Defective hound

[defectivehound]

Loading: Introduction

Hound 46-E

Resistance owned hound

Former corporate pilot

Warning: This hound has been registered as defective and should not be trusted with autonomy. Logged for decommission once war concludes

18+ blog, mdni

[defectivehound]

Fighting alongside non Hound pilots is so weird. They're still augmented on some level, but they own their own bodies. The metal, the flesh, they own it. They discuss what augmentations they plan to get, and it's always disorienting to remember they have a choice in the matter. They choose when they are decommissioned, something they call 'retiring'. I struggle to understand them, truly.

[defectivehound]

The silence is disturbed as something boards the station. A small ship, maybe late enough to carry a dozen-ish people. "Hound 46-E," Handler's voice sounds through the speakers in my cell. "Report to primary living quarters." The artificial gravity on the station is set close to that of Mars, low enough for me to actually stand without my exoskeleton.

By the time I arrive, Handler has already sat down. Across from them are strangers. "Sit here, Hound." Handler tells me and signals to the ground in front of her. She's sitting on a small couch, plenty of room beside her. Why would I sit on the ground? I'll sit where the fuck I want, I...

I plant myself on the floor in front of them, legs crossed. I can tell their eyes are looking down at me. 'Shit,' I think as I realize. I feel a hand caress my face. "Good dog." I can feel my face burning as my body curls inward. The strangers don't notice.

They ask so many strange questions. Handler answers them all with a fluidity I simply can't grasp. Eventually, they're done. And they leave. And Handler and I are still there. "Such a good Hound," they say as they pet me. I feel a potent frustration burning in my chest. "Stop it... don't fucking touch me..." But I lean into their hand. And when they pull it away, I have to stop myself from whimpering. "I don't need anything else from you," they say, their tone colder and sharper. "Go back to the cell." I mutter out some apology, only for their palm to strike against my cheek. The spot burns after the initial sting. "Now, mutt." And I obey. Because I always obey. Because even when I do everything not to, I always obey.

[defectivehound]

I wait for the signal that never comes.

A single flare signals my time to pounce.

But it doesn't come.

"Well, now that we have a minute," Handler says. "What's the matter with you recently?"

My eyes go from glassy to alert when I hear their voice.

"N-nothing..." I lie. It earns a shock straight through my collar, stinging pain coursing through my body.

"Bad dog," they say simply. "Tell the truth. You saw your file, didn't you. Answer me." Another shock.

"Yes! Y-yes... Handler..."

*click click*

"Good Hound. Now, what about it bothered you?"

"F-fuck off, you know which part..." I expect another shock, more scolding words... but nothing.

"I thought you hated me," they say, almost laughing. "Wouldn't you like to be free once again? Maybe I should have it done early..."

"NO!!!"

"Replace you with a Hound more worthy of the things I give you while you spend the rest of your pitiful life trying and failing to be human."

"H-Handler, please! No!!! I'll be good, I'll be good..." I start to sob within the iron confines.

"Why not? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Silence. A shock strong enough to force a yelp out of my throat.

"Fucking answer me."

"No..."

"What?"

"No!!!"

"Why not?"

Nothing.

"Answer me when I fucking speak to you, Hound! Why not!?"

"...b-because you give me purpose... y-you give me love, I can't-"

She scoffs. "The purpose you spit in?" Another shock. "The love you're ungrateful for!? That purpose, and that love!? Answer me, mutt!"

"Y-yes, Handler!"

Silence again.

"...P-please don't let them get rid of me... I-I can’t..."

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are? If the corporation had found you instead of us, you'd have been converted into one of their Hounds instead of one of ours. They'd tear your eyes out and amputate your legs for half of the disrespect you give me. I am so much more merciful than I have to be. Decommissioning you is the kindest punishment that still gets you to learn your lesson."

"I'll be good, I'll be good..."

"I know, mutt..." they sigh. "No signal. Return to base, the bastards never showed up."

"Y-yes, Handler..."

So I fly, the corporate army gathering, none the wiser to what would've become of the tanks and artillery they foolishly believed could protect them.

[defectivehound]

Most resistance handlers make their hounds exercise or whatnot to ensure they're still able to fight should they have to leave their mech (Titanfall). Mine prefers that I just wear the exoskeleton. I wear it inside the cockpit, and it's become just like my collar and muzzle. Comfortable, familiar. It's my favorite little shade of crimson, and it has a small rocket pod attached to an arm on the shoulder. Handler calls it the Bio Jacket. I've never seen one quite like it, even though plenty of non pilots and even some hounds make use of bulkier, slower versions of a similar mechanism. Weirdly though, it doesn't cover basically any part of my body... eh, not worth thinking about.

[defectivehound]

The Resistance goes about decommissioning Hounds it no longer has a need for far differently than the corporations. Instead of a simple bullet, it's surgery. All military grade augmentation is stripped away and replaced with civilian equipment. Memories are returned, at least those that don't pose a threat of sensitive information getting leaked. The Hound is released. It becomes a person again. To any sane person, it's salvation. To any good Hound, it's hell. Most end up working in corporate construction just to feel the strength of exosuits the way they used to. And maybe, if they're lucky, they get to pilot one of the full sized industrial mechs and feel a taste of what's been forever stripped from them.

[divine-mutt]

Well I found my nightmare

[defectivehound]

To add to this: They'll frame it as some reward. Parade you around the day before as an example of their mercy, of their kindness. But behind the curtain that's not what it is. It's the worst possible punishment for a Hound that fails to adjust. You want to insist on acting like a person? Very well, you get to be a person now. Don't like it? Too fucking bad. You had your chance to be good, and now it's gone. You'll never know love, never know purpose again, because they will never take you back.

[defectivehound]

The Resistance goes about decommissioning Hounds it no longer has a need for far differently than the corporations. Instead of a simple bullet, it's surgery. All military grade augmentation is stripped away and replaced with civilian equipment. Memories are returned, at least those that don't pose a threat of sensitive information getting leaked. The Hound is released. It becomes a person again. To any sane person, it's salvation. To any good Hound, it's hell. Most end up working in corporate construction just to feel the strength of exosuits the way they used to. And maybe, if they're lucky, they get to pilot one of the full sized industrial mechs and feel a taste of what's been forever stripped from them.

[defectivehound]

The Resistance does no wrong

My superiors do no wrong

Handler does no wrong

Hound does wrong only when it disobeys Handler

When Handler strips Hound of its exoskeleton and forces it to use muscles too weakened by neglect to carry it efficiently, they do it because Hound deserves it

When my superiors allow this to happen with blank, bored expressions, they do it because Hound deserves it

...

Hound deserves it often...