Prologue

Lone Wolves

Prologue

 

“We’re here.” Said Winston prodding me with a paw. Winston Sykes was my new group supervisor and handler for my first day aboard the DEA’s Task Force 1. They had sent us to Columbia, Some city 1000 miles or so from the border. Our target, Victor Steele, leader of one of the most sinister and vicious coyote drug cartels on the entire eastern seaboard. As the chopper hovered over the favela, I cocked my M4A1 rifle and hooked up to slowly rappel down to the patch of pure brown earth. Our orders were to bring in the target alive and conscious, but I was taking absolutely no chances. I would do whatever was necessary to preserve the lives of those on my team and make sure that every single one of us made it back safe and sound. All was quiet in the village on the east side of the city. We received a few glares from some of the villagers, but no real trouble. I radioed in to my fellow agent and longtime friend, Norman Hutch who was leading a group of officers of the local Columbian Police Force on the other side of town. “Delta-three-two, report.” “Three-two. Go ahead.” “We’re at the east end of the village. No sign of activity.” “Roger, one-three. Work your way towards me and head with your team upwind into the plume.” “Roger that. We’re moving out now. Out.” We continued walking until we came up on a small café somewhere in the village square. Inside, a gruff male voice was barking out orders in Spanish to someone behind the counter. We slowly began to stack up on either side of the door and prepared to enter. Winston kicked it in and we quickly stormed inside. The coyotes sitting at the tables threw up their paws in confusion and surprise. I looked around. There was a small room in the back, probably where the restrooms were located. I cautiously approached the door and peeked inside. Empty. Suddenly, there was a small click-click from behind me. I turned around, only to be met with a silver 50 caliber desert eagle pistol aimed right at my head. A large, heavyset coyote was smirking at me like a chessie cat. His teeth were crooked razor blades and a long, jagged scar plagued the right side of his face. I stared deep into his piercing pale blue eyes. His voice was cold and maniacal as he spoke. “No sir, your eyes don’t deceive you. Unfortunately, I am the last thing you will ever see.” He pulled the trigger. To mine and his surprise however, the bullet never came. Instead, there was another small click. Somehow, the bullet had jammed itself in the chamber. Now was my chance. I cocked my paw back and belted him with one good right hook square in his jaw. That really pissed him off. I could almost see the flames in his eyes as he took a step forward and tried to swing back at me. I grabbed his fist with a quick paw and returned with another hard punch which sent him crashing to the floor. He staggered to his feet and was just about to make a break for the exit when I tackled him hard to the pavement outside. “Show’s over, dickwad!” I growled, snapping on the paw cuffs. Hutch and the Columbian police were just now coming around the corner. I called it in. “Command, this is Delta-one-three. Package is secure. We’re code 4. Over.” “Roger, one-three. The skies are clear for extraction. That’s one for the books eh rook?” I smiled. “Easy day, command. Solomon out.” We hauled our catch to his feet and made our way to the chopper, all of us still in one piece. My training day was complete. Or so it seemed.

 

1 year later,

May 31, 2020

Springfield, Virginia

 

1

 

The clock buzzed me awake like an angry hornet. I sat up, focused on the bold red digits. 6:40 AM. I groaned and made my way to the wardrobe across the room. Slipping on a black leather jacket and some pressed jeans, I retrieved my Sig Sauer P226 pistol from my footlocker and grabbed my badge off the nightstand. I laced up my black dress boots and headed out the back door to my silver Infinite, Pearle who welcomed me as I hopped in for the short drive to headquarters, located just downtown. I arrived at 7:04 AM right on the dot. However to my surprise, the place was quiet, damn near empty. There was a small scrap of paper on the door. On it, a note read, “Arty’s Bar at 8:15. Bring your best street clothes.” I got back in my car and gingerly drove down Old Keene Road. I arrived minutes later, about a minute and a half early. After ditching Pearle in the lot, I put on my jacket and casually stroll inside. Hutch motioned me over to a table in the back corner of the room. I took a seat next to him and in front of Winston in the booth. “So, Devil Dog, how ya holdin up?” He asked in greeting. “I’m holding my end just fine.” I replied. “Gotta say, you look pretty good yourself.” “Devil Dog” was my new nickname guys around the agency now called me after the previous endeavor in Columbia. I had earned this title because I was always putting my life on the line as the team’s “Point man” and willing to sacrifice any and all for my squad mates. They also said it was because I actually looked more dog than wolf. My fur was all light brown, almost red and really the only wolf feature that stood out were my pair of golden brown eyes that glistened like the setting sun when I looked in a mirror. Two minutes later, the waitress finally arrived with our drinks. I ordered just a coke with a small shot of brandy. I wasn’t really much of a heavy drinker so I always went soft. We held our glasses in the air and brought them together with a light cling. “To Devil Dog.” Said Winston. “To Devil Dog.” The both repeated in unison. I beamed with pride. I had never before felt so welcomed.

 

2

 

I got home around 4:13 PM after a long day of celebrating. It was now time to wind down and catch a few hours of rest for both the day and night. Soon enough, that all was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. I snatched it up and answered, “Yeah?” A deep malevolent voice came over the other end who I recognized almost instantly. “Is this agent Solomon’s residence?” The voice asked. “How the hell did you get this number, Steele?! And most importantly, how are you out?” I said in a firm tone, reaching for my gun. Steele chuckled maniacally. “I have my secrets.” “What do you want?” “To talk.” He said. “Tell me, how are your lovely friends holding up?” I snarled. “You come anywhere near them and I swear to god…” He hung up. I sat down, trying desperately to calm my nerves. Victor Steele? Out of prison? This can’t be real. I thought before I drifted into sleep. But it was. The hunt for Steele was on yet again.

 

3

 

The phone rang. This time at 6:30 AM, Hutch’s cheery voice came over the other end. “Hey DD. What’s up?” “Nothing much really. You?” I replied. “Same.” He said. “Wanna grab a bite to eat?” “Sounds good.” I answered. “See ya soon.” We both hung up. Hutch and I almost always hung out on the weekends. The one thing about him though, he was the kind of wolf you could go to with anything under the sun and always be a shoulder to cry on when you need one. No matter what the issue, he always had some way of making you smile every time in the end. After clipping on and concealing my gun and badge, I slipped on a denim jacket and headed outside to Pearle. It was a hot and muggy June day. The sun made Pearle’s door handle feel like hot charcoals on my paw. I arrived at 7:30. Hutch was sitting on the steps of his apartment when I pulled up. “So, what’s been goin on lately?” He asked when he got in. I scoffed. “Besides biddy boo getting out of the pen?” “What?! How?” He asked shocked. “Don’t know. Called me last night. Sounded real urgent.” “Yeah, no shit.” Hutch replied. “For all we know, we could be dealing with a cop killer here.” We pulled up at someplace called Sweet’s Bar and Grill and parked Pearle in front before walking inside. The bar was quiet for the most part. Nothing more than a lonely stereo playing 2000s songs somewhere in the corner. We sat down in a booth in the back corner and looked around. There were plenty of girls around. Most had mates that looked like Arnold Swartznegger’s bodyguards. Suddenly, the front door opened and everyone turned their heads as a group of coyotes dressed in all black swaggered in. Just then, my mind flashed back to the café in Columbia. My paw hovered instantly over my gun. I looked up just in time to see the lead coyote reaching for something. “Get down!” I yelled, grabbing Hutch. We dived quickly behind the booth as bullets bounced like Mexican jumping beans off the walls and tables in front of us. A dozen screams rang out. Gun drawn, I cautiously peeked out from behind the booth and blindly fired back four shots at the coyotes. One of them must have made its mark because I could hear him cry out in pain and the rest scattered like ants to a brown Cadillac outside. We darted to my car and immediately gave chase. Hutch took the wheel and I unholstered my weapon, took aim at the Cadillac’s rear tire and gently squeezed the trigger. The tire exploded into a shower of sparks and the car fishtailed and careened into a telephone pole in a nearby alley. The driver got out slowly with his paws in the air. I raised my weapon and ordered him to drop to his knees. He was uttering something in foreign language I couldn’t understand. He then reached for something in his pocket. I shouted at him to freeze but it was no use. He had pulled out a 38 snub and fired a single shot. Hutch dropped to the pavement. “No!” I cried. I took him down with four well aimed shots to the body and rushed over to Hutch. He began to rise slowly to his feet with a paw over his stomach. He tossed the in lodged bullet onto the group and I had completely forgotten he had been wearing his vest. He winced. “Damn. That’s gonna leave a mark.” He grumbled. I chuckled. “You sound like my grandpa.” I teased and began to search the body of the coyote, hoping to find something that would lead us a step closer to Steele. Just then, Hutch called me over to the Cadillac and in the trunk were two large shipments of weapons including a Russian AK-47. I was surprised. It could only mean one thing. The La Famila wouldn’t have gotten their paws on this type of weaponry for a simple run and gun. The gang lieutenant wouldn’t have brought his crew of henchmen to the bar just to play cops and robbers. Somebody wanted us dead.

 

4

 

The next morning was pretty quiet for the most part. Maybe we had caught a break. Maybe the La Famila had finally fallen back without retaliation. Everything was normal back at headquarters. I was nearly half asleep by the time Winston came in. “Heads up boys.” He said. “We’ve got action.” “What’s cracking?” I asked eagerly. “That’s just it.” He replied. “Crack house. Market Street, north.” “Hmm. You thinking La Famila?” I asked. “Not sure.” He answered. “Gear up, boys. We’re goin in.” It was a short ride to the crack den on Market Street near downtown. Hutch and I quickly got out to stack up on the door of the Victorian style house. Winston gave the signal and I ever so slightly opened the door. The coyotes inside turned their heads at the command of “freeze”. One of them pulled an AK74U assault rifle from under the sofa and pointed it directly at me and the team. I raised my rifle and unleased three rounds into his chest, dropping him to the floor. From behind a small TV in the corner, I could see what he was so desperately attempting to protect. Behind it was a thin layer of fairly new drywall. I took the butt stock of my rifle and began chipping away until I came to a large cardboard box in the center. Inside were five large bricks of Columbian grade cocaine covered up by six bundles of Columbian currency. “Looks like we won the lotto today.” I said humorously. “Just hurry up and get it to the car. I certainly don’t want it to be more than we bargained for.” Hutch retorted nervously. As we headed out to the Tahoe, I suddenly began to feel a bit uneasy myself. I did a quick scan of the complex. There were a few high buildings around but it seemed just fine. I had just opened the passenger side door when a rifle shot cracked through the still air. I turned my head to see Winston drop suddenly to the pavement. I rushed to where he lay under the open driver’s side door. Luckily, he was still breathing. I looked up just in time to see Victor Steele standing on the roof with an M700 sniper rifle broken across his paws, a menacing grin plaguing his face. I raised my M4 and fired until he suddenly vanished without a trace. I didn’t bother trying to pursue him. I knew we had to leave now while we still had the chance. I helped Winston into the back of the Tahoe and Hutch slammed on the accelerator. Winston was in pretty bad shape. His breathing was labored and he was struggling to stay awake. Underneath his raid armor, his once snow white fur was now bright red with blood. "Leave me..." He managed to wheeze out. "Don't let him... get away." "The hell I am, old man." I answered defiantly. "We're all in this together. And don't you even think for a second that I would let you down." "It's so hot in this armor, Aaron... Yet I feel so c-cold." Winston's blue eyes closed and his head slowly turned over to the side. I desperately tapped the side of his muzzle, calling out his name in a fit of pure panic and agony. "Winston. Winston!" It was no use. Winston, my father, was dead.

 

5

 

The phone rang again. I was still jarred, all the memories of Winston still branded into my head. I snatched it up and answered, “Yes?” Lieutenant Tony Atkinson’s voice came over in an urgent tone. “We have a new assignment for you. How soon can you get here?” He asked. I took a glance at the clock. It was now 7:15 AM. “Roughly six minutes.” I replied. “Sounds good.” He said and hung up. I hopped in Pearle and wasted no time getting down to HQ. Hutch was already there, waiting patiently in Lieutenant Atkinson’s office. “Ah, Agent Solomon.” Atkinson beamed. “Great honor, lieutenant.” I replied. “I must say, I’m sorry to hear about your father. He was… Well, one of the best agents I had even known.” He said gravely. “Anyway…” He went on to the task at hand. He told us one of our informants was being held up in some compound in Mexico and we were to work with the Navy’s SEAL team 7 to get in past the notorious Martex rebels gang. “For now, you’re the only element I’ve got to send.” He said. “Good luck.” With that, we mounted up and prepared for the long journey across the border into Mexico. The hunt for Steele had only just begun.

 

6

 

“The compound’s only half a clique to the north.” Announced Jason Waterson, leader of the SEAL team as we rounded the corner into the complex. He signaled the all clear and we carefully moved out into a small villa, checking our corners as we dashed inside and off the street. At last we reached the compound on the other side of the village. After simultaneously taking out and slipping past the group of Martex coyotes by the car, we stacked up on the door and prepared to breach and clear. Inside of the compound, we were once again met with a deadly silence. “Keep your eyes peeled.” Waterson reminded us. As we slowly made our way through the pool house, a cry rang out from behind the door to the next room. It was a distraught cry. The kind of cry that would only escape the lips of a murder victim. I quietly moved over to the door and was just about to turn the knob when it suddenly opened with such a force that it knocked me back first onto the hard marble floor. A gold colored lioness broadly stood over me, holding a bloodstained hunting knife just inches from my neck. I looked deep into her olive green eyes and soon recognized her. “Kari?” Kari Voucher was a past informant and so called “snitch” I had used to get info on Steele’s whereabouts for the previous mission in Columbia on my first day. I then realized that she was the one we had been sent here for. She lend a paw and helped me up, finally seeing she had nearly filleted her closest friend. “How’d you manage to escape?” I asked. “Never thought I’d see you alive again.” She chuckled. “I have my ways.” She replied. Then, there was an abrupt shout in Spanish from behind the same door. We took cover on the wall near the door as two Martex coyotes swaggered in. I waited until one of them got past and then made my move. Kari silently handed me the knife and I grabbed his paw and slammed him into the wall, jamming the knife into his neck. He gurgled on his own blood and dropped to the floor. Hutch took down the other with some quick punch combos and we swiftly made our way to the exit. Just as we stepped outside, “Shit! RPG!” Before I could even think of reacting, a tremendous force blew me back against the wall of the building. Hutch yanked me to my feet. “Get up! We gotta get the fuck outta here!” Waterson radioed for the extraction and guns blazing, we make our way to the helicopter which arrived three minutes later. I waited until I was inside before firing back, hitting one of the Martex thrice in the torso. As we lifted up into the moonlit night sky, Kari sighed. “I think I just used up my eighth life!” She said, still panting. “Oh pee-shaw! You’re still in one piece.” I teased. “Easy for you to say. You’re part of the dog family. She said chuckling. I let out a sigh of my own. We may have won the battle, but the war was still so far by a long shot. Steele was still so far out of our grasp.

 

7

 

I made contact with Kari again at Arty’s Bar and Grill. Turns out, the place was a stakeout and meeting place for the La Famila cartel. I sat on a barstool, staring aimlessly into an empty beer bottle on the counter. The coyote bartender gave me an unwelcoming glare but soon went back to shining glasses and shooting glances around the room occasionally. Just when we were beginning to think it was all hype, a group of coyotes wearing all black suits casually strolled in. One of them was carrying a black briefcase while the others stood close behind him with AK-47 assault rifles at the ready in their paws. We watched as he spoke softly to the bartender. “One hundred million, as we agreed. You have the device?” “Of course.” The bartender replied, handing over a large silver briefcase. Suddenly, their attention turned to us as one of them said something in Spanish. “I said where are you from?” He repeated in English. “Hey Fleabag!” Now was our chance. I unleashed a right hook into his jaw and then slammed his face into one of the tables. I dropped the others with two well-aimed shots from my pistol and quickly went in pursuit of the fleeing bartender coyote. I caught up with him just outside the bar, taking him down with a hard tackle to the pavement. I snapped on the cuffs while Kari secured the briefcase. Back at division, she later told me that the briefcase contained a Vector SMG and that the guy carrying it was an arms dealer for the ELN which probably explained how Steele’s cartel had gotten their paws on AKs and RPGs. Just then, Hutch bustled in with news. “We’ve got him! Steele’s here! He’s using public transit to move the weapons.” “Alright. Gear up. We’re hunting some big game today.” “This a huge risk, Aaron.” Kari cut in uneasily. “Are you sure you can take him?” “Trust me. This is the one he’s been looking for.”

 

8

 

We arrived on the bridge at 6:02 PM, the scheduled time for the Metro train to show up. We had waited here for nearly over an hour and were just about to turn back when from out of the blue, a small beam of light began to move in the distance headed straight for us. I waited until the train was just about under the bridge and then made my leap of fate. I happened to jump just in time and landed directly on the roof of the last car. I used my MP5 to shred through the glass and cut down the two coyotes inside. I slowly moved into the next car, carefully checking my corners as I went. Everything was quiet until I got to the second car from the very front of the train. Three more coyotes were inside, weapons at the ready. I raised my MP5 and fired three precision aimed shots at the unsuspecting perpetrators. I continued moving forward and was almost at the front of the train when I felt the tip of something cold and sharp against the fur on the back of my neck. I slowly turned around only to be met by Steele holding a long bladed hunting knife to my throat. “I’ve been looking for you a pretty long time.” He said in a bone chilling tone. “Well, I guess you’ve found me, cowboy.” I retorted and unleashed a ton of lead straight to his jaw. He took a step forward and tried a swing at me with his knife. I ducked quickly and returned with a kick that sent him straight into the window, shattering the glass on impact. He let out an enraged growl and tackled me into the wall, slamming his head into my stomach. I recovered and returned the favor with a knee to his mouth and a hard uppercut to his chin. He staggered back, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. I thought he had had enough, but he once again fired back with an unsuspecting swipe of the knife. A sharp pain appeared in my left eye followed by something wet and warm trickling down my face. The blow had knocked me down to the floor. He stepped fourth and jammed the knife deep into my stomach, smirking at my howl of pain. He drew a colt 1911 pistol and aimed it right at my head. In a cold whisper, he uttered, “Goodbye, Fleabag.” Then, came a thunderous roar. Kari stormed in from behind and pounced on him, claws unsheathed. Steele reared up and countered Kari’s attack, punching her several times in the face. I had seen enough. I pulled as hard as I could on the handle of the knife, slowly inching the blade out of my stomach. I climbed to my feet and slowly crept up directly behind Steele. With every ounce of strength I had, I thrust deep into his neck and snatched it out, blood pouring out as he fell to the floor dead as leaves in the fall. I collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. The train had stopped in a huge station somewhere underground. Kari rose to her feet and rushed to my aid. She tore a piece of cloth from her shirt and tied it tightly around my midsection. “It’ll hold for now.” She said, helping me to my feet. “It’s over. We’ve won.” “Yeah… For now…” I replied as my vision slowly faded into darkness.

 

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Publication Date: 05-29-2015

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