LAIR OF THE WULF- a Barbarian in Chicago- part 2
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A Parley with the White Man

The next morning at dawn, a delegation was put together consisting of Major Lee Anthony in his uniform, Akula in his buckskin with ceremonial jewelry of lapis and jade ringing his neck, and lean waist. Nikan was there, and Trina, along with six of the other tribespeople. Jafiro was next to Nikan, smiling widely and waving at the cameras as the group emerged from the woods. It had been deemed wise to leave Wulf behind, as he was the wanted man. All were unarmed.

Detective Antigone Gibbons had just stumbled back from the porta-pottie set up by the new crews, and was on his way back to his car to get a little more sleep. He had just lit his first cigarette of the day, which effectively cancelled out the fresh dawn air, and looked up in surprise through the smoke as he drew in a breath. “I’ll be damned!” he said. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The camera crews immediately started transmitting, as the soldiers left on camp duty drew their arms and aimed them at the native delegation. Captain Roger Manthey had just emerged from his tent, and called out orders to the watch soldiers. “Stand down, soldiers!” he shouted, walking purposefully over to the Indian delegation that stood silently just at the edge of the forest.

As he approached the group, the Captain stood at attention. “We have the authority of the United States government to take back with us the man Wulf Gott, whom you are sheltering. Give us the youth, who is wanted in the City of Chicago for many crimes, and we shall leave you in peace.” He sounded nervous, since he knew that his words were being broadcast to the entire world, and would be repeated endlessly throughout the day.

The one thing left unsaid was that out here, past the borders of the reservation, all knew that modern weapons and machines would work. The natives had stepped out of their sanctuary, and now the men of civilization held the upper hand. The Captain rested his hand upon his service pistol suggestively.

Akula, calm as always, appeared not to notice. “I am not here to surrender. Although we are all unarmed, we come to you as free men with a proposition, and a warning. Leave our borders, leave us in peace, and we will leave you in peace. Go back to your toxic civilization, where men who work are taxed to provide for those who will not work- where justice is a mockery- where crime is not punished! We live in harmony with the Great Spirit, and with Nature- you work against both. We keep our good son Wulf Gott, he is not meant to live in a cage as do all of you in your cities. Your warriors that invaded us are now dead, only one remains. He will speak to you now.”

Gesturing to his right, indicating Major Lee Anthony, Akula fell silent. His magnetic presence dominated the scene, and the cameras were all focused on him. He appeared like a biblical prophet, so vital did he seem.

Major Lee Anthony stepped forward, and saluted. “I was captured by the Ojibwe, during our attack. They have treated me as well as I could have been treated, nay- better! There was also another attack on these people, and an attack of Islamic radical terrorists, allied with the Black Lives Matter terrorists. Both were also eliminated by these people, defending their native country.”

Detective Gibbons could hardly believe what was going on! He went as fast as he could back to his car, and fumbling in the glove box, walked quickly back towards this confrontation. ‘G’damn if I let these redskins get away!’ he thought to himself.

“And so, as an officer in the United Stated Army, I recommend to my superiors that they take this warning from Akula, who is a sovereign monarch of an independent nation state, and withdraw. In fact, I hereby resign my commission in the U.S. Army, and assign myself as a soldier in defense of the Ojibwe nation, which I recognize as a superior state and culture.”

As the cameras recorded all of this, commentators across the globe were struggling to even believe what they were hearing. A high-ranking military officer resigning, and becoming a soldier of a reservation?!” From California to Tokyo, newscasters were struggling to interpret what they were hearing.

A sudden shot rang out, and Akula fell. Smoke rose from the barrel of Antigone Gibbon’s pistol, which he held outstretched in yellowish fingers. His hate-contorted face roiled in rage, every mean and toxic emotion showing there.

“I am a hero! I have killed the protector of Wulf the Barbarian, the racist loving Indian who defied us for so long-” He broke off, as a large black horse shot out from the edge of the woods, carrying a very large, very muscular youth. Sunlight gleamed on his reddish mane, and also on the stainless steel of the revolver he held in his right hand.

Antigone turned to run, but it was all happening so fast, he had barely gone a few steps when he turned his head back, ashen faced in fear. Everyone in the tableau seemed frozen- the soldiers, the Indian delegation- but the cameras kept rolling, spun about to show this newest development.

As the world watched, the barbarian renegade Wulf Gott, in revenge of the shooting of his adoptive grandfather, galloped up to Detective Gibbons. As the yellowish detective threw up his arms desperately, Wulf thrust the pistol back into his belt, and simply rode down the man. The flailing hooves, backed up by over a ton of muscular weight, made a red ruin of Detective Antigone Gibbons.

Turning his horse, Wulf slowly rode back to the edge of the forest where the delegation of natives still stood, shocked. Captain Manthey stood stock still, unbelieving at this turn of events, and unsure how to react.

Wulf had tears streaking down his face, as he dismounted and lifted his grandfather in his arms. He walked with him towards the woodland, turning at the very edge. “You will pay!” he promised. “You had your chance, corrupt ones!!”

And with that, he disappeared into the woods. The native delegation followed, led by Major Lee Anthony, and they left the clearing as Captain Manthey and the rest of the soldiers and news media watched in silence. The cameras kept recording, but now there was nothing to see but a wall of thick trees.

The last to disappear within the forest was Jafiro, the muscular young black youth wearing native buckskin garb. Looking back angrily towards the cameras ringing the clearing, he raised his hands, and facing back towards them, he gave the finger to the world- with both hands! He backed away slowly into the woods, his hands signaling just what he thought of the outside world.

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