RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century (26 page)

Lana gasped again as Otto’s tongue flicked at her moistness, deeper, deeper…ever deeper. She started to writhe as he gripped her body close to his, her skin now electric with the sexual contact between them. “Oh God Otto, oh GOD, come on…FUCK ME!” She squealed as he hoisted her legs up and began his deep penetration, his thick, blood engorged penis ramming into her damp, moist chasm. “Keep going, keep…GOING!” Now her whole body writhed in sexual ecstasy as he gripped her hair. “What are you doing?” she muttered under her frenzied excitement, “Otto…what the hell?”

“TURN OVER,” he shouted, his strong hands gripping her roughly by the shoulders, pulling her over onto her stomach. It was the sheer brute force of the manipulation that took Lana Franke by surprise, Von Kurst’s arms pinning her head and neck into the pillow, her moans of pleasure now a series of grunts under the strain of the assault between her legs and the power of the man himself. He penetrated deeper, much deeper, now it was becoming painful, but she couldn’t tell him for her words were muffled, her face slammed deep into the pillow. She started to struggle as he pinned her arms between his, pushing his hands down onto her neck. She grunted again and again, her now sweating body bucking back and forth as she gasped for breath, her continued grunting set to the rhythm of her lover’s thrusting assault. But as the onslaught to her body continued, Lana Franke, for the first time in many years started to feel a hint of fear. Her thoughts raced through her mind at the intensity of the sexual offensive, it was as if her lover was using her to rid himself of violent emotions, using her body as a sexual battering ram. It was as if…no she thought, he wouldn’t, but it did feel like...he was raping her.  She squealed in pain, the muscles in her loins begging for mercy, her body bucking like a wild horse being broken by its master. She tried to turn her head towards the clock on the table. Quarter to one in the morning. MY GOD, she thought, OTTO, YOU’RE HURTING ME! She squealed again.

“SIXTY SECONDS!” Ash Piper acknowledged the information received through his helmet-mounted headset. Moving carefully, he readied himself by the large rear door of the Belgian Air Force C130 Hercules transport plane.

“Red Haze,” above the loud din inside the aircraft’s cargo hold Colonel Mann’s voice reverberated through Piper’s Com-link, “remember, recon only, no violence! Just follow your colleague’s instructions and get out as fast as you can. We will arrange retrieval as soon as you return to the drop point.”

“Affirmative Control.” The crewman next to him, wearing a thick, well padded flight suit, helmet and oxygen mask, raised the thumb of his gloved right hand.

It was the signal; they were ready to go!

Steadfastly, Piper stood a metre away from the forward ramp of the Hercules’ rear door and braced himself. Even above the droning of the aircraft’s four large propeller driven engines, a loud metallic sound surrounded the cargo bay of the C130. Just for a few seconds a rush of icy wind hammered into Piper’s black clad form, as, at a height of ten thousand metres, the rear ramp slowly began to descend. Piper swiftly glanced at the red light above him, then out into the cold night air.

“THIRTY SECONDS!”

Piper nodded. He was ready. Dressed in a black, specially insulated high altitude drop suit and gloves, with a High Altitude Low Opening parachute strapped to his back and his helmet and oxygen mask strapped tightly to his head and face, he prepared for the jump. Deftly, his hands moved across the front of his drop suit as he checked the special equipment carrier bag attached to him, and, at groin height, his reserve parachute. A low hissing sound penetrated his ears as oxygen pumped though his breathing apparatus, a cacophony of sound vibrating through the aircraft’s mainframe as the rear door finished lowering.

“GOOD LUCK!” shouted the airman as the red light changed to green. “GO, GO, GO!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation Piper leapt out into a cold black void, the din of the Hercules’ engines suddenly drifting away as the frozen night air hissed around him. He was outside in a void of blackness and hurtling towards the Ardennes forest like a speeding bullet. Even though Piper knew the dangers of HALO drops, he still enjoyed the thrill as his legs and arms spread out like a four tentacled octopus, steadying his downward wind speed. Not long now he thought as he carefully checked his altimeter.

Down he plummeted, ever onwards, nine thousand metres and falling, his breathing heavy with excitement and adrenaline, eight thousand metres…six thousand…three thousand…

With his thoughts racing, his concentration not leaving his altimeter, Piper prepared to brace himself for the massive jolt that would briefly assault his body upon deployment of his HALO chute. One thousand metres! Down below him, the cold dark outline of the forest could be clearly seen, for this had been a perfect night to drop. Three hundred metres and…Piper’s body jolted back as a massive rush of air left his lungs. The Automatic Parachute Deployment Device had worked perfectly. Now, amidst the darkness of night, with his black rectangular chute fully extended he began gliding towards the small clearing where he would land. One hundred metres!

With a gentle floating sensation enveloping his senses Piper began looking around, the hissing from his helmet mounted oxygen mask still ringing in his ears. As he slowly descended, over in the distance he viewed a floodlit horizon. The VKE warehouse complex, he thought. Suddenly, under the weight of the parachute’s canopy he dropped into the tree line, thick, heavy branches cracking above him as he landed with a soft thump on terra firma.

With a grunt Piper rolled forward then pulled himself up. As he swiftly unbuckled his HALO chute and removed his helmet and oxygen mask, he prepared to report through his Com-link. Meanwhile, high up above the City of Aachen and the Ardennes Forest, floating high above earth’s atmosphere, a NATO 3 communications satellite prepared to relay transmissions.

“Red Haze to Control, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear Red Haze.”

“Drop successful, bang on target, now going to night vision and preparing to move out, will report back asap.”

Colonel Mann replied, “understood Red Haze.”

Piper unbuckled the All-purpose Lightweight Individual Carrying Equipment bag strapped across the front of his body and rechecked its contents. The USP 45 SOCOM with Laser Aiming Module and Suppressor, a small rubber coated grappling hook with ten metres of ultra thin, toughened rope, wire cutters and his night vision/thermal headset. These were all Ash Piper required. After taking his bearings, Piper attached his NV headset over a black bandana covering his dark blonde hair, his face covertly covered with black camo paint. Within the blink of an eye, the forest came alive with an eerie green glow, the wolf inside his body listening to the sounds around him. His spine tingled as his senses reached out to the wildness, for now the wolf was in its natural environment. From seemingly out of nowhere, an owl flew across the broken branches and eerie calls invaded the night. The forest was alive, not just with its inhabitants, but with Piper as well. It was time to move he thought, stealthily and carefully…like a wolf on the hunt.

“Why were you so brutal with me Otto,” Lana Franke was angry, “I felt like I was being raped.”

There was no reply as Von Kurst’s naked form lay on silken sheets. Slight traces of blood slowly seeped through small incisions on his upper torso as he slowly wiped his right hand across the wounds on his hairy chest, licking the blood from his fingers.

Lana sat up, the bed sheets sliding from her sensual, naked form. She walked across the large bedroom to a stainless steel tray.

“You pierced me deeply tonight Lana, far deeper than you normally do.” The beautiful, sexual physician was sweating and a little breathless as Von Kurst spoke menacingly. “It’s not that I mind my dear, far from it.” Still apparently seething with anger, Lana returned with a small packet of surgical wipes, which she proceeded to open, her eyes looking defiantly into Von Kurst’s. “Are you still angry with me?” he said, in a hushed tone.

Lana gazed attentively at the man who had changed her life. “No Otto,” she sighed, the look in her eyes changing, “not now, but you seem to be different, as if…” she paused, leaning over the muscular, slightly bloodied form lying next to her, whilst running one of the wipes across the wounds on his chest, “as if…you are withholding something from me.”

Von Kurst sat up, turned his face to hers and ran his tongue across her cheek, then her lips. “I am not hiding anything from you, so relax.” Gently, she continued to wipe the faint trickles of blood from the wounds caused by her small, sharp needles. Von Kurst spoke again, “your medical skills are always so welcome my beautiful tormentor, so very…very welcome.”

There was definitely something wrong thought Von Kurst’s mistress, something terribly wrong. “Otto,” her voice became a whisper, “please tell me what is the matter. You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Perhaps I have Lana,” Von Kurst turned onto his stomach as his mistress began massaging his powerful, muscular form, “perhaps I have.”

The sounds of the forest faded away as Piper moved from the final vestiges of its concealment and quietly knelt down by a large brick and concrete wall.  “Red Haze to Control,” he whispered.

Colonel Mann replied, “go ahead.”

“I have arrived at location, now ready for operational instructions.” There was a slight pause and a low hissing sound of static in Piper’s earpiece, then a reply.

“Affirmative Red Haze, we are now passing you over to direct contact with your colleague.”

Piper smiled, he knew within seconds Nick Lucas would be talking to him, giving him precise instructions for the infiltration of the Von Kurst Electronics warehouse facility.

Lana Franke smiled to herself, her hands continuing to dexterously massage her lover, gently stroking and caressing his more sensitive areas. Otto was quiet, his eyes…closed. He was in deep thought, his mind concentrating on something, but what she thought? “Turn over,” her voice was sensuous as her hands continued to caress, revelling in the movement of firm muscle between her fingertips. Momentarily, she felt a deep love for the man she had just tortured, but her thoughts quickly drifted back to reality, dissolving the illusion. No, Lana Franke did not love Otto Von Kurst or anyone else…except herself. But she did care for him, that was the difference. Her eyes gazed down at the man, the human wolf, who had given her everything she could have wished for. Riches, glamour, excitement, and… pleasure. Lana smiled openly, her tongue running across her moist lips. “Otto,” she asked, quietly.

“Yes,” his voice was sleepy.

“Why have Jurgen and Fritz left the Castle? I thought they were staying, surely their talents will still be required once the grenadiers strike again.”

Again, a sleepy voice replied. “There was no need for them to stay, besides, they required their wild forms again,” he laughed quietly, “and who can blame them.”

“So, where will they go this time?”

“They will find their wild cousins in the forested areas of Europe, just as they always have,” another hesitant pause from Von Kurst left his mistress quietly thinking to herself, “they will return Lana, when the time is right.”

“Jurgen and Fritz are,” she hesitated, “like brothers to you…aren’t they?”

The question took Von Kurst by surprise. He opened his eyes. “Falck and Kempler are men of honour and courage. Yes, in many ways I feel like they are my brothers, ever since my father introduced me to them many years ago. Ha!” He smiled, “when I was a child I used to call them Uncle Jurgen and Uncle Fritz.” He closed his eyes again.

“Did they visit your family often?” Lana was intrigued, ever since she had discovered the truth about Otto and his kind, The Were had always fascinated her.

“Only before the hunt!” Von Kurst opened his eyes again as Lana leaned over him, gently kissing his forehead.

“Time to sleep,” she whispered.

“Well,” Charles Mann turned and stared at Commander Hertschell and Jeanette Descard, “here we go.” There was no reply from either of them as tension mounted in the CEATA Communications Room.

As always, Nick Lucas sat at the large screen in front of him and his CEATA colleagues, the screen itself having been split horizontally into two separate views, one from Piper’s night vision headset the other from the overhead satellite. “Okay Red Haze,” Nick’s voice was surprisingly calm, but assertive, “the two security guards located at the rear corners of Building Four are still in their positions, so I suggest you get over that wall. I’ll let you know if there’s any change, go for it!”

“Affirmative.” Quickly, Piper produced the small grapple and pressed a button on its side. Four small rubber coated metal rods immediately extended from the side of the device. Quietly stepping back, Piper slackened the attached, thin climbing rope and started to swing the grapple in a circle. He looked up at the top of the warehouse facility’s perimeter wall and let loose, the grapple flying upwards and over. There was a soft thump and Piper pulled the rope backwards, the grapple rods connecting with the side of the brickwork. He pulled firmly on the rope, gripping it tightly in his gloved hands, then started to climb.

“There he goes,” said Jean-Paul who, like his colleagues, watched the scenes unfolding in front of him with bated breath, the horizontal split screen giving a perfect, almost surreal viewpoint of Piper’s infiltration as he continued to climb, slowly but surely.