Tuesday, June 2, 2015

White Fang spun to cyclone speed.

Pic from ~ayay.co.uk~

June howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Wow, the middle of the year already. Okay, here's an action flash scene, starring White Fang, my super wolf hero.


White Fang spun to cyclone speed.

"Predator drone, you'll never see it coming," White Fang, super wolf, growled under his breath. Drily, he imitated the very words of the current, so-called leader of the free world.

"Yes, you will," he growly muttered, "if you have super hearing, then search it out with your super vision."

On night patrol, White Fang hovered high above Talbot's Peak territory. Given this was the second incursion of their airspace in as many days, White Fang hurled himself through the cool, dew-laden air like the infamous speeding bullet.

As he streaked toward the drone with the almost fifty foot wingspan, he noted the aircraft's trajectory -- directly over the Pleasure Club. White Fang figured since they'd been successful in keeping the black ops teams from gaining any foothold -- at blocking any satellite observation of the subterranean club -- that aerial surveillance, even a possible attack, had been ordered by the shadow-cabal elites.

Gritting his teeth with ferocious determination, White Fang increased his flight speed. Using his x-ray vision, he searched for the predator drone's weakest point. Yep, unholy blackhole, the craft was loaded for shooting every bear in existence -- including bear shifters.

Before he rammed both fists into the belly of the drone beast, and disabled it, White Fang took short moments to discover where the joystick operator was stationed. He was making a personal delivery.

WHAM! BAM! SLAM! White Fang crammed both fists inside the predator, then tore out it's wire innards with a furious glee he hadn't felt for a long time. His adrenaline spiked, hitting a personal all time high.

Enough with Big Brother Sky Net!

Fury ripped through him, and White Fang gnashed his emerging wolf canines. He flew a loop around the gliding aircraft as the engine whined and whirred pitifully. Deciding where to take hold of the drone, he seized the tail.

Swiftly gathering his inner force, White Fang zoomed toward the state of Colorado, the predator drone in tow. He hadn't planned on this retributive action, but so the righteous hell be it.

Mentally, he contacted Dante. 'Emergency transmission,' he mind-yelled to their alpha wolf leader.

'Ears up and alert. What is it?' Dante telepathed.

'Intercepted weaponized drone. Am returning it to point of origin. Suggest you alert the patrol team, and add reinforcements.'

'Got it, superman wolf. Dragon team on standby.'

White Fang let a tiny grin curl his lips for a split second. 'Suggest using full force flaming if another drone invades our airspace.'

'Will give that fiery directive,' Dante returned.

White Fang felt-heard the werewolf's tongue in cheek humor. 'Satellites under control?' he asked, knowing their cyber team -- including the AI assassin, Kalina -- practiced regularly to hack the satellite weapons' system deployed around the planet.

'We are secure. Don't let the big bad military lasers bite.'

'I'm doing the biting,' White Fang grrrr-ed back mentally.

'We'll a share a tall one when you get back, super wolf. Over.'

'Looking forward to a cool brew. Out.'

White Fang rumbled a thunderous growl. Savage with the need to protect Talbot's Peak from any and all threats, he put on another burst of superspeed. Satellite tracking pinged off the drone as he followed the Rocky Mountains south to his destination. The state of Colorado, and Norad.

That's where the pimply-faced, brain-arrested human sat in shock, blinking at his control screens. White Fang continued remote-viewing the room, observing a team of officers cluster around the drone operator.

But, let the shadow-hidden wimps track his location. Zero tolerance, you salad-decorated bozo-clowns, he mentally snarled at them. Like Texas, you don't mess with us supernatural Peakites.

Maybe -- yet unlikely White Fang admitted -- they'd get his message.

"Sir, super-class being, is closing in," one of the aides reported. "Still has drone. Orders, sir?"

"Fire at will. The drone has not been disarmed," the general barked, command obviously his second nature.

Seconds passed. "Cannot fire lasers, sir. Satellites have failed. Satellites have failed," the aid informed. Panic owned his voice.

"Destroy the fucking bastard with everything we've got," the general boomed.

"Computer system is failing," the *shriveled in his chair* drone operator squeaked. "Weapons will not respond...sir. They are offline."

"He is correct, sir," the dutiful aid reported.

"Offline!" the general stormed, beet-red in the face. "What the hell. Make something work. Gawdammit, make something work!"

White Fang shut down his remote viewing. With his blood fiercely pounding through his veins, he focused on the target he'd chosen. The massive air circulation duct had been hidden by a holo image that appeared to be part of the mountain.

Abruptly slowing, White Fang spun to cyclone speed. His clear-headed fury guided him as he slung the drone. Hanging in midair, he watched the metal-winged beast slam inside the duct.

Crunch! Crack! The predator drone crumpled, the metallic sounds screeching through the valley. Satisfaction did a victory dance inside White Fang.

"Don't mess with Talbot's Peak," he roared, and shot his fist toward the waning moon. With his words echoing around him, White Fang whirled, and soared for home.

Unmolested by any form of cyber warfare, he landed well away from the Pleasure Club proper, then moved toward one of many underground entrances.

"Tall cold one waitin' for ya, mate. Several in fact." Dugger greeted. "Quite a dog and pony show you put on there, super flyer man." Dugger threw open the door before White Fang could grip the handle.

"Show?" he asked, mystified at first. It dawned on White Fang as Dugger grinned like the Aussie dingo shifter he was. Dante's cyber crew had utilized satellite transmissions to put him on the flat-screen TVs inside various Pleasure Club establishments.

"Like one helluva super hero movie. The bloody best." Dugger secured the door, then clapped him on the back. "You flying at blur fucking speed over the Rockies, then delivering that special little gift. Quite a bit of cheering, I can tell ya, mate."

Dugger kept one hand on White Fang's back as they strode down the corridor. "Oh yeah, super wolf, that includes that sexy sheila goddess of yours. Gotta say, she has some impressive claws."

"Pasha's claws came out?" White Fang grinned. "She does care. That's rare for her."

"I'd say your sheila was about to transport herself, give you a helping, scratching paw. Or two."

"That's my cat goddess. If she'd arrived, the whole mountain might have caved in from her magickal, enraged might." White Fang had to let another smile slip out.

"Tell it like it is, mate. The scumbaggery shadow cabal ain't got nothin' on us. They'd be smart to get that embedded in their friggin' brain cells. What's left of them."

"Intelligence is not one of their attributes. Let's say." White Fang companionably threw an arm over Dugger's shoulders. "Score another one for our side."


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


Pat C. said...

Why are they spying on the Pleasure Club? Can't they just look at Internet porn like normal people?

I find myself thankful that coyotes don't have superpowers.

Savanna Kougar said...

Not just the Pleasure Club, it's shifters and supernaturals they're after and are afraid of... especially since they have their own territory carved out.

Aw come on, bet there's a Trickster Coyote with some superpowers. ~grinz~