Title: The Good Boy // Code Name: H0UND-9
PROLOGUE — THE CITY WITH NO MOON

Neo-Eden.
A city of light without warmth. Towers that scrape the sky, casting no shadow because there’s nothing left pure enough to block the glow.

They say dogs went extinct decades ago — too dirty, too loyal for a sterile world.

But they were wrong.

One still walks among the neon.
A lab creation from the Bureau of Bio-Security — the last of the H0UND line.
Part wolf, part soldier, part something else entirely.

He was bred for obedience.
Trained for infiltration.
Engineered to smell guilt, fear, and lies.

His name is H0UND-9.
The city calls him The Good Boy.
But he knows better.

He’s not here to protect.
He’s here to hunt.

CHAPTER ONE — BENEATH THE ELECTRIC SKY

The night bleeds violet as rain cuts through the smog.
H0UND moves like smoke — muscle under fur, eyes glinting amber and intelligence.

His orders pulse through an implant in his ear:

“Target: The Bone Syndicate.
Objective: Identify the crime boss known as ‘Father.’
Do not get attached.”

He’s good at not getting attached.
Or at least, he used to be.

Down in the slums, he blends in with the strays — the broken clones, the discarded prototypes. They smell like rust and sadness.
They still wag their tails when someone passes.

He wishes he could forget how to do that.

CHAPTER TWO — THE BONE SYNDICATE

He finds them beneath the city — men and women who wear the scent of regret like perfume. Their trade isn’t drugs or guns. It’s biomemory.

They steal childhoods — splice laughter, sell nostalgia, carve innocence into black-market syringes.

And at the top of it all sits Father, a man no one’s seen twice and lived.

H0UND earns their trust the only way he knows how — through loyalty. Through the illusion of devotion.
He guards the shipments.
He sniffs out traitors.
He kills when he must.

But every time he does, his heart — engineered to beat steady under stress — trembles.

He remembers soft hands. A voice saying “Good boy.”
He remembers sunlight. Grass.
He remembers what he was made to protect.

CHAPTER THREE — THE SMELL OF TRUTH

Weeks pass. He’s deeper than any agent before him.
He starts to see things the Bureau never told him.

The Syndicate isn’t running from justice — they’re running for it.

Father’s not a crime boss. He’s a defector from the Bureau — the same man who made H0UND’s line.
He’s been rescuing failed experiments, freeing the other enhanced animals, hiding them from the labs that would burn them alive for being “obsolete.”

When H0UND realizes this, something inside him fractures — a genetic lock, a chain of obedience that was supposed to hold him forever.

He finds Father one night, standing beneath a broken billboard of a family and their smiling dog.

“You smell like him,” H0UND growls.
Father smiles. “Because I built you to feel.”

H0UND’s hackles rise. “You built me to obey.”
“Same thing, once upon a time.”

CHAPTER FOUR — THE LEAP

The Bureau comes that night — drones, soldiers, cleansing fire.

They call it a “containment sweep.”
Father calls it what it is: murder.

The other hounds — the broken, forgotten — scatter. H0UND stays.

He fights.
Claws flash. Blood sprays. He takes bullets meant for others. He tears through men who once gave him orders.

When Father falls, bleeding and laughing, H0UND drags him through the wreckage toward the old tunnels.

Father coughs. “They’ll keep making you. Better ones. Ones without hearts.”

H0UND nudges him gently. “Then I’ll keep breaking them.”

The Bureau drones lock on. Light floods the tunnel.
He leaps — into darkness, into myth.

EPILOGUE — STRAY SIGNAL

Months later, the city whispers again.

Children in the lower sectors say a giant black dog walks the night.
He steals food from the rich. He guards the forgotten. He howls when it rains, as if mourning something only he can smell.

And when the streetlights flicker, for just a second —
you can hear it.

A voice, deep and warm, carried through the static rain:

“Good boy.”

And somewhere in the shadows, H0UND-9 lifts his head —
and smiles.

H0UND-9 — The Good Boy.
End of File.
Or perhaps… loyalty never truly dies.