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Chapter 2
Supreme Commander Boris Romanov
Yuri’s office
The Kremlin, Moscow
1210 hours local
“You seriously expect me to believe this bullshit, Yuri!?” I yelled.
Yuri went looked around inside his desk, pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured us each a glass. We each drained it in one
gulp, (as is the proper way to drink vodka.) before he continued.
“Comrade Commander, I’m telling you the truth. The two of them-”
I cut him off and said: “wait just one damn minute, since when are there TWO werewolves in our base?!”
“That Elena Michaels woman Yuri said. “She is also a werewolf. In fact, she’s the only female werewolf of
that universe. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask them yourself?”
I sighed, and left Yuri’s office. I went into my own office and started to fill the paperwork that was accumulating
on my desk. Once I got it to a reasonably small pile, I called my aide, who in turn called Bird Dog and Elena to my office.
Bird Dog was fixed at attention, his eyes locked on a spot of the wood paneling somewhere behind my left shoulder. Elena looked
slightly confused and sat down.
“Captain Roy,” I said. “Have a seat.” He hesitated, and then sat down.
“Sir, I can explain this,” Bird Dog said. He started to explain. At least until Elena jabbed him in the gut with
her elbow.
Bird Dog seemed to ignore me and said to Elena: “they’re going to find out sooner or later. It would be better
if they heard it from an officer first then to find out for themselves.”
After an inner struggle within her, she let him continue. After he was finished, I said: “very well, I will allow you
two to walk around the base. Elena, you will need to take this.” I pulled out a security Level One key card. “That
will get you into the declassified areas of this base.”
Captain “Bird Dog” Roy
Vladimir Air Force Base
1835 hours
My heart sank as I entered my quarters. A woman was sitting on my bed waiting for me. She had shoulder-length jet black hair,
and was wearing, like most pilots, a drab olive colour flight suit. I knew this woman. This was Sarah Nakano, ‘Tomboy’
to her squadron-mates, and a deep personal friend of mine. I had known her since War Collage in Erusia when I was first starting
to fly and I had started to develop feelings for her. She was rotated to my squadron as a replacement for Yellow 4 when she
was shot down and killed by Mobius 1 over Stonehenge.
She didn’t look particularly pleased to see me.
“Tomboy, what are you doing here?” I said, slightly alarmed at seeing her there.
“I want to talk to you, Bird Dog.” She said. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!? You get shot
down, and then spend months god-knows-where, and then you tell the Commander you quit the Air Force!?”
A passing corpsman knocked on the door and told us to keep it down in there. She lowered her voice to normal speaking tones.
“Look, Tomboy, I haven’t quit the Air Force. At least, not yet. But something came up when I was shot down. It
wasn’t that I lost the edge, but it’s something else. I take it the Commander hasn’t told you yet?”
She shook her head.
I sighed; this was going to be difficult for me and her. I rolled up my left shirt sleeve to expose the bite scar where the
Mutt had taken a bite out of me and turned me into a werewolf shortly afterwards.
“That’s it?” Tomboy asked in disbelief. “One little dog bite and you stay grounded for months? I mean,
I know you can’t stand to be attacked on the ground, but one little bite? Come on!”
“Tomboy, I’m going to show you something, but you have to promise me that you won’t scream.”
She looked at me, confused then said: “what’s going on, Bird Dog?”
I then did a Pack trick: Changing only one part of our body, In this case, my left arm. I wasn’t perfect at it yet,
but I knew how to do it.
As my arm changed, Tomboy was simply staring at it, not believing what she was seeing. Before I became a werewolf, I generally
sucked at sensing people’s emotions. A major reason for that is because when flying in combat, you need to put all emotions
away, as well as everything else not connected with the mission. Now that I was a werewolf, emotions where practically laid
bare to me, and at the moment, Tomboy’s was terrified, even if she didn’t show it.
As soon as my arm was fully wolf, I Changed it back, and said: “that’s what happened to me. I was, as crazy as
this sounds, bitten by a werewolf.” And I begun to explain what happened. When I was done, she looked on the verge of
passing out, screaming at the top of her lungs, or somehow, both at the same time.
She didn’t do any of those things. Instead, she stood up and picked up a model of an SU-37, replaced it, and looked
at me with a trace of loss in her eyes.
“You know Tomboy, if you want to end our relationship here, I’ll understand.”
She walked over to me, hugged and whispered: “other couples have worse problems. I think we can make this work.”
“Thanks,” I whispered back.
There are some things about my wolf nature that I simply can’t fight. (A few of those things somehow though got meshed
into my military life. I guess because they’re so similar.) Relationships are one of those things. Hereditary werewolves
can somehow fight off that particular instinct, but for Clay, Elena and me, the instinct is simply too strong to fight.
You see, wolves are normally monogamous, meaning they have only one mate for life. I loved her, but nothing could prepare
either of us for what was fast approaching, even though neither of us knew it.
Chapter Three
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