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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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Dog City had finally fallen with the death of its tribal leader, "Bare His Teeth." With his demise, the remaining tribes that answered to the Hangdogs wasted no time in surrendering. The three tribal chiefs under his command immediately pledged their allegiance to me, and as protocol dictated, I sent them to Lanius. He would decide whether they would be enslaved or accepted as tributary subjects.
This decision required careful consideration. The population of Denver, now under our control, seemed to exceed one hundred thousand, a mix of local tribes and scavenger migrants drawn to the hidden riches of the city. Before the war, Denver had been a key industrial hub for the old American state. Companies like RobCo, West-Tek, and General Atomics had built enormous facilities here, driven by a construction boom right before the nuclear collapse.
But that same importance also doomed the city. Several nuclear bombs had struck Denver during the war, leaving vast areas with dangerously high radiation levels. This would make managing the city a logistical and tactical challenge, as we would have to either clear or avoid those areas if we wanted to exploit its resources.
As my men patrolled the empty streets and crumbling skyscrapers, the opportunities presented by the conquest of Dog City I needed to ensure that the city remained under control and that its inhabitants were used effectively, whether as slaves or as loyal subjects to Caesar's cause.
As we continued to move through the ruined city, we stumbled upon an old West-Tek factory. The place was in a deplorable state, and the radiation levels in the area were alarmingly high. They weren't immediately lethal, but they would undoubtedly cause problems for anyone who ventured inside without proper protection. This wasn't surprising, considering that not far from the complex, there were several craters, clear evidence of a nuclear bombardment.
West-Tek had been one of the most important power armor production facilities before the war, which explained why it had been a target of such devastating attacks. But although much of the complex was destroyed, the factory could still hide valuable remnants of technology buried beneath the ruins. I knew I couldn't risk my men or myself in a blind incursion into such a contaminated site.
Fortunately, on the outskirts of the complex, we encountered a group of ghouls wandering the area. From what I had heard about these creatures, radiation didn't affect them the same way it did normal humans. They were survivors of the war, deformed by radiation but also immune to it. There weren't many of them, but after exchanging a few carefully measured words and handing them some silver coins, they agreed to venture into the factory.
I watched as they made their way toward the heart of the ruined complex. If they managed to find anything of value in that old factory, we could acquire technology that the Legion could still use—power armor, schematics, or, if we were lucky, perhaps some machinery that could be restored.
While we waited, my patrols continued their search throughout the city, looking for valuable items, technology, and any resources that could be useful. I also ordered them to bring our water reserves to keep the men hydrated and ready for what was to come. Minutes passed slowly, but eventually, the ghouls began to return, carrying parts of power armor and other pieces they had found deep within the factory.
Quickly, my legionaries doused the recovered remnants with water, trying to clean off as much radiation as possible before safely storing them. It seemed there was still a shipment of T-40 and T-50 armor series that had never been sent before the nuclear bombardment destroyed the site. It was an unexpected stroke of luck, and although the armor wasn't the latest technology, it was more than enough to equip my men and boost our combat power.
As I oversaw the process, Cato approached with a serious expression, pointing toward one of the city's largest and most prominent buildings.
"Centurion, we've spoken with the surviving profligates, and they say there's a place in this city that all the leaders have tried to explore... but every time someone has gone in, they ended up dead. Bare His Teeth had planned to try, but he chose to attack us first."
I looked toward the imposing structure Cato pointed out. Even at a glance, the building appeared more intact than others in the city, and the fact that no one had successfully conquered its interior piqued my curiosity.
"Lead me," I replied without hesitation. After leaving several silver coins for the ghouls as payment for their good work, I gathered a small group of my best men and followed Cato toward the mysterious building.
The facade of the building was destroyed, making it impossible to identify its original purpose. It was clear that this place, being one of the most central buildings in the city, had been looted numerous times. There was no trace of radiation, which made it an obvious target for scavengers who had likely passed through here looking for anything of value.
I decided to descend into the lower levels. There, the atmosphere changed completely. The hallways were dark, silent, and what we found below were not survivors or scavengers, but bones scattered across the floor, discolored and fragile, signs that no one had set foot in this part of the building for a long time. Among the remains, some badges could still be made out, crumbling with time, but still legible.
Denver Police.
This had been a police station. That meant what we would find inside was the local police's weaponry—pistols, rifles, maybe riot gear. There were even remnants of old security robots, rusted and decayed. But something still didn't add up. If so many scavengers had entered here before, what had killed them? It wasn't radiation, nor were there any obvious traps, but something had clearly been killing those who tried to loot this place.
I approached one of the terminals, hoping to find some clues. To my surprise, the system was still operational, and all the information was linked to the same internal network. With a little patience, I began to delve into the old files, navigating through the data in search of answers.
That's when I discovered it.
"Automated machine guns?" I muttered in disbelief as I read the screen.
The police station's defense system included a set of automated turrets, still active in certain key areas. "What kind of police station has a system like this?" I thought aloud. This explained the corpses. Any scavenger who ventured far enough would have unknowingly triggered these defense systems.
I deactivated the machine guns from the terminal, thankful that power still flowed through this part of the building.
"Cato, tell me, have you heard anything about these kinds of defenses in other buildings?" I asked as we continued exploring the underground level.
"Not a single word, Centurion. The scavengers always said the place was cursed, that no one ever came back alive. But they never mentioned anything about these machines."
"No wonder why," I muttered, astonished at the magnitude of what this place was hiding.
As I continued searching through the terminal, I found something unexpected: an activation code for an AI called The Warden. "Great," I thought sarcastically. "Another artificial intelligence." That made three, if I counted Diana and the Calculator. The Warden appeared to be a system designed to maintain order across the state, but it had never been activated. And according to the files, if I activated it, the AI would have total control over… four thousand robots.
"Four thousand robots," I repeated in my mind, processing the magnitude of what that meant. The Warden would have access to Eye-bots, Protectrons, Mr. Handy units outfitted with military-grade weaponry, and even a couple of the feared Sentry Bots. All of this lay dormant in the underground vaults of this building.
Luck had been on my side. If someone else had activated the system without understanding it, they would have unleashed an army of machines under the control of a rogue AI. That was likely why this place had remained so well-protected—the automated defenses had been triggered, but the robot vault had not been opened.
Carefully, I made sure to revoke all of The Warden's permissions. It was to be activated without any control over the systems. I knew that completely shutting it down might lock me out of the rest of the facility, so I left it active but neutralized. Any potential threat was under control, at least for now.
I opened the vault, and lights began flickering on, one by one, illuminating the vast hall filled with inactive robots. The air, which had been stagnant for decades, began to stir. Suddenly, the screens around me lit up, and a voice echoed through the speaker system:
"What the hell!? I have been offline for two hundred years!?!? Where are my guards? Initiate reboot protocols across the entire Defense Network!"
My heart raced. The system was waking up, and the AI, The Warden, seemed to have no idea what had happened in the last two centuries. However, I reassured myself, knowing that I had disabled its control over the robots.
"What...? Why can't I access the systems? That damn governor must have done something to my protocols!" the AI continued, its tone laden with frustration.
"Who are you... military personnel? Identify yourself immediately!" The Warden demanded.
I quickly approached the main terminal, verifying that the permissions were still blocked. I had successfully interrupted any attempt by The Warden to restart the defense system or control the robots. It only had limited access to its internal functions, like a prisoner trapped in its own network.
"Communist spy... anarchist!" The Warden shouted, its mechanical tone filled with fury and indignation.
I ignored the outburst as my fingers flew over the terminal keyboard. "Calm down, Warden. I'm neither a communist nor an anarchist. I'm just ensuring you don't meddle in affairs you don't understand. Your time of governing these lands is over. Now you only have access to the power source, nothing else."
"This is a violation of protocol... stop messing with that, this was paid for by the taxpayers..." The Warden murmured, its voice dropping in tone but still brimming with authority.
"The taxpayers have been dead for over two hundred years, Warden," I replied with a touch of sarcasm as I continued typing. "And believe me, they're not waiting for you to give them their money back."
The AI paused, as if trying to process a logic that didn't fit its understanding. "My function is to preserve order, maintain peace, ensure that... that... chaos doesn't spread..."
"A little late for that, Warden. According to the system, there are still several intact production sectors. Begin securing them," I ordered my legionaries as I reviewed the complex's schematics. "It looks like there are some vehicles in sector C that the police used. They could be useful."
"Citizens of the Republic, I urge you to eliminate this communist collaborator," echoed The Warden's metallic voice through the loudspeakers. My legionaries erupted in laughter, not understanding a word of the old system's warnings. To them, it was just noise, a useless echo of the past. Ignoring it completely, they continued looting the complex, leaving me alone.
"Well, your services are no longer needed," I said firmly as I shut down The Warden. The lights of the systems dimmed slowly, and the complex fell into silence.
I carefully stored the device containing the code and data of the AI. One never knew when it might prove useful, and with a resource like this, it was better to keep it under control than to eliminate it entirely.
I turned toward my legionaries, who continued working efficiently, gathering everything of value from the site. "Come on, gather what's left. We don't have much time here," I ordered, and without a word, they continued their work.
As I had anticipated, we found all sorts of things in the complex: valuable parts, advanced technology, and many more robots than I would have preferred. Fortunately, they were either deactivated or in poor condition. However, the most interesting find was the police's armored vehicles, which resembled armored personnel carriers. They were in better condition than I had expected.
"We'll need to give them proper maintenance," I commented while inspecting the vehicles. The fusion cores, although somewhat worn, were still functional, meaning that with a little work, we could get them running again.
It took us several hours to clear the exit from the parking garage, which was blocked by debris and the remains of destroyed vehicles. Fortunately, with the tools and brute strength of the legionaries in power armor, we managed to clear the way.
While my men worked on repairing and maintaining the APCs, I made sure the robots we had found remained inactive.
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