My GPU caught fire right when I was about to start replaying titanfall. Fuck my stupid mutt life

"Do you understand the label? Why you are a Hound, specifically, and not say, a dog?" asked the Handler. "No," it responds promptly. It has never once contemplated questioning why its Handler calls it that. Handler is beyond reproach. What they say is divine mandate. "Should I?" "Dogs are amazing creatures. Lovable, loyal to a fault, a part of the family. They were once dangerous predators that gradually became defanged and declawed, so to speak. Domesticated. Tame. Placid." "Useless," the Hound finished, comprehending the point. "To me, yes. I have no need for a dog. A Hound is not part of the family. It is a tool. It is clay to be molded. Almost like a puppy." "I'm... Like a puppy?" it asked, confused. "Puppies need a great deal of care, guidance and nurturing love to grow into the dogs we need them to be, and Hounds are not dissimilar, but the comparisons end there. You are not something to be adored, you do not deserve to be doted upon. You exist for my convenience, for my means alone. You will not grow up to comfort children. You will not protect the family. You will kill for me. You will bite and tear and howl and rip and kill at my whim." "I will!" the Hound affirmed with glowing pride and determination. "I know you will. Because hounds are dogs made into tools, raw material forged into weapons. They exist for that one singular purpose, to be dangerous to everything not holding its leash." The Hound's eyes drifted to its own leash, held tightly in its Handler's grasp. They wrapped it tighter around their fingers, pulling the Hound closer for emphasis. "Now, would you like to be let Off The Leash?"