Aadya | #63 | Female | Pembroke Welsh Corgi | M: Kämpe, Thulo, Hoff, and Afton indirectly.

It was odd meeting that icy blue gaze again. That of the Culls was unlike any natural blue a dog could have. Even the mutt with two-toned eyes back in the tunnels didn't have a gaze near as unsettling as the Commander.

Yet, with a flick of her ears, Aadya drew herself to her full (yet diminutive) height. Her gaze steeled over as she addressed the looming dog. The sparring-if she could even call it that-beasts were of little importance to her in the moment. Dogs fought all the time, and she pushed blood-stained memory of the golden dog's downfall to the back of her mind. If the massive beast he was fighting was lucky, it wouldn't come to that.

Although it was beginning to look like the Commander was the one that needed worry.

Snapping back to reality, cool eyes turned up to the Chief. "I have information for you, Commander. Information of the Rebellion," she paused, recollecting herself. Aadya couldn't slip up, not now. "I would like to have council with you in private. There are some fine details that...need not be said in this setting."

Truth was, Aadya was stalling for time. With every step she had taken through the cold, dead streets of the city she had collected her thoughts, tallying which tunnels she needed to tell her commander of. Which ones would be best to execute a raid, which ones would be best to trap Big-Dog. He'd never be captured alive. His allegiance to his cause was something Aadya would never come to understand.

The only thing she'd ever fall for was herself. In the city, no one cared if she lived or died. When dogs outlived their usefulness, they were taken away anyway. That was the way of things.

"Commander, mind I ask you something? It would help straighten up my...recollection of what has come to pass."

Aadya knew she should have waited, yet, it was as if her muzzle opened of its own accord. "Where has their Cull come from? How functional is she?"

(short, I haven't written in a while asdfghjk)

Aadya | #63 | Female | Pembroke Welsh Corgi | M: Kämpe, Thulo, Hoff, and Afton indirectly.

Something in the commander was off, and it scared her. Yet, Aadya had to hold onto the icy feeling in her chest. The calmness had served her well in her time as a soldier, yet it was a foreign language amongst the dogs of Kilo. Alienating.

Admittedly, the commander's words caught her by surprise. First the denial of her request for private council left her confused, then it hit her: a test? The rebuttal to her question of the one they called Ginger was to be expected, but when Aadya craned her neck and turned her gaze directly into that icy abyss something strange looked back at her.

All thoughts of that were banished when the commander responded with information. Precious, vital information. Functional, but outdated. "I only ask, Commander, because an assessment of her function is needed when considering-" Aadya cut herself off there. Rambling could wind her up out of the commander's good graces, something she desperately needed.

With ears flattened, she launched into her story. It was a tale told rapidly, Aadya only stopped to take a quick breath before throwing herself back into her tale. It was one of her captivity, their odd commander, and a certain very wide tunnel that the dogs of Beta could fit through during their march on the headquarters. Fighting regiment dogs would be far too large to safely fit into the tunnels. She was sure they were stable, yet cramped and stuffy.

"I...couldn't give directions if I tried," Aadya's chest heaved as if she was trying to regain the breath from telling the tale as quickly as she had. "but I can sure as hell take you there."

It must have been a funny twist of fate that she left out Big-Dog.

- Transition post -

Kämpe | Chief Cull | (Beauceron/Kangal/Malinois) | 24 | M: idk at this point

Kämpe's eyes flicked left, then right, and drifted, never seeming to latch onto any one place for very long. She couldn't tell if that was her own doing, or some fault of the stress-induced overheating of some mechanical part of her mind; it wasn't very important, either way.

Despite recent flaws in her programming, her mind was ever-quick; she had regiments selected, headquarters to consult, a collection of plans constructed. Only a few more moments of question followed, then a brief dismissal, as she took this information to her superiors.

Everything seemed to fly into twice the speed, in the next few moments. It was decided: the ranks were to be organized, and an attack was to be initiated. All canine forces were trained extensively in swift mobilization, and this was a simple task, they said. A sixth of the ranks would be sufficient, based on little-dog's information.

Little-dog was true to her promise; with a remarkably composed head, she was able to lead the ranks quickly to the tunnels enterence; something that appeared a mere hole in the ground, or something of the sort.

Scouts from the Small Dog Project, and some sighthounds plucked from other regiments were of the first ranks; then, quick and agile Tango fighters, to follow. The herders were to be deployed next, and flush Kilo out; then Bravo, Foxtrot, and a few other fighting units were to be sent into the melee, with the backup of larger November dogs just outside the tunnel. This style of attack pattern had been organized, practiced, and planned for months - it was only when they found a weakness in the tunnel system, just now, that they could utilize it.

There was a hush in the cool, gray morning air. A pause, as the world suddenly stopped.

Everything,

very suddenly,

came to a halt.

The passing idea came to Kämpe that this was so, incredibly stupid; something else shook that sentiment right out of her head. Something else cracked open her jaws, and clawed words out of her chest. Dogs blinked into attention - she liked that power.

She wanted more of it.

"We have run through this pattern before. On my mark, scouts and runners will be deployed, then herders. We drive the dogs out, annihilate them, and get to the humans."

The culls were off to the side, adjacent to their respective regiments. She turned to adress them, instead, perhaps craving some sort of validation that this command from Beta (and herself) would not be an absolute trainwreck, as some semblence of paranoid logic within whispered.

"Please state any concerns now, Commanders."

She didn't meet Hoffen's eyes, finding Pfiel's, and a Delta cull's gaze instead.

Commander Hoffen of Foxtrot | #34 | Male | Alleged Schnauzer/Wolf cross | M: Kämpe, Aadya, Frosch,

Hoffen had prepared himself for what was to come. At least, the best he could. The past few days had been harder than ever as the strength of his programming began to fade away. More than ever he felt things that were completely foreign to him. Perhaps he longed for the old days, those where the apathy that inhabited his mind sheltered him from those thoughts that clawed at the bounds of his mind. Pain shot through his chest, as if the claws of the Commander that stood before him were tearing through his flesh. He could hardly hide the twitching of his pricked ears as a hurricane of thoughts rushed through his head. Hoffen could do little but reach for the feeble strand of apathy that remained in the back of his mind as he prepared himself for what was to come.

It would be just like the very same raid in which his life was changed forever. The very one in which he lost every friend he ever had. The very one in which he had been dragged to and thrown before beta to be made into the very machine he was today. Hoffen had always wished he could forget that day, and he had, for a while. It was blissful, those days where he was able to slip into the numbness of his programming. Yet, Hoffen was unable to do that today. The sights, the sounds, and the cold looks on the dog's faces were all the same. He was almost as helpless as he was that fateful day.

Perhaps it would have been better if the dog leading that attack had let him die like the others. Whatever Beta saw in him that they didn't see in his fellow rebels was beyond Hoffen's comprehension.

The chief's words snapped him back to the present. Concerns, he needed to state any concerns. Hoffen couldn't keep the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind at bay much longer: would there be any dogs like him? Would history repeat itself?

"Are we taking prisoners?" As soon as that question left his maw he knew how bad it had sounded. Hoffen needed to keep his head if he wanted to survive today, so he quickly breathed a more reasonable question. "And how do you know, Sixty-Three, that the tunnels are stable?"

The short-legged dog immediately responded, almost as if she had anticipated the question before he even spoke the words. She launched into an explanation about how the entire rebel forced had marched through the tunnels to move headquarters. Hoffen stopped listening after her first sentence. He could care less if the damn tunnels collapsed on the lot of them. What interested the Cull much more was the small dog's eagerness to prove their plan sound. It was almost as if she was enthusiastic about the whole affair, or at least that was what he thought she was trying to convey. Odd.

Eager murmuring from behind him caught his attention. It was the fast-dog that had recently transferred into his regiment. That one never could hold his tongue. Hoffen whipped around, curling his lip at the group of Foxtrot dogs that were lined before him.

"Silence," he hissed, "do not speak unless spoken to before the raid begins. Stealth is of the utmost priority."

Arrow | Female | Terrier Mix | Kilo Dog | M: Ginger, Aadya, Afton


Ginger had told her that the pain would fade, after a while. That ache in her chest, that burning of her eyes whenever she crawled into her carefully-dog spot that she never got to show him. That deep, aching pain she felt whenever she walked through the same tunnels that she had with Tysta.

Ginger had lied. It hadn't. Arrow had just gotten better at ignoring it.

It was her turn today to watch the prisoner, the long-dog named Aadya. Their relationship had remained cold, despite Afton's clear growing fondness for the Beta dog. Arrow never trusted Aadya, she was never able to quite get over the fact that the stranger never seemed to be completely honest with anyone. Arrow couldn't get past the fact that the long-dog always seemed to be withholding something from them, despite her growing comfort living amongst the dogs of Kilo.

And Arrow had been proven right. It was her turn to stand guard over the prisoner when she approached her former guard, the small basenji, sniffing about the tunnel where Aadya was kept with no sign of the prisoner. When Arrow asked where the long-dog was, her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at the basenji's response:

"I was gone only for a few minutes! She can't have gone far."

Arrow didn't even bother to respond to the guard who had failed his duties. She turned around and bolted back up the tunnel, eyes widening as she skidded around a corner. Coming face-to-face with the small mutt Spring, she could hardly get the words out between shaky breaths "The prisoner's escaped. Where's Ginger?"

Not waiting for a response, she lowered herself to the ground and dashed off into the main tunnels. She needed to find Afton or Ginger, they would know what to do. They always knew what to do, unlike Arrow. Even on the day Tysta died, she had been frozen in her tracks, unable to help him. That day, she swore she swore she'd never be so helpless again. She couldn't let her family down.

"Help! The prisoner's escaped! Afton! Ginger?"

Afton | Male | Kilo | Bouvier/Dalmation/Pyrenees| 82 | M: Aadya, Zadolt, Kordelas, Spring

As Afton padded forward through the largest section of the tunnels, the only one in which the dog could enjoy raising his head to his full height, his ears caught the alarm of Arrow.

He paused, registering her words.

"...What?"

There seemed to be a hush as the information sunk in, and then the calm hum of ever-worried manner seemed to erupt into panic. "No, no no -" They couldn't lose the prisoner. She had information on the tunnels, she could have overheard something, anything -

He trotted to Arrow, body tense. "Where's Ginger?" Afton did not like breaking protocal. He didn't like disobeying rules - but he figured this was an unsaid command: if a prisoner escapes, catch her. Oh long-dog, why - and who -

Didn't matter. Afton turned to the nearest canine, and urgently asked the dog to reach Ginger and let her know that he was going to go find this dog. He may not have been responsible, but he was the assigned guard for most of the time; to some degree, this was preventable.

The whites of his eyes flashing, Afton turne to Arrow. "We'll catch her, if we go now. How long ago did she leave?" His head shot up, alarmed gaze scanning the room. "Who was the last guard?"

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, silence, oh skies above, may they all be saved -

No, no they had to catch the dog. He was too tall - he'd serve as backup. Arrow was about the size of long-dog, she could follow her. He leaned down to the rat-dog, willing composure into his voice. "Arrow, you're small enough to follow her wherever. The rest are half asleep, and I'll watch your back - but we have to go now."

Kämpe | Chief Cull | (Beauceron/Kangal/Malinois) | 24 | M: idk at this point

No opposition. Naturally.

Ah, and there was Thirty-Four, ever the outsider, with his questions, with his odd eyes. She glared down her nose at the dog (as best as she could), willing away anything but a blank mind, a defferent mind, and obediant mind. She was a soldier, a soldier - ah. She ought to reflect his first question to Beta -

No. No prisoners.

The words pried themselves out of her own jaws, without her consent - direct commands from Beta never were relayed by her own words and tongue; no, it was a foriegn entity drawing language from her gut, spilling their will from her eyes and voice. She had never gotten used to it; and it was always a part of her.

She supposed Thirty-Four's following question was fair enough, and perhaps if she had managed better concentration, she would have registered the long-dog's answer. She found, unsurprisingly, she didn't care for valid concerns: this was Beta's will, not her own. Never her own.

Hoffen's reprimand of that blasted eighty-eighty - god, if some tunnel collapse didn't bury that dog, she would - snapped back her focus. Kämpe huffed. Nothing felt right today; nothing had felt right these last few weeks. She felt, and then she didn't; she thought, and then was blank, a canvas for a program. And every damn time her tech slipped, she felt as though she had been struck over the head. Today, she had settled on something between: an apathy, with dulled, (albeit still alarming) emotion.

It didn't matter, it didn't matter, it didn't matter. An urgency coursed through her veins - this was her salvation, somehow. This was where she would prove that she was a soldier, a good chief. She didn't want to die, not today. Perhaps she should kill the traitor. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

She shook her head, then turned to stalk along the lines of dogs. "Herders, on my command, you will flush out the dogs, and gather information. Smaller fight-dogs will follow as backup. The main fighting force will await in the large cavern-tunnel ahead; following sixty-two's information, the herders should be able to push Kilo into our own forces. "

She halted, blue eyes electric - emotionless. Empty. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. "Have no fear. Take no prisoners." Her eyes flicked to the herding group; all seemed eerily silent. "Go."