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- WARWOLF
Warwolf in…
DOG OF WAR
By Alexander Ritter
A quick moving dust cloud moved across the hazy horizon in the western region of war-torn Iraq. The dust was actually sand being kicked up by the rolling wheels of a heavily armored Army Humvee. The small, but experienced, squad of soldiers within the vehicle were on a routine search patrol through several of the smaller villages on the outskirts of the country. The Humvee pulled up to the edge of a town and stopped. Four soldiers exited the vehicle and were greeted by one of the villagers.
“Ah! Welcome, my friends. I am glad to see you are all doing well this day!”
“Gabir,” acknowledged the soldier at the head of the squad, as he gave a slight nod. “It’s good to see you too. I can’t begin to tell you how good it is to have someone like you covering this checkpoint. Only ten percent of the locally appointed police forces are doing even close to a competent job. You’re one of the bright spots in this whole operation. We’re lucky to have you on our side.”
“I thank you for that compliment. However, I feel I am only doing my job, so such praise is unnecessary. This is my home. I want to do my best to keep all of my friends and neighbors safe.”
Staff Sergeant Mark Shields placed his hand on Gabir’s shoulder and smiled. “Well, your cooperation and dedication have been invaluable. A lot of the locals who signed up to join the police force aren’t working out so well. They either run away at the first sign of trouble, or resort to lethal force when unnecessary. You really do make our job a lot easier.”
Gabir took a quick glace at the assembled force and turned back to face Sergeant Mark Shields.
“Where is the other half of your squad? Are they running behind today?”
“We decided to split the squad today,” explained Sergeant Shields. “The rest of the team is running a patrol in the villages to the south. There haven’t been any disturbances in this area for months, so we are trying to make quick work of this patrol today. It’s Mary’s birthday today. We have a little party planned back at basecamp tonight.”
Gabir silently nodded his head.
“Anything of significance to report?” inquired Shields.
“No,” replied Gabir. “It is as you have said: There has not been anything of note occurring in the last several months. For that I am thankful.”
Sergeant Shield turned and motioned for the rest of the squad to move in closer for a briefing. “Alright crew, let’s make sure this area is secure and then leave these people to their day. George, you’re with me. Vic, you and Mary start on the North end of town. George and I will come up from the south and then we will all convene in the center of town.”
The whole mood of the group changed from relaxed to serious as the actual patrol of the village got underway. Gabir, Sergeant Mark Shields, and Private George Jones walked off to the south. Private Mary Slater led the way north as Specialist Vic Marcus followed behind.
The door to door search was fairly uneventful. All the residents seemed more than happy to allow Mary and Vic into any building. Nothing out of the ordinary was noticed by Mary or Vic. It didn’t take long before the pair of soldiers made their way through dozens of buildings and alleys, and ended the patrol in the center of town.
“I would have to say that we got our patrol done in record time.” stated Mary, proudly.
Vic Marcus shrugs and sits down on the ground near one of the local merchant’s fruit stands. “If George wasn’t such a slacker, I bet Mark would have beat us here.”
Mary leaned against the wall of a building near Vic. “I’m just glad the fighting in this region seems to have tapered off. I must have been out of my mind to sign up for a third tour of duty. As soon as my time is up, I‘m heading home to be with my family.”
Vic removed a candy bar from its place in one of his side pockets and began to eat it. He noticed a little boy nearby playing in the dirt. Vic yelled to get the kid’s attention. When the boy glanced over, Vic tossed half of the candy bar to the boy. The kid smiled and waved back as he started to eat the candy.
“You are really good with the kids for a guy who doesn’t have, nor would like to have, any children,” observed Mary.
At that moment, the child’s mom called for him. The child waved at Vic and Mary one more time before running off towards his mother.
“I’ve got you all figured out,” continued Mary. “You give all the other guys in our squad a hard time and you act like a jerk most of the time, but deep down you really are a nice guy.”
“Don’t tell anyone or you’ll ruin my reputation,” warned Vic with a smirk. “Most of these guys out here know that I give them a hard time because that’s how I deal with the stress of our job. I’m on my best behavior with civilians. Most of the time.”
Mary grinned. “That’s fine. For the most part, we give it back as good as you give it.”
“As far as me having my own kids… I wouldn’t bank on that. I’m not even qualified to care for a cat, let alone any kids,” said Vic. “I just want to let these kids here know that you and I are supposed to be the “good guys” in all of this. I’ve seen some soldiers in the past who have been real assholes to the locals at times. These poor kids have seen firefights and bombings… I can’t even imagine what it must be like for a little kid to lie awake at night while the ground is shaking and the night sky looks like it’s on fire because there is bombing or shelling occurring.”
“My daughter gets scared if it’s raining hard. I can’t imagine what it must be like for them here either,” agreed Mary as she sighed. “I wish it was time for my tour to be over. I wish I could be home with my daughter on my birthday.”
“Hey, at least you’ll have us to hang out with on your birthday. That’s something, right?”
“I just feel like a bad mom. I’ve already missed out on being home for my daughter’s birthday last month. She will be on vacation from school soon, and that would be a good chance to spend time with her. I miss my family.”
Mary’s voice trailed off and she stared of over the tops of the village buildings at the hazy horizon with a downhearted look to her eyes.
“Hey, you’re not a bad mom,” prodded Vic, trying to put Mary’s mind at ease. “You are doing this for the right reasons. And don’t forget you are going on leave for two weeks at the end of the month. It won’t be long before you’ll be able to see your daughter for a while and then come back and finish up your work here. The fact that you are here is a making a difference. That is what we have to be aware of or we’ll just go crazy out here.
Mary turned away and faced the wall of a building in the ally as she wiped away a tear. Mary took a deep breath and calmed herself down before turning back to face Vic. “You know something, you’re right. I’m just feeling really homesick right now. I want to thank you for being a real friend and not just a fellow soldier.”
“The amount of time we’ve spent together? Yeah, I’d say we’re more than just “fellow soldiers” now. As a matter of fact, we are pretty much family at this point. In reality, for me, you guys ARE the only family I’ve got. If I ever do get married you do know that I expect you to be at my wedding, right?”
Mary smiled and tried to keep herself from laughing. Vic always knew how to cheer her up when she was felling disheartened. “You getting married would have to be something I see with my own eyes to believe. I feel sympathy for whatever poor girl is going to have to end up putting up with your antics for the rest of her life.”
“Just remember, don’t let anyone know that I’m really a softie. I need to uphold my rep as the guy with the smart-ass comments at inappropriate times,” said Vic. The tone of his voice was stern, but he said it with a smile and a wink.
“It will be our secret.”
Just then Vic Marcus quickly stood up as Sergeant Shields and Private Jones arrived at the meeting point.
“Everything was all quiet for us,” reported Private Jones. “I’ll go ahead and assume that you guys didn’t find anything either?”
Vic chuckled to himself. “You know something George, when you assume, it makes an ass out of you and me. Not to mention you are already a big enough ass for the whole squad. With that in mind, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t assume anything when I’m involved.”
Private George Jones rolled his eyes. “Why do I even bother asking YOU anything? You never want to give a straight answer without trying to be cute about it. And try coming up with some material that isn’t overused. I mean, that’s not even sophomoric, it’s elementary. Very juvenile.”
“It was only elementary and juvenile so you could understand it. I didn’t want to come up with anything too high-concept or I’d have to explain it to you and then it wouldn’t be funny anymore.”
Mark Shields, who was standing behind Privet Jones, loudly and obviously cleared his throat.
Vic sensed that Sergeant Shields was starting to get annoyed with Vic’s antics. Vic decided to start being serious for a moment. “You want the straight answer? Our patrol was the same as it has been every other time we’ve come through here. No weapons caches, no insurgents, no evidence of any firefights. I almost feel like we are wasting our time here. We could probably be better utilized doing cordon and search missions in a region that actually has an ongoing conflict.”
“Speak for yourself man!” exclaims Private Jones. “We’ve got it easy here! It’s a good gig, and it’s safe. As smooth as things are going here, I actually feel like I might make it home in one piece. I don’t know why you would want to pass up on what we’ve got going here. Why intentionally put yourself in danger somewhere else?”
“I want to feel like I’m doing something productive to help set things towards some semblance of stability, that’s what I signed up to do. It‘s obvious that Gabir is capable of keeping this town secure. If you wanted something safe and easy you should have stayed home and finished school. I’m sure all the real soldiers could keep everything under control even if you weren’t here playing the role of a soldier yourself.”
“We are doing something productive Vic,” assured Sergeant Shields as he stepped between Vic and George. Shields knew when Vic was poking fun and when Vic was being serious. The last thing Shields wanted to deal with today was Vic and George coming to blows because Vic wanted to question George’s commitment to the mission. “I know it doesn’t seem like we are finding anything on these searches, but our constant presence here is keeping terrorists out of the area. Because they KNOW we are going sweep through here. So they decide to stay away from this area rather than risk running across us.”
“See?” said Private Jones. “A job well done! Pat on the back and high fives all around. Now let’s get back to base so we can get some birthday cake.”
“Our job is done here,” confirmed Sergeant Shields. “Let’s move out.”
“Is the other half of your unit going to pass through here today as well?” inquired Gabir.
“Nope. As I said, we are going on opposite sweeps, and we’re not going to overlap at all. The full crew will be back here next week. You’ll be able to see everyone then. I’ll tell them that you send your regards when I see them at the party tonight.”
Gabir nodded his head. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
Sergeant Shields salutes Gabir. “Thank you, Gabir. Keep up the good work!”
The patrol unit loaded into the Humvee and it drove off into the distance as Gabir stood and watched them disappear over the horizon.
“Are you alright Vic?”
Vic Marcus looked over at Sergeant Mark Shields. They were both sitting in the back of the Humvee. George Jones was driving as Mary Slater acted as a lookout, ready to provide cover fire if necessary. It rarely ever was.
“Earth to Vic. You still with us buddy?” reiterated Shields, waving his hands in the air at Vic.
“Yeah. I’m just… Thinking.”
“That never leads to anything good.”
“Very funny. I’m supposed to be the guy on the team with the wisecracks, not you. But seriously, something just didn’t feel right today. Gabir seemed a little off. Did it seem like there was something weird with him to you?”
“He was just thrown off because the whole crew didn’t come out today. He’s accustomed to seeing Jon, Frank, and the rest of the guys. The situation was out of the ordinary, a break from his routine. That’s all it was.”
“I don’t know. I’m not convinced. I feel like something wasn’t right.”
“Listen, Vic, we did an extensive search. I know that George and I checked every building on the south side of town.”
“Mary and I did the same on the north side,” confirmed Vic.
“Nobody found anything out of the ordinary. Gabir would have told us if he even thought something was wrong. It’s like you said before: you want to feel like you’re doing something productive. You are psyching yourself out. It’s all in your head.”
“Maybe…”
Suddenly the Humvee slowed down and came to a stop. George yelled back from the driver’s seat.
“Sarge, we’ve got a problem! You have got to see this!”
Gabir stood at the edge of town. He looked off into the distance, even though it’s been several minutes since the squad has left the village. Gabir had been overcome with a growing sense of helplessness as the squad had driven away and out of sight. Gabir’s family lineage had lived in this village for several generations. As far back as anyone in his family can remember. Could this be the end of it all for his family and the village?
A large man with three missing fingers on his left hand walked up and stood behind Gabir. Gabir had been lost in thought and did not notice the man walk up behind him. Gabir flinched when the man surprised him by putting his hand on Gabir’s shoulder. Gabir resisted the urge to pull away and then spit in the man’s face.
“You have done well, my friend,” congratulated the man.
“I don’t have a choice do I, Malik?” asked Gabir through clenched teeth. “And I am not your friend.”
“Indeed,” agreed the disfigured man. “You are correct on both counts. Friendship is irrelevant to our agreement. If you want your wife to live, then your cooperation with us is guaranteed. You know that this is not something to be taken lightly. We have already beheaded your sister; we do not make idle threats.”
Gabir’s brow furrowed in anger when the man boasted about beheading Gabir’s sister. But what could he do? Even if he fought back now against Malik, there were more members of Malik’s group waiting in and around the area. Gabir knew he was being watched. That is why he couldn’t risk telling Mark Shields about the danger here. If only he could have come up with a way to alert the squad without revealing his betrayal to Malik.
“I will say again: You have done well.” Malik had a cold and unsympathetic glint in his eyes as he pointed at Gabir. “Do not betray our trust and you will see your wife again.”
The disfigured man walked back into town as Gabir dropped down to his knees with tears running down his face. Gabir cursed himself for being weak and unable to fight back. The price for defying Malik was too high. Something Gabir could be at peace with was sacrificing himself to help his village. The thing Gabir couldn’t live with was the torment and death that would befall the rest of his family if he did. Never before had Gabir felt so helpless, and never before had he prayed so hard for salvation.
“Why did we stop?!?” demanded Vic Marcus. “What’s wrong up there?”
“There’s a fucking car blocking the road!” screamed George, growing more agitated by the second.
Vic and Mark moved from the back of the Humvee towards the front. They wanted to get a better look at the situation. There was a rusted looking car stopped in the middle of the road, one of those large and blocky cars that you would commonly see rolling down the street in the 1980’s. Outdated in the USA, but in a poor region like this, it must have seemed like a Rolls-Royce or a Bentley. Currently smoke was coming out of the hood of the car. A man waves over at the Humvee.
“Drive around,” ordered Sergeant Shields.
“Wait a minute,” said Vic, putting his hand up. Vic took a closer look at the scene before him. He noticed that the kid he gave a candy bar to earlier was sitting in the back seat of the car. The kid’s mother was sitting in the front seat.
“We should go help them,” said Vic.
“Are you stupid?” asked George, with a look on his face that said he didn’t believe what he just heard. “What if it’s an ambush?”
“Don’t get stressed out. It’s not an ambush,”
George gave Vic a dirty look. “Don’t get stressed out? Let me tell you how this movie goes. These guys pretend to have car problems to lure us out there and then snipers take us down. Game over. Roll credits. That is not how I’m leaving this war.”
“George, chill out. It’s not a fucking ambush. Those people are just a family that needs someone to help them.”
“How do you know? How can you be so sure of yourself?”
“It’s just a feeling I have. I’m not going to sit here and debate this with you,” said Vic, as he opened the side door of the Humvee.
“I’m coming with you!” yelled Mary.
Vic stepped out onto the dirt road and started walking towards the car. Mary followed behind him. She was scanning the surrounding area with her gun drawn at the ready. Sergeant Mark Shields exited the Humvee shortly afterwards, also with his gun drawn. George Jones stayed in the vehicle and watched, swearing under his breath the whole time.
As Mary and Mark stood guard, Vic was in the middle of the road talking with the man. Vic and the man walked over to the car and opened the hood. Vic spent several minutes working on the engine of the car. After a while, he motions for the man to try and start the car. As the man turns the keys in the ignition, the car starts running again. The man came back out of the car, smiling and shaking hands with everyone. Vic smiled and patted him on the back as the trio of soldiers walked back to the Humvee.
“See? I told you those guys were not part of an ambush. They are just a family trying to drive to the next village so they can have access to a better marketplace. Just a group of civilians that needed help. The whole reason we are here in the first place.”
George let out and exasperated sigh. “I still think we should have just drove around and left them. What if you were wrong? Even if they weren’t willingly part of an ambush, what if an insurgent group came upon us when our guard was down? Why risk it?”
Vic Marcus was about to continue the argument, when suddenly the Humvee was rocked by a huge explosion. As the car started to drive away, it accidentally triggered an improvised explosive device and caused the IED to detonate. The car and the family inside were instantly ripped apart by the force of the explosion. The Humvee was rocked and overturned on its side from the force of the blast.
“Is everyone alright?” screamed Sergeant Shields, as he kicked open the hatch in the roof. He rolled out into the sand.
“No,” responded Mary. “I think my arm is broken. And George… I think George is dead…”
Vic sat up from his position on the side door of the Humvee which has now become the floor due to the current position of the vehicle. He saw that George’s lifeless body was hanging halfway out of the driver seat. George’s body was still strapped in by the safety belts. Mary was sitting under where George’s body hung. She was looking up at him as blood ran down his lifeless face.
“His eyes are open. He’s looking at me, but I know he’s dead,” mumbled Mary. She gawked at George, returning his unblinking gaze with one of her own, frozen in shock. Blood that had dripped down from George was running down the side of her face.
“Mary, snap out of it!” screams Vic. “The Humvee is on fire. We’ve got to get out of here right now!”
Mary glanced over at Vic with a blank expression on her face.
“You are going home to see your daughter in a couple of weeks. You’ve got a birthday party tonight. We have to leave now.”
Mary looked at Vic and he could see a spark of life return to her eyes. She shook her head briefly and then looked around at the carnage surrounding her as the sound of Vic’s voice brought her to her senses. Mary grunted with pain and started crawling towards the roof hatch. Vic helped her out of the hatch and down onto the sand, then jumped out of the vehicle behind her. Sergeant Shields and Vic then helped Mary up to her feet.
“Your arm does look like it’s in rough shape,” confirmed Vic. “We’re going to have to get that patched up.”
“My arm looks like it’s in rough shape? You look like hell.”
“Yeah, well… so do you. We all do, but I guess that’s what happens when we got blown up.” Vic was trying to keep the mood light, but they did look like they’d been through hell already.
Mary’s blond hair was blackened and dirty from oil, grease, and soot from the busted up Humvee. Not to mention the crimson blood that was matted in her hair and smeared on the side of her face. Mary’s arm hung at her side as it caused her pain to try and move it to much. Parts of her uniform were burnt and blackened or just plain shredded. Vic and Sergeant Shields looked to be in slightly better condition, but only slightly.
Sergeant Shields used his radio to contact basecamp. “Base, this is Sergeant Mark Shields. My squad needs evac right now! We have one casualty and one injury. Our convoy was hit by an IED about two clicks east of the vi…”
Suddenly Sergeant Shields dropped the radio with a pained expression on his face. Several bursts of sand were kicked up in the air as a barrage of gunfire rained down upon the group. As the trio was recovering from the IED blast, they failed to notice a jeep approaching from the distance.
Vic shoved Mary behind the overturned Humvee and dove down beside her to take cover from the onslaught of gunfire from the jeep. A female was driving the jeep as two males are leaning out of the back of the jeep. The two men appeared to be armed with automatic handguns. The jeep had been on a patrol of its own, when the occupants had noticed one of their IED’s had been triggered. The group had driven in to recover the bodies of whoever triggered the IED. Mark Shield managed to lift up his gun as he was lying in the sand. He attempted to return fire, but is not very successful before he was overtaken by the jeep.
Vic and Mary took turns returning fire towards the jeep from their position behind the Humvee. The arm Mary injured was the one she normally used for everything. Aiming and firing the heavy rifle with one arm was difficult, but Mary was fighting for her life.
“I should have seen them coming! I’m sorry Mary. I was concerned with your arm and I should’ve been making sure the area was secure.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. We are going to get through this. Listen, let’s contain these hostels. Maybe we can still make it back to base in time to get some cake. You know, before the rest of the boys eat it all. You can bring me a piece while I’m in the infirmary getting fixed up.”
Mary was doing her best to joke around, tossing out some teasing banter to counterbalance the severity of her current situation. It was possibly one last lighthearted exchange with a man who had become a brother to her.
Vic laughed. “That sounds good,” he said, playing along. “I promise I’ll bring you a piece of cake. I won’t let Frank eat it all.”
“And you know he could!”
“They’re not firing anymore. Did they run low on ammo, or..?”
Vic poked his head out from around the side of the Humvee. He saw one of the men from the jeep leveling a shoulder mounted rocket launcher in the direction of the Humvee. Then, Vic’s whole world was swallowed by a deafening roar and blinding flames before going completely black.
Vic became mildly aware of his surroundings. He was being moved across a room by two people. They dropped Vic limply on the floor. Vic could see, but everything in his vision was slightly blurry and muddled. The men talk to each other, but all Vic could hear is a pulsing rhythm pounding in his head.
The men pushed an old, dirty, orange couch across the room. The men pulled up the intricately woven tapestry patterned carpet that was under the couch, brushed away some sand, and opened a trap door in the floor.
“Those motherfuckers were here the whole time!” thought Vic to himself.
The men tossed Vic down the hole in the floor. Vic fell several feet and crashed onto a dirt floor. He had already been “blown up” earlier in the day, so getting dropped on his head from several feet didn’t seem like such a big deal. He had “lived through worse” at this point.
His captors slowly descended a ladder down into the cave-like room with Vic. They forced him into a chair and then tied him to it with a length of rope. The whole time this was occurring, Vic came more and more to his senses.
Now operating with almost full capabilities, Vic quickly assessed the situation. Now operating with almost full capabilities, Vic quickly assessed the situation. He was tied to a chair, along with Gabir and one other, an attractive Iranian woman he didn’t recognize. There were two men and one woman standing around the room, the same ones from the jeep that had attacked his squad. One large man was standing directly in front of Vic. All the air left Vic’s body as he noticed the decapitated heads of George, Mark, Mary, and another unknown woman all lined up on a shelf behind the large man.
“I see you are awake now,” said the large man. He spoke English very clearly, but had a middle eastern accent to his words. Vic noticed that this large man was holding a long sword with decorative etchings on the blade. Vic also took note that the man was missing several fingers and had a tattoo of a Black Bear on his forearm. “I have some questions I would like you to answer for me.”
“Go to hell!” Vic spits at the man. Vic starts straining against the ropes, trying to pull his arms and legs free. He was tightly bound and couldn’t manage to do more than make the chair rock slightly back and forth. Vic tried to keep his anger in check for the time being. Vic was holding on to his sanity by a razor thin thread. It was taking all his willpower to contain himself.
The man smiled and wiped the spit from his face. “All your friends are dead,” said the man, calmly. “You are not dead. How is this possible?” The man pointed the sword at Vic’s throat. “Your burns are nearly healed. The bullet holes in your arms are nearly mended! What manner of magic is this?”
Vic bit his lip and looked away from the man. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, with obvious disdain in his voice.
The man pointed his sword at the woman next to Gabir. “You tell me what I want to know, or she joins my collection.”
“You promised you wouldn’t kill my wife Malik!” screamed Gabir, as the woman cries.
“You are right my friend. I did promise that you would not have to watch your wife die. I am a man of my word. I do not break my promises.”
Suddenly the man lashed out with the sword and beheaded Gabir as his wife screamed in distress and anguish. Gabir’s decapitated head hit the floor and rolls a short distance until it comes to a rest several feet away from Vic. Gabir’s beheaded body slumped lifeless against the restraints in the chair. Gabir’s wife unleashed one last ear splitting wail of anger and despair before sobbing softly as she closed her eyes.
“I always follow through on my promises,” said the man to himself, as he stood behind Gabir’s wife. Her weeping came to an end as he drew the blade across her neck as well. A spray of blood erupted from her neck and splattered at Vic’s feet. The man used a rag to wipe the blood from his blade.
“Your unwillingness to cooperate just cost the lives of two people. Now you have one more chance. You tell me what I want to know or YOU die next. You may heal from fire and bullets, but I do not think you would heal if I separate your head from your body.”
“There is only one way to find out,” taunted Vic. “But we can play this game if you want. If you want me to tell you, I want you to do something for me first.”
Malik looked at Vic in disbelief and started to laugh.
“Who are you to make demands of me?”
“You answer my questions and I ‘promise’ you will find out exactly what you want to know,” said Vic with a confident smile, as he stares into the large man’s eyes.
“You will tell me the secret of your powers?”
“Yes.”
“And I will be able to take these powers for myself?”
“One thing at a time. Do we have a deal?”
“What do you want to know?”
“You have a tattoo of a black bear on your forearm. I have heard about an extremist group called the Black Bear Rebels. Is that who you are?”
“You have heard of us?” Malik beams with pride. “Good, our message is getting out.”
“Yeah, I have heard of you. A few weeks ago a group of soldiers was handing out toys and food to children in a village several kilometers south of here. A car loaded with explosives drove into the crowd of children and detonated. Several soldiers and innocent civilians died that day. The Black Bear Rebels claimed responsibility for that attack.”
“Yes. That was us. That was a day the Black Bear bellowed and everyone took notice!”
“You’re feeling pretty good about that stunt, aren’t you? Those soldiers were good men, trying to bring a little bit of happiness to the kids who are suffering. And even worse than that, were the kids themselves becoming victims of that senseless attack!”
“Why are those children suffering in the first place? You Americans come here uninvited and ransack our homes looking for those you deem terrorists. YOU are the ones who are scaring the children coming into their homes and harassing their families. But that is ok, if you scare the children or accidentally kill their dogs, you give them Legos and dolls. You Americans are trying to bribe the loyalty of the children and spread your propaganda all the while disguising it as charity. It is you who are spreading fear and distrust here. It is you who are the terrorists. The Black Bear Rebels are just fighting back and protecting our homes, no different than you would do if someone tried to take over your city.”
“Are you kidding me? You killed those kids and you are acting like you are some kind of heroes? You also killed the only family I’ve got. Gabir only wanted to keep his village safe, he wanted the same thing you claim to want, but he was able to do it without killing innocent people. George Jones just turned eighteen years old. He didn’t get a chance to get married or go to college. Mark Shields had two kids. His wife died of cancer three years ago. They had always wanted to travel to Europe but never got the chance too. After he was done with his service here he was going take that trip to Europe and spread some of his wives ashes in every country they dreamed of visiting. Mary Slater was happily married with a daughter. Mary was going to return home after this and be with her family. Mary is never going to see her daughter graduate school, get married, or have children of her own. And Mary’s daughter is going to have to take that journey through life without her mother there to see any of it.”
“Yes. I killed all of those people and I’ll kill many more to reach my goals,” said the man, impatiently. “It does not matter to me the names or stories of these people. It only matters to me that they have been “removed” from the field. You are all either going to leave my country voluntarily or I will kill each and every one of you with own hand if need be. Now that I have answered your question, you will answer mine.”
“You know, it’s funny…” began Vic, “The night sky is really dark out tonight. It’s almost a new moon. You can hardly even see the moon at all. But there IS a really good view of Mars tonight. It didn’t take me long to figure out I wasn’t bound to the moon, but it did take me years to figure out that I was bound by Mars.”
Malik had a confused expression on his face as he watched Vic lean back in the chair. Vic‘s whole body started straining and convulsing. Vic’s body grew larger as he began a transformation. He had done this many times before, but it still hurt. He wasn’t about to let anyone in this room know that. Vic did his best not to scream as intestines and muscles felt like they were being compressed into nothingness and then stretched back out beyond their breaking limit. The sound of bones popping and cracking echoed throughout the room. Vic’s teeth lengthened and turned razor sharp. Dark brown fur covered his body as he finished his transformation into a werewolf.
The rope bindings that had held Vic to the chair were stretched and started to defray as the wooden chair itself broke apart. Vic stood up and knocked the remnants of the chair aside as a low growl emits from his throat. He was proud of himself for not screaming or making any other indications of pain during the transformation. Vic tilted his head back and let loose with a fearsome howl that reverberated throughout the entire room. The group of Black Bear rebels was all just staring at the seven foot mass of fur and fangs that towered over them. Malik took a step back as the other three members of the Black Bear Rebels lifted their guns in Vic’s direction.
With lightning speed, Vic ripped the gun out of the nearest man’s hands and broke it into pieces. He eviscerated the man with two swift claw slashes to the abdomen. Vic turned and swung his clawed paw behind him, slashing the female rebel across the face and knocking her across the room. Vic shook with pain as a rain of semi-automatic gunfire crashed into his body. He crouched and used his powerful leg muscles to propel himself across the room. Pouncing upon the rebel who was shooting him, Vic pinned him to the ground. Vic bit down onto the man’s arm. Mighty jaw muscles and razor sharp teeth caused Vic’s bite to separate the man’s arm from his body. Seconds later, a smashing blow from his paw crushed the man’s skull.
The brown werewolf slowly stood up and turned to face Malik. Blood was dripping from his jaws and it almost looked like his eyes were glowing red in the dim light.
“You are the devil’s hound, sent to take my soul!” screams Malik, with anger and defiance in his voice.
“No,” growled the werewolf. “I’m just a man with a curse. This is my ‘power.’ The more prominent Mars is in the sky, the more powerful I become and the harder it is to control myself. This is why I wasn’t slain when you murdered my “family”. I’m sorry to say, there isn’t any way for you to acquire this power for yourself. It is something that I alone possess. I’m one of a kind.”
Malik tried to think of a way out of this situation. He was angry because in his mind, he had been deceived. And, in reality, he had been. Vic had strung Malik along and allowed Malik to falsely believe there was some sort of secret that he could use to further his own goals. When it was all said and done, the “secret” ended up being something that was going to be the end of Malik’s existence. Malik was furious that he was going to be slaughtered in darkness by an American dog instead of dying in a blaze of glory that would capture the attention of the world. Perhaps all was not lost. His loyal followers had been slaughtered with ease, but they were not destined for great things as Malik believed he was.
Malik screamed and rushed at the werewolf, swinging his sword with malice. Vic blocked the strike with his arm. The sword cut deep into his Vic’s arm, but did not sever the appendage. Malik dislodged the blade and swung wildly again. Vic caught the blade with his paws. Blood poured from Vic’s paws as he ripped the sword out of Malik’s hands. The werewolf held the blade up and broke it in half, then tossed it on the ground at his feet. Vic briefly looks down and sees that the cut on the pad of his paw is already starting to seal up and knit together. Vic holds up his paw for Malik in order to show him how quickly the wound heals and how futile Malik’s attempt to fight had been.
“You should have invested in silver instead of that cheap iron,” quipped Vic.
Malik stood still with his eyes closed. He mouthed a prayer, knowing he could not escape his fate. Vic swung his claws with enough force to remove Malik’s head from his body with one blow. Breathing heavily, Vic dropped down to his knees and started to revert to his human form. It was less painful than changing into the werewolf, but it hurt all the same. He took a look at the carnage strewn about the room. Vic thought to himself that he was lucky he no longer had as enhanced of a sense of smell in this form, and then passed out.
Vic Marcus leaned back in a chair as he sat at a metal table in a small white room. He was eating cake when a man in a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform entered the room and sat down at the table opposite from Vic. Vic quickly sized up the man. He had orange hair and reading glasses, with an average build. Vic figured this man hadn’t seen much field action and was probably more of a pencil pusher.
“Hello Mr. Marcus,” greeted the man. “My name is Lance Barker and I represent S.H.I.E.L.D. We understand you were involved in an incident earl…”
“Is that what it’s being classified as? An incident?”
“Mr. Marcus, we would appreciate your full cooperation in the investigation of this matter. We have several deceased soldiers, beheaded civilians, a dead Iraqi police officer, and several rebel fighters that appear to have been torn apart by some kind of wild animal.”
“Maybe it was a black bear,” joked Vic. “You guys should already have my official statement from the army. You can just look up anything you want to know.”
“Mr. Marcus, how is it that all of those people were massacred, yet you sit here before me in nearly perfect health?”
“I’ve already told this story, I don’t know what happened. My squad was ambushed and was taken hostage. The rest of my squad was already dead at that point. These rebels were a cell in the Black Bear terrorist group. They had me tied up and then I passed out. Everyone was already dead when I came to my senses.”
“Your story does not match up with our other eyewitness account of the incident. We know what you are Mr. Marcus.”
Vic had to take a moment to fully understand what Lance Baker had just told him. “Wait… Eyewitness account? What are you talking about?”
Lance motioned to the other side of the room. There was a large window, and in the hallway Vic could see that two other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were talking with a woman. The woman turned and pointed into the room at Vic. There was a nasty looking row of four scars across the woman’s face.
Claw marks.
She was the lone female member of the Black Bear cell, and somehow she had survived.
“Don’t worry Mr. Marcus. You are not in any kind of trouble. Quite the opposite in fact. We feel that you would be the perfect candidate for the Paranormal Containment Unit’s ‘Howling Commandos’ program we are hoping to launch in the near future. You could do a great service to your country.”
“Candidate for what now?” asked Vic. He had been distracted by the sight of the woman and had only half heard what Lance was saying. “Howling Commandos? That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard for a group.”
“It’s not an official designation, just a nickname that stuck. Anyway, as you know, S.H.I.E.L.D. is dedicated to protecting the world from any threat. Terrestrial, extraterrestrial, natural or… supernatural. We are looking to piece together a squad that can be adequately equipped to deal with some of our more macabre missions and threats that we face.”
“And you want me to join up with your little creature commando unit?”
“It’s not called the creature commandos, it’s th… look, it’s not important what we call the squad, it’s j…”
“You could call it the monster squad.”
“We are not calling it the monster squad! Would you please let me finish?” demanded Lance. “We don’t just want you to join this unit. You are being considered to be one of the squad leaders. You are battle tested and we are very optimistic about what you can bring to the table with both your combat experience and your ‘special’ talents.”
“So you classify what I have to be a talent and not a curse?” Vic took a moment to think about the possibilities of being able to cut loose and not hold back. “Maybe I could learn to look at it that way. But, how does that one quote go? “I don’t want to join a club that would want to have someone like me as a member?” Much less as a leader of the club!”
“This is an excellent opportunity to serve your country in a way that very few can. “Trust me; you don’t want to throw this opportunity away.”
“You know what I am and you want me to use the “gift” I possess in service to the country? I don’t have to hold back and everything is out in the open? This is a dream situation for me. Count me in. Just know that you have no idea what you just got yourself into by taking me on as a member of your group.”
“Excellent, Mr. Marcus. My superiors will be very pleased to hear how excited you are about this opportunity.”
Lance Barker glanced down and noticed an uneaten piece of cake on a plate next to the half-eaten piece of cake in front of Vic.
“Are you going to eat that?”
“No. And neither are you!” growled Vic.
Lance shook his head and left the room. Vic sat back in his chair and looked down at the piece of cake. He promised Mary he would save her a piece of cake and he had stayed true to his word. Marcus planned to visit Mary’s family and make sure they knew what kind of a true hero she really was and how much she loved them.
“Then,” he told himself, “I’m going to come back here and continue the job we started years ago. Making the world a better, safer place for everyone.”
Vic covered the piece of cake and takes it with him, shutting off the lights and closing the door behind him.
I’ve got to thank Charity VanderWeele for challenging me to add more detail and explanation in my second draft. Tips like “Maybe add a bit of personality to Vic right here in form of actions and facial expressions?” or “How is Mary shooting? With her arm broken? Does she have a small gun?” and “It seems strange that Vic just says “aright let’s do this” without an explanation of what the group is. He seems the type to think things through.” helped me more fully lay out the picture. Charity is someone I always wanted to work with, and I loved her ideas and suggestions for content during the time of piecing this together. I’d love to brainstorm on something together and do a full joint collaboration sometime.
Also, I’ve got to thank Meriades Rai for challenging me in my third draft to, while being descriptive, also to do it an a way that is focused and flows easy. To tighten up some of the overwriting and repetitiveness. Rai was nice enough to provide detailed explanations and provide a couple of examples. I didn’t pull it off 100% here, although I took a little bit of clutter out of some of the dialog. I think I have a better understanding of it, and it will be an invaluable help to me moving forward into any future writing.
I’ve got a ton of ideas and I hope to see everyone again sometime soon!
Editor’s Note: Follow Alexander Ritter as he takes on the adventures of Jack Russell in the newest Werewolf by Night series! It’s gonna be a blast!
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