jonathanvik

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 36

“I’m fine, alright?” Johan said, waving away a nurse. While the smoke damage to the young man’s lungs wasn’t too severe, the nurses weren’t taking any chances. Anderson watched in amusement as Johan bickered with the nurses.

“Your opinion, sir?” Johnson asked, disrupting his thoughts.

“Such as?”

“Everything! The Niflhel’s back from the dead, returning for revenge! Witnesses described their leader, Selim Vagh, with unsettling accuracy.”

“That’s yet to be confirmed. Regardless, Reine Beaufort needs to be behind bars.” While Anderson understood the attacks against the Jotnar, why attack some random grocery store across Bifrost? They seemed more targeted toward causing fear and panic than anything else. What was Reine’s game? At least Yareli was safe after they burned down Gramps’ old shop. When he’d heard the report, Anderson had feared the worst.

“True that.” Johnson gave a sage nod.

“Why did you have an Angra Armlet in your possession?” Johnson asked after the nurses gave permission to speak with the patient.

“I stole it from a dead Niflhel,” Johan said, giving a practiced answer. “It was during the riots—during you-know-what. I needed something to protect myself.”

“That right?” Johnson said, doubt evident in his tone. The attack on the station’s evidence locker had rattled everyone in the department.

“We aren’t accusing you of anything, Mr. Engel. As far as we’re concerned, you’re a hero. But some loose ends need clearing up,” Anderson said. “Where were you at 3:00 this morning?”

“Where was I this morning? Sleeping, I guess? I crashed at an old electronic repair shop across town with some friends. I don’t have a better alibi, alright?”

His partner didn’t indicate whether this answer satisfied him. He showed a photo of Selim Vagh. “Was this person at the dinner?”

“Yes,” Johan said with raw, undisguised hatred. “Somehow, the bastard’s back from the grave.”

“And he used an Angra Armlet to transform into a spider-like monster?”

“He tried to burn us alive!”

“What’s your past history with Mr. Vagh? Any reason he might target you?”

“Plenty. The bastard’s a jerk and a bully. He’s been beefing with me since I joined the Jotnar.”

“Were you at the Nidavellir’s Pourhouse during the zombie attack?” Anderson asked. Scattered reports told of a boar monster there, too. Johan was honest and explained how he’d fought to protect the patrons. After some further grilling, they left the young man to recover.

“We’ll contact you if we have any further questions, Mr. Engel,” Anderson said before they left.

“He’s lying,” his partner said once they were out of earshot.

“About?”

“I doubt he has anything to do with the attack on the evidence locker. His armlet’s serial number doesn’t match the ones we confiscated. But I suspect his rivalry with Selim Vagh runs deeper than a mere beef. That’s some genuine hatred, and my gut tells me Niflhel’s leader targeted him specifically.”

“It seems possible.” It impressed Anderson how much his partner had grown as a detective. He had good instincts.

“We should monitor Johan Engel and the other Jotnar,” his partner concluded. “It’s possible the Niflhel might attack them again. They hit that electronic shop Mr. Engel mentioned, too.”

“Shame they’re refusing to return his armlet. He might need it to protect himself.” What a setback. Johan was a great fighter.

“The chief would never allow that. Besides, we aren’t toothless, as the media claims. Maybe we could use the Angra Armlets? I bet you’d be a natural, sir.”

“No, thanks!” Anderson suppressed a shudder. “Still, we should honor the young man for his heroics.” Anderson would speak to the chief about at least a medal. Johan deserved it. They continued to discuss the finer points of the case, but Anderson’s mind wandered to other matters.

With the Jotnar under police watch, he wondered how long until Yareli’s secret got exposed. The poor girl had been despondent since the destruction of her second father’s shop. Not surprising, but they needed her. Without Johan, she was their best fighter.

“Excuse me, I need to make a call,” Anderson said, leaving his partner. Johnson shrugged and walked toward a nearby vending machine for some coffee.

“Yes?” Halvorsen said.

“Is Ilma’s new weapon ready?” Anderson asked without preamble.

A pause. “It is. But testing for Protect Brokkr takes—”

“Then you need to cut the family bullshit. People are getting slaughtered in the streets, Doctor Halvorsen. The world needs her ready to fight. Swallow your damn pride and talk with her already!”

A longer pause. “We planned to meet tomorrow, but it will be done.” Halvorsen cut the line without even a goodbye.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from Investigation, its contents making his heart beat with excitement. They’d found the source of a strange energy drain. They’d uncovered Surtur’s location.

///

“How are you holding up?” Rebecca asked as they sat in the hospital’s waiting room.

“I’m okay. I just…”

“What?”

“Just wish things had gone differently.” It was stupid to blame herself for Gramps’ shop’s destruction, but her apparent uselessness tormented her.

“Yeah,” Rebecca said, listening as Yareli vented her troubles. “I never imagined they’d target us specifically.”

Pensive, Rebecca glanced toward intensive care, where her mother still resided. She gave a grateful nod as Yareli took her hand and squeezed it. While it contained no human warmth, the kind gesture made up for it.

“I won’t let them hurt your mother.”

“Thanks.”

Yareli wasn’t sure how she’d accomplish that, but her scared friend needed reassurance. They chatted about nothing while they waited for Johan to be cleared. Samuel still hadn’t returned from some errands, leaving them alone. While they talked, a man who had just entered the room caught her attention. It was Johan’s stepfather.

Where the hell had he been? Hadn’t he been with Johan when the attack happened? She wondered if Johan had good reason to dislike Friedel, when he hadn’t bothered riding in the ambulance with his hurt stepson. He appeared genuinely concerned about Johan’s condition, but still.

She brightened, noticing the man accompanying Friedel. It was Gramps. “Hey.”

Instead of replying, the older man threw his arms around Yareli in a tight hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay! When I heard about the fire…” He broke down, tears staining his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Gramps. I didn’t get hurt.” She stroked his head, enjoying the embrace. “I’m sorry about the shop. You’ve had it for ages.”

Gramps snorted. “Who cares about that? It’s you I’m more worried about! Is it true that those Niflhel ruffians attacked you?”

His concern touched Yareli profoundly, dissolving some guilt. “Yeah, brought back to life by Reine.”

“Sorry, what?” Friedel interrupted the conversation, giving them a baffled look.

“Johan will explain the rest,” Yareli said, having little patience with the man. She’d be glaring if she still possessed a face.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Friedel said, reading Yareli’s hostility.

When Yareli returned her attention to Gramps, the older man wore a thoughtful expression. “That shop probably meant more to you than me. My home is back in Norway with my daughter, but that shop’s been your home since your rebirth. I’m sorry, Yareli.”

“It’s just a place. The memories aren’t gone.”

“Still, such a shame. All your paintings got burned up. Those Niflhel are true villains.”

“Not completely. I saved the first I painted after you found me. Well, mostly—it’s a bit singed. It’s in Rebecca’s car.”

“Thank goodness. You have such a passion. I’m glad you saved something.”

“Like your shop, I’m not too sentimental about them. I can always paint new ones.” To her, painting was about the journey. They shared a much-needed laugh and then another hug.

“Still, where will you live now?”

“I can live with an old friend until I find an apartment. And about the shop? Well, it gives me an excellent excuse to retire. With the insurance money, my retirement should be an enjoyable one. I could travel.”

This sparked some interest in Yareli. “I could come with you.”

“With an old fart like me?”

“I’m serious. I love traveling.” She had fond memories of joining her father on business trips across the globe.

“You can’t stay with me forever. You need to live your own life.”

“I don’t mind. It won’t be forever.” She squeezed his hand again. “You’ve been a second father to me. A better one.”

“I doubt my daughter, Celine, would quite agree with you, but thank you.” Gramps rubbed the back of his neck. He’d mentioned their rather turbulent relationship before, but never gotten into the specifics. It wasn’t something Gramps enjoyed speaking about.

“Regardless, I’d like to meet her someday.”

“I’d like that too. You have a great deal in common. Celine’s sporty, like you are.”

“I’m not sporty,” Yareli said, protesting the analogy.

“I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but may I have a word,” Anderson said, walking up to them.

“What’s up?” Yareli asked.

“News—some good, some bad,” the detective replied. “Good is that we’ve confirmed Surtur’s location. The bad is the higher-ups are planning a full-out assault tonight. It’s a joint operation with the military. The other Ilma is providing backup. It’s premature, but they want this matter resolved quickly.”

“I’ll be there.” Yareli noticed Gramps’s silent surge of fear but kept quiet.

“I’d hope so,” Anderson said. “We’ve confirmed Ms. Beaufort is there with him.”

“Oh?”

“I’m ordering you to go to your father’s place now. He’s finished your new weapon.”

Yareli kept silent for several long moments before speaking. “I see. Okay.”

“Don’t worry. Just be honest. He’ll hear your words.” Gramps gave her hand a tight squeeze.

“I hope so.” But Yareli wasn’t optimistic, knowing her father seldom changed his mind. Regardless, it was an encounter that needed to happen.

“You’d best get going. The attack takes place in four hours,” Anderson said.

“Good luck, Yareli. I’ll take care of Johan,” Gramps said.

After saying her goodbyes and explaining the situation to the other Jotnars, Yareli sped off toward the coordinates the detective had given her.

///

“Typical,” Yareli said as she approached the old, remote apartment building.

Her father was always paranoid about his work—even without literal monsters after his life. Nevertheless, she’d been careful to avoid getting followed. After making sure nobody was in sight, Yareli slipped inside.

“Yo!” Dino said as Yareli closed the front entrance hall door behind her.

“Hi,” Yareli said, her tone neutral. She jerked in surprise as the Ymir goon slapped her on the back.

“Finally patching things up with the old man? Good for you, Ilma! Good luck!” After giving her a thumbs-up, he left.

“Is he under the impression we’re friends or something? I don’t get that guy,” Yareli thought.

As usual, her father’s lab was a mess. While he enjoyed the finer things at home, his lab was purely functional. She caught him tapping some calculations on a laptop. What they meant, Yareli hadn’t a clue. She’d never possessed a mind for science or math. Few could match her father’s genius, regardless.

“Hey,” Yareli said, her tone flatter than when she’d spoken with Dino.

“You’ve arrived. Excellent,” her father replied, his tone neutral. “I wish I had more time for testing, but your new weapon is complete. It’s that bundle over there.” He pointed to something covered in a blue sheet.

“I’ll need it. The police confiscated Johan’s Angra key. They’ve found Surtur’s hideaway. They’re planning an assault tonight. Whatever miracle device you’ve made, it better be ready.”

“Unfortunate. Brokkr’s primary field test will also be its first operation. At least I’ll get some useful data.”

“Right.” Yareli bent down to retrieve her new weapon—a sword. Despite its size, it was surprisingly light in her hand. It had a strap that Yareli used to sling her father’s gift across her shoulder.

“I better leave. I’ll need to practice with my new weapon before the battle with Surtur.” She peeled away a USB drive taped to its casing. “This contains its instructions?”

“It does. It also contains its specifications. I’m hoping for Davidson’s opinion. He has a magical eye for machines.”

“Sure.” Much went unsaid between them, almost choking the air. Yareli hesitated, unsure if she wanted to spark another argument. Despite the prompting by everyone, she was reluctant to patch matters up with her father. Too much had happened.

Similar thoughts passed through her father, and an awkward silence stretched between them. Then he spoke.

“I saw Fenrir on the news—saving people from rubble after Surtur’s attack.”

“A lecture again, no doubt. That I should be more circumspect with your secret weapon?” Yareli replied sarcastically.

“No. Believe it or not, I created the Ragnadriver to help people.”

“As slaves to Ymir.”

“We wanted to create a world order free of war and conflict. I realize what you might think, but sometimes extreme force is necessary to bring change.”

“It’s tyranny, no matter how you phrase it.”

“Stubborn girl.” Her father rubbed a hand through his hair. “Always so stubborn.”

A dam broke within Yareli, finally unleashing the anger she’d had pent-up for years. “You know what’s best? Such bullshit! When I wanted to play with dolls, you insisted I wear a training gi instead. You’ve never trusted me to make my own decisions.”

“They were necessary. You’ve just never realized it.”

“Lies! You can’t stand not being in control!” The rage grew brighter within her. “Sometimes, I think the accident was a blessing in disguise. It gave me a chance to live my own life for once. Despite being a skeleton, I’m happy. It’s like I can breathe again.”

Her father flinched when she mentioned the accident. “You truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

His breathing intensified. “I see.”

“Why do you care, anyway? It’s not like you actually think I’m your daughter. I’m a monster, remember?” To this, her father had no response. Yareli said nothing either, brooding.

“I should just leave.” Tears of anger stung her eye sockets. She turned to go again, but an arm stopped her.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“Bullshit. You said it yourself!”

“I…” Her father paused, unsure what to say. “I was scared.”

“Huh?”

“When you returned, I was at a loss. It seemed so impossible. When I lost you the first time, I went insane. No— that happened when your mother died. I’ve always thought the best part of me died with her.”

He continued, “Everything I did was to protect you. If you were strong, then nothing in this world would hurt you. Ridiculous, but I couldn’t help myself. When you returned from the dead, I feared it wasn’t you. I feared what it meant. Your body’s a construct created by your faulty Uhyre key. In every sense of the word, you aren’t human.”

Yareli said nothing, listening with rapt attention. She’d never seen her father break down before.

“And if you aren’t human, what happens next? I was scared—afraid of the implications. What if your Uhyre key malfunctioned even further? Remember what happened when you went berserk?”

“I…” Yareli lowered her head.

“I kept thinking, what if she becomes a monster? What if she’s only a delusional program? I couldn’t bear losing you a second time. It seemed easier to ignore your existence.”

“Well, I’m Ilma Halvorsen,” Yareli said firmly. “I’m tired of questioning my existence.”

“Program or not, it really is you. Same stubbornness and everything. But the heart as well. When you rescued those people, I couldn’t have been prouder. You’re a better person than I ever was.”

“Father.”

“I’m sorry, Ilma. I’m sorry for being a terrible father. You’re right to hate me.” He sighed, turning away. “I don’t blame you for not wanting me in your life.”

“But we’re family, right?” Yareli said, grabbing his hand. “Despite everything, I still love you. Always have.”

“Oh, Ilma.” Her father sobbed into her suit’s shoulder, gripping her tight. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She accepted the hug, returning his embrace. While she hadn’t forgotten his crimes, Yareli decided she’d forgive him. No—she needed to forgive him. She was tired of being angry at him.

“I love you, Father.”

“I love you, Ilma.”

They shared a long embrace—something they hadn’t done in years. It was long overdue, for both their sakes. They needed to heal from the hurt, the anger, and the self-loathing, as father and daughter.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 35

“You didn’t have to stay,” Johan said, playing with his fries. The crowded diner bustled with people from the lunch rush, making hearing his stepson difficult.

“I’ve never visited Bifrost before. I want to see the sights. This is a human-built island. A modern Roman Colosseum, a marvel of human ingenuity!” Friedel tapped his stepson on the chest. “You can show me the sights.”

“I’m busy. This isn’t a good time.” Emotion warred within Johan, drawing a curious look from Friedel. What was happening here? Was something going on? Was it connected to the sword his stepson thought he had well hidden?

“Is there a gang war happening?” Friedel thought.

Bountiful rumors ran about Bifrost these days, including a rivalry between the Jotnar and the Niflhel. Friedel cringed just thinking about it, recalling in vivid detail the news articles about the Niflhel terrorizing the city.

“Johan, you idiot. Why’d you join a gang?” he thought.

But Friedel had promised he’d support his stepson. Maybe Johan wasn’t fighting anyone—only keeping the sword for protection. But Friedel wasn’t hopeful.

“Not even for a day? You can’t even spare your poor, old stepfather a single afternoon?”

“Fine,” Johan said, relenting.

“Wonderful.” He was getting the hang of twisting his stepson’s arm. They ate in relative silence before a question occurred to Friedel. “That biker girl, Ilma—are you seeing her?”

“Why does everyone think that?” Johan rolled his eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Really? I’ve seen the way you look at her.” Friedel wore a sly smile. “Why does she hide her face? She never removes her helmet.”

“Ilma has terrible scars,” Johan replied after a brief pause. “She dislikes people seeing her face—says it scares them.”

“And yet, you seem unbothered by it. Have you seen what’s underneath that suit?”

Another odd pause. “She’s thin but still attractive.”

“Huh.” Now Friedel was even more curious. Something was happening behind the scenes he wasn’t getting.

“And we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends.”

“That right? You seem to care about her deeply.”

“Being around her makes me comfortable—like I can say anything to her, and she won’t judge me for it.”

“It sounds like you found someone special. Good for you.” He decided not to push the obvious love angle. Romantic or not, Friedel was pleased Johan had such a special friend. In his long experience, such companionships were rare.

While he bit into his hamburger, an ad for a Ymir car popped onto the TV screen. The atmosphere in the room changed; subtle anger permeated the air. It made Johan flinch.

“I realize Ymir isn’t the most popular company right now, but I’m surprised Reine’s song isn’t cheering you up.” Friedel listened as the idol sang a catchy jingle as the commercial finished. Johan had a rather sad infatuation with the girl. He actually bought all her albums, even using one short sample as a ringtone.

“Who wants to listen to that trash?” Johan replied, his tone venomous.

“Is something wrong?” Friedel said, his fatherly instincts flashing trouble. “Did you meet her, and she wasn’t what you expected?”

“You could say that. Turns out she’s a murderer.”

“What?” Before Friedel could inquire further, the bell at the diner’s front resonated through the halls.

“Good afternoon. One moment, and we’ll get you…” The server’s voice trailed off, a deafening silence spreading across the room. Johan’s dark skin, in particular, went white as a sheet. Friedel turned to discover the most ghoulish boy he’d ever seen had entered the restaurant.

“Selim,” Johan said, breathless. “It can’t be. You’re…”

“Dead. Because you killed me, Johan. Don’t be so surprised. I’m a Niflhel. Kill us, and we only rise again.”

“Killed?” What the hell was going on? A maniac hysteria washed over the diner’s occupants, each turning to flee to safety.

The cruel smile crossing over Selim’s face made Friedel’s skin crawl. “Is this your father, Johan? I’ll enjoy tearing him limb from limb while you watch, helpless.”

“Dammit! Run, Friedel!” Johan pushed his stepfather behind him. He pulled the sword from his bag, pointing it toward the Niflhel.

Selim pulled a device from his pocket and inserted it into the strange mechanism attached to his arm. “Terrorize!”

Friedel watched in stunned shock as the pale boy changed, becoming a monstrous spider—hideous to behold. It stood twice as tall as him! Like spooked cattle, people trampled over each other to escape.

Dear God, the news didn’t exaggerate the monstrous nature of the Niflhels. Too frightened to move, his legs refused to cooperate. He yelled at his stepson to flee and save himself. Instead, Johan attached a similar armlet and pulled out a device with a boar marking.

“Terrorize!”

Had the world gone insane? His stepson had just turned into a pig monster! A viscous liquid dripped from the spider monster’s mandibles, burning the floor where it touched. Johan stood his ground, ready to fight to protect his estranged stepfather. At this moment, a profound sense of pride struck Friedel. Despite their differences, Johan would risk his life to protect him. It brought unexpected tears, touching him profoundly.

“No, don’t get weepy! Run!” a growl from Johan’s hog snout said.

Friedel didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling toward a back exit—but only found a better hiding spot instead, knowing Johan might require some backup.

“I’m going to enjoy killing everyone you’ve ever loved, Johan. Already, my men are torching the old man’s shop. See.” The monster spider pointed toward a plume of smoke in the distance, making Friedel’s heart race. Dear Lord.

“Bastard!” Tables and booths splintered as Johan charged toward his foe, but Selim’s spider-like instincts were formidable. Johan blinked, confused as his sword struck empty air. His quarry had just vanished.

Friedel yelped in surprise as a bottle landed a few meters away. There was a sudden stink of gasoline before everything erupted in flame. Scorching heat made him sweat as fire spread across the diner. Friedel coughed as a nearby table caught, the smoke choking him.

“What?” Even in his monster form, Johan coughed as smoke met his lungs.

“I’ll make sure you lose it all, one by one,” Selim said, suspended midair by a ceiling fan. His free multi-arms played with what Friedel realized was another Molotov cocktail. Fire roared as the kitchen caught fire.

Why had he insisted on being brave? His coughing worsened as the fire spread further, leaving Friedel no easy escape route.

“You!” Johan’s blade slashed at the psychopathic Niflhel, but Selim scuttled away. He escaped toward the back exit, clinging to the roof.

“Dammit!” Johan cursed, his eyes widening when he realized not everyone had fled when the Niflhel appeared. People huddled under what they’d assumed was safe cover.

“This way!” With a mighty kick, Johan cracked the front door open. Instead of fleeing, people trembled in fear, uncertain they could trust this monster. Smoke spread further, making visibility almost null.

Heedless of the flames, Johan dropped his weapon and hurled anything flammable away from the restaurant-goers. The fire sizzled his thick coat, but he withstood the pain to open a path for escape.

“Dammit, I’m only an accountant!” Friedel thought before saying, “This way! Escape is close!”

Friedel grabbed a nearby girl of Johan’s age crouching near his hiding spot and pulled her toward the opening his stepson had smashed open. The poor girl hesitated, trembling before Johan’s monster form.

“It’s alright. That’s my son,” Friedel said, imbuing his words with pride and confidence. “He won’t harm you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the young woman nodded, running toward the opening. She tensed as her arm brushed Johan’s fur but gained confidence after realizing he wasn’t a threat. “Come on! The way is clear.”

Bolstered by her words, people dashed toward the exit. Johan continued to hurl anything flammable away, using his body as a shield against the fire.

Friedel was the last to leave, hurrying Johan after him. A deafening cracking sound reverberated through the dinner, and terror gripped his heart as a beam collapsed onto Johan, trapping him.

The damned fool! Why’d he need to sacrifice himself to save us? Friedel hurled himself towards the flaming diner to save his stepson, but sudden strong arms restrained him from doing something stupid. Sirens roared as emergency vehicles arrived at the scene.

“Johan.” Friedel collapsed to his knees, convinced he’d lost his last connection to Jayla.

Wood creaked, making Friedel glance up. Grunting with effort, Johan struggled against the beam holding him in place. Fire nipped at Johan, but his stepson only fought harder. People gazed in astonishment as the beam left a deep crack in the parking lot pavement as it was hurled away.

“Hurry!” Friedel said, terrified the roof would collapse at any moment. Johan ran from the building, undoing his transformation as he went. He collapsed, coughing and wheezing once he left the imminent danger. Moments later, the diner collapsed into a pile of flaming rubble. EMTs rushed toward Johan, placing an oxygen mask over his face.

“Johan.” Friedel threw his arms over his stepson, tears falling unbidden.

“I’m fine, Friedel,” Johan wheezed, his words sounding weak. He didn’t protest as an EMT pulled him toward an ambulance.

“I can’t believe a Niflhel saved us,” a man said.

“Johan isn’t a damn Niflhel. He’s a Jotnar!” Friedel said, standing tall with pride. Gang member or not, his stepson was a damn hero!

People’s eyes widened in astonishment, some even clapping in delight. Firefighters arrived, hoses ready; cops not long after, trying to glean what had just happened. They got mixed reports. No one was quite sure what they’d seen.

Before Friedel moved to join his stepson in the ambulance, a glint caught his attention. He stooped down and found the odd sword Johan had been carrying. The weapon was half-buried under some rubble.

After checking no one was watching, he scooped it up and walked toward his car. Best the cops didn’t find whatever this sword was. Johan would need it to face that Selim creature. With the growing crowd, he used it to slip away before getting noticed. His lungs hurt, but he’d attend to that later.

After throwing the sword into the backseat, he programmed his car to drive to the hospital. While Johan had suffered some burns, his injuries didn’t seem too severe. His strange boar form had protected him from most of the damage.

“Johan, just what have you gotten into?” It seemed he’d need to extend his stay in Bifrost.

///

“What is it?” Yareli’s brush froze mid-stroke, annoyed at the untimely interruption. Her phone buzzed as she received a call, insistent she answer it. While she hated getting interrupted mid-thought, it might be important. She placed her brush down on her palette and reached for her phone.

Her hand paused as she detected a faint sound that shouldn’t belong. Everyone else was out on various errands, leaving her alone. Her instincts flared, warning her of danger. After grabbing her phone, she rushed toward the door. Yareli jumped as glass shattered, followed by the whoosh of an explosion. Fire greeted her as she opened her room’s door.

Gramp’s shop was on fire! Enraged, Yareli wrapped her Ragnadriver around her waist. Whoever these bastards were, they’d pay! As she searched for enemies, she texted 110, the fire department.

“Dammit! It should take three or four minutes to arrive.” Yareli loved this silly little shop and loathed anything happening to it. Heedless of the danger, she searched for the fire extinguisher. As Yareli explored further into the shop, she found more flames than she’d expected. Her enemies must have used multiple Molotov cocktails. While not fireproof, she didn’t need to breathe. The fire shouldn’t be too difficult to fight.

“There.” Yareli found the fire extinguisher and sprayed the closest fire with foam. Beyond the roar of the flames, Yareli thought she heard sirens. Only luck and instinct saved her as she jumped away from something whipping toward her chest.

Through the fire, figures emerged. One was enormous, with glistening teeth and fangs. The mangy, monstrous fox creature seemed vaguely familiar. With him stood a scorpion-like monstrosity, its tail dripping venom.

“Who the hell are you?” Yareli prepared her Uhyre key, gripping it tight in her hand. Did they plan on fighting her in a burning building? Were they insane? Eerie, mocking laughter echoed through the roar of the flames. Yareli glimpsed more monstrous figures outside the window. Once again, something familiar about them struck her.

“It can’t be.”

“You killed us, Fenrir,” the fox monster said. “Slaughtered us in droves. But we Niflhel don’t die. Kill us, and we’ll only rise again. This little shop will be your grave.”

“Damn you, Reine.” More ghosts returned to haunt them—only this time, more personally. A pang of guilt struck her, the pain of slaughter returning with a vengeance. While the Niflhel had deserved it, she’d been a ravenous beast, lost in her fury.

No, she couldn’t allow any distractions. “Then I’ll send you all back to hell, where you belong! Henshin!”

“Murderer! Butcher! Monster!” Voices came from every angle, judging her for her sins.

“Shut up!” Yareli charged, claws extended. “I’m not a monster! I’m not!”

But her opponent proved agile, slipping away before her claws struck. Instead of hitting back, they kept on the defensive. Her tormentors continued taunting her—a living reminder of her greatest shame. Yareli’s rage boiled past the breaking point, incensed beyond words.

A sofa toppled as they leapt over it, continuing their fight in Gramps’ meager living room. Flames roared around her, but Yareli was still too furious to notice. She screamed at the monsters to fight her, but they only dodged and evaded.

Gramps’ old TV set shattered as she threw it into the fox monster, finally getting a hit on the annoying creature. Her claws tore through its flesh as Yareli slashed with savage fury.

“I’m not a monster, you bastard!” Her next strike crumbled half the creature’s face. She raised her claws for the killing blow, pausing as something caught her eye. Out in the store area, the flames were reaching toward the first painting she’d made after her rebirth. The curtain dropped as realization struck. What the hell was she doing?

Forgetting the Niflhel entirely, she charged through flames toward what really mattered. Tears came unbidden as the flames licked at the canvas, lighting its corner on fire. Yareli dismissed her armor and flapped at the flames.

“How could I forget?” Yareli held the slightly scorched painting tight as she removed it from the wall. The blare of sirens was almost deafening. It reminded Yareli she still needed to escape. Cradling her prize, she dove through a nearby window. People gasped in surprise as they saw this strange, helmeted girl leap from a burning building.

“Over here!” a firefighter said. “We have a survivor!”

“It’s okay.” Yareli waved the man away as he tried to administer aid. Her head darted around for any Niflhel but found they’d already vanished.

The shop’s loss tore at Yareli’s soul. It had been her only home for as long as she could remember. How could she face Gramps after this?

“Damn you, Reine. You are going to regret it!” Yareli thought, not fighting back the tears.

///

“It’s finished,” Reine said, nodding as her pet Niflhel reported the situation. “This will keep them distracted.” The fire at Fenrir’s place was a nice touch. It’d engage the monster past the point of reason.

“Excellent work. Your execution was flawless. Niflhel’s return has petrified Bifrost.” Surtur had a wire attached to the nape of his neck, connecting to a power outlet. It was something he did often. Whatever system the robot used required a considerable amount of power. It was a useful weakness she’d exploit if necessary.

“Just as I expected. The authorities are too busy to care about us. Random Niflhel attacks will keep them on their toes.” And it’d buy them plenty of time to complete whatever Surtur had planned.

The robot looked pleased—a surprisingly human reaction. In an instant, her mood darkened. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Sorry?” Surtur said, not understanding his ally’s sudden outburst.

“Never mind.” Reine turned away, avoiding looking at the man she killed’s face. “I’ll give the Niflhel more instructions on where they should attack.”

“Very well.” Surtur nodded, unbothered by Reine’s odd moods.

“Wilson is dead. This creature’s just a shell. How can he give me the same smile as the late president?” Reine thought. It unnerved her in ways she couldn’t understand. Despite being emotionless, she’d seen much of Wilson in Surtur beyond the shared face. It was like seeing his ghost.

She couldn’t allow him to live, Reine decided. Once Fenrir was dead, she’d kill him next. That thing was an abomination.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 34

“Why here? It hardly suits a man of your tastes,” Dino asked, entering the lab. Unlike Ymir’s usual high-tech fare, the planet’s smartest scientist had holed himself up in a dingy basement of an old townhouse. Dino edged around tables crowded with equipment of indeterminate use.

“I can’t risk Surtur disrupting my work.” The smell of burnt circuits filled Dino’s nostrils. As Halvorsen welded some circuitry to a piece of metal. Odds and ends crowded the worktable, including a half-disassembled Ragnadriver. “Besides, I already have everything I need here.”

Dino couldn’t fault the scientist’s paranoia. Much rode on Project Brokkr’s completion. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” Halvorsen pulled up his protective goggles, turning to address his guest. “I need a favor. I need a test subject for Project Brokkr.”

Somehow, this request didn’t surprise him. “Ah, I suppose I’m the expendable guinea pig for your little experiment. Can’t risk one of your precious Valkyries, after all.”

Dino didn’t begrudge the scientist for this. Someone needed to risk their life to test this new system. It might as well be him. There wasn’t time for extensive tests with plenty of safety precautions.

“No, I chose you because you have the best chance of survival. You’re a survivor, Dino Rizzo. And you defeated Fenrir. That makes you an exceptional individual.”

A sudden thought occurred to Dino. “When Ilma still had skin, was she defeated often?”

The scientist remained silent for several moments before a smile crept onto his usually stoic face. “Not often. Though she always loathed martial training, she had an exceptional talent for it. When she was a teenager, she defeated college-aged boys.”

Any happiness vanished as Halvorsen returned to the grim matter at hand. “This experiment entails a considerable amount of risk. I used ID-01 for the prototype because her mechanical body could withstand the strain better than a human.”

“You still haven’t worked out the Ragnadriver’s dangerous kinks?”

“I won’t lie. There’s a chance that even activating it will kill you. I won’t begrudge you for refusing.”

Someone needed to stop Surtur. So why not Bifrost’s resident superhero, Dino Rizzo? “I’ll do it.”

“You make our late president proud,” Halvorsen said, placing a meaty hand on Dino’s shoulder. “I promise to do everything possible to avoid unnecessary risks.”

Dino nodded, knowing the scientist meant every word. Halvorsen was the most honorable man he’d ever met.

The scientist returned to his seat and assembled the newly welded piece into a slot in a metal container. “If you would excuse me, I need to return to work. Return here at 18:00 tonight. We’ll begin the first test run.”

Dino waved his goodbye and allowed the scientist to finish his work. While scooting around a computer desk, he noticed a blue shape sitting against a wall. On closer inspection, he found a sword wrapped in cloth that obscured its details. The blade extended longer than Dino had expected, almost taller than a man. Despite its monstrous height, its grip only allowed single-handed use. You’d need to be mighty strong to wield this weapon.

Dino smiled to himself when he noticed the wolf-shaped pommel. While they were intense, deep-rooted rivals, Fenrir deserved some happiness. Maybe she’d finally patch things with her old man. He whistled as he left, though he was careful to remain unseen. It’d be dumb to blow Halvorsen’s carefully made cover.

“A nap sounds nice,” Dino thought as he returned to his car. He winced as a strong wind whipped against him, agitating the burn wound on his face. Some sleep would help aid his recovery. If death likely awaited him in a terrible lab accident, he might as well enjoy some naps before it happened.

///

“What a piece of junk,” Samuel said. “How much did this cost?”

“Enough,” Johan said defensively.

“Does it even run?” Rebecca asked.

Samuel snorted. “It’d be a wonder if he can roll it across the street. They ripped you off.”

The motorcycle the Jotnar huddled over appeared at least twenty years old. It looked like someone had stripped it for parts, scrapped it, then had a blind person reassemble it. While she agreed with Samuel’s harsh but accurate assessment, Yareli kept her opinion to herself. It’d be like kicking a downed puppy.

“Maybe I should give him my old bike. Gramps has it in storage somewhere,” Yareli thought.

While she’d purchased it used, it’d been after extensive research to get the best possible bargain. It had been her faithful companion for about a year before a new model caught her eye. She’d spotted it in a magazine for cycle enthusiasts. While an indulgence, she couldn’t help herself. Designed for professional racers, riding it was like floating in a dream—fast as lightning while agile like a cat. It had taken her months to save up to purchase it, but saving money was easy when you don’t eat. But Johan’s pride wouldn’t allow such charity.

“It’ll take some work, but I’m confident we can soup it up.” She considered borrowing parts from her old bike but decided against it. She didn’t have the heart for it. “I know this junkyard that sells decent parts.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Johan raised his head in defiance. “Its price was reasonable.”

“Okay.” Arguing wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, Yareli figured the figurative tricycle would work wonders for a beginner. Its speed would be manageable for his level. It’d teach him valuable maintenance skills when it broke down. While it’d take him years to master the speed she preferred, he’d gain confidence in riding. With some effort, he might become skilled enough to race.

“I know the perfect spot to begin training.”

“Sounds good.” Johan’s voice trailed off, his expression turning steely.

Yareli turned to discover what caused such a dramatic shift in her friend’s mood. A middle-aged man in an aged suit walked into Gramps’ parking lot. He had strong features, with a prominent chin and charcoal-colored skin. His short, curly hair had streaks of gray woven within it, giving him a distinguished appearance.

“What are you doing here?” Johan said, not hiding his hostility.

Yareli tensed, but her instincts didn’t flag the newcomer as dangerous. In fact, he seemed friendly, with warm, welcoming eyes. He gave Yareli an odd look, but that was a common reaction to her unusual appearance.

“I asked around. They told me you hang around here these days,” the man said.

“Now you know. Now you can leave,” Johan said, his tone flinty.

“Friedel. Johan’s stepfather,” Samuel whispered, answering her unasked question.

“Oh.” Yareli felt awkward, suddenly thrown into a family squabble.

“Johan, I realize I’ve never been your favorite person, but I’m here to bring you home,” Friedel said.

“Home? My place is here in Bifrost. I left for a reason.”

Distress filled Johan’s stepfather’s features. “Here? But haven’t you seen the news? This place has become a warzone! Monsters are literally roaming the streets. The police department—slaughtered! We need you back in Mittenwald, where it’s safe. Your mother…”

“My momma isn’t around anymore. Besides, she wouldn’t want me wasting my life in some no-horse town. In Bifrost, I have a life, a purpose. And I’m not leaving it for anything. Especially you, Friedel.”

“Johan, I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Friedel said with genuine feeling.

“I can take care of myself.” Johan stood straighter, involuntarily touching the sword hidden in his backpack. “I’ve become a certified badass since you last saw me.”

“Okay, it’s your life. I’m just trying to look out for you. Believe it or not, I love you, Johan. Always have.”

“Sure. But you still aren’t my papa.” Johan’s anger deflated but remained boiling under the surface. “Please, Friedel, fly back to Mittenwald. You’re probably in more danger than me.” Clearly not wanting to continue the conversation, he stormed back into Gramps’ shop.

“That could have gone better,” Friedel said, rubbing his temple and letting out a breath. Despite his obvious distress, he gave Johan’s friends a weak smile. “Hey.”

“Yeah, hi,” Rebecca said, giving an awkward wave.

“Damn fool, that Johan. Stubborn like a mule.” Samuel only shook his head.

“Just like his mother, I figure,” Friedel said with some humor. “Trying to convince her of anything was like trying to dislodge a mountain.”

Yareli nodded, amused. Despite her friend’s feelings about him, Friedel seemed a decent sort. “Sorry you traveled so far for nothing.”

“Nothing? I don’t think so. Despite Johan’s feelings on the matter, I’m not leaving yet. I came to Bifrost to spend time with my stepson. So that’s what I plan on doing.”

//

Ralph stifled a yawn, stirring his coffee with his preferred three sugars. He tried—and failed—to blink the tiredness from his eyes. Due to the project’s tight deadline, Ralph had pulled almost three all-nighters. Still, he’d made excellent progress. With Linda’s help, they’d have it finished long before the deadline.

As per his ritual, he skimmed the news for any interesting tidbits. He skipped past the politics section and right to sports. The Bulls had won against the Nets, 106 to 81, pleasing him. Ralph hoped his home team wouldn’t crap out toward the end of the playoffs like last year. He yawned again, hoping he’d stay awake until noon. Bored, he scanned the lifestyle section.

“What? Excessive caffeine’s bad for your health? What a shock,” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes. Before closing his news app, a sudden thought occurred to him.

“Right. Stock market.” Hadn’t he bought some DRAY stocks because of that weird equation? It had almost slipped his mind. Not that he had high hopes—DRAY’s stock had been in the gutter for several months.

“And it’s up?” He furrowed his brow, surprised. DRAY’s stock price had risen by almost eight hundred points. News of a promising new product had raised investor confidence.

“Holy.” This meant he’d made several thousand dollars for almost nothing!

“It must be a coincidence.” He scanned through the stock listing, searching for ONRA. The equation had told him the company’s stock would go bunk. His fumbling fingers almost dropped his phone in surprise.

ONRA stock was nothing—pulled from the market altogether. After authorities discovered a connection with the infamous Ymir, they’d frozen its assets. They had strong suspicions it was a dummy company for the mega-conglomerate, pending an extensive investigation. Thank God he’d sold his stocks before disaster struck. Even if the authorities found the company innocent, its Ymir connection would poison its prospects.

Was the equation for real? No, this required more research. Science dictated that conclusions only came from extensive testing. A sample size of two was worthless.

“Hey, Ranjit. Sorry for calling you so early, but I have a few questions.”

“Yeah?” While also tired from glamourless, sleepless work, Ranjit sounded alert. They worked at different companies but in the same field. They’d met at a conference. “Is something the matter?”

“Remember that equation I spoke about earlier?”

“Vaguely.”

“Both stocks I entered into the equation performed exactly as it predicted.”

“Really?” His partner snorted in disbelief. “DRAY actually made you some money?”

“It did. Thousands!”

“You’re serious?” Ranjit asked, realizing his friend wasn’t joking.

“You’re more familiar with these fringe finance forums. Has anyone else had success?” The main forum he enjoyed lurking had banned any discussion about the mysterious equation, considering it a hoax.

“I’ll check.” His partner tapped at his keyboard. “Yeah, some are. But I wouldn’t trust these people as far as I could throw them. Let me message someone I know. He’ll have more reliable info.”

“Impossible.” Ranjit huffed out a breath after a few silent minutes.

“What is it?”

“LordJake44 tells me he’s used it on six different stocks in completely different fields, and each has performed just as the equation predicted. But this can’t be right. You can’t just predict the stock market!”

Ralph’s mind raced, considering the implications. With this equation, he’d be rich! Hell, the richest man in the world! He’d never need to see this cramped, crappy cubicle ever again! He could buy his own island! Or make his own, like Bifrost! The sky’s the limit. He could fund a trip to space!

“Wait.” Then reality struck, forming a pit in his stomach. “Oh f…”

“What is it?” Ranjit asked, listening as his partner entered a string of increasingly colorful and vulgar expletives.

“How widespread is this equation, you think?”

“It’s the internet,” Ranjit said patiently. “Who can say?”

He dashed to his workstation and pulled up the equation file. He reentered DRAY, seeing the company’s prospects in three weeks. Its sudden rise was short-lived, falling so hard he doubted the company’s survival. On a whim, he entered another random company from the listing. Its prospects weren’t any better. Ralph’s blood chilled as he confirmed his worst suspicion. Every company he entered had bottomed out.

“Ralph?” Genuine concern entered Ranjit’s voice as his friend went deadly silent.

“It’s utter chaos.” His voice sounded like grinding sandpaper to his ears. “If everyone has this equation, then there’s no way our current global economy can stand. It’s the end of the world!”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 33

“Hmm,” Johan watched the sun set on Bifrost. Despite its griminess and superficiality, the way the red light glinted off the city’s glassed skyscrapers was dazzling. He recalled how Randel loved to sneak out on the duller days to the beach, just so they could watch the sunset along the crashing ocean.

He wondered if his zombified friend was also gazing at the sunset on the beach. Did he even have that humanity left within him?

Johan slammed a fist into a nearby wall, ignoring the pain throbbing through his hand. He wanted to howl to the winds until his lungs went raw—something to help him vent the turbulent emotions tearing him apart from within. He refused to cry. Real men never cried.

Footfalls on the sand announced Yareli’s approach. “Oh, there you are. How are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“I see.” Yareli’s body language made it clear how little she believed that statement. It was always remarkable how much his friend expressed despite not having a face. Her black-eyed helmet stared into him, seeing more than Johan found comfortable.

“I thought you might need a friend, regardless.”

“I don’t mind,” Johan said, done sulking by himself. They watched the last remnants of the sunlight in companionable silence.

A jingle interrupted the moment, Johan cringing when a familiar song played. Reine’s voice resonated across the empty beach, her melodious tone no longer bringing him the joy it once had. Unable to help himself, Johan flung his phone against the sidewalk. It gave a satisfying crack, almost snapping in two.

“That’s one way to get rid of an annoying ringtone,” Yareli said, deadpan.

“I was due for an upgrade anyway,” Johan replied, flushing at his sudden outburst.

Just thinking about that girl made his blood boil. She’d seemed so perfect, so beautiful. Her voice sang to his soul, offering a smile that promised he mattered. It hid the demon beneath—uncaring about anyone else. It still shocked him how callously Reine ignored the people getting trampled to death by her monsters. The official death count was fifteen people and twelve injured—not counting the zombies.

“There’s a coffee shop nearby. Want to go? My treat.”

“Nah.” Besides, eating alone with someone unable to eat was super awkward. “Not in the mood.”

“Should I leave you alone? If you want space, that’s fine.”

“No, stay, Ilma. I enjoy having you around.” Why did he say that? She might take it the wrong way! Johan cursed his friend for having no face to study. Was she blushing?

“Glad to hear it. I’d rather be here than at the meeting, anyway.”

“Meeting?” Johan uttered a stifled curse. In his moping, Simensen’s strategy meeting had completely slipped his mind.

“Samuel wasn’t kidding about you being unreliable sometimes,” Yareli said, amused.

“Thanks.” Johan turned away to hide his blush. He felt like such an idiot. “Let’s hurry before Rebecca gives us grief.”

“I’d rather ditch it. My presence is unnecessary anyway.”

“What? You’re the strongest fighter in the world!”

“My previous fights tell a different story. Since Dino, I’ve been on a terrible losing streak.”

Johan realized how glum his friend was, her posture not holding the confidence it once possessed. “Everyone else is outpacing me at an incredible speed. Heck, you might be stronger than me now.”

“That’s not true. You’re just having difficulty because you’ve lost your weapon! When Gramps completes your new one, you’ll stomp Surtur into the ground!”

Yareli gave a grunt, neither confirming nor denying the statement. Johan faltered, unsure how to cheer his friend up.

What a sad pair they were. “We should go somewhere. The distraction might do us some good.”

“I like that idea.” Yareli’s body language brightened.

“Painting?” Johan suggested, knowing that helped soothe his friend.

“Nah. I refuse to paint while you sit around doing nothing.”

“I don’t mind.” Despite the incomprehensible nature of her paintings, Johan found watching his friend’s work fascinating. He enjoyed the passion she put into her brush.

“How about a ride? It’s a beautiful night.”

“In this cold?” Winter would be arriving soon. The night air was already getting brisk.

“I find the cold refreshing. How about it?”

Except you can’t feel the cold, Ilma, Johan thought, tightening his jacket around him. Out loud, he said, “I’d like that.”

“Here.” Yareli thrust a helmet into Johan’s hand when they reached her bike. “Strap on and hold tight. I like riding fast.”

“Bring it.” Johan clasped onto Yareli after she mounted. It was an odd sensation, grabbing around someone without body heat. Yet, why was he feeling warm suddenly?

Without warning, Yareli drove forward and sped down the street. Cars zipped past, her driving just skirting the speed limit. While slightly terrifying, it exhilarated him. He could understand why his friend loved riding. She was an excellent driver, navigating the traffic with expert finesse.

As they approached the main district of Bifrost, Johan marveled at the lights and bustle as they passed the busy buildings and shops. Signs advertising various products demanded their attention, colors blurring as they zipped by. Bifrost was gorgeous at night. Johan just held his friend tight, enjoying the addictive thrill of speed.

“I should buy my own bike, then we could ride together”, Johan thought, having the time of his life. For a spoiled princess, Yareli had exceptional taste in thrills.

///

“Where the hell is he?” Rebecca glared at her phone, her eyes demanding that Johan answer in the next few seconds or else.

“It’s fine. We’ll give him the cliff notes version later. Besides, Ilma’s probably with him. Let them spend some time alone together.” Samuel waggled his eyebrows, bringing a smile to Rebecca’s lips. With Yareli being a literal skeleton, it was an interesting dating arrangement.

“You’re right. They’ve both suffered through a lot,” Rebecca said, wishing her friends the best. She wasn’t holding together much better, either. This adventure wasn’t as fun as she’d first imagined.

“She’s not here yet?” Pihu said, annoyed, entering the finely appointed sitting room. For a slimeball, Rebecca had to admit Simensen had excellent taste.

“She had other matters to attend to,” Rebecca said, half lying. Let her interpret that statement as she would.

The Valkyrie frowned but nodded. She sat on an armchair, impatiently waiting for the others to appear.

“It’s unfortunate,” Simensen said, legs crossed. He extended a glass, and a servant poured him a drink from a decanter of whiskey. It looked more expensive than a brand-new Ymir sports car. “We can manage without Fenrir. Besides, best have her patrolling the city to address any sudden problems.”

“That makes sense,” Abbey said, drinking water from the finest glassware Rebecca had ever seen.

“Except for Ilma and Johan. Everyone else is here? Good,” Anderson said as he entered. Instead of enjoying the room’s many luxuries, the cop watched the scene from a corner with keen interest.

“You’re mistaken. This meeting has two more guests,” someone said, and Rebecca bolted from her chair. Yareli’s father entered with his robot daughter in tow.

“Pleased to have you,” Simensen said, smooth as ever. “Come and sit. Enjoy a refreshment if you like.”

“Brandy,” Halvorsen said, sitting down. A servant took his order and sped away. ID-01 stood obediently near him, arms folded behind her.

“You,” Rebecca said, narrowing her eyes as her face turned sour. While she’d seen his picture before, Ilma’s father was imposing in person. He was a brick of a man, his loose coat not hiding the finely tuned muscle beneath, despite his advanced age. Despite having a bodybuilder’s frame, intense intelligence shone in his eyes.

“Surtur is my responsibility. While I wasn’t involved in his creation personally, ID-00 is my work. I can’t allow its misuse to stand,” Halvorsen replied.

“Like you can’t allow Ilma’s existence to stand?” Rebecca said, her tone flint. “Even though she’s the daughter you thought dead?”

Halvorsen bristled but remained silent. Clearly, his daughter wasn’t a subject he wished to discuss.

“And I see he brought his fake daughter along with him,” Samuel said, not hiding his contempt.

“Surtur is a threat to us all,” ID-01 said, showing no emotion as usual. “It is beneficial that we work together despite our previous conflicts.”

“Sure, ignore the times you tried to kill us,” Rebecca thought, but privately admitted she had a point.

If Halvorsen noticed Yareli’s absence, his expression remained stoic. But Rebecca heard him sigh, muttering about his daughter’s sporadic behavior. No doubt the man was used to Yareli’s free-spirited, unpredictable nature.

“And one more besides,” a man said, swaggering into the room. “Forgive me, but I invited myself in. A whiskey for me—strong as possible.”

Samuel growled with primal hatred as the last of their group entered the room. Dino picked a random seat, his boots slamming onto a nearby coffee table and leaving mud on the tabletop. The Ymir goon looked terrible, unhealed burn wounds scarring his face. From his previous injuries, it was a miracle he still stood.

“You bastard!” Samuel reached into his pocket for his hidden revolver. He hadn’t forgotten how the Ymir thug had killed the Boss and Randel in cold blood. Worse, Dino’s bored expression only egged Samuel on. Despite his nonplussed face, the Ymir goon’s hand reached for his Angra Armlet beneath his jacket.

“Enough,” Simensen said, his voice demanding obedience. “I didn’t invite you into my home for you to squabble like children. The world hangs in the balance, remember?” He gave each of his guests a penetrating glare. After some bristling, they relented.

“This isn’t over,” Samuel whispered to Dino, but he’d comply for now. Rebecca sighed, knowing this mess would likely resurface at the worst opportunity.

“Excellent. Now that everyone has settled, we can begin.” Simensen’s bodyguard clicked on a TV screen. A slide filled with data appeared, perking Rebecca’s immediate interest. It looked like a blueprint for a computer system.

“This is Project Surtur.” Simensen switched slides, indicating a grab bag of technical data that showed the system’s specifications.

“While I’m sure most of you are aware, I think the point is worth repeating,” Simensen said. “Ymir designed Surtur with the most advanced prediction algorithms known to date. Ymir hoped that, with enough data, Surtur could predict future events to their benefit—not just the stock market, but possibly even future catastrophes.”

Simensen’s information-gathering skills were more formidable than Rebecca had expected. His mole must be well-placed.

“One point. Is it actually possible to predict the stock market?” Samuel asked. “It still sounds too crazy to believe.”

“That, I can’t confirm. Wilson seemed to believe so, but that point remains moot,” Simensen replied. “What concerns me more is Surtur’s ability to reprogram his own code.”

“Reprogram his own code?”

Sci-fi stories of AI going rogue played through her head. This meant Surtur could fix issues with his code and develop new abilities. It’d be a fascinating study—if Surtur wasn’t trying to kill them all.

“This will cause some problems,” Simensen said, understating their circumstances. “No plan or stratagem will work twice against it. It will learn our moves better than we know them ourselves after only a few exchanges. That’s not even getting into his Ragnadriver’s monstrous strength.”

“What then?” Abbey asked, annoyed. “He’s unbeatable?”

“His code has probably already changed to something unrecognizable from his original design. But he might have other weaknesses we can exploit. Halvorsen, Surtur’s body is the prototype of the young lady over there, correct? There must be reasons it remained unused.”

“Several,” Halvorsen replied, taking the cue to begin his part. “Its energy efficiency was poor. The nanomachines weren’t self-sufficient enough to my satisfaction, requiring a constant resupply of energy to operate. Hell, the mechanical body itself was a wasteful energy drainer.”

“So he needs a lot of power to keep running?” Samuel asked, summarizing the point. “Like a phone with a bad battery.”

“Powerful as he is, he can’t extend too much effort without draining himself to dangerous levels,” Halvorsen said, nodding.

“How long are we talking about here?” Simensen asked, hope creeping into his voice.

“Around an hour,” Halvorsen said.

Rebecca’s eyes widened in amazement. That was a more significant weakness than she’d expected. A thought punctured her enthusiasm.

“Does Surtur realize this? What if he redesigned his nanomachines to be more efficient?”

“Unlikely,” Halvorsen said. “Despite his advanced AI, Surtur is still a machine. He doesn’t have human creativity. He probably doesn’t realize it’s a major weakness. Besides, redesigning them would take considerable effort.”

Human creativity. Rebecca hadn’t considered that point before, but he was correct. Being a machine, Surtur always acted in the most literal sense possible. It’s what made computers so aggravating—they did exactly what you instructed them to do.

But what about Yareli, though? A computer dictated her personality, yet she bristled with unbridled creativity. Didn’t that make her human? She eyed Halvorsen, wondering if similar thoughts were passing through his head.

“Okay, we keep him busy until he runs out of energy,” Dino said. “The problem is surviving that long. I’ve crossed swords with that creature. What’s stopping him from pounding us into the ground before that happens?”

“We won’t go in blindly,” Halvorsen said. “And I still have a few tricks. The Valkyrie Mk. 2 isn’t the only new weapon at our disposal.”

“Ah, Project Brokkr. ”Rebecca had almost forgotten about it after she’d stolen his files. “Is it nearly completed?” Were they about to have another new Kamen Rider? Kamen Rider Pihu, maybe? Or Kamen Rider Johan? That’d be pretty cool.

“The Valkyrie Mk. 2 was its prototype, used to enhance the original Valkyrie System. Thanks to Pihu’s brilliance, we got it up and running quickly.” Halvorsen’s comment earned a blush from the Indian girl.

Incredible. That was only the prototype? Rebecca thought, recalling how it had sent Hel and her forces scattering.

“But the material components aren’t cheap or easy to obtain,” Halvorsen continued. “With Ymir’s assets frozen, it will take time to procure them. Time I doubt we have.”

“Money is no obstacle to me,” Simensen said smoothly. “My resources are at your disposal.”

But the scientist seemed less than enthused by this prospect, knowing this potential benefactor had ulterior motives. This disaster started because Simensen wanted the Jotnar to engage in corporate espionage.

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Halvorsen said, not bothering to mask his distrust. “I should have Brokkr finished by the end of the week.”

Worry twisted Rebecca’s stomach into knots. Four days—if they lasted that long. And who knows when that nutcase Reine might attack again?

“In the meantime, we’ll keep an eye out,” Pihu said. “If Surtur is planning something, we’ll figure it out.”

“Is Surtur building some superweapon?” Samuel asked. “There must be some reason he’s being so quiet.”

“Good point,” Rebecca said, ideas piecing together. “We should search for any odd energy drains. If he isn’t building something, we can at least catch him powering himself.”

“I’ll pass that little tip along,” Anderson said, giving a grateful nod.

They broke into a scattered conversation about possible battle plans they might throw against Surtur. The adaptive and ever-growing AI would prove a difficult challenge—but hopefully not unbeatable. Rebecca figured an ambush before Surtur was ready was their best chance.

They’d agreed to hash out a more complete battle strategy later. Rebecca prayed the police would find Surtur’s hideout in time. Still, the meeting had left her marginally hopeful as they departed for their various tasks.

“Excuse me, young lady.” A voice called behind her, stopping Rebecca before she slipped into her van.

“What do you want?” Rebecca asked, her tone frosty.

“There’s a matter I wish to discuss with you,” Halvorsen said. Much to Rebecca’s relief, his fake daughter was elsewhere.

“We’re busy,” Samuel said, tapping his watch.

Despite knowing his presence wasn’t welcome, Halvorsen kept his tone civil. “This shall only take a moment. In two days, I want to arrange a meeting with Fenrir. There’s a matter I wish to discuss with her.”

“Really?” Rebecca said, unable to keep the heat from her voice. “For another ambush, like last time?”

“I mean it. I wish to give her something. This meeting was long in coming.”

“What a load of crap.” Halvorsen flinched as Rebecca slammed the door in his face. “Good day.”

Without another word, Rebecca drove away—leaving Yareli’s father coughing on the exhaust.

“Nice,” Samuel said, amused by her response. “Though he might have been sincere.”

“Maybe.” Something about Halvorsen’s presence had incensed her beyond reason. Rebecca sighed, shamefaced for acting so petulantly.

What if he had been sincere? With disaster looming, Yareli might not get another chance to have a genuine conversation with her father. While Halvorsen’s face was impassive as ever, she’d detected genuine emotion in his voice.

“Okay, we’ll tell her.” Besides, Yareli was a big girl, capable of making her own decisions. If it was a trap, Rebecca would be her getaway driver.

She supposed that if she could patch things with her mother, so could Yareli.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 32

“Impressive.” While Reine studied ID-01’s new Valkyrie Mk. 2 armor with an indifferent air, Yareli detected wariness in her voice.

“And I’m about to make her day worse,” Yareli thought, slipping around Reine’s blindside.

But with remarkable agility, metal ground against metal as Reine used her Rangadriver to block the blow. Fire spread across Yareli’s middle as Reine shot her point-blank.

“Out of the way!” Silver filled her vision, and bottles shattered as ID-01 knocked Yareli aside with a wing. Reine howled as sparks flew when Valkyrie’s blade connected. A follow-up kick to the face sent Hel barreling through a nearby car, it crumpled like a soda can on impact.

“What incredible power…” Yareli struggled to rise past the bar’s counter. A man—the bartender—trembled like a frightened child, clutching the cricket bat he’d used on unruly customers. He regained some measure of calm when Yareli placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Dammit!” Reine’s Rangadriver flared, but the Valkyrie’s wings deflected each shot.

“You aren’t making this easy.” The former Valkyrie broke down into amused laughter. The sound unnerved Yareli, who suppressed a shudder. As abruptly as it started, Reine turned deadly serious. “I won’t lose to some toy that thinks it’s human!” The former Valkyrie pivoted around her opponent, peppering ID-01 with a barrage of bolts.

“Whoa!” Reine skipped back, and the tips of ID-01’s right wing slipped past her cheek by centimeters. Not missing a step, Valkyrie slashed at her unbalanced opponent.

“You!” Reine seethed as sparks flew when Valkyrie’s blade drove into her chest.

ID-01 pushed her advantage, wings offering protection as she attacked. While Reine’s steps were deft and light, the sheer ferocity of her opponent’s strikes overwhelmed her.

“Damn!” Reine stumbled when a mislaid step made her foot collide with a chair.

She howled in pain as Valkyrie’s sword slashed across her chest. A wing followed up to stab at her exposed back, but Reine deflected it with her Rangadriver, buying the precious seconds she needed to pivot away. While the surface of the Valkyrie’s wing smoldered from the impact, it seemed otherwise unharmed. Reine eyed Yareli circling behind her, claws extended.

“A queen knows when best to retreat. This isn’t over!” Reine pointed her weapon at the ground and blasted the pavement beneath her. The resulting explosion filled the square with dust, obscuring all vision. With a wave of her wings, ID-01 dispelled the smoke. But Hel had vanished from sight—along with any of her zombie minions that hadn’t already fled.

In a single bound, Valkyrie took to the air, searching for any sign of their enemy. When her quarry didn’t present herself, she plopped to the ground and withdrew the key she’d used to transform. Yareli dismissed her armor too. 

“She got away,” ID-01 said, seemingly emotionless, but Yareli detected a twinge of disappointment in her voice.

“The coward, fleeing the moment the situation looked difficult,” Abbey said, glaring, teeth bared in a snarl.

“The new driver performed better than my projections had predicted,” Pihu said, whipping dust from her casual dress. Blood stained its trim, ruining it.

The results of the battle were ghastly. People moaned and cried out in pain around them. One woman had her legs crushed to a bloody pulp, while another sported a nasty bruise on her head. From the way she was blinking, Yareli concluded she had a concussion. There were bodies scattered among the decaying zombie corpses, too—but thankfully fewer than she’d expected. She thanked God it hadn’t been worse.

“You better get going, Fenrir. We’ll keep in touch,” Abbey whispered, eyeing the police officers approaching to survey the situation. Yareli nodded, wanting to avoid any awkward questions.

ID-01 stared at her, her expression its typical unreadability. Yareli tensed, fearing her counterpart might start another fight. But she turned away, deciding enough fighting had happened today. Yareli sensed, however, that the battle between them would soon come.

There could only be one Ilma Halvorsen.

“Hey!” an officer said, yelling futilely as Johan joined her and they sprinted away. His boar form kept pace with ease. Rebecca and Samuel slipped off somewhere as well, also wanting to avoid the police.

Before Yareli disappeared down an alley, she turned back toward the bloody scene. It broke her heart to see so many people needlessly hurt. Tears pricked at her skeletal sockets out of rage and sadness.

Reine would pay for this.

“Hurry!” Johan said.

After one last glance at the tragic scene, she disappeared deeper into downtown Bifrost with her friend.

///

“Another damn attack,” Chief Greer said, fuming. “Bifrost has gone to hell in a handbasket! And we can’t do a damn thing about it! What the hell can cause zombies?”

Anderson allowed his boss to vent. Since the Bifrost Police Department Massacre, the man had seemed frayed at the edges. His already thinning gray hair had become patchy, and he’d lost a couple of pounds.

“The lab found traces of nanomachines in their blood,” Assistant Chief Dorotea said. “They’ve somehow reactivated synapses that had long since decayed. Doctor Halvorsen is still working on how that’s possible.”

“And it’s confirmed that they are, in fact, the deceased?” the chief asked.

“Yes.” Anderson produced a photo of a smiling middle-aged woman with her mates on a cruise ship. “Pauline LaRue. Died three months ago from a sudden heart attack. She hadn’t been taking the best care of her body. She was one of the zombies who attacked Nidavellir’s Pourhouse.”

“And Reine Beaufort. Have you confirmed she was at the scene of the crime?” the chief asked. “I seem to recall witnesses also placing her at the Data Pirate’s Den attack.”

Dorotea nodded. “Positive identification. Unlike last time, we’ve got photo proof.” They’d searched for her for interrogation after the previous incident, but she’d vanished without a trace, her apartment unused for days. Still, information about the attack was spotty. Some claimed the presence of a fierce wolf monster in armor, but the reports contradicted themselves. Yareli had been caught in some photos, but thankfully they were so blurry you’d only confuse her for another monster. 

“Ymir has denied any involvement and has disowned their former employee,” Dorotea continued. “But the damage correlates with the burn marks inflicted on Mark Wilson.”

“So, she steals what must be a prototype weapon from her employers and uses it to go on a rampage after killing her boss. Do the attack sites share anything in common?” Anderson asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer.

“The Valkyries were at Nidavellir’s Pourhouse at the scene of the attack,” Dorotea replied.

“Right. Abigail Lange was involved in her last attack. So, she’s going after her previous employers. It likely won’t do any good, but assign officers to watch over them.” Chief Greer scowled. “We don’t have any damn choice. Until we have a better solution, work with Doctor Halvorsen to resolve this issue.”

“We can’t stop her otherwise. I doubt our new toys will have much effect against her armor.” These newfangled weapons confounded Anderson. What did the police need with freaking laser guns? They didn’t even have self-driving cars, for flipping sake, back in his day. Besides, their new guns looked more like toys than real weapons.

“We’ll need them to confront this new breed of criminal, sir,” his partner said. “We can’t have the army or the Valkyries solve all our problems.”

“True.” Anderson suppressed a smile. General Holloway was furious when he learned of Halvorsen’s deal with the city council—pushing ahead with these new advanced weapons for police use only. Halvorsen seemed uninterested in creating military weapons.

“Get going!” Chief Greer slammed his fist against his desk. “We’re stopping these monsters, whatever it takes!”

“Understood.” Anderson hoped that at their meeting tonight they’d devise some sort of counter-strategy for Surtur. Too much was riding on their success.

///

“Damn.” Reine rubbed at her chest, still sore from where that fake Ilma had struck her. Another damn Kamen Rider. She couldn’t believe the power Doctor Halvorsen had created through this revamped Valkyrie system. She’d assumed the Valkyries wouldn’t be a threat.

Not that she was worried. Fenrir was still the weakest of the Kamen Riders. Reine would ambush her in a secluded area where nothing could interrupt them. Hel could always summon more zombies—though her minions’ habit of acting on their own volition could prove troublesome. They’d fled to save their skins without express orders from her.

An annoyance, but getting more Angra Armlets proved a more pressing issue. Wait, weren’t some seized during the Niflhel raid?

A plan was coming to completion in her head. She whistled a Ymir ditty ironically as she headed deeper toward downtown.

“Wait.” A newcomer spoke, and Reine instinctively pointed her Rangadriver in that direction. Her weapon trembled as she saw their identity, unable to believe her eyes.

“President!” This had to be a terrible nightmare. “I—I killed you.”

Mark Wilson stared at her with an astonishing lack of emotion, considering she’d blasted a hole through his chest the last time they met. Through the haze of her shock, she noticed he wore clothes quite unlike the dignified man she remembered. Instead of his usual freshly pressed suits, Wilson wore a leather jacket and sunglasses. He seemed more like a biker than the president of a multi-trillion-dollar company.

“I am not Mark Wilson.” The man pulled away his sunglasses. Reine stepped back, startled by the smoldering orange eyes staring at her. “I am Surtur.”

“S-Surtur…” Wasn’t that the name of a super-advanced computer system Ymir had designed?

Reine regained her wits, pointing her Rangadriver at the unknown visitor’s chest. “You better explain yourself, or you’ll have a hole in your chest like the real Mark Wilson.”

No emotion appeared on Surtur’s face—not even a flicker of apprehension at having a weapon pointed at his heart. “I was designed to fulfill the original Mark Wilson’s wishes. For that purpose, they uploaded my systems into this mechanical body. It’s a prototype android created by Doctor Valter Halvorsen.”

“Right…” Reine’s mind whirled, almost dizzying her. Had Ymir tried to cover up the president’s death with this copy? But something about the doppelgänger seemed off. He didn’t share the president’s stern demeanor, nor the passion the man hid behind his steely gaze. “And why are you here?”

“I need your power,” Surtur replied.

“Okay…” Reine waited for the robot to elaborate, but he offered nothing else. “Why?”

“Obstacles are emerging that might interfere with my mission.”

“Kamen Rider Valkyrie.” Reine spat the name, seeing Surtur’s point. The Mk. 2 Valkyrie suits would become quite bothersome if they were mass-produced.

“And the one they call Kamen Rider Fenrir,” Surtur said, his emotionless tone growing graver. “I calculate she might become a dangerous, unknown quantity.”

“Fair point. And you’re suggesting an alliance?” Reine wondered why she was dealing with a robot, but she found herself curious despite herself.

“Correct.”

“I see.” Her mind raced, considering the possibilities. Did she want this? It would make fighting both Ilmas much easier. Much to her astonishment, she noticed a Rangadriver peeking from a duffel bag.

Reine smiled her best devilish grin. “You’re on.”

Surtur gave her a slight nod in response. “Those devices you provided your minions—do you have more?”

“Plenty, my friend.” She knew just who she’d resurrect next. It would spread pure terror across Bifrost—a resurrected nightmare they wouldn’t awaken from.

It was weird fighting alongside the man she’d killed, but he’d suit her purposes well. She’d use him for her own ends. Both Ilmas were in for a nasty surprise in their next encounter.

“Ragnarök approaches ever closer.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 31

“Randel, what happened to you?” Johan stared at his old friend, his hands trembling with emotion.

It had seemed like ages since he’d last seen the man, his fight against Ymir occupying everything. He’d tried his damnedest to pretend that his fellow Jotnar’s death hadn’t bothered him. A man should never allow his feelings to impede his judgment. The sight of Randel’s familiar face returned the guilt Johan had pretended didn’t exist, his knees buckling as it washed over him.

“I’ve been reborn, Johan.” Randel’s dead, inhuman eyes bored into him. “Brought back to repay every indignity I ever suffered because of you.”

Reine smirked as she extended a hand, sending an unheard command to her army. People screamed as the undead creatures charged forward, boxing the outdoor bar’s patrons in.

“Henshin!” Yareli charged forward, ready to crush their attackers with her wolfish might.

Rebecca hid under a table while Samuel joined the unarmored Valkyries to fight. Johan’s heart lost several beats when he looked into Reine’s eyes. She was delighting in the fear her creations were causing. This was the girl he so admired? This creature?

“Stop this, Randel,” Johan said, unsure why he was arguing with a monster. “This isn’t you.”

“Aren’t I? You got me killed, Johan. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” his late friend replied.

“And you leave our killer free,” the Boss said. “Did you even care to avenge us?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Samuel said, more distressed that Johan had even seen his friend. “I would never allow your deaths to go unavenged!”

“Likely story,” the Boss replied, his tone dismissive.

“And you,” Randel said, directing his ire toward Johan. “You didn’t even attempt to save me, did you? You fled like the coward you are! Typical Johan, always running with his tail between his legs whenever danger rears its ugly head.”

“No!” Johan said, his blood boiling. Nobody called him a coward. Besides, what did this creature know? He’d been dead this entire time! “Terrorize!”

While he hadn’t brought his sword, Johan figured his boar form should be enough to destroy this monstrosity that shared his late friend’s face.

“It’s a Niflhel!” a person screamed in alarm. The bar patrons fled from Johan, mistaking his boar form for the infamous marauders who’d terrorized Bifrost only days earlier.

“I better get serious too.” Randel withdrew an Angra Armlet from a coat pocket and attached it to his left arm. Next, he readied an Uhyre key with a wolf and thrust it into the device’s key slot.

“Terrorize.” Johan’s old friend’s body jerked, blue flames gathering around him.

Randel’s body morphed, his face extending into a grotesque parody of canine features. Mud-colored fur covered him, hiding a thin, almost skeletal frame. His wolf form snarled, showing razor-sharp teeth. His breath was putrid even from this distance, smelling of dead flesh.

For a split second, Johan hesitated. He stared into Randel’s glowing orange eyes, finding only malevolence within them. Could he fight an old friend? The sudden lunging snap made Johan’s decision for him.

Blood stained his brown fur as Randel’s fangs drove into his extended arm, only exciting his old friend’s bloodlust. Johan hissed as the fangs sank deeper.

“Off!” A quick jab into Randel’s chest drove him back, making the creature release its grip. His arm screamed in agony, but Johan would live.

“Not bad,” Randel said, more amused than hurt. “But a boar, though? Figures. You were nothing but prey.”

“It seems our weakest member has grown some backbone.” The Boss walked up next to his subordinate. He pulled up his sleeve, revealing his own Angra Armlet. “Terrorize.”

His former boss’s body changed, becoming more feline. His matted hair was straggly, the color of dead leaves, with a white scruff of fur across his chest. Claws extended from his fingers, so sharp they seemed to cut ribbons in the air.

“Another one?” Johan said, his panic growing. “How many have an Angra Armlet?”

“Interesting question, rat,” Reine said, amused. “As many as I could steal from that Ymir factory.”

Johan’s heart skipped a beat as almost all the undead monstrosities pulled out their own Uhyre keys.

This was the final straw. The crowd went hysterical in fear. They charged Reine’s army, heedless of the danger. They knew what power these monstrous devices held, deciding to flee despite the risks.

“No!” Yareli said, but her warning came too late. The undead monstrosities awaited the fleeing, panicked people with evil glee.

The screams would haunt Johan’s nightmares until the end of his days. Bones snapped underfoot as the monsters stomped forward, heedless of whatever they crushed in their charge toward Yareli. People tried rushing past toward safety, but many were either smacked aside or barreled over. Dear God, it was a bloodbath.

“You!” Losing all sense of herself, Yareli charged Reine with abandon.

“You can’t reach a queen that easily,” Reine said, still in her civilian form. She snapped her fingers. Two monsters engaged Fenrir, barreling her off course from the side.

Yareli snarled like a feral animal and slashed back at her attackers. They circled around her, cutting off any escape. Her first attacker, an untransformed zombie, lost their head to a slash across the throat. A fox creature snapped at Yareli’s head from behind with its fangs. She pivoted around, Fenrir’s claws severing its torso. The creature refused to die—its remaining half grabbing Fenrir’s legs. The untransformed joined the dogpile, restraining Yareli, so their monstrous fellows could tear her apart.

Black blood splattered against Yareli’s armor as her claws ripped apart anything that got close, barely noticing whether the target of her wrath was even human. Her ferocity and violence turned Johan’s stomach. He’d forgotten how terrifying his friend could be. Reine watched from the sidelines with interest, playing with the Rangadriver in her hand.

“Is this new your best friend, Johan?” Randel said, his tone mocking. “And I’m supposed to be the monster here?” The Boss watched him in silence, his feline eyes disapproving. Johan froze on the spot, unable to do anything but watch.

“Johan!”

He jerked as somebody called his name, glancing in that direction. Much to Johan’s surprise, it was Abbey. The Valkyrie spoke with authority. “Fenrir can take care of herself. We need to guide these civvies to safety!”

Even armorless, the Valkyries hadn’t been idle in this conflict. While Abbey aided the injured, Pihu fought off Reine’s monstrous undead horde. They fought with courage, using their fists and feet to surprising effectiveness.

A monster—a fly-like creature—bounded toward Pihu. The Valkyrie ducked under a vicious swipe, delivering several blows into its stomach. While they inflicted little damage, the distraction allowed a frightened young woman with a bloody gash across her head to escape. Gunfire boomed through the night sky as Samuel backed them up, shooting into the zombie horde from behind.

“Fenrir is ours! Your interference will be your death!” the zombie howled, its decayed lips twisted into a snarl. It opened its mouth wide, exposing blackened, rotted teeth.

It lunged forward, snapping at Abbey’s exposed neck. Blood spattered her casual dress as a bullet exploded a hole in its head. After the Valkyrie gave Samuel a polite nod for the assistance, she returned her attention to their attackers.

“Pull yourself together, Johan! Your friends need you,” Johan thought before roaring a challenge. “Get out of my way!”

“Finally showing some backbone, eh?” Randel said, unimpressed. Johan ignored him, charging forward with his tusks extended.

Blood trickled down his shaggy fur as claws met flesh—a slight slash across his arm. Compared to his previous battles, this was nothing. Observers scattered, confused why a monster would fight its own. Randel staggered back as a punch drove into his chest, but Johan howled when claws raked across his face in retaliation.

“They can’t feel pain?” Johan struck his former friend even harder, the pavement cracking as Randel hit the ground. But his former friend recovered quickly, leaping forward to gut Johan. He sidestepped away, but agony bit into his side. It had been a distraction—the Boss’s razor-sharp claws tearing deep into his flesh.

From the corner of Johan’s eye, he watched Yareli rip herself free of the monsters grasping at her. A sudden boom thundered through the scene, and Yareli staggered back. A scorch mark scarred her armor as Reine’s energy bolts scored direct hits.

This only drove Fenrir further into a total frenzy. The dogpile’s numbers dwindled, shredded by Yareli’s claws.

“Seems I need to get serious.” Reine pulled out the Uhyre key and inserted it into her Rangadriver. “Henshin.”

Sparks flew as claws raked against Reine’s metal shell. A barrel pressed against Yareli’s head, firing a bolt of energy at point-blank range. Fenrir staggered and howled, but it only drove her forward. Reine cried in pain as claws slashed into her.

“It’s like rage gives her power.” Johan suppressed a shudder, watching as the fly monster lost its head when it tried attacking Yareli from behind. More monsters redirected their attention from their potential victims toward Fenrir, who fended them off with savage fury. But their lack of pain made them disregard their safety, attacking with animal ferocity, heedless of the danger to themselves.

“You really are a beast, aren’t you?” While still calm, a note of tension crept into Reine’s voice. While their blows hurt Fenrir, they only seemed to incense her further. With a click, she pulled out and reinserted her Uhyre key. “Hold her still. I’ll blast her to pieces from here.”

“No!” Johan leapt forward, but the forms of the Boss and Randel blocked his path. “Dammit.”

“Grave Bolter!”

The intensity of the blast temporarily turned the starry night sky to day, almost blinding Johan. A line of melted street appeared where the shot had struck, leaving a hole in a nearby building—wide enough to see clean through.

“That was close,” Yareli said, panting. She’d avoided the attack by a hair, but the monster beside her wasn’t so lucky—one was missing its entire torso. Another stumbled a few steps before collapsing.

Sirens filled the night as police cars charged forward in their direction. Officers rushed from their vehicles, guns pointed toward the crowd of monsters.

“Freeze!” a sergeant cried, a tremble in his voice. The sight of Reine’s zombies and monstrous horde proved a fearsome sight.

“Great, that’s all that we need.” But the brave officers proved more capable than expected. 

Several monsters charged toward the newcomers, and the officers opened fire. A fox monster staggered back as energy bolts crashed into its chest. Johan blinked, realizing the officers weren’t carrying normal sidearms. Instead, they used strange futuristic weapons, lights blinking from panels. Still, the shots only annoyed the monsters.

A police car flew across the open-air bar as a bear monster threw it toward a gathered group of officers. While most scattered away from the oncoming projectile, others weren’t as lucky. The sound of breaking bone sickened Johan’s stomach as it crushed a poor man to death. The monstrous horde abandoned their attack on civilians and focused their violent rampage on the police.

“Concentrate your fire!”

They fired on a walrus monster that gloated over the dead body of a female officer beneath it, blood staining its tusks. The creature staggered back, flinching more in reflex than pain as bolts blasted into its face. Annoyed, the monster charged forward eagerly, intending to gut its attackers—but it never reached its quarry, as a chunk of its head exploded. It stood momentarily stunned, half of its face burned off, before collapsing and returning to its human form.

“It worked.” Johan stared, amazed. Where had they gotten such a weapon? Ilma’s father?

The officers worked next to destroy the other monsters assailing them. But Johan had little time to worry about the officers fighting for their lives. Fangs dug deeply into his arms as Randel grabbed him. It gave the Boss plenty of freedom to slash his chest to pieces.

Johan allowed his fury to boil to the surface, channeling it into power. How dare Reine do this? Why hadn’t he seen the idol for the monster she was?

Time seemed to slow as he focused everything on this fight. The claws trying to vivisect him moved in slow motion. Johan anticipated every twitch of the Boss’s muscles as he slashed toward him. His body twisted out of the way, kicking down hard into the cat monster’s knee. Bone shattered as the blow struck, and the Boss toppled onto one knee.

In retaliation, Randel gripped his fangs tighter and slashed toward an already bloody wound on Johan’s side. He might as well have been a toddler trying to fight a professional MMA fighter. Johan slapped the blow aside, already seeing its trajectory miles ahead.

“This isn’t over!” Was it his imagination, or was that fear in Randel’s eyes? 

Much to Johan’s surprise, his late friend bolted, the Boss in tow. Johan stood there, conflicted. Should he pursue the perverse corruption of his former friends, or help Yareli and the others? 

Johan’s heart turned black as he looked at the woman he’d so admired, the girl who’d charmed his heart with her angelic voice. There was no question what he’d do.

Distracted by her feud with Fenrir, Reine howled as Johan’s tusks slashed her from behind.

“Insect!” Reine said, her tone venomous. Sparks flew from Johan’s face as she unloaded a volley of bolts into him. He fought through the pain to charge at her, but Hel danced away like a leaf, laughing at his impotence. 

More monsters died as the cops focused on taking them down from their various cover positions. Their new weapons were no joke. But Reine’s zombie creations weren’t willing to allow themselves to die easily.

Like Randel and the Boss, a fox monster abandoned the battlefield and slipped into a nearby alley. Many of its fellows followed suit, forcing the officers to give chase. It proved for naught—some already escaped into the downtown area. Johan cursed, knowing they’d soon enough become a problem for everyone.

“Get back here!” a female cop yelled futilely, trying to shoot the legs from under a beetle monster fleeing toward a nearby office building. Much to the officer’s shock, the creature flew from the open doorway a moment later. A figure emerged from where the monster had tried to flee.

“Ilma, thank goodness you’re here,” Pihu said, clutching a bloody gash across her arm.

“Finally!” Reine said, her voice filled with malevolence. “All the players are here. Now the fun can start!”

With purposeful steps, ID-01 walked from the parking lot. Her expression was flat, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene with a glance. Her gaze settled on Yareli first before turning to the traitor, her mouth tightening in a frown.

“Look out!” Abbey said, her tone frightful.

The beetle monster swung its horn toward ID-01’s exposed head, smiling in murderous delight.

Like a dancer, the Valkyrie pivoted away with preternatural grace. The monster’s horn missed her by centimeters. With ruthless efficiency, ID-01 retaliated. An elbow into the creature’s head made it stagger back with incredible force.

“What incredible power.”

And the doppelgänger wasn’t even wearing her Valkyrie armor. Johan noticed a sleek device hanging around her waist. It was raven black with gleaming golden trim. The belt had a stylized hawk, wings folded together like it was ready to give flight. The other Ilma held a blocky item tight in her hand, but Johan couldn’t decipher its identity from this distance.

“You’re dead!” the beetle monster snarled, raising a fist to smash ID-01’s head to pieces.

The robot pressed a button on the object in her hand. It slid open, revealing glowing runes beneath. They sprawled across its surface, each roughly carved into the key’s metal face.

What was this? It wasn’t a Uhyre key.

“Henshin.”

ID-01 slid the key into her belt. The bird’s wings extended wide, revealing a gleaming red gem beneath them. Light consumed her as her belt activated. Silver body armor appeared around her body—similar to her old Valkyrie armor, but sleeker, with gold trim running across her arms and legs. Metallic wings sprouted from her back, formed from jagged pieces of metal.

“Get out of my way.”

“Gah!” The creature howled, clutching a stump that had once been its arm. Johan marveled. He hadn’t even seen her move.

ID-01 ignored the howling monster, focusing all her attention on the rogue Valkyrie. The steel weapon in her grip radiated power, emitting a blue haze around the blade’s tip.

“You little…!” The beetle creature attacked from behind, thinking ID-01 distracted. He didn’t even finish the sentence, eyes wide in terror as his body slid apart.

Metal wings glinted in the moonlight, each feather sharp as a dagger. ID-01 continued her purposeful walk forward.

“Remarkable,” Reine said, watching the Valkyrie dispatch several of her monsters with ID-01’s trademark ruthless efficiency. “Halvorsen is a true genius.”

ID-01 paused several paces before her foe, sword pointed toward Hel’s heart.

“This is the Valkyrie Mk. 2. Call me Kamen Rider Valkyrie. My father’s greatest creation will be the death of Ymir’s mistakes. Including you, Reine.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 30

“What the?” Ralph squinted as he studied his computer screen, staring in amazement. This equation was a masterpiece.

“Predict the stock market?” It must be some prank. The variables involved would be insane. His mouse wheel squeaked as he rolled down the equation’s numerous pages. Despite earning a master’s in computer science, Ralph had difficulty understanding the document’s intricacies.

“I wonder if Ranjit would make better sense of this.” His partner would mock him for falling for such an obvious prank, but Ralph couldn’t help but wonder.

A call distracted him, and he pushed aside the mysterious equation for a later date. With their current project behind schedule, he couldn’t afford any distractions. The client had demanded several key changes, yet somehow expected delivery by the same due date.

“Typical. They assume we programmers conjure code from thin air like a wizard.”

“Damn, I need more coffee.” Ralph rubbed at his strained eyes. It was past two, and already he was developing a headache. The stress of delivering by the deadline had resulted in many sleepless nights, and it was taking its toll. He’d been unconsciously staring at the same screen for almost ten minutes. Why did he want this job again? The salary sure as hell didn’t deliver. The company janitor probably got better pay than him!

“Better.” He sipped his coffee, enjoying its bitter taste. While Ralph waited for the coffee to perk him up, he took a much-needed ten-minute break. After conversing with his cubicle neighbor, Tanya, he browsed the internet. Without realizing it, he’d opened the news.

“ONRA is up?” He cursed himself for not buying the stock as Ranjit had suggested. It had risen 17.62 percent. While a promising investment three months ago, it hadn’t seemed worth the risk. He’d lost a great deal of money. Potential money, anyway.

He browsed his favorite Scabbit board, and a post caught his eye. People were entering a heated discussion about the mysterious equation, some arguing passionately about the potential of prediction algorithms. Someone posted the old adage that, with enough data, a computer could map every future possibility.

Wouldn’t that be something? Not that Ralph believed such a ridiculous fantasy. Still, it was an intriguing thought experiment. Curious, he entered all of ONRA’s relevant information into the mysterious equation. He blinked as he considered the results.

The equation said ONRA’s prospects weren’t encouraging—falling almost 40 US dollars. In the upcoming months, the stock would become almost worthless. How was that possible? Analysts argued its prospects were favorable, claiming it would rise to untold heights.

Ralph tried another company—DRAY. After bad deals and mismanagement, the company’s stock had dropped to figurative pennies. Unlike ONRA, the equation promised a bright future. If Ralph invested now, he’d gain tens of thousands of dollars. He leaned back in his chair, considering.

“What the heck.” While it seemed like superstitious foolishness, Ralph accepted the equation’s advice. It would be an interesting experiment. After some consideration, he invested three hundred dollars into DRAY. If the endeavor failed, he wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.

“Still, it should prove interesting conversation fodder.” Ranjit would eat this story up.

///

“Wilson’s returned from the dead?” Johan asked, incredulous.

“As an insane AI, but yes,” Simensen replied.

“Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?” And he wanted to enact Ragnarök? How had his life come to this? Shitty stepfather or not, he should have stayed in Duisburg.

“Ymir must have tried to duplicate what happened to me with Wilson. In a sense, I’m basically an AI, too.” Yareli thumbed her Uhyre key. “Something must have gone terribly wrong.”

“No, Ilma. Unlike that thing, you’re a real person,” Johan said, scowling at the comparison.

“Regardless, its abilities were remarkable, even without a Rangadriver. I fear he might be unstoppable.” Much to Johan’s surprise, the Ophion Industries president sounded shaken—a far cry from his usual unflappable self.

“Ymir designed Surtur with the most advanced learning algorithms possible,” Yareli said, considering the story. “I’ll talk with Gramps. Maybe he can devise some plans to counter it.”

“Or we could just ambush him.” While his prediction powers were frightful, Surtur couldn’t handle them all.

“If it was that easy, young man, I would have already destroyed it.” Genuine anger crept into Simensen’s voice.

“Easy. Don’t fight.” Yareli lifted a hand to placate any flaring tempers. “An ambush is an excellent idea, but we need to maximize our chances of victory. That includes gaining more allies.”

Johan rolled his eyes. “You’re not suggesting we recruit the Valkyries. They hate your guts! You nearly fought in a hospital with one of them!”

“Nevertheless, I’m friends with one of them. She can convince them. Surtur is a threat to everyone.” Yareli paused, her body language turning pensive. “Though, ID-01 is still a wild card.”

Simensen clasped his hands together. “Indeed, gather what allies you can. It used to be a computer system, correct? My sources will learn what they can about Surtur’s origins.”

“Rebecca’s mother was involved with its creation.” Yareli snapped her fingers. “I’ll squeeze whatever I can from Detective Anderson about his interrogation with her.”

“And a plan is taking form,” Simensen said, giving a genial smile. “Keep in contact. Let’s reconvene at my mansion at twenty-one hundred hours and pool our information. With Surtur still quiet, let’s take advantage of this calm.”

Strange. Shouldn’t Surtur be running around destroying everything? Something about causing a real-life Ragnarök? Instead of relief that Surtur wasn’t causing another rampage, his worry only deepened. Surtur was planning something. He knew it in his bones.

“The experiment is almost ready,” an Ophion Industries scientist said, running up toward them. The disheveled man eyed the ruins of his lab with deep remorse, scowling in frustration.

“Experiment?” Yareli asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Simensen said. “My limitations with my Rangadriver have become painfully apparent. Since I have little time to train, I have other means to get stronger.”

“Such as?” Johan said, raising an eyebrow.

Mischief glinted in Simensen’s eye. “Something I plan to keep a surprise. Now, off with you. I’ll keep you informed of Surtur’s activities.”

“Sure, if they don’t end up in my spam filter,” Johan said, taking some delight in annoying his former employer. They left the ruined lab to reunite with the others.

“Do we really need that slimeball’s help?” Johan stretched a foot over a ruined stop sign, carefully navigating around the other debris.

“Can’t say I’m thrilled, either. War makes odd bedfellows, I suppose.”

Emergency personnel were still hard at work in the ruined district, trying to locate any survivors. While the fire teams had extinguished most of the fires, the acrid smell of smoke still stung Johan’s sinuses. “We keep stumbling into one crisis after another. Meeting you is the only bright spot in this whole mess.”

“I’d never thought my best friend would be a scumbag like you.” Yareli struck a playful punch on his shoulder, attempting some levity. “Father taught me better than to associate with people like Jotnar.”

“Hey, at least I’m honest that I’m trash,” Johan said, taking mock offense. Then he sighed. “Seriously though, when will these battles stop?” Sure, Johan was a total badass with his boar powers, but this constant fighting wore him to the bone.

“After this Surtur mess, I doubt Ymir will survive the lawsuits and controversies. Mission accomplished in my book.”

“After that?” Johan asked, curious.

“Hang with you, obviously. Not for jobs or anything, but I’d love to hang out. I’m definitely not rejoining my father’s Valkyries.”

“I suppose that ship has sailed.” Some amusement returned to Johan, if briefly. Not that it surprised him. Yareli was a very independent person. “You’re certain you won’t help the Jotnar? With your skills, no job would give us much trouble.”

“Positive. Besides, I have my art to consider. It’s still my dream to go pro.”

“Good luck.” Johan wanted to comment on the unlikeliness of that possibility but decided to spare Yareli’s feelings. Who knew? It might happen. After navigating a maze of debris, they returned to the hospital.

“You will not believe this!” Rebecca said, running out to meet them. “Ymir turned President Wilson into a monster!”

“I believe we can,” Yareli said. “Gather everyone together. We have much to discuss.”

///

“Will my proposal work, Doctor McGuire?” Simensen asked.

After conversing with Fenrir, they’d moved to a more accommodating environment. Thankfully, some lower-level administrative offices had escaped unharmed—perfect for a small conference. As usual, his bodyguard, James, watched the proceedings without comment.

“Sir, making it work isn’t the issue,” McGuire said, playing with his glasses. Despite his best efforts, the scientist couldn’t hide his nervousness.

“It can’t be helped. Besides, I’m ready.” Surtur’s attack had damaged several prototype weapons and armor, including a new sword for Fenrir. “It’s time to unchain Jörmungandr.”

“Perhaps. But 100 percent of Jörmungandr’s power shouldn’t be required. We installed those power limiters for a reason.”

“I realize that, Doctor, but I can handle it.” Before Fenrir, nobody had used a Ragnadriver safely. But Ophion Industries employed the world’s most talented scientists, and they’d found a solution to the device’s issues. Simensen thirsted to access the Ragnadriver’s untapped potential. He’d prove he was the world’s strongest Kamen Rider.

“Okay, we’ll allow access to forty percent power. The twenty percent increase should be enough. It shouldn’t apply too much pressure on your body.”

“I want the ability to release the limiters at will.” Simensen’s tone brooked no argument. “In battle, it might mean life or death.”

While McGuire wanted to argue against such a proposal, he remembered who signed his paycheck.

“I see your wisdom. But you will train with the enhanced suit before entering actual combat.”

“Naturally. I do nothing half-baked. When we fight Surtur again, I’ll be ready.”

///

“After everything, Simensen wants an alliance?” Abbey said.

“I can’t say I’m thrilled either,” Pihu said, sipping a fruity cocktail. The outdoor bar was packed with people, many eager to drink away Bifrost’s recent troubles. “Though, our usefulness is somewhat limited. Our last battle damaged most of our suits past the point of reasonable repair. Only one remains intact.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Yareli said, wincing. She stood on the sidelines, watching her friends enjoy themselves. It was torture, but Yareli couldn’t alter the fact she didn’t possess a stomach.

“We might have some options, but they’ll need time,” Pihu said, keeping her cards close to her chest. Even the usually friendly Abbey was close-lipped.

“Despite the situation, they still see us as enemies,” Yareli thought. She should have guessed gaining their trust wouldn’t be easy. “It’s quiet for the moment. Work as quickly as you can.”

“Why isn’t Surtur attacking, though?” Rebecca said, agitation clear on her face. “Simensen said he’s gone to ground. They’re having difficulty tracking him.”

“Do you think he’s waiting for something?” Samuel asked, expression thoughtful. He moseyed closer to Pihu, trying to chat her up.

“Is this a private party?” a newcomer said. Everybody tensed as a young girl dressed in a fashionable gothic Lolita dress walked toward their table. The upcoming night seemed to blend into her dress, her pale features almost ghostly.

“Reine!” Abbey stood up, spilling her brandy over herself, but the Valkyrie barely noticed. Patrons gasped as they recognized the former Ymir idol.

“Reine,” Johan’s expression switched between being awestruck and terrified. In Reine’s hand was her Rangadriver, which she played with idly.

The entire table momentarily lost its voice, a mixture of fear and anger. Tension hung thick in the air until Abbey finally spoke.

“Did you kill the president?” Abbey asked, a challenge in her voice. As usual, the straightforward Valkyrie cut to the core.

“I did,” Reine replied, showing no hint of shame.

“No.” Johan’s breath caught, the poor guy’s world crashing upon him. His lip quivered, eyes wide as saucers.

“We took you in! We trusted you!” Abbey said, getting in her former teammate’s face. Despite the physical difference between the two, Reine showed no hint of fear.

“Reine, why?” Pihu’s voice shook.

“I won’t make any excuses for my actions.” Reine paced around the taller woman before facing Yareli. “I am what I am.”

“And what now?” Yareli said, gripping the table tight from her tension. “You going to attack me right here? In public, again?”

Not good. While Yareli had recovered from her previous fight, Fenrir was still weaponless. Even with Johan assisting her, Yareli still faced a considerable disadvantage—if Johan recovered from his shock, of course. He appeared like a deer caught in headlights, frozen on the spot.

“And why not?” Reine said, wearing a coy smile. “Unlike you, wolf girl, I can’t track by scent. Trying to chase you down has been a royal pain.”

“No.” Abbey didn’t wait for further provocation, throwing a punch toward her former teammate’s face. Despite appearing off guard, Reine proved nimbler than expected. She slipped away from the attack, wearing an amused smirk.

The bartender signaled for the bouncers just out of sight, shouting for peace. Patrons whispered to themselves, speculating on the cause of this altercation. Camera phones pointed toward them, eager to catch what would happen next.

“I will kill you, Fenrir,” Reine said as a fact, not a statement. Then she broke into uproarious laughter. “Whatever it takes, even if it means burning the world to cinders!”

This girl’s insane!

By the time Reine had completed her speech, night had fully descended onto Bifrost. As Yareli prepared her own Rangadriver, a flicker of movement caught her attention. Had she just seen a pale figure slip from an alleyway? Her hackles raised, sensing something was wrong. More movement caught her attention—Yareli peered into the gloom. Something was gathering toward them, trying to surround them.

People—hundreds of them—gathered around the promenade. These creatures, whatever they were, had glowing red eyes that shone like sinister lanterns. Their torn and ragged clothes hid pale skin, the color of polished ivory. Their eyes gleamed with menace, hungry for violence and death. People screamed in terror as the monsters gathered in the hundreds, surrounding their little open bar.

“Boss!” Samuel said, his breath catching as a colossal figure came into view. While Yareli had only seen this face once, she hadn’t forgotten his crumpled form under Dino’s feet. Another familiar face caught Yareli’s attention—Johan gasping in shock. It was Randel, Johan’s late best friend.

“I’ve been busy expanding my powers. Quite the reunion, right?” Reine said. “Have you forgotten? I am Kamen Rider Hel, queen of the dead. You won’t escape, Fenrir. Now, my servants—make the streets run with their blood!”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 29

“I’m tired of waiting. Should I just break inside?” Yareli asked, crossing her arms in impatience. She might not get a better chance to speak with her father alone.

“Your dad’s a real ass. Why bother speaking with him?” Johan didn’t hide his disdain.

“I agree,” Rebecca said. “Your father tried to kill you, Ilma. How can any relationship recover from that? Even my mom isn’t that screwed up!”

“Don’t give up hope. Maybe you could still slap some sense into your old man,” Samuel said, offering an encouraging smile.

“I hope so.” Yareli sagged, falling into a nearby seat.

“I don’t think the situation’s as dire as you’ve pronounced, Yareli,” Gramps said, walking toward them. “Give him time. He’ll come around.”

“There you are. I was afraid we’d lost you.”

“Sorry, my bladder isn’t what it once was,” Gramps replied, chagrined. “Older folk need the restroom more often than not.”

“Sorry I asked.” Still, Yareli considered his advice. Would time help? She desperately wanted to charge into her father’s hospital room and demand he listen to her side of the story. Would he be more understanding if he heard her feelings? Why must this be so complicated?

Thankfully, Detective Anderson walked into the lobby, providing a helpful distraction. “Uncover anything useful?” Rebecca gave the detective a hard, piercing stare.

Disconcerted, Anderson rubbed the nape of his neck. “It’s a crazy story. Hard to say whether I even believe it.”

The detective guided them toward a far hallway, out of range of prying ears. He was divulging sensitive information from his investigation. After confirming the coast was clear, he combed a hand through his thinning hair and finally spoke.

“Remember Surtur? The computer that computed that stock market equation you told me about?” Before Anderson could explain further, a newcomer interrupted him.

“Why are you here?” Despite displaying no emotion, her voice contained an edge of genuine anger.

“ID-01.” If Yareli had real eyes, she’d be narrowing them.

“My name is Ilma Halvorsen,” the robot replied, her voice turning even hotter.

“No, that’s my name!” Yareli approached the distasteful copy, ready for battle. Just seeing the imposter made her sick to her stomach. How dare this fake try to steal her life!

Despite not wearing her Valkyrie armor, ID-01 matched Yareli’s demeanor, eager to continue their earlier fight.

“Girls! Girls!” Johan said, waving his arms frantically. “This is a hospital! It isn’t an appropriate place for a fight!”

Already, the heated confrontation had drawn the hospital staff’s attention. A nurse ran toward them, yelling for them to stop. Furious beyond words, Yareli didn’t even notice the woman. She hated this imposter down to her deepest being.

“I’m warning you! Cut it out, or we’ll escort you from the premises!” The nurse gave Anderson a frosty glare. “You’re an officer of the law. Do something!”

“I’m a homicide detective, not a beat cop!” Anderson wanted no part of this deep-rooted family squabble.

“I’m going to kill you.” Despite being a creature of cold logic and metal, ID-01’s feeling was mutual. “Your very presence distresses Father.”

“Not if I destroy you first.” Even without her armor, she could take this fake.

“Girls!” The nurse turned frantic as the situation escalated further out of control.

“Yeah, please stop!” Johan gave the approaching security guards a nervous glance.

Fury toward her father blazed within her. Yet it also hid an ember of hatred toward herself. Despite her rebellious nature, hadn’t she been a dutiful daughter? Unexpected tears pricked her vision.

With startling speed, ID-01 darted toward her foe, her fist raised to shatter Yareli’s rib cage. Before the thrown fist connected, a violent rumble disrupted the punch. The entire building rattled, and Yareli stumbled into the nurse.

“What the—?” The whole hospital was in utter disarray, with some patients getting tossed to the floor. A poor elderly man had taken a terrible tumble, hurting his fragile hip. Everyone else, however, seemed otherwise unharmed.

The nurse screamed, shock evident in her features. Her finger pointed toward a far window. Yareli turned, curious about what had startled a trained medical professional. Her body stiffened, her heart numb from shock. Bifrost was on fire.

“Impossible.” Johan stared at the ruin and devastation. Rubble and smoke were everywhere, making it difficult to determine the extent of the damage. The heated argument forgotten, the nurse ran toward her duty station. Every staff member prepared for the upcoming rush of patients.

With frantic speed, Yareli sprinted toward the hospital parking lot. She craned her neck, trying to locate the source of the destruction. The annihilation was terrible and total, leaving an ugly gash across Bifrost’s skin. Much to her surprise, ID-01 joined her.

“A Rangadriver did this,” the robot said.

“Reine?” Only she was capable of such wanton destruction. Still, something bothered her. Yareli’s hackles raised, getting a terrible premonition. Instead of answering, ID-01 returned to the hospital and left her alone.

“Thanks,” Yareli said through gritted teeth, cursing the hateable robot. A moment later, Johan joined her.

“Want to investigate?” Johan asked, already gripping his Uhyre key.

“Absolutely!” Yareli nodded, pulling her Rangadriver from a duffel bag. She attached it across her waist, eyes peeled for danger. They hopped across broken pavement, navigating toward the source of the destructive cleave in the earth.

---

“What the hell was that?” Halvorsen said, startled by the sudden ground quake.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Just an earthquake. I’ll see what’s the matter,” the nurse said, trying to reassure her patient. She left as another frantic nurse summoned her.

“Earthquake? Bifrost isn’t located anywhere near the tectonic plates.” Minutes passed, but no one returned to explain the unexpected crisis. Already, the injured were being carted in, staff frantic to save their fragile lives. There was another commotion outside—someone yelling for help.

Moments later, a battered Dino stumbled into the room. Blood oozed from a gash across his forehead. His usually pristine suit had been reduced to rages, burned in some places.“Doctor, thank God you’re okay.”

“What happened to you?” Halvorsen asked, alarmed.

“Sir, you need treatment. Let us help you!” a nurse said, stumbling into the room. No doubt Dino’s injuries had caused a considerable commotion.

“I need to speak to him first,” Dino said, waving the nurse away. “This is too important.”

“Sir!” The nurse didn’t seem in the mood to argue.

“Surtur has a Rangadriver.” Dino’s words stole Halvorsen’s breath. Horrible conclusions came into his head, knowing what destruction a cold, logical AI like ID-00 might cause. “His power was unreal. I was useless against him.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” the nurse said, coaxing the injured man toward a hospital room. “This way. I’m sure the situation isn’t as bad as you believe.”

“Please, Doctor. His power is almost unstoppable!” Before the hospital staff dragged Dino away, he pressed a USB stick into Halvorsen’s palm. “Even the wolf girl can’t fight against that monster. That data should help, I hope. It’s stolen from Simensen.”

Oh God. What a nightmare. Halvorsen stared at what Dino had handed him, curious what kind of research Ophion Industries had copied from Ymir. ID-01 entered the room, her expression grave.

“You overheard?”

“Yes. I’ve seen his power firsthand,” ID-01 said. “Terrible.”

“Help me up,” Halvorsen said, forcing himself free from the bed despite his body’s protests. “I can’t afford to stay here.”

Thankfully, ID-01 didn’t protest and helped her creator out of his room. With the hospital in a fury of activity, no one noticed their escape.

“Fine, you win, old man. I’ll make a new weapon for Fenrir.” What this meant for their relationship, Halvorsen didn’t know. He supposed personal feelings didn’t matter. Against Surtur, Fenrir would be a useful tool. Fate had tied them together, regardless of his protests.

He prayed it’d be enough.

---

With nimble feet, Yareli leaped over the rubble. The devastation was unreal, like a bad dream. She passed a familiar china shop whose glass surface had melted like it’d been wax. She stared in wide-eyed horror at the people inside, frozen like a fly trapped in amber. If Yareli could sleep, she’d slap herself to awaken from this nightmare.

The destruction seemed to continue forever, the smoke oppressive from uncontrollable fires. From a distance, sirens of emergency vehicles blared. What they could do against such senseless carnage, Yareli didn’t know.

“Over here!” Johan said, pointing toward a collapsed roof. The building had been a simple mom-and-pop convenience store before the mayhem. “I hear people under here.”

“Henshin!” The civilians helping the survivors gasped in surprise as the bike girl transformed into strange wolf armor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get this roof off.” Yareli grabbed the roof’s edge, getting a tight grip. Grunting with effort, she flung it off. It shattered in a cloud of dust as it smashed against the nearby street. People clapped and cheered in amazement, watching as the masked hero tossed aside a broken rooftop like it was Styrofoam.

“Gamsahapnida,” an elderly Asian woman said, grasping Yareli’s armored hand and squeezing it. The other, a scrappy teenager Yareli presumed was her grandson, nodded his thanks. Besides some bruises, they seemed otherwise unharmed. They’d been lucky.

The store owner hadn’t been so fortunate. Blood seeped from beneath the collapsed roof, crushing his upper torso. Yareli’s heart grieved for the poor man. As they followed the destruction’s source, they aided survivors however they could. People watched them, amazed by their selfless heroics. Camera phones caught everything as they dug out a man half-buried in rubble.

“Great, so much for secrecy.” Still, it eased Yareli’s troubled and guilty heart. Too many people had already died—some because of her. While it had been self-defense, that didn’t make the situation any less horrible.

Johan helped in his human form. His boar form would only scare people senseless. EMTs finally arrived, and they accepted their help with gratitude. Yareli and Johan weren’t the only ones helping. Ordinary folk also rushed to offer assistance. If they weren’t helping locate survivors, they cleaned the streets. It made navigating the cluttered, half-destroyed roads much easier for emergency services. United under a single cause, the courage, and compassion of Bifrost’s citizenry awed Yareli.

“Wolf girl, over here!” an EMT said, guiding them toward a steel beam crushing a middle-aged man’s chest.

“I’m pulling it off. Get ready.” The steel beam squealed as it bent under Fenrir’s considerable strength. Moments later, the man was breathing easier. The EMTs eyed her with respect, gladdened by her unexpected assistance. Despite losing a tremendous amount of blood, the poor man would survive. After an hour of offering help, they arrived at the wave of destruction’s source—a burned-out lab.

“No bomb did this. A Rangadriver caused such wholesale destruction?” Yareli thought, her eyes tracing the scar in the earth caused by the destructive wave. While obscured by smoke, the ugly red line of destruction stretched at least a kilometer.

“Well met, Fenrir,” a newcomer said. Yareli sighed, turning to find Simensen standing behind her. From how he favored one leg, he appeared injured.

“This lab is yours, isn’t it?” Yareli said, putting together the dots. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.” Did she detect a hint of agitation? “If you’re finished helping the emergency services, follow me. We have much to discuss.”

“Fine.” While Yareli wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, Ophion Industries’ president was their only lead. Much to her shock, the man had a haunted look behind his calm façade.

“We found him, sir.” Simensen’s bodyguard ran toward them. Soot and grime covered the large man’s usually pristine suit. “He’s at a nearby coffee shop causing a commotion. He’s accessing a public computer.”

“Good. Keep your distance,” Simensen replied. “He can’t suspect he’s being followed.”

“We’ll handle this,” Johan said, readying his Uhyre Key. “I know the place.”

“No!” The sudden cry of alarm shook Yareli in place. Simensen seemed rattled, which frightened Yareli more than she’d expected. “You’d only go to your deaths. His power is unreal.”

“Oh?” Had Jörmungandr lost? How was that possible?

“He’s typing something on a laptop,” Simensen’s bodyguard said after tapping an earpiece.

“He’s playing with some computer? What? He’s checking his email?” Simensen said. “Well, whatever. Leave him be and just follow. If he’s stopped destroying things, that provides us time to consider our next move.”

“You talk like we’re allies.” Yareli still hadn’t forgotten how he’d made the Jotnar spy on her.

“Trust me, Ilma,” Simensen’s voice was uncharacteristically sincere. “Our foe is the enemy of all life.”

---

The coffee shop was lively as Surtur entered, terrified by the explosion he’d caused. Patrons clambered toward the windows, gaping at the scene unfolding before them. People chattered amongst themselves, frightened and theorizing what had caused the explosion. While some patrons ran to assist, most stayed put. Emergency vehicles sped toward the scene, their sirens drowning out any hushed mutterings.

“It has to be a terrorist attack,” one person said.

“No, it must be the Niflhel again!” another said. “Damn bastards aren’t satisfied with the damage they’ve already caused. The news said some evaded capture!”

“Something’s not right here,” yet another added. “Bifrost’s been suffering one crisis after another. Could this be the end?”

“What, like Ragnarök?” A patron rolled their eyes. “Something bad happens, and it’s suddenly the end of the world!”

“I’m serious! I have a bad feeling!”

“Sure.”

Surtur walked past, ignoring the people and their meaningless gossip in search of his quarry. He’d returned his sunglasses to his face, hiding his inhuman eyes. Scaring people would only needlessly impede his objective. His torn jacket earned him some odd looks, however.

“Damn.” A person huddling over a computer muttered to himself. He uttered curses, rubbing his bald scalp as he read about the current development of the sudden explosion. Faint, but Surtur heard the man whispering a woman’s name. Tumultuous emotions distorted the man’s features, grieved by a terrible loss. Surtur cared little about that—the open laptop caught his attention instead. The café’s internet services were just what he required.

“Hey, what are you—?” The man’s protests died as Surtur slammed his head against the metal table so quickly that the human barely had time to register the attack. Surtur dropped the limp man back to the table, uncaring if he still lived. Blood pooled under the laptop as crimson oozed from one ear. 

“What the?!” The neighbor’s eyes widened in utter shock, unable to tear his gaze from the horrible, bloody scene. “Help! Someone call an ambulance! The police!” The neighbor’s cries caught the other coffee shop patrons’ attention. A person screamed in abject terror.

While a run-of-the-mill and inexpensive computer, it’d work for his purposes. Surtur’s fingers blurred as he typed, ignoring the frightened cries around him.

“Excellent.” The simple .txt file contained the stock market prediction algorithm. Before his awakening, Ymir had tasked Surtur to create it. Its potential was world-changing and lucrative. A person with this equation could earn unparalleled wealth. They’d be unstoppable in the financial world.

“Done.” He’d uploaded the equation to the finance board on Scabbit.

Already, he’d attracted some comments—people wondering if it was a hoax. Wanting to spread his fire further, he uploaded the equation to other special-interest boards.

Most commenters posted about how the equation was obviously bogus. Surtur didn’t mind, knowing someone would realize its worth soon enough. Their greed or curiosity would drive them—a common human flaw. The sparks had ignited the dry wood. Soon, the entire world would become engulfed in a blazing inferno.

[jonathanvik]

Krisis - Chapter 16

“Okay, we’ll be there soon,” Chief Rolf said, a pleased smile on his face. After days of waiting, his prey had finally gotten trapped.

Halkken preened, pleased he could help. “We’ll keep them busy. But hurry, they’re putting up a tougher fight than I expected.” He ducked lower behind the storage crate as stray laser bolts zipped past.

“Oh, dear.” Halkken watched as the shack Director Famus used as a headquarters burst into flames. “And you better bring the fire department.”

“Huh? What?”

“No time, Chief. Duty calls!” Halkken hung up the line and readied his service weapon. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but it seemed like Rocke had lit Director Famus’s shack on fire in some vain attempt to destroy Phú. What a foolish move. Fire couldn’t hurt an AI, but criminals often did stupid things.

“Oh, shoot!” He ducked as a blonde woman appeared, pistol in her hand. 

Halkken watched as she coldly dispatched a guard with a bolt to the temple, leaving little behind beyond a bloody, scorched mess. She ambushed the forces assaulting Rocke’s resistance and shattered them. Whoever this woman was, she was a trained, cold-hearted killer. Halkken watched in horrified awe as the situation turned against them.

“Now what?” Halkken was under no illusions that he could fight Rocke’s group alone, even if he could ambush them. Trying to stall them might only get him killed. Before he could recontact his chief, Halkken gaped in amazement as the blonde woman leaped into a burning building—presumably to save Rocke. Her complete lack of hesitation in throwing herself into danger was quite the turn-on. From the fervor she’d shown to save Rocke, it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.

“Some men have all the luck!” Halkken complained, darting from cover to cover. It didn’t matter. She was a criminal. He’d do his duty. He jerked back as a bolt whizzed past his head.

“You’re not going anywhere!” a fierce-looking Demon woman yelled, firing another volley at Halkken’s head. He ducked aside, using a cage as cover. His attacker cursed, not wanting to risk hurting her Ottomon brethren within it.

“That won’t save you!” From the hatred in the Demon woman’s voice, she wanted him dead.

“You know, this would be love if you weren’t trying to kill me,” Halkken replied.

“What?” the Demon woman said, baffled.

“I mean it.” Halkken gave his best disarming smile.

“You’re Uppie filth! It’s never happening!” the Demon woman spat.

“I suppose a man can dream.” Though what now? Getting shot to death by the woman of his dreams wasn’t the ideal situation.

To make matters worse, the others were freeing the Demon prisoners. He cursed as the invaders used his electronic key to disable the locks on the cages and led his captives into a ready transport. They helped the wounded first, then the women and children. The men took whatever ready weapon was available and headed in his direction. Oh dear, they looked eager for payback on a poor, hardworking police officer. Charm wouldn’t help him in this situation, and the Demon woman gloated at his predicament.

If he broke cover, he’d get shot down by the lovely Demon woman. If he stayed, the mob would grab him, and it wouldn’t end well.

He looked down at his weapon and sighed. “This won’t help much.” He raised his voice. “If I surrender, will you refrain from harming me? I’m only a humble civil servant.”

Throw aside your weapon, and we’ll only tie you up,” the Demon woman’s voice dripped with scorn. “Try anything funny, and you’re dead.” She wasn’t mincing words, only speaking the facts of the situation.

“I hope he does!” a man said, brandishing a broken bar from a cage. His grin wasn’t particularly friendly, making it unclear if he’d follow the agreement. Other Ottomon threw scorn in his direction, eager for violence even if he came peacefully. 

“Calm yourselves,” the prophet said, putting a hand on the burly man. “He’s only doing his job. Besides, there’s been enough bloodshed. Officer, if you do as Kallane says, no one will come to harm. I promise you, by the Sovereign.”

“Kallane? What a pretty name,” Halkken said as he dropped and kicked his weapon aside. He raised his hands for everyone to see.

“Huh?” Kallane said, blushing somewhat. It seemed clear she wasn’t used to compliments like that. “Shut up. Hold your hands over your head!”

“I hope Rocke is okay,” Matthias said. “I saw Jafia chase after him into that burning building.”

“What?!” Kallane recoiled in shock. She’d been so busy with Halkken, she hadn’t noticed the other parts of the battlefield. Her features hardened. “I’m going after them.”

Brave and loyal, too? Halkken found himself impressed. Kallane screamed in fright as a guard robot appeared from nowhere and swung an electrical prod in her direction. She ducked, just avoiding the shock of her life.

“Where did that come from?” Kallane said, backing away. Her eyes widened as the guard robots she’d assumed dormant came to life. Demon’s screamed as their prods sparked, ready to herd them back into their cells in the most painful way possible.

“You!” Kallane sent Halkken a scathing glare.

“It wasn’t me,” Halkken replied.

“I’d get back into your cells if I were you, Demon scum,” Phú’s voice said over the loudspeakers. “Or my metal minions will shock you to death! You’ll writhe like worms until your heart stops!”

“Oh, she got the guard control system online again,” Halkken said, impressed.

“Well, too bad!” Halkken gasped as Kallane suddenly grabbed him by the throat and pressed her weapon against his temple. “Let us leave, or the cop gets it!”

“Nice move,” Halkken said, impressed. “That was a quick bit of hostage-taking!”

“Are you even taking this seriously?” Kallane said, exasperated. He was, but she deserved the compliment.

“Nah, shoot him. I don’t care,” Phú replied. “He’s useless to the force, anyway.”

“What?” Halkken said, wounded. She’d abandoned him, just like that?

“You’re kidding?” Kallane replied, just as stunned by the betrayal.

“Hey, stay still! I’m trying to kill you!” Phú said before returning to them. “Pretty sure. I don’t negotiate with terrorists, anyway. Shock them all, my pretties!” She gave a cruel, mocking laugh.

Halkken’s heart raced as the guard robots approached them, eager for violence.

From her position above him, Kallane glared at him. “This is all your fault! Why can’t you be a better hostage?”

“I wish I knew.” Halkken’s heart hurt. After their time together, Phú had turned on him? But now what? If they didn’t do something fast, they’d both die.

A shock prod zipped at them with incredible speed, his once-captor staring helplessly in wide-eyed shock. She gasped as Halkken tripped her. Kallane collapsed, just avoiding getting shocked. Together, they landed in a heap, the Demon woman groaning in pain.

“What gives?!” Kallane said, glaring at him.

“Move!” Halkken pushed her away as the robot threw a follow-up strike.

The Demon woman uttered a blistering curse and fired her weapon at the robot at point-blank range. The shots only dinged its carapace, leaving some scorch marks, but it provided Halkken the distraction he needed. Grabbing a rock from the ground, he slammed it hard against its eyestalk. While the impact only caused a minor dent, the robot flailed around blind. Halkken staggered back as a wild blow clipped him across the head. He blinked, dazed.

Satisfied it had found a target, the robot focused its attention on him as it guessed his location. It raised a metal fist to crush his skull and finish the job—Halkken, too stunned to evade.

But it never got the chance, as Kallane shot the robot’s eyestalk point-blank with her weapon. The appendage exploded, and the robot slumped as its systems failed.

“Thanks,” Halkken said, struggling to his feet. He winced as he touched his temple, his fingers coming away bloody. 

“Don’t get used to it,” Kallane replied. “I only helped you because I felt sorry for you. How did you know that’d work?”

“Those old units’ eye sensors are always unreliable. They always seem to get unaligned.” Halkken surveyed the scene—the utter pandemonium around him.

People were fleeing the camp, trampling over each other in their bid to escape the deadly, rampaging robots. Others were helping Rocke’s group subdue their attackers. The Demon forces, though less powerful individually, outnumbered the robots. After the indignities they’d suffered, they wanted payback. It didn’t matter if they were sleep-deprived and malnourished—they attacked in droves, not caring how many got hurt. If one of their number got shocked, ten replaced them. 

It terrified Halkken how utterly the Demons destroyed their robot oppressors. When they realized the eyestalks were their weakness, the camp’s prisoners systematically tore them apart. It wasn’t long before the machines got reduced to heaps of useless metal. Still, time was pressing. As the men kept the robots distracted, Matthias guided the women, children, and injured into the transport.

“I’d scram if I were you,” Kallane said before running off to help the nearest group with a guard robot. It left Halkken unsure of what he should do.

“I should arrest them, but…” Kallane had saved Halkken’s life. Besides, that the treatment of the Demons in Camp F had bothered him.

“What the heck?” It was his job to protect the people. Phú had gone out of control. “Wait for me!”

---

Was this it? Was this where she died? Around her, the flames licked at Jafia, their smothering smoke choking her to death. Her breaths were shallow, as oxygen had a more difficult time entering her lungs. Her thoughts were sluggish as she struggled to consider her next move. 

Rocke was already unconscious, passed out from smoke inhalation. In front of her stood the AI-controlled robot, blocking their only chance of escape. Another stood in the gap between a broken wall, making that path impossible too. 

Jafia was furious with herself. She’d forgotten the mission and needlessly risked her life to save someone who was a citizen of her enemy. A spy should know better. Still, Jafia wasn’t sure whether she regretted her action. Rocke was important to her, she realized. And Jafia’s pride wouldn’t shame her for this act of the heart. Friendship, love? It didn’t matter.

“Quit wasting our time and kill us already, you demented AI.” Jafia jutted out her chin. If she were to die, it wouldn’t be as a helpless victim. Her legs wobbled as her brain asphyxiated, but she stood firm.

“You’re no fun!” the AI whined. “Stop making this not fun! Oh well! You’ve convinced me! Smoke inhalation is too dull a way to kill you! I’ll crush your skulls instead! Starting with the traitor!”

Jafia’s eyes widened in alarm as the other robot, by the broken wall, sprang to life at incredible speed. It lifted a fist, swinging it down to crush the helpless Rocke. Her body moved on its own, not caring what happened to it.

“Gah!” Jafia howled in pain as a metal fist broke bone. She collapsed next to Rocke. Every breath hurt as bones shifted where they shouldn’t.

“Are you stupid?” the AI said, amused. “You just rushed your own death to save someone already doomed? You humans.”

Jafia barely heard these words through her pain. The flames crept alarmingly close, yet Jafia wasn’t afraid. Instead, she stretched out a hand and grasped Rocke’s. This simple action seemed to stretch her remaining strength, but it was worth it. She stared into his sleeping face, wishing she’d spoken with him more—told him how much he meant to her. But if they died together, she wouldn’t complain. Besides, Vanderfall didn’t need her to destroy this wretched country. For Rocke’s sake, she hoped it suffered the Sovereign’s full wrath.

It was an odd final thought, but she clung to it. She gripped Rocke’s hand tightly. She promised the Sovereign that if there was any way to save Rocke, she’d pay any price.

“Please, Sovereign. If you can save him, please do so,” she whispered, her voice a coughing rasp.

“What? I can’t hear you,” the AI said, amused. “Final sweet nothings to your dead boyfriend? How touching!”

“I really wish she’d shut up,” Jafia thought acidly. She still had the stick with her anti-AI program in her pocket. If only she could insert it into the robot’s port, then the AI wouldn’t be laughing. 

“I think I hear something!” a familiar voice said. “Rocke, are you still in there?”

“Matthias?” But her voice came out in a barely audible choke.

“What’s this guard robot doing just standing here?” another familiar voice said. It was her fellow Vanderfall spy. “Whoa!”

“Back off. You’re ruining all the fun!” The other guard robot took a wild swing, which Rojan dodged. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Jafia through the smoke.

“Jafia? Hey, there’s someone still in here! After it!” Rojan shouted.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” the AI demanded, watching in shock as dozens of Ottomon, armed with rocks and metal bars, assaulted the robot. With distressing efficiency, they disabled it.

While his Ottomon friends took care of the guard robot, the prophet rushed past into the burning hut. He coughed but remained firm on his feet. Was he insane? 

“Rocke’s here too?” Matthias said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to you soon.”

“You old fool, the building might collapse at any second!” Ottomon cried out in warning, but the prophet rushed forward, heedless of the danger.

“What an idiot,” the AI muttered, seeming to preen at the idea of her next victim. “You’re rushing to your doom.”

“Maybe.” Despite the flames licking around him, Matthias remained totally calm, as if the fire couldn’t even hurt him. “The Sovereign has a future purpose for that lad. So I can’t allow him to die—not just yet.”

“What?” the AI said, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Oh! You’re that AI from before,” Matthias said, halting as the AI-controlled robot approached.

“That’s right. And I’m finishing what I started!” The AI swung a wild blow, which the older man barely dodged.

“I have to do something,” Jafia thought. With Matthias’s advanced years, he’d only last a few seconds at best against the AI-controlled robot. Her eyes widened as she spotted a port at the base of the robot’s neck.

She needed to get to him. But such a distance seemed like an eternity with her battered body. “It doesn’t matter. I’m getting over there.” Jafia refused to let those UOP dogs win. Determination fueled her limbs as she managed to haul herself to a standing position.

Oddly, the flames seemed to sway away from her like she was contagious. Even the smoke and heat weren’t that bad. It was almost as if the blaze wouldn’t even hurt her if she threw herself into it. She dismissed the idea as ridiculous and focused on the task at hand. Sweat dripped down their only salvation as she gripped it tightly.

“Gah!” Matthias howled in pain as the AI hurled him outside. As he landed with a painful thud, Jafia took her chance.

“Don’t think I don’t see you!” The AI whirled in her direction, but Jafia was already moving. The robot recoiled when it spotted what was in her hand, temporary panic seeping in. With uncoordinated movements, it tried slapping Jafia aside—but a bolt struck it from behind, staggering it.

“Halkken? You traitor!” The eyestalk widened in panic. It could transfer to another body, but Jafia wouldn’t give it a chance. Her hands blurred as they reached the socket. She winced as her body struck the hot metal of the robot’s surface, but she pushed past the pain.

A shock prod moved to stun Jafia into unconsciousness, but a bolt knocked it off course, providing the opening she needed.

“No! You can’t!” the AI screamed as the stick snapped into its port. Jafia howled in pain as she knocked it in, while the metal monster flailed. 

“Hurry, grab them both!” Matthias said. A burly Ottomon dashed into the burning building and threw Jafia over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes in one swift movement. She winced where the guard robot’s hot metal body had burned her. Despite being bedraggled from weeks in Camp F, the bear-like man bore the strength of six men. With extreme tenderness, he picked up Rocke and carried him in a fireman’s carry as he rushed to safety.

“I… I… no. This can’t…” The AI’s voice faded as Jafia’s program wiped the robot’s hard drive clean. Her code disabled the robot’s transmitter, leaving the AI nowhere to flee. “B-beeee—”

“Sorry, Phú,” the cop said, lowering his weapon. So he’d been the one to help Jafia? “But you broke your purpose. You’re meant to protect and serve. Your programming’s not right.”

“Y-Ooouuuuu basssssssssss, haakkekk…” Its voice cracked before the robot went limp. To punctuate the AI’s death, the building chose that moment to collapse. How had it lasted that long?

“Good work, Dallas,” the prophet said, relieved. Jafia coughed, her throat feeling like ash. But she smiled—the fresh air tasted like ambrosia to her.

“We need to get Rocke medical attention!” Kallane said, alarmed.

“No time. We need to flee now!” Rojan said. In his hand, he held a small piece of metal, but he hid it in his coat pocket. “We’ll do what we can for him once we get to safety.”

“Uncle Hooven, get the hell over here!” Kallane shouted, her temper peaked. “You can help Rocke while we’re in transit!” But no answer came. “You have got to be kidding me! We don’t have time for this!”

While they worked out the specifics of getting everyone into the transport vehicles, Jafia just sat and rested on one of the transport’s front seats. Rocke’s well-being preoccupied her dozing thoughts. Nothing would be worth anything if he died.

Soon the transport was moving, and Jafia jerked awake. She blinked, looking around in confusion.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Rojan said. He handed her a face mask and gestured for her to put it on. “We found it in one of the transport’s first aid kits. It should help you breathe easier.”

Jafia accepted the mask, sighing in relief as her breaths no longer felt so labored. With her fractured ribs, every breath was a torment, but she’d live. “Did you get what you were after?”

Her fellow spy nodded and revealed a key in his hand. “Took it from the ex-warden Famus. He’s tied up in the back, ready to be interrogated by certain friends of ours.”

This earned a smile from Jafia. Finally, that monster would face justice for his crimes. “And the key?”

“To a safe deposit box. Apparently, it has a lot of juicy little blackmail and other fun gossip we can use. Famus had a lot of dirt on his peers.”

“That’s good. Is Rocke…”

“He’s fine,” Rojan said with a smile. “Suffered some serious smoke inhalation, but he’ll live.”

“Thank the Sovereign!” Jafia said, leaning back in her chair. She tensed as she heard sirens, but they sounded distant to her ears. Had they made a clean escape?

“Good work, Jafia. Though…” Rojan hesitated. “I might have to tell our friends you’re in no shape for tomorrow.”

“No. I’m doing it.” Jafia’s face hardened. “Famus got his. So will Sunbearer.”

“You’re the boss,” Rojan said after a moment of silence. “Don’t do anything stupid. Rocke will be disappointed if you die.”

“Come on. He’s only an UOP dog.” But Jafia’s words sounded false even to her own ears.

“Sure,” Rojan said, smiling.

“Just drive.” Jafia hid a smile and closed her eyes. She needed her strength for the next mission. She aimed to transform UOP, creating a nation worthy of Rocke’s admiration. For this purpose, scum like Sunbearer needed to die.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 28

“Is this it?” Dino asked, peering through their binoculars. “Our secret lab under the Bifrost docks was much nicer than this. This ratty dump created a Rangadriver?”

“Does it matter?” Palmer replied, his voice tinged with impatience. “Do you see any sign that someone has broken into it?”

The main research lab for Simensen stood out on the outskirts of Bifrost near the great bridge. While an improvement over downtown, most buildings were still run-down and defaced with graffiti. The lab occupied a modest multistory building converted from an apartment complex. Despite its humble appearance, state-of-the-art modern security systems protected the structure. Security guards milled about, watching the place. From the guard’s bored expression, trouble had yet to arrive at the building.

“Everything seems fine.” Subtlety wasn’t Surtur’s style. Dino watched a researcher attach an Uhyre key to some device before wandering from view.

The calm scene made Dino question his instincts about Surtur attacking the place. Still, he wanted to sneak inside and perform some espionage. While better guarded than he’d expected, it only made the situation more fun. Night seemed his best bet if Surtur never showed his fake imitation face.

Dino lay back, knowing he could afford to be patient. Their target would show himself, eventually. If not here, somewhere else—and he’d be ready. He yawned and played around the glove box, searching for an energy bar. A frown creased his face when Dino realized they were out of chocolate ones.

“There’s a C-store two blocks away.” Dino gave his compatriot a couple of euros. “Get me some chocolate energy bars. You can keep the change.”

“I’m not your intern, Rizzo,” Palmer said, annoyed, but he relented and left.

While he waited in their stakeout vehicle, movement caught Dino’s attention. A fancy limousine parked at the front entrance. A burly man rivaling Doctor Halvorsen’s build opened the car door for a familiar face. Dino’s hackles rose as Simensen left his vehicle and entered the laboratory. In Ophion Industries’ president’s right hand was a briefcase marked with a snake. It must be his Rangadriver.

“This is an interesting development.” This day just got better. Perhaps he could avenge himself on Simensen for nearly killing him. True, Fenrir had beaten him before, but Dino enjoyed trading blows with her—unlike this slimeball. Time to do some poking about. Maybe their databanks had something Doctor Halvorsen could use?

---

“Well?” Simensen asked his lead scientist, McGuire.

“The new laser cannon is coming along nicely, sir.” The scientist led Simensen and his bodyguard toward the weapon testing area. The lab was a buzz with activity as various experiments tested the capabilities of their various projects. They watched as a knife with a glowing edge melted a steel plate into molten slag. One intern’s experimental gauntlets allowed him to fold a steel beam like a pretzel. The files Johan had stolen from the little pup’s Rangadriver were coming in useful indeed.

“Impressive. But will the final version match the specifications I requested?” Various world powers already showed considerable interest in the weapon’s capabilities. Simensen wanted a working prototype completed in three months. With Ymir dying, Ophion Industries was eager to fill its gap in technological development. And unlike Wilson’s company, they had no megalomaniacal greed for power.

Not that he didn’t relish the power the belt offered him. It screamed to be summoned to his waist and unleash its might on some unsuspecting foe. Simensen found himself unable to part with it, carrying it close wherever he went. Perhaps he’d spar with James once business had concluded.

The 3.0 version of the prototype laser weapon was even more ambitious in scope and power. The intern clutching the device inserted an Uhyre key emblazoned with the symbol of a salamander into a slot in the base. A Vietnam-era tank rolled into the testing area. The intern took aim, fired, and flew off his feet from the sheer ferocity of the weapon’s power. When the intern stumbled to his feet, little more than a bubbling pool of steel remained of the demonstration.

“We’re still optimizing its design for easy mass production, but we’re pleased with the results,” McGuire said, puffing out his chest.

“Fine work. Your efforts are most appreciated.” Its weight and kickback were considerable, however. In the field, it’d be impractical without a powered suit. Thanks to Fenrir’s Rangadriver, they’d have the means to mass-produce such a device.

“Oh, Wilson. You patented nothing about your wonder device, did you? What a pity,” Simensen thought. That was the problem with secret projects. With Ymir in such political and legal hot water, they wouldn’t have the time or money to challenge Ophion Industries’ claim to this technology. While an undeniable genius, Wilson was sadly misguided in his priorities.

The change in his bodyguard’s posture caught Simensen’s attention—stiffening as he turned and spoke into his earpiece.

“Is there a problem, James?” Simensen asked.

“Security is picking up an intruder,” the bodyguard replied, guiding his boss toward a back exit. Rangadriver or not, James vowed to protect his charge. Before Simensen could offer any protest, a far wall exploded. Simensen coughed and wheezed as choking dust and smoke filled the laboratory.

Dust stung Simensen’s eyes as he peered through the cloud. He stood tall, refusing to be cowed by some intruder. Despite his bodyguard’s protests, Simensen already held his Uhyre key ready.

An imposing figure walked through the shattered drywall, standing two meters tall. A leather jacket covered rippling muscles exposed by a flap in the coat. Dark shades covered the intruder’s eyes, but the face was unmistakable.

“Wilson?” Simensen asked, crossing his arms. “What is the meaning of this?”

There’d been plenty of wild rumors about the president of Ymir’s possible demise, but it appeared they’d been unfounded. Still, it surprised Simensen that Wilson would attack his company so openly. He’d assumed it’d be the wolf girl out for some mischief. Had he come to steal his rival’s company secrets for himself? Unlike Ymir, Ophion Industries had patented all their technology and would prove so in court.

Much to Simensen’s confusion, Wilson’s gaze passed across Ophion Industries’ secret projects and focused on him—specifically, his Rangadriver.

Without a word, Wilson stomped toward him. Security guards rushed into the room, guns raised. They ordered Wilson to freeze, but the Ymir president ignored them. Only his goal seemed to matter to him.

“What is this? Retaliation for what happened at Doctor Halvorsen’s manor?” An unexpected pit of dread formed in Simensen’s stomach, making him wonder about the wisdom of ignoring his bodyguard’s advice to flee to safety.

“No, this is my domain. I flee from no man,” Simensen thought.

“Cheeky, putting your hand into a snake’s nest.” Simensen smirked, eager for battle. “Just pray you don’t get bitten, Wilson. Henshin!”

Again, Wilson seemed unbothered by this development, not even activating his own Uhyre key. Simensen hadn’t noticed it before, but the bigger man wasn’t wearing his Angra Armlet. Wilson had something strapped to his back, but Simensen couldn’t determine its purpose from this angle.

Has he lost his senses? Not wanting to attack an unarmed man, Simensen gestured a clawed hand to his guard to apprehend the intruder.

“No, don’t let him touch you!” a red-headed, rough-looking man with an eye patch said, stopping the guards flat before touching the intruder.

“Dino Rizzo?” Simensen recognized the man from Halvorsen’s manor. Was he here to retrieve his lost, addled president? How had he gotten past their security?

But the guards didn’t heed the man’s word. The largest of the lab’s guards grabbed Wilson’s arm, ready to throw him into a restraining armlock. For years to come, the scream would haunt Simensen’s nightmares.

Unbothered by flames, Wilson pushed past another guard. Despite weighing well over a hundred kilos, Surtur tossed the burly security guard aside like a small child. Almost nothing remained as his body struck the wall, setting some stray papers on fire. Wilson continued his march toward Simensen, who took an involuntary step back.

Guards opened fire, but the bullets bounced off Wilson’s skin like nothing. What the hell was this creature?

“Dammit! Terrorize!” Dino inserted his Uhyre key, changing into his monstrous bear form.

The transformed creature charged, grabbing a nearby table and hurling it toward his mad boss. With inhuman speed, Wilson twisted his body away from the projectile. A table leg knocked off his sunglasses, revealing smoldering, inhuman orange eyes.

“That isn’t President Wilson.” Dino circled their foe, wary to even approach. “That’s Surtur, an AI based on the president!”

Another Ymir screw-up run amok. Simensen’s expression hardened, withdrawing his blade, purple energy gathering around its tip. “Then you won’t mind if I trash this creature. Everyone, get to safety. I’ll handle this. Even you, James.”

After a reluctant second, James nodded, guiding the scientists and remaining guards toward a far door. Soon, only the three warriors remained, though Simensen figured his loyal bodyguard was hanging around somewhere close.

An AI? As Simensen circled his opponent, considering the implications of such a statement. How limited was his intelligence? He supposed it didn’t matter. Despite not being organic, Jörmungandr’s poison would still destroy the creature from within.

Like a predator waiting in ambush, Simensen watched Dino engage their opponent, ready for a moment of vulnerability.

To his credit, the Ymir henchman proved a more capable warrior than Simensen had expected. Ice shredded valuable equipment as the bear monster slashed toward his opponent. While an agile foe, the Fake Wilson couldn’t keep up with the onslaught. Simensen’s breath caught as ice shards tore holes in Surtur’s jacket, revealing metal and circuitry beneath. Seconds later, the wound sealed itself like it hadn’t existed.

Nanotech? Never mind, Jörmungandr’s poison would counter such an ability. He watched as Surtur used Dino’s speed and power against him, a carefully timed judo throw hurling the Ymir henchman through a wall. The Midgard Serpent saw his moment. Despite attacking what Simensen perceived as a blind spot, Surtur slipped aside.

Unperturbed by the failed attack, the Midgard Serpent attacked using his superior speed. Steel struck against steel as Surtur used the item on his back to block the attack. Much to Simensen’s astonishment, it was a Rangadriver. It appeared unfinished, with its innards still exposed.

“Look out, you fool!” Dino said, breaking Simensen’s momentary surprise. Fingers slipped past Jörmungandr’s Rangadriver as Surtur dove toward it. Cursing his sloppiness, Simensen slashed and feinted, hoping to catch his opponent unaware.

Despite his speed, Simensen was unable to land a single blow. With frightening precision, Surtur slipped around his attacks, each as his movement became more predictable to the machine creature.

Prediction algorithm? Without a word passing between the pair of enhanced humans, they attacked at opposite angles. Their combined efforts would be enough to overwhelm the creature’s learning algorithm. Spikes of ice shot from Dino’s claws. Not playing around, either, Simensen withdrew his Uhyre key and reinserted it into its slot.

“Venom Strike!” A wave of purple energy slashed toward Surtur while ice bombarded him from behind. Surtur slipped back, ice spikes impaling deep inside Surtur’s back and torso as he just avoided the Midgard Serpent’s signature attack. He’d judged Dino’s attacks the least damaging of the two. The machine creature staggered back, stunned. Heedless of the danger, Jörmungandr lunged forward for a killing strike.

Before Simensen could deliver the coup d’état, a hand grabbed Jörmungandr’s arm, holding it in place. The blade stopped mere millimeters from Surtur’s chest. Simensen cursed, realizing the machine creature had purposely faked weakness to lure him close. Its grip was like iron—immovable. Surtur’s inhuman, blazing eyes stared into Simensen’s helmet visor, showing no emotion. Yet, he sensed triumph in the creature’s body language.

A hand dove toward Simensen, who struggled to wrench free of his bond before Surtur burned him alive. The grip broke, Simensen slipping away unharmed. But killing—or even hurting—him hadn’t been Surtur’s intention.

A hand touched against Jörmungandr’s Rangadriver, grasping it with Surtur’s enormous hand. Instead of destroying it as expected, the Fake Wilson’s eyes glowed brighter. The contract broke, and Simensen escaped Surtur’s range.

“Information acquired,” Surtur said in an odd, metallic version of Mark Wilson’s voice. “And now, it’s complete.” He placed a hand against his incomplete Rangadriver, and its gem glowed with a fiery light. Simensen cursed, realizing that the machine creature was fixing the device from the inside with his nanomachines. The casing reformed itself, developing a metallic red sheen. The sword guard extended outward, growing fire-like spikes that glowed orange.

Cursing louder, Simensen charged, but Surtur was already several steps ahead. He dodged under a clumsy sword thrust, scooping a discarded Uhyre key from the broken remains of a table. Its emblem was blank, not yet encoded with any data.

Surtur extended his Uhyre key, and the blank spot on its casing glowed with orange light. When it faded, a flame symbol replaced the empty slot. Surtur entered a battle pose and inserted his Uhyre key into his newly minted Rangadriver. “Henshin!”

Searing pain struck Simensen’s vision as Surtur’s body blazed with intense light, blinding in its intensity. Charcoal-colored armor appeared around his body, fully plated with cracks exposing what seemed like molten lava beneath. An inhuman helm covered his face, with features that hid almost everything except Surtur’s glowing orange eyes. Two long spear-like projections adorned his helmet, curling up like ram’s horns.

“Now, I have the power to fulfill my purpose: Ragnarök.” The tile beneath Surtur’s armored boots melted under his touch. Paper and other flammables caught aflame as he passed. The room became a furnace whose heat choked Simensen even under his armor’s protection. “This world and everything within it will burn until only ash remains. So says I, Kamen Rider Surtur, the land’s end.”

“Never!” Roaring in defiance, ice gathered around Dino’s paws, lashing out with razor-sharp claws of ice.

With almost comical ease, the ice claws shattered against Surtur’s armor. Dino recoiled in pain as they bounced off Surtur’s impossibly hard exterior. Fear entered the normally cocksure Ymir henchman, horrified his attack had been less than useless. He howled in agony as a far wall exploded in chunks of drywall as Dino crashed through it.

“Remarkable,” the Fake Wilson said, studying his flexing fingers.

“Bastard. Do you know how much this laboratory costs?” Terror gripped a chokehold on his heart, fighting against the instinct to flee. But he remained firm, reinserting his key into his Rangadriver. “Venom Strike!”

Not waiting for his special attack to hit, Simensen charged forward at full force. With speed that belied his massive frame, Surtur slipped around the incoming wave of energy and intercepted Jörmungandr’s fang-shaped sword with his own.

Metal clashed as Simensen slashed toward his foe, trying to overwhelm the creature. Yet, it proved fruitless, as Surtur blocked each blow with almost comical ease. Pain lanced through Simensen’s chest as a sudden punch staggered him. The armored monstrosity faced them with both blade and fist, pummeling Simensen senseless. He tried fighting back, but it was like fighting a living flame. Surtur danced around every single counterattack, impossible to touch. A sudden headbutt sent the Midgard Serpent to his knees.

“My turn.” Surtur withdrew his Uhyre key and reinserted it into the slot of his Rangadriver. “The End!”

Fire gathered around Surtur’s sword, melting the ceiling tiles with its intensity. A wave of fiery destruction blasted past Simensen, just missing him as he scrambled away in terror. He heaved heavy breaths, grateful to be alive. He opened his mouth for a pithy remark—an insult for Surtur’s missed attack—but any words died in his throat as he saw the devastation left behind.

Simensen stood stock-still, speechless.

Three entire city blocks were simply gone, a charred, smoking hole the only thing remaining of the once-prosperous business district. Any building not destroyed by the initial impact had either collapsed under the strain of such a powerful blow or caught fire. With a single swing of his blade, Surtur had left a permanent scar on Bifrost City. He had proven he could tear apart this city—no, the world—with his bare hands.

Ragnarök had begun.

[jonathanvik]

Luyten V - Chapter 25

“Okay, Grandma. I’ll text whenever I can,” Rose said.

“If anything happened to you…” Her grandmother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I’ll be fine,” Rose replied, accepting the sudden hug from her grandmother.

“Rose is a survivor, Mom,” her mother said, pride behind her words.

“Those terrible military men expect too much from you.” Her grandmother dabbed at her eyes again before giving Sandage and Brown a scathing glare. “Shame on you for bringing a child into a war!”

“It’s not my choice, I assure you,” Sandage replied smoothly. In fact, if you wanted to blame anyone for Rose’s current situation, it should be Rose. Her future self had dragged her into this mess.

“I expect her to return in one piece.” Her grandmother put steel in her voice.

“Mom, it’s only a sleepover,” her mother said, somewhat exasperated.

“She’s in excellent hands, Martha,” her father said, but this only earned a glare of disapproval from his mother-in-law.

Her grandmother turned to address Rose’s mom like her husband hadn’t spoken. “This might seem like a brief visit, but I’ll be back for Sophie’s graduation, Carol. I expect to see one heck of a party ready when I get here.”

“Of course, Mom.” Rose’s mother seemed somewhat exasperated, but smiled.

“I’ll miss you, Grandma!” Danny said, hugging his grandmother’s leg.

“Me too, dear. Be good for your mom, okay?” This earned a nod from Danny. Grandma turned to address Sophia next.

“And I expect you to behave, too. No wild college parties. I don’t want to come to visit and see you with child already.”

“Come on.” Sophia rolled her eyes. “Like that’d ever happen.”

“With child?” Rose blinked. What the heck does that mean?

Catching her daughter’s confusion, her mom gave some clarification. “It’s a long story. Your mother wasn’t always the most responsible in her youth.”

“And now she’s stuck with a useless dullard with a dead-end job!” Her grandmother stabbed Rose’s father in the chest with her cane.

“Always good to see you too, Martha,” her father said with false sincerity.

“Family, am I right?” Sandage whispered to Rose, earning a giggle from her. This comment earned a glare from her grandmother.

“We’d better get going. We still have to pick up Cecilia,” Sandage coughed into his fist. Her friend’s hotel lay almost an hour away; security concerns, apparently.

“Bye, Grandma!” Rose waved as she joined Sandage in his car. Brown sat next to her, a silent guardian as usual—though he looked amused by all the family drama. After getting a kiss from her grandmother and mom, they drove off.

“Why must mothers-in-law cause such trouble?” Sandage mused as they drove.

“What? Does your mother-in-law openly despise you, too?” Even when Rose was young, it’d been obvious how much Grandma Galle disliked her father, a barbed comment always on her lips, but nobody had ever given her an adequate explanation of why.

“Thankfully no!” Sandage said, laughing. “But she’s never approved of my job—says it keeps me away from my family. She’s argued more than once that I should quit the FBI and become a foreman at her husband’s factory.”

“Why haven’t you? Your job is pretty dangerous.”  Rose asked.

“It’s because I love the sense of adventure my job provides me!”

“Really?”

“No, of course not.” Sandage stifled a laugh. “But what this job does is important. I’ve seen too many bad things. I want to make sure they can never threaten my family.” The car wheel squealed as Sandage tightened his grip.

“And I suppose that includes the Altair?”

“It does. I didn’t choose this fight, but I’m going to end it.” Rose heard the steel behind the ex-FBI agent’s voice.

“You’re pretty cool, Mr. Sandage.”

This earned a wide smile from Sandage. “Not bad for an ex-paper pusher, eh?”

When they approached the hotel Cecilia was temporarily using, they found her and her guardian, Doctor Burbidge, already standing outside. In her hand, Cecillia friend carried her suitcase. It was shockingly small compared to what Rose had packed in the trunk. Cecilia likely possessed few possessions.

“Vera’s right. Cecilia needs a shopping trip!” Rose thought.

“I expect to see her back here by 7 a.m. sharp.” Doctor Burbidge’s words left no room for argument. She rambled about a dozen other things Sandage needed to obey—medication, that sort of thing. The LUVOLT agent looked bored, but listened.

As the adults talked, Rose invited Cecilia into the car. “I bought this new game on my phone—want to play?”

“Sure.” But her friend seemed distracted.

“Is something the matter?” Rose asked. Cecilia’s surrogate mom disappeared into the distance as they drove away. 

“It’s nothing, but…”

“But?”

Cecilia released a sigh. “I had another vision.”

“It’s not full of doom and gloom, is it?” Rose said, tensing. Her bodyguard turned to face them, just as interested.

“No, but it complicates things,” Cecilia replied. “I don’t really understand it. Why was Vera there?”

“Vera?” Rose said, blinking in confusion.

“Sorry, could you start from the beginning? Deep breaths. We’ll wait for you to gather your thoughts,” Sandage said from the driver’s seat.

“I was somewhere in this vision. The colors and lights…” Cecilia shook her head. “Nothing made much sense. And Vera was with me. We stood together in this other place, watching the odd scenery, and that’s when the vision ended.”

“Okay.” Rose wasn’t sure how to process this information. What the heck could this even mean?

“It doesn’t sound like Earth at all,” Sandage said, frowning. “How’d you end up there?”

“Could the Altair have brought you there?” Brown said, finally speaking. “We don’t really understand where they come from.”

“I suppose.” Cecilia gave a shrug.

“You sure get around to interesting places, Cecilia.” First an alien mothership and now this?

“Get serious, Rose.” But Rose’s comment made Cecilia’s mouth rise in amusement.

“What do you think, Mr. Sandage?” Rose asked.

“Not sure. This extra-dimensional stuff is beyond my pay grade,” Sandage replied.

“And I’m just dumb muscle,” Brown said, giving a self-deprecating smile.

“I’ll ask Doctor Gold,” Sandage said. “We’ll see what the science types say.”

“We should ask the streamer too,” Brown added. “She’s an alien. She might know something.”

“You mean Stella?” Rose asked.

“It’s worth a shot,” Sandage said, nodding.

“Okay. I’ll contact her.” Though Cecilia sounded like she’d rather throw herself off a bridge. “Though, she likes being called Macauley—a bizarre name for a girl,” Cecilia said.

“She is an alien, though.” Rose paused, recalling every detail she could about the mysterious streamer. While the VTuber liked to cloak herself in mystery, some details had leaked out. “If I recall, Stella started streaming about two years ago. She’s surprisingly well-versed about the world. Like, if you asked her trivia about any country, she’d recall it almost instantly.”

“That’s because she used a search engine to find the answer,” Cecilia said, unimpressed.

Rose ignored her friend’s biting comment. “And she’s a great linguist. She knows almost ten languages—most she can speak with perfect fluency.” Rose’s favorite streams were the ones where Stella sung songs from other countries, usually anime OPs. 

“Because she’s a computer program and can learn them instantly,” Cecilia replied.

“Whatever the case, I’ve gotten the impression Macauley has been on Earth for many years,” Sandage said.

“Her vTuber lore said she came to Earth to understand humanity,” Rose said, thinking aloud. “I wonder if there’s any truth to it.”

“She has called herself our guardian angel,” Sandage said. “So who knows about that, either? Only Macauley, and she’s not telling.”

“Just like her.” Rose gave an affectionate smile and nodded. “Her paradoxical nature is part of her charm.”

“Right.” Cecilia’s expression soured.

“Don’t worry, Cecilia. During the sleepover, we’ll have plenty of time to study Stella and glean her secrets!”

“Great.” Cecilia scowled, earning a laugh from Sandage and Rose. Brown snorted, hiding his obvious amusement.

“Just drive already,” Cecilia said.

“Jeez. She’s treating a dinner and sleepover like she’s going to an execution,” Rose thought, amused. But she swore she’d make things fun for her friend—make her forget about the horrible things they were dealing with. She owed it to her friend—and to herself—for this little break.

---

“So, she’s leaving town for a couple of days?” Lord Tarazed said, intrigued. Unlike their previous conversations, this one took place in person. They stood in a distant part of a local park, one not often visited. A nearby stream gurgled as they spoke. Denebokab and Tseen Foo watched from the sidelines with obvious curiosity.

“A friend from the LUVOLT invited her over for the weekend,” Vera said. “They’ll be back on Monday.”

“What a perfect opportunity to smash the Red Devil to bits!” Tseen Foo said, eyes alight with excitement. “The fools!”

“Will it be that simple, though?” Denebokab said. “Luyten V seems to possess a mind of its own!”

“So what? It’s four against one,” Tseen Foo replied. “Sounds easy.”

Vera wasn’t so sure either. The Luyten V seemed to pull off miracle after miracle. It seemed foolish to discount the giant robot.

“No.” Lord Tarazed said, putting the kibosh on that plan. “I want the humans to think we’re scared, beaten for the moment. Besides, the Ectutai are the greater threat. The Red Devil is a quantifiable threat—the Ectutai are still unknown to us. We don’t know their capabilities. Besides, attacking the Luyten V will only put their guard up. Denebokab still hasn’t snuck onto their ship yet.”

Lord Tarazed was being cautious as usual, focused on the bigger picture. The Ectutai had an unknown level of technology they could throw at the Altair. In warfare, information was often more valuable than easy short-term victories.

“Why haven’t you then?” Tseen Foo said, glaring at Denebokab.

“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” Denebokab replied. “Security around the Ectutai ship is tight. They thoroughly vet everyone before allowing entry. The Ectutai have given the humans some scanners. I don’t know if they can detect our kind or not.”

“Wonderful,” Tseen Foo scowled.

“Okab revealed to them that we can take their appearance.” Denebokab said. “I doubt they know we can convert them to our kind, but they’re careful about impostors. They won’t let anything slip past their notice.”

“Only a rat, maybe,” Vera said, thinking out loud.

“Sorry?” Denebokab said, blinking in confusion.

“It’s an Earth creature. A small rodent, a pest.” Vera considered her host’s education. “In ancient days, they snuck onto ships and used them to spread into other continents.”

“Brilliant!” Denebokab said, beaming. “That just might work!”

“Sounds boring. It’d be more fun to smash your way inside,” Tseen Foo said.

“Which he won’t do,” Lord Tarazed said, giving Tseen Foo a reproachful glare. “Indeed, disguising oneself as a tiny Earth creature could be a clever method of infiltration. Your presence will not alarm anyone if you are spotted.”

“Though I doubt the Ectutai will like catching an Earth pest on their ship,” Vera said.

“I’ll be careful. Excellent suggestion, Aquila!” Denebokab said, beaming. This praise made Vera’s cheeks run hot—a human reaction against her will. But it wasn’t bad, though.

“Yes, you have proven your worth, Aquila.” From Lord Tarazed, this was high praise. “As for Rose’s departure, examine her house, her room—anywhere you can access. Discover any clues about how Rose became the Luyten V’s pilot.” Despite being Rose’s best friend, she’d been rather tight-lipped about those details. Silenced by the government, no doubt.

“Sounds simple enough.” Her host was a family friend. Accessing Rose’s house wouldn’t be difficult. Vera already had some ideas for how she might accomplish these goals.

“And then?” Tseen Foo asked, impatient.

“Then leave a trap for Rose,” Master Tarazed said. “This weekend trip will drop her guard.”

“Didn’t you want to avoid rattling the Ectutai?” Vera asked.

“We’ll make sure it appears like a tragic accident,” Lord Tarazed replied. “I have a device already made for this purpose. Aquila, plant this in her house.” He passed her a small silver metal box that had surprising heft as Vera grabbed it. It was an innocuous little device—one might confuse it with a cookie tin. Unlike what you saw on TV, the bomb had no timer. Heck, Vera wasn’t even sure how you opened it.

It was a good plan. Somehow, the Luyten V detected when its pilot was in danger. A sudden explosion wouldn’t be detectable until it was too late. She doubted Rose would pull another miracle from her hat.

A mournful part of Vera grieved her coming actions. Some human sentiment didn’t want to see Rose hurt. Vera—Aquila—brushed these foolish human thoughts aside.

“It shall be done, Master Tarazed.”

“Finally! Things are getting interesting! Denebokab, make sure you destroy plenty of Ectutai. Show them the terror of the Altair!” Tseen Foo said.

“I’ll think about it,” was Denebokab’s flat response.

“You have your assignments.” With that, the human-disguised Master Tarazed slinked away.

“Good hunting,” Tseen Foo said before striding away.

“I really don’t like that guy,” Denebokab said, his tone sour. This wasn’t hard to guess from their mental link, but it surprised Vera to hear him say it out loud. “Seriously. Is destruction all he thinks about?”

While Vera understood his antipathy, they were on the same side. She told her Altair comrade as much.

“Okay, sure, humanity is doomed—but the Altair exist for more than senseless destruction. Music, for example.”

“Music?”

“Listen.” Confused, Vera did as Denebokab instructed and heard… nothing. Some animals scurrying about some bushes, but it was otherwise quiet. It wasn’t what someone might consider a grand orchestra.

“The birds,” Denebokab pointed at some birds chirping in a tree. “How the wind rustles the leaves. The dogs speaking their native tongue.”

Sure enough, Vera detected dogs barking in the distance. But she only stared blankly, not understanding his point. Why should they care about the chatter of lesser creatures, or the racket caused by natural phenomena? Someone clearly had spent too long in the void.

“They are our food. This entire planet is our food. We will break it down to feed the swarm,” Vera said, not unkindly.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make it any less beautiful, because of how temporary it is.”

“Someone’s definitely spent too much time in the void.” While she contained human memories, they only provided context—knowledge. Any Earthly attachments were pointless.

When Denebokab caught her expression, he sighed. “Never mind. Good luck, Aquila.” He walked away, humming in sync with the birdsong.

“Strange guy.” Still, as long as he completed his mission, she wouldn’t complain. She bounced the destructive device in her hand, considering the responsibility the Altair general had given to her. It seemed like an unceremonious end to the Red Devil—but appropriate. She and her monster eye would die and stop plaguing her kind.

“Sorry, Rose. No climactic final battle. Just death.” Vera chuckled to herself.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 27

The hospital buzzed with activity as Yareli entered its halls, Johan following close behind her. Typical of hospitals, everything was sanitary, cleaned to a white sheen. It was a far cry from the grimy back-alley joint Johan had been forced to use. Nurses went swiftly about their business, hurrying to complete their next duty. The aftermath of the Bifrost Police Department Massacre provided them with plenty of business. The waiting room was packed with people, and Yareli had to push her way through. People gave the odd woman in the full biker uniform strange looks, but she ignored them.

Minutes passed, and Rebecca wandered into the waiting room. The girl looked a mess, eyes puffy from crying. “I’m glad you came so quickly. Davidson gave us a ride as soon as he heard.”

“Is your mother okay?” Yareli gave her friend a tight, reassuring hug. The girl accepted the kind gesture gratefully.

“Terrible mess it was,” Samuel said, walking over with a cup of coffee cupped in his hand. Rebecca gave a grateful nod when he handed it over. “I can hardly believe it.”

After taking a sip of coffee, the girl finally spoke. “She’ll live, but the damage is pretty bad. There’ll be terrible scarring, mostly on her face. The doctors are talking about skin grafts. They’re hopeful about repairing most of the damage.”

“Thank goodness.” Yareli paused before asking her next question, knowing it’d be a sensitive topic. “So, what happened?”

“Yeah, your mom works for Ymir? Since when?” Johan’s voice held a hint of accusation. Yareli sighed. Like usual, the Jotnar stumbled into sensitive subjects like a clumsy bull.

Rebecca, however, seemed unperturbed by his tone, answering truthfully. “My mom works as Ymir’s Chief Strategy Officer. She’s pretty high on the food chain. She’s known their president, Mark Wilson, since forever. I’ve met him at parties my mom sometimes drags me to.”

“What?!” Johan sputtered, mouth open in complete shock.

Yareli, however, wasn’t surprised. This answered the little questions she’d always wondered about. She’d sensed a grudge against Ymir that spanned long before she’d met the girl.

“I’m not a spy, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rebecca said. “Truthfully, I joined the Jotnar because I was bored. It’s dull being Laura Lauper’s daughter, and I wanted to do some mischief.”

Rebecca’s expression soured, her face creasing into a scowl. “I’d always suspected Ymir was doing shady crap, but I never imagined they���d attempt anything close to this Ragnarök insanity. I don’t hate my mom or anything, but she should know better. They’re trying to take over the world, for goodness’ sake!”

“You know, Becca, I never realized how heroic you are,” Samuel said, a dumb grin plastered over his face.

“Someone has to do something,” Rebecca replied.

“Samuel, you knew about this?” Johan gave Samuel a suspicious glance.

“Obviously,” Samuel said, nonplussed.

“And you never told the rest of us?!” Johan said, his hackles raised.

“Because Becca’s family situation isn’t your business,” Samuel replied. Considering her relationship with her father, Yareli sympathized with Rebecca’s position. The lie of omission didn’t bother Yareli as much as she expected. Samuel was right, as usual.

“So, what caused your mother’s burns?” Yareli said, interrupting Johan’s further protests. “Was it Reine?”

“I’m not sure.” Rebecca shook her head. “I couldn’t get my mom to speak about it. Detective Anderson is here. Maybe you can finagle the truth out of him.”

“Isn’t that him over there?” Samuel pointed towards the shabby-looking detective fumbling with a coffee machine.

“Detective Anderson!” The officer jerked his head up in surprise as Yareli approached, just as he struggled to get the machine to accept his credit card.

“Ilma? What are you doing here?” The detective blinked in confusion before dawning realization struck him as Rebecca followed behind her. “Right. Your friend Rebecca is the daughter of the victim. I thought I recognized her.”

“What happened?” Yareli asked. “Is it true Rebecca’s mother got attacked?”

The detective raked his fingers through his hair. “Unfortunately, Lauper isn’t coherent yet. Heck, this entire business doesn’t make sense. Everyone’s saying five different things!”

“Just give us the most concrete details,” Yareli said.

“Last night at around 20:30, someone who looked like Ymir’s president attacked Ymir’s security guards without provocation,” Anderson replied. “There was something odd about him—inhuman, somehow. But I can confirm one thing. Mark Wilson, president of Ymir, is dead. We found his body while searching Ymir’s headquarters, locked away in a storage area in a cooler.”

Yareli gave an involuntary gasp of surprise, unable to believe her ears. She’d seen the man alive only yesterday. It was unreal. This news would devastate her father. “No way.”

“Really? And you’re telling me Reine was his killer?” Johan didn’t hide his skepticism.

“They haven’t performed the autopsy yet, but Wilson had a hole burned through his chest. Whether the idol was responsible for his death hasn’t been determined.”

“Anything else?” Yareli asked.

Anderson scratched at the nape of his neck. “Several people are dead—burned to death by the fake Wilson creature. Not sure how yet. Your father, Ilma, was involved in a fight against it. He’s alive but injured. He’s here in St. Lucy, but hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

“Father.” If Yareli had a heart, it’d be beating out of her chest. “Can you arrange a visit?”

“That wouldn’t be advisable.” Anderson grimaced. “The other Ilma is here. I doubt the nursing staff would appreciate a brawl in their halls, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Yareli gave a muted nod, already expecting this answer. How would she even prove she was family, anyway? Would they even accept someone who refused to show their face? Still, it gnawed at her that she couldn’t visit him. So unfair. She was his real daughter, dammit! Not whatever that robot was!

The detective’s phone beeped. “Sorry, I need to answer this. I’ll keep you posted.” He paused. “Please don’t tell anyone I leaked this much about my investigation.”

After Anderson left, they returned to the waiting area. They’d agreed to wait until they got better answers about the situation. Yareli wanted to stay, at least until her father awoke. Despite the issues between them, worry ate away at Yareli. How could she not? She dared not leave his side, no matter what happened.

---

“Can I get you anything, Father?” ID-01 asked, attentive as always. “Should I order you some food?”

“No, it’s alright.” Halvorsen grabbed his makeshift daughter’s hand, gripping it tight. Despite not exactly having emotions, she had a powerful desire to protect him. “I just need some rest.”

“Okay, Father.” The girl wished to say more but kept silent.

Nurses attended to him, but Halvorsen waved their concerns away. Already he was regaining his strength. He’d need it in the coming days. It pained him to be bedridden, but charging after Surtur half-assed while injured helped no one. Besides, it offered him time to consider and plan. Surtur wouldn’t find Halvorsen so unprepared during their next meeting.

Halvorsen turned on the TV screen using a remote. He scanned each channel, searching for news on their new foe. It surprised him that there hadn’t been any more attacks. While only a theory, Halvorsen guessed he’d seriously wounded the creature. It provided little comfort once Surtur uncovered the Ragnadriver’s secrets. They wouldn’t remain hidden from Surtur’s advanced AI forever.

“Father, may I ask you a question?” ID-01 said, watching as a Ymir commercial came on screen. Reine, Ymir’s famous idol, hawked the merits of Ymir’s new teleportation technology. It ended with one of her jingles, fluffy and catchy.

“What exactly are Reine’s motives?” the girl asked. “Why would Mallory’s death push her to such lengths? By all accounts, it was an accident.”

Halvorsen only shook his head and sighed. “Humans are like that. Grief pushes them to desperate and foolish actions sometimes. It’s how we are.”

“Is it so important that Reine has someone to blame, despite knowing the truth?” ID-01 tilted her head, not exactly understanding the point.

“I fear Reine’s hatred is the only thing keeping her alive. She might have nothing else to live for.”

The girl had been famous, with a healthy and generous stipend from Ymir. Wilson had doted on her, treating her like the daughter he’d never had. Yet, it hadn’t been enough to heal her wounded heart. He feared her soul was diseased beyond repair. Another mistake he’d need to fix.

“It seems pointless to me. Human behavior continues to elude me.”

This brought a genuine smile to Halvorsen’s lips. “You aren’t the only one.”

“Yes, humans are full of contradictions,” a new, elderly voice said. ID-01 moved protectively to guard over her father, entering a fighting stance. Much to Halvorsen’s astonishment, the old man from the repair shop entered his hospital room.

“You have nothing to fear from me, young lady.” Davidson watched ID-01 in amusement.

“What are you doing here? Only close family are allowed to visit.” Halvorsen waved his guardian to stand down, which she reluctantly did after several tense moments.

“I’m an old man.” Davidson huffed a chuckle, mischief glittering in his eye. “Few pay any attention to my kind. Young lady, do you mind if I speak to your father alone? We have much to discuss.”

ID-01 gave her father a skeptical glance, but he nodded. While he dreaded this conversation, it needed to be done.

“She seems like a good girl. Very dutiful to her father,” Davidson said, watching ID-01 throw him a reluctant glance before leaving.

“Yes, it’s a trait she’s developed on her own, actually.” The contrast between when he’d first activated ID-01 and now always stunned him. She became more human every day. Halvorsen was eager to see how far she’d developed in five years. While simulated by an AI, ID-01’s love helped fill the chasm in his heart caused by so much tragedy.

“It’s a trait she shares with Yareli—the other Ilma,” Davidson said. While he’d known the subject was coming, Halvorsen still winced.

“‘Dutiful’ isn’t the word I’d use.” Back then, Ilma had enjoyed finding ways to rebel against his wishes. It always drove him up the wall. Yet, somehow, he missed it, wishing ID-01 shared it.

“Nonsense. Yareli is a very loving girl,” Davidson said, his tone chiding. “Somewhat of a loner, but she cares about people. Including you, even now.”

“Really?” Halvorsen kept his tone neutral.

“I’ve never seen her so distraught. It’s clear to see, even if she doesn’t possess human features.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Unexpected anger exploded from Halvorsen’s mouth. “Do you expect me to just accept her? Why are you so convinced she didn’t kill my real daughter?”

“Despite everything, she still loves you,” Davidson replied, voice steady. “She’s sitting in the waiting room right now, fretting that she can’t visit you.”

Halvorsen didn’t reply, stewing over his turbulent emotions. Davidson continued, filling the silence.

“I raised her, you know. I found her alone in a sewer drain, lost, confused, and without any memories. Yes, she was only a skeleton, but also a lost child. She needed help.”

Memories of the accident returned with vivid, painful clarity. After Mallory had died fighting to protect him, his daughter had collapsed. The strain of the prototype Angra Armlet had killed her. Overwhelmed with grief, Halvorsen had hurled the wolf Uhyre key out the window.

“So that’s what happened afterward.” The key must have tried to recreate Ilma’s original body, hence the skeletal form.

“She’s a willful girl, but also kind and courageous,” Davidson said, giving Halvorsen a sly look. “Sound familiar?”

“It doesn’t change the fact she might be a copy!” Halvorsen stubbornly crossed his arms. His Yareli wasn’t innocent. She’d gone on a rampage, slaughtering several Niflhel. Was the other man aware of this fact? Would he love her so quickly then? He opened his mouth to offer such a point, but Davidson interrupted him.

“We’re arguing in circles. That isn’t why I came. I’m here to ask for your help.”

“Oh?” The change in subject surprised Halvorsen.

“Yareli’s sword got destroyed during her fight with that miscreant, Reine. I’ve tried my best, but weapon design isn’t my field. I was wondering if you’d help me design a new weapon for her.”

Halvorsen considered this news. Without her gun/sword, Fenrir was so much weaker. While still dangerous, she was more manageable. “And why would I do this?”

“Need I say more?” Davidson gestured toward Halvorsen’s numerous injuries. “Didn’t I hear some creature attacked you?”

“Right.” Halvorsen scowled, getting his point. While he didn’t trust her, Fenrir was a powerful warrior. They’d need her help to defeat Reine and Surtur. Simensen was a wild card he dared not trust.

“I’ll consider it,” Halvorsen said, his answer noncommittal. He required time to dwell on this quandary.

“And please, allow Yareli to visit you. She misses you dearly.”

“I’ll consider it!” Without meaning to, Halvorsen’s voice rose several octaves.

“Oh dear, I fear I must be going.” Davidson glanced toward the door. They both heard footsteps pounding toward it.

“Please be gentle with your questioning. The patient is still recovering,” the nurse assigned to Halvorsen’s room said. She led two shabby-looking detectives into the room. It shocked her to find the unexpected guest in Halvorsen’s room.

“Excuse me. I’ll be leaving now.” After a bow, Davidson left before the nurse could comment on his presence.

The head detective seemed equally baffled, but recovered quickly and withdrew a notebook. “Sorry to bother you, sir. We have some questions that need answering.”

“Sure.” They needed to know the truth about Surtur. Still, Halvorsen’s mind drifted toward the retreating Davidson, considering his request. Was he seriously considering it? He felt a wave of gratitude for the man who had basically raised his daughter’s doppelgänger. Despite their differences, she deserved that love and attention.

A plan formulated in his head, coming unbidden despite his protests. He considered the possibilities and what best suited Fenrir’s fighting style. While Halvorsen hadn’t committed to answering yet, he’d be damned if he got caught unprepared again.

While he recounted his story, more ideas appeared in his head. Doubt bubbled to the surface again, hating all the uncertainties. He couldn’t stop wondering if Fenrir was their greatest asset or greatest enemy. Worse, seeing her again terrified him far beyond facing Surtur’s evil might.

Dammit. Why couldn’t Fenrir just be a monster like Surtur?

---

“Still no sign? Think he’s gone to ground?” Palmer asked, passing over his binoculars. Dino wasn’t sure what his partner expected to find, but it offered a slim chance of spotting their target. The police scanner buzzed with activity, but they hadn’t reported anything about their quarry.

“No. Surtur isn’t the type.” Dino’s gut told him Surtur wouldn’t be eager to cause trouble. Though, he’d expected the monster to show himself already. Had the doctor’s attack impacted its vital functionality?

It disturbed him that yet another Ymir experiment had gone awry. Worse still, this Surtur creature shared the president’s face but none of his human heart. Despite Ymir crumbling under his feet, Dino owed Wilson a debt to stop his deranged doppelgänger.

Besides, it’d be an excellent opportunity to show up Fenrir once again. She wasn’t Bifrost’s only resident superhero. He still bore a smug satisfaction from the results of their last encounter. However, victory here wasn’t as certain. Surtur could kill with a damned touch.

The problem was finding the creature. Once it had driven off in its stolen car, it had proven surprisingly elusive for a hulking naked man with inhuman orange eyes. If only he’d had the chance to meet the monster back in Ymir’s headquarters. Then Dino would have a better chance of sussing out its behavioral patterns.

A yawn escaped Dino’s lips. He hadn’t slept all night, too intent on hunting Ymir’s new enemy. He rubbed at his face, wondering if he should retire for a quick nap. Palmer wasn’t as plum exhausted as he was. A quick nap wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like they were any closer to finding their target.

Before Dino could offer his brilliant idea, a flash of sudden insight struck his tired mind. “Surtur stole the prototype Ragnadriver, right?”

“Sir?” Palmer asked as Dino reached for their comm unit.

“Dino here. Headquarters, I have an inquiry about something.”

“We hear you.” Jake Baker, head of Ymir security, replied.

“I think our friend might go after data on the Ragnadriver. Where might the creature find that information?”

“Makes sense,” Jake said after a moment’s consideration. “One moment. We’ll see what we can do. Almost everyone involved in the project is dead.”

A sigh escaped Dino’s lips. “Just do your best.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here,” Jake said to someone Dino couldn’t see. “Sure, I’ll hand it over.”

“I believe I can answer your question,” the Valkyrie, Pihu, said. “Doctor Halvorsen told me they moved all the data about the Ragnadriver to a private, unconnected server. Ymir scrubbed any remaining data clean. They weren’t taking any chances after the Niflhel incident. Can’t have an investigator stumbling upon the information. Where it is now, however, I can’t tell you. Only Doctor Halvorsen knows at the moment.”

“Okay, so it’s likely Surtur wouldn’t find the information.” While comforting, it didn’t help them find their quarry. Dino had been hoping the monster would attack random Ymir labs, searching for the information it sought. “Thanks for the intel. We’ll keep searching.”

“Actually. A thought occurred to me,” Pihu said, stopping Dino before he switched off the comm. “There is someone else who is currently researching the Ragnadriver.”

“Who?” Dino perked up, alert and curious for answers.

“Ophion Industries,” Pihu replied. “I haven’t seen it, but by all accounts, their president possesses one.”

“Don’t remind me.” Dino scowled, recalling too well the pain the bastard’s poison had caused. He suffered through another involuntary shiver. It’d been a near thing that he’d survived Jörmungandr’s deadly poison. “Thanks for the information. We’ll keep searching.”

“Sounds like a worthy lead,” Palmer said.

“True. Might as well investigate.” Dino programmed their new destination into the navicomputer, heading toward Ophion Industries’ only research laboratory. While it seemed unlikely Surtur would stumble upon some email mentioning Simensen’s Ragnadriver, it was better than searching around randomly.

Or was it? Ymir’s email system didn’t have the highest level of security. And Ymir had suffered because of loose lips before. A sly grin grew on his face. Even if Surtur didn’t appear, it provided a useful opportunity to learn how much Ophion Industries knew about the Ragnadriver. Dino wasn’t a terrible hacker. He’d teach Ophion the folly of opposing Ymir.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 26

Halvorsen’s weapon jerked as it intercepted a punch, deflecting it just enough to avoid direct contact. Surtur proved impossibly quick, Halvorsen only barely staying a step ahead. While the fake Wilson fought without any real martial skill, it didn’t matter. After every exchange, Surtur’s abilities grew better capable of predicting Halvorsen’s movements.

Since Halvorsen feared even brushing Surtur, it stymied his efforts. It made him unable to take advantage of openings he could have exploited with his fists or legs.

“Dammit. If I don’t finish this soon, I’m finished,” Halvorsen thought, heart hammering as a punch slipped centimeters past his chest.

Halvorsen retaliated with a feint aimed toward the fake Wilson’s exposed ribs. His opponent responded to the fake attack accordingly. But Halvorsen out-predicted him, following through with an attack the machine creature assumed wasn’t real. Shards of metal shredded like paper from the proto-Ragnadriver’s blade.

While he doubted it’d work again, it kept Surtur on his toes. Halvorsen dared not get predictable. His human instincts were his best advantage. Unlike ID-01, Surtur didn’t even possess rudimentary emotions or humanity. He only responded with cold machine logic, fighting through calculations and not a warrior’s spirit.

Sweat beaded his forehead as Halvorsen hurried his pace, not giving ID-00 the possibility of counterattacking. His attacks switched from feints to bold strikes, doing his damnedest to keep his opponent off balance. The constant change of tactics overwhelmed Surtur, who grunted as Halvorsen tore a decent chunk from his left leg. The wound patched over quickly, though the machine creature moved with a noticeable stiffness in that leg.

“What is that weapon?” Surtur asked, retreating toward the still-smoldering Surtur server room. Despite being backed into a literal corner, the fake Wilson analyzed the situation with cold logic and precision.

Naturally, Halvorsen didn’t answer. He heaved heavy breaths, having not exerted himself this hard in years. While he’d inflicted some damage, Halvorsen couldn’t deny his human body had its limits.

“Freeze!” Halvorsen cursed as several police officers entered, their footsteps thundering as they charged into the room. They focused their trained guns on the sword-wielding, burly man first. “Drop your weapon!”

“It’s not me you need to worry about!” Halvorsen gestured toward ID-00. The cops blinked, hesitating upon seeing the strange naked man with smoldering, inhuman orange eyes.

The first officer shook his head, returning his attention to Halvorsen again. “I won’t speak again. Drop your weapon.”

“Dammit!” Halvorsen warily eyed his opponent. This situation only worked to Surtur’s benefit.

His opponent watched the intruders with curiosity, Halvorsen seeing the gears spinning in his head. If Halvorsen dropped his weapon, it left him vulnerable to attack. If his opponent ignored the officer’s orders, it’d only lead to an altercation Surtur would take advantage of.

Some semblance of a plan formulated in Halvorsen’s head as his weapon clattered to the floor. “Okay, I’m unarmed.”

The lead officer shook his head, trying to understand the scene in vain. His eyes flicked toward the charred corpses. “You’re coming in to answer some questions. What is this, some new Ymir weapon?”

“Makes as much sense as anything else,” said his companion as he cautiously approached Surtur. “Wilson, right? Are you uninjured?” His eyes widened when he noticed tears in fake Wilson’s skin, revealing circuitry beneath.

“What the—?” He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as Surtur’s massive hand wrapped around his neck. A crack reverberated through the hallway. At blinding speed, ID-00 grabbed the officer’s gun.

Burning pain stabbed into Halvorsen’s chest as the bullet struck him. Despite preparing an ambush, he hadn’t been quick enough. Fighting through his pain, he kicked the proto-Ragnadriver from the ground and grabbed it midair. Thankfully, Halvorsen intercepted the second and third bullets with his weapon. Still, his strength ebbed from his wound, making the slightest movement of his torso agony.

While the first officer hadn’t expected Surtur’s sudden betrayal, he acted quickly and fired at the fake Wilson. His eyes widened when the bullets ricocheted off his skin.

“That’s not Wilson,” Halvorsen said through clenched teeth. “Or anything even human. It’s an experiment that’s gone horribly wrong. We can’t let it escape! It will threaten the entire world!”

“Hold on!” The dire pronouncement took the officer aback. It wasn’t the sort of sentence you’d expect in casual conversation. But the earnestness in Halvorsen’s words broke past the officer’s incredulity.

Surtur eyed them both, mulling over who was the easier target. While grievously injured, Halvorsen had a weapon capable of hurting it. The officer only had a useless handgun. This pondering only lasted a split moment. Surtur ignored the officer for Halvorsen, coming at him with lightning speed.

An endless barrage of punches and kicks pushed Halvorsen back. Despite his best efforts, Halvorsen barely avoided each deadly blow. Heat radiated from the creature, like Surtur’s entire body was aflame. The officer tried to assist, hitting a potshot whenever a vulnerability appeared. But Surtur didn’t even flinch as the bullets collided with his head.

“Oh God, it’s just like fighting the Niflhel!” Despair tinged the officer’s voice. He frantically spoke into his comm, calling for backup.

Horror traveled down Halvorsen’s spine when his back struck a wall. Surtur had cornered him against the doorway leading toward the Surtur server room, and Halvorsen wasn’t confident he could slip past ID-00.

“It’s over,” Surtur said in his inhuman, mechanical voice. Halvorsen detected a hint of gloating within it. Minute, but still present.

“No!” With reckless abandon, the officer threw himself onto Surtur’s back, trying to pull the creature away. The man’s death inhuman screams as his body lit aflame would haunt Halvorsen’s nightmares, but it provided the perfect distraction.

Surtur realized his mistake, swinging his arm to bludgeon Halvorsen’s head. Despite his injuries, Halvorsen ducked away. His sword jabbed forward, impaling the metal monstrosity that wore his best friend’s face. It staggered, unleashing a distorted, mechanical cry of pain.

“It’s time to finish this!” Halvorsen twisted his blade to tear his creation in half, but Surtur did the unexpected. He jumped backward, ripping his body free from Halvorsen’s proto-Ragnadriver. It inflicted terrible system damage, but not fatal. The creature stared down at the gaping hole, considering his situation.

Halvorsen uttered a curse as his body failed him, struggling to stand with his waning strength. While grievously injured, Surtur remained resolute. Could nothing stop this monster?

Before Halvorsen began his desperate last stand, heavily armed officers barged into the corridor. They wore SWAT armor and carried heavy-duty weaponry. Thankfully, these officers ignored Halvorsen and focused their weapons on the orange-eyed machine man with a gaping hole in his chest. The late officer must have properly conveyed the seriousness of the situation.

“Stand down, or we will fire.” The lead officer’s voice offered no room for argument.

For the first time, Halvorsen detected hesitation in Surtur’s body language. In its condition, the situation seemed untenable. The fake Wilson stood stock-still, face impassive. Halvorsen moved to prevent any escape, but his body failed him again. The proto-Ragnadriver clattered to the floor from his nerveless fingers as he toppled over, no longer having the strength to stand.

ID-00 took this prime opportunity, rushing Halvorsen’s prone form. The SWAT team opened fire, their rifles actually inflicting some damage. They left pockmarks on Surtur’s skin, sparks flying as the bullets penetrated. Despite running on wobbly legs, Surtur remained undeterred and reached Halvorsen. To his surprise, ID-00 ignored him and ran past to grab the proto-Ragnadriver on the tiled floor.

“Don’t let him escape!���

Bullets continued to tear through Surtur’s body, but the machine man had what he wanted. He made a beeline for the nearby lab. It bought Surtur precious time to recover and create an escape path.

The SWAT team pursued the fake Wilson, but Halvorsen’s heart sank when the ground trembled beneath him. The SWAT team’s leader cried out in alarm and shouted unintelligible orders. Halvorsen barely heard any of it, pulling his body toward the waiting lab despite the blinding pain it caused.

Through the open door, Halvorsen saw what he’d feared. A hole sat burned through the tiled floor, creating a path to the floor below. Surtur had slipped away with a prize that would likely doom them all.

---

“I’m glad you came so quickly, sir,” Anderson’s partner said as he approached the tower, the center of Ymir’s power. It was an impressive building, speaking of the technological mastery of the company.

“What the hell has Ymir done now?”

Johnson hesitated, worry dominating his features. Dear God, that wasn’t a good sign. “It’s best you see yourself, sir.”

“And someone did this?” Anderson said, studying the remains of a charred corpse. He made a face, trying to ignore the smell of charred meat as he examined the scene. The damage rendered the body unrecognizable. It was what you’d expect from being trapped alive in a burning building. But the surrounding ground was spotless, the poor, charred victim the only sign of any fire occurring. Had an Angra Armlet been involved? No human could have done this.

“A half-melted badge we found identified him as Officer Agnar. His partner, Gretsch, is over there, neck broken.” Johnson pointed toward the blanket-covered body slumped on the floor. “The actual fire started in that computer room.”

“Any witnesses?” At a glance, Anderson noted the signs of gunfire, fired upon a single person. Was this the result of the SWAT team he’d seen outside?

“Besides the SWAT team? Two. Doctor Halvorsen and Jessica Lauper. The good doctor is being treated for a gunshot wound. We found Lauper hiding under a desk in that server room. She’s suffered smoke inhalation and a few second-degree burns, but the doctor assures me she’ll make a full recovery. There shouldn’t be any issue talking with her.”

“We’ll do that. Førre led the team, right? I wonder what he’ll say about this debacle.”

Anderson’s hackles raised, his cop instincts telling him they’d finally entered the storm. His deepest fears told him this was a tempest they’d likely not survive. Best text Bifrost’s local superhero right away.

---

“He’s this way!”

Surtur watched as armed men ran past his hiding spot. The Ymir offices provided plenty of hiding spots. The humans had proven more resourceful and dangerous than his estimate had ever expected. One human even had the power to transform into a fearsome bear-like creature, joining the hunt against him.

Surtur frowned, studying the prize he’d stolen from the man called Halvorsen. It was a fascinating device with untapped potential—but incomplete. It had some mechanism he didn’t yet understand. He needed more data, but pursuing such knowledge proved difficult.

“Bothersome.” He’d tried the database accessible by the local computers, but their information had been useless, tertiary. It contained only vague hints of what he sought. With time, Surtur would unveil their secrets, but the humans hunting him made such an action difficult.

“What the hell? Why are you in my office?” Before the man could protest further, Surtur snapped the bothersome human’s neck with a single slap.

He glanced down at the corpse. It wasn’t enough. Killing one human at a time wouldn’t help fulfill his purpose. While Surtur already possessed the key to bring about human society’s destruction, they had weaponry capable of damaging or even destroying him. His current abilities weren’t enough.

A quick scan of the man’s phone revealed information of little importance, but a small tidbit caught Surtur’s attention. Yesterday, the man had received a spreadsheet containing the public finances of a company called Ophion Industries. He claimed to have found suspicious funding tied to an unspecified project cloaked as microchip research. The dead man believed it might have some correlation to top-secret weapon manufacturing. His last message mentioned coming in early to investigate a potential connection to Simensen’s mysterious Ragnadriver.

“Ragnadriver?” That name matched the device he’d taken from Halvorsen. It was obvious the device Surtur held was an incomplete prototype. If Ophion had developed a working version, then it was an avenue worth investigating.

“This building is too dangerous.” Staying would only lead to his destruction. The public records stated Ophion was a small company, and it seemed likely its defenses wouldn’t be as tough. Surtur nodded, concluding he’d gain little by remaining at Ymir’s central headquarters.

“There you are.” The one-eyed bear monster smashed through cubicles as he rushed toward his quarry.

“How bothersome.” Surtur spotted a window nearby, already planning the course of his escape. They stood on the 149th floor, but with careful maneuvering, Surtur concluded he could descend while inflicting only minor damage on himself.

Glass exploded as Surtur hurled himself out the window, the shards leaving little gashes in his skin. His hand grabbed the side of the building, fingers shredding concrete as he slid downward. Surtur carefully controlled his trajectory, avoiding taking on more speed than he could handle. As expected, the bear-human didn’t follow such a dangerous course, instead taking an elevator to cut Surtur off at ground level.

Time wasn’t on Surtur’s side, so he dropped twenty floors to the street below. Outside, guards cried in alarm, but he ignored them. A woman exiting her car yelped as Surtur hurled her aside and entered the vehicle. It only took moments for him to hack the car’s control system.

Guards opened fire to stop him. It mattered little as Surtur drove through the wooded barrier at the checkpoint at high speed. Cars beeped in protest as he cruised through Bifrost with his usual machine precision.

---

“Here? You built this place up in your message.” Johan had taken them to a rundown diner in a sketchier part of Bifrost. Yareli had hoped for somewhere fancier for Johan’s apology meeting.

“The place has the best fries. Samuel and I come here frequently.”

“But I can’t eat, Johan,” Yareli thought, but followed him inside anyway. A portly man with thinning hair greeted them as they took a booth.

“The usual, Kal,” Johan said.

“And the lady?” Kal asked.

“Nothing, please,” Yareli said, getting an odd look from the proprietor. She still hadn’t removed her helmet. After a moment, Kal shrugged and left to take Johan’s order. From the Jotnar’s eager expression, he looked starving.

“The soup here is pretty good, too. Kal tells me it’s a recipe from his dear grandmother. I’ve met her once—nice woman.”

Yareli gave a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgment, allowing Johan to fill the silence. He continued to ramble on. She waited patiently for him to remember why they’d agreed to arrange this meeting in the first place. The food soon arrived, and Johan dug into his fish and fries with eager gusto.

“Huh, Justus Karl-Heinz got injured?” Johan frowned, chomping on a fry while watching a nearby television. “You have got to be kidding me! He’s Bifrost’s best player! So much for our World Cup dreams.”

“I can’t believe I’m just now learning about this! This Ymir business is keeping me way too distracted!” He smiled in delight as a Ymir commercial appeared on-screen, singing along as the company’s idol sang in a jaunty little tune. Yareli remained silent while Johan discussed the finer points of Bifrost’s football team. The air became awkward when Johan finally realized that Yareli hadn’t said a single word in the last thirty minutes.

“Not a fan of football?” Johan gave a nervous laugh as Yareli surrendered nothing about her current feelings. More silence passed between them.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry!” Johan blurted, cheeks flushed red. “It was stupid of me to keep that secret for so long, okay? Just say something, please!”

“Fine. I forgive you.” While his apology had been a complete train wreck, it had been heartfelt. She supposed she couldn’t blame his reasoning for joining that snake Simensen, even if she disagreed with it.

Johan sighed in relief, the tension fading from his face. “Remind me never to get you mad again, jeez.”

That brought a chuckle to Yareli. “Yeah, I’m bummed about Karl-Heinz getting injured, too. I’ve been following his career since college. We actually attended the same university, but I’ve never actually met him.”

“You like football?”

“Yep. Father’s a big fan. I’ve been watching it since I was little cub. Despite their flaws, Bifrost’s national team is my favorite.”

“Really?” Johan was delighted they had something in common.

“Yeah, I’ve been to almost every World Cup. It’s a bit of a tradition.” She inwardly winced, realizing the impossibility of continuing that tradition with her current situation with her father. It hurt her more than she’d expected.

“And let me guess, you always got the best seats, too,” Annoyance crept into Johan’s voice. “I wasn’t far off about you being a spoiled princess. Some of us haven’t even attended one World Cup!”

“My father likes to travel.” Yareli could only offer a shrug in response. “He’s actually taken me to many places. I remember one year we went to Hawaii for almost a month. We flew first class!”

“Really.” Johan poorly hid his annoyance. Yareli found she enjoyed riling him up. If she had lips, she’d be wearing a smug smile.

“Seriously, though. Gramps and I have been saving up to attend this year’s Cup. You could come with. It wouldn’t be a bother.”

“What, and see Germany win again? No, thanks.” Johan rolled his eyes, but he seemed open to the idea.

They chatted a little longer, discussing and complaining about the various trappings of Bifrost’s team and football statistics. Yareli enjoyed the conversation. Besides Gramps, she’d had little opportunity to talk with someone for this long. They broke into random other topics, and the diner soon bustled with business as lunchtime arrived.

Kal visited their table more than once, annoyed that Yareli continued not to order anything. He kept throwing her furtive glances, wondering what her deal was. Johan yawned and stretched his stiff arm. It clearly still caused him a great deal of discomfort.

“Are you doing okay, Johan? I’d forgotten how badly you got hurt.”

“I’ll survive. Let’s get going. Maybe Rebecca uncovered something useful.”

Not knowing Mark Wilson’s fate made her nervous. The distraction had been nice, but duty called. Yareli stood to leave, but Johan stopped her.

“Actually, Ilma, I wanted to give you something first.” Johan fetched a small box from his pocket and presented it to Yareli. “Think of it as an apology gift.”

“Oh?” Yareli opened it to reveal a small brooch shaped like a butterfly. Its bright blue colors stood out against its silver frame. While not expensive, it was pretty, and Yareli adored it.

“Davidson told me Yareli means ‘small butterfly.’ I thought it was appropriate, though I wasn’t sure if you liked cute things,” Johan said somewhat bashfully.

“I love it.” Without hesitation, she attached it to her biker outfit. Its blue coloring stood out against her black suit. It brought unexpected happiness to her heart. She hadn’t received such a sentimental gift in too long.

“Believe it or not, I actually like cute things. I’m not really the super-tough tomboy everyone thinks I am.” While she possessed a considerable talent in martial arts, she’d only partaken in it because of her father’s insistence.

“Really?” Johan wanted to ask more, but the buzz of Yareli’s phone interrupted the conversation. It was from Rebecca.

“Hello?” Yareli asked. “Did you find something out about Wilson?”

“Ilma, something terrible has just happened.” Rebecca sounded awful. Had she been crying? “Come to St. Lucy Hospital right away!”

“What happened?” Yareli asked.

Rebecca sniffed, confirming she had been crying. “My mom has been badly hurt.”

“What? That’s terrible!” Johan said, overhearing the conversation.

“She was at Ymir’s headquarters when it happened,” Rebecca replied, her friends sharing a confused glance. Her mother worked for Ymir? “It isn’t clear what happened yet. But I’m almost certain it’s something terrible. Detective Anderson is here.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Johan tossed Yareli a nervous glance and called for their check.

The dread that had been bubbling under the surface had finally shown itself. In her bones, Yareli sensed something terrible had happened.

Their troubles had only just begun.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 25

“What you’re saying is impossible.” Voices shouted as ID-01 approached the Valkyries’ barracks. Curious, she wandered closer, wondering what her comrades were arguing about. Pihu and Abbey froze as she entered.

“Uh, hi, Ilma,” Pihu said, giving an awkward wave. Abbey nodded, but otherwise remained quiet.

Her situation had turned odd since her comrades had learned of ID-01’s true nature. While not hostile, they remained unsure how to treat her—unsurprising, considering the circumstances. It surprised ID-01 herself to discover she was a mechanical being. When she recontextualized her life, the revelation made sense. It explained her habitual down periods she’d assumed were sleep—or why she never required food. It was obvious once you thought about it.

“What’s the matter?” ID-01 noticed how tense Abbey appeared, distressed by something.

“Abbey says that Reine killed President Wilson,” Pihu replied.

ID-01 blinked. “Why would she do that?” It seemed incongruous with the upbeat media icon they’d acquainted over the last few days.

“Revenge.” Abbey’s tone was grim.

When ID-01 recontextualized Reine’s action with this information, it filled gaps she hadn’t realized existed. Reine had been unusually insistent about joining the Valkyrie Project. Despite only being a publicity stunt, the idol had worked hard to match her peers in skill. Had she desired the power to enact this revenge?

“Revenge for what?” Pihu asked. “Why go this far?”

“Before you respond, I’d appreciate a full explanation first,” her father asked, entering their headquarters. “You’ve only told me pieces. A more complete picture would be helpful before we theorize about Reine’s motives.”

“Makes sense.” Abbey nodded in agreement.

Before Abbey offered her story, Doctor Halvorsen gave ID-01 a reassuring smile. Unlike the others, her father continued to treat ID-01 as his daughter. They were true family, despite not being related organically. Despite what some might claim, Fenrir was nothing but an aberration—a rogue piece of technology that incorrectly assumed the identity of Ilma Halvorsen. The pain Fenrir caused her father proved she needed to be destroyed.

Everyone stayed silent as Abbey gave a full report of her actions this morning. ID-01 logged every detail for further analysis. It disappointed her that Abbey had been friendly with a known enemy of Ymir. Would this mean she’d be unreliable in their future battles against Fenrir?

Doctor Halvorsen tapped his chin, considering Abbey’s story. “They told me they had completed the third Ragnadriver, but how did Reine get her hands on it?”

“Reine is close to the president,” Pihu said. “Maybe she stole it from him?”

“Possible. The lack of news worries me,” Doctor Halvorsen said. “Lauper hasn’t been answering my texts. I’ll visit her personally and get some answers.”

“Good luck.” Abbey waved her father goodbye as he left the room. While he’d hidden his reaction, the doctor’s posture revealed his anxiety.

“What a mess. I’d thought we were friends.” Pihu hesitated a moment. “I liked her.”

The entire situation confused ID-01. She hadn’t expected Reine to be an enemy. A sense of outrage permeated her insides, displeased that the former Valkyrie had betrayed her father.

“We need to stop her,” Abbey said, tone serious. “Before she hurts anyone else. She’s one of us. It’s our responsibility to defeat her. But how, with only one working Valkyrie suit? The rest require extensive repairs. And we’re outclassed here, like a guppy fighting a shark.”

“Not necessarily.” Pihu paced, regathering her thoughts. “We could enhance the remaining Valkyrie suit. Project Brokkr might be the key!”

“I thought that was in early development,” Abbey replied.

“The nanomachines could boost the armor’s systems,” ID-01 said, catching on. She scanned the specifications of the blueprints for the prototype Brokkr driver, already devising possible ways to enhance the already considerable capabilities of the Valkyrie armor.

“It would be experimental, though. Dangerous,” Pihu said, her tone grim. “But an avenue worth exploring. I’ll start right away.”

Excellent. The threats they faced weren’t beyond their capabilities to defeat. With her father on their side, ID-01 would destroy these rogue Ragnadriver users one by one. ID-01 would prove she was Valter Halvorsen’s real daughter.

---

“I can’t believe her!” Johan said, stomping through the sitting area and plopping himself on a nearby couch. He crossed his arms and scanned his phone, wondering if he might find some movie to pass the time and distract him from his problems. The other Jotnar weren’t as obliging.

“Have a fight?” Rebecca glanced up from the laptop resting on her lap.

“I’ll say. We heard you across the block,” Samuel added, taking some amusement from the situation. “Lover’s quarrel.”

“It’s not any of your…” Johan paused, registering what his friend had just said. “Lover’s quarrel? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Really, ’cause it sounded like one to me,” Samuel replied.

“So, she knows everything about our deal with Simensen? Can’t say I’m surprised she’s angry with us,” Rebecca said, dodging Samuel’s stupid comment. “And I don’t blame her.”

“I planned on telling her, but I figured it’d be better if Johan did it. Never figured he’d be dumb enough to wait until she figured out everything herself first.” Samuel gave a mournful shake of his head. “Women always find out, bud.”

“I figured her knowing would complicate things,” Johan said, his tone defensive.

“Johan, my man. You’ll need to go through hell and back to return to Ilma’s good graces.” Samuel gave a mournful sigh. “Can’t say I envy you.”

“You act like she’s my girlfriend or something,” Johan said, losing his temper.

“Because she is your girl,” Samuel said matter-of-factly. “It’s obvious to everyone.”

“Well, she isn’t,” Johan snapped. Besides, Reine was his one true love! Dear God, that sounded pathetic and cringy. Thank goodness nobody in the room was a mind reader.

Samuel rolled his eyes, looking toward the heavens to plead for help. “Please. Ever since you’ve met, you’ve been crazy about each other. Why do you think I’ve never made any moves on her?”

“Because she’d shoot you down in an instant?” How had his friend arrived at such an erroneous conclusion? Johan looked at Rebecca for guidance. “You don’t believe this nonsense, right?”

Much to Johan’s distress, the hacker girl hesitated. “You can’t deny you two have been pretty attached to each other. You two would die for each other. That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

“You guys are just…” Johan rubbed his temple, sensing a migraine coming. He had no romantic interest in Yareli. It should be obvious to everyone! Besides, how could he like such a stuck-up princess, anyway?

“Deny it all you want, but you can’t ignore that Ilma’s peeved at you,” Samuel said. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing. She’s the one who should apologize!” Yareli was the one who started their stupid fight.

“Johan, Johan.” Samuel gave a theatrical sigh and groaned. “You really know nothing about girls. She’s expecting you to apologize first, even if she’s in the wrong.”

“You did kinda lie to her. It’s only fair,” Rebecca added her support to this suggestion.

“Man up and talk to her already.” Samuel gave Johan a sudden push toward the door. “Staying angry only sours things. Take this from a guy that knows.” 

“Okay, fine.” Johan rolled his eyes. Why were his friends making such a big deal about this imaginary couple’s fight? Still, he supposed Yareli deserved an apology. Best clear the air.

“Alright guys, I’ll see you later.” Johan pulled out the keys to their van and headed toward the shop’s garage.

As expected, Yareli’s bike was missing. After sending a text message, his phone buzzed as Yareli responded to his message. While she sounded annoyed, Yareli agreed to meet him somewhere. After some back and forth, they’d decided to meet at a local diner. Johan was starving, and it was a nice, private place to chat.

A twinge of nervousness clutched at his stomach, making him queasy. The sudden urge to go somewhere else became overwhelming. But he’d sworn he’d give this apology, so fleeing wasn’t an option.

“I wonder if I should buy her some flowers to smooth things over. Does Ilma even like flowers?” No, that’s a terrible idea. She might misconstrue it as a date! He pushed Samuel’s smug smile from his mind. Still, she wouldn’t mind a gift, reminding himself he owed her one.

As the vehicle’s autodrive took him through a side street, Johan pondered his conundrum with Yareli. He spotted a tiny venue as he traveled through the recovering Bifrost, immediately perking up.

“It’s perfect!” He entered his new instructions into the van’s navicomputer and smiled as the vehicle changed direction.

---

“Doctor Nomikos is conducting a secret experiment?” Halvorsen raised an eyebrow and crossed his meaty arms. The junior scientist squirmed under his stony gaze.

“That’s what they told me,” the junior scientist, Dave Bruyne, said. “No one’s allowed in the Surtur server room until the experiment ends.”

Tracking down Lauper had proven more difficult than Halvorsen had expected. There’d been a confirmed attack on the president, but details were fuzzy. No one could confirm Mark Wilson’s location. Was he injured or dead? Despite his high position, no one could tell Halvorsen anything. Then, to put a cherry on this debacle, the higher echelons were conducting some secret experiments.

“I’m Ymir’s head scientist of the Valkyrie Project.” Halvorsen put steel in his voice. “I deserve to know what’s going on!” The entire situation gave him a bad feeling. Why would Wilson not contact him if he’d gotten hurt in the attack?

“Well, okay.” Bruyne finally relented, giving a reluctant nod. He motioned for the guards to allow him into the secure area.

Since Fenrir attacked their secret lab under Skoll Enterprises, they’d reinforced security around Surtur. The machine was a masterpiece of Ymir engineering. The Jotnar had come too close to destroying it.

Sweat trickled down Bruyne’s brow as they approached the server room. Even at this distance, the heat the system generated was incredible. It was like walking into a sauna. 

“Enough pussyfooting around the issue. What is this experiment Lauper and Nomikos are conducting? Aren’t we beyond secrecy at this point?”

“I’m just in the dark.” Bruyne offered an apologetic smile. “But I overheard it requires Surtur’s remarkable processing power. Oh, right, and that prototype robot body you created.”

“They took ID-00?!” Halvorsen seethed in outrage.

That’d been a personal project that belonged to him alone. It had also been an imperfect prototype. It used too much energy, and its nanomachines were buggy. Instead of acting in tandem with the main body’s systems, they attacked anything the tiny robots presumed to be a threat to their host. Halvorsen feared the consequences of using such machines.

“Did Lauper even read my notes about why I declined to use ID-00?” Anxiety crept into Halvorsen’s voice.

Before the junior scientist could respond, Halvorsen stumbled as the entire building shook. Screams came from beyond the hallway in front of them, and the sound of distant gunfire rattled off.

What’s happening? Was Fenrir attacking the lab? But that theory rang false to him.

“Get help.” Halvorsen clasped Bruyne with a firm hand, waking the younger man from his stunned stupor. After a muted nod, he retreated toward the way he’d come. Halvorsen ran forward, throwing open the door to the Surtur laboratory after his ID had cleared.

Smoke obscured Halvorsen’s vision as he entered further into the hallway. Multiple doors led to labs, but smoke originated from the far door leading to the Surtur server room. Red light haloed it, smoke pouring from around it in a continual flow. Fearing the worst, Halvorsen kicked the door open and charged inside.

The entire Surtur computer system was aflame, but that was a mere curiosity compared to the sight before him. Standing amongst the fire was a naked man, dark-skinned and eerily familiar. He remained untouched by the flames, like they were one and the same.

Another man screamed, firing a handgun into the figure’s head. The naked man didn’t even flinch, tilting his head in curiosity. With inhuman speed, the naked man grabbed his attacker’s face.

The guard screamed and writhed, striking his attacker’s arm with the back end of his weapon. It proved useless, and Halvorsen’s heart skipped several beats as the guard’s body burst into flame. He screamed and screamed as the fire consumed him. Thankfully, his suffering was brief. Seconds later, his attacker reduced him to a charred skeleton whose arms dropped after their flailing.

Halvorsen froze as his foot struck something. He took a tentative glance down to discover he’d bumped into what appeared to be a person’s remains. Much to Halvorsen’s horror, the room was littered with them. Someone whimpered, but the smoke made them impossible to identify.

The fire system activated, and stale water rained down on him, creating a pungent odor in the air. Despite the downpour, flames licked around the man in a continuous blaze.

“M-Mark?” Halvorsen said, staring at the man who’d conducted this terrible deed. This person shared his friend’s face, but it was all wrong. It shared none of Wilson’s firm but kind-hearted demeanor. Instead, his face was a blank of emotion or feeling. He’d killed a man like an afterthought. The fake Wilson’s eyes blazed orange, showing the continual flame that blazed within.

“No, that is not my name,” the fake Wilson replied. “My name is Surtur.”

Surtur? A terrible theory formed within Halvorsen’s head as the puzzle pieces slipped together. “Lauper, you idiot. What have you done?!”

“I am not an enemy.” Halvorsen lifted his hands, knowing he was powerless against such a monster. The guards had obviously failed to subdue him. “All threats against you are neutralized. Stand down.” He cursed. Why hadn’t he thought to put a shutdown phrase in ID-00? His only hope was appealing to Surtur’s machine mind with logic.

“Threat or not, you will all die,” the monster with Wilson’s face said. “It is my purpose to fulfill Ragnarök.”

Ragnarök?! The situation was worse than he ever imagined. Halvorsen needed to stop this creature before it became a greater threat. Surtur bent down to strike, but Halvorsen had already fled through the door.

The door Halvorsen had slammed behind him dented as Surtur smashed into it. Dear God, if he’d been a second slower… The door twisted out of shape as Surtur slammed into it again.

The door behind Halvorsen blew off its hinges, burning itself into a nearby wall. Surtur’s heat washed over Halvorsen, painful in its intensity.

“What the hell?” a guard said, eyes wide as he saw his boss standing there naked and on fire.

“Shoot!” Halvorsen ordered. “Keep your distance. Buy some time. I’ll get reinforcements!”

Thankfully, the guard didn’t argue, opening fire on Surtur with his fellows. A man screamed before falling silent. Halvorsen didn’t glance back to learn what horrible fate had befallen the guard. He slipped into a nearby empty lab room.

“I need to contact Ilma and the others.” He cursed. It’d take them over twenty minutes to arrive, even by flight. His soul felt sick when another guard screamed, dying another hideous death.

“I can’t afford to sit around.” Halvorsen’s eyes scanned the laboratory, hoping to locate some usable weapon. His fingers tapped out a text message to the Valkyries while he searched. Even if they arrived late, it’d be better than nothing.

“Hm?” Halvorsen spotted the scattered parts of a failed prototype Ragnadriver. The device had gone through multiple revisions before settling on the design Reine had stolen.

“Yes, this might work.” Halvorsen swung a prototype of a Ragnadriver molded into a sword, testing its weight. While the transformation unit was nonfunctional, it was his best weapon against Surtur.

“No can do,” came a text reply from Pihu. “I’ve been tinkering with the armor’s system. It’s currently in a million pieces. It’ll take hours to reassemble.”

“Okay, muster what forces you can.” Not the news Halvorsen had wished to hear, but he’d find another way. “Check if Dino is in fighting shape. Hurry.”

It appeared he would face Surtur alone. Oh well. Halvorsen swore he’d settle the matter, alone or not. The lab door burst open, and he charged into the waiting corridor.

The smell of charred meat assaulted his nostrils. The fates of the guards he’d sent against Surtur were worse than he’d ever imagined. Pieces of the walls had melted from the intense heat the monster had used to incinerate its victims. Some guards fired at the creature from a service desk, but their efforts proved less than useless.

“Surtur!” Halvorsen charged, his outburst catching the machine creature’s attention. Unaware of the power of Halvorsen’s weapon, Surtur took the full brunt of the proto-Ragnadriver, assuming it harmless like the guards’ guns.

“What?” Surtur retreated a step, startled, as the blade left a deep gash in his metal carapace. While inflicting less damage than Halvorsen had liked, his weapon had proven its usefulness. The machine creature pressed a hand against the wound, marveling at the pain it had caused.

Unfortunately, Surtur wised up, slipping around Halvorsen’s next strike with inhuman precision. Its computer mind had calculated the vector of his attack and acted accordingly.

“Interesting. I hadn’t expected humans to have the power to damage me. A mistake I will correct.” The area around Surtur’s injured belly rippled, and a plate of metal formed over the wound, sealing it shut. While not completely healed, Surtur had patched over that vulnerability.

Halvorsen muttered a curse. Surtur was learning quickly. The fake Wilson was still a child walking its first steps. Ymir—and the world—couldn’t afford for the creature to develop any further. He entered a fighting stance, ready to do whatever it took to put his creation down.

[jonathanvik]

Luyten V - Chapter 24

“Hey, Rose!” a student called as she passed down the hallway.

“Looking good, Rose!” another student gave her a thumbs-up.

“Dude, that eye is sweet! Are you, like, part demon now?” another student said. His attire consisted of all black with spiky red hair. Chains on his arms rattled as he shot finger guns at her.

“No, I’m just ordinary Rose, Jeff,” Rose replied, her tone dry. “It’s just a side effect of the Altair infection. There isn’t anything to worry about.” That was the cover story they’d devised to explain Rose’s new red eye.

“It’s Killer now!,” the boy replied. “Is it true you met aliens? Dude, do they have, like, sharp fangs and tentacles? They still haven’t revealed what they’re like under their armor.”

“Is it true they’re ten feet tall?” A female student asked. 

“Are they like vegetarians?” Another girl asked, curious. More students crowded around, eager for answers about the Ectutai. The Altair attack had sidelined their plan for the public reveal, so everyone was speculating about their alien visitors.

“I can’t say much. I didn’t have time to see them,” Rose lied. Sandage had pressed her not leaking anything until the press release. Still, students bombarded her with other questions, like if she had laser vision now thanks to her unusual eye.

“Enough,” a firm voice interrupted the tumult. The strength of the command made everyone go silent. Hans walked through the crowd of students. ‘Killer’ opened his mouth to say something, but Hans’ firm glare shut him up. Students soon departed from the boy’s stern presence, leaving Rose alone with him.

“Um, thanks, I suppose,” Rose said somewhat awkwardly. Her heart skipped a beat as Hans examined her with such fierce intensity. Or was it concern? She couldn’t tell.

Finally, he spoke again. “How are you? Is there any lingering problem from your coma?”

“To my knowledge, no.” Rose said.

“Good.” As usual, Hans said nothing further.

“He’s so annoying,” Rose thought. “He can’t tell me how worried he was?” Had he even worried about her? Somehow, she doubted it.

“There you are,” a familiar voice said. From Georges’ frantic expression, he’d been fretting about her all week. “You didn’t take the usual entrance.”

“I wanted to slip in unnoticed.” So much for that plan. On normal days, she’d be just another student, hardly worth noticing. These days, she couldn’t go anywhere without people mobbing her.

At least she had her usual bodyguard back, fully recovered from his injuries. He was pleased to return to duty, and Rose was glad to have him. She’d missed him. He’d keep away anything too annoying. And Hans too, she supposed. Brown waved at her from a couple of feet away, giving her a broad smile. 

“Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you!” Georges said. From the state of the boy, he had gotten little sleep since her coma. Rose worried if he’d even been eating well, either.

“Like I told Hans, I’m fine. Better than ever.”

“But!” Georges pointed at her red eye, fretting with worry.

“It’s nothing. Just an odd side effect of the Altair infection.” While it glowed like a cat’s eye, nothing seemed that unusual about it otherwise. Her vision in that eye hadn’t even changed. It would have been cool if it could shoot lasers, but she preferred her normal, totally ordinary eye.

“How did the aliens cure you?” Georges asked, his tone suspicious.

Rose blinked at the sudden change in topic. “The Ectutai?”

“Yes. I’ve heard the rumors about them, how they’re towering, monstrous giants. But they have amazing technology despite their brutish nature. They must have cured you. Though, at what cost? I doubt the Ectutai are as altruistic as they claim. And the timing is convenient too. How long has the government known about them, I wonder?”

“Beats me,” Rose said, waiting patiently as her old friend rambled on as usual. Truthfully, she was just as skeptical of the Ectutai. Their sudden appearance was so bizarre.

“And there’s Stella too,” Rose thought. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her favorite vTuber being some alien. More strangeness. Lucky her.

A cough interrupted their conversation. Her bodyguard Brown pointed at his watch. Oh, shoot. If they didn’t hurry, she’d miss class.

“Talk to you later, Rose.” Georges moved in, his tone conspiratorial. “Meet in that place after school. Ditch your government stooge.”

“Sure, Georges,” Rose said with a sigh. He was talking about his house. Some secret location. Should she just ditch him?

“Bye, Rose,” Hans said, but he shifted uncomfortably, clearly wanting to say more. “I’m glad you’re better.”

“Okay.” She watched as Hans left, unsure about his awkward goodbye.

“That boy sure cares about you,” Brown said, chuckling.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Rose replied. If he cared about her, he’d show it more.

“I mean it,” Brown said. “He visited you often, from what I hear.”

“Huh?” Rose blinked. “Really?”

“Any time he could,” Brown smirked. “Ah, young love.”

“It’s not like that, Mr. Brown! Stop having funny ideas!” Rose’s cheeks glowed crimson. Of all the things to say. There would never be anything between them. Still, his frequent visits flattered her. She groaned, wishing she could understand that boy better.

---

“And carry the nine, and you’re finished,” her math teacher, Ms. Sagan, said, pointing at a complex equation on the whiteboard. From her classmates’ expressions, many wished they were somewhere else, only grudgingly paying attention because they were required to learn this. 

But Rose scratched in her notes, listening with rapt attention. Math had always been her favorite subject, she found it  fascinating.

“Okay, class. I want all the questions at the end of Chapter 19 finished by tomorrow,” Ms. Sagan said as class wrapped up. This earned some boos from her classmates, but Rose hardly noticed. She scanned the page, getting a feel for the assigned task. She nodded, pleased. It’d only take her about fifteen minutes to complete all the questions, some already solved in her head. So caught in this task, she hadn’t noticed her teacher's approach.

“Diligent as ever, I see,” Ms. Sagan said, amused. 

“Oh yes. I’m fine,” Rose replied, shutting her textbook. She gathered her things and returned them to her backpack.

“Are you sure? We’ve been worried about you,” her teacher said, her face concerned. Rose noticed that she was staring into her red eye.

“Just peachy!” Rose said, her smile forced. Already, she was tired of people asking about her.

“Okay. I’m here if you want to talk. You’ve been through a serious ordeal. Just ask, and I’ll find time for you.”

“Sure.” Rose sighed. Ms. Sagan wasn’t the first teacher to suggest this. Some even proposed seeing the guidance counselor. The nerve!

After gathering her books, she made a swift departure from the classroom, only to yelp in surprise as someone bumped into her.

“Vera!” Rose said, startled. The impact had knocked her friend off her feet, and Rose helped her up. “Careful there.”

“Rose. I’ve been wanting to talk with you,” Vera said.

“Have you? You couldn’t just text me?”

“You forgot your phone,” Vera said pointedly.

“Oh!” Rose felt around her pockets. Much to her chagrin, her friend was right. “Sorry, Vera. This morning was so hectic. It must have skipped my mind.”

“That’s why you’ve got me. Should I help you find your way to your next class, too?”

“Sure.” Rose rolled her eyes. But she furrowed her brow as Vera froze, her eyes widening. When she’d turned to face her friend, Vera had seen the strange change to Rose’s eyes.

“The Red Devil,” Vera muttered, her body seizing with fear.

“It’s not as bad as it looks!” Rose said, trying to placate her friend. “It’s only cosmetic, not like demonic or anything!”

“R-right.” But her friend still seemed shaky. “Anyway, are you interested in hanging out tonight? I bought this new romantic comedy starring Dennis Perlmutter. I’m sure you’ll love!”

“Sorry, Vera, but I can’t. We’re having a family night out. Grandma’s in town. We’re throwing a party to celebrate my recovery.” Since Grandma Galle lived in Florida, Rose didn’t see her too often. Grandma hadn’t seen her grandchildren since Christmas. “And Uncle Fritz and my cousins are coming too, I believe. So I don’t dare miss it.”

“Oh.” Vera seemed disappointed. “Another time then.” Her friend walked off without even saying goodbye.

“Um, see you in social studies later!” Rose called after her. That was odd.

“She took your coma pretty hard,” Ms. Sagan said from the classroom doorway. “I suppose she’s trying really hard to connect after everything.”

“I suppose.” Still, her behavior had been odd. Not like her friend at all.

“It must be everything.” Rose shook her head. Everyone had been acting odd around her. Why should her best friend be different? She swore to hang out with her the next chance she got.

“I can’t do it tomorrow, either,” Rose realized. Grandma was staying for the next three days. And then she remembered the training her bodyguard wanted her to do. While she’d recovered, she was still somewhat weak from her coma. Her schedule was annoyingly busy for the foreseeable future. Whatever, she’d make it up to Vera somehow.

“Ahem.” Her bodyguard pointed to his watch.

“Oh shoot!” Ms. Sagan smirked as Rose rushed off for her next class, her textbooks still bunched in her arms.

--

Glass cracked as Vera slammed a fist into the mirror, raining to the bathroom’s tiled floor. Red trickled onto the sink, but she barely noticed the pain. Why had she allowed the Red Devil’s demonic eye to trouble her so much? It seemed to see right through her.

“Stay on task,” Lord Tarazed said through the hive link, his steady voice calming her. “She knows nothing. Her ignorance will be her downfall.”

“Yes, Lord Tarazed,” Vera took a steadying breath. While such an action was pointless, her human form took strength from it.

“I’m Rose’s friend. It won’t be hard to find time alone with her, eventually.” And Vera knew how she’d do it. A new Boy’s Life album was coming out next week. That would be the perfect excuse to lure the Red Devil’s pilot to her bedroom. No, that wouldn’t work. Rose only tolerated the boy band. She preferred hard rock instead.

“What am I thinking? She’d tolerate it for a friend.” Besides, Rose owed her for after all the interminable Stella Kilonova streams she’d forced Vera to watch. “I wonder if Cecilia would like Boy’s Life.” They still hadn’t gone on their shopping session yet. They were planning to do it last week, but Rose’s coma interrupted those plans.

“Why are you blabbing about this?” Tseen Foo said, interrupting her musings. “Just stab her in the hallway and be done with it. Quit wasting time.”

“It’s too risky!” Vera felt certain Rose’s eye would warn her of such treachery.

“No. It’s just an eye.” But why did it torment her so?

“It’s fine,” Lord Tarazed said. “We don’t want humans to know we can impersonate their kind. Besides, we need to know more about the Red Devil and its function. Why did they choose a child as its pilot?”

“My way’s faster,” Tseen Foo said.

“I have decided. Do your task, Aquila,” the Altair general said.

“I shall see it done.” While unnecessary, Vera inclined her head. It was hard to shake the human instincts her human sacrifice had provided. Still, they would prove useful when infiltrating Rose and her government backers.

“Still.” Vera suppressed a shudder, knowing she’d need to face Rose’s red eye again—the one that saw all.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Vera said, stomping out of the bathroom. She passed a couple girls chattering amongst themselves, laughing at some private joke.

For the sake of the Altair, Vera—no, Aquila—could not fail. Rose and her unnatural eye would get theirs soon enough.

---

“Dinner at your place?” Rose toweled off sweat as she stepped off the treadmill. After her revival, the doctors had demanded a full physical. So far, everything seemed green.

“Why not?” Sandage said, passing her a bottle of water. Rose devoured it greedily. They’d made her run four freaking miles, and she needed the refreshment. “Some normalcy would be nice. Your parents seem alright with the idea.”

“But Grandma’s still in town,” Rose replied, sighing as she emptied half the bottle.

“It’s fine. It’ll be the night she leaves. Besides, my wife Jocelyn has been dying to meet you. I’ve told her all about you.”

“I guess that’ll be fine. Bemidji isn’t far. There’s no rush getting back.”

“We’re getting you back before your first class,” Sandage said, amused. “You’re not getting out of school that easily.”

“Well, shoot,” Rose said with mock severity.

“And you’re invited too, Cecilia,” Sandage said, turning to the girl who’d been watching the whole exchange.

“Who, me?” Cecilia said, startled.

“That’s a great idea!” Rose said, beaming. While she’d opened up some, her friend was still a solitary creature by nature. Some homemade food and a slumber party would do her some good.

“Don’t we have a big biology test coming up?” Cecilia asked, dubious.

“Which I know you’ll pass with ease,” Rose teased. Her friend had a sharp mind, forgetting basically nothing. “We’ll study while we’re there.”

Still, her friend seemed reluctant. “I don’t know.”

“What’s up? I thought you’d jump at the chance to leave town.” Her current home was still under repair, filled with crews doing their best to restore the LUVOLT facility to full operation.

“The Altair are still out there,” Cecilia said. “Can we afford wasting time on some silly dinner and sleepover?”

“I think it’s the best time,” Sandage said, suddenly serious. “You’ve both been through too much. You need some time to relax. If the Altair attack, the Ectutai will help fend them off. They learned a lot from the previous attack. They won’t be caught off guard again.”

“Still…”

“He’s right,” Rose said, coaxing her friend. “Let’s forget everything for a night and have some fun!” She needed a break from everyone constantly worrying about her. “And we can catch up on some Stella streams.”

Cecilia expression soured at the mention of the VTuber. She gave a resigned sigh. “Okay. I’m game.”

“Perfect!” Rose beamed. She’d have to bring some board games with her. There was this Kickstarter game she hadn’t played yet.

“Speaking of the Ectutai—how are they? Are they still planning their official debut?” After the Altair, it’d be delayed.

“Glad you asked,” Sandage said. “This Saturday at 8:00 AM Pacific Time, Prince Imrele will make his first official press release—unmasked and everything.”

“I hope people don’t snicker at him,” Rose remembered how the prince seemed more like a kid her age than some stately royal figure.

“There is that,” Sandage said, amused. “He’s young, but he’ll manage. Oh, and he gave me a message for you, Cecilia.”

“Huh?” her friend said, surprised.

“He’s offered an invitation to tour his ship. As thanks for saving his life,” Sandage said. “You’ll be the first human to see their spaceship from the inside.”

“Huh? Aren’t some human work crews helping with the rebuilding effort?” Rose asked.

“Turns out, that wasn’t their main ship—more of a light transport. Their mothership is parked behind our moon,” Sandage said. “And they want Cecilia to see it.”

“Why do you look so uncomfortable?” Rose elbowed her friend in the ribs. “I think a certain prince has taken a fancy to you.”

“Get serious,” Cecilia scowled, though her expression turned distant and troubled.

“What is it?”

“This matches your vision, right?” Sandage asked.

“Vision?” Rose supposed it made sense. Cecilia had them randomly, and some must have occurred during her coma.

“It does,” Cecilia whispered. “I don’t know what it means.”

“Screw the future. Don’t go then.” Rose said. “Besides, don’t I prove they don’t always come true?”

“I didn’t see you die, Rose. Just hurt. I assumed your injuries were worse than I thought.” Cecilia gave a resigned sigh. “But I’ll go. There might be a reason the Akashic Records showed it to me.”

“Like a future royal husband?” For this comment, Rose earned a harder elbow in the ribs. “I hope something comes from it.” Her friend fretted about the future so much. Instead of hope, Cecilia’s visions only ever seemed to conjure dread.

It was sad seeing her friend so fearful of the future. Rose supposed she’d need to be strong for both of them. If she could cheat fate once, she could do it again—break any vision if it meant creating a better future. She refused to allow some premonition to dictate her future. 

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 24

“Hydro…” The excitable voice sputtered to a halt as a firebolt blasted the driving game to pieces. The fiery pieces struck a nearby cabinet for a racing game, lighting the aged wood ablaze. 

“What power! And she’s just playing with me,” Yareli thought. The fire from the collateral of their fight was spreading quick. Yareli feared it wasn’t long until the entire building went aflame. Worse, the maze of arcade games blocked her path, making dodging rather difficult.

Fire burned in her chest as several blasts connected, dropping her to one knee. She still hadn’t recovered from her previous fight with Wilson.

“Tsk. Fight better than that. You’re making this too easy,” Reine said, slinging her gun across her shoulder.

Yareli charged, but a shot to the leg, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her opponent shoot her twice in the chest and Fenrir’s transformation failed, her armor dissipating into nothing. She collapsed, flames surrounding her, eager to engulf her.

“And that’s that,” Reine said. “I hope Doctor Halvorsen gives me a better fight.”

Father? Rage blinded Yareli’s vision, and she pushed herself to stand. It’d been a calculated insult, but she was too furious to care. Despite her terrible relationship with him, Yareli refused to allow anyone to touch him. The sudden lunge caught Reine by surprise. For several seconds, they fought over Hel’s weapon. Despite the discrepancy in strength, Yareli’s grip refused to break.

“Just a little closer.” Yareli’s hand reached to remove the Uhyre Key from the weapon’s base. A support beam dropped behind them. The flames crept ever closer, their boundless appetite hungry to consume all. They’d get caught in the Data Pirate’s Den’s death throes if they didn’t escape soon. An old beat-’em-up game crumpled when a sudden punch drove Yareli back, leaving her helpless on the floor.

“You are persistent. It’s a good thing I’m killing you now,” Reine said coldly, standing over Yareli with her gun pointed at her exposed skull. Her helmet had fallen off during the scuffle.

“Late president—what did you mean?” Reine’s offhand earlier comment about President Wilson had bothered Yareli.

“Mark Wilson is dead. I killed him,” Reine said, confirming Yareli’s worst fears. Her voice held not an ounce of regret. She’d enjoyed the deed. What the hell was this girl? “And you’re next.”

Yareli’s head slumped. In her condition, she couldn’t fight back. But she took some comfort knowing that with Wilson gone, Ymir’s Ragnarök plan had hit a serious snag. Could it survive without a visionary like its late president? Yareli went to her grave without regret.

“Who am I kidding?” Yareli thought. “Of course, I have regrets.” She’d made a terrible mess of her relationship with Johan and the other Jotnars. While still furious about their deception, her anger seemed pointless on her deathbed. And she’d failed to protect her father or untangle the web between them.

“Goodbye.”

Hel howled as a blade slashed across her chest from nowhere.

Yareli glanced up to find Abbey, donned in her Valkyrie armor, standing protectively over her, guarding her with the Valkyrie’s life.

“What are you doing, Abbey?” Reine asked, her voice icy. “Isn’t Fenrir an enemy?”

“She’s also the doctor’s daughter.” Despite the difference in power, Abbey stood ready to fight. “It doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Your death warrant,” Reine said, showing no hesitation in pointing her weapon at a former ally.

The emergency sirens blared in the distance, growing louder by the second. The building shuddered. For a tense moment, Yareli feared it would collapse. It thankfully didn’t—but it wouldn’t last long.

Abbey stood her ground, ready to fight despite the dangerous circumstances. The two combatants remained stationary, their eyes locked as the fire blazed around them and the sirens drew closer.

“Fine. We’ll settle this later, Fenrir,” Reine said, lowering her weapon. “It was too easy, anyway. I’ll be watching, Ilma. And Abbey—I won’t hesitate to destroy any of you Valkyries if you impede me again.”

Glass shattered as the Ymir idol dove through a nearby window, disappearing into the chilly night air.

“Let’s go.” Abbey reached down, pulling Yareli into a fireman’s carry. The floor trembled beneath them, but the Valkyrie held firm. She seemed to have some training in search and rescue. Her wings extended, and she flew through the window Hel had smashed.

If Yareli had a heart, it’d be soaring as they took to the air, flying high over the burning Data Pirate’s Den. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. Emergency vehicles stood parked around the bar, and firemen rushed to attach a hose to a nearby hydrant. Water shot from their hoses as they battled the blaze. Thankfully, no one noticed the two women hovering above, flying in the opposite direction.

After several blocks, Abbey flew toward a roof and dropped Yareli. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Yareli struggled to stand, but pride made her straighten. They stood on the roof of what seemed like an office building. Abbey tapped her helmet, speaking to someone.

“I’ve awoken the doctor. He needs to know about Reine going rogue.”

“Good plan.” Yareli paused, hesitant to speak her terrible news. “Reine told me she killed President Wilson.”

“What?” Abbey retreated a step, stunned. She hurriedly spoke into her comm. “Doctor Halvorsen says he knows nothing about this. Are you sure?”

“It’s what she told me.” Yareli could only offer a shrug.

“It can’t be. She’d never…” Abbey looked troubled, her eyes fretful. Reine had once been the Valkyrie’s friend. For her to be a crazed killer was inconceivable. The entire ordeal left a bitter taste in Yareli’s mouth.

“I’ll talk with the doctor. Watch yourself.” Without another word, the Valkyrie flew off, leaving a downcast Yareli.

---

“You’re back? Later than I expected. Did something happen? You’ve lost your helmet,” Rebecca said, still working hard on her computer. She wrinkled her nose. “Why do you smell like smoke?”

“Gather everyone. It’s important,” Yareli replied, ignoring the question. “Call the detective, too.”

“Okay.” Rebecca tapped on her phone, summoning a drowsy Anderson. While displeased, Yareli’s serious tone got his attention. In ten minutes, they’d all gathered, with Anderson on speaker.

“What’s this about, Ilma?” a groggy Samuel asked.

“So, what did Simensen say?” a pensive Johan added, no doubt fearing what secrets the businessman had spilled.

“Simensen doesn’t matter. Something terrible has happened.” Yareli considered her troubles with the Jotnar and Simensen a distant tenth issue. “President Mark Wilson is likely dead.”

“What?” Johan asked, flummoxed.

“Sorry?” Anderson said over the phone.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca scanned her news feed and several forums, frowning as she uncovered nothing.

“Ymir has likely covered it up. With their plans in such a late stage, it’s not surprising,” Yareli replied.

“Who told you this?” Anderson asked, not missing a beat.

“His killer herself.” Yareli paused, realizing how insane she’d sound if she named Wilson’s killer out loud. It seemed beyond farfetched, so she changed tactics. “She stole the newest Ragnadriver and tried to kill me. Calls herself Kamen Rider Hel. The Data Pirate’s Den got burned down in our scuffle.”

“Another Kamen Rider?” Johan said, amazed. 

“Oh my god, you’re right.” Rebecca stared at a text message the bar owner, Alex, had sent her. It showed a picture of the burned-out remains of the bar. The hacker girl redoubled her efforts in searching for info about Wilson’s death.

“Huh. Apparently, there was an attempt on President Wilson’s life,” Rebecca said, reading. “No one got hurt, but someone placed a small bomb in his office. There’s a short article about it, but the details are vague. Says it’s an ongoing investigation. Nothing about Wilson getting hurt, though.”

“So President Wilson is dead!” Samuel said, both astonished and excited. “Stands to reason.”

“Whoa, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Anderson said. “They only claimed to be Wilson’s killer. I’ll dig on my end. Well, Ilma, who attacked you? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

Yareli grimaced. “Reine Blouin.”

Johan almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the statement. “What?” His friends gave similar incredulous looks.

“Really?” Thankfully, the detective wasn’t as skeptical, remaining thoughtful instead. For a police officer, nobody was beyond suspicion. “Did she mention why?”

“You’re not believing this, right? She’s a pop star and Ymir’s breadwinner! Why would she kill Wilson?” Johan said, remaining obstinate.

“She’s Mallory Cotillard’s friend and near sister. They grew up in the same orphanage. She blames Ymir—and me—for her death.”

This caught everyone’s attention. Yareli heard scratching from Anderson’s end, presumably as he took notes. She gave her friends a brief description of what had happened at the Data Pirate’s Den.

“No, this can’t be right.” Johan palmed his forehead, fighting back a headache. “It’s utter nonsense!”

“I suppose it explains why she became an idol.” While still doubtful, Rebecca seemed more open to the odd story. “As a cover?”

“It’s a plausible explanation.” Anderson paused before uttering a curse. “Sorry, but I need to cut this meeting short. I’m getting a call from work. I’ll look into this. Thanks for the lead, Ilma.”

Moments later, the detective hung up. The room broke into a buzz of chatter, debating the facts Yareli had presented.

“I told you she was no good, Johan,” Samuel said, not hiding his smug satisfaction. “Terrible music, terrible soul.”

“No, the whole story is impossible! She must be an impersonator. It’s the only explanation!” Johan shot back, and the two squabbled while Rebecca meditated.

Yareli watched in amusement before pausing as someone placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Yareli?” Gramps asked, still using the name he’d given her ages ago. It brought Yareli an odd comfort. “You’ve suffered quite an ordeal.”

“I’m fine. I’d hoped to put Mallory’s passing behind me, but I suppose that was naïve.” While it had been a terrible accident, it did little to assuage her guilt.

“Death hurts people. Humans aren’t islands. Their lives touch many others, and loss diminishes everyone,” Gramps’ voice held an inner pain, knowing death’s sting all too well from his long years. “Worse is when a party feels wronged and demands vengeance. Some people allow it to turn them into monsters.”

“I’ll stop her. She’s a cold-blooded murderer,” Yareli said with feeling. “We had our differences, but Wilson was my father’s dear friend. He deserves justice.”

Her second father nodded, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Your father has his faults, but he raised a wonderful young woman.”

“Ah, thanks.” If Yareli had cheeks, they’d be on fire right now. “But I do have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“My sword got destroyed.” Yareli winced, recalling how she’d lost it in the remains of the Data Pirate’s Den. If it hadn’t been melted, tons of rubble had buried it. It’d be difficult to retrieve, regardless.

Gramps stroked his smooth, wrinkled chin. “Is that right? I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m a lot weaker without it.” It’d make her fight with Hel pathetically one-sided.

Yareli pondered Johan’s sword, briefly considering going to the Ophion president for help—an idea she dismissed as soon as it formed. She refused to run to that sleazeball with her tail between her legs.

The older man muttered to himself and pulled himself into his favorite chair, tapping at his ancient computer.

Speaking of Johan… Yareli dreaded this conversation, but they needed to resolve the issue, regardless of the outcome.

“Johan, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure.” The Jotnar gave the fakest smile Yareli had ever seen. They exited Gramps’s shop for a back alley.

“So, what’s up?” Johan asked, his tone light.

“Quit the BS. You know what’s up. You’ve been working for Simensen behind my back this entire time. That’s why he has a Ragnadriver!”

For a moment, Yareli feared he’d offer some lame excuse. Instead, he nodded, shamefaced. “You’re right. He’s the one who hired us for that first job in the secret Ymir lab.”

“Well?”

“Well, what? I’m sorry for lying to you, but he was paying us. Unlike some people, we needed bread to eat.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Yareli asked, her temper reaching a boiling point.

“None of us Jotnar were born rich like you, Ilma. Some of us needed to dirty our hands to survive!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yareli said, refusing to budge. “You gave dangerous technology to a slimeball like Simensen! Do you even consider the consequences?”

“That’s why I hesitated to tell you. I knew you’d get all moral on me.”

“Because I’m right.”

“Spoiled little princess.” Johan ground his teeth together. “You rich people are all the same. You don’t know what it’s like pulling yourself from the gutter! Morals mean little when you’re trying to survive.”

“No, it matters more than ever!”

“And why are you complaining?” Johan gestured toward the sword Simensen gave him. “It worked out in the end. Didn’t Simensen save your sorry behind? Hm?”

“It still isn’t right.” It was Yareli’s turn to grind her teeth together.

“Whatever,” Johan said, jerking his head away.

“Whatever.” Yareli’s vision went red, and she stomped away, not wanting to argue any further. She needed to get away. 

After returning to her room for another biker helmet, she rode off on her motorcycle. After its terrible wound, Bifrost’s streets had mostly returned to normal. Most roads were clear of debris from the previous day’s riots, and people had resumed their daily routines. Yet, Yareli still sensed an odd tension in the air, putting everyone on edge.

“What’s with today?” It was barely past dawn, and the day had already proved a miserable one. Yareli spent the next hour racing across Bifrost’s downtown streets to clear her head.

“Did I overreact?” 

The Jotnar possessed a very different view of the world. From the scattered details she’d learned of Johan’s past, it hadn’t been a happy one. He’d abandoned everything to find a new life in Bifrost. After some dead-end jobs, he’d ended up in a gang. While she couldn’t condone his actions, Yareli supposed she could understand them. Still, it rankled her that Johan had lied to her. If he apologized, maybe she’d find it in her heart to forgive him.

---

“Doctor Halvorsen is a certifiable genius!” Doctor Nomikos announced for the umpteenth time. Once he’d learned about the duplicate Ilma, Nomikos couldn’t stop gushing about the achievement. ID-1 was so human-like, it had fooled everyone.

“Just imagine the implications,” Nomikos continued. “With little effort, human beings can upload their consciousness to robot duplicates and live forever!”

“Yes, Doctor,” Lauper replied, keeping a hold on her temper. “First, can we focus on resurrecting our president?” She had little desire to live forever. All she cared about was bringing her friend back and creating the peaceful world her daughter Rebecca deserved.

“Right.” Nomikos coughed, fiddling with his computer console.

Wires grew from Surtur’s computer bank, connecting to a blank-faced dummy sitting on a nearby chair. Its limbs were gangly, with exposed metal joints. On the surface, it barely seemed different from a mannequin you’d find in a clothing store window.

While Lauper didn’t understand the science, the dummy contained nanomachines that would duplicate muscle, skin, and fat to specified instructions. In short, it would recreate Mark Wilson’s body once they inserted his personality.

In theory, this should restore their president like nothing had ever happened. They were lucky that Doctor Halvorsen had a prototype in storage. Otherwise, it’d have taken months to construct a dummy body. While this version had slight bugs that the Ilma copy didn’t possess, it otherwise suited their needs.

“Ah, so here you are, Jessica,” a newcomer said. “I’ve been trying to contact you for the last three hours.”

“Oh, Szymon, I didn’t realize you’d arrived in Bifrost already.”

Ymir’s vice president was smooth-faced, with handsome dark features and in his early middle years. While his dazzling, piercing blue eyes showed unbridled kindness, Lauper also knew they hid a keen shrewdness. Though a decent man, Ymir’s vice president was more an opportunist than a visionary like their late president, Wilson.

“I arrived an hour ago. They told me you were here.” Gertruda gazed around the laboratory with equal parts wonderment and incredulity. “It seems you’ve been busy.”

“Someone has to continue the work after the president’s passing.” Lauper kept her expression stony, restraining her whirling emotions. “With Surtur, we can restore President Wilson back to life.”

“I heard rumblings of an attack on the president’s life. There are news crews swarming outside demanding answers,” Gertruda replied. “Imagine if they saw this. You can’t be serious. Wilson is dead. We should focus on the future, not some crazy science experiment.”

Lauper gazed away. “It needs to be done.”

“Have you been sleeping?” Gertruda’s face scrunched with concern. “You don’t look yourself, no offense. You’re not thinking straight. Stop the experiment and get some rest. We can discuss this matter when you’re fresh.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Doctor Nomikos said, his voice incredulous. “We’re on the brink of the breakthrough of the century—no, the millennia!”

“You’ve both had a rough day. President Wilson’s death stung me too,” Gertruda replied. “But bringing him back is beyond a long shot.”

“We have the data from his brain. While slightly incomplete, it should be enough to reconstruct his mind,” Doctor Nomikos said. “Fenrir’s mind was in worse condition, and her memories returned in full!”

“And another thing—you still haven’t explained what this Fenrir business is about.” Gertruda didn’t hide his annoyance. “Apparently, much has happened since I left Bifrost.”

It was true. Lauper was exhausted, so focused on restoring Wilson that she’d forgone sleep or food. Was Gertruda right? Was she only pursuing this impossible goal out of desperate grief, having lost all perspective?

“You’re right, as usual, Szymon.” Lauper paused, noting the dirty look Doctor Nomikos gave her. “But we have to at least try. Give us five minutes, and we’ll go for a late breakfast. I want to talk with Wilson—see what remains of his mind.”

“Okay.” While unhappy, Gertruda didn’t argue. “Do your experiment.”

“The transfer is ready—beginning now.” Nomikos pressed a control console, and everyone watched the robot body for any sign of movement. Several minutes passed in utter silence as they waited with bated breath.

Then, a miracle happened.

The skin of the doll shifted. It coalesced, taking shape into a vague facsimile of a human face. Flabby flesh filled its skeletal body, strengthening into hardened muscle from years of avid boxing. Before the figure’s face had finished sculpting, its eyes shot open. The irises blazed an almost radiant orange. Lauper’s heart skipped a beat as Copy Wilson surveyed the room.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

The face finally solidified into Wilson’s proper features, but Lauper frowned when she heard his voice. It contained a certain mechanical quality.

“What’s wrong with his voice?” Lauper asked. “Why are his eyes orange? That wasn’t Wilson’s eye color.”

Nomikos tensed and grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Remember, this was a prototype. It remained unused because it didn’t match Halvorsen’s specifications to revive his daughter.”

Great. Still, these were problems easy enough to bypass.

“Hello, Mark. It’s me, Jessica. Do you recognize me?”

“And of course, surely you recognize me—your old friend Szymon?” Gertruda asked, stepping next to her.

Lauper’s heart seized as Wilson stared at her, unsure if she found recognition there. The tension hung like a thick fog, refusing to lift. The further she searched Wilson’s eyes, the less humanity she could find. Finally, Wilson spoke.

“Error. You are unknown to me.” Wilson’s eyes passed over her like she didn’t matter. “You never answered my question.”

“We’re in the Surtur server room, Mark. This might be a little confusing, but you’ve suffered a terrible accident,” Lauper said, keeping her voice steady and compassionate. “Your memories might be a little jumbled.”

“Yeah, the original transfer of your memories wasn’t complete, but this shouldn’t be an issue,” Doctor Nomikos added.

“You are in error,” Wilson said.

Lauper backed away in fright as the straps holding the duplicate in place burst into flame. They melted into plastic goop. Wilson stood up, showing not a hint of emotion. He didn’t even twitch when molten plastic dripped across his naked chest.

“I am not incomplete. My purpose is known. You are also in error about my name. I am Surtur, the Flame-Bringer.”

Wilson extended a hand, and flame gathered around his palm.

Doctor Nomikos screamed as his lab coat caught fire. He howled and rolled, trying to put himself out. Lauper gasped in horror and disgust as the scientist’s skin charred and blistered before her eyes. His flaming body ceased all movement—even breathing.

“Doctor!”

What was happening? She didn’t protest as Gertruda pulled her from the room. In his hand was his phone, yelling for reinforcements.

Wilson continued to stand in place, examining his new body. He flexed his fingers, testing its properties, and flame danced between them.

When he glanced over Doctor Nomikos’s burned-out corpse, the Copy Wilson showed his first smile—satisfied with his handiwork. It contained no emotion, only the cold logic that he had completed his task.

Wilson extended his arms, revealing his power and majesty. The room’s temperature became scorching. Unable to bear the heat any longer, Surtur’s servers exploded. The lights failed next, casting the room in darkness.

Only Wilson’s form remained illuminated, glowing with radiant energy—mighty and terrible.

“And now,” he declared, “Ragnarök shall begin.”

Oh my God. What have we done?

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 23

Rain pattered against Yareli’s helmet as she crept through the underbrush. She froze, unmoving, as a heavyset man passed by. Under his shades, the dark-suited man scanned his surroundings, eyes peeled for intruders. Pleased at discovering no one, he continued forward, maintaining his constant vigilance. Yareli waited for several beats before sneaking forward.

While Yareli had the power to break in unimpeded, she preferred stealth and cunning over such brutish tactics. Rebecca’s hacking program made quick work of the electronic lock guarding a side door, allowing Yareli to slip inside unnoticed.

Rebecca’s name brought a black pit to her chest. The hacker girl had been reluctant to help her locate Simensen’s residence. It’d been a subtle resistance, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed. As she suspected, Rebecca had also been hiding something. Were all the Jotnar involved in Johan’s deception?

The home stunk of wealth and power, yet also felt strangely aged. Not only the furniture and art pieces, but the building itself. It reminded Yareli of architecture she’d seen in movies from the 1970s. The furnishings seemed to match her theory. Had Simensen had the house moved from the mainland to Bifrost? What a ridiculous waste of money.

A light coming from a far room caught her attention. A strange sight, considering the hour. Hadn’t Simensen gotten injured in the battle against Ymir? Why wasn’t he asleep, resting? Sensing a trap, Yareli kept her steps light, ready to flee if any trouble reared its ugly head.

On its hinges, the door swung silently into a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, but Yareli noticed something. Unlike her father’s study, where every book was well-used and referenced, these tomes seemed to exist because books were found in studies.

The house’s owner was lounging on a sitting couch, reading from a tablet, scanning some social media sites. Yareli froze as the man spoke.

“Ah, so you’ve come to visit, Fenrir?” Simensen said, attention not rising from his tablet. Yareli froze as a gun pressed against the back of her helmet. Where the hell had he come from? Why hadn’t her fighter’s instincts sensed the bodyguard coming?

“Now, now. James, be nice to our guest,” Simensen said, finally looking toward Yareli and putting aside his pad. “I’ve been eagerly awaiting this meeting for some time.”

James relented, withdrawing his weapon. But he glowered at Yareli, making it obvious what would happen if she threatened his employer.

“How did you know I was coming?”

“I could taste it in the air,” Simensen said, laughing at his own joke. “Besides, I figured you’d be around soon enough. You’ve always been impatient, impulsive.”

“What now? Are you going to stick me in some lab?” Yareli eyed the bodyguard, James, sizing him up. Her instincts screamed the large man would be a formidable foe.

“No, though I won’t deny that you fascinate me,” Simensen replied. “A unique specimen unlike anything else on the planet. I’d rather be allies.”

“No,” Yareli answered automatically.

“No? I assure you I mean you no harm.” Simensen wore an amiable smile on his handsome face. “We both oppose Ymir. I certainly don’t desire Wilson’s Ragnarök taking place any more than you do.”

Yareli studied the man’s features, getting the Ophion president’s measure. She only found ambition, self-interest, and half-truths.

“Glad to hear it. Just don’t get in my way, okay?”

“Stubborn, obstinate.” Simensen gave a dramatic sigh. “You really are Valter Halvorsen’s daughter. Don’t be so quick to dismiss my offer. We can help each other. I can make you stronger. I have the resources.”

“Like Johan’s sword?” Yareli said, throwing out a random guess. Simensen’s smile confirmed her worst suspicions.

“Exactly! We’re rather proud of that piece of equipment.”

Yareli simmered with rage, recalling the time she’d sensed Johan fiddling with her Ragnadriver when he’d assumed her too distracted by her painting. Yareli had presumed he’d only been curious about the device, too embarrassed to ask for permission. The reality was painful, forming a black pit in her heart. That’s how Ophion had gotten their grubby hands on a Ragnadriver.

“I’m not interested,” Yareli’s tone conveyed a sense of finality. “I work alone.”

“Shame.” While disappointed, Simensen sounded unsurprised. “But the offer is always open. I’m not your enemy, Ilma. I have no objections to working with you against Ymir’s tricks.”

Not bothering to respond, Yareli pushed past several heavies, leaving the room. While displeased by her blatant disrespect, the guards allowed her to pass. The rain had finally ceased as she left Simensen’s mansion. While the storm outside had ceased, inwardly, Yareli was a maelstrom of emotions. Her friends had been spying on her for Simensen. More impossible tears blinded her vision, and she slammed a fist against the alley’s wall before slumping against it.

What did this mean? Were the Jotnar not really her friends? Had they deceived her to get close to her secrets? She desperately wanted to confront Johan with these questions. Yet, Yareli found herself paralyzed, too fearful of the answers.

“Damn, I need a drink.” If she were a real girl, she’d get wasted and forget about her woes in blissful drunkenness. Unfortunately, nothing could dull the festering pain and loneliness consuming her from within. “I’m so pathetic.”

“Ilma?”

Yareli jerked to attention and cursed herself for getting careless. Standing at the alley’s edge was a Valkyrie dressed in her winged armor.

“What do you want?” Yareli readied her Uhyre key, prepared to fight her way free.

“I’m not here to fight.” The Valkyrie lifted two placating hands, then removed her helmet. It was the taller one, Abbey.

“What do you want, then?” Yareli hadn’t forgotten about Halvorsen’s death squad or their many heated battles.

Abbey remained silent for several moments, eyeing Yareli with curiosity. And also sympathy?

“You look upset. Do you want someone to talk to?”

“Of course I’m upset! My whole life is beyond messed up. I just learned that my friends are working for that creep!” Yareli pointed an accusatory finger toward Simensen’s manor. “And I can’t believe I was naïve enough to assume regaining my memories would make me happy. It’s only made things worse! Why am I even telling you this? You don’t care!”

“That’s rough,” Abbey replied with surprising sympathy. The Valkyrie sat beside her in the dirty, ugly, vandalized alleyway. They sat in silence for several moments before Abbey finally spoke.

“It surprises me how human you are. You’re a talking skeleton, yet very much a person. The doctor is wrong about you. You aren’t a shell wearing his daughter’s memories. You’re the real deal.”

“Fat good that does me.” It surprised Yareli how comfortable she was getting around the Valkyrie. Was she that desperate for a sympathetic ear she’d turn to a mortal enemy?

“Let’s get out of this dirty alley,” Abbey said, standing up. “You may not have a nose, but this place smells like piss. There’s a bar nearby with cool retro arcade games. It’s a little noisy, but beats staying here.”

“I know the place. Aren’t you on the job here to kill me?”

“I’m only on surveillance duty.” Abbey only offered a shrug. “That’s what I’m doing now.”

For a moment, Yareli considered the possibility it might be a trap. Trap or not, it was better than being alone, wallowing in self-pity. “Alright, I’ll take you on that offer.”

“I just realized that Ilma, the robot one, never spoke about her childhood. It never occurred to me, it might not exist,” Abbey said as they exited the alley.

“I’m still stunned she’s a robot. I can’t believe Father tried to replace me with that thing.” Yareli’s voice held a great deal of derision toward her doppelgänger.

Abbey considered the statement for several long moments before shaking her head. “I’m not convinced that’s true. I wonder if even the doctor knows why he created ID-01. But enough of that. Tell me about your high school days. Is it true you attended Odin Academy? That’s one of the world’s ritziest private schools!”

“Yeah, Father always wanted the best for me.” If Yareli could roll her eyes, she would. “He refused to get it through his thick skull that I’m not the most academically inclined person in the world. I wanted to attend this cool art school in Germany, but no.”

“You like art?” Abbey asked, genuinely curious.

“Love it. I’m an avid painter.” As they headed toward the bar, Yareli found she liked this girl. Abbey was an excellent listener.

---

“Hydro Thunder!” an excitable voice shouted as Yareli passed. Other games cried for attention, creating a cacophony of noise that grated the ears. People yelled to be heard over the surrounding racket, adding to the general noisiness. A typical bar, in Yareli’s opinion. As usual, her curious appearance drew people’s attention. It wasn’t hard to notice someone wearing a paint-stained bodysuit and a helmet indoors. But she ignored their stares, joining Abbey as they approached the bartender.

“A beer, please.” The Valkyrie wore a leather jacket and tattered jeans, her hair braided behind her back. She’d deposited her armor in a nearby Ymir safehouse.

“You, miss?” the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yareli opened her mouth, but Abbey beat her to the punch. “Actually, make it two beers.”

“Right away.” The bartender retreated to dispense their drinks.

“I’m a skeleton. I can’t drink anything.” Despite her condition, Yareli still craved food, especially since she regained her memories. She was helpless to alleviate these cravings, however—stuck with eternal longing for something unobtainable.

“It’s symbolic.”

“Ah.”

“When I fought in the MMA circuit, I’d always share a drink with my opponent after a fight. To show there weren’t any hard feelings. It was just a gig, after all. And I enjoy chatting with my opponents. It disappointed me I couldn’t repeat the ritual with you.”

The bartender returned with two foaming mugs and slapped them on the counter. Abbey took a sip and nodded in approval. The person behind the counter eyed Yareli, wondering why she wasn’t reaching for her order.

He continued giving the helmeted woman odd stares as Abbey waved him away. “You’ve always interested me. I was like, what’s your deal? Why are you fighting so hard against Ymir? Why become a Kamen Rider? Justice? It didn’t quite click with me.”

“No, I was fighting to learn my identity. Can you imagine? Awaking with nothing in your head? Not knowing who you are? My only clue was my Uhyre Key.”

“Tough, I imagine.”

“My life is beyond screwed, but at least I solved my memory problem. Still, I can’t believe my father thought it was a bright idea to create a robot duplicate of me! Who does that?”

“Crazy, right? Though it didn’t surprise me that the other Ilma was actually a robot duplicate.”

“Really?”

“Something about the doctor’s relationship with the copy Ilma didn’t gel with me. Like, they didn’t feel like father and daughter, if that makes any sense. But you two—definitely father and daughter. It reminds me of my quarrels with my brother, Jamie.”

“Is he also a skeleton?” Yareli asked, earning a hearty laugh from her companion.

“We seem to do nothing but fight. I only stole the Uhyre Key prototype to annoy him.” Some youths, when they defy their parents, get regretful tattoos, date bad boys, or engage in other foolish youthful antics. Yareli, however, got turned into a skeleton.

“Ilma.” Abbey paused, weighing her new words. “The doctor loves you—needs you. Give him time. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Right.” But Yareli remained conflicted about allowing her father back into her life. The rage at his actions kept boiling to the surface, unbidden.

“Why am I getting life advice from an enemy?” Yareli thought.

“No way, it can’t be her!” someone yelled, interrupting Yareli’s brooding. The exclamation was fanatic, almost hysterical with joy. Yareli’s eyes darted around to locate the source of the commotion.

“No way!” Abbey perked up, and a figure pushed through the crowd. The girl was wearing an elaborate cream-colored, tight-fitting dress, stylishly adorned with ribbons. Perched on her head was a jaunty hat that matched the color of her dress, though it only covered half of her head.

“Isn’t that Reine, the idol?” Yareli said, baffled that such a famous person would visit a grubby dive bar like the Data Pirate’s Den. Did she enjoy retro games? From the patrons’ reactions, she doubted the idol visited the bar often.

“Shame Johan isn’t here. He’d have a heart attack.” She wasn’t as thrilled to see the idol. Her music was okay, but it wasn’t really her jam. She preferred metal. Besides, Reine was only a carefully disguised marketing tool.

People were crowding around, vying for the idol’s attention. But Reine only seemed to notice Yareli. Unsurprisingly, she supposed. Even before her accident, she stood out in crowds.

“She’s in the Valkyrie program.” Abbey waved, encouraging Reine to come closer. “It’s a publicity stunt, but she is still an honored member. She must have gotten my texts. I invited the other Valkyries to join us. Don’t worry. It’s only to go bar hopping. Besides, we only have a single working set of Valkyrie armor left between us.”

Ah! That explains everything. Still, Yareli couldn’t shake the feeling the idol was staring at her.

“You got here fast. I only sent the message five minutes ago.” Abbey gestured to the chair next to her. “Sit down, order whatever you want. The first drink is on me.”

“You saved me a lot of time searching for you.” Was that contempt behind Reine’s eyes? “This makes everything so much simpler.”

“Sorry?” Yareli blinked and froze as the idol withdrew a weapon from her purse. The entire room went quiet.

“Sorry, Abbey, but I’m starting a fight despite your explicit orders not to,” Reine said, wearing a devilish smile. “Fenrir and I have history.”

Is that a Ragnadriver?!

“Reine, what are you doing?” Abbey kept her voice calm, trying to de-escalate the situation.

Without warning, Reine opened fire. While unprepared for the sudden attack, Yareli’s instincts saved her from getting a hole burned through her chest. The bottles behind the bar exploded from the intense heat. A hole in the wall behind Yareli exposed a half-burning storeroom. People screamed as they scrambled to safety.

“Reine, what the hell are you doing?” Abbey said, scrambling to her feet.

“You’re fast. Still, you’re injured after your fight with the late president.” Reine withdrew an Uhyre Key adorned with a skull. “You should be easy pickings, even if I’m still learning about my new powers. Henshin.”

Late president? Another Kamen Rider? Yareli didn’t know why the idol hated her, but she was prepared to fight. She strapped her Ragnadriver across her waist, Uhyre Key ready. “Henshin.”

People scrambled toward the exits as the two combatants faced off. Reine allowed them to leave, not attacking until the room cleared. After a moment of hesitation, Abbey fled, useless without her armor.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Reine said behind her half-skull mask. “Call me Kamen Rider Hel.”

“What do you want? Why are you attacking me?”

“This is for Mallory. You killed her, remember?” Hel replied, making Yareli jerk in surprise.

Mallory? Yareli puzzled over the mystery. Did the girl say she grew up in an orphanage in France?

Wait, Reine? It couldn’t be. Yes, the girl matched someone she’d seen in a photo Mallory carried around. Years had changed her, but the resemblance was obvious.

Fiery pain erupted in Yareli’s chest as Hel opened fire, taking advantage of her musings. She dodged the next barrage, and the fire caused by Reine’s previous shots spread further.

“Wait, it was an accident, Reine. I remember you. Mallory mentioned you once or twice.”

“That’s right. Though we weren’t sisters by blood, she was still my family, regardless.” A cruel smile appeared in Reine’s voice. “I’m going to enjoy this. You stole the only thing in this hateable world I cared about.”

Yareli’s hand moved to unsheathe her weapon, but a swift shot from Hel blew it from her grip before she could bring it to bear. It slid across the room, out of reach behind a burning table.

“And only fire and death can make amends for it. Die.”