“So it was in the metadata all along?” Marcus asked.
General Adam Knox chose his words wisely as he stood before the pack of Roman wolves.
“Yes and no,” the dark gray soldier replied. “What’s there are keys to this puzzle box you all found yourselves within. What you and Jovian unlocked–and God only knows how–were the layers of programming intended for the super-soldier program. Since they weren’t fully activated, certain elements weren’t wiped. Includes details such as prospective deployment dates, times… and these.”
Two multi-number strands flashed on the screen, digits shuffling and cycling.
“We’re trying to decrypt these using every system on the books. And if we’re lucky, we may finally have your coordinates. For both the physical location and the Second Plane. These were among the files earmarked for the broadcasting displays, and if they are what we think they are, they were likely part of the geo-tracking used to show the home viewing audience where the fighter was in the Colosseum.”
“And you’re absolutely certain of this?” Valentina pressed.
“I’m not. But any lead’s a good lead at this stage. We’ll also see if we can match anything from that honey-pot beneath Níyol, namely the doomsday clock she set up for all those metal pups of hers. That said, you’ll still have to wait for our go-ahead. I want to have our hounds ready and raring to go before we send anyone ahead to clear the way.”
The restriction still bristled her, but Valentina let the tension go with a deep breath and a gentle nod. “Understood. We’ll be standing by.”
The rest of the Pack were surprised by the cool-headed response. Everyone, safe for Brennus, who simply held his lover’s hand and smiled reassuringly.
The wait left the team with ample free time and plenty of ways to spend it on base. Her two warrior souls, Marcus and Jovian, spent their hours in cultivation. Long stretches of meditation between bouts of training. Sabina would join them on occasion, be it as cheerleader or sparring partner. She would often shame Marcus in the game of marksmanship, rewarding him handsomely once he finally beat her. Brennus and Val–when they weren’t talking logistics with Knox–would relax as best they could; visiting on occasion when Eric was in town. He still had a shop to keep up and that meant he couldn’t be hanging around base long.
It was during the quiet hours that Val would often find her mind wandering, occasionally dozing off when there wasn’t anything pressing. And in those few hours of sleep, she’d find herself in some surprising company.
Sitting on the window sill in his tatters and rags, looking over the courtyard, was the wayward soul of her ride. The dark gray wolf with the white stripe down his muzzle, always dressed for the worst the desert could throw, and always booming in his rich, English baritone.
“Well you’re taking things well,” he smiled, fixing his flat-top cowboy hat.
“Any reason I shouldn’t?” Val replied, eyes still closed.
“Just taking your temperature m’dear. You were awful high-strung this past fortnight.”
“That was then, this is now.” The white wolf replied, straightening up in the bed. When she looked him over, she could see a band of white gauze around his arm.
“Everything alright?” he asked before noticing what she was looking at. “Oh that, it’s nothing. But a scratch in the line of duty.”
“Anything I need to check on when I stop dreaming you up?”
The spirit shook his head. “If I ever went wrong, you’d be the first to know.”
“Well,” she began, a teasing smile splitting her muzzle, “want me to make sure?”
“Darling, I’d hate to think what your man would say if he saw you gyrating with the air.”
“I just meant going for a drive,” she replied, crossing the room. “Besides, I don’t know what impropriety that would fall under, cradle-robbing or bestiality.”
The dark spirit laughed as he shook his head. “You and that black wit of yours, same as your father before you.”
“So how ‘bout it?” Val pressed.
“Oh alright,” he relented. “Just be wary of the day.”
“Why?”
“Change is in the air.”
With that, she woke up. The white wolven country girl looked again to the window, only to find it empty. She shook her head before heading for the door. “Just wish you’d finish your damn thoughts before I wake up.”
Regardless, she made her way down to the garage, procured her keys, and found the beige Humvee resting in his spot. Before she clambered into his cab, she stopped for a moment and with a wry smirk, popped a kiss on his hood.
“Just a little something between friends, don’t get any ideas!”
She took the engine’s rather bemused roar upon the key’s twisting as an affirmation. Val patted the wheel, backed the mighty machine out of his spot, bolted up the ramp, through the courtyard, and out the front gates, racing into the desert. Thinking nothing of it, she pointed him west and made tracks for Eric’s garage. It felt as good an idea as any, and she knew he wouldn’t mind the company, even if it was just to lend him a wrench while he was under someone’s Cadillac.
The white wolf found the drive a shade more pleasant than usual. The thrust of the accelerator felt smoother, the steering flowed better.
“Someone tune you up on me?” she asked aloud. She half-expected the Humvee’s wolven visage to take up shop in the passenger seat beside her, but fortunately for her sanity, he never arrived. The only reply she got was the consistent, reliable roar of his engine and the needle holding at a steady 70 miles an hour.
In no time at all, she could see that humble garage peering over the horizon, and shortly thereafter, was parked right alongside Eric’s cherry-red Apache pickup. The old girl’s bumper was curled slightly, as if to greet the duo with a smile.
“Love ya too,” she grinned, popping another kiss on the pickup’s hood.
When she knocked on the door, she heard Eric jolt up, but couldn’t see much through the drawn blinds.
“Just a friendly visit, no business.” Val said.
“Just a sec,” came the red mechanic’s reply. It took him nearly a minute before he finally opened the door. “Sorry ‘bout the hol’ up. Power-napped on my legs so good they fell asleep on me. Almost fell off the bed and hit a Jackie Wilson split. Bad news at my age.”
“Oh you ain’t that old.” Val teased. “Got a little coffee left over? Came outta catnap myself back at Base.”
Eric waved her in and pointed at the piping-hot coffee machine, still half-a-vat strong. She got to fixing herself a cup as Eric took a seat on the bed.
“Funny you rocked up when you did,” he smiled. “Been wanting to chat with you about something. Just a little history is all.”
“I’m all ears.” Val replied, taking her first sip.
Before he could say a word, a furious beeping came ringing through the office, followed by the deep twang of a Hell Patrolman.
“OFFICER STEWART TO E. MANN, COME IN E. MANN.”
Eric bolted to the radio set on his desk. “E. Mann, reading you loud and clear.”
“HOSTAGE SITUATION IN PROGRESS AT WILLBROOK MARSH. NEED YOU TO TALK ‘EM DOWN. NO ONE CAN GET A SHOT ON THIS GUY. HE’S GOT A LIGHT GRAY PUP, NO OLDER THAN 14. FELLA’S OFF HIS HEAD.”
Eric paused and turned to Val who looked worried.
“I think I got a gal who can make the shot if we can’t take him in peaceful. O and O.”
He hung up, snapped up his keys, and holstered his Desert Eagle before waving Val on. “Get your Mars and a lid for that mug.”
She did just as she was told, piling into red wolf’s Chevy as they hightailed it for Willbrook Marsh. It was one of the few naturally occurring bodies of water in the desert, marked by the barely-standing remains of an old barn.
When Eric pulled up behind the circle of Hell Patrol cars and trucks surrounding the area, he spotted Officer Tony Stewart: a towering black wolf clad in denim with a bullhorn in hand.
“I’ll take cover behind the barn,” Eric whispered. “If he doesn’t see reason, I think I can pull enough of a distraction to give Val here a shot at clocking him.”
Without a second to lose, the elder red wolf made his way to the barn and did what he could.
“What’s the matter, son?” he shouted. “What’s happening?”
At first there was no response. The hostage-taker was a black wolf, several shades darker than Officer Stewart, with cracked glasses and a revolver that could drop the moon. Held tight under his arms was his hostage, the young gray passed out and ready to be whipped up as a meat shield for anyone who got close.
“Don’t mind these loonies,” Eric continued. “You know Hell Patrol, they’re a little too gung-ho. Watcha want?”
Still no word. He only stared dead ahead, eyes wide and breath heavy. Be it a trance or blind bull rage, he wasn’t responding.
“Is it money? A ride? I gotta know what to get ya so I can help ya.”
Still no response.
“Bud, if you need a getaway, I’ll drive ya myself, but I gotta know what you want. That way you get what you want, that boy can get on home, we all leave here happy.”
Still nothing, the hostage-taker dead-eyeing the desert air.
Eric shook his head in disappointment. He looked over to Val and mouthed “no matter what happens, get him.”
She cocked an eyebrow at first before nodding and making her way to the nearest vantage point. In this instance, a small hill covered in wilting high grass. It was still within range for her laser-cartridge, and within sight of Eric. When the elder red wolf saw the tips of his friend’s white ears, he gave her the nod.
“I’m coming out,” Eric said to the hostage taker.
Carefully, he peaked his left leg out from behind the barn. The moment he did, the black wolf opened fire. Eric went spinning as the crook drilled into his leg. He got off four shots before it was all over, Val landing a shot square in the head before bounding over the hill in horror.
“ERIC!” she cried, leaping over the blockade’s hoods. While the officers tended to the hostage, Val dropped to the ground, cradling her dear friend. She went to pull his mechanic shirt off and start dressing the wound when she felt the red wolf’s mighty hand stop her.
“Take another look at that leg,” he seethed.
When she did, she couldn’t believe it. Beneath the scorched denim and red fur, there was silver. Bloodied silver.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to ya about.”
She made sure everyone was present as Eric gave his explanation. Marcus, Sabina, Brennus and Jovian all stood in the red mechanic’s office as he began.
“Allow me to begin with what I can’t do.” he spoke plainly. “Can’t raise the dead, can’t heal the crippled, can’t turn water into wine.”
The Pack were too stunned by the sight of silver beneath the gash to laugh.
“Allow me to also clarify that how I got these wasn’t the same way any of you almost got it, or did in Jovian’s case. It wasn’t any more pleasant though. If I’d come out of the Colosseum like all of you, you’d have heard of it by now. While I was abducted, I got whisked straight to the labs. No pretenses, no ‘chance at glory.’ Just grab any ol’ rube and see what you can do too ‘em. Got my legs broken so they could try out their new prosthetics. Just like that. Guinea-pigged me through all sorts of shit. The big mistake they made was giving me a sort of micro-plasma generator. Let’s me do shit like this.”
Eric held his two hands opposite one another and with a single jolt, sent an arc of purple light from one hand to the other.
“Remember that nanobyte swarm from one of our dearly departed electric friends? Everyone up to their necks in dead bugs after one good zap?”
Marcus and Sabina’s jaws went slack. “Hot damn, that was you!?” Marcus gasped.
Eric nodded.
Val walked up to the red wolf. “Why the hell didn’t you say somethin’ sooner!?”
“To be blunt,” he smiled sheepishly. “Y’all had so much going on it was hard to get a word in edge-wise. Y’all dropping in my lap, one after the other over the course of a few years, trying to figure out how to solve your problems. Brennus just wanted peace of mind, Marcus couldn’t get any if you leveled the whole world. Young Jovian here had all sorts of things happening in ‘im, and then there’s you.” He rested a hand on the white wolf’s shoulder. “In some ways, wildest of the bunch. Not ‘cuz how I found you, but what you became. My all-American crusader against the bitch who did this to me. You’re gonna be the best damn revenge I can think of short of the Force’s final stand.”
The huntress flashed a faint smile, but was still too floored by it all. “Why don’t you use it more often?”
“Well I’m on my legs all the time, so there’s that.” he shrugged. “As for the extravagant bug-zapper, it’s cuz she’s on a limited supply. When I broke out of Haven, I didn’t exactly make time to learn how to undo everything on the spot. I did hear that the battery was finite. She don’t drain over time, just with each use, and there ain’t exactly an easy place to charge up. So one day, I’ll wake up wanting to swat a fly and I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. Besides, when you give a 20-something kid from the sticks lightening-hands, he don’t always make smart use of things at first.”
“You haven’t–”
“Taken life with these?” he finished. “Only if they deserved it. Namely the asshole who bagged me first. From then on, just bugs and anyone who tries to fuck with me, my folks, or my friends. Nah, the issue is trying not to use it all up for party tricks. Get me and Godred drunk enough, I’d start shooting beer cans off his porch for shits and giggles. Besides, if I didn’t know my hair-triggers for setting it off, imagine the amount of electrics I could short just working on rides?”
“Why you?” Sabina asked innocently, clinging to Marcus’s arm.
“Same reason as any of you,” Eric answered. “None. Just fair game in the never-ending war. I wasn’t alone there either. That’s the other reason I hung ‘round for you guys. Made sure those who did make it out got the best chance at life they could.”
Throughout it all, Jovian could only stand there, stunned. The shaggy-haired gladiator walked over to the red mechanic.
“Did they do anything... up here?” he asked, pointing to his head.
Eric rested a reassuring hand on the young gray’s shoulder. “I broke out before they could.” he smiled. “I’m still mortal just as any of ya. One day they’ll put me in the earth with all these ‘gifts’ of hers. But the experience did give me a whole lot to think about. It’s why I got down to brass tax on being mindful. I just needed it to process what I’d been through, same as all y’all. I wound up leading classes for anyone with shell shock in the Force. Old Man Godred kept me around when he found out not only was I sharp on therapy, but I was a goddamn good mechanic too. When Knox rocked up with that great big silver arm of his, Godred knew just who to ring to help him process it all.”
Val pulled the elder red wolf in tight. “For one,” she began. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. For two, how do you want that bandaged up?”
Eric thumbed the white wolf’s cheek and smiled. “I know, stunts like that aren’t easy to take either, even with a leg of lead. Don’t worry about it, she’ll grow back. Lemme get a fresh pair of pants out the drawer.”
“You can’t be serious?”
Eric nodded, rifling through his office dresser. “Yup. The neat quirk about this artificial fur is that it heals up pretty quick. It’s already regenerating as we speak.”
Sure enough, a thin veneer of fur began to crawl its way across the silver of the leg. Brennus cocked his head in amazement. “Wouldn’t that throw ‘heal the crippled’ out of your list of can-don’ts?” he quizzed out of curiosity.
“Well it would if I could zap somebody’s fur back over their body, now wouldn’t it?”
Point taken as the gray fighter sat back down on the office cot.
No sooner had the red mechanic swapped pants, but another buzz came over the radio unit. The mechanic snapped towards it and picked up the receiver.
“E. Mann here,” he answered. “How’s that kid?”
“Kid’s fine, how the hell are you?” came the bemused reply of Officer Stewart.
“Don’t worry, Val beat you to the chew-out. And fine, thank you. Do we know what jumped down that fella’s craw that set this whole thing off?”
“That’s the thing. I’m at the chop-shop now and I–ACK! ACK! AGGHH!”
“Tony? TONY!?”
There came no further reply, just the solitary click of the receiver hanging up on the other end.
“Everyone, saddle up,” Eric ordered. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on down there, but I don’t like the sound of it.”
The Pack bolted for the door and hopped into their respective rides, Eric following suit into his Apache before blazing his trail towards the chop-shop.
Half his head was gone, and yet the black-furred thug remained. He stood in the hallway of the morgue over the Hell Patrolman’s body as Eric and the Pack burst through the front door. When they saw the wires spilling out where the wolf’s right eye once sat, it all came clear.
“Android,” Eric scowled. “That tracks.”
He was met only with that same, vacant stare.
“Lemme finish him,” growled Val, pistol in hand.
Eric stayed her with an outstretched arm and a stern look. “Let me show you a little more of what these hands can do.”
When the metal wolf lunged towards the Pack, Eric threw himself on the staggering android. With both hands around its neck, fangs barred, he hit the machine with everything he had. The deafening buzz was that of a power transformer in a lightning storm, a dark magenta just piercing the gaps in his fingers. After a moment of struggle, the android collapsed on the floor, Eric dropping atop him.
“Make sure Tony’s still breathing,” he gasped. Marcus bolted for the black-furred cop while Val helped Eric up.
“Jesus, are you gonna be alright?” she asked.
“I’ll be... I’ll be just fine.” came the reply. “I just figured short-circuiting him would save us all some hurt. Besides, now we can pick the bastard’s brain properly. Least what’s left of it thanks to that hand cannon of yours.”
Fortunately, Officer Stewart was still alive. Marcus helped the cop up. Propped up between Eric and Val, he joined the Pack as they bolted back towards the red mechanic’s garage, the android’s body tied down in the truck bed. Once they arrived, its electronic brain was disassembled in short order, and just like so many before, was rigged up to the garage computer. And while he never gave anything away in life, the android’s death told all.
“Good Lord,” Eric gasped. “He wasn’t an android at all. He was a cyborg.”
A sinking feel filled each wolf’s gut, one consummated by the model name.
“Codename: Cassius. Model Name: Gladi-Con.” Val read aloud. “Con as in–”
“Conversion.” Jovian finished. “He was one of me. I don’t recognize the face, but that was the designation we were given.”
Eric turned to Stewart. “Do we have any idea why a Haven cyborg snapped that boy up?”
“Boy’s name was Aaron Quinn.” the officer replied. “Never saw the fella in his life. Lives in Oakley a couple miles away, was just out joyriding when he says the fella hitched a ride. Then tried to jump him, then ran to the marshland, but got caught. Said the fella was moving a million miles an hour on foot.”
“See if you dig any deeper,” Val pressed. Eric hammered away on the keyboard before getting their answer. It wasn’t pretty.
“Same as the Gladi-Models,” he answered. “They’re all in for the war effort as sleeper cells. But this fella’s specifically meant to target civvies, like the Gladi-Model in Sopwith.”
“Wait just a goddamn minute though,” Marcus cut in, the long-haired warrior pacing the room. “Think about the picture you’re painting. A gladiator from the ring hitches a ride with a stranger and tries to jump him. Think about the guy as you found him, arm wrapped tight in a choke-hold around the kid’s neck… the games ain’t over! Either this is some leftover programming, or he was gonna take that boy somewhere!”
With a few more tricks up his sleeve, Eric managed to get the destination.
“What the–he was gonna take him to Amarillo Mesa? What’s there that could–”
Val cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “I think we found another transfer station.”