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I was playing tug-o-war against Bandit with a piece of rebar when she walked in, making me release my end of the twisted metal fast enough to make the overgrown pup recoil backwards into the wall with a thump. We came forward slowly, completing the usual ritual of licking and petting, before she got on with things.

"Sorry for the short notice boys, but you're being deployed, imminently."

That got our attention, if it was possible Packmaster didn't have it all already.

"Allied forces are staging an assault on a nearby city, marines are providing support. However the tide of battle has turned a little sour and the enemy has brought in rienforcements, it's a bloody stalemate right now. The base is mobilizing and you're going to be going along with them, get to the tech bay on the double, heavy combat load. Go!" She snapped, and we barreled out through the door like six cannonballs.

The base was like someone had kicked an anthill, a flurry of commotion everywhere, the noise of engines as armored soldiers formed up and loaded into armored vehicles. We'd be the tip of the spear and likely arrive first via chopper.

The tech bay was much more busy than when I'd gotten my upgrades, our full support staff was there, going over the weapon loadouts we'd be fitted with, the whole pack getting into the painted rectangles on the ground with their numbers. I was number 4, randomly chosen. When we were in position, the techs started working on the weapons loadouts of each of us, using the block and tackle over each space to hoist up the equipment when needed.

The ability to rapidly shift between bipedal and quadruped movement was helpful in many situations, especially when speed and flexibility was needed, such as fast, brief encounters against light resistance. However the Wardog armor's quadruped frame and great strength allowed it to carry a significant amount of heavy armament, though it often sacrificed the ability to effectively stand up. Still, a slight loss in speed and flexibility was little price to pay for the speed, accuracy and firepower they could bring.

I looked up to the techies working on me, bringing down the familiar weight of an FN MAG over my right shoulder. The weapon mounting was fairly simple, any weapon with a trigger could be mounted there easily enough, but the addition of the targeting addons our weapons had made them considerably more efficient.

As a large ammo can was mounted on my lower back, I looked up to Titan next to me, who was being fitted with even heavier ordinance, an M2 Browning on his right side, feeding from a huge can over his back legs. His left side carried an 8-pack smart missile launcher and, almost conically, a tiny looking SMG fed from a helical mag for last ditch close quarters.

Duke, on my other side, was taking an FN Minimi and a combat shotgun. My own loadout was complete with an automatic grenade launcher. After the weapons and ammo came TROPHY modules and extra sensors, burying our sleek canine bodies under a layer of heavy ordinance and equipment. Weapon drivers booted up, overlaying targeting optics on my AR vision, one of the techs holding up a light stick.

"Track." He ordered, and I looked at the light, the weapons on my back following my gaze. "Good, good." He said, moving the light around, my weapons following. "Multi." He held out another light. I quickly set the launcher to auto-follow that target and focused on the other, my weapons splitting to target independently. "Okay, checks green. You're all good, Packmaster is on the chopper."

Burdened with our heavy weapons and gear, the ground thudded and felt to tremble as we rushed out, Buck taking point and clearing a path with his loud barking as we beat feet across the compound and into the waiting Chinook, Packmaster waiting. She thumped the door and the pilot took off as the ramp closed. Time for war.

We lay around Packmaster's feet for the briefing, her going over the details on a padm linking into our onboard systems to relay the data to our AR displays, pulling up a tactical map of the city in question with friendly units and known enemy positions.

The marine units were shown with clear blue symbols, each of them carrying various tracking beacons and datalinks that allows for total tactical awareness. Local friendly units were much more vague, with only green markers for radio operators and general squad locations, lacking our advanced datalink systems and other various integrated warfare toys.

"Sorry for the short notice deployment boys but this situation has developed rapidly. Our local allies have lost a nearby battle and their failure has allowed enemy fighters to pour into the city, rienforcing hostile units and outflanking the marines and allied forces. We're going in to counter the counterattack, and you're on point. Get in and cause havoc, eliminate high value targets and soften them up for the main force rolling in. I've also just been informed that the marines have one of their own Wardog packs deployed as well."

That got our interest. Wardog technology was a somewhat touchy issue with the various branches. Everyone wanted their own, and everyone wanted control of them. From AirForce pararescue to Marine raiders to Navy Seals, everyone wanted their own. Wardogs were originally our own branch of the military, small in numbers, high in funding, developing this new technology and working in tandem with the other branches. We were one such unit, officially part of our own indipendent branch but seconded long term to the Army.

However as the tech became more accepted and cheaper to produce, the various branches each started buying their own suits and conducting their own training, making their own Wardog units which they completely controlled. It was an understandable desire, even though we were currently under Army command, the higher ups of the Wardog branch could yank us at any moment, and nobody wanted to lose an asset like that. Still, it felt wrong in some way, like we weren't going to help our fellows, but rivals, newcomers who thought they could do it better.

I'd never met a Marine Corps Wardog before. What would they be like? Would they look like us, act like us? Was their conditioning and training like ours, or were they just humies in suits? Packmaster brought my attention back to her as she continued her briefing.

"Thus far it's a stalemate, but the enemy is bringing in rienforcements and supplies while the marine logistics are cut off. They're tired, unable to ressuply and cannot evacuate their wounded, we need to break this before it becomes a fully fledged siege. Do what you do best, I'll be monitoring the situation and relaying orders as needed via satlink."

We all confirmed our datalinks were working properly once again, before the chopper started to change orienttion, the pilot buzzing over internal com. "The marines are seeing shoulder launched AA units in the city, this is as close as I get."

Packmaster nodded as the ramp lowered. "Close enough. Sic 'em boys!"

We barked and howled, thundering down the ramp and out onto the ground, half a dozen walking tanks, sensors, weapons and defense systems spooling up.

We could hear the gunfire from here, the city laid out before us. Buildings of weathered stone, old brick and cinderblocks, so choked with sand and dust that it was almost the same color as the inhospitable scrubland it rose out of. It wasn't really any place special, just another poor city the site of the latest tragedy in what seemed war without end, only noteworthy for its size and strategically useful location.

Tac maps of the city streets flashed through our minds as we moved up, AR overlays identifying viable approach options and possible lanes of return fire. The armor's computers communicated through the neural jack at the speed of thought, in full combat mode it was hard to distinguish where the thoughts of the pilot ended, and the tactical computers began.

We formed a running front, each abreast of the other, maximizing the coverage of our TROPHY systems, remembering the warnings about RPGs in the city. Sharp cracks sounded to our sides and above us as we closed.

<They see us, taking fire.> Duke reported, the buildings growing closer with each long, powerful stride. <Watch for incoming- RPG!> He yelped.

The fat warhead raced through the air, radar tracking it and the computer projecting its course. With a crash-bang, Buck's TROPHY intercepted it with a buckshot-like blast, detonating the rocket into harmless shrapnel. More were fired, our smart systems ignoring the ones that would spiral harmlessly into the distance or impact into the ground, the ones that got too close being intercepted.

<We need to silence those rocket teams, the Army group is coming right up the road behind us.> Duke growled, myself watching the range indicator scrolling down on my HUD. Titan opened up with his big .50 cal, stabalized firing platform sending rounds downrange to chew bits of masonry out of the buildings ahead of us, sending distant figures ducking for cover, before he chewed through that as well. When I was in range I opened up with my own machinegun, ammo ticker scrawling down as I fired suppressing bursts.

Then we were at the buildings, and I leaped through a window, glass shattering and quickly assessing the situation. Sensors of all descriptions, from SONAR to LIDAR mapped the room around me and I quickly found the stairs, dashing up towards the position on the roof. A rifle barrel poked through the doorway, confuses shouting from the roof position, someone coming to try to stop me. I would have laughed if my mouth wasn't busy, biting the rifle and tugging it away.

The fighter shouted something profane as I spat the rifle aside and leaped, paws hitting his chest and knocking him backwards. My full weight landed on him, driving his shattered ribs through his body, crushing him beneath my paws as I hosed down the RPG team with machinegun fire.

<Roof clear!> I howled to the pack.

The others reported similar successes, Titan ripping a rocketeer apart on the next roof over as I jumped down to the ground with a heavy thud. Gunfire up the street, I barked for the pack's attention, tactical computer feeding me data. <Marine fireteam in a firefight with hostile fighters.>

<You take them out, I'll help the wounded.> Buck barked, the others agreeing and rushing to follow up with us. No howling now, it was time to be serious. This was my idea, so I keyed my radio into the Marine unit's frequencey.

[Fireteam Charlie be advised, you have a pack of Wardogs coming in to your south, watch your fire.]

[Wardogs?] Came the surprised reply. [Solid copy, enemy has snipers in the tall building to the east of our position.]

Bandit yipped. <Counter sniper, right!> He readied his long rifle and checked his vantage points, heading out to take some of the pressure off.

We soon reached the Marine's positions, Buck diving through a window to be in amongst them, his Minimi laying down a steady barrage. Titan took position near the Marine's building, M2 thumping out a steady pace of shells as he layed down his usual cover-eating suppressive fire.

I quickly assessed the situation, noting muzzle flashes and building geometry. Jackal launched a quad rotor UAV to hover overhead, marking targets with a dispassionate eye. Duke came to my side, also armed with an FN MAG and a rack of smart grenades, as well as a two-shot missile pack on each rear hip.

<Come on, sweep and clear.> He growled, to which I nodded and moved alongside him. I grimaced as a rifle round glanced off my armor, weaving through abandoned cars for cover as the enemy tried to zero in on me, metal pinging in all directions.

<Give me a door here Fenris!> Duke yelped, and I put 3 40mm grenades into the wall, blasting a hole which Duke jumped at, ripping open enough to climb inside. I jumped in with him, teeth barred and growling.

I followed my nose through the building, the bulk of my body taking up almost the entire hall. We both went upstairs, stopping off at different floors as we prowled for prey. I emerged behind a fighter with a scoped rifle, who just had time to turn his head before I was on him. My teeth entered his throat and I ripped it out, hot blood on my tongue, the euphoric rush of the kill pulsing through me. More, I wanted more.

Footsteps in the hallway, sensitive ears tracking their movement, estimating a position. I fired a long sweeping burst through the wall before emerging into the corridor, finishing them off with flashes of fangs and claws. Screams downstairs let me know that Duke was having similar success. I bushwacked a machinegun team that was trying to relocate, gunning one down before tearing the leg off the other and snapping his neck in my jaws.

Blood tasted good, don't get me wrong, but the rush of combat, the little endorphin surge of each kill. The building was going quiet around me, so this fight was ending, and the others would expect me back. But how could I resist, right? I lowered my head, taking a big chunk out of the leg I'd removed, gnashing it up before swallowing. It would be efficiently rendered down into nutrients to be fed intraveneously to my organic parts, topping off my gas tank, if you will. Who knows how long this fight might last, smart to eat when you can. I smelled no more living prey in this building, so I left, trotting out to rejoin my pack.

Pleased with my performance, I let out a low, molten growl as I walked over, licking my chops, muzzle stained with blood as I got close, entering the Marine position. <How we doing?>

Buck was looking over the situation, giving a satisfied snort. <Pretty good here, they'll be fine. You look like you had fun.>

I grinned, snickering.

"Holy shit, did you actually bite someone?"

I turned, seeing a somewhat surprised looking Marine who'd just noticed the blood. I nodded. "Armed to the teeth." I chirped.

"Fuckin' A." He said, sounding morbidly impressed.

"Don't you have your own Wardog pack in the city?" I asked, he didn't seem used to this by now.

"Yeah, new addition, not usualy with us, seem to get the job done though."

Titan let out a low growl from outside. <Enemy armor sighted by Marine forces, they are requesting support. Rotor wings won't be able to get close with the dug in AA units.>

<That's our job then!> Bandit yipped, jumping down from the roof with a heavy thud and a blast of dust.

"Gotta go." I said back to the Marine, jumping through the window. "Your pack needs mine." I ignored his response, moving down the street with the pack, scanning for threats as we went.

<You've got a bit of insurgent in your teeth.> Buck pointed out as we left.

<Oh, thanks.>

Packmaster fed us the data she was getting from high up UAVs, trusting our decision to engage the armor. It looked like a mechanized infantry unit supported by tanks, old ones too. Still, best not to let them get close.

We cut through the Marine's control zone, movins fast through the secured area of the city towards the sounds of gunfire, soon moving up into our side's fighting positions. Some buildings were heavily damaged, reduced to rubble by the prolonged combat, the distant crawling shapes of tanks kicking up dust.

<Looks like local intelligence dropped the ball.> Titan growled. <They assured us no tanks in the area.>

<Good thing we always assume local intelligence is wrong.> I said, looking at the others. I felt a bit useless, watching for closer infantry as the others did their thing. Jackal launched his UAV again to give targeting data, Bandit scanned for targets, Titan and Duke had missile launchers. I felt a bit left out.

Buck bumped me. <Come on, let's go watch the perimeter, maybe we'll get lucky?>

I barked, getting ready to head down as Titan launched his first of eight missiles. It thumped as it was punted up out of the launcher, before the engine ignited and sent it screaming off downrange towards an enemy vehicle, before it slammed down through the top armor, blowing the turret out the top like a cork from a wine bottle.

As more missiles were fired off above us, Buck and I roamed the streets, sniffing for fresh prey. Even with the power and accuracy of our missiles, Titan and Duke only had twelve shots between them, enough to blunt the armored push, but they couldn't stop it.Footsteps, scent of sweaty human bodies on the shifting wind, we looked at each other and nodded, switching to track the new contacts. Our opponents were poorly equipped, primitive technology and old weapons. In some ways it gave them advantages, no radios to listen in on, and their old gear was reliable, manufactured decades ago and still bearing the marks proudly declaring their production in the glorious Soviet Union. They were no less deadly for having outlived their creators.

But the disorganization was showing, little cohesion between groups, leaving each squad and platoon a mostly isolated fighting unit, given an overall plan of action when the battle began and set loose. Well, no plan survived first contact with the enemy. Here was one such unit, probably given the vague order of 'move towards the Marines and shoot' and that was all they had going for them. Poor bastards.

Three were dead before they knew we were behind them, flanking from each side of the street. I held back a bit, side-strafing as I laid in with my heavier machinegun, Buck moving closer in, Minimi and combat shotgun tracking targets individually. Rifle rounds spat out and pinged off walls and the ground, one clipping my armor again. Speed and shock were our greatest weapons, no matter how we were armed, though our guns were well stabilized and supremely accurate. The new targeting upgrades were working great, letting me suppress one group while I dropped 40mm onto another, tearing them to shreds before switching targets.

It was a frenzied bloodbath, tearing targets apart with gunfire, explosives and gleaming fangs, in a minute at most there was nothing left alive in the street. Still hot with the energy of the fight, Buck and I sunk our fangs into one of the kills, tearing it apart between us.More footsteps, we looked to the source of the noise, growling and prowling low, stopping when we saw a Marine coming around the corner. "Hey! We have a situation that... oh god." He said, looking at the ripped apart body, blood covering our faces, Buck still swallowing some of his meat. The marine retched, managing to not vomit but looking quite under the weather. I let out a whine, cocking my head. I wasn't going to hurt him, why was he scared? I whined louder, dropping my eares sadly. I wasn't supposed to make our people feel bad, I was supposed to make them feel good! I was here to help them, right? He looked at me, seeming to recover himself a little and I happily yapped, panting a little in what I hoped would be an endearing way.

"There ah... there's something we need your help with." He said, not looking directly at me. "Our own Wardogs are in a bad spot, they're being boxed in and are taking heavy fire. I think they're too stubborn to call for help but they're getting surrounded at the end of our lines. They might end up completely encircled."

That was bad. Wardogs were shock units, we did best moving fast in close. The half second of stunned terror when we were seen in close quarters was our greatest advantage. If we let ourselves get pinned down, lost our mobility advantage and let our weapons be expended, then we could be killed, ground down until we were unable to fight.

"Thank you." I said, though that seemed to unnerve him again. "We'll save your hounds."

I howled for the others. <The marine Wardogs are in trouble, we need to go help them.>

Titan howled back. <We've done all we can here anyway, let's go.>

The others joined up with us soon and we went on our way, Bandit looking at the still a little shocked marine as we passed. <What's his problem?>

<I don't think he liked seeing us eat.> I shrugged.

<To be fair.> Duke pointed out. <Your table manners would make anyone vomit.>

We all had a good chuckle at that as we went off to help our marine cousins.

As we closed on the other pack's location, Packmaster filled us in on their situation. Enemy forces had surrounded them and one of their Wardogs had been injured. Unwilling to leave their packmate, they had bunkered down and were now pinned down, becoming more isolated as the lines of battle shifted. We figured that between two packs of Wardogs we should be able to deal with most anything... if these Wardogs were our equals at any rate. I'd never encountered another branche's own hounds before, would they measure up to us or be pale, budget trimmed imitations?

We moved through the marine lines and when we got close enough, began hailing them with howling cries. It took a few tries before we got a howl back, a quick, hurried call, but we were able to establish contact.

<Friendly Wardog pack moving up from your south, we are here to help.> Buck called.

<When did you get here!> Came the quick, harsh demand.

<Recently. A full relief force is riding hard behind us, we're the speartip.>

There was a pause before the answer. <Okay, get your asses over here!>

And so we did, pounding the pavement until we saw the other Wardog's fighting position. A lone, half demolished building, sitting in a square, taking fire from all sides. The rubble strewn landscape around the building was choked with bodies and burned out vehicles, the Wardogs had taken a bloody toll on their attackers. But while the enemy didn't seem keen on actually advancing, they seemed content in their ability to sit in relative safety and pour bullets and rockets into the abused building until they reduced it to rubble.

Duke growled, assessing the situation, the pack pausing for a moment on the edge of the battle zone, Jackal launching his UAV again. <Jackal, Titan, with me, we're going to sweep around and start clearing these buildings. Fenris, Bandit, Buck, go help our cousins hold out.>

We barked our agreement, the pack splitting. There was no defense now but speed and surprise as the three of us made a bee-line for the nearest opening on the bullet scarred building. It took a few moments for the enemy to see us, then they started shifting their fire towards our advancing dust cloud. Bandit popped smoke, thick brown clouds obscuring our approach, rounds and rockets slamming unaimed into the ground around us before we blew out of the cloud and soon into the building, barking for the marines.

Up above us, they barked back and even without it, we could have followed the sound of the gunfire, heading up towards them, yapping to make sure no twitchy weapons fired at us as we came in. Then we got our first good look at our Marine counterparts.

The first thing we noticed was the colors. We were mostly colored in varying shades of grey, with some browns and tans thrown in. These Wardogs were all colored in the digital camoflage which was used in marine uniforms. Our color patterns often mimiced real canine patterns, while here the blocks of camoflage colors were sometimes arranged to form obvious symbols or words, like tattoos almost. Their armor was more angular while ours was sleek and rounded, though their armaments were similar overall. Judging by the body count littering the ground around their holdout position, they seemed to be pretty good at what they did.

<So nice of you to join us!> Barked a big male, leaning up to a window to let off a long burst with an LMG.

<Sorry, traffic.> I said, moving over to take position at a large hole blown in the wall, peeking out to open fire and then ducking back in.

One of the Wardogs had been dragged further into the building, having taken an RPG to the side, Buck going to see to him. Bandit went upstairs to start sniping, prioritizing RPG users being fed to him by Jackal's UAV, leaving me alone down with the marines.

<Just warning you!> Said the one by the window. <If you so much as make one pun about 'devil dogs' I will fucking eat you!>

<The thought never crossed my mind!> I barked back, lying.

I focused inward for a moment, standing behind cover, letting my AR system throw up an image of the surrounding area from the hovering quad rotor above us. The others of my pack were moving through buildings, but the enemy was on alert and dug in, it wasn't going quickly. They were advancing slowly, clearing buildings one floor, one room at a time, as the battle moved all around them, above and below. It was slow, bloody work.

I was pulled out of my focus as I felt something behind me, letting out a surprised little yip and looking over. The Wardog I'd just spoken to had his nose under my tail, sniffing. Well, there goes the worries that they weren't like us under their different colors and armor. <Slow moment, thought I'd say hi.> The other hound said, and I nodded, waiting for him to stop before returning the favor. You can tell a lot about a Wardog by scent, and... there was something that felt right about it that I could never put my paw on.

<Having a nice little get together Rex?> Asked another Marine dog, trotting past us, making me pull up.

<Just being polite is all.> The canine snarked back, going to take his position again. I walked over, curious about the sleeker newcomer, putting my nose down to sniff.

Female, obviously, can't exactly miss that when you're looking right at her hindquarters, smell or not. I found my eyes drawn away from that feature to the Marine Corps emblem, made out of digital camo blocks on her right ass cheek like a brand. She looked over her shoulder, pushing me away with a rear paw. <One, we're in a combat zone. Two, my ass is off limits.> 'Rex' whined needily behind me before going back to shooting, switching positions to avoid being pinned down.

I growled lightly, the push was just rude. But I took up positions across from her, popping out grenades and machinegun fire. It was chaotic, hellish fighting. Walls and cover were being blown out by rockets, ducking down as a long burst stiched craters across the walls. Any doubts I had about my counterparts abilities were banished as, despite their hit or miss acceptance of standard canine conduct, they showed the competence and bravery I'd expect from any Wardog.

I barked out targets and answered their calls as well, heavy footfalls above or below showing the others moving. Bandit was doing a good job picking off targets, and Buck thought their injured dog would pull through, though it was touch and go right now.

We dodged and moved, falling back from one room to another, keeping out of their lines of fire and shooting back as well as we could. There was little we could do though beyond keeping them suppressed, after my grenades ran out at least. Before then I got to blow up a couple positions so that was good. The rest of the pack was clearing houses and making progress, we just had to hold out.

The female Wardog whose name I did not know and ass I was not allowed to touch was near me, letting off long bursts from her MG, the AA missiles on her back not very useful right now. <You're not what I was expecting.> She barked in a brief moment of pause.

<What were you expecting?> I whined back.

<Thought you dogs from the original branch were all just test cases, testing out shiny toys and not getting your paws dirty. The blood on your face kinda shows otherwise.>

I grinned, licking my lips. <Wasn't sure what to expect with you either, thought you might be Wardogs in name only, just random marines stuck in cut rate suits. The ass sniffing shows otherwise, you get it.>

She chuckled, peeking out a long broken window. <Yeah, our training must be different somehow, but we were taught to be dogs just like you I guess. didn't mean to be rude before, just learned I had to keep the other boys from sniffing my ass because they kept getting too friendly. Let someone stick his snout under your tail and he starts thinking you have a special relationship.>

I laughed, about to agree when my RADAR pinged incoming. <RPG!> I barked, dancing back in just enough time to see my TROPHY intercept it, blowing up right outside the window. The female was down under the window, safe from the shrapnel, but the blast took the last bit of fight out of the old masonry, which started to crumble.

<Shit!> She whined, trying to escape, but she wasn't fast enough, and my paws couldn't reach her before the floor gave way, taking her down with it, landing in a pile of rubble.

<Dog down, north side!> I barked, looking down at her while my auto targeter laid on a long burst. She had been briefly stunned by the fall, getting up and covered in rubble. One rear leg was stuck under a large chunk of concrete. <She's pinned! I'm going down!> I barked over the others protests, jumping down to land beside her, teeth barred.

I opened fire with the machinegun, 7.62 NATO rounds screaming downrange in one long burst. The barrel could melt for all I cared but I needed all the suppressive fire I could get. The others opened fire above me, a great torrent of gunfire tearing into the enemy position. <Can you get up!> I barked, sparing her a glance.

She had shaken herself, the worst of the impact had been soaked up by her impact gel, but her leg looked in a bad way. <One of the joints is fucked up.> She whimpered, trying to push on the rock with her other back leg, her canine body not letting her put much leverage on it with her front paws.

<Shit, hold on I'll get you out.> I barked, setting my gun to automatically fire back at enemy muzzle flashes. I put my front paws on the stone, digging my rear paws in and pushing, synthetic muscle straining. We both whined and pushed, putting as much of our strength as we could combine in it, black synth flesh flexing and contorting as the rubble shifted. A rifle round thumped into my side, but I didn't waver, TROPHY system sounding a warning as it started to deplete its ammunition, when finally the rubble shifted enough that she could pull her mangled leg out before it fell back down.

<Let's go!> I barked, covering us both as we rushed back inside, her limping on the damaged limb. We both panted when we got inside, and I took a moment to inspect her leg. The joint within the muscle had been dislocated and possibly broken, slowing her mobility greatly, but it wouldn't be much trouble to fix in the shop. Her organics were fine, I didn't smell any blood.

<You took a hit.> She said, noting the wound in my side.

<Didn't penetrate far, quick fix.> I said, diagnostics showing it to not be too dangerous. <My ammo's basically spent though.> Lots of red warning lights on my AR display, and my TROPHY was basically dry.

<Check your battlenet.> She panted, checking the leg by putting some weight on it.> That army group you were leading is sweeping through the city, fight won't be going on much longer, it looks like a rout.>

I checked the tactical situation, she was right. Reinforcements were sweeping the city and sandwiching the enemy between them, crushing enemy resistance between them. The gunfire around us quieted, the forces surrounding this building starting to retreat, choosing between getting shot by humies or gnawed on by Wardogs didn't seem like much of a choice to them.

<Lexi.> She said, looking over to me. <Name's Lexi.>

<Fenris.> I responded, opting for a polite nod rather than violate her space if she had issues about that.

She limped up to the room where Buck was caring for her injured packmate, the big dog snoring softly under heavy medication. The wound was ugly, blowing a hole in his synth flesh and hitting the organics underneath, but Buck had treated it with his usual skill. The medic dog so to both our minor hurts, patching it up though it would fall to the dedicated specialists to fix things permanently.

That done, we went through the building, keeping away from the windows to avoid catching a stray round. The rest of the pack loped back in, reporting the area was reasonably secure. We'd done a lot of damage and opened up the approach for our humie backup, but we were spent. Ammo depleted, TROPHY running low, taking light damage. Shock and awe instilled it was best to avoid getting chewed up by what combat was left, not that it looked like this fight would be lasting long now that we outnumbered the enemy and had them outflanked.

I kept close to Lexi, some protective instinct wanting me to stay at her side as she kept walking, even on the injured leg, ascending to a higher level to look out over the city through a large hole in the wall, smoke rising and distant flashes and gunfire still showing the battles raging.

<Got here just in time. Not often someone saves our bacon, usually the other way around.> She admitted.

<You're not my pack, but we had to help, Wardogs look out for their own.> I shrugged.

<Yeah, I guess we do.> She nodded, seeming finally tired of walking now that we'd gotten to the other end of the building. <So what's it like in your branch?>

I considered it, before shrugging. <We just do what packmaster tells us, and get rewarded when we do well and make her happy. I don't worry about anything beyond that. What's it like where you come from?>

She looked curious. <Packmaster? Guess that's just a different name. But it's basically the same, we get our own little barracks and do what Sir tells us to when it's time to go on a mission. Lots of busy work because every officer from a Lieutenant to General wants us helping them, and they want it now.>

I nodded. <Know how that feels, though since we're an independent outfit we keep getting requests from all kinds of people, I'm glad Packmaster lets us rest and not throwing us into every single firefight in the whole war.>

<Yeah, fun as combat is, sometimes I just need to lay down in a sunny patch and sleep. Besides we're too valuable to run ragged. Even if it is a good way to get fresh meat.> She said, looking at my bloodstains. She walked over, starting to lick drying blood off my armor.

I let out a little breath, enjoying the companionship. <You don't owe me anything.> I warned softly, and she nodded, continuing.

<No, I don't.> She said, continuing before she walked away, looking away from me out over the city.

<So how long until you go... back...> I trailed off, sniffing as a new scent crossed by nose. I looked over to her, seeing her looking back over her shoulder at me, letting me get closer to sniff near her tail. I gave her a questioning look, and she nodded slowly. Needing no further encouragement, I swiftly mounted her as we looked out over the ruined city.

+++ Sexual content begins +++

My shaft was made of the same black synth flesh as the rest of my softer parts, with a fully canine design. The full reasoning behind equipping Wardog chassis with sex organs was long and involved much arguing and embarrassing committee meetings and wasn't on my mind at the moment. The nice thing about the synth flesh was that it obeyed commands as well as instincts, so there was no waiting for me to get hard and ready before the mating could begin.

Her back weapons were quickly shed, me putting them aside carefully after she disengaged the catches, before I mounted over her fully, laying my weight on her back, though careful not to put weight on her injured leg. Her tail tucked to the side for me, which was welcome because sticking it in could be hard enough without hands back there to guide it.

I thrust, eager tip glancing off the firm muscle of her rear, and I whimpered in frustration as I thrust repeatedly, before catching on something that gave way when I pushed. I waited for a moment, making sure I'd hit my target before thrusting forward into her. She let out a little yip but bit down on it, making me snicker as I pushed into her.

It had been a long time since I'd mounted a bitch, it felt different than the males to be sure. Not better, not worse, different. Looser, but wetter and in a different shape that was certainly pleasant, inner muscles pulling at me in different, unfamiliar ways. I moaned loudly as I thrust again, my deflated knot touching her lips.

<Keep it down.> She panted. <Don't let the others hear.>

I nodded, biting my tongue as I thrust, working up a good pace. My muzzle touched the back of her head and I gave her a few fond licks, which she seemed to like, nuzzling her fondly as I humped. With time and privacy we could have gotten truly inventive, but in the current situation there was little for it but a simple mount and hump, the appropriate doggystyle.

Try as we might to stay quiet, we both let out little pants and whines I hoped were too quiet to be noticed, humping away with no care for making this last or slowly building up to the finish. Short, passionate, and a hell of a lot of fun. Our breathing got heavier and heavier as we went, and she let out a stifled yelp as I hilted fully within her, before drawing out to the tip and thrusting again, feeling her nearing the ending.

Finally I let out a choked, huffing bark and slammed in to the hilt, knot popping within her, inflating to tie us together as I started pumping thick, synthetic seed into her false womb, filling her with liquid warmth. The inflated knot hit her in all the right places, wringing a quiet orgasm out of her, black flesh trembling and squeezing all around me as I pumped her full to the brim.

We both panted, me licking her ears again, before knowing I should take the weight off of her with her injured leg, climbing off of her and turning to press our rears together, knot rotating inside her. I looked back over towards her, Lexi turning and bending a little to look back at me.

<I didn't do that because you saved me.> She said first.

I nodded. <I hoped not, I would have done it anyway.>

She nodded back. <It's just... I wanted something like this for a while, but I didn't want to do it with the others.>

I whined. <Is your pack not...>

She cut me off. <They're good dogs, watch my back and I theirs. Just... I'm the only bitch, they might get it with each other but if one of them took me they might think they have something special. I don't like the idea of being claimed... or of them fighting over me.>

I nodded softly. <Instincts can be hard to deal with. It'll work out though, pack always does in the end. Maybe lay out some clear rules before anything happens?>

<Maybe.> She said quietly, looking out over the city. <Thank you, I needed this.>

<So did I, it was... very nice. Maybe we'll run into each other again?>

<I hope so.> She nodded, looking back to our pressed together hips. <You about done back there?>

I nodded, gritting my teeth. <Yeah, sec.> I tugged, working gently, shifting my hips back and forth, before with a pop and a gasp my knot popped free, cum pouring out of her body and pooling on the floor. Being a gentleman, I walked over and licked her clean, a favor she returned after I lifted my leg.

Presentable once again, and having fabricated a story about scanning for possible stragglers, we returned to our packs, leaving the cum puddle to dry and stain the floor. I always wonder who ended up stumbling across it.

+++ Sexual content ends +++