Chapter 5     

I stay with Sax a while longer, to review over basic supplies we’ll need. Then I disappear back into the twisting alleys that line the streets, the dimmed backstreets match my mood perfectly with the news Sax just gave me, The Guides want more sentient wolves to fight for them, Aguillo doesn’t want anything to do with it, and for good reason, The Guides don’t know how to associate with one.  I pace the alley for several minutes trying to find a way to make sense of why our leaders want more to begin with.  
Frightening our opponents back a few paces, but that’s a temporary solution, our enemy has more people, weapons and technology. They’ll blast us and our efforts away for sure if they saw a battalion of werewolves on their doorstep.
Espionage, that’s out of the logic as well, I stand out in a crowd even in a disguise, hats and trench coats aren’t enough to hide me even in a dense crowd, the way I act gives me away, the scents in the air, and rapid movement distract me too often even when I’m focused on my hunt.
As my mind delves deeper into why the Guides want more wolf soldiers, my strides become quicker. The high walls almost seem to confine me, like a cage. I shake my head at the thought, every reasonable corner I’ve turned has been a dead trail. Not one reason makes sense. I need to fresh look at this, and the only one who can do that is Jer, otherwise this issue is going to gnaw at my mind until I figure it out.  
It takes longer to get to Jericho’s place than usual, mainly because the roofs are spaced further apart, and the fact I don’t have a current carrying me in his direction. I arrive at his doorstop a little winded, but nothing more, only this time I remember to knock.
A clatter comes from somewhere inside, followed by a short string of curses, before Jer opens the door.
“What now?” he demands, seeing my face again, “You just had me break my best mug.”
I sigh, if there’s one thing that Jer will covet more than computers, it’s coffee mugs, most are chipped or missing the handle, and worn, but he uses them.
“Sorry Jer, but I had to come, I got some problems,” It’s easier to apologize to him at this point, than stand around arguing about something that can’t be helped.
Jericho opens the door wider, letting me in, “Get in here,”
I step in, and glance towards his kitchen, sure enough, scattered shards of ceramic are lying in a puddle of split coffee. I shake my head at the mess, before sitting down on the warped floor boards.
“Alright Trent, what do you need now?” Jer asks, looking me over, still slightly annoyed at the fact he now has one mug less than what he had.
“Several things,” I begin immediately. “Look me and Sax can get all the supplies we need to get in the place, we just don’t have the means to find the place they have this meeting, or why we’re going in, you do.”
“I can give you some answers now if you want,” Jer laughs. “The Van Rapier building, next month at two in the afternoon, to discuss something called Ragnarok,”
“Alright, Jer, what don’t you know?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in jest even as I felt my gut twist at the word ‘Ragnarok’.
“The room, level, and wing,” he confesses, “I just got the basics from Aguillo, the rest from their web page.”
I nod, “fine, just find some of the building’s ventilation, blueprints, and security system by the end of the week,” I order, “Me and Sax will try mapping out the streets outside the building and getting supplies, if it’s not too much trouble, we’ll meet at Sax’s place on Thursday.” I pause to catch my breath that seemed to rush out of me all at once.
“You okay Lobo?” Jer asks looking me over.
“Sorry,” I apologize quickly, slumping down, feeling a little guilty at my brashness. “I just want to do this without getting you or Sax killed.”
“Mutt, I’d be doin’ the same thing in your place” Jericho laughs, “trust me.”
I roll my eyes at his comment, snorting in disgust, then I decide to ask him what my mind has not been able to grasp.
“Jer, How much do you know about the Guides?”
“Not much,” he mutters, “I know two names, and I ain’t sure if they’re real or not, they difficult to catch on the streets, impossible with a computer.” he waves his hands wildly at his own computer “Why do you ask?”
“I got some news from Sax,” I admit, “He says that Aguillo has their ears right now, and they want more . . . Werewolves.” I glance down as frustration settles in my mind. “I’m just trying to figure out why.”
“God, tell me you joking, Lobo,” he groans “I mean seriously, we got our hands full enough.”
“I know that,” I snarl, “But I just want to know what they’re thinking they can gain in this.”
“No telling with those folks, spy work isn’t the answer, and brute force, might just work,”
“No, they’ll want a long term victory,” I explain. “with a bunch of beasts on the frontlines, yeah, we’ll scare them back a few steps, but that’s just gonna have them come back and obliterate us permanently.”
“Hmm, good point, scratch another one off the list.” he agreed, “anything with technology or tactical planning is out of the question too.”
“I know, the only real thing I’m useful for is,” I stare angrily at my blunt claws. “is killing.”
“That and you got the nose, ears and sixth sense that most of us don’t got.” Jericho added, “It’s like you’re our scout, and bodyguard all in one.”
“Yeah, just hand me the tux and a gold plated gun and I’m dangerous,”
“Wolf, Trent Wolf,” he replies in the phony James Bond accent.
“Not funny,” I growl at him, giving him a firm glare, not that he notices.
“Except you still gotta save the world, and you already have ‘get the girl’ part down,” Jer prattles on, grinning at his witty remark.
“Jericho, do I look like I have the numbers double-O, seven tattooed on my forehead?” I snarl, not amused at his pun between me and Pasha.
“Well the fur makes it kinda difficult to see, so there’s always that chance,” he smiles cockily.
“Why do I even try?” I ask quietly, them attempt to steer back to the previous conversation. “Jer, are there any other ideas you have about the Guides?”
“Sorry, Mutt, all the logical choices don’t add up to anything, unless you think that they want to have oversized wolves as body guards,” he sighs, tapping his keyboard, slowly. “And I’ll see what I can get before our tactical approach meeting.”
I take that as my cue to get out, and find myself once again in the alleys, with more questions than what I came with. I headed back to the training facility looking for something to punch, and I needed the workout anyway. The roofs was still the longer route, but I didn’t want to be swimming against the canal’s current.
The former warehouse’s scent matches my mood, sour, but energized.  Most of the trainers move out of my way, allowing me to approach the arena.
Get a grip, Trent. I mutter, shaking my head forcing myself to work on the suspended sand bags that serve as makeshift punching bags. My fist meets the bag, causing it to swing back, left, right, left hook, dodge, right, left, right hook. The rhythm continues until the bag is spiraling as it swings. My feet move stealthily to the front of it, to send the heavy bag away from me again. The chain creaks as my blows become more violent, my feet shuffle across the floor that is caked with sweat and dirt, while my fists fire off frenzy jabs and crosses. It takes a while for my calloused palms to feel slick from the sweat,, the entire time My mind is winding over the Guides, a dozen perspectives, and still no answers
They want justice, but we’re losing numbers, we’re having trouble finding more kids, why are they worried about having more wolves?
An answer hits me like a sand bag. Less human casualties, I’m more animal than anything, sentient powerful, but I’m not human. my curiosity turns to rage, while my next blow sends the bag reeling  back. I turn to give it a cross, but the sack doesn’t come back.
I look up, and see Pasha holding the bag in place, her heels digging into the floor.
“Trent?” She asks, peering from behind the sand bag.
“What?” I snarl, lowering my fists slightly.
“Trent, what is it?” she persists.
I reply with a growl.
“Do I have to beat the answers out of you?” she remarks snidely
“Pasha, don’t,” I snort.
“Then spill,” Pasha replies letting go of the sand bag.
“No.”
“Then let’s fight,” she challenges, nodding towards the arena.
I wanted so bad to just walk away and forget the whole thing, but I wanted to hurt something, badly.
“Let’s,” I agree heading towards the arena, there were two teams sparring, and both got out of the ring when I got in, Pasha right behind me.
“Alright, anything goes,” She stated firmly when she was in the ring. “just no teeth.”
I nod, then place myself into an attack position, circling around her, she puts her fists into a guard position, waiting.  I step forward and lash out with blunt claws. Pasha backs off, letting her forearms take the blow, but she instantly drops to the floor, kicking my legs out from under me allowing me the effort to pounce. Pasha slides out of my way, forcing me away with a rapid series of kicks, before flipping back onto her feet. I keep all my feet on the ground, a perfect combination of stability, balance, and power. Again I leap trying to get her into a vulnerable position. Her arms, hands, and fingers are now constantly moving, providing distractions, the wolf follows the movements in frustration, watching them for signs of attack. My eyes are latched on her torso, expecting an attack to erupt from her taunting form, I move forward, wanting to keep the advantage of an easy strike.
She keeps within range, baiting me to come closer, dashing out of the way when I decide to attack. The frustration was growing and I growl and close more of the distance, ever focused on her arms. The instant I come forward Pasha hits me furiously in the chest, with the weapon I had forgotten about, her feet. I stumble back, but she takes the advantage, and gives me a savage sidekick in my ribs, knocking me to the floor. Breathless I try to move away from her, desperate to regain any type of advantage. However, Pasha takes my desperation forcing me down belly flat on the floor, completely helpless.
“I win,” she whispers in my ear.
Something happened that I regret doing when she said those words, maybe it was my frustration with the Guides, Aguillo and the mission, it might’ve been her tone. Whatever the reason was it set me off. I wanted victory, I wanted blood.
I thrust myself up, Pasha crashes to the floor beside me. Easy prey. I pounce on top of her instantly.
“Trent,” she says uneasily when . Words, meaningless sounds. I growl in reply
“Trent, stop,” Pasha demands, her green eyes flashing with worry.
My claws dig deep into her arms, pinning them securely to the mat. I was victor now, I was alpha. I was-. My thoughts of victory are interrupted with several hands and arms grab me off of my prey, dragging me away from her.
“Trent!” someone yells taking hold of the back of my neck, shaking me harshly.
Trent? Was I, “Oh, God,” I pant shaking my head, staring around in disbelief. “What happened?” I ask, even as I knew the answer.
“What happened?” Aguillo spat, “you nearly killed Pasha, you idiotic beast!”
“I didn’t, I mean,” I struggle to say something worthwhile. “Is she alright?”
“Trent?” she inquires, peering out from behind Aguillo. My gray fuzz coated ears perk up along with my head, perfectly ecstatic to hear her.
“Pasha, I didn’t mean to,” I blurt out immediately.
“That’s enough, both of you,” Aguillo interrupts our exchange. “Pasha go home, you need to rest. You,” he turns his gray eyes glaring pointedly at me. “We need to talk.” if I had the rest of my tail, I was sure it would be between my legs .
I nod mutely, my muscles tensing in the guards tight grips.
“Are you calmed down now?” Aguillo asks.
“I think so,” I answer firmly.
“Let’s get some air.” he nods toward the door, his guards then usher us out into the muggy afternoon heat.