Surplus to Requirements
a wolf in low light
Project Werewolf built perfect weapons. No one planned for what came after.
Content Warnings: military violence, institutional abuse, body transformation, trauma responses, references to war and experimentation
Captain Mitchell Rask is sent to evaluate Master Sergeant Reid Lyall, the Army’s most successful product of Project Werewolf. At a remote ranch, Mitchell discovers a wounded soldier and a unit behaving more like a pack than men. As he witnesses what the experiment has done to them, he realizes Command has no plan for soldiers engineered to be weapons — except to decide when they’re no longer needed.
Captain Mitchell Rask, PhD, Army psychologist, let his eyes drift from his computer to the inflight movie. He yawned as the cavalry officers onscreen decided to go rogue to save a herd of horses deemed surplus to requirements. Just another anti‑military movie. His eyes flicked back to the transcript of the call.
He didn’t dare click over to the other files on a public flight, but he didn’t need to. The generals at Command had been on the nose — and lacking a sense of history — when they’d named the operation. He pulled up the non‑classified part of Reid Lyall’s file. After 10/15, the notation listed him as a volunteer for Project Werewolf.
The drive to the ranch had been long, and Mitchell hadn’t been sure the tranq darts he’d been issued would work. It had taken three, with the beast snapping at him the whole time. Now he dropped to his knees outside the exhausted creature’s cage, feeling nearly as drained as it looked.
The sedative had finally taken hold, and they could safely approach the massive wolf. The wolf lifted his head groggily. Mitchell wondered if the man who lived in that body was completely gone. Lyall’s eyes had changed to the gold of a wolf. From what Jett said, they were always the wolf’s eyes these days.
Knowing how risky this was, Mitchell kept his movements slow and open. They knew so little about what the experiment had done to the volunteers. It had given them the edge necessary to survive the hell the battlefield had become — but what else had it done?
“Master Sergeant Lyall, my name is Mitchell Rask. I’m an Army psychologist. Your friend called when…” Mitchell gestured to the chains.
“I’m sorry, Reid,” Jett said softly. “I—I didn’t know what to do.”
Lyall whined, tail thumping. Jett approached. Mitchell stared.
Even though Jett was ostensibly human, the wolf was bleeding into his behavior. His head dropped. He stepped forward like a wolf testing the ice. He crouched before his sergeant and would not meet the wolf’s eyes.
Lyall caught Jett’s hand with his mouth. Sharp teeth didn’t draw blood, but the wolf relentlessly pulled Jett closer.
Jett went willingly. His head ducked beneath the massive wolf’s head. The wolf nuzzled him, finally pressing his head down into the locks. Jett seemed almost giddy. His arms went around the wolf’s neck, his nose pressed tight against the scruff. His tension eased.
“You’re really not mad?” Jett asked. The wolf shook his head. It looked extremely odd. Jett’s hands fumbled with the latches on the chains Lyall used to restrain himself. He cursed as he came to a bloody patch. The wolf winced but made no other sign it hurt him.
The wolf licked Jett’s cheek.
“What the hell!”
Mitchell looked toward the head of the basement stairs. The other members of the former team barreled down. Their growls echoed. The wolf struggled to his feet. Jett wove his fingers into the wolf’s fur to steady him. “Reid!”
“What’s happening?” one of the men whispered.
“Dear God.” Seeing the blood, another whirled on Mitchell. “What did you do to him?”
Jett bit his lower lip. “He locked himself down here three days ago.”
“What?” The man gasped and turned on Mitchell. Mitchell recoiled as he saw the claws extend. Distantly he thought, I should have come in civilian dress. Cause of death will be listed as wolf attack, but it is really my terminal stupidity. The man’s voice was barely human as he choked out, “Bastards.”
A low growl rumbled from the wolf. The man advancing on Mitchell stopped abruptly. His head ducked; he turned back to the wolf, tilting his head aside, exposing his throat. Claws retracted.
Another man clattered down the stairs. He pushed past them and dropped beside the wolf. He buried his head beneath Lyall’s. The wolf squealed as he pressed against the wound, and the man jerked back, studying it. “Oh God, it’s my fault.”
The wolf lurched forward. Mitchell watched as the wolf shifted back to human. The wound continued to ooze blood as the master sergeant took back his human shape. He shivered in the cool of the basement. Breathing hard, Lyall reached up to the latest arrival. He drew him close and ran his nose along his throat, then paused over the same shoulder that was injured on Lyall. “Are you okay, Dave?”
“Hurts still.” Dave swallowed. Head down, he looked at the knees of each of the men. “I should be dead.” He finally met Jett’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Jett muttered. “You left, asshole.”
“I—” Dave caught Lyall as he stumbled. He exchanged a look with Jett. Then, looking at Lyall’s knees, he whispered, “You did it by yourself.”
“No one else would have.” Lyall swayed. Jett and Dave steadied him. “Who shot him, doc?”
“I don’t know.”
Lyall crossed to a cabinet. He dressed quickly. Then he tossed something at Mitchell. “It’s a decent movie, but it’s not based on a true story.”
Mitchell stared at the case, eyes fixed on the title, and blinked. How had he known the inflight selection? “You are also not horses.”
“You suspect.”
Mitchell nodded.
“So, what happens to the monsters you have on a leash when they are surplus to requirements?”
Suddenly, Mitchell did not like the answer.
