Let Slip the Dogs of War
Chapter 1: Cry Havoc
By Chris Ward
February 25, 2007; Los Angeles, California
The first thing I became aware of was is the distinct smell of blood. That coppery scent
could belong to nothing else. More to the point, this was definitely blood taken from the
prisoner, Adam Monroe. I think I’ve been here before.
Putting aside the blood scent, as it was pumped into my arm, I located two people nearby.
Given my specific abilities, scent is a much stronger, and much more reliable, identifier
than sight. The first member of my audience carries the subtle scent of gold. Robert “Call
Me Bob” Bishop, my boss, is the living definition of morally grey; whatever needs done
gets done. Along with being my boss, his ability allows him to be one of the primary
financial backers of the Organization.
The other scent carries with it the tang of burnt ozone, obviously belonging to the
beautiful and deadly Elle Bishop, the boss’s daughter. This hyper-sexed little vixen has the
ability to generate massive amounts of electricity, and revels in it. Unlike her old man, the
minx doesn’t waste time being morally grey. Her moral code runs pure black. Sort of like me.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the ceiling until they focused. A couple of seconds later, less
than a minute after awaking, I looked around the room. I was right, I’ve been here before.
The only object providing any color to the medical ward is the half empty bag of blood
hanging from a nearby IV. Bob and Elle both stood against the far wall.
When he saw my gaze fall on him, Bob pushed away from the wall and walked toward my
right side. Ignoring him for a second, I let my gaze fall on Elle. Her scent informed me she
was aroused, which was unsurprising since she spends most of her time around me in that
state. With her father still facing away, she ran her finger along her inner thigh before
biting it with a coquettish smile.
Feeling Bob remove the IV and restraints, I sat up and watched the needle hole slowly fill
in as my limited healing ability repaired the damage. Scratching the back of my neck, I
looked at the bag. “Figured out how to use Liquid Adam to boost my healing yet? I’m tired
of these visits every time a mission doesn’t go according to plan.” My voice, a low and
menacing growl at the best of times, sounded worse still after being unused for better than
a day.
Shrugging, Bob took the bag over to the cooler and placed it with the other bags. “Not yet,
although we are still looking.” Turning back around, he removed his glasses and cleaned
them. While doing so, he cocked an eye toward me. “Now; I was hoping you could tell me
what went wrong?”
Ignoring him, I glanced back at Elle. “My kit?”
Shrugging at the exasperated look in Bob’s face, she sauntered to a nearby cabinet and
pulled out three small bags. Tossing them over, she laughed. “I had to get into your room
to get the clothing. What you wore on the mission was simply destroyed.”
I opened the lightest one first, since it was the one that held my clothes. I could hear Elle’s
quiet sounds of appreciation, her scent making it even more obvious that she wanted to
jump me right there, as I stripped off the brief medical gown. Grinning slightly, I deliberately
faced her as I slid into the clothing. The outfit she had packed was my normal wear, black
jeans, a black tee shirt, and combat boots; perfect for blending in just about anywhere.
Tossing the empty bag aside, I opened the second. Slipping into the customized duster, I
also put on the Ray-Bans and half gloves. Sitting back on the bed, I opened the last bag and
began checking my weapons. “What did you want?”
Controlling his temper, he repeated the question. “I’d like your report on what went
wrong.”
Shrugging, I laughed. “Didn’t you debrief your human sparkler?”
“Let’s just say I prefer as much information as possible.”
“Whatever.”
**********
February 23, 2003; Central Michigan
Hunkered down in the middle of a forest keeping an eye on an armored compound is not
my idea of a good time. Even less when it’s pouring down rain, cutting even my field of
vision and auditory range. Tapping the button on my headset, I whispered into the mike.
“You in position?”
The disgruntled voice on the other end came back almost immediately. “I’m in place, and I’
m wet.” After another second, she said, “I didn’t mean it that way, Havoc! I’m soaked to the
bone. If I so much as spark right now it’ll sting like a bitch!”
“Thus the guns, princess.”
I could almost hear her eyes roll. “Daddy doesn’t want us to kill the guy. He must’ve told
me that a half dozen times.”
“So shoot to maim. Anyway, Bob isn’t an ops guy, sweet tits. It always comes down to
bullets and blood.”
“Why are we here, anyway?”
“You were at the same briefing I was, Elle.”
“And?”
Scanning the area as best I could, I quietly dropped from my tree and sprinted to another
with better range. “There’s a guy here, Gregory Tripp, who communicates with and controls
animals. He used to be Organization, until he abandoned his post and vanished several
years back. From what the files said, it happened around the time Kaito and Pratt threw
Adam into his cell. He didn’t retire; he just vanished and started his own private army out
here.”
“Again, why are we here? You know as well as I do, Havoc, we’re fucking clean up. Daddy
only uses us when the regular Bag/Tag teams fail.”
“And they did. Spectacularly. Turns out this guy has recruited some tough norms and
specials. He’s apparently decided that he wants to take over the Organization and run it his
way, whatever way that is. Anyway, after Bob decided it was time to grab Tripp, he sent in
several teams.”
“How many?”
“Didn’t you read that damn file?”
“What do you think?”
Of course she hadn’t read the file. She never read the damned files “Three teams went in.
They all came back in pieces. That’s when Bob decided it was our turn.”
“He wants this guy alive?”
“Beast Master comes back alive, although I suspect that won’t last long. Boss man could
give a damn about anyone else.” Scanning the area again, I saw one of the compound’s
doors swing open as three men came out. “I’ve got movement. Anything on your end?”
After a moment’s pause, she said, “Yeah. Looks like three or four going into the bunker.
Shift change maybe?”
“Could be. Is Tripp with your group?”
“No. Yours?”
I watched my targets head into the barracks. “The same. He might be in the barracks, but
probably the bunker.”
“He’ll be easier to grab without backup.” That’s what I love about her. She’s got a great
rack and a perfect ass, and the sex is phenomenal, but that pales next to her passionate
lust for carnage and destruction.
“True enough. If you find him, secure him; otherwise, unleash hell.” Breaking contact, I
dropped from the tree and sprinted to the barracks. Keeping an eye on the bunker in case
someone emerged, my pulse began to pound while my breath quickened with excitement.
With a series of acrobatic leaps, I mounted the roof. Extending my senses to their utmost, I
padded across the roof until finding myself over a room that sounded empty. Hanging
headfirst from the roof, I confirmed that the room was empty. Dropping to the ground and
pulling out a burglar tool, I snapped the window’s latch and slipped into the room.
Closing the window, I pressed against the wall near the door. Sensing nobody in the hall, I
cracked open the door and slunk out. The eyes, even mine, are the most easily deceived of
the senses, so I closed them and stretched out with my ears and nose as I worked down
the hall. Empty room followed empty room.
Suddenly, I sensed people. Stopping in my tracks, I stretched my senses until locating five
men two doors ahead of me. Sliding the snake camera from its pouch in my sleeve, I
sprinted the distance and crouched beside the door. Sliding the snake under the door, I
got a look at the men inside. With a grin full of blood lust, I saw that Tripp was absent.
Putting the camera away, I put together a quick plan. Deciding that guns would be too loud
this early, I pulled my prize weapons from their sheaths inside my coat. Two sets of five
claws, designed to fit over each finger and thumb. Molded out of metal, they retained the
flexibility needed for digits, yet were sharp and strong enough to shred flesh and bone,
and fastened in place with metal studs in my gloves. With a furious shout, I smashed
through the door.
Three of the men were playing poker at a small table in the center of the room, while the
other two were in bunks. The sleepers died first, throats torn out before they even knew I
was present. The poker players scattered. Two of them ducked into the weapons closet
while the third attempted to keep me busy.
When he threw a roundhouse kick, I couldn’t contain a laugh. Catching the foot he
obligingly provided, I snapped his ankle and leg like twigs. Dropping him to the floor, I
watched him roll around in agony. “Oops.”
In a profoundly contemptuous gesture, I drove my heel through his chest, pulverizing the
ribcage and crushing his heart. Looking back up at the sound of weapons being cocked, I
found myself staring down the barrels of twin Magnums as the survivors reentered the
main room. Knowing damn well what was coming, I leapt toward them with a roar. Even as I
felt the bullets burn into me, I slammed my clawed fingers into their skulls, shredding brain
tissue as I ripped my hands to the sides, tearing open the skulls.
Grunting in pain, I cleaned the claws and put them away. Gently working my fingers along
my chest and sides, I found where four bullets had entered. Luckily, no major organs or
arteries had been hit. The bleeding was already slowing, and would likely stop within the
next few minutes, but the wounds would remain for several hours. If I had to be blessed
with a healing factor, why the hell couldn’t it have been one like Adam’s?
Exiting the room, I made my cautious way the halls. After three more visits I had a total of
fifteen kills, and another half dozen bullets scattered throughout my body. It hurt like hell,
so my mood was deteriorating with every step. Once my area was completely uninhabited, I
contacted Elle. “Nothing’s movin’ here, girl. Find him?”
“I persuaded one of my guys to talk before he died. Tripp’s in the main bunker.”
“Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”
Shortly thereafter, we met up outside the bunker. Before we had a chance to say anything,
we were both grabbed by the back of the neck. One heart pumping, stomach churning
instant later we were on the floor inside the bunker.
“Who has Bishop sent this time?” The cultured voice came from behind me. My nose told
me we had found the target; he smelled like the animals he controlled and communicated
with. Looking up from the floor, I found myself staring into the muzzle of a snarling timber
wolf. Glancing to the side, I saw Elle in a similar situation.
Rolling slowly to my back, careful to make no move toward my weapons, I sat up and faced
Tripp. “He sent me.”
Nodding appreciatively toward Elle, whose every curve was clearly visible through her
drenched clothing, he said, “And her?”
“You were with the Company, jack ass, you know the deal. The teams are always one and
one. Since I’m the one carrying better than half a dozen chunks of lead, and still have the
ability as well as the intense desire to rip your fucking head off, that makes her the normal.”
“Perhaps.” Getting to his feet, he prodded Elle with one foot. “On the other hand, it was de
rigueur in my day for the Spec to let the Norm take the lead, frequently pretending to be the
Norm.”
Making a snap decision, I leapt to my feet with a shout. Grabbing the timber wolf in both
hands, I let his teeth and claws shred my exposed flesh as I exerted every ounce of my
strength. His back broke with a snap and I ripped him in half. Dumping the pieces on the
floor, I wiped the blood from my eye and growled out, “Any questions?”
He seemed at a loss for words as he stared at his unexpectedly dead wolf. After several
minutes, he looked back at me appraisingly. “Enhanced strength and, I assume, regen? I
could use you.”
With his focus off her, Elle glanced at me and grinned. Drawing the attention of Tripp as
well as the six other men in the room, she stripped as she stood to her feet. After running
her fingers through her hair, she deliberately drew a deep breath as she placed her hands
at the small of her back and stretched sinuously backwards. Rolling her head to the side,
she emitted a playful giggle. “Does anyone have a towel?” Throwing a smoldering look at
Tripp, she ran a hand up her thigh. “I’m all wet.”
Nodding at one of the men drooling over her, Tripp said, “Do it.”
As the assembly spent the next several minutes entirely focused on the gyrations as she
dried every inch of her body, I slowly pulled a pair of knives from the small of my back.
Keeping them concealed, I slipped over to one of the guys near Elle.
Catching my eye, she nodded fractionally before spinning around and grabbing the
nearest man. As she drew him into a deep kiss, she allowed his hands to explore her body.
Keeping one hand clasped on the back of his neck, she ran the other one enticingly down
his chest to his waist.
As her hand vanished into his jeans and began a stroking motion, I whispered into my
target’s ear, “This is really gonna hurt.”
The man who had been under the impression that he was about to get lucky arched back,
screaming in agony, as Elle unloaded better than twenty thousand volts through his balls.
Immediately withdrawing her hand from his smoking trousers, she spun around and threw
balls of electricity at two nearby targets. At the same instant, I drove one of my blades into
the back of my target’s skull and spun around, dropping to one knee, to fling the other
blade into a nearby chest.
Even as I leapt at the final man, closing my fist around his throat, the remaining timber wolf
ripped into my thigh. Feeling my life’s blood draining from the severed artery, I crushed my
targets throat and screamed for Elle to fry the wolf. I felt the heat from her discharge rip
him from my leg even as I rolled over and grappled for a gun. As consciousness fled, I
sighted down the barrel and obliterated Tripp’s left eye.
**********
February 25, 2003; Los Angeles, California
“In other words, despite my explicit orders, you killed him?”
“Well, gee whiz Bob, I just sorta decided, ya know, to hell with orders; just this once.”
Slamming my final gun into place, I jumped to my feet. “Christ, I was fucking dying, all right?
Elle’s in pretty damn good shape, but there’s no way in hell she could haul my dead weight
ass while corralling that fucking Beast Master. I made a split second decision to solve that
problem.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want excuses, Michael. You fucked up the mission.”
Screaming into his face, I said, “Fuck off, Bob! If you really want him so fucking bad, go get
him, give him Essence of Adam, and do whatever the fuck you want with him!”
“I’m afraid that option is closed to us, my feral young friend.” Spinning around at the
unknown voice, hands darting inside my duster for knives, I found myself staring at a
polished, urbane gentleman who seemed to be in his fifties or sixties. His identifying odor
was overlaid by an unusually healthy, nearly antiseptic scent. With a smiling nod toward
Elle, he said, “This charming young lady followed standard procedure and used her special
gift to erase any evidence that either of you had been there. Unfortunately, in her zeal she
made it impossible for us to revive Gregory Tripp.”
Shrugging, with a vastly insincere smile, she said, “Oops.”
“Great. Now who the fuck're you?”
Bob stepped forward and barked out, “Michael! Back down!”
Waving him off, the white haired stranger shook his head slightly and said, “That’s quite all
right, Robert.” Extending his hand to me, he smiled again. “My name is Daniel Linderman. I’
m an old friend and former partner of Mr. Bishop’s.”
Quickly but cautiously shaking the proffered hand, I caught a brief glimmer oft in his
vaguely serpentine face. Glancing over, I caught an odd look in Bob’s face. It was a
combination of confusion and resignation, with a hint of loathing thrown in. Whatever was
going on, there was considerably more to it than simply being old friends.
Stepping forward again, Bob looked at both Elle and I. “The two of you are free for the
night. I will need to speak with you both in my office around 10 in the morning.” Turning his
gaze on Elle, he stressed, “You will be there, Elle. No excuses.”
Rolling her eyes, she sighed and left the ward. She was followed by Bob and Linderman,
who headed toward his office. Minutes later, I was at the door to my on campus apartment.
My specific abilities, although much preferable to the majority of other abilities I’ve
encountered, occasionally call for special precautions. The walls of my apartment are all six
inches thick, and filled with layers of sound proofing. It is also completely airtight. The
entrance is a two-door airlock system. You input a six digit code in the hall, and the system
sets up a positive pressure entrance. When it’s ready, no more than a couple seconds after
inputting the code, you open the first door and walk in. Once you close the first door, the
pressures equalize and you can open the second one, entering the apartment. The end
result is that no stray sounds or smells come in unless I bring them.
Or, at least authorize them. As I turned on my music, I realized I wasn’t alone. “Who’s that?”
Straightening, I laughed. “It’s the London Philharmonic, Elle. I got a recording of them
doing Chopin.”
“You realize that you have shit taste in music, don’t you?”
Turning around, I shook my head. “Did you sneak in just for the privilege of insulting my
music?”
Letting the robe she was wearing pool around her feet, she smiled. “What do you think?”
Stripping out of my clothing, I walked over to her. Taking her chin in one hand, I tilted her
head up to meet mine as our lips pressed together. Running my hands along her body, her
breathing grew heavier, and she began to quietly moan in excitement, as the petting grew
heavier and more intense. Breaking it off with a slight jolt to my lips, she dragged me to the
floor. As she mounted me, our bodies joined in a violent passion that obliterated all
thought.
Chapter 1: Cry Havoc
By Chris Ward
February 25, 2007; Los Angeles, California
The first thing I became aware of was is the distinct smell of blood. That coppery scent
could belong to nothing else. More to the point, this was definitely blood taken from the
prisoner, Adam Monroe. I think I’ve been here before.
Putting aside the blood scent, as it was pumped into my arm, I located two people nearby.
Given my specific abilities, scent is a much stronger, and much more reliable, identifier
than sight. The first member of my audience carries the subtle scent of gold. Robert “Call
Me Bob” Bishop, my boss, is the living definition of morally grey; whatever needs done
gets done. Along with being my boss, his ability allows him to be one of the primary
financial backers of the Organization.
The other scent carries with it the tang of burnt ozone, obviously belonging to the
beautiful and deadly Elle Bishop, the boss’s daughter. This hyper-sexed little vixen has the
ability to generate massive amounts of electricity, and revels in it. Unlike her old man, the
minx doesn’t waste time being morally grey. Her moral code runs pure black. Sort of like me.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the ceiling until they focused. A couple of seconds later, less
than a minute after awaking, I looked around the room. I was right, I’ve been here before.
The only object providing any color to the medical ward is the half empty bag of blood
hanging from a nearby IV. Bob and Elle both stood against the far wall.
When he saw my gaze fall on him, Bob pushed away from the wall and walked toward my
right side. Ignoring him for a second, I let my gaze fall on Elle. Her scent informed me she
was aroused, which was unsurprising since she spends most of her time around me in that
state. With her father still facing away, she ran her finger along her inner thigh before
biting it with a coquettish smile.
Feeling Bob remove the IV and restraints, I sat up and watched the needle hole slowly fill
in as my limited healing ability repaired the damage. Scratching the back of my neck, I
looked at the bag. “Figured out how to use Liquid Adam to boost my healing yet? I’m tired
of these visits every time a mission doesn’t go according to plan.” My voice, a low and
menacing growl at the best of times, sounded worse still after being unused for better than
a day.
Shrugging, Bob took the bag over to the cooler and placed it with the other bags. “Not yet,
although we are still looking.” Turning back around, he removed his glasses and cleaned
them. While doing so, he cocked an eye toward me. “Now; I was hoping you could tell me
what went wrong?”
Ignoring him, I glanced back at Elle. “My kit?”
Shrugging at the exasperated look in Bob’s face, she sauntered to a nearby cabinet and
pulled out three small bags. Tossing them over, she laughed. “I had to get into your room
to get the clothing. What you wore on the mission was simply destroyed.”
I opened the lightest one first, since it was the one that held my clothes. I could hear Elle’s
quiet sounds of appreciation, her scent making it even more obvious that she wanted to
jump me right there, as I stripped off the brief medical gown. Grinning slightly, I deliberately
faced her as I slid into the clothing. The outfit she had packed was my normal wear, black
jeans, a black tee shirt, and combat boots; perfect for blending in just about anywhere.
Tossing the empty bag aside, I opened the second. Slipping into the customized duster, I
also put on the Ray-Bans and half gloves. Sitting back on the bed, I opened the last bag and
began checking my weapons. “What did you want?”
Controlling his temper, he repeated the question. “I’d like your report on what went
wrong.”
Shrugging, I laughed. “Didn’t you debrief your human sparkler?”
“Let’s just say I prefer as much information as possible.”
“Whatever.”
**********
February 23, 2003; Central Michigan
Hunkered down in the middle of a forest keeping an eye on an armored compound is not
my idea of a good time. Even less when it’s pouring down rain, cutting even my field of
vision and auditory range. Tapping the button on my headset, I whispered into the mike.
“You in position?”
The disgruntled voice on the other end came back almost immediately. “I’m in place, and I’
m wet.” After another second, she said, “I didn’t mean it that way, Havoc! I’m soaked to the
bone. If I so much as spark right now it’ll sting like a bitch!”
“Thus the guns, princess.”
I could almost hear her eyes roll. “Daddy doesn’t want us to kill the guy. He must’ve told
me that a half dozen times.”
“So shoot to maim. Anyway, Bob isn’t an ops guy, sweet tits. It always comes down to
bullets and blood.”
“Why are we here, anyway?”
“You were at the same briefing I was, Elle.”
“And?”
Scanning the area as best I could, I quietly dropped from my tree and sprinted to another
with better range. “There’s a guy here, Gregory Tripp, who communicates with and controls
animals. He used to be Organization, until he abandoned his post and vanished several
years back. From what the files said, it happened around the time Kaito and Pratt threw
Adam into his cell. He didn’t retire; he just vanished and started his own private army out
here.”
“Again, why are we here? You know as well as I do, Havoc, we’re fucking clean up. Daddy
only uses us when the regular Bag/Tag teams fail.”
“And they did. Spectacularly. Turns out this guy has recruited some tough norms and
specials. He’s apparently decided that he wants to take over the Organization and run it his
way, whatever way that is. Anyway, after Bob decided it was time to grab Tripp, he sent in
several teams.”
“How many?”
“Didn’t you read that damn file?”
“What do you think?”
Of course she hadn’t read the file. She never read the damned files “Three teams went in.
They all came back in pieces. That’s when Bob decided it was our turn.”
“He wants this guy alive?”
“Beast Master comes back alive, although I suspect that won’t last long. Boss man could
give a damn about anyone else.” Scanning the area again, I saw one of the compound’s
doors swing open as three men came out. “I’ve got movement. Anything on your end?”
After a moment’s pause, she said, “Yeah. Looks like three or four going into the bunker.
Shift change maybe?”
“Could be. Is Tripp with your group?”
“No. Yours?”
I watched my targets head into the barracks. “The same. He might be in the barracks, but
probably the bunker.”
“He’ll be easier to grab without backup.” That’s what I love about her. She’s got a great
rack and a perfect ass, and the sex is phenomenal, but that pales next to her passionate
lust for carnage and destruction.
“True enough. If you find him, secure him; otherwise, unleash hell.” Breaking contact, I
dropped from the tree and sprinted to the barracks. Keeping an eye on the bunker in case
someone emerged, my pulse began to pound while my breath quickened with excitement.
With a series of acrobatic leaps, I mounted the roof. Extending my senses to their utmost, I
padded across the roof until finding myself over a room that sounded empty. Hanging
headfirst from the roof, I confirmed that the room was empty. Dropping to the ground and
pulling out a burglar tool, I snapped the window’s latch and slipped into the room.
Closing the window, I pressed against the wall near the door. Sensing nobody in the hall, I
cracked open the door and slunk out. The eyes, even mine, are the most easily deceived of
the senses, so I closed them and stretched out with my ears and nose as I worked down
the hall. Empty room followed empty room.
Suddenly, I sensed people. Stopping in my tracks, I stretched my senses until locating five
men two doors ahead of me. Sliding the snake camera from its pouch in my sleeve, I
sprinted the distance and crouched beside the door. Sliding the snake under the door, I
got a look at the men inside. With a grin full of blood lust, I saw that Tripp was absent.
Putting the camera away, I put together a quick plan. Deciding that guns would be too loud
this early, I pulled my prize weapons from their sheaths inside my coat. Two sets of five
claws, designed to fit over each finger and thumb. Molded out of metal, they retained the
flexibility needed for digits, yet were sharp and strong enough to shred flesh and bone,
and fastened in place with metal studs in my gloves. With a furious shout, I smashed
through the door.
Three of the men were playing poker at a small table in the center of the room, while the
other two were in bunks. The sleepers died first, throats torn out before they even knew I
was present. The poker players scattered. Two of them ducked into the weapons closet
while the third attempted to keep me busy.
When he threw a roundhouse kick, I couldn’t contain a laugh. Catching the foot he
obligingly provided, I snapped his ankle and leg like twigs. Dropping him to the floor, I
watched him roll around in agony. “Oops.”
In a profoundly contemptuous gesture, I drove my heel through his chest, pulverizing the
ribcage and crushing his heart. Looking back up at the sound of weapons being cocked, I
found myself staring down the barrels of twin Magnums as the survivors reentered the
main room. Knowing damn well what was coming, I leapt toward them with a roar. Even as I
felt the bullets burn into me, I slammed my clawed fingers into their skulls, shredding brain
tissue as I ripped my hands to the sides, tearing open the skulls.
Grunting in pain, I cleaned the claws and put them away. Gently working my fingers along
my chest and sides, I found where four bullets had entered. Luckily, no major organs or
arteries had been hit. The bleeding was already slowing, and would likely stop within the
next few minutes, but the wounds would remain for several hours. If I had to be blessed
with a healing factor, why the hell couldn’t it have been one like Adam’s?
Exiting the room, I made my cautious way the halls. After three more visits I had a total of
fifteen kills, and another half dozen bullets scattered throughout my body. It hurt like hell,
so my mood was deteriorating with every step. Once my area was completely uninhabited, I
contacted Elle. “Nothing’s movin’ here, girl. Find him?”
“I persuaded one of my guys to talk before he died. Tripp’s in the main bunker.”
“Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”
Shortly thereafter, we met up outside the bunker. Before we had a chance to say anything,
we were both grabbed by the back of the neck. One heart pumping, stomach churning
instant later we were on the floor inside the bunker.
“Who has Bishop sent this time?” The cultured voice came from behind me. My nose told
me we had found the target; he smelled like the animals he controlled and communicated
with. Looking up from the floor, I found myself staring into the muzzle of a snarling timber
wolf. Glancing to the side, I saw Elle in a similar situation.
Rolling slowly to my back, careful to make no move toward my weapons, I sat up and faced
Tripp. “He sent me.”
Nodding appreciatively toward Elle, whose every curve was clearly visible through her
drenched clothing, he said, “And her?”
“You were with the Company, jack ass, you know the deal. The teams are always one and
one. Since I’m the one carrying better than half a dozen chunks of lead, and still have the
ability as well as the intense desire to rip your fucking head off, that makes her the normal.”
“Perhaps.” Getting to his feet, he prodded Elle with one foot. “On the other hand, it was de
rigueur in my day for the Spec to let the Norm take the lead, frequently pretending to be the
Norm.”
Making a snap decision, I leapt to my feet with a shout. Grabbing the timber wolf in both
hands, I let his teeth and claws shred my exposed flesh as I exerted every ounce of my
strength. His back broke with a snap and I ripped him in half. Dumping the pieces on the
floor, I wiped the blood from my eye and growled out, “Any questions?”
He seemed at a loss for words as he stared at his unexpectedly dead wolf. After several
minutes, he looked back at me appraisingly. “Enhanced strength and, I assume, regen? I
could use you.”
With his focus off her, Elle glanced at me and grinned. Drawing the attention of Tripp as
well as the six other men in the room, she stripped as she stood to her feet. After running
her fingers through her hair, she deliberately drew a deep breath as she placed her hands
at the small of her back and stretched sinuously backwards. Rolling her head to the side,
she emitted a playful giggle. “Does anyone have a towel?” Throwing a smoldering look at
Tripp, she ran a hand up her thigh. “I’m all wet.”
Nodding at one of the men drooling over her, Tripp said, “Do it.”
As the assembly spent the next several minutes entirely focused on the gyrations as she
dried every inch of her body, I slowly pulled a pair of knives from the small of my back.
Keeping them concealed, I slipped over to one of the guys near Elle.
Catching my eye, she nodded fractionally before spinning around and grabbing the
nearest man. As she drew him into a deep kiss, she allowed his hands to explore her body.
Keeping one hand clasped on the back of his neck, she ran the other one enticingly down
his chest to his waist.
As her hand vanished into his jeans and began a stroking motion, I whispered into my
target’s ear, “This is really gonna hurt.”
The man who had been under the impression that he was about to get lucky arched back,
screaming in agony, as Elle unloaded better than twenty thousand volts through his balls.
Immediately withdrawing her hand from his smoking trousers, she spun around and threw
balls of electricity at two nearby targets. At the same instant, I drove one of my blades into
the back of my target’s skull and spun around, dropping to one knee, to fling the other
blade into a nearby chest.
Even as I leapt at the final man, closing my fist around his throat, the remaining timber wolf
ripped into my thigh. Feeling my life’s blood draining from the severed artery, I crushed my
targets throat and screamed for Elle to fry the wolf. I felt the heat from her discharge rip
him from my leg even as I rolled over and grappled for a gun. As consciousness fled, I
sighted down the barrel and obliterated Tripp’s left eye.
**********
February 25, 2003; Los Angeles, California
“In other words, despite my explicit orders, you killed him?”
“Well, gee whiz Bob, I just sorta decided, ya know, to hell with orders; just this once.”
Slamming my final gun into place, I jumped to my feet. “Christ, I was fucking dying, all right?
Elle’s in pretty damn good shape, but there’s no way in hell she could haul my dead weight
ass while corralling that fucking Beast Master. I made a split second decision to solve that
problem.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want excuses, Michael. You fucked up the mission.”
Screaming into his face, I said, “Fuck off, Bob! If you really want him so fucking bad, go get
him, give him Essence of Adam, and do whatever the fuck you want with him!”
“I’m afraid that option is closed to us, my feral young friend.” Spinning around at the
unknown voice, hands darting inside my duster for knives, I found myself staring at a
polished, urbane gentleman who seemed to be in his fifties or sixties. His identifying odor
was overlaid by an unusually healthy, nearly antiseptic scent. With a smiling nod toward
Elle, he said, “This charming young lady followed standard procedure and used her special
gift to erase any evidence that either of you had been there. Unfortunately, in her zeal she
made it impossible for us to revive Gregory Tripp.”
Shrugging, with a vastly insincere smile, she said, “Oops.”
“Great. Now who the fuck're you?”
Bob stepped forward and barked out, “Michael! Back down!”
Waving him off, the white haired stranger shook his head slightly and said, “That’s quite all
right, Robert.” Extending his hand to me, he smiled again. “My name is Daniel Linderman. I’
m an old friend and former partner of Mr. Bishop’s.”
Quickly but cautiously shaking the proffered hand, I caught a brief glimmer oft in his
vaguely serpentine face. Glancing over, I caught an odd look in Bob’s face. It was a
combination of confusion and resignation, with a hint of loathing thrown in. Whatever was
going on, there was considerably more to it than simply being old friends.
Stepping forward again, Bob looked at both Elle and I. “The two of you are free for the
night. I will need to speak with you both in my office around 10 in the morning.” Turning his
gaze on Elle, he stressed, “You will be there, Elle. No excuses.”
Rolling her eyes, she sighed and left the ward. She was followed by Bob and Linderman,
who headed toward his office. Minutes later, I was at the door to my on campus apartment.
My specific abilities, although much preferable to the majority of other abilities I’ve
encountered, occasionally call for special precautions. The walls of my apartment are all six
inches thick, and filled with layers of sound proofing. It is also completely airtight. The
entrance is a two-door airlock system. You input a six digit code in the hall, and the system
sets up a positive pressure entrance. When it’s ready, no more than a couple seconds after
inputting the code, you open the first door and walk in. Once you close the first door, the
pressures equalize and you can open the second one, entering the apartment. The end
result is that no stray sounds or smells come in unless I bring them.
Or, at least authorize them. As I turned on my music, I realized I wasn’t alone. “Who’s that?”
Straightening, I laughed. “It’s the London Philharmonic, Elle. I got a recording of them
doing Chopin.”
“You realize that you have shit taste in music, don’t you?”
Turning around, I shook my head. “Did you sneak in just for the privilege of insulting my
music?”
Letting the robe she was wearing pool around her feet, she smiled. “What do you think?”
Stripping out of my clothing, I walked over to her. Taking her chin in one hand, I tilted her
head up to meet mine as our lips pressed together. Running my hands along her body, her
breathing grew heavier, and she began to quietly moan in excitement, as the petting grew
heavier and more intense. Breaking it off with a slight jolt to my lips, she dragged me to the
floor. As she mounted me, our bodies joined in a violent passion that obliterated all
thought.
