27 Sep WarWolf

Posted at 11:00h in Strange and Unexplained by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on September 27, 2024

“WarWolf”

Written by Matt Martinek
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 8 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.

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Working for the defense industry has always been a trip. I started out in the late 90’s, working out of Yuma, AZ, engineering the next wave of unmanned surveillance drones for the U.S. military. Technology had come so far by this point…nothing seemed off-limits, and the think tank was always full. I was proud to be of assistance, and took my job extremely seriously, as we all did. It was life or death for our folks in the field, and it was our job to lessen the load in any way we possibly could. But, unfortunately, after Sept. 11^th, 2001, this load seemed much too heavy to bear, at least with the technology we were coming up with. They wanted next level. They wanted to kick some ass. They wanted to weaponize the drones. Being as pissed off as I was (along with every other red-blooded American), I was all in. Truthfully, I wanted to kick some ass, too. And, just as the patriotic fervor in my heart was ready to burst through in my work, I was pulled from the project, and reassigned to Butte, Montana. No explanation, and given only one week to pack my shit up and go. I simply did not understand. Needless to say, I felt a certain kind of way about my perceived demotion.

Moving from Arizona to Montana in the dead middle of winter was an absolutely shocking experience, both physically and mentally. I felt like I must’ve really fucked up somewhere to deserve this kind of punishment. But, what did I do? Or were they simply cleaning house and looking for new blood? I just wasn’t sure. Regardless, with my tail between my legs, I showed up for work, ready for whatever toilet-scrubbing duties they had in store for me. I was not prepared for what lie ahead.

There we were…a group of eight engineers, waiting in front of what looked to be a modified airplane hangar, in the middle of nowhere, at 5 AM in the morning. We blew smoke rings of crystallized breath and nicotine at each other, and engaged in small-talk while we waited in the freezing cold. They were all as confused as I, as to why we were reassigned, and for what end purpose it could possibly serve. Eventually, a middle-aged man in a large, green parka goaded us into the hangar with a simple movement of his hand. Apparently, introductions were not yet deserved. We checked in at the front desk, provided our IDs and clearances, then followed him, past rows of empty, dust-covered desks and black computer screens, towards the back of the hangar. You would have thought that this setup was an obsolete, ancient remnant until we moved further back and the two, extremely large holding cells came into view. We all looked at each other and snickered as we attempted to take it all in.

I wasn’t sure if we were relocated to an army facility or an actual zoo. The holding cells were partitioned right next to each other, surrounded by thick Plexiglas, and outfitted with trees, stones, dirt, ponds and one angry looking gray wolf smack dab in the middle of each, just staring at us, salivating. What in the hell was this? We then heard a voice from behind…

“They will be your best friends for the next year, fellas. The one on the left is Steve, and the one on the right is Chloe. Sure, Steve’s a bit larger, but don’t let Chloe fool you. She’s a lot bitchier, as you will quickly find out. The goal is to replicate their mannerisms, habits…even their deepest instincts. You will watch them, get to know them…hell, maybe even get to love them. The game has changed, and we have to change with it. In exactly one year’s time we go into full-on production of these units. Obviously, to recreate a functional killing machine like this out of steel, titanium, and fiberglass in such as small window of time will be a nearly impossible task. But you will do it. Because that is what you are here for. To create the WarWolf.” Just as the man finished speaking, a door at the back of each holding cell opened, and a young fawn was led into each. It didn’t take long for the blood spray to pepper the glass with the sound of splattering paint. And, just as the man said, Chloe proved to be a lot meaner than Steve…the mess she left behind proved it. One of the engineers vomited at the sight of it. That person was immediately let go. A man down already. This one was not going to be a project for the squeamish.

The fellow who introduced us to the wolves turned out to be our project manager, Joseph. He was actually the man in the parka who we met outside the hangar on that first day. His job was plain and simple…to lay out the initial plan, to make sure we stayed on task, and most importantly, to ensure that the deadline would be met. Other than that, he pretty much stayed out of the way and let us do our jobs. We were all chosen specifically, from different parts of the U.S., to combine our specific strengths together in order to create the monstrosity that they envisioned. The WarWolf, as it was to be called, would serve two very different and separate functions. First, it would be used for non-lethal capture. Second, it would be used for the elimination of a target. There was no room for error. We had to design the perfect combination of size, speed, and violence, but with the precision necessary to ensure the safe passage of a prisoner, as well. We got to work, and didn’t look back.

Out of everyone there, I was the one who chose to spend the most time studying the wolves. Not only because I was honestly enthralled, but because I was a mechanical engineer. Range of motion was important, and the more time I studied Steve and Chloe, the easier my job would be. The pieces I designed would need to fit perfectly…to move together seamlessly. Though it would be impossible to recreate their beautiful movements 100%, the programmers and I were going to try to come as close as we could. The wolves had special handlers designated to them, for the feeding, and for the cleaning of the cells, but I also took part in these duties whenever I had the chance. Intimacy with my subject was very important. The rest of the guys thought I was nuts, but I was simply concerned with the finished product.

There was really no time for anything but work. Long, 12-hour days for months upon months, with Sunday being our only day off. Some of us chose to come in on that day, too. One year to design, prototype, and sign off on such a thing is laughable. In a regular circumstance, something that complicated would take at least three years to complete, at the very minimum. We put our time in every day, then went back to our separate apartments and slept. And maybe ate, if we had the energy. All the while, we kept up on current events, and watched Al-Qaeda dismantle our brethren, literally. We made it a point to watch the beheading videos, to keep us cognizant of the reason why we were there in the first place. That, mixed with watching Steve and Chloe bloodily mangle their prey with impunity on a daily basis, created somewhat of an unhealthy energy, which became apparent as Joseph modified our creative direction. He told his bosses that we simply did not have enough time to design and program for the two functions of the WarWolf…only enough for one. They needed to make a choice if they wanted to hit their all-important deadline. And, of course, they picked the bloodier option. Destruction of the target at all costs. The darkness had set in.

At around month 9 of our little experiment, the decision to let Steve and Chloe go was made. Joseph felt that there was nothing more to learn from them, so one evening, at the end of shift, the handlers took them both out the back door and let them free in the forest behind the hangar, back into the wilderness where they belonged. I was sad to see them go. But I understood that the time was dwindling, and there was only one thing left to do…to build the fucking thing. Thankfully, as our project took precedence above all, the custom metalwork we needed was expedited to us as quickly as possible. Every day, I was able to put more and more puzzle pieces together, until, before I knew it, I was screwing in the razor-sharp stainless-steel teeth, one by one, and admiring the thing that we had constructed. I stood back in amazement, trying to process what stood before me. Sure, Steve and Chloe were the models, but the finished product was…something else. It is hard to describe in words the visual overload that the WarWolf demanded. 7 feet long, 4.5 feet tall from paw to ear-tip, 1,400 lbs. Gleaming titanium plating covered the entirety of the beast, except for a 10-inch mesh-covered speaker mounted in its chest, for those moments when the remote operator would need to throw out a verbal command to a fleeing target or possible comrade. A fully functional robot werewolf of the army! But unlike those sci-fi films and comics of old, this werewolf was very real, and a million times more dangerous. And the full moon? That was replaced by a simple flip of a switch.

We were all so very excited to see our creation creep out from the recesses of our imaginations into reality. From the very moment that the hum of the battery entered my ears, my heart began to pound with ferocity. The solenoids actuated, the pneumatics forced the life breath, and the behemoth’s eyes gleamed with a glowing electric blue. It was alive!!! The front leg took its first step, and the WarWolf slowly began to circle our group, with its huge paws pounding the concrete floor.

My excitement quickly turned to fright as we backed into each other clumsily, and the robot’s jaws opened, producing those violent blades of steel that I, myself, had designed. The mechanisms underneath produced an eerie whine, like that of an animal in the throes of death. Just as I was readying an escape of some sort, the creature stopped in its tracks, and the speaker blared aloud with Joseph’s voice… “Pretty fucking scary, isn’t it?” It sure as hell was.

All that night, as I was alone in my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about our creation, or the fear that I felt as it approached me. I did not sleep. Thankfully, I knew that the next day was probably going to be my last on the project. One more trial, and if it went well, it would be off to quality assurance again, and hopefully the full production of 10 units would start shortly thereafter. I was relieved that the end was in sight. And although I knew we had succeeded in our tasking, pride was something that I was stumbling in the dark to find. We had created a monster. And many lives would surely be extinguished by it. That is quite the heavy burden for any conscience to bear. I remembered that long-forgotten rule of the Lord… “Thou Shalt Not Kill.”

The next day, I felt a bit of déjà vu as our group found ourselves in the same position as that very first day…in front of the holding cells. But this time it was not Chloe or Steve, but instead the WarWolf itself, eyes ablaze, awaiting its final trial. I knew that it was going to be bloody, and I had already imagined what it would look like as the steel jaws ripped the deer into sinewy shreds. But the fawn never showed. Instead, the back door opened, and the handlers shoved a different kind of prey into our man-made hell. His skin was dark, his clothes were torn, and he was shouting something in Arabic as he nudged his blindfold off and viewed our beast in all its violent glory. He began to scream and wave his arms about as the seven of us just looked at each other in disbelief, our jaws all touching the floor. Within a split second, the WarWolf pounced on its prey, and the man’s arm was torn directly from the shoulder socket, spilling what seemed to be gallons of crimson onto the ground. The screams turned to gurgling as the jowls opened once more and affixed themselves onto the fellow’s skull, crushing it into pieces with ease. It sounded as if a watermelon was dropped from a third story window. It was over. We did it.

As I walked away from the hangar that day, with tears streaming down my face and my hands shaking terribly from the crime I had just taken part in, I heard what seemed to be a howl in the distance. I turned around, only to see Chloe and Steve, side by side, perched upon the wooded hill behind the base. They were saying goodbye to their friend. But, in many ways, that person was already long gone.