*boots,- boots,- boots,- boots,- marching up and down again *

The mangy hound was born before the forever war gripped the East Coast. He never thought the battle would reach here. That was 40 years ago as he gripped his USAS-12 Shotgun. He was always frightened by the waves of cannibalistic cyborgs that were occasionally airdropped by the corpse bombers eternally hovering above.

*There is no Discharge In the war*

Standing next to him is one of his "ally's," a Gunhead unit that has been in operation for 467,000 hours and counting. The old hound can't comprehend why it hasn't it turned on there kind years ago, as it was once a tool to build the Europa super states during the suspension of many constitutions and amendments, squashing civil unrest, committing all sorts of unpleasant acts of torture and murder without flinching along the way. The old hound doesn't ask

*Don't,- don't,- don't,- don't,- look at what's in front of you*

Right now is one of those rare days to do a run on the surface he hasn't seen the sun in months now or what's left of it anyway, as the sky was long choked up by smog. With the help of his cybernetic implants, the hound scanned the dark surface of elephant mausoleum a lucrative battlefield despite being one of the most deadly.

*Boots,- Boots,- boots,- boots,- movin up and down again*

the scavs mission is to find a lost data cache that contained "valuable data that could change the course of this war" The old hound doubted the Naive Europan consulate; however, those silly questions about the war went away when the consulate promised hefty credits and bonus power cells on top of that in exchange for that intel.

*men,- men,- men,- men,- go mad with watchin em There's no discharge in the war *

The old hound stopped questioning the point of the war; he stopped questioning when it will stop or when he'll die himself. That curiosity died when he claimed his 17th kill and stopped counting after that. He was no soldier, just a civilian with a gun a scavenger he told himself, a mantra that he repeated to himself in his head if those soldiers had a chance, they'd drop me too like nothing. But even deeper down, he knew that he would eventually be no different then the Gunhead unit the more he relied on the war machine for survival like everyone else.

*Count,- count,- count,- count,- the bullets in the bandoliers if- your- eyes- drop they will get atop of you! *

REMOVE MY SAFETY. The Gunhead Unit udder'd as a squad of six Europa soldiers and one EOD were approaching their position, and without thinking, the old hound nodded his head at the Gunhead as they emptied there magazine's towards the approaching march of boots.

*boots,- boots,- boots,- boots,- up and down again there no discharge in the war *


hears another gift for my man  Flogandhark for playing Forever Winter with me. It's a really fun game, especially when played with others, the only downside is that it's really punishing on me and my system, so the gameplay is more of a journey. Plus, this is the first cyberpunk drawing I uploaded here dispite me being obsessed with cyberpunk in a long time ago might aswell do more cyberpunk stuff from my favourite games.