บท 42: The conquest of dogcity

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"A long week," I said as I stirred the pot of soup, the simple but comforting aroma filling the air.

"Too long..." replied Cato, taking a swig from his canteen. "These profligates are more trouble than they seem. Every corner has a dog lurking, and every window has a damn sniper waiting."

"Don't even mention it, Centurion," Drusus chimed in as he cleaned his machine gun. "Today, they tried to ambush my men twice. But of course, they don't have weapons strong enough to penetrate our power armor. Their attempts were clumsy, just adding more bodies to the pile."

We had been fighting for control of Dog City for a week now, a hostile and savage terrain that the Hangdogs fiercely defended. We had secured one of the skyscrapers, using its height to set up a fixed camp. From there, our snipers could dominate several streets, firing at any enemy patrol foolish enough to cross.

Still, progress was slow. Every meter gained cost us time and effort. The Hangdogs knew their city well, every alley, every ruin. Their dogs were a constant problem, attacking unpredictably, and while our power armor protected us from their charges, we couldn't underestimate the number of enemies lurking in every corner.

"The dogs… those damned dogs are the worst," I muttered. "They slow us down at every step. Sometimes it feels like there are more of them than Hangdogs."

Cato nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "The worst part is if you kill one, two more take its place. These bastards don't give up easily."

"Anyone want some?" I asked as I ladled the hot soup into metal bowls.

Cato raised his hand without hesitation. "I do, Centurion. After a day like this, anything warm is a luxury."

Drusus approached, still tending to his machine gun. "Give me some, since you insist. I never turn down a meal when it's available."

The other legionaries silently gathered, taking their bowls with trembling hands from exhaustion. Their faces bore the weariness accumulated over the last week of fighting, but they knew the true hell was still to come.

The sound of wind through the ruins of Dog City was the only accompaniment as we ate the soup. On the horizon, the silhouette of other broken skyscrapers reminded us how far we were from securing the city entirely.

We continued discussing the zones we needed to secure the next day. Every street, every corner represented a challenge and a new opportunity for the Hangdogs to try and stop us. But we knew our advance, though slow, was unstoppable.

"We'll move through the northern sector," I said, pointing at an old, worn-out map we had found in one of the buildings. "It's the best option to cut off the remaining supply routes."

Cato nodded. "It's tricky terrain, lots of collapsed structures, but once we take it, it'll be easier to push toward the center."

"Watch out for ambushes," added Drusus. "These dogs are always waiting for us to let our guard down."

With the plans set, we decided it was best to rest. Tomorrow would bring another day of fighting in the ruins of Dog City, and though we knew the enemy wouldn't give us any respite, we had no intention of giving them any either.

I made sure the sentries were in place before lying down. The cold concrete was nothing new, but after so many days of battle, it felt heavier than ever. I closed my eyes, knowing that the next day would be another test of endurance.

The following days became a relentless cycle of urban violence. We moved close to the walls, our bodies protected by power armor, but always alert for the gunfire that came from any window or corner. The Hangdog snipers were persistent, but our advance never stopped. We used flamethrowers with brutal efficiency, burning packs of dogs lurking in the streets or hiding in the ruined buildings.

The fighting was relentless. When we encountered a fortified position on the upper floors, we didn't hesitate to use explosives to bring the building down, burying the defenders under the rubble. Every corner, every floor taken, was a small victory in our campaign to take Dog City, but the toll was evident on my men's faces. Yet morale remained high; they knew each day of progress brought us closer to victory.

When the rest of the Legion arrived to reinforce us, our offensive pace increased. The cohorts deployed to the cleared areas, ensuring the Hangdogs couldn't regroup or escape. However, Lanius kept us, the vanguard, at the front lines. We were the only ones with power armor, and our task was clear: lead the charge, minimize casualties, and break through the toughest enemy defenses.

The situation in Dog City was constant chaos, and the street battles grew fiercer by the day. In the midst of these skirmishes, one of Lanius's centurions launched a direct attack on a residential zone that, according to frumentarii intelligence, housed a large concentration of Hangdogs.

At first, the attack was devastating for the defenders. The legionaries advanced quickly, smashing through initial defenses and capturing key positions within the residential area. The Hangdogs, caught off guard, seemed to lose control. But what the legionaries didn't know was that they had walked into a carefully prepared trap.

Hundreds of dogs, kept in cages and pens around the area, were suddenly released. A flood of rabid animals, trained specifically to attack, swarmed the streets. Their howls and barks echoed like thunder as the pack descended upon the legionaries, who, at first, were bewildered by the ferocity of the onslaught.

The centurion leading the attack, confident from the initial success, was quickly surrounded. The legionaries, trapped between the beasts and the Hangdog warriors, began to lose ground. The dogs pounced on them, tearing limbs and breaking the lines. The situation was becoming desperate.

Fortunately, more legionaries were nearby. Hearing the screams and gunfire, they realized something had gone terribly wrong. Led by a group of veterans in power armor, they rushed to the combat zone. Flamethrowers, previously reserved for clearing buildings, became vital tools against the packs of dogs. Tongues of fire swept through the streets, incinerating the animals and creating a wall that prevented more Hangdogs from attacking.

The reinforcements not only saved the centurion and his cohort, but with a more coordinated tactic, they managed to stabilize the situation. The fighting continued for hours as the Legion forces reorganized and regained control of the area, clearing out each building that had not been secured before the initial attack. The Hangdogs who still resisted were hunted down one by one, their numbers dwindling significantly.

Another week passed, and slowly but surely, the Legion began taking control of most of the southern sector of Dog City. The advance was methodical, and although the Hangdogs fought fiercely, the tactical superiority of the Legion began to tip the scales in our favor.

Taking advantage of the fact that the Hangdogs were increasingly retreating into the central parts of the city, Lanius made a decisive strategic move. "We will encircle the city," he ordered, his voice implacable. "We will cut off all supply lines. They will not reinforce their defenses, nor receive food or weapons. We will starve them until they have no choice but to surrender or die."

With that order, the Legion quickly deployed. Lanius' forces, trained to move with precision, began to establish a blockade around the city. Every road, every path that could serve as an escape route or entry point was blocked. No one entered, and no one left. The Hangdogs were trapped.

Meanwhile, within the city, our advance, although slow, was unstoppable. Each day we took a new street, a new building, and the Hangdogs were forced to retreat further and further into the heart of Dog City. Skirmishes were constant, with rabid dogs and snipers from windows still posing a threat, but every battle whittled down the Hangdogs' forces.

Our progress remained steady, though the pace was slow and calculated. The Hangdogs, now fully aware that they were surrounded, focused most of their efforts on attempting to break through the siege we had established around the city. However, their attempts were in vain. The trenches we had dug, following the pattern of our previous defenses, along with strategically positioned machine gun nests, made them pay dearly for every attempt to escape.

Another week of intense urban combat, and the defenses of the Hangdogs were collapsing, this time with much greater speed. They no longer had the luxury of returning fire, and their resources were visibly depleted. They had run out of ammunition, forcing them into desperate attacks, launching waves of warriors and dogs against our positions. Each passing day saw their situation worsen, and their organization crumble.

From the heights of a skyscraper we had converted into our observation post, I watched the Legion's advance. The streets of Dog City were littered with debris, bodies of dogs, and Hangdogs lying where they had fallen, while the buildings continued to be the scene of close-quarters fighting. My legionaries, with their superior training and equipment, advanced relentlessly, taking buildings one by one and crushing any resistance they encountered.

As I led my men toward the area with the highest concentration of skyscrapers, where we had been observing the movement of most of the population, I prepared for the final assault. We knew the heart of Dog City was near, and once it fell, everything would be over.

Just as we were about to launch our attack, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the streets. One of the profligates, who seemed to have completely lost his mind, climbed atop an improvised barricade and began shouting, his voice echoing like a cry between the buildings.

"This city is mine! MINE! I AM THE ALPHA OF MY PACK! I conquered it, it's mine!" he screamed furiously, waving his arms like a madman, while the rest of his men watched.

I paused, watching the madman who claimed the city as his own. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked more like a rabid dog than a leader. The desperation in his voice said it all: they knew they had lost, and now this "alpha" was making one last attempt to maintain what little control he had left over his forces.

I approached the tribal, machete in hand, watching as his bloodshot eyes locked onto mine. The lunatic had sharpened his teeth, giving him a bestial appearance, as if he truly believed he was an animal. A pathetic attempt to instill fear.

"You... tin can... this city is mine, only mine!" he growled, and before I could respond, the idiot lunged at me, trying to bite and attack me with his knife.

With a swift movement, I blocked his attack with my arm covered by the power armor, causing the knife to bounce harmlessly off the reinforced metal. His blind fury prevented him from seeing the inevitable.

I grabbed his arm with the brutal strength of the power armor, hearing the crunch of his bones as the servos applied enough pressure to break it. The scream he let out was brief, cut short when I flung him to the ground with a simple motion. He barely had time to process the pain before my machete descended swiftly, slicing through his neck with a single, clean stroke.

Blood splattered onto the ground as the body collapsed, lifeless. The air, thick with the battle's intensity, was filled with the sound of metal clashing against concrete and the distant screams of the few remaining Hangdogs still resisting.

I stood upright, cleaning the machete with a firm motion, looking at my men. "One less. Let's keep moving."

But after killing this tribal, the entire tribe fell silent.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.