The Raging Hounds XI: Sade Campaign Part 2: Avatars of Death
#11 of The Raging Hounds
Long in the making, but finally here!
The soft light of a shaded lamp in the ceiling glinted off of the slowly swirling cognac contained within the glass. The man, dressed in a black uniform with golden decorations, holding the glass between his fingers was smiling pleasantly, leaning his gloved fist to his cheek as he sat on the luxurious swivelling chair.
His hair was long, black as ebony and looked oily-slick. His face had very sharp, handsome features which were only enhanced by the contrast of his pallid skin against his dark hair. His eyes, however, were blue pits of cold, frozen oblivion to which the warmth of his smile just couldn't reach.
Schaefer stared in impassive nonchalance at the man. He had been allowed to keep his uniform, and was even allowed to sit unshackled in the office of this man, this Inquisitor Rodigus, who somehow managed to look so smug and superior that it was all Schaefer could do to not launch himself into the man's throat.
The office was luxurious, panelled with exotic dark wood and richly furnished. Schaefer paid the room and it's various trinkets -ragged banners, broken vibro-swords, fangs and skulls- adorning the walls no heed, focusing instead on looking at the man.
Schaefer knew that should he make a single wrong move he'd be condemning his men to a swift and brutal death.
"So then...Colonel? I must congratulate you and your company for making it this far. It's just such a pity you managed to wipe the memory of your little computer. It would've been, ah, fascinating to study it and get more than the 'memory erased' message out of it." Rodigus' voice was soft, pleasant and carried both an air of casualness as well as an underlying hint of dangerous, venom-oozing malice.
"It's a standard procedure for us to erase the files in case we get captured. I'm sure you, as a soldier, understand the need for it." Schaefer said, doing his best to keep his voice as calm and neutral as he could.
"Ah, but of course Colonel. Say, what are those fangs you carry with you? Hunting trophies?"
Schaefer lowered his gaze into the fangs adorning his wrist "They're mementos. I carry them to honour those who died in serving the unit."
Rodigus took a sip from his glass and stroked his chin with an amused smile on his face "An interesting little quirk. Now, I'm sure you're wondering why you've been taken from your unit to have a little conversation with me, yes? It is quite simple indeed. Firstly I want to get to know my foe. Have you ever heard of the brilliant human tactician who lived a long, long time ago, Sun Tzu? If you haven't, you definitely should try finding some of his works. They make for quite excellent reading."
Rodigus smiled pleasantly before continuing. "The second reason for your presence here, in this room, is that I want to make a deal with you. You, and your men, help me in doing a little promotional video and then you can just... walk away."
"And what guarantee I have that you won't just have us all shot if I agree?"
"You have my word, colonel. You see... Unlike your kind, we humans still retain a shred of decency and actually stick to our given word as often as we possibly can. Besides, if you do NOT cooperate, you WILL be facing an execution squad for sure and I can tell just by looking at your men that you aren't the martyr-type fanatics."
The Inquisitor settled back in his chair, wiping away a stray lock of hair from his face before fixing one more fake-warm, hollow smile at Schaefer "While you think about it, I'd like to ask you something else. Who, exactly, is that rodent in dark armour? He's proven to be quite the fighter, you see, and it intrigues me to no end. See, the thing is, he killed five of my Templar Bretheren guard as well as almost two dozen soldiers. Why, I had to go and stop him myself and what a delightful battle it was!"
Schaefer let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose firmly to give himself some more time to think before replying. Telling the truth was probably the best thing to do at this point "He's a specialist commando, an expert infiltrator-assassin attached to my unit."
"Marvellous. I think we are reaching a common wave length here, colonel. I'm sure this discussion will prove to be worth the while."
Schaefer was half expecting for a forked tongue to slither from the Inquisitor's mouth at any given moment. The sly, slick little snake!
The Hounds and captain Dhamon's men (the captain himself was missing just like Schaefer) had been herded unceremoniously into the basement of the generator structure where they had been stuffed into an old, empty storage room. It was cramped and unpleasant due to the number of marines in there and a stale stench of mould and moisture lingered in the air.
Dhamon's men sat near the only door whilst the Hounds had taken places near the back, all the Federate Marines sitting in small groups. Some were conversing quietly, others sulked and still others prayed.
Jim was sitting next to Vincent, the Dalmatian leaning his head onto the hyena's shoulder. Next to Vincent, Rey was doing his best in patching John up with pieces torn off from the Husky's T-shirt. Due to the lack of disinfectants or, indeed, even water, Rey had had to resort to an old trick in the book of furries, performing the literal version of the age-old saying about licking wounds.
"I can't believe Schaefer forced us to surrender! We're all going to die anyway, the difference is that now we do it slowly instead of a quick bullet wound!" Hicks snarled nearby, the German Shepherd's hand balled into a tight fist.
Fletcher gave the medic a stern glare and a growl that killed all conversation in the room "Knock it off, Hicks. The Colonel must have a plan of some sort, some way to get us out of here. So for the time being just shut up, relax and get some rest."
John let out a grunt, flexing his twitchy fingers slowly. All the Hounds knew this meant only one thing: the black wolf needed a smoke, and bad.
"That's bound to be one helluva plan, eltee, because last I checked Ghost, Schaefer's little trump card, had gotten his ass handed to him." John said, the wolf's raspy, rough voice sounding all the more ominous in the gloomy makeshift prison "And I know what the Shade can do; I fought against him and lost. Heck, there was five of us and we lost, so who- or whatever it is that beat the Shade is enough to give me something to worry about."
The conversation in the room died out as heavy footsteps approached the door, the Federate Marines almost holding their breath out of tense anxiety. As the sound of boots clomped away, everyone relaxed once more.
Vincent kept fidgeting with his paws, staring down at the concrete floor with glazed eyes. In his mind he saw, as if on infinite loop, how Dan tossed Jim and Schaefer out of the harm's way before being crushed under several tonnes of rubble.
He just couldn't, wouldn't, believe that Dan was indeed gone, that there was a might in the universe that could stop even the juggernaut-of-a-wolf. The hyena had to bite down on his tongue to prevent the tears from squeezing out of his eyes. The last thing he wanted right now was to let the others see him moping over Dan.
"C'mon, Vincent... You don't have to act tough. I... We all miss him, he was like a big brother to us all." Jim whispered into Vincent's ear, the dog adjusting his position so that he was able to wrap his arms around Vincent's chest.
Vincent allowed his ears to droop and his entire posture to flop a notch as he leaned his cheek against the top of Jim's head and put an arm around the Dalmatian's shoulders. He found some meagre comfort in the fact that he had Jim and the others by his side and that sooner or later they'd be together with Dan again... In a better place.
"Friends, comrades, brothers..." Martin begun slowly from one of the corners, the black jackal standing up and walking slowly into the centre of the room where everyone could see him "We live a dark chapter in our lives and, indeed, hope seems to be all but slim. However, it is times like this, these hardships we must endure, that make the good times look all the better. Many wise persons have said it: without darkness there can be no light, without bad there can be no good. I will not lie to you, we truly are royally screwed right now, but we must put our faith in Lord Machala and in Colonel Schaefer to get us out of here."
Martin spread his arms as if to embrace the entire room, fiery passion and faith burning in his eyes and in his every word as he let the words flow out of him "I know not all of you consider faith to be important but it matters little, for Lord Machala -in his infinite mercy and wisdom- will forgive you your misdeeds and shortcomings. As your journey in this world comes to an end, and you enter his great halls, he shall greet you all with open arms. Now, my friends, let us pray for Lord Machala for strength to persevere during these dark times..."
Closing his eyes, Martin lowered his head and folded his ears back, his palms pressed to his chest. Around him the Hounds -and, after a short hesitation, Dhamon's men- shuffled down onto one knee, their heads pressed down in reverence.
As one, their murmured voices filled the small storage room as Martin, the makeshift chaplain of the Hounds, led them on in their prayer.
Moments later, just after the Federate Marines had finished their prayer, the storage room's door opened and six black-clad human soldiers armed with shock batons marched in. Behind them could be seen another soldier with a flamer, the muzzle of which was pointed towards the door.
"Alright! One wrong move and you'll be turned to cinder so play nicely you filth!" One of the troopers shouted, the man's eyes scanning the room for a moment before fixing up on Jim and Vincent huddled up in the back.
None of the Federates dared to move a muscle. They could sense the man with the flamer would have no qualms whatsoever in frying his two comrades along with the Federates if needs must.
"You there! Yes, you two with spots over there!" The man bellowed, pointing the shock baton at Vincent and Jim who looked quizzically at the man in return "Get your mangy hides over here! Lord Rodigus wants to have a word with you, so hustle up!"
Rey let out a whimper, grabbing Vincent by the sleeve of his jacket, but Vincent shook him off with a resigned smile on his face "It'll be worse for you all if we won't go..."
"We'll be fine, Rey..." Jim added, but in all honesty the Dalmatian didn't sound very convinced in his own words.
"Hurry the fuck up!" The trooper bellowed again and Vincent and Jim slinked their way through the cramped room as fast as they could.
As soon as they were within reach, the two of them were grabbed by a pair of troopers each and hauled out of the room.
"You want me to do WHAT?" Schaefer snarled, his fangs bared at the Inquisitor.
Rodigus wasn't impressed by the Colonel's act, though inwardly he shunned the piercing eyes of the canine. There was just something truly unsettling about them...
"I believe I said that you need to appear in a propaganda video, claiming the error of the human persecution and saying also that you surrendered of your own free will. Your men, too, will make an appearance. Nothing too fancy, just them as our prisoners, treated nice and all to show we aren't the monsters you make us out to be." Rodigus said with a smug smile. "You will, of course an naturally, also divulge any and all information you have on the defences of your so-called Federation. I'm sure you know the locations of a few outlying lightly defended bases..."
Schaefer's response was bitter "You do realize that will mean the death sentence to both me and my men once we return to our lines?"
The smug smile on Rodigus' face broadened a touch "I only said you'd get to walk away from here alive, not that you'd be welcomed back to your own ranks again. Besides... The universe is vast. I'm sure you and your men would be able to go into hiding and live a long, happy life, get married and have a bunch of kids."
Schaefer bit back a half-ready response about how his men wouldn't really be getting any children no matter how much they tried, seeing how they were -for the most part anyways- a bunch of flaming queers.
"Ah, yes..." Rodigus continued "I hope you are more sensible than that captain. What was his name again?" The man picked up a pair of bloody dog tags from a drawer on the table and examined them for a moment before nodding softly "Dhamon, yes... Foolish mutt, wouldn't shut his mouth long enough for me to get a word in between all that barking and swearing."
"What did you do to him?" Schaefer's voice was low, almost naught but a growl as he fixed a murderous glare at the Inquisitor.
With a precise, slow motion Rodigus reached out to tap a button in the corner of his desk. Servos whirred for a moment and then a small hatch parted on the top of the desk, out of which rose a silver platter with a matching dome-lid on it.
"I'm afraid I had to... Deal with him to make him shut up. Hopefully you are smarter than he was." The man said coldly as he lifted the lid.
The sight made Schaefer growl even louder, and the German Shepherd had to exert all his will not to attack the man then and there.
On the silver platter, covered in blood and with a horrified expression of fear and pain frozen onto his features, lied the severed head of captain Dhamon, the Malamute's tongue dangling limply out of the side of his muzzle.
Stripped of his armour, wearing nothing but his fur, the stoic, impassive Ghost was being led towards a metal table with restraints and dried patches of blood all over it. It didn't take a genius to realize that the humans were planning on torturing the rodent.
There were four of them in the room with him: a human officer, two of the Templar Brethren and a man that could only be the torturer, judging by his hospital-green clothing and the black rubber gloves and apron that he wore.
The torturer examined Ghost from head to toe in a way not unlike that with which a butcher might evaluate a fresh carcass, a sadistic grin on his face as he did so, his fingers twitching with obvious anticipation.
"I want some answers out of this one... Take the long and slow route around, doctor. This bastard deserves no mercy." The officer said coldly.
"Yes, yes of course, captain. I assure you I'll make this festering abomination tell every single little secret in an hour or two, or maybe a little over. This one looks and acts tough." Came the excited response of the torturer.
Ghost knew one thing for a fact: if he was to be strapped down on that table, he would not stand back up alive again. He just couldn't afford to act hastily now, he had to bide his time, wait for the right moment and then strike like a viper.
His hands and feet were chained, the chains held by the two Templar Brethren, but his tail was free; good enough a thing for Ghost.
As Ghost and his two "escorts" arrived to the table, the human officer pressed a button on a small remote controller and the shackles around Ghost's feet opened with a loud click. One of the two Templar Brethren kneeled down to grab him by the ankles, but Ghost was faster to act.
With thundering force his knee connected with the much more lightly protected neck-area of the Templar's armour, the force of the impact sending the man sprawling on the floor. At the same time he coiled his tail around the other Templar's ankle and yanked as hard as he could, catching the human unaware and sending him, too, crashing onto his ass on the ground, dropping the chain in the process.
Both Templar Brethren swore loudly as they were picking themselves up from the floor, but Ghost didn't wait around for them to get back up into the fight. A swift thrust-kick sent a tray of sharp torture implements and syringes hurtling against the torturer, who in turn screamed and raised his arms to protect his face, falling over a moment after the impact.
Still Ghost didn't let his momentum end, turning around just in time to see the officer reaching for his gun. Ghost knew he had two options: leap to safety and give the humans time to recover, or press the advantage and see if he could dodge a bullet...
Ghost chose the latter option, his body tensing up in a fraction of a second -like a cobra poising to strike- before unleashing himself in rapid sprint directly towards the pale, panicking human officer. Just as he had predicted -or more precisely hoped for- his reckless charge caused the human to botch up the drawing of his pistol. The panic in his eyes intensified as Ghost rammed his palm upwards into the human's nose, shattering it and sending the splinters into his brain, the officer's twitching body falling to the ground.
Turning around Ghost dropped into a low guard-stance, keeping his eyes fixed on the two Templar Brethren who had managed to clamber back up by now, his paws finding the fallen remote almost immediately. A click of a button opened the shackles around his wrists, the metal restraints falling to the floor with a hollow clatter.
A brief moment of silence, only a few heartbeats long, followed as Ghost evaluated the two Templars, just like the two human warriors evaluated Ghost.
The silence was broken with the crackling sound of the Templars' swords activating their power fields, the crackling energy forming a bluish-white, faint aura around the edges as small arcs of lightning danced along the blade.
The human warriors dropped into ready stances with the swords held shoulder-high. Ghost could tell by their body language they were ready to attack him, and he also knew those blades would slice through metal, flesh, bone and, quite frankly, through almost anything like hot knife through butter.
Unarmed, unarmoured and outnumbered... Things didn't look good at all for Ghost.
Still, no matter the odds stacked against him, Ghost wasn't going to lie down and die; he was physically and mentally unable to do so. The harsh training regime he had been forced to go through his entire life made sure of that.
A cold, determined expression -cold as ice and hard as steel- settled onto the Shade operative's face. As the Templar Brethren warriors launched themselves at him, Ghost hurled himself at them cold and calculated viciousness.
The humans struck as one, one aiming low around his knees, the other one chopping higher at about chest height. Ghost leapt between the blades, spinning around and coiling his tail around his body to keep it safe as the two blades swept over and above him, only a breath away from his exposed flesh, landing into a low crouch just behind the armoured warriors.
The men were fast to recover, spinning on their heels to deliver an over-the-shoulder chop aimed for Ghost's head, but due to the bulk of their weapons and armour the naked, unrestricted Shade was able to roll out of harm's way, wrapping his tail around the wrists of the other Templar Brethren and yanking them hard as he tumbled.
The result was just like Ghost had planned, as the human lost his footing and was forced to take a half-turn to compensate, the energized blade of his sword slicing deep into the other warrior's midsection.
Even as the wounded Templar warrior fell to the ground, lifeless, the surviving one turned his focus on Ghost, letting off of his sword and allowing his momentum to carry him on, a cry of rage ripping from his throat as he slammed his fist towards Ghost's face.
Badly positioned, only just recovering from the wild lunge, Ghost didn't have time enough to dodge completely and the armoured gauntlet smashed into his chest with an unhealthy crunch, hurling him onto his back on the metal table and knocking most the wind out of his lungs.
"You son of a bitch... You vile, despicable abomination to nature and God! I'll have your head for this!" The Templar warrior roared, his voice mechanical and hollow through the speaker systems on his helmet.
The man lunged at Ghost, once more aiming a punch towards the mouse's chest, but Ghost was able to roll backwards off the table -which bent and buckled under the force of the blow. Ghost tried to roll onto his feet, but was thwarted as the man flipped the table over, pinning one of Ghost's legs underneath it.
Ghost let out a grunt as the heavy metal slab fell on his leg. The Templar leapt into the air, aiming to stomp the mouse's head into bloody pulp.
Once more Ghost was able to cheat death as he just barely managed to pull his leg free and roll to the side. The man, seeing Ghost escape once more, tossed a glance towards the two swords lying near the corpse of his fallen comrade and then lunged himself towards them.
Ghost knew this was his chance, that this was the mistake he'd been waiting for the Templar to make. Like quicksilver Ghost leapt onto his feet and launched himself at the Templar's back, his tail snapping about like a whip as he rammed the tip of it through one of the helmet's eye lenses.
The Templar warrior reacted fast, snatching Ghost by the tail as he tried to leap off. With the sound of ripping tissue, followed by the Templar's confused utterance "What the hell..?" Ghost launched himself off of the human, somersaulting backwards and landing gracefully onto his feet as the human tore off his helmet and hurled it aside, revealing a greying, bearded man in about his mid-to-late forties with several scars adorning his face.
Ghost's tail lashed back and forth behind him, the skin of it ripped off from halfway down, revealing metallic vertebrae.
"Yes... It's a mechanical implant." Ghost whispered, hurling himself towards the Templar once more. This time, however, the Templar warrior reacted faster, sidestepping Ghost's lunge and extending his arm to the side, clotheslining the rodent to the chest and dropping him like an empty sack.
With a snarl, the man pressed a knee onto Ghost's chest and wrapped his gauntleted hands around the rodent's throat, shutting his windpipe.
"This ends now, fiend... You'll die slowly, so you can atone for all the sins you've committed, for all the lives you took..." The man snarled, tightening his grip a little.
Ghost tried to toss a feeble punch at the man, his vision dimming and strength rapidly draining from his limbs. The punch didn't have any visible effect on the man, a grin appearing on his face as Ghost, in what looked like a desperate last action, pressed his paw against the Templar's face, trying to push him off.
The human's satisfied grin turned into a look of mild confusion all of a sudden, his grip loosening as Ghost twisted his wrist half a turn around and back, rolling then the limp, armoured human off of him.
Standing up, Ghost pulled his arm free, examining the five inches long thin spike protruding from the inside of his wrist and casually wiping it clean with two fingers before retracting it with the flick of a wrist.
Deep down inside Ghost was glad of the device implanted into his forearm: a spring-loaded duraplast tube with a ceramic alloy spike inside it. With no metallic parts it was invisible to most scanners, meant to be used as a last-ditch surprise weapon by the Shade operatives in case they found themselves in a real pinch; much like the one Ghost had been in.
A soft groan from the corner of the room caught Ghost's attention. It was the torturer, bloody and bleeding but still alive, slowly crawling his way out of the room.
As he saw Ghost approaching, the torturer let out a panicked cry and rolled onto his back, raising his hands in front of himself as if trying to ward the Shade away.
"No... No, please, no!" The torturer begged as Ghost hovered above him, cold hatred burning in the rodent's eyes.
Without a word Ghost stomped onto the torturer's throat and smashed his windpipe. Silent as ever, Ghost left the room, leaving the slowly choking torturer and the three other corpses behind him. Now all he had to do was find his armour.
It wasn't quite as he had planned it, far from it, but as always he'd make do and adapt to the situation. That Inquisitor, however... He was something different, far more skilled than any other human he'd faced so far, the only one who could pose a threat to his mission.
Schaefer was still trying to decided what to do as there was a knock on the wooden double doors.
"Ah, so they are finally here. Good, good..." Inquisitor Rodigus said, standing up with a hand on his chin, looking even more pleased with himself than before. Upon seeing Schaefer's expression of mild curiosity, he decided to elaborate "You see, I thought you might need a little incentive to speed up your decision-making; a sort of a catalyst, if you will. Enter!"
A second later the doors opened and Vincent and Jim were ushered into the room, their paws cuffed behind their backs. Quite roughly the two of them were seated onto simple metallic chairs carried in by two other soldiers.
Both Vincent and Jim's muzzles fell slightly open as they saw the Colonel sitting there, unharmed and uncuffed, both of them shouting "Colonel!" in almost perfect unison.
"Raikov? Winters? Are the others still alive? Where ar--" Schaefer asked, but he was cut off by Rodigus.
"Enough chit-chat, I didn't have two of your men brought here so you could change pleasantries." Rodigus turned his attention to the soldiers who had brought Vincent and Jim in "Send two Templar Brethren here, and after that I do not want to be disturbed for ANY reason until further notice."
"Yes, Inquisitor." The men replied and filed out of the room, replaced soon after by two Templar Brethren who took places on either side of the doors, standing in attention there like a pair of statues.
Schaefer's eyes narrowed as the Inquisitor circled around his desk and behind the chairs on which Jim and Vincent sat, their cuffs now attached to the chairs to make escaping even more difficult.
"You see, Colonel, I've deduced that you're quite fond of those serving underneath you, so..." Rodigus spoke slowly, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced slowly back and forth behind the chairs. Then, suddenly, with the sound of steel sliding out of a sheath, Rodigus drew out a long, curved knife from behind his back, tilting Jim's head to the side and pressing the knife on the Dalmatian's throat hard enough to draw a tiny trickle of blood.
Vincent snarled at Rodigus and snapped his jaws in an attempt to bite the human, and for his trouble he was rewarded with a thundering backhand across the jaw.
"Either you make a decision within five minutes, or I'll cut one of them up, starting with this... girl? Five minutes later I'll kill the other one and have two more brought here. Now, those new two... I'll kill them slowly. Oh, and tell the corporal here to keep his fangs hidden, lest I have to beat them all out of his mouth."
Schaefer clenched his paws into fists yet again, his lips curling in a snarl to reveal his long canines as he snarled at the Inquisitor "You wretched scum... Raikov, behave. don't do anything rash and we just might live through this."
Inquisitor Rodigus clicked his tongue a couple of times, shaking his head disapprovingly "Tick tock, tick tock, Colonel... time's a wasting."
"C-Colonel... Don't... Don't do it. No matter what it is, don't do it!" Jim squeezed out the words between clenched teeth, the Dalmatian's body shivering slightly, his voice trembling as he did so.
"Winters, quiet! By Machala's fangs shut UP!" Schaefer growled and Jim complied, the Dalmatian's ears pinning flat against his skull.
Jim could see clearly the Colonel was torn by an internal struggle, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Never before had he seen Schaefer being so clueless, indecisive and desperate. Jim didn't want to die, not like this, not here, not now; especially not in the hands of this slimy, cruel bastard Inquisitor. Still, despite his fear, he was trying his best to be brave.
From the corner of his eye he could see the anguished, defeated look on Vincent's face, a thin trickle of blood staining the fur in the corner of his muzzle. The sight made Jim let out an involuntary whine, which in turn prompted a short, amused chukle from Rodigus.
"My, my... Afraid of death, are we? Don't worry... If your dear Colonel here makes the right choice in about four minutes, you just might get to walk away from here."
"Weakling..."
"Huh?"
"I said, you are WEAK. Laid low by a few bumps and bruises... How pathetic."
"Wha..?" All he could feel was flaming, raging pain throbbing all over his body. To add insult to injury, someone was mocking him, though he had no idea who it was.
"Are you just going to lay low and die here? The others need you and you know it!" The speaker's voice was firm and strong and it resonated with power and authority.
"I don't think I can. I can't move and it feels... It feels nice to just lie here. It's so... Peaceful, for the first time in a long, long while." He replied.
Then, through the hazy darkness, he saw the speaker approaching and it left him gawping in muted awe.
Dan had never seen something like that aside from history books. The dragon, his scales as black as the night with flaming orange on the chest and belly, was easily a head and shoulders taller than even the huge wolf. The dragon had his arms crossed over his chest and an unsatisfied frown twisted his otherwise majestic features.
"Stop making excuses! I can't believe you are so eager to give up. What about Vincent? Or Jim, Rey, that fox Jake and everyone else? Are you going to abandon them all just because it's convenient for you?" The dragon's voice was heavy with barely contained anger.
"I told you, I can't move. I just... I don't have the strength to dig myself out of here." Dan let out a sigh. He'd told the truth, as he just couldn't find in himself the energy to free himself from the stony prison that he could feel pressing down on him from all sides.
"Yes you have, you fool! You just refuse to accept that which is yours by the virtue of your blood. Don't fight against your gift, but learn to embrace it. Give in to your hatred, your anger, and let those humans feel the power of the Dragon Rage!"
"No." Dan said firmly "I don't want to do it, even if it costs me my life. The red haze makes me uncontrollable, a savage beast no better than an animal. I never want to experience that again..."
"It's the only way you can help your friends. Can you hear it? The humans are already digging through the rubble, putting a bullet through the head of every fur they find just to be on the safe side. It's only a matter of time before they find you and kill you." The dragon held a small pause, it's amber-coloured eyes fixing a stern glare at Dan "Give in to the Dragon Rage, Dan, and help your comrades. They will die if you won't..."
With that said, the dragon faded away from Dan's sight.
Dan's face distorted with anger. He knew, somewhere deep down inside, that the dragon hadn't been lying to him. Whether it had been his imagination or not, the scalie had been all too right; he had to do something to help the Hounds.
He could feel the adrenaline starting to flood his system, dulling the pain, the red haze descending in front of his eyes as he struggled to free himself. Little by little the stones started to give way. A guttural, primal snarl tore out from Dan's muzzle. He would break free from this pile of rock even if it was the last thing he did!
"I can't believe they made us do all this work! I mean... Just look at all this mess! It's going to take hours before this thing is done." A man in the black fatigues of the Terran Military complained to another one in similar outfit.
"Quit your bitching, Michael, and keep digging. I don't like this any more than you do, but somebody has to get the job done." The other soldier, a man in his late forties with a silver-streaked brown hair and neat moustache, replied to Michael.
Hugh snorted in disgust as he wrenched another stone block away with a crow bar, sweat beading his face and matting his blonde hair to his scalp "It still sucks..."
Pausing for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, Hugh turned to look at Michael "Your wife and kids made it to the shelter safely?"
"Yeah, yeah they made it there intact. I know it's only delaying the inevitable, but at least we aren't making it easy for those hairy bastards. They should just leave us damn well be!" Michael ranted on "Terra surrendered officially a long time ago, but still they hunt us like animals! Can't they just accept our defeat and let us carry on with our lives?"
Hugh let out a mirthless, dry chuckle "The irony of those words... Dude, did you forget we, originally, chased them across the galaxy in an effort to wipe them all out? Now we're just reaping what we've sown."
Michael just grumbled something incomprehensible in response, shovelling some loose rubble aside to allow Hugh to wrench yet another piece off from the pile.
Suddenly Michael stopped and laid the shovel aside, pulling out his assault rifle that had been hanging from it's strap on his back, a deep frown on his face as he said "Did you hear that?"
Hugh was about to ask what his friend meant, but his question turned into a horrific scream as something big, fierce and red-eyed literally burst out of the pile of rubble in a shower of dust and debris.
Michael pulled his gun up to bear and squeezed the trigger, screaming in terror...
Through the red haze, as if watching everything from a distance like a movie, Dan saw the two men that had, unwittingly, set him free. Lunging forward Dan caught both men by the head with his large paws, the burst fired by the man on the right going wide off target as he was lifted from his feet like a rag doll.
The two humans screamed as Dan bounded across the courtyard and towards the doorway. The scream of the men was cut short as the wolf slammed their heads against the doorframe with a sickening crunch, his pace none the slower as he leapt inside.
In the well-lit interior Dan spotted his next victim instantly: one of the humans in silvery armour had been walking towards the doorway, but now he was drawing his sword to fight Dan. The wolf, however, gave the Templar Brethren no such chance as he leapt onto the human, sending him crashing to the floor.
Roaring in fury Dan latched his paws onto the edges of the man's helmet and pulled, the grinding and protesting of his foe's armour drowned by the rush of blood in his ears. With a crack the man's helmet came off, revealing a pale man who looked like he knew he was about to die.
Grabbing the human by the collar of his armour with one paw, Dan started to beat the Templar across the head with his own helmet, not stopping until the man's head was nothing but bloody mush.
With a clatter the helmet hit the floor as Dan stood up. The thrill of taking a life so easily was intoxicating and Dan found himself wanting, no, needing more! He dropped down into a crouch and, like a wild beast, started to bound up the stairs in search of more victims to slaughter...
"We've got a problem, Sir..." The intercom crackled in Inquisitor Rodigus' room, causing the man to raise an eyebrow before taking away the knife from Jim's throat and marching behind his desk to tap the respond button.
"What is it? I believe I made it clear that I was NOT to be disturbed for any reason. Explain yourself at once!"
"Sir! There's a... A monster, that's the only way I can describe it, on the loose here. A brute of a wolf, tearing through us with it's bare frikin' hands! Bullets don't seem to stop it, Sir. I saw lieutenant Schtolmer empty a clip into it and it didn't even flinch. Quite the contrary, it tore the lieutenant's head right off her shoulders!"
Rodigus frowned at these news, throwing a sideway glance at colonel Schaefer before responding "Form strongpoints on the uppermost floor and the generator room, triple the guards of the intruders' cell and mobilize the Templar Brethren for hunting duty. I want this issue solved nice and fast without any screw-ups."
"Yes, Sir, it will be done." came the tense reply before the communication was terminated.
"It's coming this way! Kill it! Kill it!"
"What the fuck is it?"
"Oh my god, it got Jenkins!"
The cacophony of the humans' screaming didn't even register in Dan's ears as he mercilessly tore his way through them. His body was covered with cuts and bullet wounds, but the pain of them only fuelled his anger and drove him on.
A barricade, hastily erected by piling tables and other furniture onto the hallway, blocked Dan's path, the human soldiers behind it firing wildly towards him as he charged at them on all fours, snarling like a wild beast.
The men and women were terrified, Dan could smell their fear, and hazily he thought if it had something to do with him being drenched in blood; both his own and mostly that of his foes.
As Dan reached the barricade, the soldiers behind it, all five of them, turned around and started to run. The wolf smashed through the feeble blockade by ramming his shoulder against it and sending splinters of wood and plastic flying in all directions.
Three long strides took him to the nearest human. Dan leapt to the air, landing onto the man's back with the sound of shattering bones. The man screamed and one of the other soldiers seemed to shout... The name of the now crushed trooper, perhaps? Dan wasn't sure; the blood rushing through his ears seemed to mute most sounds. Not that he even truly cared... All he cared about, at that moment, was killing. A jolt of elation shot through him as he caught another soldier and, on the stride, crushed his head against the wall. The blood and brains of the human dripping from his paw brought him grim satisfaction, even as his eyes fixed on the back of the next victim...
With a loud click Ghost racked the slide of his silenced, compact, recoil-damped sub-machinegun, thumbing the safety on before slipping the gun into its holster on his thigh. Around him, in the dimly lit storeroom, lied the six fallen bodies of those who had been unfortunate enough to be in the room when Ghost popped in to reclaim his armour.
The suit seemed to be fine and the systems -the helmet aside- seemed intact and operational. Silently Ghost slipped out of the room, his keen ears picking up the sounds of gunfire from the hallway to his left.
Someone was raising hell, and a distraction like that was just what Ghost needed. Swift as always, true to his codename, Ghost slinked down the corridor into the opposite direction, heading for the roof to retrieve the explosives he'd stashed away after he had been found out.
Ghost paused for a moment, pressing himself into a shadowy doorway as he heard running footsteps drawing closer up ahead. A group of five humans in black uniforms jogged by Ghost's hiding place, heading towards the sounds of gunfire. Who- or whatever was causing all the trouble seemed to be a serious threat. Had the Hounds and colonel Schaefer escaped already? No... That seemed unlikely.
Ghost waited for a few more seconds before stepping out of his hideout. With his helmet broken, he couldn't rely on the cloaking device for stealth as his head would be still visible. He'd have to do this the old-fashioned way.
Moments later Ghost was sneaking up the stairwell. He had to move slowly to prevent the metal grating steps from clanking, his sharp eyes hunting around for targets, but there were none. The stairs were empty.
On the top of the stairs, right in front of the door leading to the roof, Ghost stopped and nimbly leapt over the railing, hanging on with one arm as he reached between the two thick pipes running just under the landing. There, right where he'd left them, he could feel the metallic discs, shaped and coloured much like pucks, hanging onto the pipes by the sturdy magnets built into them.
Effortlessly Ghost retrieved the explosives from their hiding place, stashing them into one of the pouches on his belt. With the explosives secured, Ghost dropped down, grabbing onto a pipe and sliding down along it for several storeys before gracefully backflipping onto the stairs, his landing making barely any sound.
Now all he had to do was to find the generators...
"Thirty seconds, Colonel..." Rodigus reminded Schaefer in a carefree, casual way, the knife spinning lazily in the man's fingers as he marched back and forth behind Jim and Vincent.
Schaefer was clamping his jaws together so hard he was afraid he'd shatter his own teeth if he kept it up. He was damned if he did agree to the Inquisitor's demands, but he'd be equally damned -by himself and his men- if he didn't. He had no idea what to do. Follow his head, do his duty and tell the human to shove it, thus ensuring the deaths of all his men -as well as the "orphans" of captain Dhamon. Other option was to follow the sense of duty and responsibility he felt for his men, agree to the human's terms and condemn himself and his men in the eyes of the entire Galactic Federation.
Inquisitor Rodigus yanked Jim's head back and pressed the knife onto the Dalmatian's throat once more, opening the partially clotted cut again "Fifteen seconds..."
"Col- colonel... Don't do it..." Jim whimpered, trembling from head to toe as the knife bit deeper into his flesh.
Rodigus started to count out loud, his eyes fixed onto the ornate, ancient clock on the wall "Five, four, three, two, o-"
"I agree! I'll do it!" Schaefer barked and jumped onto his feet, prompting the two Templar warriors to drop into low guard stances and turn to face him, ready to spring on a hair-trigger.
With a pleased, sly smile Rodigus withdrew the knife from Jim's throat, wiping the small trickles of blood away with a handkerchief before sheathing the knife once more and waving the Templar Brethren back to their places with a casual flick of a hand.
"How splendid, Colonel, splendid indeed. Now then, I won't be killing these precious men of yours, just as I promised. I'll be making arrangements for the shooting of the video, but in the meantime you can have a thorough discussion about any easily raidable, lightly defended and isolated outposts you know of..." Rodigus said as he made his way behind the desk and took his seat again, pressing his fingertips together and looking rather pleased with himself.
Schaefer threw a quick glance towards Jim and Vincent. The hyena had a hollow, empty expression on his face as he stared blankly at Schaefer, his jaw hanging slightly open. Jim was panting heavily, looking more shocked than anything.
"Colonel... Why?" The Dalmatian finally managed to gasp out.
"Be quiet, Winters... Just... Just shut up and be quiet." Schaefer growled in response, the glare he tossed towards Jim shutting the other dog up immediately.
An amused chuckle made Schaefer turn his head towards Rodigus.
"My, my, my... Discontent in the ranks, hmm? Worry not, colonel, you'll get to restore order in due time. Now then, please, do share your secrets..."
Bleeding profusely from the dozens of wounds on his body, Dan kept rampaging through the building. Inside a large hall -hastily converted into a dining hall since the start of the invasion- six Templar Brethren had managed to surround Dan, the other humans standing back to let the elite take care of the beast.
"Die, scum!" one of them roared as he lunged at Dan, swinging a halberd -it's blade powered in similar fashion as the swords used by most other Templar Brethren- at the wolf.
Dan roared and snarled in blind fury, grabbing the halberd by the haft -before the deadly blade could make contact with him- and ramming his other fist into the human's face. The Templar warrior was sent flying through the air a good eight feet, smashing heavily through a table.
Another two were coming at him from different directions, one of them already swinging the sword around his shoulder to lop Dan's head off.
Dan lifted the halberd with both paws to block the sword, jumping back at the same time to avoid the other Templar's blade. The energized sword cut through the haft of the halberd with ease and without hesitation Dan hurled the half with the active blade in it into the chest of the attacker.
The other Templar tried to swing over his shoulder, but Dan grabbed him by the wrists, snarling at his face. The man reacted fast and kneed Dan to the abdomen, but the only visible effect of the blow was an even deeper hatred and rage setting into the wolf's eyes.
With a fierce snarl Dan rammed the other half of the halberd through the Templar's eye-lens, shattering it with ease and driving the pole through the human's skull before it finally stopped into the back of his helmet, being too blunt to penetrate the sturdy material despite denting it.
Just then Dan felt the painful caress of a sword across his back, the faint stink of burnt fur drifting to his nostrils, another sword nicking at his side, Dan's instinctive reflexes only barely saving him from a potentially mortal wound. Dan spun around, backhanding the Templar warrior -who had slashed at his back- across the jaw, the sound of groaning, buckling metal accompanied by the sickening snap of the man's neck under the impact.
Turning about once more, Dan ducked underneath a blow that was meant to decapitate him and lunged forward, ramming against the armoured human and, like a bulldozer, pushed the Templar elite in front of him until -with a force comparable to a speeding car- the wolf smashed his prey against the steel wall.
The Templar Brother let out a pained shriek, the impact dampers of his armour absorbing most of the blow, but regardless he could still feel his ribs give way under Dan's merciless assault. The man's head was dizzy, his vision swimming before going black as Dan grabbed him by the face and rammed it repeatedly into the wall, not stopping before the Templar was truly and well dead.
At that point the humans' morale gave way, the ordinary troopers calling a full retreat, and the remaining Templar Brethren also decided subtlety was the better part of valour and hastily exited the room.
Dan looked around the room through the red haze, the adrenaline rushing through him making him giddy, filling him with exhilaration. Turning his head to the sky he let out a triumphant, drawn-out howl that chilled the hearts of all those who heard it, letting them know that -like eons ago in the dawn of human race- they were once more nothing but prey.
Schaefer -feeling sourer than ever before in his life- drew in a deep breath, just about to spill out the info that man, Rodigus, had requested. He never did, however, have to do that, as a massive explosion somewhere below shook the entire generator complex, the lights dying out as dust flecked down from the ceiling.
Rodigus was tossed off of his chair with an angry shout and a cry of surprise, along with Schaefer, Jim and Vincent. Even the Templar Brethren stationed into the room both fell down on one knee.
A few moments of darkness later, a red glow set into the room as the emergency systems kicked on.
Rodigus picked himself up from the floor, pressing a button on his desk with an enraged scowl on his face "Somebody explain to me what the FUCK just happened!" he shouted, banging his fist to the table as he did so.
Schaefer stood up slowly from the floor, a wicked grin curling slowly onto the German Shepherd's face "It's the beginning of the end, Inquisitor... That was the sound of your shield generators being blown up."
"WHAT?!" The Inquisitor snarled, snapping his head up to glare at Schaefer, who in turn responded to the glare with one of his own, the two Templar Brethren looking around and above themselves in confusion.
"You heard me..."
Rodigus swore heavily before pressing the com-channel button again "Respond, dammit! Damage report!"
"Sir! There was an explosion in the generator room and the generator has been completely ruined by what looks like four simultaneous explosions. I... I think it's sabotage, sir."
Once more Rodigus slammed his fist to the table "Well of course it's sabotage, you incompetent fool! find the culprit, repair the generator and be DAMN quick about it! Without the shield on, those furred abominations are free to bombard the city itself with impunity!"
"Sir, yes, sir! However, I'd like to point out the damage done to the generator is quite precise and extensive at the same time. I don't believe we'll be able to fix it befo-"
"No excuses! You'll repair the generator or you'll hang for treason! Inquisitor Rodigus out!" The man turned his eyes at Schaefer, an infuriated expression on his face "and you, Colonel... I'll make damn sure neither you, nor your men, will walk out of this one alive... Templar! Kill them all!"
Vincent, still bound to the chair, looked in horror as the armoured humans approached him, Jim and Schaefer, the Colonel stepping bravely between his men and the advancing Templar Brethren. Vincent knew Schaefer was a formidable combatant, but at the same time he felt sure not even the Colonel could stand up against two of the armoured humans unarmed and prevail...
Quiet huffing and grunting caught Vincent's attention, and he turned his head to see Jim wiggling free of the cuffs around his wrists.
As Jim saw Vincent's quizzical look, the Dalmatian winked nervously "I've learned a trick or two about handcuffs during my time in the Hounds..."
For a passing moment Vincent found himself thinking what, exactly, Jim meant with that, even finding his mind wandering for a while, completely forgetting his surroundings, before he finally snapped out of it.
Jim knelt by Vincent's side, growling angrily at Rodigus who had drawn out his knife and a gleaming sword on the blade of which energy crackled and danced.
"Jim... Just, just try to make a run for it! Don't mind me, I'll manage on my own somehow!" Vincent whimpered, knowing full well Jim was trying to protect him; a thought which made the Hyena feel useless ad pathetic. There he was, lying bound on the floor, unable to free himself and unable to move much whilst both Jim and the Colonel were ready to stand and fight to save his sorry ass.
Jim threw a glance at Vincent, a faint, reassuring smile on the dog's face as he spoke softly "Rule of the pack number three, Vinnie... Nobody gets left behind, the Pack protects it's own. Besides..." Jim trailed off, squeezing his paws into fists and fixing his eyes on Rodigus "I want to kick this guy's ass for what he did to me!"
"Jim..." Vincent gasped out, staring intently at the Dalmatian's back, unsure of what more to say.
Meanwhile, in the small storage room housing the Hounds and Dhamon's men, the Federate Marines were looking around in confusion. The explosion and the dying of the lights were both unnerving things, even more so as some of them could guess it meant the generator was out, and soon the Federates would be bombarding the city to smoking ruins.
Martin was doing his best to keep everyone calm, but the nervous mumbling and muttering of multiple conversations was drowning under even his inspirational words, the black Jackal soon enough opting to simply shut up.
"They're going to kill us soon..." John remarked, the wolf fidgeting nervously with his paws, his breathing a heavy, irrational heaving. It was easy to mistake John's behaviour for fear, but the Hounds knew it was because of John's nicotine addiction.
"Smokey, shut up. Your promotion to Captain Obvious, first class, has not been officially announced yet." Fletcher spat, managing to get a few chuckles out of the marines around him.
The marines all tensed up as they heard the lock of the door clanking open, all of them more or less resolved to their fate. They waited, every second feeling like an hour, waiting for the door to open and for a firing squad to unleash a torrent of hot death amidst them.
The door, however, stayed shut, everyone's eyes fixed intently at it despite the all-consuming darkness.
"Whoever is closest to the door, open it up carefully and try not to make a sound." Fletcher whispered, assuming control of the situation as per his rank.
The door creaked open and faint red light spilt into the room, silhouetting the arm of one of captain Dhamon's men, the one who had opened the door. The marines waited for a few more moments, all ears perked up, listening intently for any sounds close by.
As none were heard, Fletcher ordered everyone outside, and the marines complied; just like they had been trained to do.
Outside the room they found the bodies of eight human troopers, all lying face down in puddles of blood with their weapons haphazardly scattered around them.
Rey and the Hounds' chief medic David knelt by the corpses to examine them. the husky and the German Shepherd exchanged glances before turning to look at lieutenant Fletcher.
"Sir, they've all been killed with a sharp slashing weapon, probably a sword judging by the size and length of the wounds. Instantly fatal, all of them." David spoke out.
Fletcher raised an eyebrow in curiosity "Hmm? So... Could it be that our sneaky pet Shade has had his paw in on this, and if so... Why did he even bother to free us?"
"Because we'll make for one helluva distraction, sir, and I'm sure he knows it..." Jericho chuckled, a wicked grin appearing on the wolf's face as he spoke.
"Well on that you're damn straight. Arm yourselves, those of you who can, we'll go and see if we can find our own gear from here somewhere, and then we'll make our way the hell out of here, our mission is complete." Fletcher spoke, his gaze travelling over every marine present, making sure even the men of Dhamon were listening, the Great Dane's tone telling there was no room for argument.
"What about the Colonel, winters and Raikov?" Sam asked, even as he checked the clip of the assault rifle he'd picked up.
"I trust in the Colonel's ability to find his way out of here if he's alive. If not -unlikely, I know- then all the less reason for us to go after him. No... Our primary objective now is to get the hell out of here before all hell breaks loose. Now hustle up!"
As Schaefer and Jim were making ready to sell their lives as dearly as possible, the sound of shattering wood and screaming men caught the attention of everyone in the room.
Two human soldiers came, literally, flying through the doors, unhinging and splintering them badly. The Templar Brethren spun around to see what was the reason of the commotion, swords held at the ready.
"Now what?" Rodigus snorted, backing away half a step to put more distance between himself and the doorway.
A clawed hand, drenched in dried gore, grabbed the frame of the doorway, a low, rumbling growl heralding the appearance of a fierce, muscular beast; Dan!
"Dan?" The voices of Jim, Vincent and Schaefer echoed each other.
The wolf, however, didn't answer, his eyes -burning embers of undivided hatred- locking onto the two Templar Brethren, who backed away warily.
Schaefer used the opportunity to slink to help Vincent get up and free of his bonds, the Hyena looking in dumbstruck awe at Dan. Dan was alive and Vincent couldn't quite cope with the information. How could the titanic wolf be alive after being buried by several tonnes of rock and debris? Yet, at the same time, he could feel slowly rising elation in his chest. Dan was alive!
Dan roared, shaking everyone in the room to the bone, a wary look appearing even to the face of Schaefer.
Never before had the Colonel seen Dan like this. Close, yes, but never like this...
The wolf pounced, easily swatting aside the sword raised to block him, pinning the man underneath himself. The other Templar warrior tried to take a swing at Dan, but the wolf leapt back, the Templar's sword cleaving his own comrade in half, the victim screaming in agony as the energized blade bit deep into his flesh.
The attacker had no chance to recover from the shock before the wolf grabbed his head underneath his arm and lifted upwards, putting the bulky weight of the Templar's body and armour onto the man's neck, which gave up under the stress with a sickening, loud snap, his limp form collapsing to the floor a moment later as Dan tossed him aside like a broken toy.
Rodigus, pressed a button on his table, and a secret passageway opened up behind him, the man slipping in before the door closed, his table combusting automatically, destroying all important files, notes and -most importantly- the controls of the hidden escape way.
Jim ran up at Dan, a smile on his face, shouting the wolf's name. Dan, however, just fixed his eyes on Jim and grabbed the Dalmatian by the neck, snarling still in fury.
Schaefer snarled and lunged at Dan, roaring "Sergeant Austin! Let him go! Let him go, dammit!"
For all his trouble, Schaefer was rewarded with a backhand smack across the muzzle which sent the Colonel crashing to the floor.
Jim struggled feebly, panic in his eyes as he gasped out "Dan..? don't you recognize me? It's me, Jim, Jim winters."
Dan's snarling quieted suddenly, an expression of slowly dawning recognition appearing on the massive wolf's face. With a pained cry Dan dropped Jim to the floor. The wolf slapped both paws onto his head, growling in pain before he slammed his head against the nearest wall, slumping then down onto the ground, unconscious.
Whilst Schaefer was picking himself up from the floor, Vincent finally remembered how to work his legs and rushed to Jim's side, grabbing the Dalmatian into a firm hug, the canine simply slumping against the Hyena.
"My god, Jim, are you alright? He didn't hurt you bad, did he? Why the hell did he do that? I..." Vincent spoke quickly, silenced by Jim putting his paw onto Vincent's muzzle before leaning his head against the Hyena's muscular chest.
"I'm okay, don't worry about it. I... I don't think Dan was quite himself a moment ago, but he did seem to recognize me... think he's okay now, Colonel?" Jim asked, turning to throw a glance at the German Shepherd who had knelt to examine the unconscious, wounded wolf.
Schaefer was quiet for a moment as he checked Dan's pulse and lifted up one of the wolf's eyelids to check his pupils, seeing the reddish hue was gone now, the sergeant's eyes having returned to normal.
"I'm not sure, but I think he's alright now. Judging by his wounds, he's lost a lot of blood, but he should be fine, he's built to be far sturdier than any of us." The colonel finally replied.
"But why did he attack us, Colonel?" Vincent gasped out as he cradled Jim in his arms.
"I'm... Not sure, but I think it's got something to do with the Warrior Gene in him. Somehow he survived the falling debris and, perhaps, because of that he let his rage take the better of him. I know he's talked to me about it, how whenever he fights he feels a deep rage tugging at the back of his mind, like -and I'm quoting him here- a raging beast trying to get free..." As he spoke, Schaefer had taken off his greatcoat and tore his undershirt to pieces to act as makeshift bandages, even if most of the wounds on the sergeant had already clotted over.
"Now help me out here and lend me your shirts. We need to wake sergeant Austin up before we can make our way out of here. I'd rather not carry him..."
In the humans' command centre Inquisitor Superior Antonius stared grimly at the display screen. His face betrayed no emotion, giving off the impression he was taking it all in a stride as the data about the shield's collapse flooded in, the ground starting to shake little by little as more and more artillery shells landed into the city premises.
"Sir! The shield has collapsed and Inquisitor Helsbane reports the enemy is making a massive push -both armour and infantry- into the canyon. She also informs us, that they are able to hold the enemy off for may fifteen more minutes, but that's it." One of the officers informed Antonius.
"Looks like it's time for us to get ready to sell our lives as dearly as possible... Conscript everyone amongst the civilians who is even remotely able to hold a gun, and retreat to the underground caverns. Also... Captain Bavor, have the men fetch me my battle armour. It is about time I will ready myself, too, for the final act..."
****
I can hardly believe it took this long to get the episode done, but do forgive me as I've had THE writer's block of the century for quite a long time now and only lately I've managed to shake it off.
Unsurprisingly this was a non-yiffy installment, but those of you who enjoy the guy-on-guy(-on-guy?) action of the raunchy Hounds fret not! The boys will be right back at "it" after they get out of this fine little mess... If they do.
Stay tuned for the next thrilling, action-packed episode of The Raging Hounds as everyone's favorite gay marines return in episode XII: Blazing Skies!
~Rhaz
PS. Commentary is, as always, both welcome and appreciated. =)