Shattered

George

Looks like I'm not getting a "#1 Dad" mug this year either, George thought with a grimace as he slammed his arm against his daughter's back, knocking her off her feet. To be fair though he did it to protect her, as if he wouldn't have knocked her to the ground, the sports car sized wolf would have snatched her up in its massive jaws. As the mutt that G:AD summoned leapt past them, he swung his other arm around and pulled the trigger of the railgun in hand. Through the combination of his Titan heart and the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping through his system, he could see the small cylinder fire from the barrel and impact the creature's flank; momentarily cratering its flesh before rocketing out the other side taking half the beast with it.

"Geez dad, a simple "duck" would have worked just fine," PB grumbled, hopping to her feet and retrieving her bow. "I'm not a little girl," she pouted.

"Daddy knows that, but I'm having a hard time processing that," he said, before once again adjusting the charge dial on the railgun in his right hand with his teeth. It was definitely a great antimaterial weapon, blowing anything and everything to kingdom come, but it was meant to be a delivery device. If he wanted to rid the world of G:AD, then the cylinders needed to embed themselves in its flesh for his plan to succeed. "I'm also willing to wager you don't want a dollhouse anymore, do you?" he asked with a heavy heart.

PB fired two arrows simultaneously from her bow, forcing one of the hounds to alter its course; saving the lives of two of his men and several of the girls. "You remembered?" she asked, eyes still focused on her target, but her voice hitched slightly.

"Baby girl that was all I thought about for years," he grunted, as he pulled the trigger of the railgun in his left hand, sending yet another cylinder through G:AD, this time taking out her right leg in an explosion of golden blood and gore. He frowned as he realized he was down to his last five shots. The giant dogs had been an unwelcome surprise, forcing him to deliver killing-blow after killing-blow to the multitude of beasts since they didn't want to risk exposing the girls to any signal based weaponry. Add to that the need to keep Artemis disabled at all time, and suddenly twenty-four control cylinders didn't seem like enough. "I know you wanted the Dream House, and I'll scavenge through eBay if you still want it, but I've made you one that makes the Dream House look like a trailer."

His daughter laughed and it was music to his ears. "I just can't see you building a dollhouse." She paused and fired off another barrage of arrows into the rear of a hound. "But then again, I never thought I'd see you with short hair. Or wearing a shirt that wasn't tie-dye. Or in pants that weren't missing their knees. Or holding a gun. Or-"

"Okay! I get it!" he laughed, blowing the dog PB had just peppered with arrows to little pieces.

"Or see you again...."

If it wasn't for the fact they were on an active battlefield, George would've pulled his daughter into a bearhug and assure her that he wasn't going to leave her ever again. Instead he gestured for them to fallback with the rest of his team near the helicopters, to assist them and the former hunters with finishing the last of the creatures off before focusing on Artemis. They both started to run, and he marveled at how his daughter effortlessly retrieved arrows from fallen bodies and stuck them in her quiver without breaking her stride. If there was one positive thing he could say about the so-called goddess of the hunt, it would be that she trained PB into a capable warrior with the skills needed to survive in a world he hardly recognized. He took the opportunity to adjust the charge on both of his weapons, PB offering ample cover to do so. Seventy Percent is still way to powerful, the damn things don't stop until they've gone through three trees... I'm definitely overestimating things, so why not lowball it and see what ten does?