"Mister Kurt Hansen."
As the vehicle cruised through the streets of Dogtown, Karl, who had been quietly watching the outside world through the Crystal Ball system, suddenly turned to Hansen and asked an unexpected question:
"What's war like?"
"What's war like?"
Hansen repeated the question, his hands steady on the wheel, but his voice tinged with confusion.
"Why ask something like that out of the blue?"
Karl replied frankly, "Well, I've got a veteran sitting next to me, and nothing better to do. Figured I'd ask. I've never actually experienced war myself."
"Sounds like a rookie's question," Hansen scoffed.
"If one of my Phantom Dogs pups asked me something like that, I'd drill them so hard they'd never ask it again."
"Why's that?"
"Because 'war' isn't some casual word you toss around."
Hansen kept his eyes on the road, his tone cold.
"All the filth, the worst kinds of malice—and sometimes even kindness—you can imagine, you'll find in war. It's the kind of disgusting mess that once you've been through it, you'll never want to see it again. Just remembering it makes me sick."
"Even for a decorated colonel?"
"Even for a so-called traitor to the New United States."
Hansen seemed to grasp what Karl was really getting at.
"You're wondering what a war-torn place like Dogtown becomes under the rule of someone who's lived through it, huh? So, what's your impression of the streets?"
Karl shrugged slightly.
"It's not exactly desolate, but it's not thriving either. Compared to the city, I'd say... maybe Dogtown really lives up to its reputation—shoot first, ask never."
He gestured toward a group of doped-up locals who'd started casually exchanging gunfire across the street.
"But still better than Los Angeles."
"Los Angeles, huh… sounds like those clowns are still running their little recruitment experiments."
Hansen, being ex-New USA, knew a fair bit about the nation's internal affairs. Hearing Karl compare Dogtown to L.A. made him feel insulted—as if his governance had been questioned.
"More than half my men come straight out of Dogtown. And every mutt that joins the Phantom Dogs brings pride to their family. That's not something you'll find in those sorry excuses for soldiers back in L.A."
"Fair enough," Karl said, eyes forward again.
"Though those idiots might be trying to turn Dogtown into the next L.A. as we speak."
"Not unless they take me out first."
Hansen's eyes locked onto something up ahead—a projectile trailing smoke, headed straight for them.
The bait had finally hooked the fish.
With a quick kick, Karl shoved open the not-quite-closed car door and rolled out in full Phantom Dogs gear. Just before bailing, he glanced at Hansen—who had already nimbly leapt out himself.
A capable client. Always a plus.
As they rolled to safety, nearby support vehicles unloaded their passengers. Everyone moved with trained precision, quickly scattering to take cover. And by the time the smoke-trailing rocket hit, the spot it was aiming for was empty.
BOOM!
The explosion marked the opening act. As the armored vehicle launched into the air, Karl was already gripping his Ajax kinetic assault rifle.
It was the Phantom Dogs' green-painted version, but functionally the same as the Militech-standard Ajax. As he opened fire on the spot the rocket had come from, the gun felt just like the ones he used back in his NCPD support days.
Karl didn't bother controlling the recoil. He didn't yet know if the attackers were the rogue Militech squad, so he simply responded the way a well-trained Phantom Dog soldier would. That alone was enough to get him noticed.
Behind him, the rookies—Phantom Dogs who'd only survived because they'd been yanked from their vehicles—began opening fire too, blindly shooting toward the direction of the attack. But the assailants quickly spotted the difference in experience and zeroed in on the real threats.
ZING—
CRACK!
A bullet whizzed past Karl and struck the ground behind him, shattering concrete. But he'd already caught the angle with his peripheral vision and figured out the shooter's position.
He spun, aimed, and unleashed a spray of bullets at a spot over a hundred meters away—but saw no one.
So they fired and immediately moved.
Bad news: These guys were pros. They knew how to handle urban combat.
Good news: They weren't wearing heavy armor. Otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered dodging Ajax fire at this range.
Karl's eyes darted toward Hansen's position. The man was crouched behind a vehicle, using it as cover while firing at unknown targets.
Karl sprinted, dodged another bullet aimed at his torso, and slid into cover beside Hansen.
"You call for backup?"
"Of course," Hansen replied, swapping out mags.
"ID'd the attackers yet?"
"No. So far, everything could fall under standard gang hit. Can't say for sure if it's the Militech rogues. Haven't seen any of the stolen Riot Response gear either—"
Buzz...
A low mechanical hum cut him off—heavy, rapid steps closing in fast.
That sound...
"Guess that confirms it," Karl muttered.
He tossed aside his Ajax.
"These bastards have some serious balls."
He tore off his uncomfortable helmet.
"They're actually using exosuits—the kind only elite Riot Response units can even operate."
-
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