Meta and the Marines II Chapter 10

A different take on the traditional M/M werewolf romance topic: less romantic, less traditional, more disturbing and with conniving wolves, vampires and submissive marines.


Comments or requests for more of Meta (& the Marines) can be emailed to Meta.JohnAR@gmail.com or check out www.amazon.com/author/johnar.

Depending on reception, I will post more chapters. 


And if any military boy wants to start a MetaPack, let me know ...

John A.R.

Meta & the Marines II

(Meta Origins)

CHAPTER 10

"Is this connection secure?" she asked with a concerned voice looking up from her tablet.

"As secure as this agency can make it," the man on the screen answered, picking up his mug with decaffeinated coffee and taking a long sip.

"Let me show you something then," the woman said hitting some squares on her pad.

A video started, immediately recognizable as surveillance material. It showed someone walking down an office hallway with two men and a girl hitting with their fists against a glass door. The quality of the security camera was not good enough to recognize their faces and did not provide any sound, but it was clear they were locked in and wanted to get out bad. Then a security guy joined them. But instead of helping them, he seemed weightlessly floating towards them to slap one of the men brutally, knocking his phone to the floor.

Then another man appeared, older, fatter, but again it looked like he was levitating when he approached the girl to play with her hair. It was obvious she didn't like this attention at all and started to cry.

The five people were talking until finally, the security guy attacked the third guy, a small man with goatee. He reacted swiftly though to that attack and retaliated by punching the attacker in his face; in this moment of confusion, he reached into the pocket of his suit to drill a pen into the head of the attacking security guy as if he'd been doing this for his whole life.

While the injured security guy stepped back to rip out the pen from his eye socket, the second attacker approached the guy who fought back. He tried to suffocate him.

Then a window burst.

A beast jumped through the window, breaking the neck of the now one-eyed attacker in seconds, a second creature leaped through the broken window to kill the other attacker basically mid-flight. And then there was static.

The static disappeared and the gentleman from the Washington agency reappeared. "Wow, MaryAnn. Where did you get the video from?"

"I have some connections with the local police."

"Of course. Quite impressive wolves, I have to say."

"They seem to be still growing. I saw them more than half a year ago, and not only are there four wolves in the pack now, but each of them seems to be a foot taller than back then."

"And the nerd is no push over anymore, either, as I just saw. And I can tell you even more."

"So please tell, Duke."

"Well, that little trap didn't work as planned some weeks ago."

"Oh really?" she asked sarcastically.

"In hindsight one is always smarter, my queen of the dark," he tried to stay cool. But he knew he couldn't afford too many of those failures if he wanted to enjoy his extra retirement money.

"So tell."

"We have at least eleven dead wolves. The rogue pack was leading them off the interstate, but they couldn't attack the car as planned. Instead three of the four wolves turned the tables and attacked `our' rogue team first."

MaryAnn snorted silently. Those were neither `theirs' nor a `team' but a random assortment of packless wolves who hid in the nothingness of the desert taking on dirty jobs for money by somebody she knew too well. And Duke was so sweetly unaware of whom they really had gotten the money from.

"Seems only three of the rogue wolves survived, but another one is still unaccounted for. Each of those four beasts killed at least two, if not four. Your favorite pack had a bit of bad luck in one or two instances, but overall, their strength and their turning the trap against the rogues was a deadly combination."

"So they're smart and strong?" she summarized more smugly than she had intended.

"Well, wait for the climax."

"I can barely contain my anticipation."

"The nerd killed the alpha wolf, in his alpha wolf state."

"What?" MaryAnn had never understood why the Lord made such a big deal about this dork, but maybe she'd underestimated him, a plan forming in her head.

"As said, this kid is no pushover no more. I have no clue what the continued exposure of a young human to such four killer wolf shifters does to him, but it obviously doesn't make him less dangerous."

"Well maybe they wouldn't have been so successful if that bitch hadn't warned them."

"Maybe, but based one what you showed me today I have the feeling a lonely road off the interstate would have raised their suspicion anyway."

She nodded in silent agreement. "So what do you think is going to happen next?" she asked.

"We have to be very careful. There're few powerful people in the country who would do everything to make sure the prophecy happens, they put a lot of obstacles in place so I cannot use all the agency's resources to get at the wolves. And most of those people don't want to wait anymore, they want the prophecy to happen better today than tomorrow ..."

"Understood. And here this nerd has basically threatened to blow up the orifice if any vampire attacks him again on campus."

"So how is he going to react to those two Russians?"

"Don't know."

"Maybe you want to let him know, that it wasn't you and that you stick to the deal you made," he suggested.

"'Deal?'" she parroted with disdain, although Duke had a point. "If I had balls, I would say he squeezed them so hard I had no bloody choice but do what he wanted." A bit of lying didn't hurt anyone.

The man chuckled on the screen. "Well, MaryAnn, believe me you have more balls than most men I know."

"Not sure a lady should take that as a compliment, but let's forget that. I guess I'll let him know I'm sticking to our arrangement. No vampire I control on campus is going to harm him until the end of his studies."

"Why do I have the feeling the very next day you might do your worst?" he asked.

"Because he and his stinking dogs killed several of our brothers and sisters. Because his stunt in the Gregory Hall massacred nearly a hundred of our brothers and sisters before they could return. And because he rejected us."

"A lot of good reasons. So that would be in ten months or so. How strong will they be by then?"

MaryAnn got her Whiskey glass and took a generous sip. "What choice do I have? Based on the development I'll need at least four vampires per wolf even if they are not in their wolf form. And in their wolf form? I don't want to think about it. Each of them could easily take out 25 average vampires, without getting seriously hurt himself."

"So for an open fight you need more than 100 vampires. Loyal vampires or some more queens," he clarified with rolling eyes.

"Oh thanks for your math and confidence," she chuckled refilling her glass with the golden liquid. "I'm fully aware an open fight wouldn't make sense. At least not right now. One day, when the threat has become clear to everyone of our brothers and sisters, it'll be different. Thousands of them will join the righteous fight, but right now they're all busy feeding on virgins."

"Anyway, I had the situation cleaned up in Arizona. Whoever organized the event didn't think about the removing the trash afterwards."

"Good, and I'll have Betsy taken care of," she informed him confidently.

"Will you vanquish her?"

"Oh no. She might turn out valuable in the next months. Let's say I'll be inviting her to a very secure place having a reunion with her vampire family." `First I need to find her though,' she thought.

"You're so warm-hearted."

"Old Southern trait, you know that."

"I just don't understand how Peter could screw up so much ..."

"Really? I mean, in these modern times," she nearly spat out the word `modern,' "you think differently, but when I lived my human life, we would have never entrusted such an important task and the orifice to a Negro."

"Of course not," he answered, knowing that his WASP background was essential for MaryAnn to work with him.

"After he'd found this perv, he just should have given him what he wanted. That's surely what his degenerated boss would have wanted."

"Sorry?"

"He's obviously into getting fucked like a girl," MaryAnn said with disgust. "What do you think he does with his wolves when they're at home? Playing cards?"

"I thought Peter sent agents accordingly."

"Yes, tall, cute, intelligent ones. And his boss tried himself. And what does this perv like? Getting manhandled by brutes without brain. I mean two of them were in the fucking marines, and all of them are built like the Negros on my father's cotton farm. I mean how common is that."

"MaryAnn, you really make me miss the old times."

"They didn't think that one through. So their agents never got into this boy's pants. And when the wolves finally found him, actually when I found him, it was pretty much a lost case." MaryAnn chose not to reveal who she thought had really screwed up; and that she wasn't unhappy about it.

"'Pretty much' not meaning completely?"

"There was a minor chance, but again we sent the wrong guy; and the drugs didn't work fully."

"You really tried everything."

"Of course, Duke, but when I realized where his weak point was, it was already been too late." She sighed at the memory of having tea with Colt, who looked so inconspicuous but could become her race's demise. "If the prophecy is true, he's the most dangerous man not only on earth."

"Now, that's a bit dramatic."

"Maybe for you, because you're stinking human."

"Thanks for the flowers."

"I think for the amount we pay you as support fee every month, I can send you some `flowers' once in a while," she tried to take back her insult, smiling her charming Southern smile.

"Understood. So what are we going to do now?"

MaryAnn took another sip thinking about the question. "I'd hoped you had a suggestion. I have to wait here until June, when I can make my next move. The Lord wouldn't take the destruction of the orifice lightly. I'm already on his shit list because of that wolf incident."

"Well, I have access to some more `friends' in California, but after seeing these recordings it would take a full gang attack with automatic weapons to make some progress. And that would raise so many questions that it could be our undoing."

"Agreed. So I guess we need to start to outsmart that cock jockey ..."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Well, first we'll see what more we can get out of this Betsy bitch, what a disgrace to our brother and sisterhood."

"Okay, I'm not sure torturing a half vampire really works."

"Not if you do it like you guys did it on Cuba."

"No details, MaryAnn."

"Sorry. Anyway, it's clear the nerd has no personal weak points. He hates his Texas folks, and they can't deal with a brownie queen."

"Where do you have all these expressions from?"

"Guess what we did to those types in my times?" she asked.

"Don't tell me, actually."

"Anyway, the nerd has no weak points in that respect, but his wolves have. Three of them have brothers; at least three of them know of their brothers, need to find out about the last one, that traitor. One of them has sisters; they have parents."

"You are going drag those in?"

"Yes. Not going to hurt them, I think that would threaten the `Understanding,' but we can maneuver them a bit to our advantage."

"Well, if you need more info on any of them, let me know," he offered generously.

"Actually, I can already tell you I need info on this one, sending you the name right now."

The man looked at his own pad and nodded. "Got it. You should get the first stuff in a week. Unfortunately, I need to be very careful."

"No rush, as said, can't make my big move soon."

"Other idea, have you ever thought about breaking the scent imprinting bond?"

"Was looking into it. Would require quite some extensive brainwashing, maybe even surgery, or long-term exposure to some heavy chemicals. It's linked to the part of the brain, which decodes olfactory input. As far as I understand it's the oldest part of our brains, so it cannot be accessed consciously or subconsciously under regular hypnosis."

"No chance then?"

"Only if I keep the dogs under control for months. If I could control them for months I wouldn't stop at washing their midget brains." For a second she enjoyed the pleasurable feelings from the thought of having those dogs under her full control. She was working on the chemicals, but it could take years. And she didn't have that time.

"And the nerd?"

"Even worse; most likely he's completely immune to hypnosis because of his genetic background."

"Sucks."

"We should have thought about that earlier ...," MaryAnn chuckled; the alcohol was getting to her finally.

"Well, you took care of Peter at the end."

"Yep, went behind my back to get the money and to please his asshole boss. Can you believe that? First, he ignores my direct order not to touch the dork, because we had plans. And then he does it to get that pitiful amount of money when a so much bigger threat is looming over us. No wonder he failed. I mean letting a French 19th century frills guy make a move on the dork? Hadn't he understood anything? At least he could have sent a Viking peasant or German paratrooper or a brawny Scot in a kilt," she pretended to be infuriated.

"I see you have figured out his `type.' I guess that's why you're in charge now. And I guess that's why you ripped Peter's heart out of his chest."

She smiled.

"Remind me not to ignore your orders."

She made an elegant but dismissive hand movement. "Duke, I wouldn't have to rip your heart out of your chest, assuming you have one. I would just send a nice video collection to the media, and they would do it for me ..."

"Got the message, Mrs. Montgomery."

"'Miss'," she corrected him smugly.

"Miss Montgomery. Anything else you would like to cover?" Seemed he had enough of her for today.

"Last thing. Which game is dean Haliburt playing?"

"The fat guy at your college?"

"Not my college anymore, can't stand all the wolves on campus and all that politically correct bullsh***," she suppressed the last word.

"Got it. I think he has no agenda except for money."

"I assumed so, but if you can find out who his `friends' are in Washington, I would appreciate it."

"Do you think he'll beat you to get the boy?"

"No, the Chestnut pack he works with isn't interested yet in the boy; the money isn't large enough yet to get that upper class pack tempted; but he needs them to get to the boy and the dogs; and if something happens to the boy and the dogs blow up the orifice as revenge, he knows that I'll atomize his tiny balls. So he won't do anything unless I give him a green light. Actually, he has been quite ... compliant."

"Got it. But why do you want to know what his game is then? You seem to have figured him out already."

"Duke, do I really need to remind you things are not always what they seem to be? I mean look at the little TLA in the right upper corner of your screen."

"Touché," he smiled. "I think our time is over. The connection will be closed in two minutes. Have a nice evening, Miss Montgomery."

"Same to you. And please forward my regards to your wife and lovely daughter," she said with a gentle smile, before the screen went dark.

MaryAnn knew Duke's smile had frozen midsentence. He was well aware of the fact that any attempt to stop cooperating with MaryAnn would have consequences for him and his family.

She gulped down the rest of her alcohol and decided to take a bath despite the fact she wouldn't be spoiled by two Negro girls like she'd been in her previous life.

---

They sat at their kitchen table, having pork ribs. Well, the wolves had ribs, ribs of several pigs as it had seemed, Colt had been happy with his pork fillet and potato gratin. He got this recipe from his late grandmother and loved to cook it. His wolves had tried and complimented him on it but the primal instinct of gnawing on bones had been too strong to be pushed away by lean boneless fillet and carbohydrates.

"So how was first day back in class, Prime?" Colt asked the red wolf, who just licked his big fingers with unhidden pleasure. Heaps of naked bones on the plate next to him.

"Sucks. Not sure whether I'll every understand Organizational Psychology."

"Why that?" Brian asked.

"They're talking matrix organization, dotted and direct reporting lines, incentives alignment, 360 feedback cycles ... I mean how complex can you make things?"

"Welcome to the modern world of management," Colt couldn't suppress a smile.

"Not sure I like it."

"I'm sure you don't like it," Colt provoked the big guy gently, earning him a quizzing look. "In your world organizational structure is very simple, I gather."

Prime nodded. "Yes, guy on the top tells everyone what to do. And if one doesn't do as told guy on the top beats him up."

The wolves around the table chuckled at Prime's simple worldview, but Colt knew that Prime had overdone it on purpose.

"I somehow feel familiar with that sophisticated concept," Brian commented smugly.

"Really? I wonder why ...," Sam added gnawing on his next set of tasty rips. He knew they were fattening him up, but he enjoyed every meal. And he loved how his body developed. Soon he and his wolf would reach Prime's strength and size even if the red-haired wolf was still growing as well. He would become a valuable member of the pack and not a welfare case. Every evening he thanked Fate for the day he met Colt in class and his decision to stay pure so he could join this pack.

"Because I run a tight ship here," Prime willingly continued the banter around his `alpha wolf management style.'

"So I hope me and Sam are not the sailors with you and CE being the marines," Brian drifted off.

"No swabbies onboard," CE demanded.

"So if a Navy SEAL wanted to join the pack, you would say no?" Sam asked.

Silence.

"Thought so," Sam concluded, returning to his ribs.

"Smartass, seems we need to increase our training intensity," CE mumbled while chewing a big junk of meat.

"So what about your classes, Sam?"

"I'm in Mcfuckmyass Erickson's course."

"How nice," Prime answered remembering his final exam like a nightmare.

"Making fun of me, Alpha?"

"Never."

"Anyway, I think I need to ask Colt for a lot of help this semester; McFuckerson already put me on his shit list."

"How come?" Prime asked stopping the joking.

"Several of my former pack members are in the class, and they made sure I come across as a disloyal loser without a brain to write home about."

Growl.

"I agree," Sam said, "I'm going to hurt some of those guys bad next time they cross me the wrong way."

Colt put his hand on Prime's shoulder. "I'm sure we can work something out without breaking anyone's bones," Colt cautioned looking at his young enforcer with stern eyes.

"Absolutely, Meta," Prime agreed through clenched teeth. "Some bruises will do it," he added quickly, earning him a punch into his shoulder. "Ouch."

"Oh shut up, Alpha, I hurt my fist more with this than your shoulder."

"Maybe you should use boxing gloves," Prime teased him.

"Or maybe I just cut off your balls."

"Ouch," Brian said protecting his genitals by squeezing his legs together. "Anyway, I have a fun class this term. Public Relations."

"You mean spinning bullshit?" CE asked.

"Pretty much. And you know I'm good at this."

"No doubt whatsoever, Brian," CE agreed quickly looking at Colt. "You wouldn't believe how often this guy got us out of trouble when we were traveling across the continent."

"You mean difficulties this Alpha got you into?" Colt asked, not stopping with teasing Prime.

CE didn't take the bait, though. "Normally, local police don't like three homeless ex-military men strolling through their area ... means trouble."

"And you were trouble?"

"Well, not sure we should talk about that," Prime tried to close the discussion a bit too quickly. "Maybe CE wants to tell us about his law class."

"Oh no, I'm already dying after one session. No way I'm ever going to remember all of that shit.

"Seems that it is going to be a Charlie Foxtrot of a semester."

Prime and CE looked at Colt with surprise.

"You taught me that," Colt explained. "Prime, CE and Sam all in courses they already regret in the first week. At least we don't need to worry about vampires on campus."

Silence.

"Though I guess you guys wouldn't mind a bit of action to get you away from the books," Colt chuckled.

"Which action are we talking about?" Brian asked.

Prime growled.

"What?"

"I guess it is time for us to open the letters," Colt said after Sam and Brian had put the rest of the food away and the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, which was now making now homely noises.

"Are you sure you want us to be with you?" Prime asked.

"Yes," Colt answered quickly, feeling guilty about his lie.

"Okay. Wolves, into the main room."

They got up and sat down on the thick dark red rug in the main room. It wasn't cold enough yet to make a fire in the fireplace, but Sam couldn't help lighting some candles.

"Cozy," Brian approved.

Colt came in with three envelopes, regular business style envelopes with address bar codes and printed labels.

"Okay, number one," he said ripping open the envelope.

He read.

The wolves observed his face.

"And?"

"This is for sample B," he said.

"That was your mother ... I mean ... Mrs. Parker," Brian double-checked the copy of the papers they had sent in.

"'The control sample is contaminated,' it says," Colt read, "I guess that is my swab. Anyway, there is a 99.5% probability that we are not related."

"Fuck," Prime commented.

"Not surprised actually," Colt stated truthfully. "I mean, I'm quite happy that she isn't my mother. I just wished I'd known much earlier."

"Sorry, Colt," Brian said putting his hand on the nerd's shoulder sitting next to him.

"Okay, envelope two."

"Sample C."

"Haliburt."

"'The control sample is contaminated,' it says again," Colt read surprised that they couldn't even get a clean sample of his DNA, "I guess Prime you must have spit on it."

"Don't think so. So?"

"Same answer. There is a 99.5% probability that we aren't related."

"Wow, and I was sure you were right. That the Shaman pointed at the dean."

Colt nodded. "I know. But when you want to believe something you find reasons to believe. I mean there are many more powerful men in California."

"True," Sam agreed quietly. "But does that mean your dad in Texas is your dad after all?"

"That we shall see," he responded while opening the third letter.

"'The control sample is contaminated.' At least we are consistent," Colt chuckled. "There is a 99.5% probability the two donors are not related."

They were quiet until Prime stated the obvious. "I guess we know as much as we knew before."

"No, Prime," Colt disagreed softly processing the info. "I finally have confirmation that those people who `raised' me aren't my parents. So that part of the Shaman's story is true. And the Haliburt thing was just a hunch."

"So I guess we need to keep looking for your parents."

"Maybe. Seems they've gone through quite some efforts to stay hidden, so perhaps we should keep it that way."

"You're giving up?" Prime asked a bit upset. "I mean my mother ..."

"Just putting it on the back burner," Colt interrupted but cringed for lying to Prime.

"Okay."

"I mean. My past is important, but maybe we should focus more on learning about our future."

"And how would we do that?"

"We need to find out more about this prophecy. If it's so big it can't be that only Betsy knows about it. By the way, is she still missing?"

"Yep, gone like a vanquished vampire," CE answered having used all his police connections to find out more.

"Okay. So where could we find out more about this prophecy? Is there a book about it? Any other Shaman?"

Silence.

"Well," Brian finally said. "Maybe there's a way."

"How?"

"My family. They are Mormon wolves."

"Honestly, I've always found that an odd combination," Colt commented.

"I know. But as you know Mormons have potentially the best genealogical databases in the world; they also have it for wolves."

Prime looked doubtful. "Colt is not a wolf, last time I checked."

"You're so perceptive, Alpha," Brian responded light-heartedly, "what I mean: A cousin of mine is in the society that collects all of this genealogical info. If there is a prophecy of a White Wolf, he would know."

"Not sure why genealogy should lead us to a future White Wolf," Sam struggled with the logic.

Brian looked at the enforcer. "I know it's a wide shot. But we could find out whether there had ever been a White Wolf before, and where he'd come from and what he'd done."

"Okay, can you call this cousin?" Colt asked.

Brian hesitated.

Prime asked: "What's the issue, Beta?"

"I don't think I want to talk to him."

Alpha growl.

"And even if I wanted, he wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Well, he outed me to my parents."

Colt widened his eyes. "Asshole."

"I know."

"Why?"

"He was holier than Joseph Smith, and couldn't stand I was thinking of committing sinful acts."

"Quite ironic, you might have been the purest 18-year-old boy in America and still they kicked you out," Prime summarized.

"Yep. Anyway, I don't think he would want to help me."

Colt twisted his lips. "He doesn't need to help you. He just needs to want to help Prime."

Brian thought for a moment. "Yeah that could work."

"I guess we are going to Salt Lake City," CE said.

"Not yet. Let me think this through."

The pack nodded. At least they had a next step. Even if it was a vague one.

"Anyway I'm off to bed."

Four wolves raised their heads in hope.

"Alone," Colt clarified.

"What a waste," Brian commented.

"Prime, did we buy that extra nasty soap?"

"Yes, Sir, a four pack, actually."

"Good to know. Good night boys."

Several "Good nights" later, Colt disappeared into his room.

After he had brushed his teeth and removed his contacts, he unlocked his secret box. It was nearly empty nowadays, except for the painful candle, the bank statements and a new letter. Everything else he didn't need to hide from his wolves, not even the three books with dirty stories. Nowadays he lived his dirty stories.

`Nearly forgot about those,' he said to himself looking at the Chase bank documents. `Need to do some research.'

He put them back and took the letter out of the open envelope. He reread the lines with watery eyes: "The target sample and the control sample are contaminated. There is a 99.2% probability the two donors are related."

He understood what this sentence meant for his life and he was afraid about the implications. But mostly, he was afraid of telling his pack, even confirming it to Prime.