Mister Wolf

“Mister Wolf, please make the acquaintance of Madam Generous,” announced the party’s host Damian Foresworn.

I nodded at the lady in the peacock suit who hid behind a half formed mask. I myself felt well concealed in my canine disguise. I detected something behind that beak and too much pinkness that I thought I knew. Those watery blue and grey eyes, or at least the one I could clearly view reminded me of a girl I knew and a VERY memorable night in Paris.

“Mister Wolf, your first fundraiser?” the flamingo fluted.

“Perhaps yes, perhaps no,” I growled, following that up with a fang filled smirk. The flamingo’s voice was not an accent I was sure of but then with the right equipment it was not hard to alter a voice; especially in our line of work.

The flamingo’s mask turned toward the stage where the musicians played and the singer dressed as a microphone crooned his heart out.

“Do wolves dance?”

“Ms Generous we may not fly but a wolf is very dexterous upon four paws and two…”

Taking the familiar flamingo by one wing I stepped out amongst a menagerie of zebra, gazelle, apes, a crew of pirates, even an appropriate hippopotamus. High above us all a glitter ball span and a clock counted down.

We span, the flamingo and I, the dance floor becoming a costumed blur. The music swayed us, span us about until we found ourselves surrounded by pink.

“Generous, you know better than to lead a wolf into a hen house…” cackled one of the other birds.

My hackles rose.

“Normally it is a fox you wish to keep from the hen house…” I rumbled. “A wolf you should keep from your door…”

“Do we know you?” asked the cock, you seem vaguely familiar.

I saw a flash of silver and from beneath one wing the bird brought forth a Berretta.

“Let us get some air perhaps,” cooed Generous. “A dance floor is no place to see fur and feathers fly.”

Begrudgingly I allowed the flock to escort me from the Grand Hall. As we left the crowd behind I peeked over my shoulder and took note of the ticking clock. The music would play another half hour more. After that the true show would begin.

The stars were bright that night and the moon full. The streetlamps were dull this side of town and with all safely within the exuberant home of Mister Foresworn there seemed to be no eagle eyes out to catch this flock of pink surrounding the grey furred wolf. My mind ticked extra quick as each bird seemed to find a deadly hand pistol from somewhere within their costume. I calculated almost a dozen in the flock and realized this wolf was short a few claws.

“Mister Bond, if that is indeed whom you are,” began the flamingo cock. “We believe it is now time for MI6 to stand down.”

It was interesting for me to discover the Italians thought me British. They had me all wrong and did not even begin to realize how personally important this mission was. Regardless of what organization I worked for, or whether I worked for any at all I had no support with this. This was lone wolf and at that very moment it felt too much like lame wolf.

“Mister Bond?” I howled. “You flatter me.”

“Flatter you?” cooed one of the mod, an older hen by the tone of her threat. “Nay, I propose to flatten you.

The bird was long-legged and surprisingly swift. The reverse sweep caught me off guard but gave me the moment I needed. As I felt naught but air beneath me I whisked out four of the razor sharp stilettos I had hidden away. As my back met sidewalk my knives found four individual feet. Cries of pain echoed my gasp for air. As I patted myself down for more claws I felt the cool butt of one of the pistols jam against the top of my head.

“End of the line, Mister Bond, Mister Wolf, whoever it is you may be,” cackled the cock.

A second later there was a pop and a flash from just within my peripheral and the head of the cock snapped back. Two more pops quickly followed after and two more flamingos fell. Now there were two birds standing, four with me on the floor and two headless birds leaking into the gutter. The two birds flew allowing me time to stab the others. As I gingerly rose to my feet again I carefully examined my environs, seeking the shooter. From the alleyway came two more flashes and the final pair of birds fell.

“Mister Wolf!” called the voice of Madam Generous and it dawned on me only then that I’d not seen that familiar blue and grey eye amongst the flock. She must have slipped away and watched as the scene had played out.

“Madam Generous, thank you,” I called back.

From the darkness of a close by alley I saw the figure appear. Spiked dark hair, the mask removed. A long nosed sniper rifle was slung casually over one shoulder.

“Ming? It was you,” I then stated with a thankful smile hidden behind my own mask.

“You do know me,” Agent Samantha Ming of the South Korean Special Police replied, somewhat relieved.

I fumbled in my hurry to remove my own disguise.

“Johnny! I could have sworn like Hai and Joan that you were indeed the famous James Bond,” Ming announced.

I took the compliment in my stride.

“Ming! We must get back inside,” I announced. “The Gemini statuette that is going up for auction tonight is the key to my discovering who kidnapped my nephew and niece.”

“So this is personal Johnny?”

I nodded at the question.

“No back up? No safety net?”

Again I nodded.

Ming smiled.

“Count me in, Mister Wolf.”

As the music came to an end and the clock hit zero the herd of costumed characters spilled back out onto the street. There was a number of screams as the stabbed or shot flamingos were discovered but by that stage Agent Ming and I had made our way back into the building via a fire escape. Just in time we caught the final bid on Lot 358.

“He looks somewhat familiar,” Ming murmured but I shook my head in disagreement.

“Surely the actual bidder has not appeared in person?” I queried.

“In my experience these auctions are rarely attended by the actual buyer,” Samantha explained making me wonder how many of these types of events the Korean had witnessed.

As we spoke the shadow on the figure we were tracking on the dance floor began to move.

“You go left, I’ll go right,” the agent announced. I nodded and followed the simple instruction.

Three steps in I discovered I was being flanked. The lives of my niece and nephew both relied upon my next decision. Lucky for me my claws can fly. Many an hour have I spent perfecting my technique with the stiletto. I had now refind my attacks with those blades to a very fine and very deadly accuracy. The goons I had on my tail did not last long. A blade to the throat of one and the chest of the other proved flimsy costume material is not the best protection. I unmasked one, a gazelle and then the other, a gorilla. Korean both which made me wonder just how far I could trust Ming. I lolloped along increasing my pace and burst into a side room where I had seen Agent Ming vanish merely moments before.

"Johnny... How..?" Samantha cried, her head snapped around to witness my grand entrance.

"Samantha!" I growled.

"Too late!" shouted the agent and the statue in her hands exploded.

As Samantha pushed by me and made her escape I rushed over to the rubble and tried to piece the bottom back together.

It took me the best bit of half an hour, by which time security had been drawn to the room. As I was led away for questioning I had discovered what I needed to know, a date, a time and most importantly an address. I had also figured out that this all revolved around me. It was personal.

I came clean and explained my hunches to the boss. He sprang me and committed a chopper and a handful of our finest.

"After tonight it is six months suspension," the boss announced and I knew there was no getting out of it. I was just glad he had not taken me off the case. Something so close to home I could never walk away from.

We fanned out around the seemingly empty airport hangar and made our move. Swift, sure, we were like the pack and there were two cubs that needed saving. Our approach was purposeful, planned and precise. With a single howl shared by the pack we breached the hangar and dealt with shadow after shadow until all that remained was that lone flamingo.

“Why?” I asked.

Samantha Ming smiled, a pistol butt at the temple of my niece and nephew both.

“You watch them die as I had to watch my children die…”

“No, you must die that they can live…” I replied as my blades flew.

Wrapped in blankets I hugged tight those two cubs as the chopper flew us away. I thought about that six month span ahead of me and knew it was exactly what I needed. Half a year to stay by the cubs, watch over them and protect them as I should have from the start. My place was with the pack. My place was with family.