"Quick! The news!" Yareli yelled at Rebecca.
"What's happening?" Samuel stood straight, catching the tension in his friend's tone.
"On it!" Rebecca opened Bifrost National News' webpage on her laptop, gasping when she caught the headline.
"The Niflhel again!" Samuel swore under his breath. "Are they insane?!"
The front page showed a bloodbath, displaying a blurry picture of monstrous figures rampaging through the district. It was utter chaos. Entire sections of Bifrost were burning. Worse were the bodies. They littered the streets—many of them the mangled remains of police officers. Rebecca opened the live news feed; a frightened reporter gripped her microphone tight as she spoke.
"The monsters who call themselves the Niflhel are still engaging the police, heedless of the damage they might cause. Estimates are still vague, but it is reported at least a hundred people have been killed or injured in this conflict, and that number is expected to rise. The police urge Bifrost citizens to stay in their homes. Mayor Andreassen has declared martial law until…" The reporter froze in fright as a skeletal, ape-like creature with insanely long arms came into view.
A devilish grin grew across the monster's face as it eyed the reporter and her crew. With one arm, it hefted a nearby parked car with ease. "Perfect. I love a good audience. How about I show the viewers at home why Bifrost belongs to the Niflhel now?"
"Run for—" But the reporter was too slow. The camera went dead as the monster hurled his projectile with frightening speed. They never had a chance. The feed was cut off, replaced with the news station's logo.
"Oh my God," Rebecca said, stunned. Drawn by the commotion, Alex abandoned her work, curious about the excitement. The bar owner's usual glib attitude vanished, watching the carnage with wide-eyed horror.
"They're tearing the police department apart to rescue their friends," Anderson said over the phone. "We've placed them somewhere safe, but these maniacs will find them eventually."
"I'll be right there," Yareli replied, her voice icy. They'd been so focused on Ymir, they'd completely ignored the more dangerous threat. Hundreds of people were dying senselessly because of her mistake. She hadn't taken the gang seriously enough.
"What? What can she do?" Alex asked, bewildered.
Rebecca smirked. "She's cool. Yareli's a superhero. If anyone can stop this, it's her."
Samuel opened his phone, tapping away at its keys. "Not alone, she won't. Get going. I'll make sure Johan follows behind shortly."
"What about you guys?" Yareli asked.
"We'll coordinate things here, right?" Rebecca jostled the stunned bar owner with her elbow. Alex stared at the news feed, her eyes wide and fearful. This situation had become much too real for her.
"Don't worry, we can take care of ourselves." Samuel placed his pistol on the desk.
"Stay safe." Yareli barged out the back door, heading toward Rebecca's vehicle. In the distance, she spotted the smoke from nearby burning buildings.
"Where's the police HQ again?" While Yareli had an excellent memory of Bifrost's streets, she couldn't afford to make mistakes with people's lives in danger.
"Hellum Street, by the corner of 15th," Anderson replied.
Yareli revved her engine, riding down the ramp from Rebecca's vehicle. After getting her bearings, she drove off toward the danger.
"I forgot to ask. You sound hurt. Are you okay?" Yareli asked, concerned.
"Don't drive and talk on your phone at the same time," Anderson said, chastising her. "I'll manage. I took a blow to the ribs from this wolf creature, but otherwise, I'm alright. We're locked secure in the station's basement. We have some volunteer ex-military helping divert the monsters' attention until the real army arrives to help, but they can't hold out forever."
"Okay, I'll be there soon." Yareli switched off her phone, returning it to her suit pocket. Anderson was right. It was a dumb idea to drive while talking on the phone.
After turning another corner, Yareli stopped her bike, swearing under her breath. The scene before her was utter pandemonium. In the chaos, rioting and looting had broken out, causing untold damage to the city. Storefronts that once displayed the latest in fashion and technology were a ruined wreck, their windows broken and their goods pilfered. Many cars sat abandoned, their owners fleeing to safety.
While mostly picked clean, some rioters still lingered for the remaining spoils. The chaos on the road made traversing by bike a tricky prospect. Should she abandon her ride and continue on foot?
"No way! I'm not leaving it for someone to put their grimy paws on it." While this seemed selfish, Yareli cherished her motorcycle, unwilling to lose it.
There wasn't any choice. She had to continue forward. Yareli revved her engine, finding a somewhat reasonable path within a maze of abandoned cars and trash. There wasn't time to search for a clearer street. She drove onto the sidewalk, swerving around some broken furniture that someone had thrown into the street.
---
"Doctor, what's the situation?" President Wilson watched the news with barely controlled fury, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his hand.
"The Valkyries have suffered a few injuries, but nothing they can't handle," Halvorsen said over speaker. Behind the scientist's voice, Wilson heard the unmistakable I told you so. He'd never approved of the Angra Armlets, especially after Mallory Cotillard's tragic accident. Despite the situation, Wilson still believed in the project, recalling the power he'd possessed in his monster form. It called to him, begging to be used.
"Rendezvous at the police station. Most of the Niflhel have gathered there." A coordinated assault was their best chance. Wilson wanted this solved before the army arrived.
"Understood," Halvorsen replied, grimacing. "If only the second Rangadriver was finished. It still requires more time."
"Don't worry; I plan to handle this situation." Wilson would be damned if he allowed his technology to be used for such pointless slaughter.
"Um, sir. Bad news. Prime Minister Evensen is on the phone demanding answers. He seems to assume this is our fault." Unlike her usual self, the Chief Strategy Officer seemed out of sorts, glancing at her phone nervously every few seconds. It wasn't surprising. Her daughter Rebecca was somewhere in Bifrost amidst the chaos, only a vague text proving that she was safe. Despite being childless, he could sympathize.
"Tell him it's being handled," Wilson snapped, not wanting to bother to talk to the fool with more pressing concerns to consider.
Despite the situation, Lauper offered him a weak smile. "I suppose once we put Ragnarök into motion, we won't need him anymore."
"No, I'll talk to him." They still needed the fool. Best not to burn bridges yet. Still, Wilson felt so helpless. He should be out there fighting, not placating politicians. With his key, he'd destroy the Niflhel in moments.
"I'll direct the line to your office," Lauper said, peering at her phone again and cursing when her text message remained unanswered.
"Those monsters are hurting the people of my city. Jessica shouldn't fear for her child's life. Rebecca should be sleeping safely, knowing Ymir is there to protect her," Wilson thought. There was an audible snap from where he'd gripped his table, a deep line running across its surface.
"Sir." Dino waltzed into his office, followed by a man Wilson didn't recognize. "I've gathered all the men I could—ten men with Angra Armlets ready for battle."
A grimace appeared on the eye-patched man's face. "We lost almost our entire supply of armlets when Fenrir attacked the processing plant. She purposely destroyed them. There hasn't been time to restart production. It was difficult finding usable ones."
"Regrettable, but we'll make do," Wilson replied. "The Niflhel wield the device without understanding its dangers and abilities."
Dino's eyes lit with understanding. "They don't know what forces they're playing with. With luck, they won't be as powerful as a more experienced user like me."
"They're drunk on their own power." Wilson stood next to his subordinate. "How about we show them their folly?"
"Sir, you're not thinking about going along?" Lauper asked, concerned. "What about your call with the Prime Minister?"
"Tell Mats I'll show him why Bifrost is safe in Ymir's hands." Wilson pulled out his Uhyre key. "Don't worry, Lauper. I'll make sure your daughter is safe. The carnage ends now." Despite her reservations, his Chief Strategy Officer gave a grateful nod.
"Okay, if you insist." While uncomfortable with the idea, Dino wouldn't argue. "Anyway, what if we run into Fenrir? She's probably out there, playing hero."
Wilson closed his eyes, giving the matter some thought. "Leave her alone. I want this incident dealt with as quickly as possible. Afterward, we can focus on her capture." He loathed precipitating unprofitable fights and refused to hamstring his forces for some petty grudge. Compared to the Niflhel, Fenrir was a minor problem.
"Good luck out there." Again, Lauper checked her phone without thinking, fidgeting to hide her nervousness.
President Wilson exited his office with Dino, already attaching an Angra Armlet to his arm. He'd show these creatures what happened to those that messed with his city.
---
"She what?" Johan cursed, grabbing a quick piece of toast from the toaster. He'd been in the middle of cooking eggs for himself when the insanity happened.
"You know Yareli," Rebecca replied from the receiver. "Besides, there wasn't time to waste."
"That girl!" Johan muttered a curse, biting into his quick breakfast. While he disliked eating toast without butter, he refused to enter battle on an empty stomach.
"Is my Angra Armlet fixed?" Johan asked, almost diving into Davidson's workroom. The battle against the Valkyries and Dino had overworked its systems, damaging several internal parts.
"One moment." Davidson nodded, retrieving the Angra Armlet from a nearby shelf. The older man watched the news with grave concern on a TV.
Much to Johan's dismay, the unit's guts were spilled out for everyone to see—a confusing tangle of wires and circuits. The older man worked quickly, however, reassembling it with surprising grace, reinserting its guts after exchanging a motherboard for another. Minutes later, Davidson placed the device in Johan's hands.
"Will it work?" Johan asked, examining the device. It still seemed a little rough around the edges, its surface scorched in some areas.
"Will it work?" Davidson gave an insulted snort. "Young man, I've been working on electronics for over forty years!"
"Okay, but isn't this technology out of your league? Ymir's stuff is beyond cutting-edge!" Johan thought, but didn't say.
"Though, it consumes more power than I'd prefer," Davidson said. "Use it sparingly. The energy unit is still faulty."
"I'll keep that in mind." Johan's heart was beating out of control. He wasn't a fighter. He talked a tough game, but he usually avoided fights. This was far beyond some random street brawl. Bifrost had become a warzone!
Still, he refused to allow those Niflhel maniacs to do whatever they pleased. While a grimy hellhole, this was his city, dammit! Much to his surprise, a limousine greeted him as he exited Gramps' shop.
"Quick, inside," Simensen's familiar voice said. "Time is short."
After some hesitation, he entered the vehicle, landing on the plush seats. "We don't have time to chat. Thanks for the ride, though. Things are crazy out there."
"Drive," Simensen commanded his bodyguard, and they drove onto a nearby road with surprising speed. "That, my friend, is something I'm aware of." The president of Ophion Industries wore a hard expression, rage flaring behind his steely gaze.
The man eyed the Armlet in Johan's hand. "Excellent. You've secured an Angra Armlet. You'll need it for the upcoming battle. Somehow, I sensed something like this would happen. I tasted it in the air. It's a good thing I've prepared."
"Prepared?"
"I've got you a little present. It should come in handy." Simensen pulled out a briefcase, presenting it to Johan.
"Thanks, you shouldn't have?" Despite the situation, Johan was still reluctant to accept Simensen's help, not knowing the man's agenda. Still, he couldn't refuse any gift that might save his life.
"You'll like it. It's based on your friend's weapon. The data from her belt was useful in constructing it. We are developing other items, but they require more time."
From the suitcase, Johan withdrew a sword. It had a sleek, jet-black blade with a wickedly sharp edge. Instead of a crossguard, it possessed a slot where someone might insert an Uhyre Key.
Johan tested the weapon in his hand, liking the blade's weight. While he'd never wielded a sword before, he supposed it couldn't be any worse than his skill with a handgun. It felt right in his hand.
"Thanks. Considering the battle ahead, I'll need it." While Johan wasn't sure how to explain the weapon's existence to Yareli, he'd devise something.
The limo screeched to a halt, and Simensen's hulking bodyguard opened the door for Johan. Before him was a street ravaged by riots. Overturned cars blocked the way, making continuing further impossible.
"I'm afraid this is where we must depart," Simensen said. "Good luck out there. Bifrost is counting on you."
"No pressure." Johan withdrew the scabbard from the suitcase and attached it to his back. After sheathing his new sword, he offered his benefactor a respectful nod. He dashed into the street, dodging around cars and debris. His talk with Simensen left him conflicted. While he appreciated the help, the Jotnar's actions increased his company's power. It filled him with more doubts.
It doesn't matter. He's paying you, and that's what matters. Boss always said questions were unnecessary. We do the job, that's it. He slowed his steps, coming to a halt. And that's what likely got the Boss killed.
"What am I doing? I'm no hero!" Johan thought. He'd joined the Jotnar to get away from his terrible stepfather. His life had turned rotten after his mother died. He'd joined the Boss's gang for the money and to make himself a new life—not to battle actual monsters!
But Yareli was counting on him to watch her back. While no hero, Johan could fight for a friend. From his best estimate, he figured the police station was five blocks away. But it was slowing going, his nose wrinkling as he navigated around a burning building. It'd once been a nursery before someone had set it on fire. He turned a street corner and stopped as two rough men greeted him.
"Well, well. If it isn't Johan." One of the Niflhel said. On both thugs' arms were Angra Armlets. Much to the Jotnar's relief, neither man had transformed yet. They'd been stuffing jewelry from a nearby store into a bag, diamond necklaces glittering in their hands. Johan quickly turned away from the men, hiding his armlet under his sleeve. Much to his relief, they hadn't noticed it.
"What are you doing?" Johan added a stutter to his voice, making himself seem less threatening.
"Didn't you hear? Us Niflhel owns Bifrost now! We can do whatever the heck we like!" the first Niflhel said. Wasn't his name Dillon or something?
"Yeah, we're untouchable now." The other Niflhel, Victor, puffed out his chest. The two approached closer, trying to intimidate the younger man.
Dillon smirked. "Johan, if you're smart, you'll join us."
"With the Boss gone, you're a guppy without no one to protect you." Victor's expression turned nasty. "Don't want nothing bad happening to you, right?"
"Bifrost doesn't need no more gangs." Dillon gave Johan a violent shove, driving him back. "If I were you, I'd wise up before someone gets hurt."
"Well…" Johan's voice trembled, making himself smaller.
"Speak up. I can't hear you." Dillon's smile was mocking, tilting his head closer to hear better. Then he howled in pain and staggered back, clutching his arm. Blood oozed from a deep gash, the wound almost cutting to the bone. His Angra Armlet sparked where Johan's blade had sliced through it.
"One down." Johan pulled out his Uhyre Key, and both Niflhel's eyes boggled in surprise. "This guppy is actually a shark in disguise. Terrorize!"
Victor cursed, scrambling to retrieve his key. "Terrorize!" The man transformed into some ghoulish, hideous fox-like creature. The smell from his rancid flesh made Johan gag.
Dillon fled in terror as a boar monster appeared before him, not wanting to get caught in the battle. Johan entered a fighting stance, eager to use his new weapon. It felt right in his enormous hands—almost weightless. From the approach of Victor's two other friends, he'd need every advantage.