The Raging Hounds VIII: Unveiled Warrior
#8 of The Raging Hounds
Long in the making, but finally here. Enjoy!
Whilst Vincent was in the infirmary and the GFS Triumphant traveled towards their next destination in some remote part of Federate space, the rest of the Hounds spent their leisure time mostly training or just relaxing. Schaefer saw no reason to try and drill his Pack day in and day out, mainly because the boys would just come up with whatever excuses to skip the drills and because Schaefer knew, from past experience, that the Hounds didn't slack around when it came to combat prowess. Despite the small size of their unit they were still usually sent to the toughest of places to perform recon, assassination and sabotage.
This was all because the Hounds had a one hundred percent success rate on their missions... No matter the cost.
All this and a lot more Ghost had learned during the time he had spent in the unit. Was it of any importance or relevance to his assignment? No, most certainly not, but -and he was reluctant to admit it- training around the clock would not do him any good and he had to spend his free time somehow.
In the near total darkness of his chamber -a fairly small private room far away from the rest of the denizens of the ship- Ghost was kneeling in front of a small shrine dedicated to the patron deity of war and combat; Auron. The shrine itself was fairly simple and Spartan, much like the rest of the room, with only a single crimson candle in a brass brazier seated on a small table covered with a red satin cloth with a lightning bolt surrounded by laurels embroidered in silvery thread on the center of it.
Just on the right side of the shrine -mounted on a rack- was Ghost's armor, the sighting- and targeting devices of the helmet serenely blank as the suit stood silent watch over the room.
To the left of the shrine was another rack, this one filled with row upon row of neatly placed weapons that suited the needs and tastes of the assassin Shade. Rows of knives in varying sizes, vibro swords, sub-machine guns, pistols, small shotguns, containers for lethal and exotic poisons and so on and so on.
The only other notable things in the room were the ascetic bunk, a small trunk -containing some meager clothing plus assorted other items- and a small three-legged chair upon which incense containing mild doses of relaxing narcotics were slowly burning, all in the name of helping the Shade operative meditate and clear his mind.
Standing up slowly Ghost picked up a sheathed training sword from within the small trunk at the end of what passed as his bed. He had meditated and cleared his mind, now it was time to train once more. He knew the marines were stuck in a briefing session with Schaefer -something concerning their next mission, no doubt- which meant the Shade could easily walk without having to wear his armor. The "flyboys" usually steered clear of the marines' part of the ship so that wouldn't be a problem either.
Sam, Rose, Frost, John and Rey walked noisily down one of the corridors, heading slowly but surely towards one of the two gyms on board the cruiser. They all wore matching training outfits consisting of loose black pants and a black T-shirt with the Hounds' insignia of snarling canine head and the text 12th Federate Marine Company labeled in yellow on the back.
"Guess we have the rest of the day to ourselves now, huh?" Rey chuckled.
John nodded "Yea. Who would've thought Schaeffer would call off the briefing just a mere minute before it was supposed to begin. Didn't he say something about postponing it due to fresh intelligence or something?"
"'Due to some new information I've just now received, the current briefing will be postponed indefinitely... So don't hold your breath, boys. Translated to a language you lovely mutts can actually understand, it means that at earliest we will be assembling tomorrow and Machala have mercy on the poor mangy bastard who disturbs me before that! I've got enough to deal with as it is.'" Rose recited in a mock imitation of Schaefer, matching the German Shepherd's speech almost perfectly word-to-word, his imitation causing raucous laughter to boom down the length of the empty corridor.
Upon reaching the gym's door, Frost bumped square against the door as it failed to open on it's own as it should have, causing the other to snicker, Frost giving each of them a stern glare which melted into a slight frown.
The collie pressed the panel on the side of the door which should've manually opened the accursed metal slab some smartass dared to call a door, but still nothing happened.
Frost sighed and turned to look at Rose "It's stuck again... You know what to do, Rose. Work your magic on the sonuva bitch."
Nodding curtly, his tail swishing idly from side to side in eagerness to get to tinker with something again, Rose knelt in front of the door's opening mechanism and, with the help of a claw and a pocket knife, pried the panel open, spending then a few seconds tampering with the wiring after which the door let out a loud click, a whirr and then slid open.
"Well done!" Sam commented, slapping Rose a couple of times onto the shoulder before stepping inside and freezing dead onto his tracks.
The others, after filing past Sam's petrified form, also acquired expressions of utter surprise as they saw that they weren't alone in the gym.
The occupant of the gym wasn't a Hound, that much was sure of the simple fact that he was a mouse with snowy-white fur and jet-black hair that draped a little on the left side of his head. Donned into a pair of black Hakama pants and a white, laced, sleeveless vest meant for martial arts practice, a crimson-red bandanna wrapped around his forehead. Lastly, held blade down, in the mouse's hand was a training sword.
Frost snorted "What the hell? Why is one of the flyboys in here? Damn navy wankers, no respect for us footsloggers at all!"
The mouse simply regarded the Hounds coldly, frozen mid-motion before straightening up and saying in a blank tone "That door was locked for a reason. apparently you 'footsloggers' have no respect for others' desire for privacy."
"That door tends to get stuck every once in a while so it being locked is nothing new to us, flyboy, but apparently you don't know it even if this is YOUR little tin can we are in. Now scram! You flyboys have your own gym in your part of the ship." Frost snarled and the others murmured in approval.
Only one silent amongst the small group of Hounds was John, who dug out a cig from his pocket and lit it, slowly inhaling the bitter smoke before blowing it out through his nose.
Still as blank as ever, the mouse raised an eyebrow. They thought he was one of the navy? Perhaps it might be for the best...
"I have every right to be in this gym just as much as you do and seeing how I came here first... I think it's you who should leave." the mouse said slowly.
Frost walked briskly in front of the arrogant mouse, snarling with barely contained temper, almost pressing his face against the mouse's.
"We've been patient enough with you, flyboy, now get the fuck out of our gym before you start losing either teeth or limbs." the collie growled.
As soon as Frost had uttered the threat, the impassive look on the mouse's face vanished, replaced by an expression of cold brutality and utter ruthlessness. Before Frost had a chance to react, the mouse backhanded him across the jaw, spinning the collie around, followed by an explosive kick to the lower back which sent Frost crashing head-first into the nearest wall.
The rest of the Hounds stared in awe for a second before letting out a snarl and attacking, although John still remained behind, idly smoking his cig.
Even though he was fighting alone against three, the mouse appeared to be more than a match for the Hounds, ducking, weaving and spinning out of the way of their blows or then parrying them expertly with his feet, arms and the sword.
As Sam tried to grapple the mouse from behind, the rodent suddenly coiled his tail -which proved to be more powerful than it's wiry look would suggest- around the dobie's ankle, yanking him off his feet and hurling him against Rey, the two of them stumbling into a weight-lifting bench which fell with a crash.
Rose managed to connect with a knee to the mouse's stomach, doubling him over, followed by a brutal elbow to the back. Instead of flinching or collapsing, however, the mouse planted a palm to the floor and rose into a one-handed hand plant, his body coiling up like a spring before he sent an explosive kick to the jaw of the stunned wolf, easily knocking him out.
As the mouse sprung to his feet, his sharp eyes regarding the surroundings for any more hostiles, John was almost done with his cig.
"What about you? I hope for your own good that you are smarter than your pals... Lest I have to destroy you all..." the mouse whispered.
John blew out a billow of smoke from his nose, looking idly at the glowing ember at the tip of his almost completely smoked cig "I know you. You're that so-called mercenary we met at Jarhead during the fight. You're neither a merc and you fight too well for a flyboy. I've got no idea who you are, and normally I wouldn't bother to fight, but..." John dropped the cig and ground it to the floor, his mouth curling into a snarl "...You hurt my buddies and that just won't do."
The mouse dropped into a low guard stance, looking very much like a tiger preparing to pounce onto prey.
John lunged and so did the mouse. Hall, however, despite his usually lazy demeanor, was one of the better unarmed fighters in the unit and it showed: he was able to match the mouse's movement and blows almost equally.
As he felt the mouse wrap his tail around his ankle, John willingly followed the trip attempt, allowing himself to be dragged down, but as it happened he grasped the front of the mouse's vest and planted his free foot onto the rodent's chest, using his momentum to toss the rodent over his head. with a backward roll, John ended up straddling the mouse's chest, starting to rain blows into his unprotected face until he was kicked to the back of his head which sent him reeling.
Quick as lightning, the mouse sprang up, kneed John to the ribs and chopped him to the neck, dropping the black wolf like an empty sack.
The mouse rolled John's unconscious form onto his back with the tip of his bare foot, regarding the wolf coldly for a moment before raising his foot up to smash the arrogant canine's throat.
The blow, however, never landed as something huge wrapped around the mouse's head and he was lifted off of his feet. Before the mouse could react, he was hurled like a missile into a large rack of dumbbells that collapsed onto him with a loud crash.
Snarling with rage, Dan stood guard by John, looking every bit as mad as he could. That mouse... He would've killed John if Dan hadn't arrived. A cold-blooded murderer like that deserved no mercy.
A dumbbell of considerable weight came flying through the air, slamming into Dan's jaw before he could dodge, the wolf's head snapping back from the force of the impact but that was about it.
The mouse looked just as equally pissed off as Dan did upon rising up from the remains of the wrecked dumbbell rack.
The two of them were ready to tear each other apart as a familiar voice from the doorway called "What the bloody hell is going on in here? Stand down, all of you, before I have to notify the Colonel!"
Fletcher strode into the room, having heard the ruckus all the way down the corridor.
Reluctantly, Dan eased off, digging out his inhalator and taking a deep breath from it, holding it inside and then exhaling slowly, feeling the red veil retreating little by little.
The mouse, however, looked as if someone had flicked a switch in his head, turning passive, calm and collected in the blink of an eye, the murderous gleam that had been in his eyes dying out as if someone had snuffed a candle out.
"You lot will be fixing the gym and I don't want to see -or hear about- any more disturbances. do I make myself clear?" Fletcher snarled, getting nods from the Hounds who were slowly collecting themselves from the floor. The mouse, however, simply snorted, gathered his gear and strode off.
"Who the hell was that?" Rey asked, nursing his aching ribs and supporting the dizzy Sam with his other arm.
Fletcher, made a mock grin "Isn't it obvious? You just ran afoul on our little pet Shade. I guess you've only seen him in armor -and Sam applies to me- but it should be pretty darn obvious. None of the flyboys is able to trash five Hounds and live to tell the tale and amongst the Hounds there are no mice. Who is left? The Shade Operative, of course."
"That...Sounds logical..." John muttered as he gingerly rose up from the floor, feeling every bit as if he had been ran over by a Triceratops-class heavy tank "He's also the mysterious 'mercenary' that helped us during the bar fight, I'm sure of it. That's why I didn't attack headlong, cuz I knew he would be pretty darn good."
"And here I was thinking you were just being lazy again." Sam commented with a grin, causing everyone to first burst into a laughter which was replaced by a choir of grunting and groaning as their bruises reminded the Hounds of their existence.
Back in the confined sanctity of his personal quarters, Ghost inspected the injuries he had received: bruises, a couple of bumps and that's about it, nothing more than superficial injuries which he could ignore.
The mouse allowed a flicker of a smile to pass over his face. His masters' interest towards the muscle-bound wolf hadn't been misplaced; the brute was truly an efficient fighter and a prime sample of the heights into which refined gene technology and engineering could reach.
Sitting onto the floor, Ghost drew out a small, compact monitor from within his footlocker, the screen flickering on and casting a pale illumination onto the white rodent's features.
As a bit of an exercise he had stalked around the ship in his armor, planting surveillance cameras here and there to keep himself occupied and to -as per the request of his masters- keep an eye on the Hounds.
For the most part the Hounds weren't doing anything that interested him. Mundane things like eating and sleeping were dull to observe, and even the training the Hounds did didn't provide any stimulation to the Shade's mind; their methods were simply far too crude and vastly inferior to his extensive training in Gun-Kata, Blade Kenshin and the hand-to-hand techniques based onto a complex combination of various martial arts which allowed him to adapt into most every situation.
All his skills were greatly protected secrets of the Shade order, known only by the few chosen disciples who had been deemed worthy of joining.
Still, there were some things about the marines that... intrigued the mouse. Rewinding the recording to the previous evening in the shower room, Ghost watched in silence at the raunchy and carnal joys in which the marines were indulging, the joy of sharing their bodies with each others evident on the face of each and every one of them.
This all fascinated the mouse, because never before had he seen anything remotely like that in his life. Introduced into the Shade order whilst still nothing more than an infant, Ghost had lived a life in which iron-hard discipline and training meant everything and in which there was no time nor place for such things as love, passion or lust.
So he sat there, watching, transfixed by the sight of the canines lusting about in the steamy shower room, how they seemed to have very little in the form of hierarchy when it came to who would bend over for who. Naturally he had spotted such individuals as Rose and Winters as those who liked to give themselves to others, whilst people like Jericho and Hall almost always took what was offered.
Ghost scrolled the recording forward into the moment when the last of the Hounds had left the room. Five minutes later a lone figure walked in, washed up swiftly and left. From what Ghost had gathered, that particular individual was the only one among the Hounds who held a preference solely towards the opposite gender (another intriguing thing to the emotionally suppressed and subdued mouse).
Again Ghost wound the recording forward, this time watching how the burly sergeant Dan walked in to have his shower.
The muscle-bound wolf seemed to always shower alone for some reason which Ghost couldn't quite figure out...yet.
Intently the mouse watched Dan washing up, marveling the physique of the wolf, the astounding power hidden within the massive bulk. According to his masters this particular wolf was an almost successful experiment of the Warrior Gene transplant, the most stable subject of them all whereas the others were -more or less- outright psychotic.
Ghost placed the monitor back into the footlocker, taking out a communications device and starting to type a brief, encrypted message on a secure tachyon line to his masters.
The following day Schaefer called all of the Hounds -minus the still bed-ridden Vincent- together to brief them on their next mission.
In the auditorium of the GFS Triumphant the Hounds sat, chatting amongst each other as usual until -like clockwork- silence fell as Schaefer entered.
The German Shepherd looked even more gaunt and grim as normal as he turned the holo projector on, the slightly flickering image of what apparently was a volcanic planet jumping into view.
"We were supposed to go to Jurmgrad system to aid in the subjugation of an uprising, but just yesterday I received an Alpha-class overrule to the previous orders along with new orders to head for the distant system known as Sade."
Schaefer pressed a button and the image begun to revolve slowly, the image of a hulking, large humanoid in bulky power armor appearing onto the side.
"A scout drone on routine patrol discovered a splinter-colony of the past human empire. According to our intel they have a contingent of Crusaders and Zealots along with roughly a regiment of marines and militia. Our job will be to deploy from high altitude using the impact gel cushions to the outskirts of the city located in a huge, mostly shadowed crater. Once deployed we will penetrate the city along with a detachment of Hell Divers of the Sarcosta 8th marine regiment and we are to go onto a campaign of terror, thus diverting the attention of the humans' main army."
Schaefer's face split into a very faint shadow of a smile "This means we will be hunting again, boys. We kill everything that moves and blow up that which doesn't move. Questions?"
Jake raised his paw and Schaefer nodded for the fox to speak.
"Sir, why won't the navy just bomb the city to the kingdom come from orbit?"
"Excellent question, private. The answer is simple: if that was to be done, some of the humans might survive and they'd have a warren of ruin and rubble to hide in which, in turn, would make rooting them out very, very difficult."
Jericho asked for a permission to speak next and was granted it.
"Sir, how many civilians there are on estimation?"
"Quarter a million, so this is a fairly large colony."
Next up was Martin, but Schaefer simply answered "Yes, yes you may hold the prayer cermon for us all once again as is the tradition."
"Do we really have to put up with the glory-boy Hell Divers?" Sam asked after getting a permission.
"Yes, we do. If you really hate them that much, then think of them as meat wall or something, but still keep in mind that we are nonetheless all fighting for a common cause here."
Nobody else had any questions and Schaefer waved with his paw "Dismissed, we will be arriving in two days so make the best of it, and somebody let Raikov know about this all."
Vincent lied on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling deep in thought. Finally he was able to lie on his back and move around a little of which he was more than just a little happy. Still, Hicks and Rey seemed hell-bent on keeping Vincent in the ward for at least a day or two longer "just to be sure".
What amazed him the most was the fact Jim hadn't visited him yet. Oh well... The official Boytoy of the Hounds was probably busy catering some love to the other guys, Vincent thought with a tiny hint of bitterness. He liked Jim quite a bit, despite the fact the Dalmatian was, to the core, a slut.
Vincent let out a low sigh. He was bored out of his wits in the ward, even more so since the TV had barely any interesting show going on. Ah heck, he just might as well...
Casually Vincent slid his paw under the blanket and into his boxers, running his fingers slowly over his sheath, relishing the enjoyment it brought.
He leaned his head further back into the pillows and closed his eyes, focusing on imagining how the wet fur of Jim had glistened in the showers, how sexy the Dalmatian had looked, bent over against the tiled wall with his tail lifted, beckoning Vincent to come and take him...
The images combined with the slow, tender caressing were plenty enough to make Vincent's sheath harden up, allowing him after a few more brief moments to wrap his paw around his shaft, stroking tenderly along the flesh as he -in his mind's eye- relived the moments in the shower.
Free to do as he pleased, Vincent smiled devilishly to himself and allowed his mind to wander and play a little, picturing himself with some other Hounds too. With Sam, with Rey, with that cute and sorta femmy fox Jake, with... Dan?
Vincent paused as his horny mind conjured up images of the burly sergeant, recalling how it had felt to lie in bed next to the large wolf.
Furiously Vincent pumped his hand up and down along his shaft, casting the blanket aside and wriggling out of his boxers to allow himself more freedom of movement.
The hyena's muzzle split into a broad grin as he pictured himself kissing and feeling the muscular body of Dan, how Dan's large but surprisingly smooth paws would roam over his body, touching him allover.
Vincent's pleasant daydream was abruptly halted as he heard a familiar voice gasping "Whoa! Guess I chose a bad timing, eh?"
Vincent jerked and almost leapt out of his skin, turning his head with an expression of bewilderment on his face to see Sam standing in the doorway, looking thunderstruck.
"I uhh...Yeah, sort of...I guess..." Vincent mumbled, trying to reach for the blanket and letting out a silent curse as he noticed that, in his eagerness, he had ended up tossing the blanket onto the floor.
Feeling his face grow hot, Vincent covered himself up as best he could with his paws, turning to lie on his side, facing away from the Doberman.
"You uhh...Wanted something?" Vincent stammered, sure of the fact the dog was staring quite intently at his naked backside.
"Yeah, I'm here to tell you our next gig will be to hunt down a bunch of humans, and that we'll deploy again using the IGCs." Sam replied softly, spending a heartbeat or two indeed staring at the round, furred butt of Vincent before shaking his head and walking over to pick up the blanket.
"Sorry again for...For disturbing you at such a bad moment..." Sam mumbled as he tossed the blanket over Vincent.
Covered by the thin veil again, Vincent turned around to face the dog, trying to press his painfully rigid penis down to prevent it from bulging the blanket up.
"It's okay, and thanks for the notification." Vincent mumbled in response.
"I uhh...I'll just leave you alone to...to finish up." Sam said, turning around to leave.
Vincent's mind, still reeling with hormones, came up with an idea that nagged at Vincent. Why not see if he could fulfill one of the things he had been picturing? In the end, Vincent snatched Sam by the wrist and yanked the dog back, making the Doberman grunt due to the bruises Ghost had given to him.
Jim had quite often praised Sam to Vincent, so Vincent decided to check things out for himself, plus he just might be able to "get even" with the Dobie so to speak.
"While you're here, why not help me a little? Jim has complimented you, and you looked pretty good back in the toilet when Deadeye pounded you like there was no tomorrow." Vincent said, tossing the blanket aside and sitting up to reveal his still rigid penis, a sweetly devilish grin on the hyena's muzzle.
Vincent relished the sight of the Doberman blushing visibly, the internal struggle plastered allover the dog's face. Ultimately, Sam nodded a couple of times, kneeling then on the floor between Vincent's legs, slowly stroking the hyena's maleness before promptly burying it into his long, slim muzzle in one go, the Dobie's head bobbing up and down slowly.
A gasp of delight escaped Vincent's muzzle, the warm, wet mouth of Sam's wrapped snug around his penis bringing him satisfaction on more than just one level.
Upon hearing the sound of a zipper going down, Vincent tilted his head to the side, churring softly as he saw Sam masturbating whilst sucking him off, whimpering in muffled voice with lust and delight, the dog's eyes closed as he worked his muzzle and tongue along the hyena's shaft.
After a moment Sam pulled his muzzle off of Vincent's maleness, wrapping one paw again around it instead and proceeding to paw him off whilst unlacing his boots with the other paw; a trick the Doberman had learned a long, long time ago.
With the boots gone, Sam could easily shuffle out of his pants and boxers, standing up once he was done, smiling feebly at Vincent with clear blush on his face.
Vincent allowed a shadow of a grin pass over his face as he hopped down from the bed, grunting as he forced himself to push away the sense of dizziness it caused. Sam just stood there, looking surprisingly shy all of a sudden as well as, obviously, eager.
Running a paw along the dog's cheek once, Vincent summarily bent Sam over onto the bed, the dog obliging without hesitation. Churring softly Vincent looked at the Dobie's dark-furred rear, the stumpy tail and the tailhole clearly visible between the sculpted buns of Sam's ass.
Sam whined quietly, leaning his elbows on the bed and turning to look at Vincent, the dog's expression soft and eager, a tiny smile visible in the corner of Sam's muzzle.
Slowly but sternly Vincent slid himself into Sam's tailhole, not stopping until he was pretty much balls-deep inside the Doberman. Letting out a snarl Vincent laid a sturdy smack onto Sam's butt, making the dog whimper again, but none the less the hyena could feel how Sam was trembling with excitement.
Vincent started to buck his hips without any further ado, Sam's fairly tight passage warm and slick around his penis as he pistoned with growing momentum, churring audibly with delight.
Sam lowered himself even further onto the bed, resting his cheek against the warm, soft sheets whilst relishing the feeling of the hyena's cock inside him. with one of his paws firmly around his maleness, Sam pawed off all the while Vincent slammed himself in from tip to hilt time and again.
The scent of the hyena's musk combined with the natural smell of the spottybutt assaulted Sam's nostrils pleasantly, intensifying the feeling of Vincent's hips pressing repeatedly against his rump.
Stimulated quite far already before Sam arrived, it was all Vincent could do to prevent himself from exploding right then and there, craving to prolong the moment just a little bit longer. Still, inevitable is inevitable no matter what and so, Vincent allowed himself to simply go with the flow, slamming himself as deep as he could into Sam's tight rectum just as he shot his load, painting Sam's passage white with his seed.
As long as he could remain rigid, Vincent stayed inside Sam, idly bucking his hips to push his jizz deeper into the dog.
Just as Vincent was too flaccid to stay inside Sam any longer, slipping out of the dog's rump with ease, Sam's whimpering turned into gasping and outright moaning which came to an abrupt end as the Doberman came onto the sheets, leaving a wet, sticky spot.
Visibly trembling with the effort and the euphoria he was feeling, Sam straightened himself up and turned around, smiling broadly at Vincent.
"Jim was right, you are truly 'fucking awesome and cute to boot with' like he put it." the Doberman chuckled, earning a grin from Vincent.
"Heh...It was good indeed. Thanks."
Sam chuckled, leaning in closer to give Vincent's cheek a long lick "My pleasure. Get well soon now, okay? I'll come visit you again if you want to."
Vincent smiled, not saying anything for a couple of heartbeats before nodding "I'd like that." and with that said Sam gathered his clothes and marched off, not caring about the fact he was naked save for his T-shirt.
Somehow, Vincent felt better, more at ease, now that he had given in to the urge to pound Sam's tail, as if some old, hidden grudge had been dealt with. Smiling warmly, he threw himself onto the bed, carefully avoiding the wet stain Sam had left behind, propped one arm under his head and closed his eyes, deciding to take a nap. It was still a couple of hours before Rey would bring him food, so he might as well spend that time dreaming of the four Hounds that meant him the most; Jim, Rey, Dan and, now, Sam...
Looks like Vincent found himself a new lover. Stay tuned for the next episode of the Hounds' (mis)adventures as they return in "The Gentle Giant"!