[Guard Dog #0212 "Stitches"]

Hound Designation: Guard Dog #0212 - Social Name: Stitches - Guard-dog posting 24/7 - Hangar 321's resident Search And Rescue expert - Pilot of XSR-530 HATI "Happily Goneward" - They/It/She/He - 20-something

[rescuehound]

Pilot Dossier

18+ Mechsploitation/Houndposting Blog - Minors DNI

[Designation] - Guard Dog #0212

[Social Name/Callsign] - Stitches

[Pronouns] - They/It/She/He

[Task/Purpose] - Search and Rescue/Pararescue

[Chassis Assignment] - XSR-530 HATI "Happily Goneward" modified heavy assault/recon quadruped chassis

[Hound Bio] - Greetings, all. Welcome to my little den on this corner of the omninet. Take a minute, stay awhile, this corner of the kennels is pretty safe. My designation is Guard Dog #0212, however my callsign is "Stitches", and that's what most of the squad calls me. I've been piloting a chassis for the better part of a decade now, and I've seen many waves of pups cycle through this hangar bay. Started out in a run-of-the-mill DRAUGR-class light reconnaissance/assault quadruped, back when I was still a pup myself, and now I pilot my beloved HATI. If you go down out in the field, it's my job to get you back. High command may not care about you but the chassis costs money. Bringing you back is just a happy side effect that my handler appreciates. Plus, I hate to see a packmate in danger. So! Stay a bit, have some caffiene, hear a story or two from this old rehabed hound, and if you go down out there, know that Stitches is coming to put ya back together.

Good Hunting, packmates. May the sky shelter you, and the wind carry you to your prey. Go taste some blood.

Stitches out.

(edit - fixed some spelling issues)

[titaniaumbriel]

Being a support hound is the fucking best you get to be useful to the killing machines on the field and can help quickly repair them in to somewhat manoeuvrable state

Maybe if this one's lucky it'll be able to train with the mechanics to help improve this one's ability to repair others quickly on the field

[rescuehound]

Yeah!!! Fellow support hound!! Appreciate the work you do, comrade

[yallstillhere]

Come get this dick-fil-a

[yallstillhere]

I’m tired of y'all reblogging this every Sunday

[yallstillhere]

One of you shit heads are saving this post and waiting until Sunday to reblog it

I will fucking find you

[the-dragonian]

hey! Guess what? It’s sunday

[your-local-blackhole]

>:3

[pilot-5513-jester]

Hound excitedly asking its Handler, "Can we keep it??" in regards to the rebel pilot it just captured.

Is this anything?

[divine-mutt]

Ngl the idea of being a hounds toy equivalent that to a stick they found in the woods sounds really lovely

[pilot-5513-jester]

Doesn't it, though?

[yallstillhere]

Come get this dick-fil-a

[yallstillhere]

I’m tired of y'all reblogging this every Sunday

[yallstillhere]

One of you shit heads are saving this post and waiting until Sunday to reblog it

I will fucking find you

[the-dragonian]

hey! Guess what? It’s sunday

[your-local-blackhole]

>:3

[rescuehound]

It's Sunday =3

[hemipenal-system]

i fucking love Car Lesbians man its the funniest damn ttrpg ive ever seen. the knowledge it came from 4chan explains literally every damn thing about it

[hemipenal-system]

some of my favorite bits from Car Lesbians:

and as a bonus:

[hemipenal-system]

ok but if wolves are dangerous predators then why am i so soft hm

[hemipenal-system]

“you shouldn’t interact with wolves because they become dangerous if they stop being scared of people” wrongggg pet me im fluffy as fuck

[hc-503]

handler: Sartha, how many rebels does it take to change a lightbulb?

sartha: ???

handler: None. They're too busy changing their gender. *walks away cuntily*

sartha: !!?? ??!!??!??!!

[rescuehound]

Brilliant

[rescuehound]

I will die before I abandon my home

[cutecipher]

reblog if its okay for people to send you $5,000 dollars with no strings attached

[cutecipher]

btw if anyone gets $5,000 because of this post, you're welcome.

[apuffofpink]

Classic rock from a few centuries ago fills the cockpit of Stargazer as the mech trails the squad it’s pilot was assigned to. Inside, with her comms switched to push to talk, Foxglove would softly speak the words to herself. It’s a song she’s listened to many times on patrols and in the midst of live combat.

“He just flies the bomber, he never sees their eyes when the hell comes down..”

For once, all the hardpoints of Foxglove’s mech would be occupied. Handler had made sure that she got her pick of additional weapons and equipment for the mech, which was a benefit she gladly took advantage of.

[Scouts estimate contact in three minutes. Be ready.]

Would come the voice of the squad’s leader to his subordinates - it was Lieutenant Grassley, yet another transfer from Outskirts Territories 14. He was one of the officers that 204 actually got along quite well with. He’s a sensible man, and a surprisingly competent officer.

The plan was simple. Many of the Imperial units were advancing through the woods, separated into individual squads so they wouldn’t get bogged down too much if any of the squads encountered forward defences. And, upon reaching the edge of the treeline, weapons free would be declared for the assault on the mercenary base. Foxglove and her particular unit, which included the Lieutenant and Doodle, was taking the far left flank of the advance, but they did have the comms from the other squads open in case reinforcements were needed.

[thehangarqueen]

As the flanking squadron begins to emerge from the tree, a powerful lance of energy erupts towards them, coring one of the newer scouts who hadn't been paying attention due to nerves.

[Sup fuckheads, time to have some fun! Mother Hen, Cassowary, we engage now!]

From behind some defensive barriers, emerged Hearthkeeper and Snapleg, belonging to Hen and Cassowary respectively.

Hearthkeeper immediately took to the skies, peeling out and coming back around for a strafe, as it showered the chassis below it in incendiary SMG rounds.

Snapleg on the other hand, took a different approach: charging full tilt into the scouts and putting it's leg through a medium-chassis in one kick; the digitigrade legs having been heavily focused on for power, while it's arms held a large combat shotgun.

Foliage, chassis of Jaw the active Gator, was unseen.

[apuffofpink]

And suddenly, the comms came alight alongside the barrels of nearly every gun in the unit. Some of the newer pilots could be heard cursing, screaming, or otherwise panicking on the Imperial frequency. Grassley, to his credit, was doing his best to keep things from devolving into too much chaos.

The Lieutenant’s frame, Romulus, ran forwards to meet Snapleg, a plasma sabre and claw shield held in the hands of the assault frame. Another frame holding a rifle provided covering fire for Grassley to close the gasp, whether it was effective fire or not was up to debate.

A couple of the scout chassis would fire their light machine guns up towards Hearthkeeper, although one would quickly be knocked down by the strafing run. Not dead, yet, but with hampered mobility.

Although one scout mech, one with a pink piece of shoulder armour, would dart away from the combat, taking a line around the main fighting, before it would purge it’s weapons and begin running towards the direction of the rebel base.

[Please. I want to surrender-! I don’t want to fight, please!]

A soft voice would call over open comms, fear obvious in her tone as the scout sounded like she was on the edge of sobbing.

And finally, the Vixen. Foxglove would stay back, a grin under the metal bars of her muzzle as she watched the chaos unfold. Her rail rifle would be kept lowered for the moment as she stayed back from the thick of it, seemingly waiting for something. She didn’t want to draw the ire of the harpies, after all, she said she’d spare who she could. And a Vixen can always be trusted with her word, right~?

[thehangarqueen]

[Damnit, intercepting; confirmed callsign, fuckin praying this ain't some bullshit. Deactivate your chassis, stand down, and exit!]

Foliage shimmered into view, the mimicry cloak switching from camouflage to 'shimmer', making it harder for sensors and visuals to confirm her exact form. Jaw drew her sidearm, a mech-sized 'hand' cannon, and closed the distance on the surrendering scout Hound.

Snapleg continued its assault on Romulus, mixing between devastating kicks, sweeps, punches, and the occasional shotgun blast, revealing that Cassowary loaded it with flechette rounds the size of the average human.

Hearthflame continued the assault, raining hell upon the scouts from the skies, but now strafing between multiple groups to further suppress them. The incendiary rounds had finally started to kick in: the forest was ablaze, and several mechs of different sizes began screaming as their pilots and engines cooked alive from the napalm.

[apuffofpink]

The reply Jaw would get would be an indiscernible mix of sniffling, ‘thank you’s, and pleading. The Hound inside the scout mech seemed to be a bit less.. programmed, than your average Imperial Hound. Definitely has witnessed one too many fights, though.

The slim reconnaissance frame would begin to power down, the light of its visor beginning to dim as the reactor spooled down. A few stray rifle shots would land around the two mechs, either from Doodle’s comrades who noticed the attempt at defection, or just unintentionally overspray from those fighting the two harpies.

Romulus, and the man piloting it, proved to be quite an incredibly duelist against Snapleg, at least as far as an unaugmented human could be. The brutal attacks were parried, blocked, and met with ripostes of a nearly Olympic level. Of course, that’s not to say he’s flawless. Some armour panels had some quite large gashes, and a forearm panel on the sabre-wielding arm had been dislodged entirely, and the armour of the shield had seen better days. However, the claw still functioned, and during one reciprocal attack, Grassley would move to grab one Snapleg’s namesake legs.

The scouts and a couple of the assault mechs continued to fire into the air as they attempted to get out of the way of the hellstorm raining down, men being baked alive in metal coffins if they couldn’t move in time. Unfortunately for the Imperials, it seems none of this squad were packing proper AA.

Foxglove would sigh quietly, reaching up to a storage compartment in her mech’s cockpit. Out of it, she’d take a small, cylinder object, with a bright red button on top protected by a flip-up cap. She’d enhance one of her monitor’s view of the scout mutt and the Gator, before flipping the cap of the detonator up, and then back down. She’d repeat the motion a couple times, sighing to herself as she waited to see if the opportunity would get any better.

[thehangarqueen]

[THIS IS MY HOME! NONE SHALL CLAIM HOME!] came roars from the opens comms of Hearthflame as it continued setting the once beautiful forests ablaze. She'd even begun dropping white phosphorous upon the assault mechs when they'd proved to be stubborn in their durability. Was fire a weapon of cruelty? Yes, but in the eyes of Mother Hen, they also purified. And the Imperials were a corrupting force that deserved such fates as far as she cared.

Cassowary quickly proved just how crazy she was, when, after getting her leg grabbed, proceeded to detach it and full tilt her boosters, slamming Snapleg's boosters to max and forcing him to the ground. Unsheathing the heat blades in her arms, Cassowary began to carve into the cockpit of the enemy chassis with ferocity. This was her blood to claim, her fights to sweep through.

Jaw holstered her pistol and set down her energy rifle, approaching closer to the mech.

[Dot, right? You've followed orders, exfil approved, exit your chassis, I can carry you back to base.]

Foliage held a hand to the de-powered chassis' cockpit, and placed the other on the mech's should for stability and reassurance.

[We have a proper home for you, promise.]

[apuffofpink]

[Fuckfuckfuckfuck-]

A stream of cursing could be heard from Grassley over the imperial comms as his mech tumbled to the ground with Snapleg on top of it. The frame, bearing the crest of a noble Imperial family, would try it’s best to dislodge the Harpy from on top of it, but ultimately the mechanical body would go limp as it’s pilot was butchered in the cockpit.

Seeing this, and still being pelted by all matter of incendiary weapon from above, the squad would begin to fall back. Sporadic gunfire would still fly upwards towards Mother Hen, but the Imperials seemed more focus on saving their own skin. Unsurprisingly, a bunch of cowards, even despite one particularly brave Sergeant attempting to take over the lieutenant’s role as squad leader.

And, witnessing the unordered fleeing, Foxglove would simply sigh. Handler had been hoping for a bigger score from this plan, but this would have to do. To itself, the Vixen would murmur a quiet apology to its comrade, before flipping up the safety cap on the detonator one more time, before pressing the button atop with its thumb.

BOOM!!!

A fireball would suddenly emerge from nearly every part of Doodle’s mech, enveloping both her and Jaw in the sudden blast as shockwaves rippled through the air. Any airborne craft within one or two miles would feel the turbulence and shock from the detonation of not just a mech’s reactor, but also many more explosive charges hidden within the frame, not counting secondary explosions from ammunition or the Gator’s mech.

[thehangarqueen]

A silence rips across the battlefield following the explosion. Cassowary halts in her butchering of the already shredded chassis. Mother Hen landed to cool her boosters, only to suddenly whip around upon feeling the explosion.

Allied pilots, who'd been sent to back up Jaw in retrieving Doodle, were blasted back from the massive shockwave, stunned.

Over open comms, a terrified voice stammered out.

[J-Jaw? Jaw, please respond. Fist, her vitals went out, w-where'd that explosion come from?! JAW PLEASE RESPOND!!!] the voice of lock screamed over comms.

The sound of the Lock's cries screeched into the comms of those receiving it, before a second voice spoke.

[All units, this is Handler Fist.]

[The Imperials have deployed suicide bombers under possibly false surrender, or worse, sabotaging their known defectors.]

[To all Imperial soldiers who expected mercy or surrender, that is no longer an option. Your commanders have sealed your fates, we will not be taking further chances. All rebel and mercenary units, shoot to kill, leave no survivors.]

[Gator Jaw has been killed while performing an act of mercy.]

[Henceforth, none shall be given.]

[To pilot designated Foxglove, I have only this to say:]

[When you are found, I will break you. Personally.]

A second voice speaks.

[This is Director Adamant, Fist speaks with my authority.] [Death to the empire, show them what it means to fight as the dregs of their wars. Kill. Them. All.]

[hound-0451]

[This is Handler Leones. Rifle team switch to AP and HE rounds.. we're no longer taking names.. we're taking heads. make them hurt.]

[rescuehound]

[Fucking Imperial bastards, using fucking Rabbits. Where the fuck's their command and control? I need to tear the handler who thought of this to giblets.]

The chassis turned, dumping more chaff and electronic smoke to hopefully confuse the Titan's targeting system, before making a beeline for the remains of Gator Jaw's chassis.

[Runnin' triage, Baskervilles, cover me.]

[winter-196]

Atmospheric Entry

The skies were beautiful topside, stars shone brightly amidst the cloud. Hells, the moon was even full. A perfectly calm night, waiting for the storm to land.

Not many people consider the logistics, behind dropping a Colossal from orbit. Where to aim it, how to land properly. When to deploy the jet parachute, and so on and so forth. But boy was it an entrance.

A loud and low rumble echoed for miles as the mechanical fell, thrusters doing all they can to slow the inevitable. A beautiful corona of fire surrounding it's chassis, until finally. Impact.

The seismic event alone was enough to cause a major shift in tectonic plates. Even with how far out The Wall landed, it'd easily be felt on the mercenary base. And the sheer size of the behemoth, while the briefing said five stories tall. It was blatant, this mountain was more akin to thirty five stories tall. And from the size of the rupture in the ground where it landed, showed that the weight of one hundred twenty tonnes. Was missing a few zeros.

[Careful now Tasha, we don't want to scare away any prospects. No need for show boating.]

Crackled Her voice though The Wall's comma line, silky and smooth as always when She piloted Her Rose. Tasha couldn't help but smile, not having seen Her this happy for a sortie in ages. Hells, Tasha Kemynshki herself was excited. As normally her baby was only used during parades, but here she was. Finally getting to decimate more for Her, to Kill for Her. And she would see it through, as she fired off a salvo of shells larger than three adults a piece. Each one packed with enough explosives to destroy a bunker on their own, and arcing perfectly to landing on the mercenary base's tarmac position.

May as well ensure we get headstart, they'll be feeling that in an hour. Maybe two, we see.

The gruff woman spoke, all while picking up her Goddess's frame. Putting the significantly smaller mech on her shoulder, before finally setting off to the Imperial FOB placed a few miles north of their location.

[Knowing your history Tasha, those should all be spot on. Best hope you continue to impress me Ursa.]

Yes Sir, always do Sir.

[Good, let's continue to rendezvous now.]

And with that, The Last Colossus and Her leash holder were in play.

[thehangarqueen]

Almost as quickly as they'd been fired, the three massive rounds detonated in the air, off in the distance. Flashes of red were made known before their detonation. Despite being shot down, the air itself still shook from the explosions.

[Really? Artillery? No sense of fucking foreplay with you Imperials.]

Shortly after the open comm blurb, screams can be heard from a scout party, sent to infiltrate the rebel lines. Sounds of feral gnashing can be heard as the scouts shout obscenities, before being rendered silent.

[Today:]

[The Black Beast Of No-Man's Land reclaims her title.]

[winter-196]

Each intercepted shell brought fire to the darkness, the sky shattering shock waves visible even from the distance Hangar Queen was.

Well, that was anti-climatic...

[It seems Baskerville still can operate her bitch, now that puts a damper on things. Tasha, feel free to break budget. You needn't worry about warning shots, they've already intercepted those.]

Understood, unloading seven round salvo from Vlad.... Heading locked, safety off. Firing.

The Titan would heft up its normally mounted weapon, though in it's hands. The Vlad MkIV automatic siege cannon, looked slightly too small. Affixed with a chainsaw grip for mobility, and a built in recoil dampening system. It was apparent why these giants were hunted to termination.

The resounding waves of artificial thunder roared through the plains, the fireball behind every single round firing off. The weight of each shell slamming into the earth below, and the utter dread that every two seconds. Another adult sized round filled with over a ton of explosive filler, was snatched from the belt and fired off into the night. It seemed as if the mercenaries had angered one of the Gods, and they were sending a message.

loading rocket mortar pods seven through twelve.... electronic locks disengaged....firing.

As if the rain of men sized death wasn't enough, soon came the cacophonous howl. Over five hundred warheads streaked across the sky, all on their way to eradicate whatever the three eighty couldn't. While also giving Her opposition one last light show.

[When I told you to no longer worry about budgeting, I wasn't quite expecting you to go all out.]

You know me better than that, of course I go all out. Make them all dead, then we leave and I drink.

[Mmm... You would deserve a fresh bottle after this, don't fail me Tasha.]

Understood.

[thehangarqueen]

[ALL ANTI-ARTILLERY UNITS! SPRAY AND PRAY MANEUVERS]

Baskerville screamed over comms, trying to slow the deluge of munitions blanketing the sky.

Mercifully, those defensize lasers, flares, and flak sprayers would at least cut the shots down to a quarter, but still...

With only a quarter of those munitions left in the air, they still found home.

Even with a defensive energy barrier established, holes were punched, and the barrier fragmented rapidly as it was overwhelmed. That first salvo had been absorbed with minimal damage, but the next salvo, if fired too fast, would be unblockable.

Baskerville needed to act NOW.

[Alright Imperial bastards, you wanna play rough? Let's play.]

Within her cockpit, Baskerville flipped two switches:

One, a switch to open a hidden compartment, containing a red injector labelled CONTEMPT.

The other, a system switch tagged {FOG OF WAR}.

Baskerville slammed the injector into her neck, and flipped the system to active.

With her rapid approach now putting her ahead of the rest of the rebels, she needs this to stay active.

VARGR's nanite reserves roar, as they switch from repair to FOG OF WAR protocol.

VARGR roars up at the colossus and it's master, as a cloak of black nanites swarms the chassis, like a beast from a horrid myth. A mane of angry bugs, wreathing a beast of horrid war.

[winter-196]

Splash report, splash down achieved. Roughly twenty seven percent made it, asset Baskerville inbound and fast. Send in third volley?

[No, draw the mutt out. Then once she's close enough, erase her. I'll use the explosions to guide her into a shot, then ensure either pilot termination or that VARGR will be back in Imperial hands. Or both even, if I'm as good as I was.]

Understood, let them come.

Were the only words Tasha said, before her mountain began the slow process of reloading each weapon system. Knowing that the distance between her and Baskerville, would take any ground based mech a few minutes to reach.

Withered rose however.

Would find itself nestled right on the flat left shoulder of The Wall. Popping shots at any unfortunate pilot to cross her sights. All while the woman inside hummed softly, to the tunes of her classical music.

[Tsk....and here I thought you were happy with your new life, with the miserable wretch that made you. Don't worry Baskerville, you'll be coming home soon enough Hound.]

[thehangarqueen]

[Hrrrrngh... are you fuckin braindead?! You mean my ex that blew my kidney and jaw out?! The imperial bitch I loved and still is within your program?! Faust didn't make me this, she just helped me recover. I'm my own bitch now, let me demonstrate!!!]

Faster than expected, VARGR entered into close proximity to The Wall and Withered Rose. The easy part was done. Now came the hard part.

Making these two dance until @heckeronincheese and @rescuehound could arrive with reinforcements.

[hound-0451]

[Fire. ]

a piercing white shot rings across the field showering the behemoth in white sparks [This is Hot Sauce over. I'd step back. You are in Party favor range]

[TO YOUR LEFT!] Another shining shot slams through an imperial leaving half the chassis a miserable pile of slag [Thanks Leones .... man I forgot how much I missed phosphorus rounds..]

[time to make these impatient fucks learn some manners, over]

[thehangarqueen]

[Roger, backing off. Converting some backup materials into FOG OF WAR, might need it incase this bitch decides to take a shot while the party favour comes in.]

VARGR, having fulfilled it's primary objective, makes a full retreat back whence it came, having savaged the left leg of The Wall.

[hound-0451]

[oh Baskerville you'll love this part.. that eyesore of a wall is standing on the favor. Time to see what an old 2 kiloton shell does to what's left of that leg. 451. its time.] the hound snickers as she pulls the detonator out watching the ugly titan step right onto the spot. [enjoy the fireworks!] With one click for a second the sky is drowned in a white hot flash as the old nuclear payload swallows the left side of the wall. as the ground shakes and the sky screams with fiery breath [ahhhh i missed using these things....]

[thehangarqueen]

[AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA FUCK YOU YA STUPID WALKING BULLET MAGNET!!!!!!]

[hound-0451]

before the mushroom cloud could even falter comms lights up

[ALLRIGHT. WHILE THEYRE DASED FIRE THE NEXT VOLLEY! ]

seven red streaks scream across the sky before smacking into the wall one by one. [ill fucking show you the meaning of kicking a dog while it's down.. Phoenix unit move in!] the silhouettes of 13 chassis come sliding down the ridge from a distance [this is Phoenix Actual! saw the signal from the fuckin hangar doors over.]

[rescuehound]

At the head of the pack, chin gun spewing coilgun rounds in a cyan-hued arc of lightning, shoulder missiles launching chaff like their life depended on it, came HATI, charging happily, happily, happily goneward.

Artillery rounds sunk into the faint shimmer of her energy shield, detonating somewhat harmlessly above the oncoming chassis before it could send one of her packmates to a farm upstate.

[This is Stitches, on station, ma'am. Stand by for fireworks.]

The multi-use missile silo that ran along HATI's spine poured out smoke, and then fire, and then steel rain as guided rounds rattled off of their racks like a Katyusha launcher of old.

The rounds rose, blanketing the sky, before shattering into glittering pieces of shrapnel, glowing fragments of white phosphorus, and the distinctive glow of greywash-based jamming chaff. The wolf-like HATI dove onto the field, approach covered by chaff and energy fields, till it stood side-by-side with the battle line. This was it. War Pigs blared over Goneward's speakers.

[XSR-540 HATI on station, ready for tasking. Let's get those fucking Imperial bastards.]

[rescuehound]

[Pilot's Log - GD#0212 - 0245 HOURS]

Welp. If we're gonna potentially die today...

Time to go back to my roots, get high on stims, find a copy of HOUNDERY monthly and hopefully not make a mess "running personal self-diagnostics" in the cockpit.

this is gonna be a mess to clean later

[Stitches out]

[winter-196]

[Imperial Invasion Debrief]

[We know we're not the most trustworthy pilot, especially after...being outed and coming out as an Imperial spy... Can't say we're proud of our former allegiance, but....former is what it will be staying. However, we know better than anyone else what is getting deployed. While an entire battalion of Imperial pilots and Hounds is terrifying enough, we're mostly worried about the flagships.

H...mh...Handler Anika's Withered Rose, and Her pet's big stompy siege mech that is probably older than anything else here. Let's start off with the Rose, it's a light weight chassis. Outfitted with enough electronic warfare to halt most mechs in their tracks, one direct hit from her needle rifle. And your mech is Her's if you have average software, and yes. That means if you have neural interface, you will get one massive fucking headache. Her second armaments are standard for a Handler's chassis, a rail pistol for close range, and an unnecessary amount of missiles and canister bombs. Both of which contain mind altering chemicals, which...needless to say. Will make piloting harder.

However She's always hidden behind or around The Wall. We're going to be honest.... That may be what kills us....standing at a healthy five to six stories tall, weighing in at almost one hundred and twenty tonnes. The Wall is not something to solo, with enough armor that even 25mm Shrike doesn't penetrate at Mach 10. A 380mm revolver cannon designed to single handedly take out old imperial outposts, automated anti aircraft emplacements all over this beefy bitch. Mortar systems to level grunt encampments.... Yeah this thing is a nightmare...

So the plan is. @heckeronincheese We've heard you're a good shot, don't fall to Anika. Take out Withered Rose as soon as able, prevent her from feeding her Ursa. Then @thehangarqueen can use VARGR's speed, and relatively smaller chassis size. To keep the Ursa's attention...from there... The cock pit is offset on the Titan, done so purposely because the engineers behind it thought it'd be a clever way to increase survivability...however ...that means she's weaker from the left side.. Our advice is to heat up the metal with thermite, chip away her left side....then send home a bunker buster into her. Easier said than done, considering that these things almost were the cause of the Empires downfall... And yes ... we'll need more than just two pilots. Admittedly, this may be a rather big group project... If we are cleared for action ... we'll step in and be a distraction. Goodness knows our presence would... Would stir up a hornets nest with Tasha...

Anyways, are there any questions?

[hound-0451]

Finally get to truly show why im called hotsauce. ....I fuckin looove incendiary munitions...

[rescuehound]

[Aye. Besides from providing medical, good ol' HATI's chassis is pretty low tech, considering she's essentially a Rabbit chassis minus the nukes, should we be helping with Rose?] [Other than that, any other assignments?] [Also. If we get out of this alive, I'm making stew for everyone. Not the MRE kind, not even the mess hall kind, the good shit. A win here's gonna be worthy of celebration. For hounds and handlers alike.] [ -Stitches]

[winter-196]

Stitches! Wonderful of you to be here! Right no, don't help with Rose. Whatsoever, low tech means she can jack your mech easier. Each needle is essentially one giant parasitic data spike, it kills what's in the mech, then assumes control...so..No, we'd like you alive and on our side. You're going to be on support for taking...hehehe... You're helping us take down The Wall Buddy. Essentially if anyone gets hit too hard, drag them out. Tasha double taps, and not a single chassis on base can eat a 380mm HE.

[rescuehound]

[Dear gods. That's terrifying, absolutely understood.] [Might hook up the field generator on Happily Goneward today. Every advantage we can get, I say.] [As for dragging folks out? The personnel of this base are my pack now, and I'm not gonna leave packmates behind to die. That I can swear on wholeheartedly. No one's getting left behind.]

[winter-196]

[Imperial Invasion Debrief]

[We know we're not the most trustworthy pilot, especially after...being outed and coming out as an Imperial spy... Can't say we're proud of our former allegiance, but....former is what it will be staying. However, we know better than anyone else what is getting deployed. While an entire battalion of Imperial pilots and Hounds is terrifying enough, we're mostly worried about the flagships.

H...mh...Handler Anika's Withered Rose, and Her pet's big stompy siege mech that is probably older than anything else here. Let's start off with the Rose, it's a light weight chassis. Outfitted with enough electronic warfare to halt most mechs in their tracks, one direct hit from her needle rifle. And your mech is Her's if you have average software, and yes. That means if you have neural interface, you will get one massive fucking headache. Her second armaments are standard for a Handler's chassis, a rail pistol for close range, and an unnecessary amount of missiles and canister bombs. Both of which contain mind altering chemicals, which...needless to say. Will make piloting harder.

However She's always hidden behind or around The Wall. We're going to be honest.... That may be what kills us....standing at a healthy five to six stories tall, weighing in at almost one hundred and twenty tonnes. The Wall is not something to solo, with enough armor that even 25mm Shrike doesn't penetrate at Mach 10. A 380mm revolver cannon designed to single handedly take out old imperial outposts, automated anti aircraft emplacements all over this beefy bitch. Mortar systems to level grunt encampments.... Yeah this thing is a nightmare...

So the plan is. @heckeronincheese We've heard you're a good shot, don't fall to Anika. Take out Withered Rose as soon as able, prevent her from feeding her Ursa. Then @thehangarqueen can use VARGR's speed, and relatively smaller chassis size. To keep the Ursa's attention...from there... The cock pit is offset on the Titan, done so purposely because the engineers behind it thought it'd be a clever way to increase survivability...however ...that means she's weaker from the left side.. Our advice is to heat up the metal with thermite, chip away her left side....then send home a bunker buster into her. Easier said than done, considering that these things almost were the cause of the Empires downfall... And yes ... we'll need more than just two pilots. Admittedly, this may be a rather big group project... If we are cleared for action ... we'll step in and be a distraction. Goodness knows our presence would... Would stir up a hornets nest with Tasha...

Anyways, are there any questions?

[hound-0451]

Finally get to truly show why im called hotsauce. ....I fuckin looove incendiary munitions...

[rescuehound]

[Aye. Besides from providing medical, good ol' HATI's chassis is pretty low tech, considering she's essentially a Rabbit chassis minus the nukes, should we be helping with Rose?] [Other than that, any other assignments?] [Also. If we get out of this alive, I'm making stew for everyone. Not the MRE kind, not even the mess hall kind, the good shit. A win here's gonna be worthy of celebration. For hounds and handlers alike.] [ -Stitches]

[rescuehound]

Two Hours to Go Time - 0200 HOURS

Stitches put all of their effort into their final, loving touches and last bits of polishing on a beautiful, rugged, compact Summit Armory XM109 CAAWS anti-materiel rifle.

The weapon was an antique, by Imperial standards. With chemical propellant, 14mm rounds, and wood-and-steel construction, the rifle was, to most pilots, a relic of a bygone age where the vast majority of hound-fights got into grappling range. Thus, the most effective tactic available at the time was to attempt to tear the enemy pilot out of their cockpit by force. A so-called "Personal Defense Weapon", the CAAWS was supposed to give the pilot who was about to be torn out of their seat a last line of defense before becoming a red mist.

It also happened to be wonderful for dismounted use in disabling the joints on enemy chassis.

Stitches chambered a large RAUFOSS armor-piercing explosive round and hit the bolt release, sending the round home with a satisfying ca-chunk. It glanced through the scope, nodding grimly, before locking the weapon into the mounts on the side of her mech's cabin.

The quiet hum of the spooling reactor is somewhat shattered as an old, most likely self-requisitioned boombox roared to life in the back of the cabin, pouring out the rambling melody of a shipbreaker's banjo and lilting hum, as Stitches ran Happily Goneward's pre-flight diagnostics.

Hydraulics? Check. Synthetic mesh shock-absorbers? Check. Missile racks? Warming up. Chin-mounted coilgun? Locked and loaded. Stims? Acquired. Hotel? Trivago. Nerves? Absolutely fucking shot.

Stitches ran a hand across her face, wiping the sweat off of their brow and fingering at the edges of their old combat muzzle. It was heavily worn, but it was real leather, something that was a rare commodity out that far. It wouldn't have worn the mask anymore, now that it was a freelancer, but the muzzle was also its main auxiliary oxygen source, so they kept it. It reminded them of her, but they chose not to think of that right now.

Right now they were going to war. They were gonna be doing their job, like so many times before. Bringing comrades, defectors and even enemies alike to safety, even as the chainguns fired overhead.

But this was different. This wasn't a border skirmish, or a fight with a fellow PMC, this was against the Empire. Its former allies. The ones who had broken its will time and time again, sent it into meat-grinders over and over till the sheer amount of accumulated scars gave it its new callsign. Stitches. Covered with 'em from neck to ankles.

It was a chance to fight back, a chance for revenge. It should have felt amazing. Stitches was sure of that. They wanted to fight back. But.. in that moment, all they felt was anxiety, stress and fear. She un-clipped one side of the muzzle and brought a cigarette to her lips.

Hangar Queen was gonna kill her one of these days for that habit, she mused. But there and then? They didn't care. They didn't wanna go back. What if the Empire captured them again? What would they do to her? Would they try to make him a full-fledged hound again? Stick her in a Rabbit frame and send him flying into Broadsword with a nuke strapped to her back? Or maybe they'd just kill him. Or worse. Maybe they wouldn't kill them right away. Maybe the Empire would keep her alive long enough to make an example.

Stitches wasn't sure which was worse.

Regardless, the Guard Dog shook their head. All this meant was that surrender wouldn't be an option. They were pretty sure Baskervilles, Hot Sauce, Leones, Fist, Mandragora and the rest would agree.

It was good to be fighting alongside real allies again. If we win? I'm getting them ALL drinks.

It was gonna be a long day. And there were still two hours to go.

[hound-0451]

They haven't changed.....

tossing your Hounds to die?

why old girl? got bored with your toy?

You fuckers wonder why I faked my death 25 years ago. my work was not worth your spit. ...you forced my hand, yes.. either join your fucking program or you'll hand me to the last corporation my work sent me to hit.. you fucking knew my agency has the policy if I got made. I was erased...

quick death or plausibly slow drawn out death.

I did as you wanted.. I gave you two batches of hounds.

they had talent and potential. I'll admit I was proud of them...

but that wasn't enough to the likes of you..

one by one... if they didn't preform to your liking you made me decommission them. you made me look them in the eyes.

you made ME tell them I failed them otherwise I was next...

I didn't fail them. your cold dead hearts did. sorry I was never cut to be like the other cold leather clad cunts you had..

so I decided to get my last laugh. packed my research

grabbed a body from the morgue, dressed it in a spare uniform and rigged my office to blow..

did a good job huh? incendiary device rigged to make it look like a gas leak. hot enough to leave no teeth for records....

bribed a young pilot to take me as far away... far from your bullshit.

got shot down above this rock..

he didn't make it.. I barely did..

his chassis lays between the two bases.. I visit it once a year to pay my respects.. thank you Blind Eagle you died doing the right thing...... not long after trying to walk to the nearest base I got picked up and brought here...

the only reason they didn't kill me? I promised them I'd provide some perfect hounds... batches 3 and 4.. despite their quirks and personality the outfit loved them.. treated them mostly like other members.. they shared my view.. they're living just like you and I.

I don't blame them for not trusting me at first. leather clad cunt found in independent space.. but slowly more and more defectors came... some management shifts... and merging with smaller merc groups..

i kept the jacket as a reminder.... but I replaced the emblem with theirs....it's message was fitting "what doesn't kill me had better run"

i only had 451 wipe out the outfit she arrived here with years ago because I found out they became deeply seated in the pockets of some imperial corporations ...they'd sell this base out to the highest bidder if asked...

I took my title from an old fable... Ponce De Leon and the fountain of eternal youth....

because I got a second chance.. a new life..

I give my hounds second chances and would train them further if they need it.. I gave them the well deserved praise.. not the fake shit you gave yours to keep them in your pocket...

now the bastards want to take from me again..

I'm not letting that happen.

you can take my research and warp it into a cruel bastardization of what it once was...

but I'm not letting you take the lives of those who had a shred of humanity left in them who exist to right your wrongs..

I'm going to enjoy getting one last laugh again after all these years..

I'm sorry Anika... you lacked a heart.. you don't deserve a second chance. you're well past the Rubicon of redemption..

Its about time you face the music...

-Handler Leones "the sentimental wretch" that played your empire like a fiddle..

p.s tell your superiors to ...how did 451 word it? ah

gargle my balls...

[winter-196]

[Incoming Encrypted Comms]

[Dear Handler Leones]

[While I understand your discontent for my methods, after all you are a mutt obsessed deviant. Perhaps look instead at the results I've brought, within one year of my position. I've already exposed multiple traitorous rings. You see Leones, you never were about the bigger picture. You just want to save the wretches that don't deserve it, the ones that fail time and time again.]

[While I can't deny, you up cycling unwanted Assets and watching them perform. It is very impressive, the improvements are all blatantly there. However, that is why I must take back your toys.]

[Sincerely, Handler Anika. Head of the 1st Imperial Kennel Corps.]

[P.S. Unlike you, I didn't stagnate. And unfortunately for you, I'm out of your league in all regards.]

[thehangarqueen]

[Incoming encrypted comm]

Piss up a rope & suck my nuts!

Baskerville

Oh wow, your dick must be massive, don't trip on it and fall down the stairs, your demise would be sooooo deeeeeeeply mourned.

Handler Faust

I lack the words to describe the fate I hope awaits you.

Handler Fist

Kiss my ass, you're not getting your claws into my girl!

Mandragora

I will bury you. Deep.

Mother Hen

KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL-

Cassowary

I think we can both agree on this one, when you arrive, we're gonna enjoy what comes next.

Lock&Jaw

Fuck you Anika, remember me? Or perhaps you've forgotten Handler Lament? You've made an error, and I look forward to seeing what my soldiers have planned for you. - Director Adamant

[winter-196]

[Great, the lot of you are here. Good, that saves me from repetition. Let me make one thing abundantly clear, about your rag-tag crew of rejects and Failures. I don't care, you lot act like this is more than just routine. Like you actually stand a chance, it's almost inspiring. However, some of us don't cloud ourselves in delusion.]

[Handlers Lament and Leones, good day to you both. Oh and, feel free to dispatch the Vixen. It'll be convenient if the loose end would finally tie itself, although. Watching another failed mutt crumble again when I snuff your pet project, does sound enjoyable. Be seeing you all soon, though if you want advice. Lay down and die, it'll be less painful. Oh, and hello Fist. Didn't know you were alive. Interesting]

[Connection Severed.]

[hound-0451]

awwwww i think we struck a nerve.. "Deviant" wow so you do know other words. impressive. -Handler Leones

man who shit in her rations? -0451

[winter-196]

[Dunno, but we've been dying over here....think we reopened something...fucking worth it ... .. who shit in her rations.... hehehehe]

[hound-0451]

I think it's your turn to get the last well deserved laugh? do keep the gal company. and you take it easy as well.-Handler Leones

[winter-196]

[Not going to lie ma'am, feels wrong in all the right ways. But we don't care, it feels damn good to have that last haha.. And yes ma'am, where she goes we go.... Been nice to have something that isn't a muzzle as a mask by the way...but unfortunately....is it wrong to say we... Enjoyed the silhouette..and the way the leather felt? Not to say we want it back ...but .. looking more into why we hate our face.. Fuck we're getting Waaayyy to introspective, apologies. We'll be with Mandragora for the day, if you need us for questioning or anything. We'll be here.]

[hound-0451]

it's not wrong. I faked my death 25yrs ago. and here I sit with a ragtag group of unlikely allies. takes time to get used to things. enjoy your time with her. you two both earned it. also you can keep the gloves. I only wore those during colder months-Handler Leones

[winter-196]

[.....But we don't like full finger gloves....fingerless does a good enough job obscuring the flesh mits... They should fit..hmmm .. we'll get back to you on that...and.. Are you sure? I- n. Not that we'd ever assume you Weren't just, we are still up and able to help with anything needed:D]

[hound-0451]

If that's the case. Make them yours. Cut the fingers off of them. Its a good first step to your new life. Vandalize old imperial issued uniform parts.. and make them "yours".

-Handler Leones.

[rescuehound]

Mmmmmm..... With permission from the assembled handlers of Taskforce Broadsword? I'm gonna tear that Imp's fucking face off.

Gonna give her hounds a better place to live. Time to let HATI off the leash.

[rescuehound]

Happily, happily, happily goneward, into the valley of death rode the six hundred....

[thehangarqueen]

Leave Anika alive preferably if you are the one to find her.

196 shall be her executioner. Same goes for an Ursa name Tasha if we encounter her.

Mandragora

[rescuehound]

Understood, ma'am. Immobilize em and leave em for the hounds if we find em. I'll just... Unlock the kennels and watch what happens next