February 3, 2008 Austria

Hilton packs his giant slalom skis for this venture. The quarry is Vandermere Blodinsky, an important globalist coordinator who spends much of his time in an isolated stronghold on top of a ski mountain. He owns the mountain and uses one of the Snowcats to get him from the highest lift unload, further up to his retreat. Hilton studied the entire situation from a helicopter last week, and knows what to do.

Hilton hits the slopes the minute they open. The morning air is bracing as he rides three successive lifts to get to the top unloading point. As he gets off the lift and goes left, the attendant calls after him,

“I suggest you go to the right. The way your headed will be very steep and ungroomed.”

“Thanks, I know. I plan to slalom it to the work road, then skate back over to the regular trails”

“You must be very good, but please watch out for hidden ice in the middle.”

“I will, thanks.”

When Hilton is well out of sight from the lift, he cuts straight up the mountainside. In an evergreen thicket, he becomes the Werebear. He will need the extra strength to make the long steep climb. The enormous breakfast earlier won’t hurt either. Added muscle needs added fuel.

The Werebear goes fast, but the climb still takes almost an hour. As he approaches the house, three big wooly dogs come charging out to him barking.  When they actually see the Werebear, they run away fast, back to the house as a triple warning to the occupants. The Werebear better hurry.

Hilton adapted his bindings for this situation and the Werebear gets the skis on quickly. The way is steep and there is deep new powder. He herringbones rapidly up to the house, takes off the skis, and opens the kitchen door. The dogs are yapping at his heels. The Werebear makes a quick lunge at them. They run off yelping and he closes the door behind him.

Blodinsky is alone with one of his mistresses. They were asleep when the dogs started, and are still in bed. This is lucky, because even the mighty Werebear isn’t bullet proof. Blodinsky always keeps an 8mm Walther PPK close at hand, and because of recent events, has been upgrading his shooting skills.

The Werebear’s nose finds the bedroom fast. When the naked couple see him, she screams and Blodinsky reaches for his gun in the nightstand, The Werebear kicks the drawer shut breaking Blodinsky’s hand, then picks him up, breaks his back, and throws the limp body through the small picture window. In rushes the Icey air, and the girl covers up.

“Your cellphone Madame, and also his if you please” gesturing towards the window.

She is terrified, but finds both phones and, trembling badly. puts them on the mattress at the bottom of the bed, then covers up again.

“Thank you, and good day.”

The Werebear knows this place is probably monitored by satellite, so he leaves immediately. He puts the skis back on and skates fast toward the long open glacier on the back of the mountain. The dogs give chase. When they convince themselves that they have run him off, they trudge back to the house and find their master in the snow. The girl lets them into the house, and starts looking for a way to block the picture window

The Werebear skis straight down the endless expanse of virgin snow. The exhilaration is astonishing, and the enjoyment superbly recreational, except for the danger of bad guys soon behind.

Danger is up ahead too. Now the Werebear breaks through a snow crust and plummets into a six-foot-wide three-hundred-foot deep crevasse. He thrusts out his claws and drags himself to a painful stop. Now there is just that small matter of climbing back up the eighty feet he has fallen. This isn’t easy. He has to use his claws like crampons, and it takes him twelve agonizing minutes. Hilton’s arms will be very lame tomorrow. Best for him to lay in bed for three days.

Luckily the Werebear still has both skis and continues down to a cluster of evergreens where he changes back to Hilton, then skis the last stretch to the village and his cozy little room, then a fine salad and pot-roast dinner.