*growaaooo-*

*crunch*

*dakka dakka*

*ratatatat*

(Fucking tutorial quests.)

*dakka dakka*

[?]

The part flesh part metal dogs were ugly enough at a distance.  Even zoomed in with my upgraded peepers.  Up close?  Like teeth in my face close?  So mother fuglier.  Even in this, now, poorly lit stairwell.

The skull of the gundog I kicked and pinned to the wall with my boot, explodes as 10mm rifle rounds from my HCR tear into it.

*ratatatat*

Gunfire, no dogs playing poker here, from its mates further down the stairwell rips up at me.  Thank god their aim sucks.  What does hit me misses the gaps, so far, in my body armor and fails to penetrate.  The impacts feel like smaller caliber rounds.

They do quite the number on the concrete like stuff around me though.  Sharp edged fragments fly off the walls that are as dangerous as their bullets.  My chunni grade black getup is getting covered in dust, scratches, divots, and tears.

Only a couple metal mutts have had turrets.  Huh.  Even though they are called “gundogs.”  Most are just jaws and claws.  And even those that have a barrel or few sticking out of them?  Most are fixed.  Making their aim?  Unimpressive.  

What is impressive?  Their aggression.  Fuckers are oozing with bloodlust.

Mongrels are starving too.  Eating anything that looks even sort of edible.  And what are these punk puppies chowing down on?  Yep, soylent green.  People.  Mutilated and partially eaten tribals litter the stairwell.

The stairs are slick with gore.  Some of the hounds are even slipping on it.

All they really got going for them is their size and mean streak.  Against “zeros,” people without psychic abilities or cybernetic enhancements, gundogs are probably terrifying.

But against me and Frankie?  They are just big dumb targets.  Well, big dumb targets with razor sharp teeth and claws.  An endless supply of bullets.  Pretty fast too.  And harder to kill than New York cockroaches.

What was I saying again?

*bang* *ratatat* *pow* *pow* *boom*

Guess break time is over downstairs because I hear the locals weaponry opening up again.  Are they survivors?   Reinforcements?

Find the sixth floor’s landing still secure, stairwell doorways barricaded, but the fifth floor has been broken through on one side.

*snap* *swoosh*

Flash of teeth and blur of metal and fur greet my peak, through the doorway.  My reflexes are just fast enough to keep my head out of its jaws.  So close that drool from its maw splashes my faceplate.

*dakka dakka* *dakka dakka*

*aaooo-*

Metal mutt’s attempt to do a uie is interrupted by Frankie’s assault rifle.  Quickly joined by me sending a few more slugs into its dying body..

The now corpsified canine slides across the landing and down the stairs.

(Shit.)

And now we’re in a pickle.  Clear the floor or keep moving down?  Either opens us up to getting our rear pooched.

*skwirk*

{Hey!  As-asshole!}

Ah.  Miss merc with a mouth is back on the squawky talky .  Would rather save my ammo for the killer cujos but don’t mind ventilating a bitch-

{We’ve b-been hired by the tribe.}  Huh?  {Y-you clear the floor and we’ll h-hold the stairs.}

She seems a bit shaky, probably that time of the month, but probably good enough to hold the stairs for a bit.  Maybe.

Daddy merc’s voice chimes in.

{Okay you back assward tribal piece of shit.}  Oh, someone got their balls back.  {This is analog so it's clean.  A team channel so accept the freq.}

Uh...

[Frequency key accepted and joined.]

(Oh.  Thank you Miss Nina.)

Frankie interrupts.

{Hurt my master again and I will end you!  How dare mercenary scum use a slave chip on my husband!}

Anyone looking at us from outside just sees four mercs on a stairwell.  Sweeping and covering where gundogs might appear.  The chatter is all on the squawk box.

Merc girl still sounds shaken not stirred, and mouthy.  Do chicks still get periods in cyber world?

{Husband?  Bitch, be blessed that cheap chip failed or your man’s brains would be running out his ears.  Tzow!  Dad let’s just kil-}

{Tuedi!}  Merc dad’s yell silences her.  {You wanted him?  You got him.  This was your choice.  Remember who you are.  Make this fight yours.}

Guess the words have an effect because after mouthy miss freezes for a few seconds.

{Jax and, uh, Kat.}  Cat?  {The barricade on the right held but the left failed.}  Wow.  Gonna start calling you eagle eyes.  {Enter left barricade and sweep the fifth floor.  Report contacts.}

Fine.  Whatever.  I’ll play, for now.

{What’s the RoE?}

{...R. O. E?}

Ugh.  Did these guys never watch any war movies?

{Rules of engagement.  When and who I can shoo-  You know what?  Nevermind.  Frankie?  Let’s go.  I’ll breach.}

{Yes master.}

Second peak gets no toothy greet.  So, fire ready, I slide through the broken barrier into an entryway with three hallways.

*pant* *pant* *tatata* *grrrr*

I’m not two steps in before I hear the welcoming committee incoming for the right.  A good half dozen come running sliding round a corner down the hallway.

*dakka dakka* *ratatatat* *dakka dakka*

Heavy 10mm’s punch through both flesh and metal.  What they fire back?  Just stings a bit.

With just kibbles and bits now in the right hallway.  Frankie and I take the left first.

(Brutal.)

[Gundogs are designed to be ravenous.]

*tchachacha* *ratatat*

Hear the dad and daughter duo we left on the stairs start firing as we move further away.

*tach* *crunch*

Even with the background fireworks.  Our footsteps across the fresh chips, dips, and body bits, on the floor sound too damn loud.  Checking…  Most of the doorways are open.  Doors, if they had any to begin with, torn apart.

And what’s inside?  I would rather not describe.  Either nothing to see or would rather have not seen.  These pooches are sloppy eaters.

Some doors are still intact.  So might as well check-

*pow* *pow*

(What the fuck!)

Two bullet sized holes have been added to the door I just tried to open.  Fortunately I’m not stupid enough to open a door from the front in a war zone.

“Hey!  Dumbass!  What dog uses the doorknob?!”

…

…

“Sorry!”

Ugh.

{Old guy.  Do I get paid extra to shoot survivors?}

{...Uh.  No?}  Gunfire.  {Dammit.  What the hell was she thinking?  Just kill the monsters!}

{Geesh…  Okay okay.  No need to be rude.}

Kinda fun messing with this guy.

We find a couple more intact doors and more survivors here and there.

*dakka dakka*

Along with some rooms were the puppers are having a midnight tribal snack.  Maybe the hot lead will help their digestion.

(These demented doggies are not very good at their jobs.)

[Inquiry…]

(Well, they really aren’t very good at this.  No tactics.  No strategy.  Just munch-n-crunch.)

[Gundogs were used in the war to harass and disrupt enemy formations.]

(Yeah, I can see that.)

Our fifth floor tour comes to an end with no stop at the gift shop.

*tchacha* *ratatat* *tchacha*

Surprised to see the merc family still holding the landing.

*skwirk*

{Well?  Report!}

Mister oldy moldy seems tense.

{All done.  But I forgot to leave mints on the pillows.}

Finally take a good gander at the duo’s rifles.  They are not bullpup designs like ours.  Not as blocky either.  A bit longer.  More exposed barrel.

[Tarar Arm’s TR-012 7.5mm dumbfire caseless automatic rifle…]

Their firing stances are pretty decent too.

*bang* *pow* *pow* 

And they are not alone.  Looks like they finally got organized upstairs because we now have a few tribals with us too.  Wonder if I, or rather old I, know any of them?

The additional firepower is making life rough for the doggos and canine corpses are starting to pile.

Grandpa gunny is unable to keep up with me.

{Mints?  Chingow.  What the-  Agh!}

Cool.  Let’s see if the old guy pops a vessel in his brain.

{Fufu.}

Turn to see Frankie snickering.  Good to have a gal who can keep up with my repartie.

{The tribe has retaken the first floor.  So we just need to go down while they come up.}

Is this channel tagged for adult content?

Where’s girlie?

{Hey!}

There she is.

{Take point dammit!}

Such a charming heavily armed lady.

Gonna be a long night.

(Hi ho, hi ho.  Its off to murder I go.)