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[h1] [color=aba000]The Wolfhound[/color] [/h1]
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Damn this place was a mess. The fighting was pushing further and further into the building. No doubt the freak lieutenants were acting as breakers and throwing NEST forces into disarray. Blood splattered the walls at seemingly random intervals with chunks of unidentified matter strewn around. A pair of gardening sheers pinned a dead agent to the wall. He’d probably never look at gardening tools the same way again. For all the carnage the trail was warm, it seemed like the queen freak was headed to the detention center. Probably trying to liberate one of their comrades. 

So close to the target it would be prudent to start wearing down the number of Fiends able to support their leaders. The Wolfhound slung his rifle onto his back with the launcher and drew his pistol. He swapped the rounds out for subsonic variants and screwed on a suppressor. Looking around he saw the sign pointing to the detention center. One floor up.

The Wolfhound picked his way over the bodies and climbed stairs two at a time. There was a pair of Fiends on the landing of his floor. With two coughing sounds the pair slumped. Not a lot of fanfare, good. Shit like this should die quietly. Stepping over the new entrees to Hades he sliced the pie into the hallway. He growled in frustration. A group of Fiends were clustered around a door just past his position. So much for the silent approach.

The Wolfhound pulled a concussion grenade off his vest. A lazy underhand throw around the corner carried it down the hall. He waited for the clink, [color=6ecff6]“what th”[/color] before pressing the button on his forearm. 
BANG
He approached the scene.

The moans of the few that survived with broken bones and impromptu amputations were cut short by the muted cough of the pistol. Standing in the middle of the carnage he slid the mag out of his pistol and returned it to it’s pouch. Replacing it with a new mag he racked the slide and slipped the safety back on, returned to its holster he un-slung the rifle. Not much work for a discrete weapon today it seemed.

He advanced, posture hunched and fully ready for a stand up sit down fight. He could practically taste his kill nearby. He left a broken hallway with flickering lights and mixed scorch marks with blood in his wake.

Turning a corner the hallway opened out into a larger area in front of the DC. The NEST forces here were done, their hasty barricades between the pillars were smoldering wreaks. Flames licked the walls and corpses littered the floor some reduced to little more than a pulpy mass. The Fiends were decimated here other than a small group heading toward the DC’s fortified door. They turned surprised at the unusual armored newcomer.

“[color=aba000]Shit[/color]”. One of the female Fiends was Burnmark and another was Khan. BUT WHICH WAS FUCKING WHICH. One of them screamed a warning and the group wheeled to face him, debris starting to raise into the air and mist forming and swirling around the group. “[color=aba000]FUCKIT[/color]”. The Wolfhound raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger. Two deadly rounds ripped the air apart to reach their target and a gout of blood and bone and muscle tore from one of the woman’s back. 

The debris dropped to the floor immediately.“[color=aba000]Shit[/color]”. Khan screamed an insult and dove behind a pillar firing off a round from her launcher. The wolfhound likewise leapt behind a pillar as the 40mm grenade struck the ceiling, raining assorted crap into the room.

The Wolfhound’s blood ran thick with adrenaline, face locked in a slasher smile he barked out “[color=aba000]KHAN YOU BITCH YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD, YOU JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET[/color].”

The smoke and dust swirled and swept past with the settling rubble. If war is a symphony then this was a duet.