A Dog and Her 12 Boys - Season One - GATELOCK PRIME

The shield was gone. Nerves raw. Thoughts naked. No veil. No mercy. The Necromancers didn’t descend the steps. They didn’t rush us. They didn’t need to. They were mountain and weather. They were pressure. They stayed at the altar, and the altar became a lever. The female rose first. Not a jump. A slow, patient float. Robes like oil. Bones like reeds under cloth. She circled the altar as if it were...

A Dog and Her 12 Boys season one. GATELOCK Prime – Episode 16: Zombie Liquid. The First Note. Boy Three moved first. Always did. I pulsed the formation through the lattice. Spread. Circle. Silence. The Necromancers continued their ritual, arms weaving deliberate patterns in the air above a tall, narrow altar between them. Male and female, orbiting one another with a slow, gliding step. Their feet...

Dog and Her 12 Boys. Seasoned one. GATELOCK prime. – Episode 15: The Overlook The sewer tunnel curved downward like a throat swallowing us whole. The artifact’s pulse had shifted, no longer the erratic ping of something hidden, but a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. Or maybe my heartbeat had matched it. Hard to tell anymore. Boy Six touched the wall as we descended. Stone. Carved stone. I...

A Dog and Her 12 Boys. Season one. GATELOCK prime. – episode 14: Zombie Liquid. The Cafeteria of the Damned.. Then we reached it. The cafeteria. Wide. Warm. Tiled with flesh-pink floors. Full of Humans. Or what was left. Hairless. Fat. Wearing plastic aprons soaked in blood. Eating. Bowls of zombie stew. Slices of gray meat stacked like pancakes. Sandwiches made with arm meat and spinal jelly. A f...

Trapped in a collapsing bone tunnel with her twelve boys, our canine protagonist faces their most desperate moment yet. The living bone walls close in, held back only by her psychic wedge—a shield of pure willpower that’s rapidly failing. After digging reveals nothing but endless bone, a new threat emerges: the walls begin emitting a devastating sonic hum that attacks their minds directly. Key Mom...

The hounds were done. River steamed. Cosmos’s hackles rose. Something armored waited ahead. Round Four: Armored skeleton sentinels. Full plate, swords raised. Boy Ten threw firebomb—orange hell. They kept walking, on fire, armor popping. Boy One cracked visors, smashed skulls. Boy Seven clubbed legs, stomped helmets flat. Boy Twelve kicked one into bubbling river—didn’t float. Ash fell like snow....

The drain shaft opened like a wound. Cosmos and the boys climbed down a bone ladder wet with spinal grease into a tunnel beneath the siphon hall. Not a sewer for shit—a channel for bone waste, nerve scrap, psychic ash. Walls pulsed white: skulls facing inward, femurs stacked like bricks, hands fused palm-to-palm across the ceiling. Air warm, sweet—fermented blood and soap. A yellow-silver-black ri...

The spiral stair leads down to a cathedral of bone and steel. Rows of spine-saw chairs hold bound corpses, tubes puncturing their spines to suck yellow-silver fluid into rivers that flow toward a dark trench. The smell hits first—fermented marrow and burned sugar. Cosmos sneezes. The boys gag. They kill the technicians fast. Then the floor tilts. Valves spin. The twin rivers surge across the hall,...

The artifact pulses below. Closer now. The Grinder Wing opens like a rotten lung—massive chamber full of hooks, gears, hydraulic presses. Corpses slide on overhead chains into spinning drums with steel-and-bone teeth. Some bodies still twitch. Some scream without lungs. Zombies shamble through the chaos. Guards in bone armor fight to control them. Cosmos throws a psychic shield and sends the boys...

The elevator doors open. A melting zombie runs past, skin dripping like wax, leaving trails of smoke. This isn’t a building. It’s a factory. And it doesn’t process food or tech—it processes zombies. Transparent tubes pulse with Z-NECTAR and GRAY SYRUP overhead. Conveyor belts carry body parts into coolers. Heads with tags. Legs hung like cured ham. Some zombies aren’t dead, just strapped into plas...

The blood has barely cooled when Cosmos senses it—something wrong in the room. Too big. Too quiet. Boss quiet. Buried beneath the corpse of the god they already killed lies a shielded artifact… a black ring box that eats thought. When Boy Three slips the ring on, the dungeon answers. The wall melts. Lava spills. And from the fire crawls a god with the mind of a flamethrower and the voice of a melt...

In the corpse-chamber of a slain god, sleep doesn’t last. The pack awakens to a nightmare — waves of mutant, hairless rats pouring from vents and flesh, swarming their camp in the dark. No screaming. No panic. Just war. Boy Two rolls up with a blade before breathing. Boy Seven vaults into the swarm. Boy Eight loses a leg and keeps fighting. Boy Three saves my life without even looking at me. Three...

A god-beast is dead, acid still steaming from its joints. My boys and I don’t leave. Not yet. This room — this silent chamber between hell-floors — holds old alien war relics and the first breath of safety we’ve tasted in weeks. They eat. They sleep. They dream. But I don’t. I keep one eye open. Because this isn’t peace. This is the inhale before violence. And the rats are coming. Contains graphic...

The chamber is wider than the last three floors combined. Gravity hiccups. Boys vomit and weep. The air whispers thoughts that don’t belong. It’s waiting for them. Not a spider queen. Not a monster. A god. “I taught the first murderer how to sharpen stone. I swallowed the third moon for sport.” It calls itself the Thought That Bends. Claims it split empires with sighs and sundered gods. Warns that...

Cosmos leads the Twelve through nine waves of escalating horror—brutes with acidic blood, clones with human faces begging for help, silkweavers with razor legs. Boys lose limbs. One loses his hand and keeps fighting with a spike through the stump. Then the queen arrives. Six meters of armored nightmare that splits the floor beneath her weight. The boys swarm. Fire. Acid. Psychic claws. When it’s o...

Before the boys, before the missions, before GATELOCK PRIME—there was a puppy in a Russian lab who could see through walls. Cosmos wasn’t created. She was carved. Broken in a psycho-child program that fed her star-shaped pills and videos of dying children. She escaped through blood and bone, following a signal she didn’t yet understand. Artifacts. Now she hunts them with twelve cloned boys connect...

A psychic dog wakes. Twelve cloned boys follow her into the depths of an ancient industrial complex. They don’t have names. They barely survive long enough to earn them. The cloning vats spin up replacements when they fall. Cosmos leads her pack through GATELOCK PRIME, hunting artifacts in the ruins. The lattice connects their minds. The artifacts watch and wait. This is where it begins. ** Explic...