Cry Havoc

[John_F_Drake]

A dark and oppressive story. Once again, beautifully written. I’m not sure whether I feel sorry for Hound or despise her…

I suspect your opinion might change back and forth a few times before the end.

[John_F_Drake]

Chapter Tags:

Torture and Sadism — Explicit scenes of physical torture including kicking genitals and causing severe pain. The protagonist derives satisfaction from causing pain during sexual assault.
Object Insertion — Using a knife handle to penetrate a captive.
Bondage (Moderate) — The captive is tied to wreckage in a humiliating exposed position.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5 - Poisonous

It was almost funny. I could get used to the alien feeling of connecting with Kerberos and coming to life. I could get used to unpleasant sensations like sleeping in the cold on hard floors. I could get used to the waiting in between my missions, the lack of any interaction at all. All of those things got less exceptional and more normal with repetition.

This never did.

I knelt on the cold metal floor, my knees aching against the hard surface as I forced my throat more firmly onto my handler’s cock. My throat worked automatically, letting myself gag on his length so that my throat squeezed him more the way he liked. It was disgusting, but it was what he wanted, so I obeyed without question, trying not to think about the way the taste of him filled my senses. I hated that I knew exactly how to please him, how to hollow my cheeks and work my tongue in ways that would increase his pleasure and hasten my degradation.

"Your target is Viper," Cernunnos said, his voice as steady as if he were reviewing mission parameters at a conference table instead of having a woman bounce her face up and down on his crotch. His fingers flicked over the ears on my hood, gripping into the unyielding material and using it like handles to yank my head forward hard. My head hit his pelvis hard enough that my nose flattened against his pubic hair. I gagged, but my body betrayed me, adapting instantly to accommodate him and still squeeze his dick with my throat. "You are going to neutralize her."

Morning light sliced through the small window of the makeshift command room that he had established in the small outpost I’d captured for them, casting harsh shadows across his face. His eyes remained cold, analytical, watching my performance with that clinical detachment I'd come to recognize. There was no passion in his gaze as he looked down at me, just hunger and amusement. I fought against the burning in my lungs as he held me in place, his cock blocking my airway. The digital readouts in my visor flashed warnings about my oxygen levels that I didn't need to see… I already knew I was suffocating.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to let me gulp down a ragged breath before I pushed myself forward again. "She used to be one of our Hounds… but she betrayed us. Intelligence suggests they've developed technology to undo loyalty protocols in our older models of augmented humans. Now she’s been seen providing heavy support for the rebel push at our mining operations," he continued, establishing a rhythm now, using my mouth while delivering the mission briefing. My augmented mind catalogued the information even as my body was used. Viper. Former Hound. Traitor. Rebel protector. Technology that could undo loyalty protocols. Each data point filed away with mechanical precision while something deep inside me stirred at that last bit—technology that could free me from this programming? Could that work on m—

The thought was dangerous, forbidden. I buried it immediately.

"You will eliminate her mech, and any rebel forces with her," Cernunnos said, his pace increasing. "Capture her intact if possible. We need to understand how she broke her conditioning." He smiled down at me. “Make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else, you understand?” His fingers tightened painfully on my hood, forcing my head to move faster.

For just a single, mad instant, I had a flash of anger, an urge to bite down. I could sink my teeth into him, digging into flesh and making him scream. The impulse was gone even quicker than the mad urge I sometimes got to jump from the tall height of Kerberos’s cockpit, the idea abandoned as quickly as it came. I was trapped in my own body, forced to service him while my mind raged impotently. "You were created after her," he said, his breath coming faster now. "Generation five augmented human. More advanced. Better. She's only generation three." He smiled down at me, a cold expression that never reached his eyes. "The job we did on you was better than what we did on her in every way.”

Pre-cum coated my tongue, bitter and thick. I didn’t want to be on my knees, out of my true body. I wanted to be in Kerberos. I wanted to be powerful again. Instead, my body continued to serve him without my consent, my lips tightening, my tongue working the underside of his shaft, my throat relaxing to take him deeper then squeezing once he was there to grip him as I drew back. All automatic responses programmed into my nervous system, bypassing my conscious control.

"Her mech was state-of-the-art when it was made, but it’s no match for Cerberus," he continued, using the wrong name for my mech again. It was Kerberos, not Cerberus. But I couldn't correct him. Couldn't speak at all with my mouth full of his cock. "But don't underestimate her. She was once among our best."

She had found a way to break free.

Something about the way my handler said that made me wonder if he'd used her this way, too, before she escaped. Before she betrayed Ka Corporation. Had she knelt before him like this? Had she hated it as much as I did? Yes… I suspect she had.

Maybe, if I returned her to him, she would be the one kneeling before him again, and he would leave me alone. That slut belonged on her knees… I didn’t.

Cernunnos gripped my head with both hands now, slamming me forward as he thrust to meet him. "When you find her—" His voice caught, a momentary break in his composure. "When you capture her, you will bring her to me. Alive. Damaged is acceptable. Dead is not. Do you understand me?"

I felt him tense, his fingers digging into my hood with bruising force. His cock swelled, and then hot spurts of semen filled my mouth, coating my tongue. The taste was revolting, but I couldn't spit it out. Couldn't turn away. "Swallow it," he commanded, his voice hoarse but firm. I obeyed without question, muscles contracting to obey my master’s order. I felt his cum slide down my throat, warm and viscous, as my conditioning left me no choice but to comply. Only when every drop was gone did he release his grip on my head, allowing me to pull back slightly.

"Good," he said, tucking himself away with businesslike efficiency. "Cerberus should have been prepped by now, and it will be waiting for you in the vehicle bay. You deploy in thirty minutes." He ran a hand over my hood in what might have looked like affection to an observer, but felt like ownership to me. A dismissive pat on the cheek, as if rewarding a pet for a trick well performed. "Don't disappoint me, Hound-91," he said, turning away to review the tactical displays on the wall. "I expect Viper's capture by nightfall."

I rose to my feet, my knees stiff from the hard floor, the taste of him still lingering in my mouth despite my attempts to swallow it away. My visor displayed the route to bay three, along with mission parameters and target data. All business now, as if what had just happened was nothing more than standard procedure.

Which, for us, it was.

I moved toward the door, my body once again responding to commands I could control. But the memory of kneeling before him, of being used and unable to resist, burned inside me like acid. I banished that thought. I had a mission. A traitor to hunt.

And perhaps, in hunting her, I might discover a bit of mercy for myself.

——————————

I watched the battle unfold below with my systems running silent.

I positioned Kerberos behind the ridge line, my reactor running on fumes as I let thermal imaging paint the world in reds and blues. Ka Corporation forces engaged with rebels around the mining facility, brief muzzle flashes punctuating the gathering darkness like deadly fireflies. Cernunnos was in my ear as always, his voice a constant reminder of the chain around my neck as he provided updates from what the satellites could see and I could not. The waiting… it didn’t suit me. There was prey down below. Rebel forces waiting to be defeated. Sure, they would be easy targets and beneath my station, but at least I’d be able to unleash my helpless rage on something rather than stew in my own head watching as I waited for my target to appear.

Cernunnos’s voice cut in. "Maintain position, Hound. We have every approach covered but the eastern quadrant, so most likely she will approach from that direction."

"Yes, sir," I replied automatically, the words leaving my mouth before I could even think about them.

"Patience, Hound," Cernunnos instructed, his voice flat in my ear. "Let her commit to the battle."

I didn't respond. Didn't need to. I knew he was right. Patience was a weapon… it just wasn’t one I enjoyed. My fingers squeezed the controls, eager to act. A Ka Corporation assault vehicle exploded on the far side of the compound, sending a plume of black smoke into the darkening sky. My sensors picked up rebel forces moving in to exploit the breach, their heat signatures clustering around the smoking wreckage. In response, airborne reserves from corporate forces moved in to plug the gap.

"That will be her strategy," Cernunnos said. "Drawing our forces into a concentrated response, then hitting the weakened perimeter."

As if on cue, my sensors detected a new heat signature approaching from the east flank, larger, hotter, and moving fast. There it was—Basilisk, Viper's Fenrir mech. It emerged from the smoke like a predator, missiles already streaking from its sleek form with a hundred contrails as they lanced toward the Corporation's front lines. Even from this distance I could appreciate the ambush well done. Viper was good, as she would have had to have been to be one of the Ka Corporation’s Hounds.

Too bad I was better.

"Engage," Cernunnos ordered, but I was already in motion. Adrenaline flooded my system as I launched Kerberos forward, thrusters howling as I cleared the ridge in a single bound. The feeling of power surged through me, my neural link translating the mech's movements into sensations of strength and speed. I accelerated fast, fast enough than a normal pilot would have been dizzy or blacked out even with ideal directionality, but my augmented body and the compression fluid absorbed the pressure like it was nothing. I came down just a little behind Basilisk, the impact shuddering through Kerberos's frame and into my body. The ground cracked beneath us, a small crater forming where we landed.

Then I boosted directly towards her.

Viper reacted fast, even faster than I expected. Basilisk pivoted, rear thrusters firing in a controlled burst as it leaped backward, putting distance between us. Smart. She had been able to recognize at a glance that while Kerberos could fight at any range, I didn’t have nearly the long-range armaments that Basilisk had, and that the laser blade on my right arm was capable of tearing through her armor like paper.

Basilisk's missile pods opened as it pivoted in mid-air, and my HUD lit up with targeting warnings. Sixteen projectiles launched in sequence, the smoke from their passage painting angry lines across my visual field as they arced toward me.

"Shit," I muttered, throwing Kerberos into a lateral slide. The neural feedback system translated the mech's movements directly to my brain, making it feel like my own body was skating across the rocky terrain. I felt every pebble, every bump beneath the mech's feet as if they were my own as the boosters turned Kereberos’s four legs into skids. My fingers twitched, sending commands through the interface. Kerberos's defensive systems activated, launching counter-missiles and point-defense systems to intercept the incoming barrage. The explosions lit up the evening sky, a deadly light show that momentarily overwhelmed my thermal imaging.

Two missiles made it through. The first struck Kerberos's left shoulder plate, the impact reverberating through the neural link into my own shoulder. I grunted at the phantom pain as damage reports flashed across my HUD. The second missile I caught with Kerberos's reinforced forearm, the explosion washing over the mech's armor without penetrating.

Not bad… but the bitch would have to do better than that.

I triggered the twin rail cannons mounted on Kerberos's shoulders, sending hypervelocity rounds screaming toward Basilisk. Viper juked right, once again showing off her reflexes and reaction speed, but the point wasn’t to hit her. It was to force her to maneuver, to cost her speed, and I closed the distance further. Basilisk responded with another volley, this time a mix of missiles and energy weapon from arm-mounted canons. The bitch was trying to pin me down, create a pattern of fire that would limit my movement options. Not a bad strategy against a normal pilot. But I wasn't normal.

My augmented brain processed the incoming fire patterns in microseconds, finding the gaps most humans would miss. I launched Kerberos straight up, forward, and down, cranking the thrusters to a bone-shattering maximum burn that put me through a rise and dive that would have turned a normal woman’s brain to mush, and I crashed through the ruins of a collapsed building as it caught the missile that had managed to keep up with me the best. Then I emerged from the ruins at maximum thrust, an arrow pointed directly for her heart.

Basilisk had weapons emplacements on her arms, and that meant no shields, and no blades. I had to get close.

Basilisk was still moving away, circling wide to get a better firing angle. The rebel mech had superior ranged weapons, but even this short exchange proved that Kerberos was lighter, faster, and had stronger boosters. If she didn’t manage to blast me to atoms, I would catch up to her… then I’d be close enough for my blade to do its work. I burst from cover, pushing Kerberos into a zigzag pattern that made targeting difficult. Basilisk tracked me with continuous fire, energy beams slicing through the air where I had been milliseconds before. The neural feedback from the near misses tingled along my skin. Another building collapsed to my right as one of Viper's missiles went wide, concrete and steel crumbling in a cloud of dust.

I fired my own missiles, not aiming at Basilisk directly but at the structures around it. Predictably, Viper focused on the missiles that posed an immediate threat, shooting them down with precise energy weapon fire. That split-second distraction was all I needed.

I pushed Kerberos to her limits, covering the distance between us in a burst of speed that briefly overwhelmed even my enhanced visual processing. One moment I was several hundred meters away; the next, I was in striking distance.

Basilisk tried to backpedal, but I was already inside its optimal firing range for missiles. My laser blade hummed to life, the energy field surrounding it vibrating at a frequency that could slice through reinforced battle armor. Through the neural link I felt the blade's power as an extension of my own arm, hot and eager.

Viper really was good, I’d give her that. Basilisk twisted at the last second, avoiding a direct hit to its power core. Instead my blade sheared through its right missile pod, the severed component exploding in a shower of sparks and metal. The feedback hit me like a shot of pure pleasure, the destruction transmitting through my neural link as a burst of dopamine that had me grinning behind my visor. Half of the bitch’s teeth pulled. I beared my teeth in a snarl and boosted to keep up as she tried to open the distance again, pressing my advantage.

"Neutralize the target without damaging the pilot, Hound-91. I want her alive," Cernunnos said.

“Yes, sir,” I tried not to growl.

Basilisk countered with a desperate close-range blast from its energy cannon, catching Kerberos in the chest. The impact sent my mech staggering back, and I felt the phantom burn across my own torso. Damage reports flashed warnings, but nothing critical—the armor had held.

I dismissed the pain. My focus was absolute now, my augmented mind calculating angles, velocities, and structural weaknesses faster than any normal human could manage to read the information my computer and sensors gave me. I saw the pattern of Basilisk's movements, the slight hesitation before each evasive maneuver. Through the swarm of missile fire, my opening appeared. I feinted left, then drove Kerberos hard right, anticipating where Basilisk would move to counter me. The rebel mech walked right into my trap, and my laser blade found its mark, slicing clean through the booster engine mounted on Basilisk's back.

The explosion rocked both our mechs, the shock wave momentarily blinding me as it flung me away like a rag doll. When the thermal bloom cleared I saw Basilisk struggling to maintain its balance. The mech’s main boosters had been destroyed: Its back was broken, its mobility severely compromised. A surge of satisfaction went through me. "Target crippled," I reported. "Moving to disable."

Viper refused to give up, even though she had to know it was all over now. Basilisk worked as hard as it could to create distance, its remaining thrusters firing in desperate bursts… but they were trim boosters, there to provide stability and steering, not power. With its main engine gone, it was like watching a wounded animal trying to flee a predator. Pathetic. I closed in again, my rail cannons targeting its legs with the casual grace of a hawk diving on its prey. The first shot took out Basilisk's right forward knee joint, sending the mech crashing to the ground. The impact reverberated through the earth like it had been smashed like a meteor, sending clouds of dust billowing. I circled my prey, savoring the moment. The second shot disabled its left arm, the limb hanging useless at its side.

Viper wasn't done fighting. Even crippled, Basilisk managed to fire its remaining energy weapons, forcing me to dodge. "Is that all you've got?" I taunted, knowing full well Viper couldn't hear me. It didn't matter. This wasn't about communication. It was about domination.

I brought Kerberos's foot down on Basilisk's remaining functional arm, crushing it beneath 60 tons of advanced machinery and hydraulic muscle. The neural feedback was exquisite—I could feel the metal giving way, systems failing, circuits shorting out. And through the link, I knew Viper felt it too, her own body experiencing phantom pain as her mech was systematically dismantled. With all the precision of a surgeon and the mercy of a butcher, I carved my laser blade through two of Basilisk's remaining legs, cutting through the reinforced joint of her knees with deliberate slowness. The blade's energy field melted through metal and circuitry, and I imagined Viper screaming inside her cockpit as the sensory data flooded her nervous system.

"Target neutralized," I reported as Basilisk lay broken before me, smoke rising from its severed limbs. Our fight had taken us a safe distance away from the battle raging elsewhere… I wouldn’t be at any risk if I shut down right now. "Proceeding to pilot extraction."

"Excellent work, Hound-91," Cernunnos purred in my ear. "Bring me the pilot."

I stood over the fallen mech, Kerberos's sensors detecting the pilot's elevated heart rate and stress markers. Viper was alive in there, probably in agony from the neural feedback of her destroyed mech. Good. That would make what came next easier.

"Yes, sir," I replied, powering down my weapons systems as I prepared to disembark. The hunt was over. Now came the interrogation.

——————————

I climbed down from Kerberos, the heat of battle still humming through my augmented muscles as I approached the smoking wreckage of Viper's Basilisk mech. Cernunnos's voice cut through my comm: "Secure the pilot, Hound-91. I want her intact enough for questioning."

"Yes, sir," I responded automatically, the words leaving my mouth before I could even think about them. Through my visor, I could see that the cockpit was still sealed, emergency systems likely engaged. Good. That meant she was almost certainly still alive. That would make Cernunnos happy, which would hopefully mean he didn’t go and make my life more miserable. She could have her turn being weak and submissive instead.

The cockpit's emergency release was hidden beneath a panel on the right side, in the standard place for a Fenrir-class. It took more strength than one normal woman would have to tear that panel off, but my body was conditioned to ignore its limits. The health of my body wasn’t mission-critical, not when the Ka Corporation could restore any damage afterward. I pulled with all the strength in my adrenal system, and the metal shrieked as it bent beneath my pull. Beneath it, the emergency handle glowed red in the darkness, and I yanked it downward, hearing the hiss of depressurization as the cockpit began to unseal and the fluid began to jet from the gaps. I didn't wait for it to complete its cycle. I dug my fingers into the widening crack and pulled, muscles straining as I forced the hatch open. The hydraulics whined in protest before giving way with a sharp crack, the door now hanging useless from a single hinge as I held onto it, making sure the compression fluid didn’t sweep me away in the flood.

Viper was still conscious inside, her face contorted with pain from the neural feedback of her destroyed mech. Blood trickled from beneath her breathing mask and helmet… probably not physical injuries, but the side-effects of a damaged neural interface. Her eyes widened with panic when she saw me, recognition of the threat flickering across her features. She reacted to defend herself, but wrong… Her hands clenched on her control, pulling on them and trying to will the destroyed hydraulics and synaptic functions back to life, too caught up in her mechanical body rather than the one of flesh and blood. I didn’t give her time to correct her mistake: I reached in and grabbed her by the throat, dragging her out of the cockpit.

Viper fought like hell, even after I’d ripped her out of the mech. She landed heavy, rolled, and lashed out with a boot to my jaw that actually made my ears ring. Not bad for a woman who’d just had literal tons of death-dealing warmachine torn out from under her. I bit back a laugh and swatted her leg aside before she could follow it up with a proper kick. She was augmented, no doubt—her hands moved just a little too fast, her recovery time from the first punch was better than any baseline. But she was hurt, her own suit leaking blood and pressure foam from the seams, and the neural backlash from losing her precious Basilisk had to be scrambling her sense of balance. In a fair fight, maybe she would’ve made me work for it. This wasn’t a fair fight. It was a dismantling.

She clawed at my face with gloved fingers, going for the eyes the way all desperate creatures do… not thinking about the way the visor made that pointless. I let her get close, then slammed the heel of my palm into her nose hard enough the visor of her helmet broke. Heard the crunch of breaking cartilage and the wet gurgle of blood as her nose crumpled. She howled, hands flying to her face, and that gave me the opening to drive a hard knee into her gut. Her whole body spasmed and she sagged, trying to curl up. I grabbed the edge of her helmet and used it to yank her up to her knees. “Stop embarrassing yourself,” I spat, glancing down at the dazed, red-streaked face through my visor’s view. “You lost.”

She tried to spit blood at me, but her mouth was too full of it. Pathetic. I punched her in the side of her face, hard enough to rattle her brain in her skull. She went limp for a second like a puppet with its strings cut, and I let her slump to the ground while I wrenched the breathing mask and helmet off her head. The hiss of decompressing seals sprayed pinkish mist across my face, sticky and hot. I tossed it aside.

Now it was just Viper—she was a fit woman, but compared to me she seemed small and pale, with bruises already forming on her cheeks. Black hair, wet with the compression fluids, clung to her back and neck. A bloody tear ran from one bloodshot eye… more damage from the neurological link. She blinked up at me with glassy, defiant hatred, equal parts prey animal and the poisonous reptile she took her name from. It was a good look for a bitch. I knelt over her, one knee pinning her chest, and started tearing at her pilot suit.

She fought again, weak and desperate, using the last dregs of adrenaline to try and shove me off. I rewarded her with another punch to the face, this time splitting her lip and leaving her seeing stars. “That’s enough,” I told her, voice flat and cold. “It’s over. Accept it.”

She tried to say something, a mouthful of blood and broken teeth choking it off. I leaned in, pressing my weight down harder. “You know what happens now, don’t you?” I said, my voice a sneer. “You belong to the Ka Corporation again, traitor.”

Her pilot suit was already torn in places, showing glimpses of pale skin beneath. Not good enough. I needed her exposed. Vulnerable. I drew my knife and began slicing away her pilot suit, the blade occasionally breaking skin and drawing thin lines of blood that glistened black in the orange light of flames. Cutting through the seals at the neck first, I sliced down the front of her chest, exposing the pale flesh underneath. I didn’t care about the patches of blood already soaking through, or the way she tried to squirm away. All that mattered was that she was helpless now—no armor, no weapons, no pride. She tried to struggle, but the neural feedback from her destroyed mech had left her muscles weak and unresponsive. I held her down with one hand on her throat as I cut away the protective layers.

"Stop," she gasped, her voice hoarse. "Listen to me—"

I pressed harder on her throat, cutting off her words. "Traitors don't get to speak," I said, continuing my work until the remnants of her suit lay in tatters around her naked body. When I eased the pressure on her throat, she coughed and gulped down air. Her eyes found mine through my visor, searching for something.

"You don't want to do this," she gasped, her gaze never leaving mine. "This isn't you. I know you!"

Her words stirred something uncomfortable in my mind, a fragment of memory trying to surface. A face, smiling at me. A hand extended. A voice saying a name, one I couldn’t quite make out. Had I known her during my training? When we were both being augmented? I must have, right? I shoved the thought away violently, confused and angry at the intrusion. It didn’t matter, and my neurological conditioning didn't allow for such anomalies.

"You don't know me," I growled, pressing the flat of my blade against her cheek. "You know nothing."

"Fight the conditioning," she continued desperately, words tumbling out as if she knew her time was short. "You're not their puppet! An augmented human is still a human… You’re still you beneath all that tech."

Pain lanced through my skull at her words, sharp and sudden. Warning indicators flashed across my visor—elevated heart rate, irregular neural patterns, hormone spikes inconsistent with combat situations. Something in my programming was fighting against her words, trying to block them out. "Shut up," I hissed, pressing the knife harder until a thin line of blood welled up beneath the blade. “You’re a traitor, Hound-39! Shut up!

"They took everything from us," she continued, her eyes never leaving mine. "Our names, our memories, our humanity. But it's still there, buried deep. You can find it again, just like I did!"

Cernunnos's voice cut through my comm, amused. "Is that what she thinks?” he snickered. “Adorable. Shut her up.”

The direct order triggered automatic responses in my augmented nervous system. I didn’t even think about what I was doing… I just saw red. I had to fight a momentary mad urge to plunge that knife into her eye and see if she’d still talk then, but Cernunnos wanted her alive, so that was never an option. Instead, I pulled it away and brought my foot down on the woman’s face. It was covered in the same synthetic covering as the rest of me, and I pressed it against her mouth, the smooth material scraping against her teeth as I pushed inward. Her eyes bulged as she gagged, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe around the intrusion. I applied more pressure, forcing her jaw wider, watching her struggle with a detached curiosity that didn't quite mask the discomfort her words had caused me.

"Shut the fuck up," I told her, my voice flat and cold. "You were a traitor to Ka Corporation. Now you’ll be lucky just to be FUCKMEAT. That's all you are."

She tried to shake her head, to dislodge my foot from wedging itself down into her open mouth, but I pressed harder, feeling her jaw strain against the pressure. Her hands came up, clawing weakly at my leg, but her strength was nothing compared to my augmented muscles. "You think your words mean anything?" I continued, shifting my weight to increase the pressure. "You think I care about whatever lies you're trying to sell? I am Hound-91. I hunt traitors like you. That is my purpose. My only purpose."

Through my visor, I watched her struggle. A display screen estimated her oxygen level, and I watched it drop, watched her struggles grow weaker as she gagged on my foot. I eased the pressure just enough to let her draw a ragged breath through her nose before pressing down again. "This is what happens to traitors," I said, as much to myself as to her. "You can’t escape your programming, you little slut. You are what you are.” And, a small part of me said, if you hadn’t escaped… then they wouldn’t have needed to activate me. Cernunnos wouldn’t be using me as his toy to masturbate with.

But even as I spoke the words, that fragment of memory tried to surface again—a face, a name, a feeling of connection. I crushed it down with brutal efficiency, channeling the confusion into anger, focusing that anger on the woman beneath my boot.

Viper gagged around my foot, saliva and blood trickling from the corners of her mouth as she struggled for air. Her eyes remained fixed on mine, starting to fill with panic, and that thought made me press harder, smothering her with my foot for a long second. “Just shut up,” I snarled. “You don’t know shit!”

When I finally withdrew my foot from Viper's mouth, she coughed and sputtered, blood trickling from her split lip. Her body trembled, naked and vulnerable on the scorched earth beneath me. Something primal and vicious surged through me: A need to dominate, to punish, to claim power over this woman who dared to suggest I was something more than what Ka Corporation had made me. Who dared to suggest I had a choice. I needed to hurt her for that. Needed to make her regret ever speaking those words.

"You think you know me, traitor?" I hissed, standing over her as she gasped for breath. "You think there's anything human left in here?" I tapped my hooded head, the sound dull against the synthetic material. “There’s not. I’m just a thing. And it’s your fault!”

She tried to crawl away, her naked body dragging across the debris-strewn ground. I followed, stalking her like prey, enjoying the fear that now replaced that insufferable pity in her eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" I asked, my voice flat and cold. "We're not finished yet." Then I drew back and I drove my boot between her legs, slamming the hard toe-cap against her exposed cunt with enough force to make her scream. The sound echoed across the battlefield, lost in the distant explosions of the ongoing fight. The sound sent a rush of satisfaction through me, almost as potent as the neural feedback from piloting Kerberos. Both sensations were power in its most primal form—my body dominating another.

"That's it," I said, watching her curl around the pain. "Scream for me, you simpering traitor bitch!" I kicked her again, harder this time, watching as her body convulsed from the impact. Her flesh reddened instantly, the delicate tissues bruising under my assault. Each impact sent shockwaves of sick satisfaction through my body. This was what I needed—to inflict the pain I couldn't direct at those who owned me, to unleash it on this traitor who had escaped while I remained chained.

"You got away," I snarled, kicking her again. "You broke your conditioning while I'm still their fucking puppet. And they fixed it because of you. They turned me into this thing because of you. And you have the nerve to come back here?" I wasn’t even sure where my anger was coming from, but I was furious, and I drew back and kicked her again. She was trying to close her legs, to squeeze them shut and protect herself from my rage. I forced them apart with my boots, exposing her vulnerable pussy to more punishment. I kicked again, watching her writhe beneath me.

"Stop it!" she sobbed, her back arching in agony as she tried, and failed, to escape the latest in a series of kicks. “Please, what do you want from me! I’ll do what you want!”

Her begging only fueled my anger. I couldn’t defend myself from my handler. I couldn’t stop doing whatever he wanted. I couldn’t stop being a slave, even though I was increasingly sure that I was meant to dominate and not be dominated… but I could unleash on this traitor. On this woman who had found freedom while I remained enslaved. Who had the audacity to suggest I could do the same. "Anything?" I echoed, grinding my heel against her swollen clit, watching her writhe beneath me as I laid my weight down onto her. "Then beg me to hurt you more. Beg me like the traitor whore you are."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "This isn't you," she gasped between sobs. "They made you do this. Just like they made me do these things. You can—”

I cut her off with another vicious kick to her cunt, hard enough that her entire body lifted from the ground for a moment. Her scream this time was ragged, primal, the sound of someone pushed beyond their limits. The power was intoxicating, filling the void where my autonomy should have been.

"Say it," I demanded, stomping down against her bruised and swollen pussy. "Say you're a worthless traitor whore who deserves this punishment."

Her body trembled beneath my foot, her breath coming in short, pained gasps. For a moment, I thought she would continue to resist, to spout more of those dangerous words about freedom and choice. But then her eyes met mine, and I saw something break inside her. "I'm a worthless, traitorous whore," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I deserve to be punished."

The words should have satisfied me, should have fulfilled that primal need to dominate and control. Instead, they left a hollow feeling in my chest. It was like I'd hoped that she would keep on fighting. To keep insisting that there was hope for me too.

I dared not examine that thought too closely, so I pushed it away, burying it beneath more anger, more violence. I drew back and gave her one more kick between her legs, hard enough that her hips rose up off the ground again. Her scream was weaker this time, her body too exhausted to fully respond to the pain. She curled into a fetal position, hands clutching between her legs, trying to protect herself from further assault.

I stood over her, panting from exertion, from the intensity of emotions I wasn't supposed to feel. This fucking whore. Cernunnos wanted her alive, but she wasn’t going to die from this. I just wanted to make sure every time she moved, every time she breathed, she would be remembering what I’d done to her and why. "You're pathetic," I said, my voice steadier than I felt inside. "Is this the great Hound-39? The traitor who escaped Ka Corporation? Just a naked, crying slut on the ground?"

She didn't respond, just curled tighter around herself, protecting her abused cunt from further assault. The sight of her, broken and submissive, should have pleased me. In a way, it did. Beneath the cold satisfaction, something else kept stirring though. Something trying to fight its way to the surface.

Sympathy.

Pity.

Ridiculous.

I looked down at her curled form, at the bruises already darkening on her pale skin, at the blood and dirt marring what had been a perfect Ka Corporation asset like me, once upon a time. My work wasn't done yet. My rage still burned inside me, demanding more. Demanding I take everything from her, just as everything had been taken from me.

And I would. Because that's what I was programmed to do. Because that's all I could do.

Standing over Viper's curled form, I felt the need to break her completely, to strip away every last vestige of the defiance that had allowed her to escape Ka Corporation. I drew my knife from its sheath again, the metal reflecting the flames of the burning remnants of her mech as I contemplated its use. Not the blade, I couldn’t use that on her. The handle, though… That could serve another purpose entirely.

I kicked her legs apart again, unmoved by her whimper of pain as her bruised cunt was exposed once more. The knife felt heavy in my hand as I knelt between her thighs, spreading them wider with brutal movements. The handle was thick and textured for grip, designed for grip in the hand… and promising quite a bit of pain if I used it for what I had in mind. "You abandoned the Ka Corporation," I said, pressing the cold steel handle against her cunt, already swollen from the repeated kicks. "You abandoned me to this nightmare. And you're going to apologize to me for that."

Her entire body shuddered, muscles tensing as she tried to squirm away from the handle of my knife pressing against her swollen, enflamed flesh. I grabbed her throat with my free hand, squeezing until her struggles weakened, until she couldn't breathe. She fought, clawing at my arm, but I was so much stronger than her. The physical difference between us only fueled my anger—I was a new generation, an improvement on her obsolete model, yet she had found freedom while I remained chained.

I pressed the handle into her like a cock, and smiled.

Viper’s cunt put up a hell of a fight, but there was no contest. Augmented muscles and unyielding conviction overbore her. Her swollen pussy might clamp on the knife handle, but it did nothing to stop the ridged metal from stretching her open with a dry, scraping sensation. The resistance just made it better for me, because it showed me that she was being punished. I leaned into the effort hard, savoring that moment when I saw in her eyes that she realized I wasn’t going to let up, that I was going to make her take every last centimeter. That she hadn’t escaped from what she’d suffered at her Handler’s whims at all.

“No!” she yelled, her battered lips sputtering as I ground the handle up inside her. Her pelvis bucked as if she could throw me off, but I had her pinned and I just watched, hungry, as the sick satisfaction rolled through me.

“Apologize to me, you worthless traitor,” I growled, voice flat. I punctuated the order by twisting the blade for leverage, making the traction-seeking surface on the handle carve new pathways of pain through her nervous system as the first of many tears slicked her face.

She choked, her throat raw from earlier, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m…”

She didn’t finish. It wasn’t enough. I clamped down harder on her throat, shutting up the rest. “You can do better than that,” I spat. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’re going to mean it.” I drove the handle in another inch, watching her hips rise. Her legs shuddered and kicked, knees buckling, but my grip on her neck and thigh was absolute. This was what I was built for, the destruction of enemy assets. I was the perfection of the experiment that had begun with earlier generations… and if I had to suffer, so did all of them.

Viper tried to writhe away, but there was nowhere to go with me straddling her thigh, holding her down, the corpse light from her burning mech painting us both in writhing orange and blue. Her body jerked with every motion, every time the ridges caught or popped inside her stretched pussy. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I watched her suffering profile, hunted for the moment the final thresholds in the previously-victimized Hound would collapse and her last defenses would shatter. When she would truly understand that she had escaped nothing at all… that this was all that she was meant for.

When she tried to scream, nothing came out. She coughed against my foot on her neck. I let up just a little on her throat, so she could talk. “Say it,” I commanded. “Say you’re a fucking garbage traitor and that you belong to me.”

She sucked in air, her voice a shattered whisper. “I’m a traitor, I’m—f-fuck, please stop—” Her hands fluttered at my arm, but the fight was gone. “Please. I’ll do anything, just—” She seized again as I pumped the handle in and out, slow, mechanical, never letting her catch her breath or hope for mercy.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, bored. “Try again.” I set a rhythm, every thrust slow enough that she had time to dread the next one. She twisted, but it was all reflex, no plan, all her survival programming conflicting with the reality that she was just broken meat now.

She sobbed, the sound ragged and ugly. “I’m a traitor. I’m a worthless piece of shit. I deserve this. Please. Please!”

The apology meant nothing to me. I just wanted more. I wanted the world to see her like this, ruined and conquered, proof that all resistance was a joke. I wanted to see what was left when she stopped pretending. She shook, her whole body arching in involuntary spasms. Maybe she was on the edge of passing out; maybe the pain was so much her vision tunneled. I kept fucking her with the handle, sometimes burying it deep, sometimes working it in tight little circles that made her whine and writhe. The blood that leaked from her earlier beatings mixed with the lube of her own battered body, slick and sticky and hot. I leaned in and spat on her, watched the glob slide down her cheek and vanish beneath her chin.

“You thought you could leave,” I snarled, voice metallic and hollow. “You thought you could be free. You’d throw people like me away, the second you saw an opportunity.” I planted my hand on her breast, fingers pinching until the flesh purpled. “You’re not special. You’re not even interesting. You’re just a cautionary tale.”

I drove the handle in hard enough to make her scream, really scream this time, a raw and broken noise that fizzled out into silence. She tried to curl up, but my hands were everywhere, pinning her down, spreading her legs, using her however I wanted. I felt alive, alpha, the apex of all this biological engineering. This was what they wanted us to be—machines of domination, perfect tools.

But there was something else, too. A little voice way back in the dark, squirming and uncomfortable, saying that what I was doing was wrong, that I was just Ka’s attack dog, no more in control than the handler who’d made me suck his cock. I strangled that voice, laughed at it. This was control, this was power. When I was like this, I didn’t have to think about that. It didn’t have to be that way, for a short time.

“Please…” she whispered, tears running rivers down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve died.”

“Yeah,” I said flatly. “You should’ve.” I yanked the handle out and shoved it in again just to hear the noise she made. She jerked, pain overriding everything else, and slumped back, defeated and limp.

I slowed the fucking, kept the handle deep inside her, let the moment drag. I wanted her to remember this, every second. Wanted it to overwrite every other memory she might’ve had about freedom or hope.

“You’re nothing now,” I told her, words cold and deliberate. “You’re just a toy for the people you betrayed. Is that what you wanted?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at the sky, the fires in the clouds reflected in her eyes. I let her go, letting her sink down to the ground with her pussy gaping around my knife, leaking and ruined. She didn’t react. Viper was gone, checked out somewhere far away, nothing left but the breathing and the tears.

Perfect.

I leaned back, squatting over her, body humming with adrenaline and purpose. Then I yanked her up by the hair, forcing her to sit up. “You’re going to say it,” I told her. “You’re going to tell everyone what you are.”

She blinked, eyes unfocused, but when I backhanded her across the face she snapped to, just enough to whimper, “I’m a traitor. I’m a traitor. I’m a—” She shuddered as I twistedher clit with my fingers. “—a whore. A traitor whore. I deserve it.”

“Louder,” I demanded, driving the handle deeper. "Tell me what you are."

"I'M SORRY!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "I'M A WORTHLESS TRAITOR!"

Her screams echoed across the battlefield, drowned out by the distant sounds of combat. No one was coming to help her. No one cared about one broken woman in the midst of war. Just as no one had cared when Cernunnos bent me over his desk, when he cut a hole in my suit, when he used me like I was using her now. Elsewhere, the Ka Corporation forces and the rebels were still fighting, but my mission was to ensure the capture of the Fenrir pilots… I didn’t care what happened to the rest of the forces.

I twisted the clit sharply one last time, punishing her and showing the wretched sow just how much I hated her. Then I finally withdrew the knife from inside of her. It glistened with hints of blood and her pussy’s pathetic attempts to defend itself, and I wiped it clean on her bare thigh, leaving a smear of red against her pale skin. Then I grabbed her hair, yanking her head up as I brought the handle to her lips. "Clean it," I ordered, pressing the metal against her mouth. "Taste yourself, traitor."

Her eyes, filled with pain and exhaustion, met mine through my visor. For a moment, I thought she might refuse, might find some last reserve of defiance. Instead, her lips parted, accepting the handle that had just violated her. Her tongue moved slowly, cleaning her own fluids from the metal as I pushed it deeper into her mouth.

I watched her tongue work as she complied, tasting the mixture of her blood and cunt on the tool. She looked like she knew what she was doing, and I immediately felt sure I was right about the use my handler, or another handler, had put her to. It looked like she was remembering it, too, and her humiliation was complete in this final act of submission.

Something twisted in my chest at the sight. It wasn’t satisfaction, and it also was not the triumph I had expected. Instead, I felt something closer to shame. A feeling I quickly buried beneath layers of conditioning and cold purpose. I had nothing to be ashamed of.

When the handle was clean, I withdrew it from her mouth, watching as she collapsed back onto the ground, her body trembling with exhaustion and trauma. I stood over her, knife still in hand, the power I'd felt earlier now hollow and unsatisfying.

"Remember this," I told her, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "Remember what happens to traitors."

Cernunnos's voice cut through my comm, cold and businesslike: "Retrieval team will be there for the target in twenty minutes, Hound-91. Secure her for transport." I sheathed my knife and looked down at Viper's broken form. Her naked body was a canvas of bruises and blood, a testament to my handiwork. She wasn't quite unconscious, but was floating in that hazy space between awareness and oblivion. Weak enough not to resist, but aware enough to feel everything.

"Yes, sir," I responded automatically, the programmed words flowing from my mouth while my mind churned with conflicting thoughts.

I grabbed Viper by her hair, dragging her battered body back toward the wreckage of her mech. Her limbs hung limp, occasionally twitching when I pulled her over particularly rough terrain. She made soft, pained sounds which I ignored. Her mech lay in ruins, its once-sleek form now a twisted sculpture of metal and circuitry, and I thought it would probably be cheaper for the corporation to salvage the ruins for scrap and build a new Fenrir mech than to try to repair this one. Its severed limbs lay scattered around it, a testament to my rage and brutality with the laser blade. I propped Viper against the front of the destroyed cockpit, her head lolling forward as I positioned her. Her eyelids fluttered, consciousness returning in waves as the cool night air revived her. That was good… She should be aware for this final humiliation.

Using strips torn from her pilot suit, I bound her wrists to a twisted metal strut that had once connected to the mech's right arm. The synthetic material cut into her skin as I pulled it tight, keeping her from working herself free. I repeated the process with her ankles, binding them to opposite sides of the cockpit frame, spreading her legs wide to expose her abused cunt to anyone who approached.

The position was deliberate—spread-eagled across the front of her own destroyed mech, her naked body would be a visible message to any rebels who turned their visual sensors on the ruins of their fallen champion. This is what happens to those who defy Ka Corporation.

I stood back to admire my work, feeling nothing but cold satisfaction as I observed the bruises blooming across her skin, the dried blood between her legs, the tear tracks cutting through the dirt on her face. Her breathing was shallow but stable. She would live long enough for the retrieval team to collect her, to bring her to Cernunnos. After that, she would only wish that she had died.

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then gradually sharpening as they found me standing before her. Where I expected to see fear, or hatred, or even the broken submission I'd worked so hard to create, I found something else entirely… pity. Pity and something that looked disturbingly like understanding. "You'll remember who you are someday," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the distant sounds of battle. "Just know I forgive you."

The words hit me like a physical blow, disrupting the cold satisfaction I'd been feeling. A strange pressure built in my chest, uncomfortable and foreign. Was this... guilt? Shame? Emotions I shouldn't be capable of feeling, that had been programmed out of me during my creation. A moment later, my conditioning slammed down on my mind with the weight of a falling Manticore, hammering me back into cool, analytical calm with a small undercurrent of anger. "Shut up," I snapped, taking a step back from her. "You don't know what you're talking about."

I turned away, refusing to acknowledge the uncomfortable twist in my gut that her words had inspired for a moment. They weren’t true. I was Hound-91. I knew who I was. That was my designation, my identity, my purpose. There was nothing before that anymore, and trying to look for it only led to more pain.

And yet... that fragment of memory that had surfaced earlier when she claimed to know me. The face was similar to hers, younger, smiling. The hand extended. The name on her lips. What if...?

No. I crushed the thought before it could fully form. These were exactly the kind of subversive ideas that could destroy me.

As I climbed back into Kerberos, I heard the distant sound of the battle moving into the distance. The rebels, it seemed, were retreating, abandoning their positions beneath the weight of defensive Ka Corporation fire and air support now that their Fenrir backup was gone. My sensors locked onto their heat signatures automatically, calculating intercept trajectories with cold efficiency. Fresh targets. Fresh purpose.

I quickly powered up my mech's systems, moving as fast as I could, and I let the familiar hum of my reactor revving up drown out even the memory of Viper's final broken words. The neural link engaged, flooding my consciousness with data streams and tactical projections. This was clarity. This was certainty. This was what I was made for. I did not shoot one last glance back at Viper’s bound form. I certainly didn’t notice how fragile she looked bound to the remnants of the mech’s frame, waiting for a fate worse than death. That was just the direction I was looking as I scanned for rebels.

And she certainly didn’t know me. Not anymore.

"Target secured," I reported to Cernunnos, forcing my attention away from Viper and back to my mission. "Proceeding with pursuit of remaining hostiles."

"Excellent work, Hound-91," came the reply, his voice carrying that rare note of approval that sent a crushing avalanche of dopamine waterfalling down on my psyche and obliterated all conscious thought for a glorious half a second. I needed that. I longed for it, and the total mental oblivion it provided.

Just before I lost myself, though, a single, treasonous thought attacked my mind like the viper she had taken her callsign from. Just a question, buried deep beneath layers of programming and obedience: If Viper had once been like me, and had found her way back to who she was before... could I?

The thought was treason.

It might also be salvation.

Then the pleasure was past, and that thought was buried deep, deep down, and I focused on the hunt; on chasing down the targets fleeing through the darkness. I was Hound-91. I served Ka Corporation. I hunted traitors and rebels. That was all I was allowed to be.

For now.

End of chapter 5
-------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed this story. You can find many other stories by me, or commission me, here.

[John_F_Drake]

Chapter Tags:
Mech Combat (Strong) — Detailed descriptions of tactical warfare using giant humanoid war machines.
Sadism (Moderate) — The protagonist hacks enemy systems to overwhelm them with pain, and takes pleasure from it.
Power Dynamics (Strong) — The protagonist demonstrates superior combat skills against multiple opponents.
No Sex — This chapter is primary action, and while there are sexualized dynamics at play there is no direct sex scene in this chapter.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6 - Ambush

The hypersonic chunk of depleted uranium that the railgun launched missed my head by inches, close enough that superheated air slapped against my faceplate. Even with my tactile feedback dialed down to 5% it stung like a faceful of steam. I dropped into a crouch behind the strip-mined ridge, my heart pounding with the rush of combat… feeling alive like I never did outside of my real body. This was freedom. This was living. In Kerberos, I wasn't just some hole to be used – I was a weapon, a predator, unstoppable. The turrets would learn that soon enough.

"Hound, report status," Cernunnos's cold voice cut through my comm channel, precise and demanding.

"Functional, sir. Taking fire from multiple Jörmungandr emplacements." I kept my response short.

Nine missions. This was my ninth mission since awakening, after two Earth weeks. Complex after complex raided, and rebellion force after rebellion force crushed. Still, another pilot hadn’t been sent after me since Viper. I wondered if the pilots were scared to face me. If they weren’t, at least the legendard Guardian of Elysium Archangel should have come to face me by now.

These static defenses just weren’t much of a challenge to someone like me.

I scanned the mining complex through Kerberos's targeting systems, identifying six Jörmungandr defense turrets positioned strategically around the perimeter. Nasty bastards with hypersonic railguns that could tear through mech armor like wet paper. They were fantastic point defense systems to repel any kind of standard assault… But Kerberos wasn't standard, and neither was I. They were strategically positioned to create overlapping fields of fire. It was a smart setup, but not smart enough… The strip mining the rebels had been doing here created natural channels and ridges I could use to approach without exposing myself to more than one or two turrets at a time. That would let me break down their defenses into chunks and dismantle it.

The dusty mine’s landscape spread before me, riddled with excavation pits and mining equipment. Perfect cover for my approach. I flexed Kerberos's fingers, feeling the articulation of each joint as if they were my own. This was my true body – not the flesh prison I was stuck in otherwise with my face hooded and holes exposed, waiting for Cernunnos to use. Here, I was powerful. Here, I was whole.

"Engaging defense network at mining site Alpha-3, sir," I said, then took evasive action, boosting rapidly through the gap and into the mining fissure as quickly as I could.

"Proceed,” my handler commanded. “Target priority is north quadrant. Intelligence indicates control systems are located there. Eliminate and proceed to primary objective."

"Yes, sir." The neural link tingled across my skin as data flooded my mind. Kerberos's damage reports, ammunition counts, and targeting solutions merged with my consciousness. I flexed my fingers, feeling the responsive twitch of multi-ton limbs as if they were my own. I plotted my approach through the natural fissures that scarred the mining site, planning my approach for a moment. Then I pushed off from my cover, Kerberos's legs propelling us forward in a controlled sprint that sent tremors through the ground.

The first turret swiveled toward me as I rounded a mound of excavated ore. I boosted forward into a trench just as it fired, feeling the displacement of air against my ‘skin’ as the round passed overhead. Targeting solutions projected across my vision, and I raised Kerberos's shoulder-mounted rail cannons without breaking stride. With a squeeze, I unleashed and the recoil surged through Kerberos's frame and into my body as the twin rail cannons discharged. The turret exploded in a shower of superheated metal and electrical discharge, the feedback from a perfect shot sending a wave of pleasure through my nervous system. My lips curled into a feral grin. Five more to go.

“Aerial contacts inbound from the south,” Cernunnos reported. My targeting system tagged them: Harpy combat aircraft, six of them, flying in attack formation. These weren't automated defenses but rebel pilots who thought they could flush me out, put me into the open for the turrets to rip apart.

"Acknowledged, sir. Engaging," I reported. I broke from cover, deliberately exposing Kerberos to draw fire from both the turrets and the approaching Harpies. The turrets responded immediately, their targeting algorithms too rigid to resist such an obvious target. I counted the seconds, timing their reload cycle while tracking the approaching aircraft.

A Harpy screamed overhead, its pulse cannons strafing the ground around me. I felt each near miss through the neural link, hot pinpricks of sensation across Kerberos's hull. I pivoted sharply, bringing my rail cannons to bear on the retreating aircraft. The targeting solution locked, and I fired.

The Harpy disintegrated mid-air, its debris raining down across the mining site. I ducked Kerberos behind a massive excavator as three more Harpies dove toward my position. Their targeting systems were good, but I didn’t give them an opening long enough to draw a solid bead on me… The moment they committed to their attack run, I stepped out and unleashed a barrage from my missile batteries. Two exploded instantly as rounds found them and detonated. The third pilot tried to evade, the munition chasing them as they broke hard to the left… That slowed them down in my frame of reference enough to make it easy to anticipate their maneuver and adjust my aim. Another railgun shot lanced through the Harpy's wing, sending it into an uncontrollable spin before it slammed into one of the turrets.

Two birds, one stone.

"Northern turret cluster targeting your position," Cernunnos informed me. "Evade."

I was already moving, feeling the ground shake beneath Kerberos's feet as railgun rounds impacted where I'd stood moments before. The remaining Harpies circled overhead, more cautious now. I sprinted between cover positions, staying just ahead of the turrets' tracking systems.

This was where I belonged—in combat, making split-second decisions that meant life or death. Not kneeling before Cernunnos with his cock down my throat, not bound and helpless while he used me like a piece of equipment no more important than one of these rebel aircraft. In my real body, I was untouchable. In Kerberos, I was whole.

I leapt Kerberos onto a ridge, using the elevation to target the next turret. My rail cannons roared, the recoil sending shivers of feedback through my nervous system. The turret crumpled, its barrel twisting grotesquely before secondary explosions tore it apart.

The remaining Harpies made another pass. I ignited Kerberos's laser blade, the superheated energy casting an eerie glow across the mining site. As the first aircraft streaked past, I boosted straight upward at 100% and slashed up with every carbon-fibre muscle in my mech’s form. The blade reached, and it cleaved through its hull like it was paper. The aircraft split in two, both halves continuing on their momentum in different directions before exploding.

"Targets eliminated," Cernunnos noted with a hint of approval that sent an unwanted flush of pleasure through my body. This felt ugly and unclean… the result of my mental conditioning when I was augmented and put through neural compliance, rather than a result of my feedback with Kerberos. I was coming to hate it, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I focused on the mission.

I turned my attention to the three remaining turrets, determined to finish this quickly. I boosted through the fissure, zigzagging to make myself a harder target for the instant I was exposed. Railgun rounds smashed into stone and ore and sprayed me with debris but none found their mark. I slid Kerberos into position behind the closest turret and drove my laser blade into its base, feeling the resistance give way as metal melted and electronics fried.

Two left. I targeted both simultaneously, locking on with my rail cannons while calculating firing solutions. The turrets swiveled toward me, preparing to fire. I fired first.

Twin explosions rocked the mining site as my rounds found their targets. My conditioning rewarded me for the victory… The neural feedback from destroying all threats sent a wave of satisfaction through my body, not quite sexual but adjacent to it—the closest thing to pleasure I was allowed to feel on my own terms. "All defensive emplacements neutralized," I reported, scanning the area for any remaining threats.

"Confirmed," Cernunnos replied. "Proceed to primary objective. The rebel mining extractor is located 400 meters down, inside the main shaft. Destroy it and deny them this resource."

I turned Kerberos toward the yawning entrance to the mine, sensors probing the darkness beyond. As I approached the mine entrance, I felt a twinge of reluctance. The open battlefield was my domain, where Kerberos could move freely. The confined spaces of the mine would limit my mobility, making me vulnerable. But orders were orders, and the neural compliance protocol wouldn't let me consider disobedience. "Yes, sir."

My boosters were silent. One slow step forward at a time, Kerberos’s four legs carried it into the shadow of the mine entrance, and it swallowed me whole like a hungry mouth, darkness closing around me as I guided the massive mech into it and down.

My sensors compensated immediately, painting the industrial tunnel in sharp relief—support beams, conveyor systems, ventilation ducts—but the knowledge that tons of rock loomed overhead made my skin crawl. In the open, I could move, dodge, escape. In here, I was boxed in. Just the thought made my stomach clench.

"Take a right at the first branch," my handler instructed through my comms. "The extractor is offline. It should be easy to destroy."

I moved Kerberos deeper into the tunnel, each step echoing in the confined space. The mech's shoulders nearly scraped the walls on either side. If I had to fight in here, I'd have almost no room to maneuver, so I had my proximity sensor set to the maximum… I would need as much warning as possible if something was active down here. Dusty air filled with mining particulates swirled in the beams of Kerberos's floodlights as it illuminated the darkness. As I passed beneath them, I noticed the metal support beams bowed slightly. How much weight were these pieces of shit holding back? And how many of them could I knock out before the whole thing came down on my head?

"Structural integrity of this section is questionable," I reported, scanning the ceiling. "These supports have been stress-tested beyond recommended parameters."

"The rebels lack proper engineering resources," Cernunnos replied dismissively. "Focus on the objective."

I grit my teeth, but proceeded. The tunnel widened slightly as I approached what my sensors identified as a major junction. Industrial equipment lined the walls—drilling platforms, ore processors, autonomous loaders sitting idle. I slowed Kerberos's pace, scanning methodically for threats. "Detecting power signature ahead," I reported, adjusting my sensors to focus there. "Should be the extractor."

"Proceed with caution," Cernunnos instructed.

I stepped Kerberos forward, passing through the junction and into a larger tunnel beyond. The ceiling rose higher here, giving me more room to maneuver. Some of the tension eased from my shoulders—at least I could raise my arms if I needed to fight. The tunnel ended abruptly at a massive excavated chamber. My floodlights swept across the space, revealing industrial mining equipment arranged around a central platform. The extractor sat at the center—a monstrous piece of machinery that burrowed into the planet and drained resources like a mechanical parasite.

Something felt wrong. The extractor was powered down, just like I was told it would be… its massive drills motionless. There was no personnel present, no security measures, no defenses… not even any rebel personnel fleeing. Just the machine sitting there, abandoned like a gift left out as a sacrifice. "Target located," I said, moving Kerberos cautiously into the chamber. "No visible resistance. Proceeding to—"

My tactical systems blared warnings of a strong, penetrating radio signal an instant before the detonation. The explosions came from everywhere at once—ceiling, walls, floor. Not directed at me, but at the chamber's support structure. I reacted instinctively, trying to throw Kerberos backward toward the tunnel entrance, but I was too late. The ground buckled beneath Kerberos's feet as shock waves rippled through the chamber. Support beams shattered like toothpicks. The ceiling came down in massive chunks, almost quicker than thought. The first impact hit Kerberos's left shoulder, driving me down to one knee. I felt the blow through the neural link… Even at 5% throughput, it was like someone had shattered my collarbone with a sledgehammer. I screamed, more in rage than pain, and tried to force Kerberos back to her feet.

Another chunk slammed into Kerberos's back, driving me face-first into the ground. The weight pressed down, pinning me in place. More rocks fell, piling onto Kerberos's legs, arms, burying me completely beneath an avalanche of stone and metal. The neural link translated every point of pressure into sensation across my body—crushing weight on my spine, legs, arms, even my head. I couldn't move. Couldn't escape.

"Status report, Hound-91," Cernunnos demanded, his voice cutting through my panic.

Before I could respond, a new alert flashed across my neural interface… Kerberos’s firewall was detecting an intrusion attempt. Someone… someone with a great deal of familiarity with my computer systems… was hacking me, attempting to seize control of my command systems.

And I was too trapped to do anything about it.

"Under attack," I managed to gasp out. "Electronic warfare. They're hacking me."

"Counterattack," Cernunnos ordered. "Do not allow them to shut down the Fenrir unit’s core systems."

I would have liked nothing better than to do exactly that, but I couldn’t even move. I snarled in frustration, struggling against the crushing weight. The rocks shifted slightly, sending new waves of pain through the neural link. I immediately turned my sensitivity down, lest the tons of rock drive me mad with the pain.

My breathing became rapid and shallow as panic clawed its way up my throat. The combined assault—physical restraint and electronic invasion—triggered something primal in my brain. I wasn't in the mine anymore, I wasn’t in my strong, powerful, capable body. I was on my knees in Cernunnos's quarters, his hand forcing my head down while he shoved his cock into my mouth, my hands lovingly caressing his balls though I’d rather have used them to rip my own throat out.

"No!" I screamed, the sound echoing in my cockpit. "Not again. Not like this."

I fought against the restraints, both physical and electronic. Through the neural link, I could feel the hacking attempt probing deeper into Kerberos's systems, seeking access to peripheral functions one by one. The crushing sensation intensified as more debris settled, increasing the pressure on Kerberos's frame. Even with the feedback system turned off, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think clearly. Every instinct screamed at me to escape, to fight, to kill. The electronic attack continued… The hacker was good, and it was making swift progress through Kerberos’s security protocols. Warning lights flashed across my neural interface. Ten minutes, maybe less, before they breached the core systems. Before they owned me.

I would not be owned again.

I had to get out. Had to break free before the hack progressed further. Before I lost Kerberos. Before I lost myself. I thrashed, but I was blind… I couldn’t even see what I was doing, or where the rocks were holding me down. With my head pinned, even if my sensors could pick up enough light to see by, I wouldn’t be able to scan. How could I find my way loose if I had no idea how I was pinned?

The only way to find a path out was to feel the pressure points, to know exactly where each crushing rock pressed against Kerberos's frame. I needed the pain to map my prison… so I turned the feedback system back on, and turned it up. It hurt terribly as pressure points dug into my frame in a thousand places, burning like lightning strikes. Even at 15%, every rock pressed against Kerberos translated to crushing pressure on my own body—my chest, my legs, my arms, my skull. I cringed in agony, hissing through clenched teeth as a fresh wave of pain radiated through my spine. The neural link translated the tons of rock pinning Kerberos's back into the sensation of my vertebrae slowly cracking under immense pressure. My lungs strained for air, the feeling of suffocation all too real despite the cockpit's intact life support.

"Hound-91, report status," Cernunnos's voice cut through my comm channel. There was an element of concern in this voice. Not panic for a subordinate in danger… concern like for a cracked foodstuff jar.

"Working on escape plan, sir," I managed through gritted teeth. "Hack progressing. Need... few minutes." I couldn't waste energy on detailed reports. Every ounce of concentration focused on testing Kerberos's limbs, searching for any freedom of movement. I tried the legs first—completely pinned, the weight so crushing that even at 15% feedback, pain flared red-hot up my thighs. Left arm similarly immobilized, trapped beneath what felt like a solid slab of rock. The right arm responded slightly… maybe a mere meter of movement, barely perceptible except through the heightened sensitivity of the neural link. A small pocket of space, perhaps created by the way the debris had fallen.

It wasn’t enough to free the arm, but enough that it gave me some room to work with.

I carefully rotated Kerberos's wrist, feeling for the limits of the small space available. Each tiny adjustment sent shards of pain through my arm as metal scraped against jagged rock, the neural link faithfully transmitting every abrasion and pressure point. I ignored it, focusing on the goal: Creating enough room to activate my laser blade.

When I had the wrist positioned at the optimal angle, I took a deep breath and commanded the emitter to open… and it slid into place, letting me let out a sigh of relief through clenched teeth as I channeled power to the weapon system. The superheated energy blade ignited in the confined space, instantly vaporizing the rock it contacted. Fresh pain bloomed along my arm as the heat reflected back onto Kerberos's own armor, but I pushed through it. I had to keep cutting.

I guided the blade in a short arc, the neural link letting me feel the resistance of each layer of stone. The stone slipped with each bit of vaporization, settling the pile in a different fashion and creating fresh spots of pain. The heat built up in the confined space, turning my metal prison into an oven. Sweat poured down my face inside my hood as the temperature rose… With nowhere to go, it slid down between the suit and skin and felt like insects crawling around beneath the surface. "Move…" I snarled, pushing the blade deeper, ignoring the way my arm felt like it was being seared to the bone. “Move. Move. Fucking move!” The neural link couldn't distinguish between damage to Kerberos and damage to my own body—it all registered as my flesh, my pain… That was the point, after all.

A larger rock shifted above me, causing the entire debris pile to settle. Fresh weight crashed down on Kerberos's chest, the pressure translating to my ribs. Something cracked—not in my actual body, but in Kerberos's frame. The pain was real enough though. I screamed, the sound echoing in the confined space of the cockpit. Warnings flashed before my brain… Structural integrity at 63%. Danger of catastrophic collapse imminent. I gasped, trying to steady my breathing. The hack had progressed further… It still hadn’t reached my core systems, but my IFF and scanners were completely offline. I was running out of time.

I pushed the laser blade further, cutting away at the rock above Kerberos's right shoulder. If I could create enough space to leverage that arm properly, I might be able to push away the debris pinning the rest of me. Each movement sent waves of agony through my body as the neural link faithfully transmitted every strain and stress on Kerberos's frame. Rock melted away, slag dripping onto Kerberos's armor plating. The heat was unbearable, the confined space turning into a crucible. But the space around the arm was growing. I could now move the limb what felt like inches to my fingers, probably actually a meter. It was not enough to free myself, but enough to start applying real force.

I growled in raw, animal rage, straining the servos in my mech’s arm. I braced the forearm against a particularly large boulder and pushed, feeling Kerberos's hydraulics strain against the seemingly immovable weight… and we moved it. The boulder shifted slightly, grinding against other debris. The movement sent cascading pressure changes throughout the pile, some rocks settling heavier while others loosened.

I seized the opportunity, using the laser blade to cut through newly exposed sections while continuing to push with the arm. Each movement caused the debris to shift, sometimes creating new pockets of space, sometimes crushing down harder on other parts of Kerberos. The neural link transmitted it all—sharp, stabbing pains when edges dug into plating; dull, crushing pressure when boulders settled on broader surfaces; searing heat where the laser blade's reflection scorched Kerberos's own armor. I took advantage of every bit of new space, kicking with all four legs to move myself along the part of the cave-in I had cleared. Through it all, I kept cutting, kept pushing, kept fighting. I lost track of time, lost myself in the rhythm of pain and progress. The space around Kerberos slowly expanded, the right arm gaining more freedom with each passing minute. Soon I could move the arm fully, using it to systematically clear debris from around my head and torso.

When I could finally see through the front sensors again, I nearly laughed at the progress I'd made. I could just barely see the gap into open space at the end of the cleared and melted space. I was out of time, though. The hacking attempt was reaching into critical systems: Movement controls were being compromised, and my legs weren’t working right anymore; Core processing was experiencing intrusion attempts; I had minutes or maybe just seconds remaining before I lost control of my boosters, and that would kill me as surely as a self-destruct sequence. I had to go for it now. I diverted all power to Kerberos's boosters, cranking them up to 100% for one massive surge that would either free me or tear the mech apart. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what was coming.

Then boosted as hard as I could.

I unleashed everything Kerberos had left, thrusters igniting at maximum output, leg servos straining beyond safety parameters. The neural link exploded with sensation: It felt like having my legs ripped from their sockets while my back and arms were flayed. I screamed, the sound raw and primal, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

The debris above me shifted, then heaved. Rocks cascaded down around Kerberos as the mech lurched sideways, scraping against stone as she ripped her way free from the prison that had held it. Pain beyond description flooded through the neural link as metal screeched against stone, armor plating tearing, circuitry rupturing. It felt like being born and being torn apart at the same time. Violent and agonizing… but ultimately freeing. Kerberos burst from the rubble in an explosion of dust and stone, emerging into the larger chamber beyond. Damaged but operational.

I was free.

My breathing came in ragged gasps, sweat soaking my bodysuit beneath the hood. Every muscle trembled from the phantom exertion transmitted through the link. Most importantly, though, I was still in control of Kerberos, for now. I didn't hesitate. As soon as Kerberos's systems stabilized, I boosted at the fastest speed I could manage and I’d just walked down a few minutes ago, the tunnel blurred past as I pushed Kerberos to her maximum velocity. Damage warnings flashed across my neural interface, but I couldn’t pay them any attention right now. The hacking attempt was still active, probing for ways back into my systems. I could feel it like phantom fingers scratching at the edges of my consciousness, looking for weaknesses in my firewalls. If I ran into a wall at this speed I might smash myself, but I didn’t have time to wait. As I went, Kerberos ran a quick systems check. My mech was damaged and my armor plating was torn in multiple places, and two of my legs were non-functional so I had to rely entirely on the boosters, dragging the limp appendages along. My heat sinks were compromised, and the targeting systems for my railguns were offline… but my core systems remained functional. I could still fight.

“Sat-comm notes two power signatures just activated above ground,” Cernunnos noted flatly. “High likelihood of Fenrir units.”

I was boosting right towards the source of the hacking signal… It was coming from the fissure above. Whoever had tried to bury me alive and disable my mech was still out there, and I intended to tear them apart with my bare hands. Kerberos was a wounded predator, but a predator nonetheless.

I burst out of the mine into harsh daylight, sensors immediately adjusting to the change in illumination. Dust still hung in the air from the explosions, casting the mining site in a hazy glow. My tactical systems immediately tagged two signatures in the vicinity: Two Fenrir units, both holding position approximately three hundred meters from the mine entrance.

"Fenrirs detected," I reported, scanning the mechs as Kerberos's systems identified their configurations. "Models match specifications."

"Two units identified," Cernunnos reported, his voice tense. "Identified by sat-comm as ‘Valkyrie’ and ‘Artemis’. High-value Children of Elysium assets.”

The hacking signal was coming from Artemis, that was clear. If my memory served, it was piloted by callsign "Wraith," one of the rebel leader’s daughters. The sleek, predatory mech maintained a strategic distance, its hexapod configuration allowing it to perch on an elevated ridge, and I could spot an oversized comm unit on one of her shoulders… no doubt optimized for electronic warfare and the source of the attack on my system. Valkyrie, a bulkier and more heavily armored quadruped like me, had positioned herself protectively between me and Artemis. A classic hunter/protector configuration. Wraith was trying to shut me down remotely while her friend kept me from tearing her throat out.

Interesting. I realized I considered Valkyrie a ‘She…’ like Kerberos. I wondered why, but I didn’t have time to question the random associations of my mind right now. "The hacking attempt is coming from Artemis, sir,” I reported, trying to reboot systems. If I could just get my targeting systems online… "I can confirm target identification."

"Situation assessed," Cernunnos said coldly. "Order: immediate tactical retreat. Fall back to extraction point Alpha. We will send fire support."

That was a direct order. I had to comply. My hands moved and I started turning toward the retreat vector before I could even process the command, the conditioning bypassing my conscious mind and going straight to my muscles. The need to obey felt like a physical force—a weight pressing down on every nerve ending, an itch under my skin that could only be relieved by compliance.

But that was a mistake. I knew it for certain… Retreating meant defeat. Artemis would never let me get out of range… I doubted that mech was capable of keeping up with Kerberos for long, but she didn’t need to keep in range of hacking me for very long. She could keep shutting down systems until Kerberos was nothing but an immobile shell, and I was trapped inside. "Sir," I forced out, fighting against my own body's automatic response. "Cannot comply. Tactical analysis indicates retreat impossible under current conditions."

The words felt like ground glass in my throat. Questioning Cernunnos—even with an excellent reason—sent waves of anxiety through my nervous system. My skin flushed with heat, sweat beading across my body beneath the tight bodysuit. My muscles spasmed painfully, receiving punishment for even this mild resistance.

"Retreat," Cernunnos demanded, his tone sharpening.

It hurt. I swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. "Artemis has superior range on its electronic warfare systems, sir. I won't escape its radius before losing control of Kerberos completely." Another system went offline, and another leg locked up. Kerberos stumbled slightly, and I fought to maintain balance. I struggled to keep my voice steady as more pain signals flooded my system. "Current damage to Kerberos means I cannot outrun either Fenrir. Tactical retreat guarantees capture or destruction."

My body trembled with the effort of resisting the compliance I was conditioned to. It felt very much like being trapped beneath the caved-in rocks again. That same helplessness, that same pain, that same rage.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. My breathing grew ragged, muscles twitching with increasing violence as the compliance protocol demanded obedience. Blood dripped into my mouth—I'd bitten my tongue without realizing it.

"Negative on retreat," Cernunnos finally said, countermanding his previous order. The relief was instantaneous, my body sagging as the compulsion lifted. "Engage and disable Fenrir assets to ensure safe extraction. Priority target Artemis."

"Yes, sir," I responded, the words flowing easily now that they aligned with the protocol. The neural compliance protocol rewarded me for the eventual submission, sending a warm rush of pleasure through my nervous system. My body relaxed into the familiar sensation, even as my mind recoiled from it. The same warmth I felt when I swallowed Cernunnos's cum like a good obedient pet. The same relief I felt when he pumped his jizz up my ass, or made me cum at a word.

I forced the feelings aside, focusing on the tactical situation. Valkyrie had shifted position, her distinctive shield generators powering up with a blue glow that cut through the dusty air. Artemis remained on its perch, the hacking attempt continuing unabated. Valkyrie was the immediate physical threat, but Artemis was the one killing Kerberos from the inside out. I needed to take out the hacker first, but her protector would make that difficult.

Valkyrie's defensive capabilities were formidable—electromagnetic shields could deflect most conventional attacks, and her armor was significantly heavier than Kerberos's, especially now with my damage. Artemis, by contrast, sacrificed armor for mobility and stealth, but its position on the ridge gave it both cover and the high ground.

I needed to be fast. I needed to be brutal. And most of all, I needed to be unexpected.

“Engaging, sir.”

I launched Kerberos forward with everything I had, the damaged mech burning every booster that was still operational. My targeting systems were still offline, forcing me to rely on visual tracking and instinct. I pushed toward a cluster of mining equipment, using the massive excavators as cover while I closed distance on Artemis. The neural link translated every strain and stress in Kerberos's frame to my own body, and I lowered the sensitivity back down. Valkyrie reacted immediately, her bulky quadrupedal form moving with unexpected grace to intercept my approach. Blue energy crackled to life as her electromagnetic shield generators deployed, casting an eerie glow across the dusty battlefield.

One of my railguns had been ripped off my back from my desperate boost free from underneath the rocks, but I fired the one I had left without my compromised targeting systems managing to lock on. My augmentations made sure I hit anyway, but just barely: Even the hypersonic slug deflected off of the EM field, smashing against a cliff-face and sending visible ripples across the barrier in waves.

She was once again in the way. I adjusted my approach vector… I needed to get past Valkyrie to reach Artemis, but Valkyrie was living up to her reputation as a defensive powerhouse: A rippling burst of rockets shot from one of her pods, forcing me to break away to make them miss.

It left me vulnerable to her partner.

From atop the ridge, Artemis opened fire with its own railgun system, a "Huntress" rail. Unlike my heavy magnetic cannon, a Huntress was designed for pinpoint accuracy and maneuverability, able to rapidly adjust its aim. The slug was small, but as it smashed against my shoulder the impact was still more than sufficient to stagger me instantly and send white-hot pain lancing through even the reduced neural link. I staggered back, using a support pillar for cover as I reassessed.

I growled, ducking Kerberos behind a massive ore processor as another precision shot from Artemis pinged off the metal just centimeters from my head. I couldn’t let myself be pinned down…

I analyzed the battlefield through Kerberos's remaining sensors. The strip-mine fissure offered multiple levels of elevation, with industrial equipment scattered throughout. Valkyrie maintained a defensive position directly between me and Artemis, her shield generators pulsing with energy as she prepared for my next move.

I hit the boosters, sending Kerberos blasting across an open space, drawing fire from both mechs while aiming for a cluster of mining equipment that would provide better cover. Valkyrie's cryo-projection system fired, the spray of freezing liquid nitrogen narrowly missing Kerberos's hip. "Come on, you shielded bitch," I snarled, feinting right before cutting sharply left, using Kerberos's superior speed to create an opening. For a brief moment, I had a clear line of sight to Artemis. Targeting by instinct and eyesight I fired my railgun, the recoil sending shudders through Kerberos's damaged frame.

Artemis shifted with unnatural speed, dodging the less than perfect shot. Simultaneously, Valkyrie slammed into Kerberos from the side, the impact driving us both into an excavator. Metal screeched against metal, the neural link translating the collision as a full-body blow that wanted to knocked the wind from my lungs.

I spun as quickly as I could, driving my fist at her, hoping to get enough space to bring up my blade. It felt so slow to me. The battle-damage to my mech was significant, and I wasn’t nearly as quick as I was used to being. I failed to connect. Valkyrie got inside my swing, grabbing onto me. I expected to feel a blast of rockets them, right into my exposed side.

None came. Her augmentations might be too slow for her to take advantage of the momentarily opening where we were aligned in our grapple. That was an advantage for me, and as damaged as I was I needed to fully exploit anything that went in my favor.

We wrested at close range, Kerberos and Valkyrie locked together in a deadly dance that felt intimate and violent simultaneously. I managed to get a little room, and my laser blade sparked to life. I sent it carving a glowing arc toward Valkyrie's shield generator. Valkyrie countered, catching my arm with her heavy fist and wrenching it aside. It felt like my arm was being torn from its socket.

Too slow for this.

I drove Kerberos's knee up into Valkyrie's midsection, feeling the satisfying crunch of armor buckling. The pilot—Shieldmaiden—responded by slamming her mech's head into mine, the impact rattling through my skull via the neural link.

But she still had a rack of rockets on either side of her torso, and she didn’t fire them.

I narrowed my eyes. This time, she should have had the time to fire. It would have been nearly impossible to miss in that grapple… That could have ended the fight. It also might have avoided critical damage to Kerberos at the same time, leaving most of my peripheral system intact. The only downside would be that she would be unleashing all of that explosive force just a few meters from where I was piloting her from, and all the compression fluid in the world wouldn’t be enough to stop that shockwave from turning me into a bloody puddle.

Artemis's shots were hitting peripheral systems, damaged areas, extremities—damaging my advanced systems that Amber Engineering had upgraded and the rebels couldn’t match but never targeting Kerberos's core where the cockpit was. Valkyrie was grappling, restraining, pushing me back rather than using her considerable weaponry at point-blank range.

The realization hit me like a physical blow: I had assumed they were trying to capture Kerberos intact. I’d been wrong. They were trying to capture me intact.

The thought sent a wave of rage through my body so intense it momentarily overrode the pain signals from the neural link. They wanted to capture me. Take me alive. Take me as a prisoner. The idea of being a captive again, bound and helpless and at the mercy of my enemies, made me shiver with disgust. Cernunnos was bad enough… I didn’t want to be taken by someone else.

I set my boosters to go into a rotation and cut free, jetting in a corkscrew. The torque finally broke me free from Valkyrie's grapple, using a burst from my remaining functional thruster to create separation. I landed awkwardly… With my legs not working, Kerberos almost buckled beneath me. More and more systems were going offline. Primary power regulation offline. Hydraulic pressure dropping in the left arm. I was losing systems fast.

I gripped the wall, using it to rotate myself before I boosted forward, trying to use all the speed I was capable of to break past Valkyrie's interdiction. For a moment, it seemed to work—I slipped past Valkyrie's initial blocking maneuver and sprinted toward the ridge where Artemis perched. Then Valkyrie deployed her secondary weapon system and sprayed me with cryo-fluid again. The blast caught Kerberos's right side, instantly freezing the armor and underlying mechanisms. The neural link translated the impact as an agonizing cold that penetrated to my bones, my right arm and leg going numb with sympathetic response. It also froze several of my boosters, turning my movement into a lopsided charge that scraped me against the wall.

That slowed me down enough that Valkyrie was on me again in an instant, her electromagnetic shields forcing me back and away from Artemis. The defensive mech was performing her role perfectly—keeping me occupied while Artemis continued to disable me. The combination of physical and electronic attacks forced me into an increasingly defensive posture. The mining fissure itself was becoming a hazard as our battle damaged support structures. I tried another approach vector, using the debris from the collapsed equipment as cover. Once again, Valkyrie intercepted me, her shields flaring as they absorbed my desperate attacks… my repeated railgun shots were too poorly aimed to be able to hit the evasive Artemis as it maintained its distance.

I couldn’t get through.

I screamed in frustration, smashing Kerberos's fist into a nearby support strut. The metal crumpled, but the action accomplished nothing strategic. I was being systematically dismantled, and conventional combat wasn't working. I needed a new approach. Something they wouldn't expect. I couldn't outfight both of them, not with Kerberos's systems failing one by one, not with Valkyrie blocking every attempt to reach Artemis.

What I needed was to turn their advantage against them.

A desperate plan began to form in my mind. Risky, unconventional, and with a high probability of failure. But I was running out of options. And if it worked, I could turn Artemis's greatest strength into its ultimate weakness.

I abandoned all pretense of defensive tactics. If I couldn't reach Artemis through conventional means, I'd force an opening through sheer aggression. If I was wrong about them trying to take me alive, then I was dead. I pushed Kerberos forward in a reckless charge with no attempt to evade… If they wanted to launch a missile or a railgun shot directly into my core, then I was vulnerable. I deliberately overrode safety protocols that would normally prevent such dangerous operations of damaged systems. Warning lights flashed across my neural interface as servos whined in protest and hydraulics were strained to their limits, but I kept going… Pain was temporary. Failure was forever.

Valkyrie adjusted her stance, bracing for my charge. Her shield generators pulsed brighter as power diverted to the defensive systems. The quadrupedal mech looked immovable, a wall of armor and energy between me and my target.

I suddenly went evasive, zigzagging Kerberos across the open ground. It left my left side exposed with another clear line to the cockpit. Leg extended too far on a turn—vulnerable to immobilization.

Each time, I watched for the killing blow. Each time, it never came. Valkyrie fired her weapons to force me back, to redirect my charge, to keep me at a distance—never to destroy. Artemis targeted peripheral systems, avoiding critical components that would cause catastrophic failure. No killshot came. My theory confirmed, I pushed Kerberos harder, taking risks that would be suicidal against an enemy intent on killing me. I let Valkyrie's shield impact me directly, absorbing the energy discharge through Kerberos's already damaged systems to get close enough for a direct attack.

The contact sent electricity arcing through Kerberos's frame, the neural link translating it as white-hot agony coursing through every nerve ending. I screamed but didn't retreat, driving Kerberos's energy blade toward a junction in Valkyrie's leg armor.

The blade connected, piercing through the reinforced plating and into the joint beneath. I felt the resistance give way through my synaptic feedback, like a knife cutting through gristle to find the soft meat beneath. Hydraulic fluid sprayed from the wound, spattering Kerberos's chassis.

The mining fissure itself was becoming as much a threat as my opponents. Our battle had damaged multiple support structures, destabilizing entire sections of the excavated walls. As Kerberos and Valkyrie impacted, I drove the mech into the wall and set off a secondary from a ruptured fuel cell in one of the mining vehicles. It sent a shockwave through the area, triggering another collapse of equipment from an upper level. Massive ore grinders and sorting machines tumbled down, crashing into the battlefield below. I narrowly avoided a crushing death, the neural link sending phantom sensations of debris scraping against Kerberos's armor as I dodged between falling equipment.

Valkyrie wasn't as fortunate—a massive sorting conveyor slammed into her side, temporarily pinning the mech against a rock face. I seized the opportunity, sprinting toward Artemis while its protector was occupied.

I made it halfway up the ridge before Artemis's hacking breached my main firewall. Ancillary systems were still protected for the moment, but not for longer… its comms unit was uploading specialized worms and modifications into my computer systems now, enslaving systems to the other Fenrir unit’s control.

"Cerb— re—nd," Cernunnos ordered, his voice metallic and urgent and filled with static. I opened my mouth to reply, but my comms unit flashed with a fan of red errors. The Artemis hack had finally taken something vital—communications shut out, my handler's voice dropping from my mind in mid-sentence, cut clean as a garrote. The sudden silence made me giddy and sick at the same time: no hate-fueled guidance, no threats, no rewards, no punishments, just the raw voice of my own pulse echoing in my ears. Isolation. It was terrifying, and it was almost beautiful.

It was time to try the one avenue I had thought of to get through their defenses: the very connection Artemis was using to hack me. The link we had opened both ways. If Artemis could reach into Kerberos's systems, perhaps I could reach back. I didn’t have sophisticated viruses prepared or any electronic access protocol to try to counter-hack, but there were a few things I could think of to weaponize that connection that Wraith might not have thought of, and be prepared for.

This plan was insane. It violated every protocol for electronic warfare defense, and it also went against every instinct for self-preservation I possessed… But I was out of options. If this fight continued on its current trajectory, I would lose Kerberos completely within minutes. I'd become a passenger in my own body, helplessly watching as the Children of Elysium captured me and destroyed Kerberos and shattered the only independence I had left.

I pivoted sharply, making it look like I was attempting yet another futile charge at Valkyrie while secretly implementing my plan. In my neural interface, I began selectively lowering specific firewall protections—creating deliberate vulnerabilities in Kerberos's non-essential systems. It was like cutting my own flesh to lure in a predator, but I needed Artemis to sink its teeth deeper, to establish a more direct connection between our systems. The hack had been careful, methodical until now. I was about to invite it to get sloppy.

Warning lights lit up in my HUD one after the other, screaming at me about firewall modification and security vulnerability. It was a redundant warning, since I was doing it myself. Cernunnos likely wouldn’t have approved of this plan… but I couldn’t ask my handler, so he couldn’t tell me not to do it. I kept opening additional back doors into my own systems. Peripheral systems, communication channels, secondary processors. Breadcrumbs leading deeper into Kerberos than Artemis had managed to penetrate so far.

The effect was immediate. I lit up like I was being targeted by missile locks from the AEGIS as the hack sent tendrils rushing toward the newly exposed vulnerabilities. I wasn’t sure if it was the neural link or my own paranoia, but I could have sworn I felt an invasive, crawling sensation beneath my skin, like insects burrowing into my flesh. I gritted my teeth against the revulsion and continued my rush forward… and as Artemis's intrusion spread through the deliberately exposed systems, I began coding my counter-attack.

It wasn’t any kind of sophisticated anti-hacking protocol. I didn't have the tools or expertise for something like that. Instead, I crafted something much more primitive and vicious. A single command into the system under the presumption it was using the same OS that I was. It was something small enough her internal anti-virus programs wouldn’t find it and shut it down immediately, which meant that I couldn’t go for her weapons or boosters or reactor.

Instead, I went for her sensory feedback.

Every Fenrir used neural links similar to mine, transmitting physical sensations to the pilot to enhance control. The difference was in sensitivity and regulation. My conditioning had forced me to adapt to levels of pain that would leave most pilots twitching on the floor. I was willing to bet that Wraith hadn't experienced anything close to what I had been through.

"Come on, bitch," I muttered, continuing to play a game of cat and mouse with Artemis. fingers flying through the neural interface as I completed the worm. "Get greedy. Take the bait."

I could feel Artemis establishing deeper connections, shutting down more of Kerberos's systems. Motor control dropped to less than 60%. Multiple weapon systems offline… The magnetic coils that powered my railgun were shutting down. All of my targeting systems were down. The anticipation systems that compressed my shock fluid were done, and it made my limbs feel heavier and more sluggish. With each system Artemis compromised, the connection between our mechs grew stronger. The data channel widened, flowing both ways even if Wraith didn't realize it yet. When my worm was complete, I embedded it in a seemingly critical system diagnostic packet—exactly the kind of packet Artemis would be looking for and seeking to access.

Time for the final gambit.

My boosters were still online, so I cranked them to the maximum. With a roar that was half battle cry, half scream of pain, I launched myself at Artemis, and almost blacked out with the acceleration. I took a hit from Artemis’s rail canon that made me see red, and lit up every last diagnostic light I had: My left arm was severed, tumbling down to the ground. My vision blurred with pain, but I pushed through it, kept Kerberos moving forward, kept closing distance. I had only seconds to use my speed advantage to reach Artemis before it was too late.

The Fenrir unit attempted to retreat, its hexapod configuration allowing it to scuttle backward with unsettling speed. But I had momentum, and desperation, and a willingness to absorb damage that its pilot couldn't match. I crashed into the smaller mech with Kerberos's full remaining weight… driving a single, stomping kick into the mech’s groin.

It wasn’t a strategically important part of the mech. It didn’t contain reactors, or part of the drive system, or weapons, or sensory data. It was mostly just armor and servos, highly durable systems that would be hard to damage and wouldn’t stop her from boosting anyway. That was fine… because I wasn’t trying to damage the mech.

I was aiming for the pilot.

Her hacking attempt had accessed the datapacket I had poisoned, and the worm had activated… overriding Artemis's sensory feedback settings. They had been operating at a safe, casual 2%, enough to feel the ground and other tactile details but not enough for pain to be crushing. I had cranked them up to 100%, allowing the pilot to feel every single detail that the Fenrir unit’s digital nervous system could impart directly into Wraith’s mind. I felt a surge of savage satisfaction as the mech beneath me spasmed violently, its movements suddenly erratic and uncoordinated.

I could imagine the shock and pain radiating through Wraith's body as the sensation transferred directly to her cunt. The kick would have felt like a battering ram between her legs, the neural feedback amplified to levels that turned even minor impacts into feeling like I’d hit her personally. Artemis staggered backward, its limbs twitching as Wraith struggled to maintain control through the pain. The hacking attempt against Kerberos faltered, then ceased entirely as the pilot's focus shattered under the sensory assault, and I tackled us both to the ground in a tangle of metal limbs.

She elbowed me in the face, but I pressed my advantage without mercy, delivering a series of brutal, targeted strikes to the same area. Punch, punch, punch… each of them directly to her groin. Damaged as I was, I was unlikely to be able to disable the mech in a fight… so I went for Wraith. "How's it feel, cunt?" I growled, driving Kerberos's knee up into Artemis's groin again, feeling the metal buckle beneath the impact. The attacks were explicitly sexual in nature, a violation more intimate than mere combat. I wasn't just fighting Artemis; I was raping its pilot through her neural link, letting her experience a fraction of what I had to go through Every. Single. Day. "No one is taking me prisoner! I’m not going to be tossed into your test tubes for your people to do what they want with!”

Artemis's movements became increasingly uncoordinated as Wraith lost the ability to control her own body. I grabbed Artemis by what passed for its throat, pinning the smaller mech against the rock face. With my other hand, I formed Kerberos's fingers into a spear-like configuration and drove them repeatedly into the mech's groin area, punching through the outer armor to the sensitive systems beneath. "You wanted inside me so badly," I taunted, punctuating each word with another brutal thrust. "How do you like it when I get inside you, bitch!?"

Artemis finally collapsed, its pilot incapacitated by the overwhelming sensory assault. The hexapod legs folded beneath it like a dying insect's, twitching and vulnerable on the strip-mined stone. The sophisticated mech that had nearly defeated me through electronic warfare was reduced to a quivering heap of metal, its pilot likely unconscious or in shock from the sensory overload.

I stood over the defeated Artemis, systems returning to normal as the hacking attempt failed completely. Through the neural link, I felt a perverse satisfaction that bordered on orgasm—the rush of victory, of turning the enemy's strength against them, of dominating another completely. It was the closest thing to pleasure I was allowed to feel on my own terms.

As Kerberos's systems came back under my full control, the firewalls were reestablished, and functions returned online as my systems rebooted. I turned my attention back to Valkyrie. The defensive mech, having freed herself from the collapsed machinery, was approaching rapidly. Her shields flared with renewed energy. I had no doubt Shieldmaiden was desperate to protect her fallen comrade.

But it was too late. I had beaten their electronic warfare expert at her own game. The rage I felt was so pure it felt like molten metal in my veins. The temporary vulnerability I'd experienced—the violation of having another force their way into Kerberos—had left me with a fury that demanded release. I abandoned all defensive posturing, all tactical restraint, all concern for my own safety. Now, with nothing holding back Kerberos's remaining weapons systems, I was ready to show Shieldmaiden and her mech exactly what happened to those who tried to cage a Hound.

I launched Kerberos forward with a feral scream, pushing the damaged mech beyond all safety parameters. Warning lights flashed across my neural interface as structural integrity dropped to critical levels, but I didn't care. Let the frame buckle. Let the servos burn out. As long as I could tear Valkyrie apart before Kerberos failed completely, nothing else mattered.

Valkyrie's shields flared brilliantly as they absorbed the first wave of my attack, blue energy rippling across the barrier like water disturbed by a stone. Shieldmaiden fought defensively, trying to protect her disabled comrade while looking for an escape route.

"No way!" I snarled, cutting off her retreat path with a burst from my remaining functional thruster. "You don't get to run, bitch! Not after what you tried to do to me!"

I circled Valkyrie with Kerberos's superior speed, using the devastated mining equipment as cover while approaching from multiple angles. One of my arms was gone, but my systems were coming back online rapidly. I felt myself smiling, a manic grin that would have disturbed anyone who could see inside my hood.

Valkyrie's primary advantage was her electromagnetic shield generators—the technology that had kept me at bay during the earlier stages of our battle. Two emitters, mounted on her forearms, projecting overlapping energy fields that could deflect most conventional attacks. Take those out, and the heavily armored but relatively slow mech would be vulnerable. My systems were back online, but that didn’t mean that I was fully operational yet… My remaining railgun was still warming up, the magnetic coils building up the power that they would need to launch a slug. I needed a few more moments.

I feinted a frontal assault, drawing Valkyrie's shields forward before abruptly changing direction and striking at the mech's exposed flank. My fingers tapped rapidly on my side, impatiently waiting… Not ready yet, not ready yet, not ready y–

I felt the moment the coils went live. My weapons were active again, and I smiled savagely as I fired. It had taken just a moment too long, and the slugs impacted just beside the right shield generator rather than driving into it. It wasn’t a direct hit, but close enough to still hit the shield and strain the system.

Shieldmaiden responded with a blast from her machine guns. The shots narrowly missed Kerberos's head as I ducked behind a collapsed ore processor. A section of the wall collapsed in an avalanche of rock and dirt, adding natural hazards to the already treacherous battlefield… Our battle was making the entire fissure unstable in a hurry.

I used the environmental chaos to my advantage, timing my movements with the collapses, using dust clouds for cover. Each attack brought me closer to my target—those shield generators had to go.

When the first generator failed in a shower of sparks, the satisfaction that surged through me bordered on orgasmic. The neural link translated my triumph into waves of pleasure that washed away the pain of Kerberos's damaged systems. One shield down, one to go.

"First blood," I taunted, knowing Valkyrie's pilot couldn't hear me but unable to contain my excitement. "Let's see what you look like when you're split wide open."

Valkyrie fought with increasing desperation, her remaining shield focused on protecting the second generator. Shieldmaiden was good—I had to give her that much. She used the terrain effectively, keeping her vulnerable side away from me, making each shot count. She wasn’t being careful to avoid hurting me anymore, I noticed… Rocket after rocket and burst of fire after burst of machine gun fire, she was launching everything she had at me.

Too fucking late.

I drove Kerberos through another collapsed section of the fissure wall, bursting through the rubble directly behind Valkyrie. The surprise maneuver caught Shieldmaiden off-guard, her shield facing the wrong direction as I slammed into her mech's back with Kerberos's full remaining weight.

We crashed into a support column, the impact sending vibrations through the entire chamber. More of the ceiling came down around us, massive chunks of rock adding to the chaos. Through the neural link, I felt every impact against Kerberos's frame, but the pain only fueled my rage.

I grabbed Valkyrie's remaining shield arm, wrenching it backward at an angle the joint was never designed to bend. Metal screamed against metal as I applied increasing pressure, feeling the resistance through the neural link like I was breaking a real limb. When the arm finally gave way with a satisfying crack of structural failure, I ripped the shield generator free from its housing, tearing away cables and hydraulic lines that spurted fluid like arterial spray.

"There we go," I snarled, tossing the useless component aside. "Now we're even."

With both shields down, Valkyrie was exposed—still heavily armored, still dangerous, but vulnerable in a way it hadn't been before. Shieldmaiden tried to create distance between us, using her remaining weapons to keep me at bay while searching for cover.

I gave her no chance to recover. I threw Kerberos into a full assault, ignoring damage warnings and structural alerts. The laser blade ignited in my hand, superheated energy casting an eerie glow across the devastated landscape as I closed distance.

The blade sliced through Valkyrie's shoulder joint, severing the right arm completely. I caught the limb before it fell, using it as a makeshift club to smash against Valkyrie's head, denting the armor and damaging the sensor array. The neural link transmitted every impact as if I were using my own arm to bludgeon my enemy, the satisfaction of each blow sending waves of pleasure through my nervous system.

"How does it feel?" I screamed, continuing my assault. "How does it fucking feel to be helpless?"

Valkyrie staggered backward, systems failing under my relentless attack. The mech attempted to fire its remaining weapons, but I was too close, too fast, too fucking angry to be stopped now. I tore into Valkyrie with savage efficiency, ripping components free with Kerberos's hands and slicing through armor plating with my energy blade.

I cut away Valkyrie's left arm next, the blade passing through the joint with minimal resistance. The limb crashed to the ground, fingers still twitching with residual power. The destruction was intimate and visceral, with me experiencing each tear and cut through the neural link as if I were using my own hands to dismember an opponent.

"You thought you could take me?" I hissed, driving my blade into Valkyrie's midsection, twisting it to maximize damage. "You thought you could control me!?"

I worked methodically, dismembering the mech piece by piece. First the arms, then the sensor array, then the weapon systems. I sliced through the legs next, dropping Valkyrie to what remained of her knees before me. The neural feedback from the violence sent waves of dark pleasure through my system, each successful strike rewarding me with a rush of satisfaction that fed my rage.

By the time I was finished, the mech was in pieces. I stood over the ruins of Valkyrie, surrounded by the dismembered components I'd torn free and scattered across the battlefield. Kerberos was damaged almost beyond recognition with her armor torn away, systems failing, structure compromised, but unlike the others mechs she was still functional. Still me. The chamber around us was equally devastated. Support columns had collapsed, walls had caved in, mining equipment lay in twisted heaps of metal. It looked like a natural disaster had struck, not a battle between pilots.

I finally rebooted my communications system. “Report!” Cernunnos demanded immediately.

"Objective achieved," I reported to Cernunnos, my voice hoarse from screaming during the fight. "Both enemy Fenrirs neutralized. Pilots appear to be alive but incapacitated."

There was a pause that felt forever. "Well done, Hound!" Cernunnos responded, and I hated how the simple praise sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine despite my exhaustion. "Extraction team is en route to your position. They will secure both pilots and transport them to headquarters for interrogation."

"Yes, sir," I replied automatically, the words empty and mechanical after the raw emotion of combat.

"Your performance exceeded expectations," he continued. "Cerberus will need to be repaired. You are to report back to our forward operating base for repair and debriefing. The two of us have much to discuss.”

I said nothing, knowing no response was required. The adrenaline was fading now, leaving me hollow inside Kerberos's cockpit. The neural link translated my exhaustion faithfully, my limbs feeling leaden and distant as the system began to compensate for the stress I'd put on my body. I should have felt triumphant. Instead, I felt a strange emptiness. The rage that had fueled me was gone, leaving nothing but the knowledge that tomorrow, I would be back on my knees in front of Cernunnos, all this power and freedom just a memory. Debriefing meant that Cernunnos had uses for me while my mech was being repaired. I hated that… but as I looked down at the two defeated mechs, I hoped that at least I wouldn’t be suffering alone.

But for now, for these few remaining moments before the extraction team arrived, I was still Kerberos. Strong. Free.

It would have to be enough.


End of chapter 6
-------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed this story. You can find many other stories by me, or commission me, here.

[AdmiralPiet]

I have only read chapter 1 and beginning of 2 so far, but the rest is already in the pipeline.

When it was first posted I had only skimmed over the first chapter. I am a "visual" type of reader, meaing there is a video running alongside the text in my head.
That first mention of the skin tight body uit and the hood conjured up the wrong images in my head and I skipped it.
Glad I gave it another chance after it came back up again several times, and I really do like the title.

It is a very good start to a story. As others have said: This is above "just" porn.
I liked the descriptions of the emptiness at the beginning, the small instances of revulsion and resistance that are overuled by programming.

The sex scene left me a bit ambivalent. It was well written, but since Hound-91 could only protest in her mind and not react it was like Cernunnos fucking a lifeless doll.

Some words being written all capitalised like HANDLER, CUNT, TITS. Is that her programming, overemphasising ho she processes these words to increase submission?

Given the nature of this story I don't think there will be a happy ending for Hound-91 or any of the mentioned mech pilots. But man do I wish for bad things happening to Cernunnos.
If the intention was to make him unpleasant/diasgreable, you succeded.

I liked the connections to mythology in the callsigns and mech names. Was there a bit of inspiration from the Halo universe? Kerberos, a Fenrir mech reminded me of Spartans in Mjolnir-Armour.

[John_F_Drake]

The sex scene left me a bit ambivalent. It was well written, but since Hound-91 could only protest in her mind and not react it was like Cernunnos fucking a lifeless doll.

There is a bit of that. It will change and adjust in a few ways as the story goes, but she is definitely less than pleased with the restraints of her conditioning. You'll have to read on to see where that ends up.

Some words being written all capitalised like HANDLER, CUNT, TITS. Is that her programming, overemphasising ho she processes these words to increase submission?

That's it exactly. Those are a word being supplied to her forcefully by her mental conditioning, redoing her vocabulary as it feeds her a term.

Given the nature of this story I don't think there will be a happy ending for Hound-91 or any of the mentioned mech pilots. But man do I wish for bad things happening to Cernunnos.
If the intention was to make him unpleasant/diasgreable, you succeded.

That is usually the goal with my rapist characters. To make them pretty unpleasant human beings. That or to find something human and sympathetic in them regardless, depending on the story. This one is definitely an example of the former, though.

As for the ending, I will not spoil, other than to say this. This story has TWO endings. I usually release my stories for free, but with only one of the endings, and have the other one be exclusive to the ebook. I won't tell you which ending this one has, but I will say that I am about 50/50 on my endings for stories I write.

I liked the connections to mythology in the callsigns and mech names. Was there a bit of inspiration from the Halo universe? Kerberos, a Fenrir mech reminded me of Spartans in Mjolnir-Armour.

There is a major mythological theme running through this story, as you noted. There might be a bit of a Halo inspiration in here, as I've played the games, but not a conscious one. There is a lot more Gundam, Armored Core, and Evangelion in this one that I'm aware of, but you know what they say - stealing from one person is plagiarism. Stealing from a hundred people is art.

[AdmiralPiet]

That's it exactly. Those are a word being supplied to her forcefully by her mental conditioning, redoing her vocabulary as it feeds her a term.

Nice touch

That is usually the goal with my rapist characters. To make them pretty unpleasant human beings. That or to find something human and sympathetic in them regardless, depending on the story. This one is definitely an example of the former, though.

Mission accomplished I would say

There is a major mythological theme running through this story, as you noted. There might be a bit of a Halo inspiration in here, as I've played the games, but not a conscious one. There is a lot more Gundam, Armored Core, and Evangelion in this one that I'm aware of, but you know what they say - stealing from one person is plagiarism. Stealing from a hundred people is art.

I only know Gundam and Evangelion on a very surface level, and almost nothing about Armored Core.

Is it possible for you to point me towards a picture of a mech similar to a Fenrir-Class?
You mentioned four legs, and Fenrir, Kerberos and Hound 91 imply something canine, but then again other descriptions make me think of something more humanoid.
Pretty certain Kerberos is among the sleeker type of mechs, not like Battletech or Warhammer

(Btw. your descriptions of the Pilot-Mech interfacing could also work pretty well for a Warhammer 40k Titan)

I have now read up to the end of Chapter 2

I really do like your writing style, and the way you handled the combat scene.
At times I feel some small things a bit repetetive, like how she always responds automatically. But then again it hammers home the fact that there is a programming, and the person inside.
Also after several interruptions me as the reader wanted to shout at Cernunnos to shut the fuck up and let her cook.
But not sure how reliable her account is? Maybe in the heat of battle she was just feeling like she was slaying, when in actuality she came pretty close to danger.

The battle was dynamic and well paced. Good military Sci-Fi.

Some remarks I have, but since this is Sci-Fi most of it could be handwaved away. But in case you like that kind of discussion.

1. Most sci-fi ignores how exactly manouvering in space works, also how physics limits leaving a planet and re-entering. You wrote:

Kerberos's armor plates shifted subtly, reconfiguring for optimal aerodynamics. The heat shield deployed, a thin layer of reactive material spreading across the mech's forward surfaces. Then I hit the upper atmosphere at a precisely calculated angle, Kerberos's massive frame shuddering as she encountered resistance for the first time. Friction heated the heat shield to temperatures that would vaporize conventional metals, the glow surrounding me like a vengeful angel’s halo.

"optimal aerodynamics" could still be read different, but I think most would expect for Kerberos to streamline and cut through the atmosphere when reading that sentence. Capsules like Apollo or Artemis hit the atmoshpere with their blunt side, and on the Space Shuttle the heat shield is on the underside, so it enters atmosphere more or less belly forward. A blunt shape is better because air compresses in front of the ship and a lot of the heat will flow around the ship.
But maybe Kerberos was usung her thrusters to slow down, and not the atmosphere.
Very minor point.

2. You made a good point on why Kerberos is a superior fighting machine, but some things come to mind: The Manticore Units are classified as outdated. But I wonder if every technology has made a leap forward? Maybe the pilot-mech interfacing is that big leap, but the older units still have modern weaponry. Wouldn't tanks in the future not also have some amazing new stuff?
A mech is a very complex piece of machinery. For the ressources needed to build one you could probably also build a number of tanks with railguns on fast swivel turrets, high powered engines, maybe quick escape thrusters. Maybe even have a pilot operating the while tank battalion in conjunction with automated systems.

The mech seems like a very manouverable target, but could automated systems not fire all twenty guns in a wide spread to hit her no matter how quick she turns? What about Air-to-Air missiles oversaturating the defence?

3. Kerberos seems to have quite a lot of different systems, and a big arsenal of weapons, including missiles. But from the description she seems not that huge.
Coming back to the earlier question: A picture would help me a lot here

Looking forward to more.
Onward to Chapter 3

[John_F_Drake]

I only know Gundam and Evangelion on a very surface level, and almost nothing about Armored Core.

Is it possible for you to point me towards a picture of a mech similar to a Fenrir-Class?
You mentioned four legs, and Fenrir, Kerberos and Hound 91 imply something canine, but then again other descriptions make me think of something more humanoid.
Pretty certain Kerberos is among the sleeker type of mechs, not like Battletech or Warhammer

(Btw. your descriptions of the Pilot-Mech interfacing could also work pretty well for a Warhammer 40k Titan)

The best art I have done of it so far is here - https://www.johndrakeauthor.com/gallery ... /cry-havoc

I have now read up to the end of Chapter 2. I really do like your writing style, and the way you handled the combat scene.

Thanks... I wanted to have some fun. It was a bit of an indulgence in a story like this, but it was a blast to do.

1. Most sci-fi ignores how exactly manouvering in space works, also how physics limits leaving a planet and re-entering... yada yada... "optimal aerodynamics" could still be read different, but I think most would expect for Kerberos to streamline and cut through the atmosphere when reading that sentence. Capsules like Apollo or Artemis hit the atmoshpere with their blunt side, and on the Space Shuttle the heat shield is on the underside, so it enters atmosphere more or less belly forward. A blunt shape is better because air compresses in front of the ship and a lot of the heat will flow around the ship.
But maybe Kerberos was usung her thrusters to slow down, and not the atmosphere.

It wasn't super important to the story, but yeah, the idea was mostly engine-breaking, because they were coming in hot at G-forces that should liquify a person without aid.

2. You made a good point on why Kerberos is a superior fighting machine, but some things come to mind: The Manticore Units are classified as outdated. But I wonder if every technology has made a leap forward? Maybe the pilot-mech interfacing is that big leap, but the older units still have modern weaponry. Wouldn't tanks in the future not also have some amazing new stuff?
A mech is a very complex piece of machinery. For the ressources needed to build one you could probably also build a number of tanks with railguns on fast swivel turrets, high powered engines, maybe quick escape thrusters. Maybe even have a pilot operating the while tank battalion in conjunction with automated systems. The mech seems like a very manouverable target, but could automated systems not fire all twenty guns in a wide spread to hit her no matter how quick she turns? What about Air-to-Air missiles oversaturating the defence?

This actually comes up more later in the story. This is kinda an introductory fight, so you understand how the mech works on a battle level before more complicated fights happen.

Short version... yes. The "tank" and "VTOL" analogs here have weapons that are every bit as dangerous as you can put on a mech. A mech is just faster, more manuerverable, and better at delivering those weapons, largely because of the augmented pilot. An AI drone could do it as well... sort of. You'll have to read on for that. Chapter 2 gives a bit of a hint of what's to come for that, since we are introduced to the A.E.G.I.S. so extremely fast-moving, fast-processing autonomous weapons do exist as well.

But they aren't flawless. Later chapters cover this more.

3. Kerberos seems to have quite a lot of different systems, and a big arsenal of weapons, including missiles. But from the description she seems not that huge.
Coming back to the earlier question: A picture would help me a lot here.

I hope the picture helps. The missile pods are ejectable; it doesn't have much in the way of missiles. The railguns and cutting blade are its primary weapons.

[AdmiralPiet]

@John_F_Drake
Yes, the picture helps a lot. I had imagined several different types of mech, a few came close.
Not the greatest fan of this kind of mech aesthetic, but that is secondary to the story