“Are you sure about this?” Marti whined.
“Yes” I told her, tightening the straps I had just purchased from 7th Heaven hours ago snuggly around her ankles and wrists, not sure at all about anything.
“I think I should still be in the hospital, I can’t feel my face” she looked around nervously.
“You’re fine” I assured her.
That’s not what the lady at the hospital said when I signed her out but there was no reason to upset her. She’s one of those high-strung sorts. My theory is that in short order she’s going to be a lot worse or a lot better so either way it doesn’t matter. Or maybe nothing will happen at all and then it will matter. Regardless. That was my position.
Her eyes continued to dart around “Why do I have to be tied down like this? It makes me nervous.”
“I thought you and Sam were into this kind of stuff.”
She blushed so hard I thought her head was going to explode “What?! No!” she chuckled nervously “No! We don’t . . . we never . . . even if . . . no! Sam and I . . . no!”
While she was sputtering and stammering and denying (I certainly don’t care either way) I checked the manual one last time. But Ela, you don’t speak or read German. True but I think I got the gist of it. Communication is mostly contextual you know. Plus there were pictures.
What was I doing? Well, I’ll tell you. Sweet Lou, that’s the talking blue lizard, told me that at the end of the world war some Nazis launched a rocket at Russia. And by the end of the war I mean that the war was over and they were being jerks about having lost said war and were shooting a rocket anyway. As is the Nazi way.
The payload of that rocket was a bunch of werewolf “spoor” the very smart and not at all insane idea being that this would case a plague of werewolfism would breakout in Karelia and that would be a problem for the Russians. Sidenote, Sweet Lou told me that werewolfs are a real thing. People get their panties in an uproar because the Nazis had a plan called Operation Werewolf, which was just supposed to be a normal resistance to occupation thing – they were fighters pretending not to be fighters.
But the joke is that they actually did have a werewolf program, it was just called something else. And it totally worked. What they learned is that werewolf soldiers aren’t terrible viable, they don’t really care who they kill so unless you can get them into enemy territory around the full moon they do more damage to you than your enemies. So the idea of weaponizing werewolfishness became, instead of a super-soldier program, essentially germ warfare, hence the shit-bomb. Make people on the other side werewolfs was the plan.
This very well thought out and thoroughly researched plan didn’t work, because how could it, but it gave the Russians some werewolf germs to play with and they started working on their own werewolf causing missiles. They might have tested one in Afghanistan but maybe they were never used at all. In the 1980s a Russian guy was like “this country is about to fall apart and I don’t want this werewolf research in the hands of the Russian mafia” so he stole it all and ran away to America. Defecting they call that according to the Americans. The show I mean, not the kind of people from America. I mean I guess them too. You know what I mean.
All the werewolf papers and reverse vaccines and stuff ended up here in KC somehow, probably because no one really believed it was a real thing and it got stuck in some crank file. It wasn’t guarded, it wasn’t under lock and key, it was just in some desk drawer in the archives office. I walked in when the super old man who works in archives was at lunch and took it.
Sweet Lou’s theory was that the only way to defeat a giant pig monster was with another animal themed monster, in this case a wolf. It made sense at the time, possibly because of the concussion, but in the harsh light of day it seems a little silly. Killing pigs is my whole job, I could probably come up with something less drastic like werewolfinization. Like a large caliber rifle perhaps. Something like that. But I had already gone to the trouble of stealing the files and buying the stuff, plus I feel like a lizard wouldn’t lie to me.
Which is how we got to where we are right now, namely with my assistant Marti bare ass naked on the floor of my apartment, trussed up in bondage gear and waiting for her injection. I should have set up an OnlyFans for this part, make a little money on the side while we were saving the world from mutant pigmen. I mean Marti is as hard and flat as a coffee table but there have to be men that are into that, and they probably pay a premium because of their specialized tastes.
“I don’t know” she said for not the second time “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this.”
I jabbed her in the ass that she doesn’t even have with syringe number one of seventeen (or so I kind of lost count if we’re being honest, which I feel we are). Said syringe was one of those scary old-time ones that are made of glass and are huge and freaky. Like you’d see in a horror movie.
“Too late now!” I said cheerfully as I depressed the plunger thingy protruding from her rump “for science!”
