RED HAZE: A Werewolf Story for the 21st Century

by Ian Redman

  Inside it, was a DVD.

  Leisurely, her mouth came close to his ear once again, her lips whispering menacingly, “he was only twenty…my love.” His heartbeat was now pounding, hammering, thumping into his head. How he enjoyed her recordings, he thought. There was never any pity for her patients, only pain, and at first…a little pleasure. How he admired her dedication! Yes, dedication…and commitment, to her important work. Just for his enjoyment! He began to relax, his breathing more controlled.

  Torture, at the hands of a skilled physician, could be so absorbing to watch, so…fascinating. He was so very pleased he had initiated this form of entertainment with the beautiful physician, for ever since that wonderful, fateful day, when they first met at the dinner party in Berlin, his life had been transformed. Her surgical knowledge and skills were extraordinary, a delight to watch. How he loved her, how he lusted over her.

  Walking again over to the television, the wicked smile not leaving her face, the white-coated woman inserted the DVD and picked up the controller. “I made sure he thoroughly enjoyed his first day of treatment my darling. As always, he was frightened at the thought of being kidnapped, but I soon calmed him down. Of course, once I began his surgery… the panic crept in.” Giggling, her right index finger pressed the ‘start’ button on the handset, the man in the large chair looking calmly at the television screen as it flickered into life. Standing to the left of him, she whispered, “watch my love, relax…and enjoy.” Seemingly in a trance, the man’s eyes became transfixed with the images in front of him, the woman’s tongue licking the sweat off his body, the aromatic smell of her perfume assaulting, yet stimulating his senses.

  There, on the screen, a gagged, naked young man on her operating table, the straps holding him down securely, his body shaved and spread-eagle across the frame of the cold white table. The camera angle was perfect! Now, over to the left, in she came, pushing her small steel trolley, complete with her surgical instruments. “This was about half way through his treatment. He was screaming far too much during surgery, so I had to keep him quiet.” The man in the chair nodded, his penis rigid, the figure on the table frantically struggling against the straps as the white gowned physician continued her surgery, her unwilling patient’s high pitched, pitiful screaming still being heard, even under the gag.

  Such exquisite artistry!

  The phone rang again! She looked at him, gasped, then paused the recording, the look in his eyes telling her…this time the phone must be answered. Yes, she knew that look, he was becoming fearfully angry. He could only be pushed so far! Only once had she seen him in full anger and it had terrified even her.

  No…never again!

  In seconds, the phone was in her hands, the word ‘ORATZ’ flashing once again on the facia, her finger hastily pressing the mobile’s send-receive button. “Wilhelm,” her voice was sultry, but antagonistic, “how are you?”

  “LANA! I HOPE YOU’RE NOT PLAYING THOSE STUPID FUCKING GAMES WITH HIM? NOT AT THIS TIME!” Wilhelm Oratz’s voice was loud, and violent.

  A long, deep sigh exhaled from the woman’s luscious lips, “Wilhelm, I can play my games with Otto whenever, and wherever I want.” A torrent of abuse filled her ear.

  Walking over to the man in the chair, she unfastened the buckles of the gag and removed it. “I’ll hold the phone for you,” she whispered, her eyes alight with depraved thoughts. Smiling, then licking her lips again, she put the handset near to her lover’s left ear.

  “Wilhelm?”

  “Otto, what are you doing at this important time, playing those stupid, sadistic games with that bitch?”

  The man in the chair knew his closest friend and confidante was not amused. “I am afraid I had no choice in the matter!”

  “So,” Oratz’s voice was venomous, “another of her spiteful tricks. I hate the fucking bitch!”

  “You hate all women, my friend.” The restrained man’s lips curled slightly upwards into an evil leer, his gaze searching that of his tormentors.

  The beautiful physician was still smiling, but not at him, her imagination blatantly wandering to the couple’s large, luxurious house on the outskirts of Paris. The house itself was pleasantly secluded, away from the main core of humanity that is normally associated with France’s capital city. Otto had paid a fortune to secretly transform the cellar into an operating theatre for their sadistic games. The physician sighed, revelling in the dark thoughts of her experiments with the lone, kidnapped tourists, surgically torturing them, slowly, agonisingly…to death. Pleasantly amused, she imagined Wilhelm Oratz, naked and secured on the gleaming, metallic, white table. God! How she would love to make the bastard suffer before she killed him. How she despised him and the hold he had on her lover. Just the very thought of the pain she could unleash on his body caused her to moisten between her legs. Yes…such a pleasant fantasy! Gently, passionately, her lips kissed the man in the chair as he continued his conversation.

  “So, I await your update on Phase One my friend. I have certainly enjoyed watching the news reports.”

  On the other end of the phone, Wilhelm Oratz laughed sadistically. “Yes, I am sure you have my Fuhrer. Phase One is complete, a thorough success.”

  Smiling with pride, the man in the chair spoke again. “Good, you have all done well! Pass my congratulations to our grenadiers in the field, their skills have been exceptional.”

  “Indeed they have my Fuhrer. Even their mimicking of the Middle Eastern accent has been perfect.”

  “Well trained indeed my friend. Now, recruitment, what interesting news do you have to give me?”

  “Recruitment goes well and has increased greatly over the last week or so. It seems our policies are well thought of within the organisations I am visiting. Tomorrow evening I am attending a meeting in Stuttgart, with a large contingency. I have no doubts regarding their loyalty to our cause my Fuhrer.” With a sense of deep satisfaction, the man in the chair nodded his head as Oratz continued. “The total number so far recruited for our Kampfgruppen is one hundred and fifty six. Their training goes well, and all weapons are now shipped in and ready for use.”

  A few seconds of silence fell across the room, both men being deep in thought. “I am delighted Wilhelm. Now, we move to Phase Two.”

  “Agreed.”

  With a sign of irritation, the woman spoke. “Otto, you have your report, let’s get back to our entertainment, shall we?”

  The man nodded. “Wilhelm”, his voice now deep and penetrating, “I look forward to seeing you soon. Remember my friend, my loyalty is always for you.”

  The reply was instantaneous, “and my honour, is always for you, my Fuhrer.”

  Momentarily, vivid memories came swirling back to the naked man in the chair, back to the early seventies and the two men’s years at Dresden University of Technology.

  Their new found friendship together had been a time of intense debate, for both studious, intelligent men had a fascination with the Third Reich, Adolf Hitler, the Waffen SS and most of all, a greater Germany. A Germany that other countries across Europe would once again both fear and respect. One day…they both knew that time would come.

  At the end of their University term, he had offered Oratz a place by his side within a newly formed division of his father’s company. Both men were aggressive, dynamic, unstoppable, their blood oath having secured their friendship and loyalty to their cause. Having slit the palms of their hands with an antique SS Dagger, the two had shook firmly, their voices as one. “My honour is my loyalty,” they had both said, in unison. It was the old Waffen SS Blood Oath! To be as one, to hold fast a friendship that only strong loyalty could bring, a loyalty that would one day be bathed in the blood of others.

  Now…that time had arrived.

  Swiftly, the mobile phone was pulled away from his ear, but this time he didn’t mind. Cursing under her breath and switching the phone off, the woman moved briskly towards her captive’s large office desk and tossed it into a drawer. She turned quic
kly, her doctor’s coat swirling around with her, and walked back, the leather gag once again in her hand. Gripping his hair, she wrenched the man’s head backwards and ordered him to ‘open wide’. As she expected, he didn’t, he just struggled, adding to her amusement and sexual stimulation. Forcibly, gripping his jaws tightly, she replaced the gag around his mouth, dementedly pulling the straps tight, making him grunt like a stuffed pig, his jaws aching under the pressure. “There, that’s better.” With a look of sheer sadism set firmly in her eyes, the attractive physician restarted the DVD and snapped on her latex gloves.

  The man on the screen was screaming terribly, her scalpel moving with precision, slowly, carefully, down his body, cutting, incising, causing so much…agony.

  Deeply engrossed and utterly fascinated, they both looked on. Roughly, she gripped her captive’s penis once again, squeezing, caressing as they both viewed the horrifying scenes on the television screen. The wretched form on the operating table suffered terribly, for she knew how to keep him alive, how to keep him awake, so she could enjoy his slow, excruciating torment. “He survived another two days of pain and pleasure, before his heart gave out.” Her voice was a sultry whisper, “now my darling, it’s time for me to work on you.”

  And she did work on him, for nearly two hours, using her medical and surgical skills, scientifically placing the needles into various parts of his anatomy, but always sterilising the areas of torture first. For him, his body writhing, rocking in the chair, his yelling confined under the gag, it was a time of agony…and ecstasy, his seed exploding forth in her gloved hands, covering his finely muscled stomach and torso, his enjoyment immense and deeply satisfying.

  Satiated, and utterly exhausted, the gag was removed, the tape cut loose and the handcuffs released, her tongue penetrating his lips, lasciviously reaching for his tonsils as she ran her seed covered hands over his body. He agreed to the penetration, his tongue flicking, darting inside her mouth. Both were spent, their energies exhausted as he spoke, in a low, growling tone. “My dear Lana, what would I ever do without you?”

  The room stank of bodily sweat, her tongue caressing his face before moving leisurely down his neck where her beautiful ice white teeth bit enticingly into his flesh. Her eyes smouldered as she mounted him, another display of powerful sexuality engulfing their bodies and minds, their rhythms flowing, one with the other. Screaming and sighing, her hips writhing, she shouted, “OH OTTO, YOU’RE AN ANIMAL!”

  And so they carried on into the evening, their bodies draining each other of further energy.

  Then, they relaxed, her face close to his. “Now,” she whispered, “it’s time to celebrate your success.” Slowly dismounting his engorged member, she walked over to the small office refrigerator and pulled out the ice-cold bottle of Champagne. The cork was pulled, the bubbling, gassy liquid filling two glasses.

  “Lana,” he whispered, a slight look of annoyance set on his rugged face, “you know I cannot consume too much alcohol!”

  With her beautiful, sultry eyes transfixed on his, she handed him a glass. “Just this one,” she whispered, her smile as captivating as ever. “To the success of Phase Two, my darling.”

  “Amen to that” the man said, his laughter cold, evil and intense.

  4

  LETHAL PASSENGER

  The satellite images were both violent and disturbing, yet Ashley Piper was transfixed by them.

  It was four days later, at SHAPE Headquarters.

  “Yes, it’s you Ash, hard to believe isn’t it?” Thoughtfully rubbing the fingertips of his right hand along his jaw, Piper sat as if mesmerised, not saying a word as Colonel Mann sat at his desk, carefully watching his reactions. “Forty three Iraqi troops in total, ripped to pieces…by you!” The Colonel sighed, his finger pointing at the video screen, a grave look of disbelief edging its way quickly across his stern face. “To be honest Ash, that thing inside you frightens the bloody hell out of me.” Slowly, the Colonel rose from his chair and poured himself a glass of water, offering one to Piper.

  Again, there was no response, just the same troubled look set firmly in Piper’s blue and amber eyes. Having sipped at his water, Charles Mann strode across the room and switched off the footage. “The Americans are naturally very interested in your…how shall I say…antics. It was their satellite directly over you at the time of the firefight.” Daylight flooded into the office as the blinds were drawn back.

  “And in the midst of it all…” Piper cast an intense glance at the Colonel, “I saved Dunstan and Collins’ lives.”

  “Indeed you did,” the Colonel nodded, “and that is why I, sorry, we…find you so utterly fascinating, and important!” Sipping his water again, his steely eyes not leaving Piper’s, Charles Mann continued the grim conversation. “From what we can ascertain Ash, whilst you are in this…wolf form, you seem to retain your perception of friend from foe. At least my colleagues and I are presuming this…at present.” The look on Charles Mann’s stern face now conveyed bold authority. “Tell me Ash,” he continued, “tell me what it’s like to be a wolf?” It was a clever question, a question to test Piper’s state of mind.

  “Sir…?”

  “The wolf inside you, what’s it like to have the senses and strength normal human beings lack?”

  Piper noticed the Colonel’s use of ‘normal’. He had pushed the word down his throat, testing for a reaction. It was a direct assault on Piper’s sensitivity, an assault to test the possibility of any psychological damage to his mind. “I…I don’t know sir.”

  “COME ON PIPER,” with an almighty thump, his quiet, confident tone becoming a shout, the Colonel’s fist slammed down on his desk, “YOU MUST REMEMBER SOMETHING OF YOUR TRANSFORMATION! THE FIREFIGHT, THE FEELINGS INSIDE YOU? THINK MAN, THINK!”

  Charles Mann’s voice had risen considerably. Was he angry? Inhaling deeply, Piper answered, his thoughts in turmoil. “Sir, the only thing I can remember was seeing everything in red…yes, a sort of mist, a haze… a red haze.”

  “Yes, go on, anything else?”

  “…the sounds around me, very loud, almost piercing…and the smells… gasoline, sweat and blood.” Shaking his head in disbelief Piper continued, “I remember the tracer racing past me, an Iraqi firing at me, the look of horror on his face…” he paused, then flinched, “…the rounds hitting my chest!”

  As the two men talked, the same high-ranking officer who had previously conversed with Colonel Mann was listening intently in another office, with every word being transmitted to where he was sitting by a hidden microphone.

  A woman sat listening too. She was deep in thought.

  Slowly, Piper ran the back of his hand across his brow, his thick, dark blonde hair, matted with sweat.

  “Alright, relax Ash.” Charles Mann’s tone returned to normal, a calming smile weaving its way towards the worried looking man sat in front of him. What was Piper thinking right now, he thought? Could he control the terrifying beast inside him, and the bloodlust that now ran in his veins? Could he be the ultimate weapon against terrorism? Did he dare show Piper the recorded video footage from Rostov? Only Commander Hertschell and Doctor Descard could answer that question! It was time for him to meet them. “Ash, answer this final question, and I want an honest answer…”

  “Sir?”

  “Are you afraid…of what’s inside you?”

  Piper’s facial expression suddenly became aggressive, the look on his face taking Colonel Mann somewhat by surprise. “No sir, I am not afraid, as you so quaintly put it, of what’s inside me!”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Again Piper sensed the Colonel probing into his mind. “Because I have to live with it sir. I trust it…the wolf is a friend.”

  Nodding his head with satisfaction Charles Mann rose from his chair, walked across to Piper and patted him warmly on the shoulder. “An honest and admirable answer. Now then…” Brusquely moving towards the door, the Colonel’s mood lightened somewhat, “let’s organise some refres
hment shall we? What would you like Ash, coffee or tea?” Again, the calming smile returned.