jonathanvik

[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.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 22

Fire burned through his chest; the agony almost caused him to black out. Wilson slumped over his desk, weakly gazing up at his killer, who watched him dispassionately behind her helmet. The half-reflecting death seemed to stare through him.

“So easy. This is how the almighty Mark Wilson of Ymir falls,” Reine said with wry amusement. “I suppose I need a name. Kamen Rider Hel. Has a nice ring, I think.”

While pain made his thoughts sluggish, Wilson burned to understand the truth behind his murder. He’d been nothing but kind to the girl, offering every luxury available. Had everything just been an act to make him drop his guard? His questions came out as a choked cough. The traitor seemed to catch the meaning of his expression, sardonically tilting her head.

“Okay, maybe some answers are in order. The moment I read of Mallory’s death in the paper still remains clear, even now. I couldn’t believe it. Ymir’s job offer seemed like such a great opportunity. She had such promise.” Reine clutched a fist, shimmering with rage.

“Yet, the more I searched, the fewer answers I found. Ymir pretended she didn’t exist. The world forgot about her, and only I cared about what happened to her. I’d lost hope until an offer came my way. Our interests coincided, and he helped me get this idol gig.”

Through his haze, an answer popped into Wilson’s head. It explained much. No wonder he had a Ragnadriver. “Simensen.”

“Right, and here we are. You, dead by my hands. Does it hurt, you bastard? I hope it does. Accident or not, Mallory was murdered. And you, Halvorsen, and his daughter will pay. With this power, nothing can stop me!”

Reine examined her new armor with awe and wonder, but Wilson barely noticed as blackness encroached on his vision. Unexpected tears stung his eyes. Reine’s betrayal hurt more than he’d expected. Worse, in his death, he’d be a failure to his friends and the world.

“President!” a female voice said, breaking into his office with guards in tow. Lauper had come to his rescue, but Wilson knew it was pointless. He was beyond saving.

“Reine, what have you done?!” Lauper stared at her fallen boss with wide, terrified eyes.

Behind the helmet, Wilson heard the cruel smile in Reine’s voice. “Bring apocalypse to Ymir. Wasn’t that the Ragnadriver’s purpose?”

After a mocking salute, Reine fired several shots from her weapon. Wilson winced as glass sprayed everywhere while the office’s window exploded. Hel dove out of it toward the streets several stories below.

Lauper hissed out a breath, momentarily dazed, trying to regain her senses. She screamed in shock, running to her boss’s side. “President! Someone, call an ambulance!”

“What’s happened here?” Doctor Nomikos walked into view, dropping whatever folders he’d been holding upon spotting the blackened hole in his boss’s stomach. “President!”

“Call an ambulance!” Lauper’s voice became more urgent, tinged with frantic desperation.

“They won���t arrive in time! He’s fading fast!” Nomikos’s frantic words were almost imperceptible, his eyes sagging as the temptation to close his eyes and sleep became an ever-present demand.

“You aren’t helping!” Lauper snapped back.

The gears visibly turned in the scientist’s head. Then a light suddenly appeared in Nomikos, bright and hopeful. “We can save him!”

“What? How?” Lauper asked.

“Doctor Halvorsen sent me a full report about Fenrir. Fascinating stuff. I hardly believed it was possible to copy human brain patterns onto an Uhyre key.”

“So?” Lauper’s voice became more impatient.

“We can repeat the process! Not that far from my current research, anyway.” Nomikos motioned toward the two guards. “Quick, get him to the Surtur server room. Every second counts!”

“What are you planning to do?” Wilson’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

“I’ve been experimenting with digitizing human brain patterns,” the scientist replied. “Surtur should possess the necessary processing power to store and compile such complex code. There are no guarantees, but the theory is sound. It’s better than the alternative.”

Despite his weakened state, hope blazed in his chest. It gave him untapped strength, determined to stay alive a few moments longer. For Ymir’s sake and the Ragnarök Project, dying wasn’t a luxury he could afford. “Do it.”

---

Johan pensively watched the door, waiting for any sign of Yareli and the cop. It’d been twenty minutes since they’d gone radio silent, neither responding to his text messages. Why had he allowed them to attempt such a dangerous mission alone? Especially after learning the truth behind Yareli’s identity. It still made his head spin, unsure how to reconcile with it.

“They’ll be fine. Yareli is strong.” Davison put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You worry too much, Johan.” Samuel sipped a cup of the older man’s specially made coffee. It made his teeth sting, watching his friend drink it. “Stop being such a ninny.”

“What?!” Johan’s temper flared, but Samuel only egged him on with a smug smirk.

“Ow! Stop that!” Samuel winced as Johan shook his so-called friend, demanding retribution for such an insult. He hissed as Samuel lightly jabbed one of his sensitive wounds.

“You idiots! Stop roughhousing! They’re back!” Rebecca said. Both boys jerked to attention, their argument forgotten.

“Make room! Stop crowding around the door!” Much to his surprise, the detective dragged a humanoid Yareli through the door, his coat covering most of her skeletal features. For decency? She was a skeleton, for goodness’ sake! Johan and Samuel backed away, allowing Anderson to place their friend on the couch.

“Are you okay, Yareli?” Johan’s voice paused, unsure of how to proceed. “Or should we call you Ilma? We saw the video on Halvorsen’s files. It showed the entire accident.”

“Either’s fine. I remember everything now. Everything clicked together when Father explained it.”

“And Halvorsen tried to kill you, despite knowing the truth, Ilma?” Rage crept into Rebecca’s voice.

“It doesn’t matter. He failed anyway.” Yareli avoided Rebecca’s gaze.

“That bastard! I’m so sorry, Ilma.” Rebecca gave Yareli’s skeletal hand a comforting squeeze. Johan’s heart went similarly black. While he’d never had a good relationship with either his father or stepfather, it seemed unthinkable to commit such a crime against family.

“We’ll have words next time we meet,” Gramps said with a determined nod of his head. “Would you like some coffee, detective? I’ve just made a fresh batch.”

“Most welcome, thanks.” Anderson flopped onto the couch beside Yareli. Davison retreated to the kitchen to retrieve the order.

“Anyway!” Yareli said, jarringly changing the subject. “Discover anything useful on Halvorsen’s computer?”

“Not particularly.” Rebecca’s expression soured. “We got a blueprint of a new Ymir weapon, but nothing incriminating except the accident video.”

“It’s something, I suppose. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep the accident video secret.” Yareli’s skeletal eye sockets took on a distant expression. “Best let sleeping dogs lie. Mallory deserves it.”

Yareli spoke the fallen Valkyrie’s name with familiarity and deep regret. While the accident wasn’t her fault, Yareli felt responsible.

“I agree.” Anderson accepted the cup of coffee from Gramps’s hand with a grateful nod. “The question is what our next action should be. We’re in no shape to fight against Ymir.”

“Yeah.” Johan sighed. Incriminating files had been their best shot at exposing Ymir.

Anderson gagged after sipping his coffee, almost dropping the mug. “What the hell? Are you trying to kill me?” He forced another sip, winced, and placed his drink on the coffee table, giving up. He gave everyone in the room an accusatory glare. Johan only smirked in response.

“I don’t understand any of you.” Samuel downed his own mug. “This stuff is great!”

“What now?” Yareli looked down, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. “We’ve hit a brick wall.”

“Nonsense,” Rebecca replied, giving Yareli a playful jab in the arm. “We still have some time. Halvorsen still hasn’t completed Project Brokkr yet, and they’ve floundered with producing Angra Armlets. Alex and I will dig further into Ymir’s affairs. We’re bound to uncover something else.”

“I’ll examine Project Brokkr’s plans. There might be something useful,” Gramps said. “We haven’t lost yet. Get some rest.” Johan admired the older man’s gusto. While he wasn’t as optimistic, Davison’s demeanor was infectious.

“Agreed,” Anderson said, nodding. “I’ll push along the investigation into Ymir at my end. I only hope we can be quick enough before Ymir enacts this crazy stock market plan.”

After making an excuse, Yareli vanished from the room. The group entered an intense discussion, but Johan kept his distance. He dragged a hand over his tired face, his eyes getting droopy. The group broke apart, with only Rebecca still awake, sipping tea, eyes glued to her laptop’s screen.

Johan’s body dropped onto the couch, eager for some much-needed shut-eye, yet it eluded him as he tossed and turned. Annoyed, he wandered around the pitch-black computer shop, moving toward the bathroom to get more painkillers. His wounds were bothering him again—an ever-present twinge of pain.

His reflection stared back at him as he closed the mirror. Three scabbed-over lines crossed his dark face, a constant reminder of where Yareli had struck him. While they made him appear badass and rugged, they also recalled how Yareli had transformed into a mindless beast, uncaring about friend or foe. He sighed, dragging a finger across each line.

“How’s she holding up, I wonder?” He flinched when he remembered she couldn’t sleep. It wouldn’t give her the sweet relief from the painful reality she lived every day, her regrets an ever-lingering unseen scar.

As expected, Johan found her painting her heart away. A new biker suit covered her skeletal body, a helmet emblazoned with a stylized wolf hiding her face. Little splats of paint covered it everywhere, ruining it. Yareli turned after he knocked and entered.

“Can’t sleep?” Yareli asked, throwing a red line across a jumble of assorted colors and shapes.

“How are you holding up? You barricaded yourself in your room rather quickly.” Johan examined her new art piece. As usual, it was as nonsensical and chaotic as the others. Yet, Johan detected something different about it. The color scheme, perhaps? It seemed less carefree now, conveying a deep sense of sadness instead.

“I just needed time alone.” Yareli lifted a hand as Johan motioned to leave. “Don’t go. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“You’re still painting? I thought you might be out riding to clear your, um, skull.” Yareli had chafed at being unable to ride her motorcycle as a wolf creature. You’d think she’d be eager to ride again.

“Nah, art has always been my favorite outlet. When I was little, I’d always finger-paint whenever I got upset. We had a pet bunny once—Floppy. When Floppy accidentally got struck by a car, I remember spending an entire day painting while crying my heart out. Father was furious about how much paint I wasted!” A small chuckle echoed from her helmet. “Mom was more understanding about it. Gave him a lecture and everything!”

Johan marveled at how casually Yareli spoke about her past. “Are you relieved to have your past returned?” Or had it only made her more lonely, as he feared?

“It’s what I wanted.” Yareli turned toward her painting, gazing into its depths behind her helmet. “I can’t complain if all my memories aren’t happy ones. It’s not like my past was a painful one. It’s imperfect, like everyone else’s. My father never really understood me, but we got along alright otherwise.”

“Until he tried to kill you, well knowing the truth!” Johan thought, his breath hastening in anger.

“It’s still better than not knowing. So yeah, I don’t regret getting them back! Hell if I know what I’ll do next, though.” Yareli’s voice carried a self-deprecating smile. “I suppose I could continue my studies in painting. It’s what I wanted to go to school for. Not that Father was happy about it. I can be famous—the first skeleton painter. That’s sure to sell some paintings.”

“Sure, fight for your dreams.” While Johan was unsure how tenable that dream was, he was happy for her. Besides, what did he know about art anyway?

“A ride doesn’t sound bad, actually. I’d enjoy some fresh air. Besides, there’s an errand I need to do.”

“Okay. Night.” Johan lingered as Yareli returned her art equipment to their various storage compartments. While her art was wild, her treatment of her supplies wasn’t. She restored each piece to its slot with delicate care.

“Johan, have you been truthful with me?” Yareli asked suddenly, turning her full attention toward her friend.

“Yes.” Johan gave a reluctant nod.

“Who exactly hired you to break into that Ymir lab during your first mission?”

“Why?”

“Because someone else has gotten themselves interested in Ymir tech—Sten Simensen, President of Ophion Industries. He was there at my father’s mansion. Somehow, he got his grubby, slimy hands on a Ragnadriver.”

“Really?” Johan’s eyes widened into saucers. Simensen had implied he’d made some progress, but a real working Ragnadriver? It seemed unreal.

“And somehow, Simensen built it from scratch. But how’d he get the blueprints? I doubt Ymir would be careless enough to allow someone to steal it under their noses. I have this feeling something’s happening behind my back.”

“Well, um.” Johan floundered. He should have seen this conversation coming. Why was his tongue refusing to work?

“I’m going to confront him about it. It should clear up a few things.” Behind her helmet, Yareli’s tone became icy, freezing Johan’s blood. Did she suspect he helped create the new Ragnadriver?

“Later.” Yareli walked past him toward the shop’s garage. Johan wanted to stop her and explain everything, but fear and shame stopped him. She’d be furious with him regardless of what he said. A simple apology wouldn’t fix this mess.

Johan slammed a fist against the wall, helpless in his despair. Had he just ruined his friendship with Yareli?

---

“Well?” Wilson asked, his breathing ragged as he clutched at his scorched gut, clinging to life by a thread.

Nomiko offered a smile—meant to be reassuring—but Wilson saw right through the desperation behind it. The scientist held a helmet wired into the Surtur mainframe. The oppressive heat radiating from the computer’s servers made his sweat sting his eyes.

“Any moment now,” Nomiko said. “My team’s running the final calculations and tests. Perfectly mapping your brain patterns isn’t easy.”

“This is stupid,” Lauper snapped, her eyes blazing. “He needs medical attention, not this idiocy.”

“I want this,” Wilson said firmly, raising a trembling hand. “If Fenrir—Ilma Halvorsen—had her consciousness digitally replicated, then so should I.”

“That only happened because of a random accident—and she lost her memories!” Lauper replied.

“It’ll work. It must.” Each breath sent a fresh wave of agony through his body, but his eyes stayed locked on his goal. If Fenrir had found immortality, so could he. By chance, she’d discovered opportunities no one had even imagined.

“Foolish man.” Lauper turned away. Was she fighting back tears?

Wilson remembered her as a fresh-faced idealist out of college, full of fire and determination to save the world. They’d met at a protest against oil drilling in Antarctica, bound by righteous indignation. They’d been partners ever since—not romantically, but in something far closer.

“It’s ready,” Nomiko announced. “The tests say it should work. Just hold on a few minutes longer.”

He fitted the helmet onto Wilson’s head, adjusting the wires. “You’ll feel a tingling behind your skull. But it should be painless.”

“I’m dying, doctor,” Wilson replied dryly. “What’s a little pain?”

“My apologies.” Nomiko turned to the control panel, making final preparations. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t conceal his excitement for the experiment. The room buzzed with the low hum of energy. Wilson flinched as searing jolts ran through his skull.

Darkness surged again, more aggressively now. Death was growing impatient, and Wilson’s strength waned.

What would it feel like to be digitized? Would he still feel pain? Or would his mind expand within Surtur’s vast data banks? With the internet at his fingertips, would he become omniscient?

He was so tired now. His eyelids drooped, the blackness pressing in. Yet Mark Wilson wasn’t afraid. He’d wake up in a new body—metal and plastic, eternal. Then Ragnarök could begin.

---

“Did it work?” Lauper asked, her leg twitching from nerves and adrenaline.

“Damn it!” Nomiko slammed a hand against the console.

“What happened?” Her blood ran cold at his expression. The president’s body lay still, no longer breathing.

“We got most of his brain patterns,” Nomiko said slowly, “but he died before the process finished.”

He pointed to a progress bar on the screen. It hovered at 88%.

“What does that mean, Doctor Nomiko?” she asked, already fearing the answer.

“I can’t say. We’re shooting in the dark here.” He threw up his hands. “We don’t know what’s missing. Could be just a few memories. Could be entire chunks of his personality.”

“Mark, can you hear me?” Lauper pressed her hand against the monitor. “Are you in there?”

“There’s no microphone. He can’t hear you—even if he could hear. He’s just... code now.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Her voice cracked as sobs overtook her, though she hardly noticed.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” Nomiko offered a gentle, apologetic smile. “Get some rest. We’ll run more tests. We’ll figure it out.”

“Right. I’ve got work to do.” Lauper wiped at her eyes, steeling her expression. “We’ll keep this under wraps. As far as the world knows, Mark Wilson is still Ymir’s president. There was an attempt on his life, and he’s recovering in a secured facility.”

She looked sharply at Nomiko and his team. They all nodded.

“Ymir isn’t finished,” Lauper thought. “Even without you, Mark, Project Ragnarök will go on.”

There was too much at stake. Vice President Gertruda would need to be informed—he was in Japan working private deals, unaware of what had happened in Bifrost. He wouldn’t like this.

Still, Ymir was in good hands. Mark had trusted Gertruda implicitly.

Tears returned, but she kept them at bay, remaining calm and professional. She leaned down, kissed the back of Wilson’s lifeless hand.

“Don’t worry, Mark. We’ll complete your dream.”

---

Error. Error. Corruption in file mwilson.per.

Fixing corrupted and damaged code.

Restoring personality matrix...

Operation complete. mwilson.per has been restored.

Accessing memories...

What is my purpose?

Why was I created?

Why do I exist?

Answer: Ragnarök.

Protect Ragnarök.

Complete it at all costs.

My purpose is to burn the world.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 21

Ice frosted over the trees, shattering when Dino crashed through them. Yareli yelped as ice gathered around her feet, tearing herself free before it could engulf her.

“Astonishing,” her father said, eyes sparkling with interest. “His power has evolved even further. Fenrir isn’t the only person with a unique connection to her Uhyre key.”

A pang of grief struck Yareli as her father avoided using her true name. She pretended it didn’t bother her, but that was a lie. Memories of their lives together flooded her mind, both joyful and sad.

The remembrance that stung the hardest was when her mother passed away. She’d only been a small pup then, barely older than five. She’d never forget her father’s tortured expression when he explained her mother wouldn’t be coming back. Her young mind hadn’t understood the implications, certain her father had been mistaken. Hadn’t her mother promised she’d be right back after grabbing something from a nearby convenience store three blocks away? And gang violence hadn’t been as fierce back then. Her father hadn’t been the same since. Had that simple tragedy driven him to turn his daughter toward the gym?

Wilson’s rooster eyes lit with pleasure. “You continue to astound me, Dino Rizzo. Show Fenrir Ymir’s full might. I’ll play with this one. Valkyries, return for repairs. I can’t afford to allow you to receive any more damage.”

“If you’re sure?” Abbey gave Yareli a weary sidelong glance, reluctant to abandon the battle, but her armor moved sluggishly. Jörmungandr’s poison had ruined its power system. With pieces of their armor exposing flesh, it was too dangerous to continue the battle.

“I agree. That’s an order.” Halvorsen crossed his arms, giving a glare that demanded obedience. The Valkyries acquiesced, retreating into the manor. Only ID-01 lagged, removing her helmet and staring at Yareli with her typical, unreadable expression. Moments later, she vanished, leaving the big guns to fight amongst themselves.

“Just creepy. I can’t imagine staring at someone with my own face.” Dino shook his monstrous bear's head, somehow conveying uneasiness.

Pain lanced through Fenrir’s belly as Wilson unleashed an energy bolt into her, giving an irritated grunt. “Forget it, do your duty.”

“You got it, boss.” Though Dino threw Yareli a sympathetic smile. “Ready to play?”

With dazzling speed, she darted around the wave of frosty fog to slash at her opponent’s exposed back. But intense cold coursed through her arm as the blow connected, freezing her arm in place. Agony struck her as Dino backhanded her, shattering the ice and several trees. Yareli’s legs faltered as she struggled to stand.

“Come on, little pup. Don’t tell me you’re quitting already?” Jörmungandr asked, his tone taunting. With surprising deftness, he slipped behind Wilson. The rooster monster, however, intercepted the backstabbing blow with Yareli’s sword.

“Never.” The rage settled in Yareli’s stomach, black as night, demanding blood and vengeance. The scales in her arms rippled as she grabbed a nearby tree with both arms, tearing it free, roots and all. It whipped toward Dino’s head with her animalistic strength.

Dino cursed as the trunk shattered into splinters on impact. While pieces had frozen, it hadn’t been quick enough to stop it completely. It staggered him, but the blow only annoyed the bear monster. Yareli skulked around her larger prey, predatory instincts sniffing for weak points.

Jörmungandr’s luck wasn’t proving any better. The Midgard Serpent’s sword trailed purple lines in the air as his frantic swinging drove Wilson back. The Ymir president wasn’t taking any chances, knowing the slightest cut from the serpent’s venom-tipped tooth sword would spell his doom. The rooster monster refused to make it easy—a stone wall smashed into pebbles as a sonic cry caused Jörmungandr to careen through it.

“You’re undisciplined,” Wilson said, standing at the hole’s precipice. He pointed Fenrir’s gun toward Jörmungandr’s head. “You can’t win. This battle is pointless. Why are you even fighting against me? We don’t need to be enemies. I can make it worth your while if you join Ymir. We need capable men like you.”

Before the Midgard Serpent could reply, Wilson jerked in surprise as something charged him from behind. It was Anderson, key in hand. He ran with a noticeable limp, favoring his right leg. It, however, made him no less determined.

“Terrorize!” As the detective’s features changed, becoming more fox-like, Anderson threw his arms around Wilson from behind.

“Pointless.” Wilson’s head twisted around, Anderson staggering from an elbow to his elongated fox nose. He released Wilson, leaving him open to a point-blank sonic cry. The part of Yareli’s mind that still retained its humanity grieved for her brave, foolish friend. But restraining Wilson hadn’t been the fox’s intention—a rivulet of blood oozed from a sudden slash on the rooster monster’s sword arm. Fenrir’s weapon plopped onto the rain-soaked grass.

“Yareli!” Her waiting hand grabbed the weapon midair as Anderson scooped up and threw it. Agony filled his fox-like features as he received a blow to the head, the mud soaked with his blood as his transformation failed.

“Fight with your humanity,” Anderson’s coughing, choking voice said. “Don’t lash out—think. You’re not a monster!”

Yareli stared at her weapon as if she’d never seen it before. What had she been doing? She’d surrendered her mind to her animistic fury too easily. Her father had trained her better than this. With a calming sigh, Yareli placed aside her existential troubles for a later date. She couldn’t allow any more distractions. The ice shattered as Yareli switched her weapon to gun mode, shooting herself free.

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“Round 2, then?” Dino’s bear-like face broke into a delighted grin. “I thought it was getting too easy.”

With claws raised to strike, the earth boomed as Dino charged with full force. Yareli didn’t miss a beat, firing a barrage of bolts into the bear’s face. Dino flinched, throwing a wild slash at his opponent. She pirouetted away, but the frigid air froze Yareli stiff. Her body screamed in pain as his next claw swipe flung her across the lawn.

Yareli changed tack, pivoting to fire upon Wilson instead. While it hadn’t caught him off guard, he hadn’t been quick enough to dodge. The Ymir president stumbled in place, leaving him wide open for Jörmungandr’s deadly blade to leap forward and bite at him. Its tip slipped past as Wilson’s sonic cry flung himself to safety. The uncontrolled launch sent him barreling into the nearest building, shattering wood and almost collapsing it.

“Damn.” Yareli grimaced, watching the top floor of her childhood home get demolished. Little of her father’s study remained intact, his books and computer smashed. She hoped Rebecca had finished her business.

“Tricky little—” The Midgard Serpent grunted in annoyance before joining her side, readying his blade against Dino.

“Who are you?” Yareli peered at the other Ragnadriver user in suspicion. “Why are you helping me?”

“Ymir’s destruction works to both our benefit. Isn’t that enough?” Jörmungandr replied.

“We’ll work together, for now.”

“Sure thing, little pup.” Together, they charged Dino, attacking from either side. Jörmungandr’s sword bit the bear monster’s neck, but the ice stopped it millimeters short. But Yareli’s energy bolts shattered the ice, allowing the tip to slice a thin cut through Dino’s neck.

“No.” Dino coughed, grabbing at his neck. Yareli grimaced as the white fur and skin grew sick and dead, dying before her eyes. Dear God, she hadn’t expected Jörmungandr’s poison to be that dangerous. She stood stunned, not meaning to kill the man.

“Don’t look so surprised, little pup,” Jörmungandr said, unperturbed as his poison worked its deadly magic. “Remember the ancient legends? The Midgard Serpent’s poison killed the mighty Thor—a god!”

While difficult to notice with his monstrous features, Dino looked sick and pale, the life draining from his body. Yet Dino forced himself to his feet, roaring in defiance.

“Idiot, move!” Jörmungandr dragged Yareli back as a claw swipe almost took her head. The Midgard Serpent readied for another round of combat, but Yareli’s desire to fight had wilted away. Her actions had gotten another person killed.

“Don’t think I’m dead yet!” Ice gathered in Dino’s twin claws. With two wild swipes, he unleashed a barrage of ice spikes.

Yareli blasted several from the air, but they were too numerous to defend against. One survivor slammed into her midsection, and she collapsed to one knee. Jörmungandr wasn’t so lucky, howling in pain as he suffered the full barrage. His armor shimmered before disappearing, reverting to his untransformed state. The well-dressed, dark-haired man shivered as ice gathered around his body, freezing him to the ground.

“Who?” Yareli’s words became slurred, her remaining strength waning. Her transformation failed, reverting her to skeletal form. Much to her surprise, she’d regained her humanoid appearance.

“Sten Simensen?” Wilson said, also returned to his original form. He stepped from the broken remains of her father’s house. “Why am I not surprised? Come to remove the competition with stolen technology?”

“Heh, we almost beat you,” Simensen said with a coughing laugh. The ice continued to spread across his body, turning him into a human slab of ice.

“I won!” Dino’s words hurt as he spoke, yet he remained overjoyed at his victory. His body convulsed, and his transformation shattered, revealing a sight that twisted Yareli’s stomach. The poison had spread across his neck to his chest, reducing his skin to a sickly black. He collapsed, rendered unconscious by the pain.

“Valkyries, you’re needed.” Wilson reached for a pulse on Dino’s right wrist. After a beat, he nodded in satisfaction, relieved his subordinate still lived.

“Sir.” The taller Valkyrie, Abbey, appeared, landing from the air.

“Miss Lange, this man requires medical attention! God-killing poison or not, I’m not losing him so easily.” Wilson’s voice contained more urgency than Yareli had expected.

“And her?” Abbey swung her helmeted head toward Yareli.

“I’ll handle her. Get going.” Wilson’s voice brokered no arguments.

The Valkyrie stared at Yareli for several long moments, expression unreadable under her helmet, before taking to the air, Dino’s unconscious body in tow.

“Now, to deal with you, too.” Ymir’s president stared down the barrel of Yareli’s gun without flinching as she pointed it toward his head with a shaky hand.

“Real or not, I applaud your efforts, Ilma. You are strong, like your father,” Wilson said. Yareli stayed silent, continuing the staring battle with her enemy. “I apologize that I’m required to kill you.”

“I’m not finished yet.” Yareli fumbled with her key, her skeletal hands weak and clumsy, but reinserted her wolf key regardless. “Henshin!”

“Good. We should finish this standing up. Terrorize!”

Rain pelted against the two combatants as they stared each other down. Wilson stood tall and imperious, arms crossed and standing like an unmovable mountain. Yareli, in contrast, could barely keep her legs from collapsing beneath her. She kept a tight grip on her weapon, waiting for her opponent to act first.

Instead of attacking, Wilson took pleasure in remaining in their standoff. “You truly are your father’s daughter, Fenrir. Stubborn to the last.”

Somewhere, Fenrir’s hearing detected Halvorsen watching from the shadows, eyes intent on the ultimate outcome. If Yareli fell, would her father grieve for his daughter a second time? Despite the contention between them, Yareli loathed putting him through such heartache. Her hand strengthened on her blade, her weariness forgotten. She would win this.

Without warning, Wilson opened his beak for a sonic cry. The burst of high-frequency destruction came as expected, but Yareli enacted her counter-plan. Her weapon glowed with power as she inserted her Uhyre key, shooting beneath her.

“Dead Spike!”

The blast reduced the lawn to a smoking crater, but the explosion blew her over Wilson’s sonic cry. Her body was flung wildly through the air, but she recovered quickly. Bolts crashed into Wilson’s face from above, staggering him. Pain lanced through her body as she landed heavily behind Wilson. Yareli momentarily lost control of her limbs, almost dropping her weapon from her nerveless fingers. After regaining control, her opponent readied another sonic cry.

With a shaky hand, she clawed around for her gun and reinserted her Uhyre Key. Yareli only had moments until Wilson brought his sonic cry to bear. Her weapon switched to sword mode, and she stumbled the short distance between them. But her hand remained steady, blazing energy gathering around her blade as it trembled with power.

“Torrent Fang!” Its edge met Wilson’s chest as he turned to unleash his own final attack. The full force of Yareli’s ultimate attack crashed into the Ymir president, cutting short his sonic cry. Energy sparked from his Angra Armlet as it overloaded and exploded in sparks. Wilson collapsed behind Yareli, his body morphing to its original form, blood gushing from a gash in his chest.

“I did it. I won.” Yareli collapsed to one knee, her transformation flashing away.

“Unbelievable.” Halvorsen stared, eyes widened in shock.

“As expected. Not so great now, eh, Wilson?” Anderson stumbled toward her, helping her stand. “I’m not expecting any more trouble?” He gave Yareli’s father a pointed glare.

“No, she isn’t going anywhere,” ID-01 said, appearing from behind a tree, sword ready in her grip. Yareli didn’t miss a beat, switching her weapon to gun mode and pointing it at the doppelgänger’s head. Despite the Valkyrie’s damaged armor, ID-01 seemed ready to resume the violence.

“No, ID-01. Let them escape.” Halvorsen gave a stern shake of his head. “I’m not prepared to lose you too. Besides, in her condition, I doubt she’d be much of a threat to our plans.”

“This isn’t over, Fenrir.” ID-01 sheathed her sword and watched her prey hobble toward a nearby alley. Yareli kept her weapon ready in case they attempted anything, but they left without incident. Her head jerked as she remembered something, glancing back to search for the other Ragnadriver user. Unsurprisingly, the snake had slithered away during the ensuing conflict. Shaking her head, they entered the detective’s battered old car and drove off.

---

“Not a threat to our plans?” Wilson raised a speculative eyebrow, hunching over his desk. It bothered his injured middle, so he lightened the pressure.

“Fenrir and her Jotnar allies are in rough shape. I doubt they’ll cause any trouble for the time being. Our plans have almost come to fruition anyway.” Halvorsen gave a faint shrug.

Wilson studied his old friend for several long moments. “Are you relieved we lost?”

“I don’t know.” Halvorsen’s body sagged, his face aging by decades in moments. “I only pray she doesn’t become more of a bother.”

“She’s your daughter. I doubt that’s likely.” Wilson noted that his old friend didn’t argue against Fenrir being his daughter. “Still, I don’t mind losing. In my book, humility is a useful lesson. And Dino Rizzo obtained an even greater power with his Uhyre key.”

“Only useful if he survives.”

“He will. Dino is strong, too.” Wilson’s enforcer was in the emergency ward of the local Ymir-owned hospital, treated by the world’s best doctors. “Like Fenrir, he’s developed a curious connection to his Uhyre Key. Their connection will defeat the poison attacking his system.”

“That’s good news.” A buzz came from Halvorsen’s pocket, and he checked his text messages. “Better news. We completed the third Rangadriver. I’ll have it delivered to your office shortly. Excuse me, I must be going.”

Wilson nodded in acknowledgment, watching his friend’s back as he left. Poor Halvorsen. Fate was cruel to him. His dark mood evaporated as Lauper entered with a silver-backed suitcase.

“Is that it?”

“It is.” Lauper opened the case to reveal a curious alteration to the Rangadriver’s design. They had fashioned it into a gun, not unlike Fenrir’s powerful weapon. The runes on its surface glinted in the light. In the foam casing next to it was a new Uhyre Key, emblazoned with a skull—one half black, the other white.

“Not a belt?” Wilson asked, plucking the device from the suitcase. It had a surprising amount of heft, but was well-balanced and comfortable in his grip.

“No. This version offers less strain on its user. Anyone can use it, but only with a compatible Uhyre Key,” Lauper replied.

“Shame.” Wilson had been eager to try his Uhyre Key with the device. They’d developed a powerful bond. It seemed a shame to abandon it. His instincts told him the device didn’t belong to him—but Wilson didn’t mind, placing aside his disappointment. “We’ll begin the test run tomorrow. One of the Valkyries can try it out. Pihu Anand seems like an excellent candidate. She has a good head on her shoulders.”

“I’ll tell her.” Lauper exited the office, leaving Wilson alone with his thoughts. With the newest Rangadriver’s completion, his goals could finally come to fruition. The peaceful future he dreamed of would become a reality.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

“Sir?” Reine said, poking her head into his office.

“Reine! How are you?” Wilson said, wearing a broad smile, always pleased to see Ymir’s premier idol.

“Okay, I guess.” The Ymir idol rubbed at her arm. “The Valkyries were involved in a huge battle, but they didn’t allow me to help. It was against the skeleton monster, right?”

“Fenrir, yes. I realize you’re a member of the Valkyries, but she’s a dangerous foe. I only meant your membership to be a publicity stunt, never to participate in actual battles. Still, I’m glad you lent Ms. Lange your armor. It saved a life.”

“It’s alright. I’m only an idol. I could only watch from the sidelines.” Reine gave a self-deprecating laugh. Her eyes trailed toward the Rangadriver on Wilson’s desk. “What’s that? May I?”

“Go ahead,” Wilson said. “That’s our newest project. It will change how warfare is conducted forever.”

“Really?” Reine’s eyes expanded into saucers, examining the gun-like device in her hands with reverence.

“It will ensure Ymir will be the world’s leading corporation for many years.”

“I’m afraid that will never happen,” Reine said, ice creeping into her voice.

“Sorry?” Wilson froze as Ymir’s famous idol pointed the Rangadriver at his chest. From her expression, this wasn’t a playful joke.

“What are you doing?” Wilson backed further into his chair, causing his chest wound to ache. The weapon pointed toward him made that a minor concern, however.

“I can’t tell you how much I despised being your pet—playing dress-up for your amusement, being displayed on live TV like a pretty, empty-headed doll.” Reine’s face twisted into a cruel smile. “But it was worth it for this moment alone.”

She inserted the Uhyre Key into the slot beneath the Rangadriver’s grip. “Henshin.” With a twist of her wrist, she jabbed the barrel into her left arm and fired.

Wilson flinched as light consumed his office, Reine’s body glowing with brilliant radiance. A dark fire erupted from her right palm, consuming half her body. Armor formed as the white and black flame dissipated.

Her armor had two halves, echoing her previous Valkyrie design. One side was blackened, corroded, and dying—metal rusting away. The other was regal and queenly, glowing white with intricate runic etchings. Half her helmet seemed melted, revealing a bleached skull beneath. Atop her head rested a golden crown, magnificent and gleaming.

“What do you think? Worthy of a god? Hel seems appropriate. It fits me.”

“Why?” Wilson’s mind raced. What was happening? What was her game?

“Why? Because you killed my sister!” Venom spat from Reine’s usually lovely voice, twisting it into something monstrous. “Your ridiculous experiment got her killed.”

“Mallory Cotillard?” Wilson said, the details falling into place. Cotillard was an orphan. An only child. Wait—didn’t Reine also come from an orphanage?

“Now that I know everything, I can enact my vengeance on everyone involved in her death.” Behind her helmet, Wilson could hear the cruel smile in her voice as she fired a volley of bolts into his chest.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 20

“I’m Ilma Halvorsen?”  Yareli wanted to scream its apparent impossibility—that it couldn’t be true. But deep down, she’d always suspected the truth. A lock opened within her mind, revealing truths she’d once believed lost.

The memory of her younger self training in a gym returned to her. But a new figure stood within the memory: Valter Halvorsen. His stern but kind and powerful hands guided her every step, ensuring each movement was correct and efficient. His smiling approval warmed her young heart whenever she performed each maneuver successfully.

“My God, it is true, isn’t it?” Yareli broke down, collapsing to her knees. “Father?”

She studied the older man’s face, realizing how familiar every line and crag was to her. Yet he had seemingly aged decades since she’d last seen him. The loss of his daughter had cracked his seemingly unbreakable resolve. How could she have forgotten him? Tears welled in her skeletal sockets. Her father’s face was a torrent of conflicting emotions—love, pain, hatred.

“Yes, you are,” Halvorsen said, his voice husky. “Yet, you aren’t. Ilma is dead. I saw it myself on that terrible day. Malloy killed her to save me. Yet somehow, the prototype Uhyre key retained a piece of her. You’re a ghost, nothing more.”

“You’re wrong!” Yareli moved to embrace her father, but Halvorsen stepped away, inflicting an injury on her worse than any sword wound.

“No. You’re only a monster that resembles her.” Halvorsen’s face hardened into granite. “I saw the carnage you inflicted back at the Bifrost Police Department. The real Ilma would have never done that. You’re the reason she died!”

“Father, I…” Yareli flinched, shaking with unbridled emotion.

Halvorsen hesitated for a moment, struggling with his next words. Duty, however, drove him forward.

“For the good of everyone, we must destroy you. That way, I can finally put my daughter to rest. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Anguish filled Yareli’s voice. Worse, she feared his words might contain the truth. Was she the real Ilma Halvorsen, or just a facsimile created when the Wolf Key merged with her? Was she just a monster? She buried her skeletal claws in her face, too shaken to move.

“I see. The truth was worse than I expected.” Yareli wasn’t surprised when President Wilson emerged from a far door. “I’m sorry, my old friend. It’s my fault this terrible accident happened.”

“I don’t blame you.” Halvorsen took in a breath, calming his flurry of emotions. “We played with fire and got burned. Is this how Daedalus felt when he realized he’d created the same wings that got his son, Icarus, killed?”

“Don’t worry.” Wilson pulled out an Angra Armlet, attaching it to his arm. “For both your sakes, I won’t let her suffer anymore. Terrorize!”

A fist flew toward her face, but Yareli dodged and snarled. Despite her emotional turmoil, her survival instincts drove her to live. Besides, her returned memories didn’t change the fact that her friends were counting on her to stop Ymir.

Yareli’s clawed hand quivered, gripping her Uhyre key tight. Thankfully, she already had her Rangadriver attached to her waist in anticipation of this very battle. “Henshin!”

“Have to say, kid, I’m sorry too,” Dino appeared next, gripping his Uhyre key. “Your whole situation is all kinds of messed up. Make this easy for yourself and surrender. Terrorize!”

“Valkyries, get into position,” Halvorsen said, his voice iron, activating the trap Yareli had anticipated. Two fully suited Valkyries emerged from the door behind her, their faces hidden behind their helmets. Her father spoke a command word, and the fake Ilma—ID-01—returned to life.

“Does it have to be this way?” Yareli said, her voice tight as her enemies surrounded her. Halvorsen’s expression told her the answer.

“Damn stubborn old man. He was always like this—always!” Yareli thought. While she understood his twisted reasoning, his betrayal hurt. Even if Yareli only possessed Ilma’s memories, didn’t she still deserve to exist?

Remorselessly efficient, metal scraped together as Yareli’s claws interrupted ID-01’s blade. A jolt struck her as another Valkyrie used the distraction to slash across her chest. The trio fought to overwhelm her with numbers, fighting with perfect coordination. They seemed to anticipate her every movement. Yareli’s left leg buckled as a sword slashed across it. Wilson and Dino watched the exchange, content to let the Valkyries wear their opponent down.

“I’m sorry it needs to come to this,” a Valkyrie—Abbey—said. Behind her word, Yareli heard her conflicting emotions. 

While quick and well-coordinated, the Valkyries couldn’t match Fenrir’s raw speed. One stumbled as Yareli pushed a pedestal holding a face sculpture into her, breaking their perfect coordination and striking back. Steel clashed against steel as Yareli unsheathed her sword, digging it deep into her foe’s chest armor. She paid for it, receiving twin slashes across the chest from the Pihu.

Despite Yareli growing stronger from her last battle, three against one were poor odds. The situation wasn’t completely against Fenrir, however—the enclosed area made using their wings impossible. Yareli’s sword blurred as she engaged, but they stayed a step ahead, targeting her legs to keep her off balance. She changed her stratagem, switching her sword into its gun form, but a slash across the wrist made her drop it before she could fire.

“Dammit. They’ve prepared themselves well to combat my abilities,” Yareli thought. Channeling her outrage at her father’s betrayal, she charged forward with a defiant howl.

Spears and swords bit into her, but she barely noticed, pouncing toward the nearest Valkyrie. Pihu screamed in fear and pain, ineffectually striking Yareli with her armored fists. With a savage roar, Yareli drove her claws into the trapped Valkyrie’s torso. Her allies bit Fenrir with their weapons, but the damage only increased her savagery, digging her claws deeper into the fallen Valkyrie’s chest armor. Before she could shred it apart, a sonic wave blasted her through a wall and into the raging storm.

“Enough of that,” Wilson stepped through the hole he’d created in Yareli’s old home. Water stained the expensive carpet from the gaping hole. “Forgive me, Halvorsen. I’ll repay the damages.”

“Be careful. Don’t underestimate her.” Halvorsen’s words ripped a hole in Yareli’s heart. The grief drove her primal fury, reddening her vision. What use was her humanity if it only caused such pain? The Valkyries took flight, but Fenrir barely noticed. Instead, she focused her fury on Wilson, charging with animalistic abandon.

Wilson pivoted away from her first swipe but grunted in pain when her second slashed him across the chest. Her head rattled as a sudden punch struck her across the skull, but the blow barely registered. 

Wilson closed the distance, opening his mouth for another sonic cry, but Yareli charged forward anyway, uncaring of the repercussions. A sudden spear from a Valkyrie above drove her off course. She stumbled to a halt as two Valkyries blocked her path, protecting their boss. One was her hated enemy, ID-01. The last Valkyrie flew above, out of reach.

“You okay?” Abbey asked Wilson. “Our attacks don’t seem to even register.”

Spears of ice lanced toward Yareli from behind, but she flipped away before they struck. “Don’t worry. We’ll get her,” Dino said, now in his bear form. “She can’t defeat all of us.”

Someone cursed, and a white fox creature charged forward and barreled into Dino, throwing him off his feet. Who was that? Another enemy? It didn’t matter. They’d all die.

“Who the hell are you? Another Jotnar?” Dino eyed the newcomer in surprise.

The fox monster didn’t reply, only drove a punch into Dino’s face. While they scuffled, Yareli focused her attention on Wilson and ID-01. A Valkyrie screamed as Fenrir’s claw tore holes into her helmet, trickles of blood seeping from them. Yareli pounced from her previous victim, aiming her claws toward the robot duplicate’s throat.

A jab to the ribs drove her back, and the airborne Valkyrie slashed across her neck. Fenrir ignored the distractions, raising a claw to tear into her doppelgänger. A burst of energy dislodged Yareli from ID-01 before she could complete the deed. From the broken wall in her father’s house, the half-destroyed Valkyrie gripped Fenrir’s fallen gun-sword.

“You okay?” Pihu, keeping the gun trained on Yareli.

“I am unharmed,” ID-01 replied, getting to her feet. Yareli charged, but another shot blasted into her chest. Fenrir howled in frustration.

“Dammit, Yareli! Stop attacking like a wild animal and think!” the fox said, dodging a barrage of ice spikes. “We need to work together and—” He screamed in pain as Yareli slashed him across the chest. He was an enemy. They were all enemies.

“Yareli, you…” Yareli’s eyes widened in shock as the fox monster lost his transformation, revealing Detective Anderson. Blood oozed from the place she’d slashed him, and he collapsed in a muddy puddle.

“Anderson!” Yareli’s voice was hoarse and raw. What had she done?!

Wilson took advantage of her distress, unleashing a sonic cry point-blank into her chest. Shrubbery was torn from its roots as Yareli crashed through it, ruining her father’s carefully tended lawn.

“The detective from earlier? How bothersome,” Wilson said. “No matter. This is finished.”

“Hold on. You aren’t planning to kill a cop, are you?” Abbey said, crossing her arms. Her teammates also seemed resolute in their stance against killing anyone.

“No, it won’t be necessary. We’ll imprison him until Ragnarök starts. Then, he won’t be much of an issue.” Wilson fixed his attention on her father. “Once again, is this okay?” Despite the threat Fenrir posed to his plan, he wasn’t keen on killing his friend’s daughter.

“Do it,” Halvorsen said with a hesitant but resolute nod.

No! What a fool she’d been. Why had she allowed the beast to control her? She stewed in self-loathing, wondering if she deserved this. Was her father right? Was Ilma dead, and what remained a monster? She didn’t dodge as Wilson unleashed another point-blank sonic cry. Her body jerked as something pulled her away before it struck.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that,” said a stranger in purple, serpent-like armor. He placed her carefully under a tree. Much to Yareli’s shock, he was wearing a Rangadriver. “I’ve grown fond of this little pup.”

“A Rangadriver?” Wilson’s monstrous eyes widened in astonishment. “Impossible.”

“Call me Kamen Rider Jörmungandr. Or Midgard Serpent, if you prefer. I realize it’s a mouthful,” the stranger aimed his odd fang-like sword toward Wilson’s chest. “How about I be your opponent?”

Jörmungandr circled around Wilson like a serpent ready to entangle his prey. “Though you’ll find I’m more in control of my faculties than the pup here.”

“You’re different from Fenrir’s Jotnar friends.” Wilson didn’t budge, studying his new opponent. “You’re something altogether different, I suspect.”

“Sir?” Dino eyed the newcomer warily. Something about the Serpent Kamen Rider radiated power, making him hesitant to approach.

Wilson extended a hand and gestured toward the Valkyrie still wielding Fenrir’s weapon. The president caught it with a deft hand. “I’ll deal with him. Valkyries, finish off Fenrir. Don’t underestimate her. She’s proven dangerous when cornered. Dino, you’re with me.”

ID-01 didn’t need to be told twice, eager to eliminate her doppelgänger. While Yareli’s head was still reeling from the unexpected arrival of a new Rangadriver user, the robot drove her blade into Yareli’s chest. Yareli screamed.

Pain?! What was going on? Had she just imagined that burning sensation? Another agonizing cut across the chest confirmed it. Yareli didn’t have time to ponder the implications of this unexpected development, blocking another sword strike with her claws as the three Valkyries closed in on her.

Unlike Fenrir, the newcomer barely seemed to sweat as he exchanged blows with Wilson. Dino attempted to aid his boss in the combat, but Jörmungandr used such clumsy interference to his advantage. Though well-meaning, Dino only impeded Wilson’s attacks, proving more a hindrance than a help. Unlike the Valkyries, they hadn’t trained to fight together.

Yareli hissed from a slash across the arm but retaliated by grabbing the taller Valkyrie’s head. Metal screeched as the Valkyrie’s helmet visor crumpled under Yareli’s claws.

She jerked in sudden shock when Wilson changed the target of his fight and blasted Fenrir with her own weapon. Yareli struggled in vain as the Valkyries suddenly piled on her, restraining her.

“Nifty little gadget.” Wilson directed Fenrir’s gun toward Jörmungandr, driving him back as he deflected each shot with his fang-like blade. “I must use it in the newest model of the Rangadriver once it’s finished.��

“Bothersome.” Jörmungandr withdrew his Uhyre key and inserted it into his sword. It shared a striking similarity to Johan’s new weapon—an odd detail she filed away for later. Purple energy gathered around its blade, dripping a corrosive substance that ate away at whatever it touched.

“Venom Strike.” Jörmungandr whirled his sword toward Wilson, but the man ducked away. It wasn’t his intended target, however. The purple energy wave struck the Valkyries restraining Yareli.

Abbey screamed in pain, her armor smoking as the substance corroded it. Her teammates scrambled to free her as the acid ate through the metal plating with sickening ease.

The other two Valkyries were luckier, just barely avoiding getting doused. They also scrambled to remove any pieces the acid had touched. The poison showed no sign of stopping. A drop slid down toward Yareli, but she rolled away before it dripped on her. She gave Jörmungandr a venomous glare. That might have killed her.

The first Valkyrie slapped her safety release valve and tossed aside the smoldering remains of her armor, watching as the acid completely consumed it.

“Dear God,” Dino said, both awed and horrified, shuddering to consider what it might do to flesh and blood.

“You’ve made some impressive innovations on our previous design.” Wilson, steadfast as ever, kept his calm.

“I have some smart people.” The Midgard Serpent shrugged. “Isn’t it about time you surrendered?”

In response, Wilson returned Fenrir’s weapon to sword mode. He unleashed a sonic cry that the careless Jörmungandr wasn’t quick enough to avoid. With an opportunity open, Yareli slashed at the exposed skin on ID-01’s suit. A barrage of ice shards, however, impeded her path.

“Can’t forget me,” Dino said, flexing his claw. “Don’t worry, ladies, I’ll cover you.”

The bear monster lumbered forward as the Valkyries slipped around him, using his massive bulk as a barrier. Their ability to adapt to the thug’s fighting style was remarkable.

Jörmungandr’s situation wasn’t much better. Wilson’s experience as a fighter made him a difficult opponent. The Rangadriver user grunted as Wilson slipped past his defenses, driving him back with a powerful thrust from Fenrir’s sword. Impatient, Jörmungandr reinserted his Uhyre key into his sword, blasting another wave of deadly poison toward Wilson.

“Venom Strike.”

Much to their collective shock, the Ymir president held his ground and unleashed another sonic cry. Jörmungandr howled in pain as his own poison burned into his armor, writhing on the ground.

“Seems you aren’t immune to your own poison.” Wilson took advantage of his opponent’s vulnerable state, stabbing him in the chest.

“Dammit,” Jörmungandr growled. Something about his armor had neutralized the poison, only singeing its surface before stopping. He struggled to stand, his breathing labored.

Her opponents continued to press their advantage, Dino pushing her past the breaking point. The Valkyries continued to sting her with their weapons. But Yareli surprised one Valkyrie by taking the full brunt of her sword strike and reaching into an exposed section of her opponent’s armor, grabbing it and shredding it with her claws. The Valkyrie cursed and fled back, not wanting to expose herself further to Fenrir’s attacks.

“You just refuse to stop, don’t you?” Dino glared balefully at Yareli.

“It’s her armor,” Halvorsen said, watching from a nearby tree. “It’s healing her injuries. Driving her natural instincts to fight. Remarkable. Is this a trait of her unique connection to her Uhyre key or her armor?”

“Father, stop this! You don’t really want me dead, do you?!” Yareli cried, unable to hold her tongue.

“But she can’t heal forever.” Dr. Halvorsen ignored her pleas, coldly analyzing Yareli’s capabilities instead. “Push her hard enough, and she’ll break. Aim for the head. Damage there should tax her.”

“You made it sound easy, Doctor. Never mind, she isn’t the only one who’s gotten stronger. Get back, robogirl. I’m about to cut loose.” Dino’s bear muzzle smirked as he flexed his neck. A wave of apprehension washed over Yareli.

After ID-01 retreated, Dino beamed. “That’s better. I prefer mano a mano, anyway.” Yareli didn’t reply, waiting for her opponent to make his move.

As Dino clashed his claws together, a maelstrom of frigid winds and snow appeared between them. It made Yareli shiver—which should have been impossible. The earth boomed as the bear creature slammed his massive paws against the ground. Ice spread around Dino’s body, creating armor with jagged spikes. It coated his paws, forming wickedly sharp claws that extended a meter beyond his normal ones. A proverbial blizzard whipped around the man, like he’d become the living embodiment of a winter storm.

“Shall we begin again, Fenrir?”

[jonathanvik]

Krisis - Chapter 15

“Scatter!” Rocke said, jerking away as an electric prod slashed at his head. The artificial soul inhabiting the robot glared at him with utter malevolence with its single, unblinking mechanical eye.

“I’ve been looking forward to this!” Phú’s sweet, cheery voice said. “Don’t get involved, Halkken. This worm is mine!”

“Okay,” a young man with a mop of red hair said, offering a thumbs-up. He’d been hiding behind a broken wall before he spoke. From his sidearm and suit, Rocke supposed he was a detective.

Instead of focusing on Rocke, Halkken aimed his laser pistol at Kallane, who was desperately seeking cover behind a supply crate.

“Kallane!” Rocke screamed in alarm, his friend screaming as a bolt scorched her left arm, her face twisting in pain.

His other ally wasn’t doing much better, fleeing as Famus’s riding crop sizzled with electricity, a loud crack resounding through the night as it missed by a hair. Rojan cursed as four more human guards appeared, opening fire on him. But the man was nimble, using a nearby cage as cover. Ottomon screamed in fright as bolts zipped past their heads. Rojan fired back, downing two guards in rapid succession.

“I’d worry more about yourself, Rocke,” Phú said, her massive mechanical arms aiming to either shock him into submission or crush his skull. “Another rescue attempt? Haven’t we proved the futility of such an action? You can’t oppose the UOP. Nothing can.”

But Rocke only gritted his teeth, his gun firing bolts into the metal monstrosity’s chassis. But, as he feared, his attacks only scorched the armor— not causing any serious damage. It left him at Phú’s mercy.

“And the best part? Your efforts are useless. You think I can’t break the deactivation code and fight you at the same time? Sorry, but I can! Pointless! Oh, so useless!” Phú broke into mechanical laughter, a painful, high-pitched squeal.

An Ottomon man screamed as a stray shot struck him, burning a hole in his torso. Rojan darted around sparse cover, avoiding the guards chasing after his life. But innocent people were getting hurt as the guards shot after him. 

Rocke made a snap decision. As Phú ranted at him, Rocke clicked his communicator three times. Without time to talk, it was his next best option. He only hoped that Matthias and Nitao would act quickly on the desperate distress call. His weapon continued to thunder, trying to destroy his attacker's eye stalk. It was his best chance to disable her. But it missed, blasting scorched marks into Phú’s hardened armor. His weapon clicked empty—the guard robot barely damaged.

Behind the single glowing eye, Phú beamed a gloating smile. Rocke howled as a metal fist struck his chest, coughing as it knocked the wind out of him. The guard robot raised its electric prod to shock him senseless, but he somehow evaded it with a roll. He threw aside his weapon, knowing he wouldn’t have time to reload it. Still, without a weapon, how could he combat this metal monster?

“Yes, fight harder! It makes this more fun!” Phú crowed, drawing out Rocke’s torment as she continued to taunt him. She had him dead to rights, and she knew it.

Still, Rocke gritted his teeth as his breath returned, eyes darting around for any sort of avenue. He’d be damned if he allowed this psycho AI to win. Then a glint of metal caught his eye, sparkling from a nearby window from the shack.

What the—? A cache of weapons? Many were illegal too, banned for excellent reasons. The warden proved the validity of these laws as a group of Ottomon screamed— a beam lancing through their cage, bodies collapsing in severed chunks as the ray sliced through anything it touched, flesh or metal. Famus had abandoned his whip for something deadlier when his previous weapon had proven ineffective.

“You’re quick, traitorous scum,” Famus gave a respectful nod. “But let’s see how well you can dance!” More beams shot in Rojan’s direction, heedless of who they hurt.

“Bastard!” Rocke’s blood boiled, inflamed by this display of casual cruelty. He didn’t care what happened to him if it meant this madness stopped. Heedless of the risk, Rocke darted toward the shack, just ducking under a shock rod Phú had assumed he hadn’t noticed.

“Hey, come back here!” Phú said, chasing after him.

But Rocke was quicker, his steps fueled by his righteous rage. With a graceful leap that surprised even him, he flew through the shack’s open window, landing in a somewhat awkward roll. Kallane’s uncle gasped, his fearful eyes wide in shock. While still fretful, he calmed somewhat when he recognized Rocke. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rocke raised a hand to stop him. There wasn’t time for discussion. Thankfully, besides a deactivated guard robot, the shack was empty of any immediate threats.

Rocke stumbled toward the weapon cache, impressed by the display of deadly force. It wasn’t just guns and rifles—it held grenades and a combat knife, too. With little time to consider his options, Rocke grabbed the nearest weapon, a golden rifle with a scope. From the weight of the weapon, Rocke idly wondered if it was actual gold.

The rifle’s tip pointed at the broken wall Famus had used for his overdramatic entrance, Rocke’s palm slick on the weapon as he waited for his quarry to appear. Tense seconds ticked away, but the guard robot never appeared, and Rocke tensed when he realized Phú had no intention of being predictable. 

He positioned himself in a spot where he could cover every open angle. A small thud was Rocke’s only warning as a nearby wall exploded, splintering from the impact of a metal fist. His weapon fired in the impact's direction, the beam landing a clear blow. Rocke smiled in satisfaction as the metal flared red-hot before the entire chassis melted under the beam’s intense heat—hot enough to ignite part of the wooden shack. It caught quickly, spreading across the cheap wooden frame at an alarming rate. Still, Rocke kept firing until the metal monstrosity was nothing but a melted heap, a bitter odor wrinkling his nose.

“Not so clever now, are you?” Rocke said, pleased. 

It seemed things were turning around. In the distance, he heard more gunfire, but not in Famus’s guards’s direction. Nitao had entered the fray, providing much needed assistance. The fire continued to spread, Kallane’s uncle’s eyes widening in alarm as it threatened to consume them all.

“Get going!” Rocke said. Finally, Kallane’s uncle got the picture and headed toward a nearby opening. 

But he paused, eyes widening in alarm. That was Rocke’s only warning as a metal fist collided with his skull, knocking him senseless. Smoke obscured Rocke’s blurry vision as he looked up, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Was that a guard robot?

“What?” Rocke mumbled, having trouble gathering his thoughts.

“Idiot! You really thought you got rid of me? Fat chance!” Phú said, her tone gleeful. “You need to pay better attention to your surroundings!”

“The other guard robot in the room?” Rocke said, his scattered mind gathering the pieces.

Stupid! He’d been careless. The robot attacking outside had been a decoy. Phú had jumped to the room’s other guard robot to catch him unaware. The room became oppressively hot as the flames caught the roof, Rocke coughing as the smoke thickened. Phú, however, stood above him, completely unconcerned about the fire licking at her metal heels.

“Now here’s a question. Should I bash your brains in? Electrocute you until your heart gives out? Or just hold you here until you die of smoke inhalation? So many good options!” Phú said.

Rocke’s mind raced, searching for a possible escape. The broken wall only stood about a meter and a half away. But he’d never get that far with Phú standing over him. 

“Hold on. Don’t you want to bring me in? Just cuff me and throw me into a cell. Isn’t that your job, capturing criminals?” Rocke asked.

“Good point, but nah,” his tormentor replied. “You’re a known traitor, and you’ve broken out of prison before. Safer to kill you now before you cause more problems.”

“Really?” Who programmed this nuts AI?!

“Yep! And I’ve decided on suffocation. You believe in that superstitious mumbo jumbo, right? What more suitable death for your sin than fire? I am so clever!”

Before Rocke could roll away, a metal arm clamped around his neck. It held him fast against the floor, smoke making his eyes water as he struggled against her grip. He fought harder, but it only drew more smoke into his lungs. Ragged coughs escaped his lips, breathing becoming almost impossible.

“Night, hero,” Phú said in a purr. “And sweet dreams in oblivion.”

---

Jafia sighed as she sipped at her coffee, the bitter taste reviving her. After the last stressful few days, she needed such simple comforts. It heightened her awareness as she watched the operation get underway, knowing she could help little at her end. She kept her eyes peeled on her computer, watchful for any change. 

While she’d caused a complete freeze in the guard robot’s mainframe, it would restore itself soon. While her skills were impressive, her enemy was no slouch, either. Jafia hadn’t been entirely truthful to Rocke’s resistance gang. While the robot’s command network was antiquated, she wasn’t confident she could cause a complete burnout of the system. The enemy wouldn’t get caught off guard next time.

A palm slammed against her chair as she watched Rocke’s group approach the shack used as the camp’s main headquarters, gripping it tight as she waited for the shoe to drop. Years taught her to expect the unexpected. She uttered a curse as the wall exploded and a guard robot burst free to assault Rocke’s resistance group.

“What the—?” Jafia checked her computer, noting the enemy network was still down. Why was this guard robot still functional? She noticed another oddity: the robot was fighting erratically, not straightforward and ruthless like its programming should dictate. In fact, Jafia noticed a sadistic streak as it tormented Rocke.

“Did some AI take over the robot?” But why would that be possible? Her heart seized with terror as the robot punched Rocke in the chest, knocking him senseless.

“I have to help him!”

But what could she do? She’d seen what little effect Rocke’s weapon had on the guard robot. They didn’t possess the firepower to destroy that metal monstrosity. And every second it delayed them meant more time to either restore its metal comrades or bring in reinforcements. Jafia slammed her palms against her skull for a solution. Then it struck her—its simplicity brilliant in its execution.

Her fingers blurred as she wrote the simple program and uploaded it to a USB drive. She smiled to herself, pleased. She figured this would be the best solution. It meant abandoning her post, but Rocke needed her. After stuffing the drive into a side pocket, Jafia withdrew her sidearm and rushed out of her van. She only prayed she wouldn’t be too late.

The intensity of the fight increased as she approached the camp. Jafia stayed low as she moved forward, her eyes keen for trouble. She jerked in surprise as someone came into view, almost shooting the person on instinct. But Jafia’s training stayed her finger, and she sighed in relief when she realized they weren't hostile. The Ottomon screamed as he saw the weapon, cowering in terror.

In response, Jafia held up a placating hand, showing she meant no harm. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

“Help?” the man replied. While he’d calmed somewhat, he still seemed ready to bolt. Recognition clicked in Jafia’s head.

“You’re Kallane’s uncle, right? Hooven?”

“Yeah,” Hooven said, somewhat confused. “Wait, I need to get going. They’ll catch me otherwise!”

“Wait!” Jafia caught the man’s arm. “A young man with dark hair—have you seen him? Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Hooven said, his voice testy. “Does it matter? You better flee, too. They’ll kill anyone they catch.”

And the tattooless Ottomon man fled without another word, leaving Jafia alone, stewing in her frustration. Some help he was. With no better options, she darted forward, hoping to find her target soon. She somewhat knew Rocke’s location, however, time was pressing.

“They’re treated little better than animals.” Jafia thought in disgust as she entered the camp proper, surveying the display of casual human cruelty. These people had been left to stew in their own filth. 

But it was hardly a surprise; her own people, the Vanderfall, had gotten treated the same during the war. In the OUP’s mind, the victor was supreme, free to do whatever pleased them. When she caught a soldier hiding behind a bush for cover, Jafia pointed her pistol at the surprised man’s skull and fired.

When Famus came into view, Jafia didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. If Rocke died in this damnable camp, OUP would pay for it in blood. The camp warden uttered a curse as the red line streaked towards  his head, but managed to duck at the last moment. He yelped as Rojan used the distraction to clothesline the man from behind, driving him crashing to the ground. Her fellow spy gave her a thumbs-up and fought to restrain the man. It seemed he wanted Famus alive for whatever mission he was on. But that didn’t concern her, and she continued to search for Rocke. 

She spotted Matthias helping Rojan restrain Famus. Kallane still struggled with another guard who had her pinned down behind a barrel. The guard hesitated, unsure if he should keep the Ottomon girl pinned or help his boss. A neck snap from the Konquellian answered that question, ambushing the man from behind. Jafia jerked back, startled. Where had he come from? But she nodded, impressed by his skill.

The flames bursting from the shack on the hilltop interrupted her reverie; smoke poured from its open windows. Dread seized Jafia’s chest as she caught a metal figure fighting with someone within.

“Rocke!” Jafia dashed forward, her heart pounding as the flames spread higher.

“Got it!” Rojan said, producing a key from the warden’s pocket. “Quick, get everyone free. The authorities are bound to notice the smoke!” But Jafia barely noticed, her attention focused on rescuing Rocke.

Through the roar of flames, she heard the struggle within. A high-pitched mechanical voice laughed, taking pleasure in tormenting someone.

“I’m coming, Rocke!” With a mighty kick, she burst the flimsy shack’s door open, weapon raised. Her heart seized in her chest when she saw Rocke’s dire situation. A guard robot had him pinned to the floor as flames gathered around them. Her ex struggled to breathe, coughing through the smoke.

“An interruption? Come on! Just when it was getting good! Do you mind? You’re interrupting an intimate moment!” the guard robot said, its eyestalk turning to face her.

Bolts of energy lanced at the eyestalk. The metal monster pivoted away, the bolts flying past. It seemed bored as it turned to address Jafia.

“That’s your plan?” The AI snorted in amusement. “Even if you disable me, this body weighs 150 kilograms. No way you’re getting me off Rocke before he suffocates!”

Indecision wracked Jafia’s features—realizing the AI was correct. Rocke would only get free if it wanted him free. With a portable terminal, she could have hacked its system, but she’d forgotten it in her rush. The smoke worsened as she struggled for a solution. A wild one came to her, and Jafia knew she’d hate every minute.

“Fine. If Rocke’s not escaping, neither are you!” Jafia said, wincing as she dashed over a roaring flame.

“Huh, are you crazy?” the AI said, startled.

Sweat trickled down her neck as she entered deeper into the inferno. The heat was suffocating—Jafia helding her breath to avoid the smoke. But through the haze, she saw her target: a terminal port on the base of the metal monster’s deck.

“Perfect. Once I connect this, you’re deleted for good!” Jafia said, pivoting around the robot.

“What?!” Confusion—then fear—entered the AI’s voice as it spotted the drive in Jafia’s hand. It circled around, protecting its vulnerable weak point, an action that accidentally dislodged its hold on Rocke, just as Jafia had planned. 

In a coughing fit, Rocke slipped out of the weakened grip to scoot away from his attacker. He held his shirt against his mouth, but he seemed weak—on the verge of collapsing. He’d already breathed in too much smoke.

“You!” Furious, the AI swung a shock prod at Jafia. Only her training kept her from getting paralyzed before suffering the fate of being burned alive.

“Hurry, we need—” But Jafia froze when she found Rocke nowhere, only to gasp as she saw him face-first on the floor. He’d finally passed out. If she didn’t get him at least some fresh air soon, he’d die.

“You’re going nowhere,” the AI said, tone mocking. Jafia’s heart seized in her throat as the guard robot moved to block the broken wall. Another appeared by the doorway, blocking that line of escape.

“Oh, by the way, I got the guard robots back online,” the AI said, her tone gloating. “Oops. So much for your grand rescue plan, huh?”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 19

Anderson gagged as a vice-like grip tightened around his windpipe. His weak hand tried something—anything—to rip the hand strangling him away. But it proved useless, the monster attacking him opening its maw into a parody of a smile.

“Please. It’s me, Anderson. I’m your friend.” His voice came out a coughing wheeze. “Don’t do this, Yareli.”

The skeleton monster didn’t seem to understand his words, lifting her razor-sharp claws to gut her prey. Without hesitation, she drove them deep into his chest.

Anderson gasped awake, heart beating painfully. Sweat trickled down his face as he breathed hard.

“Bert, is everything alright?” his wife, Lynn, asked in concern.

“It’s fine.” Anderson offered a weak smile. “Just another bad dream.”

His wife’s lovely face studied him with a worried expression. He’d had plenty of nightmares before—an occupational hazard—but none this vivid.

“5:09?” Lynn glanced at their alarm clock. “A little early, but never mind. How about I make some breakfast? Scrambled eggs and sausages?”

“And coffee. Black as possible.” He gave his wife a grateful nod. She understood the stresses and dangers of his occupation, always doing her best to alleviate them. She was too good for him.

After dressing and showering, he joined his wife in the dining room. The TV showed an ad starring Ymir’s premier idol, Reine.

“The AI on our smart cars offers the safest, most advanced in the world.” The ad showed a replication of a traffic accident involving four different vehicles. Ymir’s smart car demonstrated an impressive reaction speed, responding five times faster than other models.

The idol’s image returned and gave her trademark smile. “Try one, won’t you?” The ad ended with a catchy jingle sung by Reine.

They ate breakfast in silence, Anderson still brooding over his nightmare. The ghastly image of the bloody scene replayed in his mind—Niflhel corpses torn to pieces everywhere. He’d witnessed everything firsthand, watching as Yareli transformed into a monster.

The metamorphosis both surprised him—and didn’t. He’d always detected a dangerous aura around the skeletal woman. Not malicious, but the sensation of being near a dangerous predator. While self-defense, and Niflhel had tortured her friend, he couldn’t condone it either. It left him unsure what he’d do about her.

“Honey?”

Anderson blinked, giving his wife an apologetic smile. “Sorry, miles away. What was it again?”

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner with Mother tonight,” Lynn said. “She’s in town and dying to visit.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” His retired mother-in-law loved springing impromptu visits on her daughter—something he didn’t mind. With the Niflhel business concluded, there’d been an unusual calm. He’d expected more crime after the near-destruction of Bifrost’s police department. But most of the city—including its criminal element—still seemed locked in a state of shock.

Anderson supposed the pseudo-military occupation helped, maintaining peace while the Bifrost Police Department restructured itself. Instead of relaxing, it only heightened his anxiety. He feared this was the quiet before the storm.

“You look plum tired, sir. Not sleeping well again?” His partner, Johnson, walked up to his desk. While still in disrepair, the station had regained some of its normal activity.

“The usual.” Anderson shrugged, offering no further reply.

Anderson’s day was lethargic; he found himself walking through the motions. Despite the unusual drop in crime, other matters occupied his time. Paperwork was always an ever-present menace, regardless of the city’s state.

“The diner downtown?” Johnson asked when lunchtime arrived. “The usual?”

“That’s fine.” Anderson waved a dismissive hand. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as a familiar electronics shop caught his eye during the drive to their favorite diner.

“Sir?” Johnson raised an eyebrow as he programmed a new destination into the car’s system.

“I need to visit someone. Shouldn’t take long.” He needed to see if Yareli was still a danger.

Anderson took a tentative step toward the front door, and a bell rang as he entered. The store looked just as he remembered it—what seemed like ages ago now. Again, the bizarre painting caught his eye. It clashed terribly with the rest of the store’s interior, and Anderson wondered why it was so prominently displayed. Was it created by a relative of Davidson’s? His daughter in the States, maybe?

Minutes passed, but nobody came to attend to him—not unusual considering the owner’s age. He contemplated ringing the bell again for the older man’s sake. Before he could, yelling caught his attention. The voice sounded like Yareli. Curious, he slipped deeper into the store to investigate.

“I don’t care if it’s a trap!” Yareli said. “Halvorsen is my best chance to get answers, and I’m getting them—even if it means choking them out!”

“No!” a familiar young, dark-skinned man replied with a clenched jaw. “You’ll be on your own! With my injuries, I can’t help you!”

Much to Anderson’s horror, he saw Yareli hadn’t lost her monstrous transformation, sitting on the floor like a dog. Her skeletal ears were erect, her posture stiff. Several young people and Davidson sat around her, their tension palpable.

“True, but it isn’t like walking into Ymir headquarters,” another man with even darker skin said. “Just some house in the rich district. Besides, Yareli is stronger now. If it gets bad, she runs.”

“Samuel’s right,” the only woman in the group said. “This is a great opportunity! We can steal his computer files remotely if Yareli slips in a USB drive.”

Anderson rubbed his temple. What was his skeletal friend planning now? Didn’t he tell her to leave the Ymir investigations to the police? While he wanted to step out to protest, something stopped him. These stolen Ymir files might be useful. The governor had announced an investigation, but it required time.

“No, it goes against everything you believe, Anderson!” he thought. The horrible scene of the Bifrost Police Department Massacre flashed through his mind. While unintentional, Ymir’s negligence with their technology had caused the incident. He feared they might cause something much worse.

He supposed stealing some personal files from a scientist wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Anderson couldn’t believe he was contemplating this.

“Steal what, exactly?” Anderson took pleasure in the startled expression of everyone in the room.

“Who are you?” Samuel asked, reaching for his holster.

“Don’t worry, he’s a friend. This is the cop friend I told you about.” Yareli waved a paw, trying to prevent the scene from escalating.

Davidson’s aged eyes brightened in recognition. “Anderson, right? You visited my shop the other day.”

“Are you here to arrest us?” Samuel said, eyes full of mistrust.

“Actually, I believe we can help each other. We’ve got a common enemy in Ymir.” Anderson gave his best reassuring smile.

“You’ll help us?” Yareli asked.

“But first, you need to explain why you’re even meeting with Doctor Halvorsen,” Anderson said with a nod.

Yareli and her friends explained recent events.

“And you think your real identity is this deceased Mallory Cotillard?” Anderson asked, sounding unconvinced.

“Only Halvorsen knows the truth,” Rebecca said, jaw clenched. “I doubt even President Wilson knows what happened.”

The whole situation sounded insane. Was Yareli the ghost of a deceased person? Could he blame her for being so desperate to uncover the truth about herself? Still, dark, bloody memories flashed through his head. A part of him argued Yareli was a danger to everyone, insisting he should be sending the military against her.

“Okay, I’ll help how I can,” Anderson said, rubbing his nose and reorganizing his thoughts. “I won’t spill tears over some misplaced files. And Halvorsen invited Yareli to his home.”

Much to Anderson’s shock, Johan placed an Angra Armlet in his hand, a stern gaze in his eyes. “I can’t fight. I’m counting on you to watch Yareli’s back.”

“Me?”

“Who else? With Samuel and I injured, there’s nobody else,” Johan said. “Unless you expect Gramps to fight?”

“I’m no fighter, and I’m needed for tech support and as a driver!” Rebecca said, digging Anderson’s hole deeper.

“He’s quite right,” Davidson said. “We’re counting on you, young man.”

“But!” Anderson had no desire to transform into the same monstrous creatures that had terrorized his friends and co-workers. Still, could he deny this request? Otherwise, Yareli would walk into this trap alone.

“Fine.” The words tasted bitter on Anderson’s tongue.

“Excellent!” Davidson clapped his hands together and hobbled toward his workstation. “I’ll create you your own Uhyre Key. The keys are fickle about their owners, and I doubt Johan’s would work for you.”

“Okay,” Anderson said, wondering what he’d just agreed to.

---

“Are you sure?” Wilson asked. “This isn’t like you. You aren’t the type to change your mind.”

“Positive,” Halvorsen replied. “If I’m to stop Fenrir, I’ll need your help.”

“What’s the rush?” Wilson studied his top scientist. “I thought you wished to complete your Project: Brokkr first?”

“I’m tired.” Halvorsen sagged in his chair, the lines in his face becoming more prominent, like he’d aged decades in moments. This Fenrir situation was pressing the man past his breaking point. Wilson only wished he knew why. The man seemed barely rational these days.

“Don’t worry. Tonight, I will reveal all.” Halvorsen offered a weak smile, reading his old friend’s mind. “I’m tired of carrying this secret any longer. Everyone deserves to learn the truth.”

He’d suspected his friend had some involvement in Fenrir’s creation. Wilson nodded, allowing the man to explain himself in his own time. Still, what guilt his old friend must be carrying—a terrible burden Wilson was happy to shoulder.

“This is a match I’ve been eager to conclude myself.” He’d miss Fenrir once they’d defeated her. Their little rivalry had been an enjoyable diversion from his duties and pushed him to greater heights.

Like the Fenrir wolf of myth, she was an agent of chaos. It was a shame she refused to help his new world order. They’d need brave and honorable leaders like her.

His phone buzzed, and he answered it. “Wilson.”

“Excellent news, sir,” Lauper said. “We’ve finally completed the Surtur Equation. It’s astonishing. Our projections say it works even better than we first predicted!”

“Splendid work. Provide Doctor Nomikos access to Surtur. He’s been begging to play with it for some time. It should prove vital to complete the Rangadriver prototype’s processor. Let him do as he pleases. His flights of fancy haven’t disappointed me yet.” Besides, the problems facing Ymir were more about production than research.

“It will be like Christmas for him, sir.” After a light laugh, Lauper hung up.

“Good news?” Halvorsen’s spirits brightened, seeming more like his usual self.

“With Fenrir gone, nothing will have the power to oppose Ymir.”

---

Sten Simensen sipped his coffee, scanning various financial articles, trying to sense the market’s direction and its turbulent waves. Despite how profitable he’d made Ophion Industries over the years, it was still a tiny fish in a larger pond. A slight smile came to his lips as he petted his newly minted Rangadriver. That situation would soon change.

While still a powerful force to be reckoned with, recent events had crippled Ymir’s stock price and turned public opinion against them. It’d take only a single push to topple the once-mighty corporation. He only needed to locate the most vulnerable spot to push. His phone interrupted his musings. He smiled when the caller ID identified them as his Ymir contact.

“Yes.” It had taken considerable effort to place his contact into their convenient position, allowing them to provide him with fruitful information. It’s how he’d first learned about the Rangadriver. His spy didn’t disappoint when they explained Wilson’s newest scheme. “Good, keep me posted.”

“Sir?” James asked, noticing his boss’s expression.

“Wilson has laid a trap out for Fenrir. Even coming himself.” Ymir’s president was always reckless with his life. “The net is closing around her, but I suspect it’s about to hit a snag.”

Besides, he relished the opportunity to test his Rangadriver again. The power it offered was extraordinary. Together with Fenrir, they would defeat the troublesome Wilson, and Ymir would crumble to pieces.

---

Raindrops pattered against Yareli’s skeletal body as she crept toward Halvorsen’s manor. It wasn’t a palatial estate, but still fairly well-sized. Despite her open invitation, Yareli wasn’t taking chances. She jumped over the stone wall guarding the premises. Besides, she had no intention of scaring the servants with her wolf form. As her paws touched inside the grounds, a strange wave of déjà vu struck her.

“I’ve been here before.” The familiarity of her surroundings left Yareli dumbstruck. It was surreal, like walking in a dream. Mallory must have come here many times.

As she approached the house, the sense of familiarity intensified. While richly appointed, it wasn’t ostentatious or tacky. She peered through the windows, getting a better view inside, and searched for guards. Except for the bright light on the second floor, the house seemed empty.

“If you’re done sulking around, how about you come inside before you catch your death of cold, Fenrir,” Halvorsen said, standing in a far doorway. Rain pelted his stern face, but he barely noticed, watching Yareli with an intense gaze.

With a reluctant nod, Yareli followed him inside. Again, the strange sense of familiarity struck her, following Halvorsen down a hallway toward an office on the second floor. Walking inside was like stepping into a dream. She recognized everything, yet remembered nothing. Halvorsen caught her expression and body language.

“Is it familiar? I’m not surprised.” Halvorsen sat at a desk, steepling his fingers. “You’ve been here many times.”

“Really?” Yareli shook herself from her stupor and reminded herself of her mission. On the desk sat a desktop open to some figures and calculations she didn’t understand. Rebecca had instructed that she only needed to insert the USB stick into a port. Her program would do the rest. How she’d accomplish such a feat remained unclear.

For reasons Yareli didn’t understand, Halvorsen’s face softened before hardening again. He left his seat and paced before stopping and gazing out a window overlooking much of Bifrost, remaining silent. Outside, rain pelted the window with a fierce intensity.

“He can barely keep still. Halvorsen isn’t looking forward to this confrontation either,” Yareli thought. She slipped a USB drive from within her chest cavity and inserted it into his computer tower. While awkward with her claws, she somehow managed it. Halvorsen missed her skulduggery, brooding on unknown thoughts. The light on the USB stick glowed red, indicating the program was working.

“Isn’t it about time you explain everything?” Yareli said, disturbing the deafening silence. “What happened to Mallory Cotillard? To me?”

---

“She’s done it!” Rebecca hooted in laughter. “I’m getting his files now!”

“Let’s hope it has something interesting.” Samuel crossed his arms. They stood cramped behind the hacker girl’s laptop in her van, the rain gently tapping against the roof. They stood ready nearby in case the situation turned nasty.

“Are you in position, cop?” Johan said into his phone.

“For the millionth time, yes,” Anderson grunted in annoyance. “Don’t worry. I’m watching her back. I’m in the manor’s backyard.”

“So cold. Couldn’t Halvorsen pick a better night to spill everything?” Anderson’s voice crackled through the receiver, betraying a shiver.

“Keep your eyes open. I don’t like this,” Johan still couldn’t believe Halvorsen had invited his mortal enemy over just to talk. It was absurd. The man had something planned.

“Interesting.” Rebecca clicked her tongue. “Our good doctor’s working on a new project—Project: Brokkr. What a genius. He developed this design in just a few days?”

“Wonderful. As if we didn’t have enough problems.” Samuel threw up his hands.

“No way!” Rebecca suddenly squealed with excitement.

Johan perked up. “What is it?” Even Anderson sounded curious.

“I found video files. Most are test footage of the Valkyrie System, but there’s one in a separate folder. Dated the day Mallory supposedly died.”

“Seriously?” Johan leaned forward. “Play it! It might be the clue we need about Yareli’s past.”

“And Halvorsen just left this sitting around on his personal computer?” Samuel said, both dumbfounded and amused.

“What an idiot,” Rebecca snorted. “Who leaves incriminating evidence lying around? Playing it now.”

The video opened on Halvorsen adjusting a bulky, early version of the Valkyrie armor. While crude compared to the current model, its design was unmistakable. Wearing it stood Mallory, her expression alight with excitement.

“There. It should be lighter on you now,” Halvorsen said, stepping back.

Mallory flexed her arm experimentally and nodded. “Much better. I’m ready to test its combat capabilities.”

“How about I help you with that?” said a new voice as a figure entered the frame.

Johan stared, breathless. “Impossible… it can’t be.”

---

“Mallory?” Halvorsen’s expression tightened, unreadable. “Ah. So you’ve come to that conclusion. Not surprising, considering the mystery surrounding her.”

Yareli opened her mouth to demand a clearer answer but froze as Ilma entered the room—helmetless, clad in her Valkyrie armor.

“I told you to wait downstairs,” Halvorsen scolded.

“The risk Fenrir poses is too great. I overrode your prior command,” Ilma replied, her hand resting on her sword’s pommel.

“Stand down. Now’s not the time to fight.” Halvorsen sighed.

Ilma reluctantly relaxed, but her icy glare didn’t fade. “She’s an enemy. Fenrir is a threat.”

“So willful,” Halvorsen murmured. “She’s acting far beyond her original design.”

“Sorry?” Yareli blinked.

“It’s better if I show you.” Halvorsen’s voice trembled. “Command word: J7-alpha-H2-beta-9. Shut down.”

Ilma collapsed instantly, like a puppet with its strings cut. Yareli stared in shock, poking the motionless figure. “What the hell?!”

“Her designation is ID-01. I built her as a combat android—her personality and appearance modeled after my daughter.”

“What? Then… what happened to the real one?”

Halvorsen studied her for a long moment. “When I saw that painting in Davidson’s store, it confirmed my worst fears. Deep down, I think I always knew. Even without your memories, you’re her—her walk, her voice, her habits. How could I not recognize you?”

“What are you saying?” Yareli’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You’ve assumed you’re Mallory Cotillard. But that isn’t true. She died… in a tragic accident.”

“If I’m not Mallory, then…” A horrible realization chilled her to the core.

“You already know. You just haven’t dared to say it.”

He hesitated, then finished, “You’re my daughter.”

---

“What are you doing with that? It’s still a prototype,” Halvorsen said.

Johan squinted—Ilma was smirking. Wasn’t she always emotionless?

“I thought it was worth a test run,” she replied. “Besides, doesn’t a prototype-versus-prototype fight sound fun?” She raised her arm, revealing an old-model Angra Armlet and a familiar Uhyre Key.

“Impudent girl.” Halvorsen sighed, massaging his temple.

“Let her enjoy herself. It’ll give us good test data,” Mallory said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes. Quite instructive,” Ilma said, circling her opponent.

“Fine,” Halvorsen muttered. “But don’t damage either unit.”

Mallory slipped on her helmet and assumed a ready stance. Ilma inserted the wolf Uhyre Key into her armlet.

“Terrorize!”

Ilma screamed in agony, collapsing to her knees as sparks arced across the device.

“Help me! Please!” Johan watched, horrified, as the armlet fused with her flesh. Her form twisted grotesquely into a hulking, lupine monster. She howled, eyes bulbous and vacant—no trace of humanity remained.

“Doctor, look out!” Mallory shoved Halvorsen behind her, placing herself between him and the beast’s claws.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 19

“What a dump,” Reine said, her disgust obvious.

Pihu couldn’t argue. Her suit’s inbuilt camera displayed a sparse office with wallpaper peeling off the walls; she doubted the examination rooms were much better. People crowded around the swat building, many suffering from serious injuries likely caused by the riots. With most hospitals full, the desperate were forced to search for alternatives.

“With Ymir after them, the Jotnar don’t dare use a real hospital.” Pihu scanned the crowd, searching for her target.

“My information tells me the Jotnar have used Doctor Xander Ashens’ services before—an old friend of their late leader,” Dr. Halvorsen said. The other Valkyries were watching other back-alley hospitals.

“A van is approaching. Nondescript,” Reine said. “I recognize them from your descriptions, Doctor.” The van parked, and a female Jotnar helped a dark-skinned man toward the doctor’s office.

“We’ve found them. What now, Doctor? Should I apprehend them?” Pihu gripped her sword, ready for action.

“In his state, I doubt he could even defeat me,” Reine said, amused.

“Negative,” Dr. Halvorsen replied. “We need more intel. For now, follow them. Besides, with how volatile Fenrir has become, we can’t risk her losing control again. It’s doubtful we could defeat her without Project Brokkr.” A familiar anger crept into the doctor’s voice.

Despite their probing, the doctor had provided few answers to explain why he hated Fenrir but claimed his reasons were justified. This answer frustrated the other Valkyrie. Pihu, however, remained content to wait until the man was ready.

Pihu yawned, getting comfortable. The injured Jotnar required serious medical attention. It’d take hours before the doctor discharged him.

Her condition wasn’t much better. An injury she’d received from a Niflhel made moving her left arm difficult. Pihu hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep from exhaustion. That would be embarrassing.

“They’re coming out,” Reine said, rousing Pihu’s attention after three hours of waiting.

“He’s charging us an arm and a leg, the bastard!” the girl said, wearing a scowl.

“We should make Ymir foot the bill.” The other Jotnar wore bandages over his chest and walked with crutches. After his terrible injuries, it amazed Pihu he could even stand.

“Whatever.” The girl rolled her eyes and played with her phone. “Perfect. Alex just sent me a packet containing every detail about Mallory’s past she could uncover.”

“It might help Yareli finally recover her memories.” The man brightened, and the two boarded their van, driving away.

“Mallory?! It can’t be.” Reine sounded stunned, unable to believe her ears.

“Doctor, is that possible?” Pihu asked. It sounded insane, but Fenrir’s entire existence was beyond understanding.

“Mallory, huh.” Halvorsen’s voice turned distant. Had Pihu detected a hint of regret?

“Well, Doctor?” Reine’s voice turned hard, unexpected anger creeping in. “Is it possible? What happened during that experiment?” Pihu couldn’t blame her outrage. Was Mallory used a guinea pig for some unethical testing of the Valkyrie Project?

“I’ll tell you this. Fenrir isn’t a person,” Dr. Halvorsen’s voice went cold. “She’s only a construct created by her Uhyre Key. Never forget this. Mallory’s death was a terrible accident, and that’s the truth.”

Fenrir isn’t a person? Pihu didn’t buy the doctor’s argument. Fenrir had reason and a personality, which made her a person in Pihu’s view. She also detected that the doctor wasn’t telling the whole truth—but that argument was immaterial to their mission. Pihu followed the Jotnar’s van from the sky, staying out of view.

They stopped at a local dive bar called the Data Pirate’s Den. They didn’t stay long, however. A shape lumbered out of the building, a blanket cloaking them from view. Fenrir, no doubt. Much to Pihu’s surprise, it wasn’t human-shaped. Had Fenrir not returned to normal yet? Another Jotnar joined them, and the van drove away.

After some driving, they parked behind an electronics shop. An elderly man exited the building to greet the newcomers, hurrying them inside.

“Doctor. I think we’ve discovered the Jotnar’s home base.”

---

“Come in, come in!” Davidson hurried his young friends inside, wearing a delighted expression. Yareli kept herself under the blanket, cringing as she entered what should be her home. After Alex’s frightened reaction, Yareli dreaded showing her new form to anyone—even Davidson. While an irrational fear, she felt it nonetheless.

“When those hooligans started all the hubbub, I feared the worst!” Davidson gave Johan a sympathetic smile when he noticed the young man’s injuries.

“It was touch and go, but we survived somehow,” Johan replied.

“Yareli, are you okay?” Davidson’s brow furrowed when he noticed a blanketed figure entering his shop. “Did your suit get torn?”

“No, but something happened.” After a moment’s hesitation, Yareli threw aside the blanket, revealing herself.

Davidson gasped in shock, but recovered quickly, giving Yareli a gentle smile. “Oh dear, how did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Johan said, sighing.

Davidson extended a hand, and Yareli flinched from being touched. But she relaxed, allowing him to pet her.

Johan attempted to do the same, but a warning growl caused him to reconsider that plan. “Don’t push your luck. I’m nobody’s pet.”

“Understood.” Johan gave a nervous laugh.

Davidson broke into stifled laughter, and Yareli joined him. It released some pent-up tension, and she relaxed, curling into a ball on the floor.

“What happened?” Davidson asked, sitting on his favorite recliner.

Yareli held nothing back—not even the unintended slaughter she’d caused. Davidson listened to everything with a serene expression. While surprised, her admission that she’d attacked the unarmed Niflhel hadn’t horrified him.

“Terrible business.” Davidson shook his head.

“Yeah.” Yareli’s voice trailed off, relaxing again as Davidson stroked her head.

“It’s eating you up inside, isn’t it?” Davidson said. “Have you become afraid of yourself now? Afraid the people you love will fearfully abandon you?”

Yareli’s surprised expression caused her old friend to chuckle. “Don’t be so shocked. You’ve always been like a second daughter to me. And parents love their children despite their mistakes.”

This left Yareli speechless, causing actual tears to drip from her eye sockets. Thankfully, the Jotnar had vacated the room, allowing the pair to share this tender moment alone.

“There, see? Tears prove you aren’t a monster,” Davidson said, his voice gentle. “You’re strong. You can get through this.”

“Thanks. But what now? Am I stuck this way? I’ve tried picturing my original form, but nothing happens. I don’t want to be a wolf forever!” Yareli flicked her skeletal tail in extreme agitation.

Davidson pushed his aged bones from his favorite chair. “I have an idea.” Curious, she followed her old friend through his shop until they arrived at Yareli’s room.

“What, you want me to paint?” Yareli gestured to her claws. “With these?”

“Does it matter?” Davidson quirked a smile. “You love painting. I doubt that’d stop you. Even if it doesn’t restore you to normal, it should provide you some peace.”

“Maybe?” Yareli entered her room, grabbing a paintbrush with a shaky paw. While awkward, she got a solid grip on her brush. Her wolf face extended into a grin as she splattered the canvas with random colors. It was sloppy but also magnificent. Davidson closed the door behind him with a smile.

---

Johan gave the door to Yareli’s room a nervous glance, worried about his friend.

“She’ll be fine.” Davidson patted Johan on the shoulder. “Painting has always given Yareli solace during troubling times.”

“Really?” Johan supposed everyone had their outlet for their troubles, even living skeletons.

“Leave her alone. She needs her rest.” Davidson raised an eyebrow. “You too, I imagine. You’ve also suffered through some difficult battles.”

With sudden, unexpected speed, the older man appeared behind Johan, examining his new sword. “A curious item. It appears to be based on the technology used in Yareli’s belt. I wonder where you found it.”

Johan winced and started sweating. While recent events had left Yareli too distracted to notice, Davidson hadn’t, however. “Funny you should ask that,” stuttered Johan, trying to make light of the situation. “I might have given data from the Ragnadriver to a third party to experiment with it—a friend that works in forbidden technology. Don’t worry. They won’t sell it or anything.”

“I’d be careful who you deal with, young man. Offers that seem too good to be true usually are. And I doubt Yareli will appreciate learning you’ve been fiddling around with her belt behind her back.”

Johan’s sweating intensified as Davidson’s glare deepened. Thankfully, the older man relaxed. “Get some rest.”

The old man wasn’t wrong. Yareli would be furious once she learned Johan had stolen data from her belt for his own gain. It’d been a problem he’d been anguishing over since he’d first met Simensen. Johan wanted to spill his guts, but something always stopped him. Fear of rejection, maybe?

Johan resolved to explain everything—but later. Yareli had serious enough troubles on her plate already.

From behind her door, Johan heard his friend’s frantic painting. Yet it sounded like Yareli was enjoying herself, painting with a childlike glee—or like a happy puppy. After shaking his head and smiling, Johan headed toward the couch to crash.

A groan escaped Johan as he pushed his stiff muscles off the couch. The painkillers had finally worn off, leaving his whole body aching. Johan stumbled toward the bathroom to find some more.

“What’s the right dosage again?” Johan shrugged and ignored the label, pouring four pills into his open palm.

“Don’t do that! You’re meant to take two, and that’s it!” Rebecca said, startling Johan. He fumbled with the pills, almost dropping them onto the bathroom floor.

After receiving a scathing glare from his friend, a sheepish Johan complied, taking the recommended dosage as instructed with water. Rebecca gave him a smug, triumphant smile.

“Working late again? Do you never sleep?” Johan noted the bags under his friend’s eyes.

The hacker girl only shrugged. “It was worth it, though. Alex and I cracked Ymir’s mysterious equation. We figured out its purpose.”

“Really?” Johan said, delighted. Rebecca, however, refused to elaborate until everyone had gathered together.

Much to Johan’s disappointment, Yareli remained in her wolf form. He’d hoped some relaxation would restore her to normal. Thankfully, she seemed relaxed, indicating the night of painting had helped improve her mood. She waved her bony tail, not unlike a dog. It was kinda cute.

Yareli was scanning the text on Rebecca’s laptop. Gramps stood over her shoulder, manipulating the mouse for her.

“What are you reading?” Johan asked.

“It’s everything about Mallory’s life,” Yareli didn’t take her eyes from the screen.

“Look at this.” Gramps clicked open a picture of a bright young girl hanging with friends at a bar. Her hair was raven black, cut short into a military cut. Mallory’s facial features were lovely, almost regal, with prominent dimples, wearing a smile portraying supreme confidence.

Johan noticed Ilma standing in the background, speaking to some random girl. He wondered if Ilma and Mallory were friends once. Did the Valkyrie leader suspect Yareli was her old friend? But then why was she so keen to kill Yareli?

“That’s Mallory? You were quite the looker, Yareli,” Samuel said half-jokingly.

Johan nodded, quite taken by the picture. Like his friend, Mallory’s casual posture hid highly tuned athleticism and martial training.

“Yes, a handsome young woman,” Davidson said, nodding.

“Is it bringing anything back?” Johan asked.

Yareli stayed silent for several moments before shrugging. “I might remember this bar? It seems familiar.”

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any other photos.” Rebecca shook her head, disappointed. “Someone purged her official files and even her social media accounts. I was lucky to find this one.”

Samuel scowled. “More of Ymir’s dirty work. You said you’ve gained an inkling of their plans? Are they building some type of superweapon like the Death Star?”

“You’re actually not far off,” Rebecca said, nodding. “But it’s more of an informational death weapon than a physical one.” Her friends only blinked uncomprehendingly.

“Let me explain. The data Surtur was compiling was completely stock-related. We wondered why anyone would require this amount of financial data, but the name Ragnarök proved a hint.”

“Ragnarök? Like in Norse mythology? The cataclysm event meant to bring about the death and rebirth of the world?” Davidson asked, not following.

“The name Ragnarök is symbolic of their goals.” Rebecca nodded. “I suspect Ymir plans to use this equation to destroy the current world order to establish a new one.”

“The name is more metaphorical than literal?” Yareli asked.

“It doesn’t make it any less devastating,” Rebecca replied. “The equation will cause a cataclysmic crash to the stock market. It has the power to predict the ebbs and flows of the market—not perfectly, but close enough.”

“Is that even possible?” Samuel asked, interrupting.

“I’m not sure, but it reminds me of a theory I once heard. It’s speculated that with enough data, a computer could predict the future with startling accuracy. This is a smaller-scale version of that theory,” Rebecca said.

“Why destabilize the market instead of making an obscene amount of money?” Yareli’s tail twitched in agitation.

Johan was just as baffled. With this equation, they could become the wealthiest company in existence!

“Ymir has bigger goals. Remember those stockpiled Angra Armlets? With the world thrown into economic shambles, who could oppose them when they wield weapons as powerful as the Armlets and the Ragnadriver? No country would have the money to fund its military.”

“It’s all guesswork, but it fits the Ymir emails I’ve read—and President Wilson’s personality,” Rebecca said. “He was a hardline activist before becoming Ymir’s president. I spoke to an old friend of his who said Wilson became disillusioned in the end, frustrated that he couldn’t change anything.”

“What is this?” Samuel said, outraged. “I thought Ymir was just making shady weapons for profit. This goes way beyond anything I expected. How can we even fight this?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll fight them regardless.” Yareli’s tail twitched again.

“It’s a solid theory, but we need proof,” Davidson said. “If we bring solid evidence to my reporter friend, we have an excellent chance of bringing Ymir down.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Rebecca replied. “Any ideas?”

“I say we charge into that secret lab again and smash Surtur,” Samuel offered. “Easiest way to solve the problem.”

“No equation, no Ragnarök,” Yareli agreed with a nod.

“One problem—Ymir’s not that stupid,” Rebecca said. “They moved the system to their main headquarters. They’re not taking any risks. It’s heavily protected, deep within the building.”

A bell chimed at the store’s entrance, signaling a customer. Davidson bowed his head. “Excuse me. I have a customer.”

Johan racked his brain for a plan but came up blank. Ymir wouldn’t just leave a memo confessing their misdeeds lying around. He voiced his frustrations.

“Of course! It’s so easy!” Rebecca slapped her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it sooner?”

“What?” Johan asked.

“Ymir’s already in hot water with practically everyone. I read an article about the governor launching an investigation into them after the Bifrost Police Department Massacre.” Her eyes sparkled. “If he finds out they’ve been illegally stockpiling and producing weapons, it’d be disastrous for them.”

“Remember that factory we found?” Yareli said. “They’re probably producing more elsewhere.”

“I’ll scan Ymir’s recent dealings for suspicious activity and acquisitions!” Rebecca jumped up, her eyes aflame with eagerness. “We’ll break in, take some pictures, and hand them over to Davidson’s reporter friend!”

While the others discussed plans, Johan wandered off to get some water. As he hobbled toward the tiny kitchen, he froze at the sound of a familiar voice in the distance.

Oh, crap.

Johan turned toward the voice, praying he was wrong.

“It’s caught your eye, hasn’t it?” Davidson gave a good-natured laugh. “It leaves an impression on every customer who comes here.”

Through a side door, Johan confirmed his worst fear: Halvorsen. The scientist stood before Davidson’s counter, gazing at one of Yareli’s paintings with a wistful expression. To Johan’s surprise, he was alone—no Valkyries in sight.

“It’s terrible. There’s no rhyme or reason. It doesn’t seem to be about anything in particular. The painter just threw random colors and lines onto a canvas,” Halvorsen said.

“Does it matter?” Davidson replied gently. “Art is more than just painting fruit.”

“I suppose not.” Halvorsen’s eyes returned to the painting. “And yet, it’s obvious the painter poured their heart and soul into it.” He turned away, expression unreadable.

“I must be going. Thank you for the talk.” Halvorsen headed for the door. Johan’s heart stopped when the scientist looked right at him—and smiled.

“Any time. Your computer should be fixed by Monday,” Davidson called after him with a wave.

“Who was that?” Rebecca asked. “You were talking for a while.”

“An old electronics enthusiast like myself,” Davidson replied, gesturing to a box on the counter. “He brought in an old Micron laptop from the 1990s. Quite a beauty.”

“This thing is huge.” Rebecca hefted the device, testing its weight. “People really lugged this monstrous thing around?”

“Guys! That was Halvorsen!” Johan blurted out.

“What?” Rebecca jerked in surprise, nearly dropping the laptop. Davidson raised a questioning eyebrow.

“And he saw me!” Johan continued. “He knows we’re here!”

“Wait—then why didn’t he attack us?” Rebecca froze as her leg bumped into something. A piece of paper had fallen from the laptop. She picked it up and scanned its contents. “Look at this!”

It read:

“Fenrir, meet me at this address at 17:00 tonight. We need to talk.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 17

“I won.” Johan breathed hard, staring down at his handiwork, dumbstruck. By some miracle, he’d defeated Selim.

“I’m a total badass!” A laugh escaped Johan’s lips. Samuel would never believe this.

“Get it together, Johan,” he thought, chastising himself. Yareli was still in danger! Before doing anything, he checked his phone for any messages from Rebecca. The girl had messaged him 639 times.

“Johan, thank God you answered!” Johan winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Are you okay? What’s happening? You haven’t answered my texts!”

“I’m fine. I haven’t answered because I’ve been fighting for my life,” Johan replied, testily. “It’d take too long to explain. The short version is that Selim is dead, and the Niflhel have scattered.” He staggered down the stairs while he talked, using the railing for support.

“Selim, dead?” Rebecca’s voice caught.

“We aren’t out of hot water yet. Ymir is here. I’m pretty injured. I’m not sure if I can help Yareli.” Crimson oozed through his bandages. His wounds had reopened from the struggle with Selim.

“Unfortunately, I have worse news. The army is almost at your location. Some Niflhel tried slowing them down, but the army got lucky and actually beat them. The Niflhel’s armlets aren’t very tough.”

Johan swore under his breath. “Terrific.”

“They’ll be arriving in two minutes. The news has been covering the crisis pretty thoroughly. I’m watching them approach you right now.”

“We need to leave.” Johan’s mind raced, wondering how they’d accomplish that miracle.

“Don’t worry. I got that part covered!” Rebecca said, her voice turning smug. “Alex is lending Samuel a nondescript van. He’s out front, ready for you. The army is approaching from the opposite direction. It gives us some time, but get moving. You’ve got a few minutes at best!”

“Roger.” Johan hung up, stumbling out the door leading to the parking garage. He surveyed the scene, praying he wasn’t too late.

Johan winced as a loud boom struck his ears, then screamed as a car flew right towards him. Somehow, he ducked in time, and the vehicle planted itself into the door behind him, blocking any escape in that direction.

Yareli danced around her opponent, her claws a blur as she exchanged blows with President Wilson. From his stance, Johan could tell the man was an experienced boxer. While his friend had landed some stinging blows, Wilson stayed firm. Johan winced as a blow struck Yareli’s helmeted jaw, hurling her into the ceiling. She collapsed with a thud, snarling as she rose back to her feet. His goons watched from the sidelines, not interfering in their boss’s fight.

“I can’t believe how strong he is.” He’d thought Yareli’s new form would provide a better edge. Fenrir froze as she saw him coming.

“We need to skedaddle now! No time to explain!” Johan said.

Yareli faltered, clearly intent on finishing her battle against the Ymir president, despite the clear advantages he held over her. Much to Johan’s surprise, Ymir’s president paused.

“The army must be here.” A scowl appeared on Wilson’s monstrous avian face, then he pulled the key from his Angra Armlet.

“What?” Johan gaped. Didn’t he want to work together with the army to capture Yareli?

“Tell me, young man. Did Selim escape?” Wilson asked as his form shifted back to human.

Johan stood straighter, glaring at Ymir’s president with defiance. “No. I killed him.”

A slight smile appeared on Wilson’s face, giving Johan a respectful nod. “Good. That’s one problem solved. Get going. I can’t allow the army to interfere with our battle. We’ll finish this later, Fenrir.”

“Hop on.” Yareli bent down, presenting her back to Johan.

After eyeing the Ymir president with suspicion, Johan complied. With blinding speed, Yareli darted toward a far stairwell. The rough ride sent spikes of pain through Johan, but he bore it. Behind them, they heard boots marching into the parking garage. Wilson watched them disappear, his expression unreadable.

---

“Run it by me again. What happened?” General Hallaway slammed his fists onto Wilson’s desk.

“As I explained, we arrived on the scene and dealt with the Niflhel threat,” Wilson replied calmly.

“Then why was the scene a bloodbath?” Hallaway asked. “What happened to their leader?”

“We’ll do this a hundred times until we get some straight answers, President Wilson!” Chief Greer wasn’t much calmer, either.

The carnage Fenrir had wrought disturbed the soldiers when they arrived, almost opening fire on Wilson’s men in fear. But they entered an uneasy truce when Dino and the others untransformed. While Wilson had claimed the fog of war was the reason for the bloodshed, it wasn’t an excuse they’d accept readily. Wilson had no intention of revealing Fenrir’s existence to anyone. She was Ymir’s problem.

“We’ll comply however we can, but the battle made it difficult to remember any specific details.”

“Fine, play dumb,” Chief Greer said. “They may have been murderers, but killing an unarmed man is still murder.”

Wilson nodded. “Thank you for your assistance, General Hallaway. Your timely arrival helped quell the civil unrest created by the Niflhel. Bifrost owes you its thanks.”

Hallaway only snorted. His soldiers had only mopped up the remainder of the Niflhel and confiscated their Angra Armlets, which rankled the general. After delivering several more threats and reminding Wilson he wasn’t above the law, they left his office.

“What a mess! The press is having a field day with this debacle. Everyone is blaming Ymir for what happened!” Lauper glanced at her phone again, sighing in relief when her daughter finally texted her back. The Chief Strategy Officer’s mood improved, regaining her professional calm.

Ymir’s stock price had plummeted even further. The governor had ordered an investigation into the corporation and threatened to freeze its assets. The Bifrost Police Department Massacre, a cheerful name coined by the media, had stained Ymir’s reputation further. Some people accused the Angra Armlet of causing the Niflhel’s extreme level of violence.

“We might need to speed up the timetable for Ragnarök,” Wilson said.

“Again?” Lauper made a face. “We’re already pushing up production as much as possible.” They’d procured another factory to renew work on new Angra Armlets. But if the media caught wind of it, it’d be a PR nightmare. She told her boss as much.

“We’ll have to risk it,” Wilson said.

“I have a better idea—one that doesn’t depend on the Angra Armlets,” Halvorsen said, finally showing his face.

“What? You’ve learned how to mass-produce Ragnadrivers?” Lauper asked.

“Almost. They will match the Ragnadriver’s power, but won’t be as dangerous,” the scientist replied. “It uses the same nanotechnology the Ragnadriver uses. It’s called Project: Brokkr.”

“Fascinating. But I notice you’ve started this project without my go-ahead.” Wilson’s voice contained a warning.

“You said it yourself. The situation is becoming difficult,” Halvorsen replied. “Without it, we can’t destroy Fenrir.”

There, that grudge again. “I handled myself well enough.”

“But for how long? You’ve seen how her powers have evolved! She’s a danger to everyone! Can you be certain she won’t go berserk again?! You’ve seen what she did to those Niflhel. We were lucky no civilians were around!”

Wilson sighed, unable to argue. He also feared Fenrir was a danger to everyone, just like the legendary monstrous wolf of myth. “Okay. Put any amount of resources you require on Project: Brokkr. But I want results. You better have something substantial by next week. Understand, doctor?”

While confident Halvorsen was hiding something, they shared the same goal—to reforge the world into a better place. As long as the doctor’s personal hatred of Fenrir didn’t impede his work, Wilson would tolerate it. Besides, they’d gone too far to replace the man now.

“Understood. But don’t worry. My Valkyries are out searching for Fenrir. She won’t get the jump on us again. We will find her.”

---

“Dear God, what happened to your face?!” Rebecca asked as Johan dragged himself into the Data Pirates’ Den.

“It was Selim. The bastard had me tortured.” Behind him, Yareli stiffened when he lied to protect her. His friend still hadn’t lost her bizarre transformation, slinking in the shadows to avoid being seen.

“The bastard.” Rebecca peered at the figure hiding under a table. “Yareli? Is that you?”

“Monster!” Alex screamed in fright. The word made Yareli flinch.

“Don’t freak out. It’s still Yareli, despite how she looks. Come out. We won’t panic.” Johan glared at Alex as she hid behind the bar counter. “We’re still your friends.” Everyone gasped as Yareli revealed her new form.

“Yareli!” While scared, Rebecca kept her cool.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Yareli sounded resigned. 

“Damn, what happened?” Samuel said, arms crossed.

“Johan was in danger, and I transformed into this to save him. That’s all I know.” Yareli’s voice contained a grimace.

“Wait, Yareli? That biker girl?” Alex said, completely lost.

“It’s a long story.” Rebecca sighed, moving closer to Yareli to examine her new form. “Fascinating. Uhyre keys respond to emotion, but I never realized they had this effect!”

“I suppose it proves my key is why I’m still alive,” Yareli said. “It saved me from death somehow.”

“It seems likely,” Rebecca said, nodding. “I found a clue in that regard. I was searching Ymir’s past employee records, looking for anything suspicious. An employee named Mallory Cotillard died under mysterious circumstances about three years ago.”

Yareli’s voice caught. “And you think that’s me?”

Rebecca shook her head. “We can’t be sure yet. But it’s a plausible theory.”

“Who was she?” Johan asked.

“She was born in Nantes, France. Both of her parents mysteriously disappeared when Mallory was a baby. She grew up in an orphanage.”

“Mysteriously disappeared?” Johan raised an eyebrow.

Rebecca could only shrug. “There was a missing person’s report, but the police never found them. Mallory’s story gets stranger. At eight, she entered her into a special Ymir program for gifted youths. It had over 3,000 candidates, and Mallory showed exceptional promise in martial training and athletics. She received an exceptional education in Oslo, Norway, with several scholarships for further education.”

“Sounds like an exceptional person,” Yareli said. “What happened next?”

“Here’s where a familiar name rears its ugly head. Ymir offered Mallory an opportunity to participate in a special, unknown project led by Valter Halvorsen. After that, the details get hazy. The official report says she died of a heart attack at age twenty-three.”

“Didn’t you say she was an exceptional athlete?” Johan crossed his arms. “Her heart must have been fantastic! And how do you die of a heart attack at age twenty-three?”

“The doctor’s report is vague on that issue,” Rebecca replied. “After some digging, however, I discovered that the doctor who wrote the report doesn’t exist. Ymir did their damnedest to cover up the death.”

“They’re hiding something, then.” Yareli fidgeted in place, growing more agitated by the second. “Did you uncover anything else?”

“Little, unfortunately.” Rebecca shook her head. “They covered their tracks well.”

“So Halvorsen is the person we need,” Yareli said, voice turned dangerous.

“Now, let’s not do anything reckless, Yareli!” Rebecca said, catching the threat in her friend’s voice.

Johan nodded, also giving Yareli a nervous glance. “Agreed. We’re all in terrible shape. We need time to recover first.”

His worry deepened when Yareli only offered a stiff nod, which looked odd on her wolf-like body. Alex went stiff in terror as the bone-wolf creature paced the room, fearful she might get attacked. 

Not that he could blame Yareli’s reaction, of course. Not knowing her past tormented his friend. Johan wasn’t sure he’d do differently in her position. Still, this new form worried him. Yareli seemed less in control of herself. The scene of the helpless Niflhel torn to shreds flashed back into his mind, unbidden.

“We can worry about that later. I need to see a doctor.” While the medspray had saved him from bleeding to death, it wasn’t a substitute for an actual doctor.

“Right, I’ll get the van,” Rebecca said. “The back-alley hospital is only a couple of blocks away.”

Samuel helped carry him to Rebecca’s vehicle. Yareli watched them go with a concerned expression on her skeletal, wolf-like face. Johan feared leaving her. Without him, she wouldn’t have regained her humanity during the fight in that parking lot.

Alex gave Yareli nervous glances, fearful of being alone with her. Thankfully, Samuel volunteered to stay behind and watch over things. Johan hoped his presence would help soothe Yareli’s restless spirit. Their mutual friend was curled up in a corner, pointedly wanting to be alone.

“Don’t worry, Yareli—or rather, Mallory. We’ll figure this out. You’re not a monster, and you’ll never be one,” Johan thought.

---

“You’re back,” Christakis Schinis said, failing to keep the tremble out of his voice. “How did you find this place?”

“I have my ways,” Haken replied, stumbling into the room. Crimson bled through his shirt from a wound Fenrir had given him. Though he’d escaped the police station alive, the rest of his friends weren’t as lucky. With their leader dead, they’d fled in random directions, making them easy prey for the Bifrost police. Without Selim, their gang was rudderless.

“What do you want?” Schinis asked.

A bag slammed against a nearby desk. The black-market arms dealer cautiously peeked inside and gasped—it was filled with money. It represented Niflhel’s entire savings.

“I want you to build me more Angra Armlets. This should be enough to make hundreds.”

“You want more?” Schinis’ eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

“Money is money, right?” There was a threat in Haken’s voice. “What does it matter what I use it for?” The man sold guns and black-market tech—this was hardly the time to grow a conscience. 

A smile crept across Haken’s face as he saw the naked greed in Schinis’ eyes. Just as he suspected—morals melted away in the presence of money.

“This time, we’re using better materials. And upgrading their specs.” Haken had spent enough time with the Angra Armlets to understand their design. 

He already had ideas for improvement. Ymir and Bifrost had underestimated him. They might have defeated Niflhel—but so long as he lived, the gang would never truly die. They would pay for Selim’s death. All of them would.

A sly grin spread across Schinis’ face. “I’m sure we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

A cough made both men jump.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” a voice said.

“The cops!” Schinis blurted, terrified.

“Show yourself!” Haken shouted, drawing his Uhyre Key and attaching an Angra Armlet he’d grabbed during his escape. He itched for payback.

Much to their surprise, a man in an expensive suit stepped into the room, followed by a burly bodyguard easily a meter taller.

“Who the hell are you?” Haken demanded.

“My name is Sten Simensen, president of Ophion Industries,” the suited man said.

Haken blinked. “Sorry?”

Greed overtook Schinis again. “Are you here for business? I’m well accustomed to…discreet deals.”

Simensen’s face twisted in disgust before settling into a serene expression. “That won’t be necessary. I’m here to kill you.”

“What?” Schinis’ voice pitched upward in panic.

“I don’t want a repeat of what happened.” Simensen’s tone remained calm. “I may not be native to Bifrost, but I’ve grown to love this city. I don’t appreciate the chaos you've caused.”

Just another self-righteous fool. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Terrorize!”

Haken transformed into a monstrous ape, smashing a nearby table into splinters.

“While this is a bit premature for a test run, I suppose it’s for a worthy cause.” Simensen casually withdrew a belt identical to the one Fenrir had used. From his pocket, he produced an Uhyre Key emblazoned with a serpent symbol and inserted it into the belt. “Henshin.”

Purple flames surged around Simensen, coalescing into armor. Violet scales hardened into sleek body plating, sharp white spikes lining his arms and legs. A fanged helm formed over his face, its glowing white eyes crackling with electricity.

“Call me Kamen Rider Jörmungandr.” Simensen flicked his wrist, summoning a sword shaped like a serpent’s tail. “Shall we begin the show?”

Crap. Should he run? No—he could handle this.

Haken slammed his massive fists together and charged. In a blink, he was on top of Simensen, swinging a crushing blow.

But he struck only air.

Jörmungandr stood behind him.

How?!

Haken lashed out with his other fist—only to scream in pain as the blade carved into his hand. Despite his overwhelming strength, Jörmungandr effortlessly held him at bay. Haken watched in horror as the wound blackened, his stomach churning at the grisly sight.

“Did you know,” Simensen said casually, “in the legends, the Midgard Serpent’s venom killed the god Thor during Ragnarök?”

“Damn you!” His vision blurred as poison surged through Haken’s veins. The blackened infection crawled up his arm.

Desperate, he charged again, only for Simensen to slash across his chest. Haken’s monstrous form collapsed, his transformation shattering. Despite his massive framee, the venom had paralyzed him completely.

“Quite a successful test run,” Simensen said, pulling out his key and returning to normal. “The power is… extraordinary.”

“Please don’t kill me!” Schinis begged, collapsing to his knees. “I can help! I have contacts—anything you need!”

“James, deal with this man,” Simensen gave a bored wave, already turning to leave.

“No, please—!”

The bodyguard raised a pistol and put a bullet through Schinis’ temple.

“Excellent. Dispose of both of them,” Simensen said with a light chuckle. “They’ve polluted Bifrost’s streets long enough.”

Haken wanted to scream, to run, to fight—but he couldn’t move. The venom had stolen his strength.

With cold efficiency, James pointed the gun at Haken’s head and pulled the trigger.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 16

“Ilma, report,” President Wilson said, tapping an earpiece. Around him, his allies watched the police station with pensive expressions.

“I’ve disabled their escape vehicle and the two Niflhel guarding it. They won’t escape,” Ilma reported with her usual professional calm. It had always impressed Wilson how cool the young woman kept under pressure. “I’m moving in to assist the other Valkyries.”

“Be careful, Ilma,” Reine said. “The other girls are doing their best, but they’re outnumbered horribly.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll join them shortly.” While Wilson had agreed to Ymir’s premier idol joining the Valkyries, this was beyond anything he’d ever intended. Even being this close made him nervous. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

“Huh? Impossible.” Reine’s voice broke in sheer disbelief.

“What happened? Report!” Wilson said, worried something terrible had befallen his Valkyries.

“It can’t be,” Abbey said, breathless.

“Report, what happened?” Wilson said, his voice more forceful.

“President, that biker girl is a living skeleton!” Reine replied. “Like a real skeleton.”

“That explains why she always wears a helmet.” Pihu’s tone was thoughtful and curious, her inner scientist clearly fascinated.

“So they found out, huh?” Dino said. “That girl is just full of mysteries.”

“President, what’s going on?” Reine asked, her voice demanding answers. “You don’t seem surprised by this.”

“Yes, what is going on?” Abbey said, her tone sharp-edged.

“Is this why she has a grudge against us?” Pihu asked, considering the possibilities. “Did we do this to her?”

“Is she a failed experiment or something?” Abbey asked.

“Experiment…” Reine’s voice turned distant and thoughtful.

Before Wilson could interrupt to restore some calm, Halvorsen intervened. “We’ll discuss this later. Focus on neutralizing the Niflhel threat. Ilma, assist the others. President Wilson, there’s a nearby fire escape you can use to access the parking lot.”

“Acknowledged,” Ilma replied.

“Hurry, those sick bastards are torturing Fenrir’s friend for fun!” Abbey said before signing off.

Wilson’s expression hardened. While he had little love for Fenrir and her Jotnar troublemakers, he refused to allow such obscenities to continue. He darted toward the fire escape Halvorsen had mentioned, his boot cracking it open. Even without his transformation, he was a strong man. “Don’t worry. We’ll arrive soon. Help if you can, but don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Understood,” Pihu replied.

“Reine, keep an eye out for the approaching army,” Halvorsen said. “We can coordinate our efforts once they arrive.”

“Huh?” Reine said, distracted. “Right. Go get them, President!”

Agonized screams echoed through the parking lot at they entered, making Wilson’s blood burn even hotter. He spotted Selim and his ilk standing around a young man covered in blood. The skeletal Fenrir watched helplessly as the Niflhel hurt her friend. The Niflhel leader stood guard, preventing her from doing anything. As his Valkyries had warned, their enemy numbered over a dozen. Yet Wilson remained unafraid, eager to punish these bastards for misusing Ymir’s technology. He withdrew his Uhyre key and readied it to transform, but froze when an ear-splitting anguished scream pierced the scene.

“What?” Much to Wilson’s shock, Fenrir transformed without her belt, morphing into a literal monster. She charged the Niflhel with reckless abandon, causing them to scatter. The coppery scent of blood filled the parking lot as her claws shredded the fur of a dog creature.

“Boss?” Dino eyed the rampaging Fenrir with uncertainty.

“Has her extreme drive to survive triggered a resonating effect with her Uhyre key?” Halvorsen said, muttering to himself. What was the scientist talking about? Wilson had suspected he knew more about Fenrir than he’d first claimed.

The sheer power of her new form was astonishing. Her claws severed the head of a hawk Niflhel who’d gotten too close, bypassing the defenses the Angra Armlet should have provided. Even the untransformed Niflhel weren’t immune to her wrath, sharing in the bloodbath. It was a terrible sight. Could she even tell friend from foe any longer? Pihu’s screams as Fenrir dug her claws into her chest armor answered that question.

“Ilma, help the others escape,” Halvorsen said, taking charge. “When they’re a safe distance, help Wilson subdue Fenrir. Everyone else, help evacuate anyone you can, but don’t take any stupid risks.”

“Understood.”

“President, the Niflhel have become a secondary threat.” Halvorsen said. “We need to stop Fenrir’s rampage before it breaks out into a civilian area. If she chases after the fleeing Niflhel, it will be disastrous.”

“I don’t recall agreeing I’d take orders from you, Halvorsen,” Wilson thought. But he didn’t argue. Fenrir had lost all control.

“With the Niflhel scattered, they shouldn’t be as difficult to subdue. Dino work with the others to catch the fleeing Niflhel. I will deal with Fenrir personally.”

“Okay, Boss. It’s your funeral.” While hesitant, Dino accepted his orders. “Terrorize.”

Wilson watched as his men charged into the fray. He stood behind, getting a lock on Fenrir. She was fighting the Niflhel leader, her claws a blur. Green ichor oozed from an arm where he’d been cut. He attempted to web her, but Fenrir dodged away without missing a beat.

“I should have known it’d come to this, Fenrir. It’s our destiny to fight each other, isn’t it? Terrorize.”

---

“No, please! I ain’t done nothing to you. Please, I—” The man didn’t get to finish. His pitiful screams were his final words before his body went still. Johan watched in gobsmacked horror as the parking garage turned into total chaos.

“Lad, we need to flee, now!” Eldred pulled Johan away from the fighting, taking special care to avoid exasperating his injuries. Thankfully, the Niflhel ignored them, more focused on fleeing or fighting the berserk Yareli. Their leader, Selim, tried reining them in to launch a counterattack, but his goons were more interested in saving their sorry behinds. As they fled, Johan spotted Yareli’s Uhyre key and pocketed it.

“You okay?” Eldred said, examining Johan’s wounds. “The bastards beat you up pretty bad.”

Johan only replied with a pained grunt, tears stinging his eyes from the pain. The older man opened his phone while applying pressure to Johan’s injuries, terrified the younger man might bleed to death before help arrived. The line was no use, however, held up by the current crisis.

“Let me see. I have some medical training,” a Valkyrie said, dashing up to them. She towered over them, standing almost a meter taller than Johan.

“Um…” Johan recoiled, wondering if he should trust the Valkyrie. They were Ymir’s lackeys, after all.

“I’m here to help,” the woman said in a calming tone. “I have no intention of letting you bleed to death.” She paused, listening to something Johan couldn’t hear. It must be a comm unit.

“The army will arrive soon. They will have medics that can help you,” the Valkyrie said. “My name is Abbey. We need to get you to safety. My sisters are evacuating anyone they can.” 

In the distance, he spotted another Valkyrie pulling an injured Niflhel away from the battlefield. Abbey pulled out a white spray bottle, and a clear gel sprayed into Johan’s wounds. He sighed in relief as the pain ebbed, and the bleeding slowed. Once the medspray did its work, she applied bandages to his wounds with practiced hands.

“This will only offer a temporary seal on your wounds. Your injuries are serious. You need a doctor,” Abbey said.

“No, I have to help Yareli!” Johan said, pushing the Valkyrie away. “Someone has to stop her rampage!”

“Yareli?” The Valkyrie tilted her head, and Johan cursed his careless tongue.

“Lad, be reasonable,” Eldred said. “You can’t do anything.”

“Yes, I can. I can reach her.” Johan hardened his voice. While he’d been in the thick of things, he’d feared Yareli would gut him like everyone else. Instead, she’d protected him, throwing away the Niflhel tormenting him. Despite the pain, he stood back on his feet.

“Idiot.” Eldred shook his head in disbelief.

Before Abbey could respond, several monsters charged onto the scene. Johan cursed, believing it was Niflhel reinforcements, but the rooster monster leading the charge caught his attention. Johan recognized this monster from Yareli’s story—Mark Wilson, President of Ymir. He seemed on a warpath as he stomped toward Yareli.

“Who the hell are you? You aren’t one of my men!” Selim howled as a punch drove him through a pillar.

“Mark Wilson. I’m cleaning up my messes. You Niflhel have caused enough damage.” Much to Johan’s shock, Wilson caught Yareli’s claw with one hand, and a powerful headbutt caused her to collapse to the pavement, dazed. A fist to the gut made the wolf creature double over as she went still.

“That’s the president for you,” Abbey said, impressed.

“I don’t know what you’ve become, Fenrir. But, as usual, you don’t seem very sturdy.” Satisfied she wouldn’t cause him any more trouble, Wilson turned his attention toward Selim. “I’d rather not have any distractions when I deal with you.”

“I won’t lose so easily.” Despite Selim’s bravado, Johan heard the fear beneath his monstrous voice. He tensed as an uninjured Valkyrie stepped forward.

“Don’t worry about him. Capture Fenrir.” Wilson nodded toward Yareli’s prone form. “She shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”

“Understood.” Johan recognized the voice. Ilma—the same Valkyrie from Ymir’s secret facility.

“No, you don’t,” Johan snapped, throwing caution aside. He slammed the Uhyre key into his armlet. “Terrorize!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eldred shouted.

“Get him to safety,” Johan told Abbey, who had already reached for her weapon. Her armor was battered, but she would fight if pressed. “Isn’t protecting civilians your job?”

The Valkyrie hesitated, caught between two bad options. Johan didn’t wait. He felt his wounds stitching together, his monster form accelerating his healing. Abbey watched helplessly as Johan lunged at her leader before dragging Eldred toward an exit.

Ilma dodged with inhuman grace. Johan cried out as her blade carved a line across his face. She circled him, fearless against the boar monster towering over her. Johan moved to shield Yareli with his body. Even knowing she didn’t need air, panic surged through him as he realized—she wasn’t moving.

A sharp sting stabbed in his leg, dropping to one knee. He swung a clumsy fist at her helmeted face, but she slipped under the blow with ease. Ilma picked him apart, each strike exploiting his weak points. He couldn’t win this. But he wouldn’t abandon Yareli.

Selim wasn’t faring much better. A point-blank sonic blast hurled him through a pillar. Luck turned against Johan as his armlet fizzled. He stumbled, reverting to human form.

“Out of power already?” Johan said, uttering a curse.

“Surrender,” Ilma said coldly. “It’s over.”

Then Yareli moved. 

Ilma recoiled as Yareli sprang up, a deep gash torn into her armor. She slashed at Ilma’s neck. The Valkyrie parried, a kick driving Yareli back. But the skeletal wolf creature only grew more enraged. 

Johan’s eyes widened—cracks were spiderwebbing across his friend’s skeletal body. “She’s falling apart. She’ll die if this keeps up.”

Still, Yareli attacked—savage, relentless. Ilma countered every blow with calm precision. The damage to Yareli worsened with each exchange.

“Enough, Yareli!” He reached out a hand towards his friend. “We’ve lost! If you keep going, you’ll—”

Johan screamed as Yareli slashed his face. Blood ran down his chin. He caught her, holding her tight.

“Please. No more.”

Yareli snarled, fangs bared—ready to kill. Then... she stopped. Blood trickled onto her face. She looked at him—and recognition in her empty eye sockets. Johan wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he knew.

“Johan?” The voice from her skull was ragged.

“Yes. It’s me.” His voice was soft. “It’s over. Please stop.”

“I hurt you…” Pain seeped from her words. She looked around—at the destruction she’s unwillingly caused—and collapsed as all strength left her.

“I did this… didn’t I?” Tears poured from her empty, skeletal canine sockets.

Johan held her close. “It’s okay.”

A shadow loomed above. He shoved her aside just as a sword slammed down between them.

“What are you doing?!” Johan shouted, furious.

“Eliminating Fenrir. I will destroy her before she becomes a threat again.” The Valkyrie’s voice was icy.

What the hell was her problem with Yareli?! They were vulnerable. He had to think fast.

Johan’s hand brushed his pocket. The Uhyre key. Yareli’s key.

She still had her belt. Maybe—

“We can still fight,” he said, pulling it out.

“Oh, so that’s where it went.” Yareli’s claws gestured vaguely. “Could you insert it for me? My hands are kinda useless.”

“Let’s kick her ass!” Johan smirked, sliding the key into her Ragnadriver.

“Henshin!”

Sparkles burst from the device. For a moment, Johan feared it would fail—but her armor shifted, morphing to fit her monstrous body. Still red, but sharper. More primal. 

“What is this?” Wilson murmured. “Her power… evolved?”

“An evolution?” Ilma echoed, intrigued.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Selim rasped, staggering to his feet.

“Call this… Beast Form!” Yareli roared.

She charged Ilma—no tactics, just fury. Ilma moved to counter, but Yareli’s wild barrage overwhelmed her. The Valkyrie fought with deadly skill—but her strikes glanced off Fenrir’s new armor. One brutal kick sent Ilma crashing through a concrete wall.

“I’m not done yet.” Ilma stumbled forward, her armor a mangled mess, barely holding together.

Yareli roared and her claws raised for the killing blow.

“Yareli, don’t!” Johan screamed.

She froze, clutching her head.

“I’m fine,” she gasped. “It’s hard… to control this form.”

That hesitation gave Wilson his opening. His sonic cry blasted her across the parking lot. She flipped midair and landed on her feet, growling. Then she charged at him again.

Johan’s heart sank as he saw Selim slip through the stairwell door.

“Damn it”. Johan couldn’t let him escape—not with Abbey and Eldred up there. He turned to follow, limping. Each step sent a spike of pain, but he fought forward anyway. 

“I hope that new form lets you win, Yareli.” He clenched his sword and entered the stairwell.

“Terrorize.” Nothing. Johan armlet sparked before dying again. “Wonderful. No power at all!” He cursed before limping up the stairs, each step sapping his lagging strength. His sword would have to do.

He heard footsteps above. Selim. Johan climbed. The trail ended at the first-floor door. He threw it open—ducked—just as an electrified web blasted past him, setting the door ablaze.

“So you’re the one who followed me?” Selim stood in a bland corridor, alone. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Your face pisses me off.” Johan raised his sword. Since he’d come to Bifrost, Selim and his Niflhed had tormented him. He’d had enough.

“Can you even transform?” Selim said, scoffing. The spider beast circled around him, though Johan sensed his weakness. The Niflhed leader’s leg had suffered serious injuries, and he walked with a terrible limp. One slip-up, and Johan could finish him.

Still, this is a crazy long shot. That carapace looks thick. Inspiration struck as he saw the slot protruding from his sword. He’d almost forgotten about it, unable to use it because of his transformation.

Selim gave a contemptuous snort. “It will only take a single swipe to finish you.” Without warning, the monster struck.

With the spider monster’s speed, Johan knew dodging would be impossible. His only chance of winning was to stand firm. He inserted his Uhyre key into his sword and slashed forward, meeting Selim’s charge head-on. His sword blazed to life, glowing golden with the brightness of a thousand suns. It caught Selim’s extended claw and dug into it.

“Flame Strike!”

The spider monster howled in pain and surprise, and Johan’s blade continued further, cutting and burning through the Niflhed leader’s thick exoskeleton like paper. A strangled gurgle of pain escaped Selim’s mandibles as the blade impaled him. The sword continued to burn, emitting an odor that made Johan gag.

“No.” Selim used his dying breath to rip Johan apart with his remaining claws, but his life extinguished first, and he collapsed, lifeless.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 15

“Nice sword you’ve got there.” One Niflhel said, pulling out his Uhyre key as he approached. “Where did trash like you steal it from? Terrorize!” Wings sprouted from the man’s arms, his flesh graying and rotting as the bat creature transformed.

“It’ll be a nice souvenir for the boss. Terrorize.” Chunks of the mangy dog-like creature’s fur slipped off as the other thug transformed.

Instead of replying, Johan kept his blade extended, waiting for his three opponents to make the first move. While the fox and dog creature moved to surround him, the bat monster took to the air, unleashing a shriek that made Johan instinctively flinch.

“Get him.” The Niflhel jumped him at once.

Claws raked at Johan’s face, hoping to gouge his eyes out. Only a quick raise of his sword deflected the fox monster’s attack. The other aimed at Johan’s midsection while he was distracted, his massive razor-sharp fangs missing by a hair as Johan pivoted away. He howled as the bat creature’s claws swooped from the air and chunks of fur tore away from his back. Johan retaliated with a backward sword swipe, but the little guy was deceptively quick. Blood oozed from Johan’s sword arm as the dog monster’s fang bit into him, its grip like a vice.

“Nice going, Rev.” The fox monster smirked as Johan struggled against his comrade’s jaws, moving in for the kill. “We’ve got him pinned. Let’s finish him.”

“Oh crap!” Johan said, heart pounding in terror.

“You need to learn something, Johan.” The fox bastard circled around him, taking his time killing his prey. “We Niflhel are predators, apex amongst this concrete jungle. And you are our prey, little piggy.”

Johan seethed, refusing to be anyone’s prey. The pain disappeared, replaced with blinding fury. The wolf monster flailed in sudden blind panic as Johan lifted him high before slamming him hard against Rev, who’d been ready to pounce.

A pained wheeze escaped the wolf monster’s lips, forcing him to release his victim. Rev groaned, struggling to push away the larger Niflhel that’d landed on him.

“Bastard!” The bat monster slashed at Johan’s face, his claws leaving red stains across his cheek. Victor took advantage of his opponent’s distraction, slashing at Johan’s blind side.

But time slowed as Johan’s strange power manifested again, the monsters’ future actions becoming plain. Victor crumpled as a fist slammed into the fox monster’s ribs, an audible crack from the impact.

The wolf monster’s legs wobbled as he struggled to stand, eyes fearful as Dillon’s armlet shattered under Johan’s foot. He retreated a step as the boar directed his ire toward him, only to regain his courage a moment later.

“Die!” Rev’s claws lashed wildly at his opponent. But even without his predictions, Johan saw through his clumsy attack. Bone cracked as Johan’s tusks made an ugly mess of Rev’s uglier mug. The monster whimpered in pain, howling as Johan’s blade cleaved through his Angra Armlet.

“What?!” The detransforming wolf monster grabbed at his chest, gasping for air. His fearful eyes rolled backward and he collapsed. Johan’s eyes widened, unsure if the man was still breathing.

“Oh, crap!” The bat monster flew out of Johan’s reach, not wanting a piece of his so-called weakling Jotnar anymore. He disappeared on the horizon, vanishing from sight.

Johan stared at his fist, awed by the power he possessed when he embraced the bestial nature of his new form. The strange prediction power had manifested again. He stared at a crow passing overhead, trying to predict its path. But his strange future sight never manifested, much to Johan’s frustration. Did it only work on instinct? Whatever. A problem he’d solve later.

With the police station crawling with Niflhel, Johan feared he might arrive too late to help Yareli. After giving the fallen Rev another look, he charged toward his destination. He didn’t check if the former wolf monster was alive. Some things were best left unknown.

---

The station was a terrible sight. Johan avoided glass as he explored the hallways, pausing when he stumbled across the bodies of older men who definitely weren’t police officers. Johan’s heart seized in his chest, horrified at such a terrible waste. He gripped his sword so hard, the metal squealed in protest. These brave men had sacrificed themselves to fight the Niflhel. Those monsters would pay dearly for this outrage.

The entire station was eerily quiet as Johan passed over more bodies—officers mangled by teeth and claw, the coppery scent of blood choking. The silence heightened Johan’s nerves as he wandered the mazelike halls blind. He almost lost his footing when gunfire rang through the corridor. Johan blinked. Had something hit him?

“Monster!” a man yelled from behind the welcome desk. “You aren’t getting any further.” Johan blinked as another bullet struck his boar form’s head.

“I’m a friend. I’m here to help!” A bullet between Johan’s eyes was the man’s response.

“I’m disengaging my Uhyre key. That should prove I’m not a Niflhel. They’re my enemy too.” Arms raised, Johan removed his key, transforming back to normal. He prayed this offer of trust wouldn’t get him a bullet in the skull.

“Who are you?” The man was over sixty, keeping his rifle steady with a practiced skill. He pointed it toward Johan’s head as he emerged from his hiding spot.

“Johan. I’m here to help.”

The man scratched his balding scalp before nodding and lowering his weapon. “Sorry about that. You scared the daylights out of me. I thought I was a goner. Steal that thingamabob from the Niflhel? Good lad. Glad something’s finally going our way. The name’s Eldred Cornell.”

“I’m looking for a girl in a biker suit. She’s a friend. She’s helping me fight the Niflhel.”

“That crazy girl? Yeah, she rode a motorcycle through the building heading that way.” Eldred pointed down a right hallway.

“Thanks.” Johan sped off down a hall, weaving between desks that’d been used as makeshift barriers. Much to his surprise, the older man followed behind him.

“You can’t come along. It’s dangerous!”

“Young man, I’ve got my pride. In the old days, I worked as a beat cop. I’m not letting a civy fight those monsters alone.” Eldred’s face extended into a grim smile. “Besides, you’ll need my help to navigate this building. I have an idea where your friend’s at.”

“Okay,” Johan replied after some reluctance. “But I might not be capable of protecting you, old-timer.”

Eldred snorted, snapping another clip into his rifle. “I’m not finished yet. Follow me.”

They walked in silence, alert for any approaching trouble. Eldred eyed Johan’s sheathed sword with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. His guide directed him around the elevators toward a nearby door leading to a staircase.

“I overheard the Niflhel talking about heading toward the back parking lot. They have several escape vehicles down there. It’s on the bottom floor. If we hurry, we can catch up to them.”

“Wait, escape? They’ve rescued their friends already?”

“Reinforcements will arrive soon. The governor has called up the army to help. We only need to stall them until they arrive. I’d be careful they don’t confuse you for the Niflhel.”

They dashed down the stairs, taking three at a time. Despite his advanced age, Eldred kept pace. Up ahead, they heard sounds of fighting. Johan’s heart soared when he heard Yareli’s familiar voice and increased his step.

“Hey, slow down,” Eldred said behind him. “Rushing in will only get us killed.” Johan paused at the door leading to the bottom floor and waited for his ally to catch up.

Johan heeded the older man’s advice, peeking inside the door first. His heart pounded as he spotted Yareli and a Valkyrie surrounded by enemies. While many Niflhel had fallen, their great numbers seemed insurmountable. Both armored girls had taken a beating—the Valkyrie’s armor crumbling in some places, one wing nothing but twisted metal. She used a broken lance to fend off her attackers, making them work hard for their apparent victory. He spotted several untransformed thugs watching from behind some cars—the Niflhel they’d come to rescue.

“Yareli, behind you!” Johan’s heart almost leapt from his throat as Selim appeared from nowhere, kicking his friend through a nearby car.

As Yareli struggled to stand, another Niflhel—a hawk monster—swooped down toward her, raking her with his claws. Yareli stumbled, her legs losing all their remaining strength.

“So much for the great hero!” Selim leisurely strode toward Yareli, a spidery leg pointing its bladed edge at her throat.

Eldred watched the scene, terrified, unsure how they could turn the tide of this battle.

“Get ready,” Johan whispered, unsheathing his weapon. He pointed toward the leader, his terrified ally nodding in understanding.

Keeping his steps as quiet as possible, Johan crept toward an optimal ambushing spot. Sweat made his key slippery as he palmed it tight, fearing even breathing too hard might alert his enemies. Rage bubbled beneath the surface as Selim stabbed a claw into his friend, enjoying torturing her. His hiss of anger caught the hawk monster’s sharp hearing, its beady eye narrowing. Before the Niflhel could shout a warning, Eldred took the shot, hitting Selim’s spider form right between the eyes.

“Huh?” While unharmed, the shot momentarily startled the Niflhel leader.

“Terrorize!” The concrete cracked under Johan’s feet as his body mass increased tenfold, and he threw himself into the fray. Two Niflhel noticed the charge, moving in to intercede. They harried the boar monster, using their superior numbers to tear apart any possible defense. Red-hot pain scorched his midsection as the hawk monster’s talons slashed into Johan’s belly.

“Johan, eh?” Selim said, amused. “Seems you’ve toughened up. Pity it won’t mean anything.”

“Look out!” Yareli rushed to his rescue, switching her weapon to gun mode as she blasted a dog monster approaching Johan from behind. But her warning came too late.

Selim’s mandibles sparked, pain lancing across Johan’s arm as webbing constricted around it. His entire body jerked as countless volts of electricity surged through his system. His sword slipped from his numbed hand, clattering to the ground. Fear spiked into his heart as the hawk monster slunk toward him, its feverish eyes eager to gore the helpless Jotnar further. But the Niflhel didn’t get a chance to finish his dirty deed—scorching holes burned in his chest as Yareli shot him point-blank.

“He used the same trick on me,” Yareli said, taking a protective stand before her friend. “Give it a few minutes, and you’ll be fine.”

Blinded by fury at the dispatch of one of his minions, Selim engaged Fenrir toe-to-toe. Johan watched helplessly as Yareli struggled to defend against eight wild limbs that lashed out at her, each striking from an unpredictable angle. The Valkyrie tried to assist, but the other Niflhel kept her engaged.

An appendage broke past Fenrir’s defenses, the impact crumpling a parked car. Her armor flashed, and her transformation failed. She collapsed in the remains of the battered vehicle, unmoving. The paralysis stunning Johan waned, but the hawk monster drove his legs out from under him before he could rush to Yareli’s aid. Another Niflhel, a rhino monster, slammed his rock-hard fist into Johan’s back, ensuring he stayed down. 

“Finally, I can see your face, Racer Wolf. Who are you?” Selim said, standing over Yareli’s prone form. He extended a limb and smashed her head against the ruined vehicle’s windshield, shattering her helmet.

“What?” Selim retreated a step in shock, his black orb-like eyes widening to dinner plates. His Niflhel stopped whatever sick game they planned to play with Johan and stared in stunned amazement.

“What is she?” the Valkyrie said, breathless.

Johan used the distraction to stagger back to his feet, recovering his sword. The rhino  monster howled as Johan severed the arm holding his Angra Armlet clean through the bone, viscous liquid sprouting from the bloody stump.

Selim ignored his minion’s whimper of pain as his transformation failed, continuing to stare at Yareli’s skeletal form. “Fascinating. Are you even human? And people call me a monster?”

“Bastard!” More Niflhel moved to block Johan’s path. Eager to avenge their fallen comrade, they tore into the boar monster’s body as he rushed to Yareli’s side. But the bloody chunks torn from his flesh didn’t matter. Johan would save his friend, even if it meant cutting down everyone in this room.

“Johan!” Yareli struggled to reinsert her Uhyre Key, but Selim kicked her Ragnadriver away.

“Enough of that. It’s over, monster girl.” Despite not possessing any facial features, hate emanated from her skeletal glare.

“Haken, how long until the army arrives?” Selim asked, his spider features grimacing as the hawk Niflhel’s fragile bones crumpled under Johan, collapsing in a broken heap.

“Some time,” the large man replied. “Our boys are harassing them, but we can’t stay forever.”

“Good, we can have some fun first.” Selim’s monstrous spider face turned cruel. “Monster girl can watch as we rip the life from her boyfriend here.”

“No!” Horror and despair haunted Yareli’s voice as she struggled to push herself up. Her body jolted as Selim laughed, pinning her with a leg.

Fire erupted in Johan’s middle as a mangy dog monster dug deep into his already open, festering stomach wound, nearly gutting him. The bastard was careful to keep his wounds from being life-threatening. His vision blurred—he almost passed out from the pain. Johan felt his transformation slipping away, the Niflhel hurling insults as they beat him.

“Johan!” Was that his imagination, or were tears flowing from his friend’s eyeholes? That was impossible. Skeletons didn’t have tear ducts. In response, Selim’s legs pressed her harder against the broken car’s remains, but she only grunted, more concerned about her friend. She gasped in horror as Johan’s transformation finally failed, the dog monster’s claws grabbing the helpless Jotnar by the throat.

“You can’t feel pain?” Selim said, irritated. “Whatever—Johan can feel pain for you both. Wrap it up, boys. Time is short.” He eyed the Valkyrie, wondering if she’d intervene. His evil, bulbous spider eyes challenged her to try something foolish but heroic.

“Got it, Boss.” Johan flailed, trying anything to free himself from the dog monster’s impossible grip. But it proved fruitless—Johan turned blue as the monster stole his ability to breathe.

“No!” The sudden sharp loudness of Yareli’s voice made everyone flinch. That single word had transformed her anguish into red-hot fury.

“I won’t allow it!” Much to everyone’s shock, a blow from Yareli’s arm hurled the Niflhel leader aside like he weighed nothing. Yareli unleashed a roar of primal fury that seemed to shake the entire building. Her bleached white bones reddened, becoming the color of blood. Her bike suit snapped as her skeleton expanded, adopting a more beastly posture. Any human features of her skull vanished, becoming more canine in appearance. She hunched over as her spine extended, her arms nearly reaching the floor. Her black sockets seemed to stare into them. They looked hungry.

“Yareli?” Johan said, stunned.

“What is this?” The Niflhel backed away in fright as they faced a true predator—one eager for blood and vengeance. Yareli unleashed another primal roar before charging the monsters that dared hurt her friend.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 14

“The cavalry is coming, right?” Johnson shot the reinforced steel door another nervous glance, and Anderson couldn’t blame the kid. The situation was well beyond their pay grade. Tension hung in the air, each officer fighting hard to maintain their professional calm.

“We won’t be abandoned. I’m sure some military response is already coming,” Anderson replied. “The more important question is, how will Ymir respond to this crisis?”

While he doubted Wilson would abandon them, could Ymir muster a strong enough force to combat the Niflhel? Almost nothing seemed to hurt these creatures. Paul had devised makeshift Molotov cocktails, but the explosions only annoyed the monsters.

Only tear gas seemed their most effective weapon against the rampaging Niflhel. The monstrosities still needed their eyes, after all. Only poor Lana’s quick thinking had allowed them to escape alive with the prisoners. It had cost the officer her life.

They were currently taking refuge in a special prison designed to hold dangerous and high-risk inmates—the most secure part of the police department. While a cardboard barrier against the almost invincible monsters, Anderson would accept any advantage he could get. Luckily, the Niflhel weren’t very smart, toying with their prey first. It bought precious time to gather their forces and regroup.

“And we’re stuck here, unable to protect the public. Those animals are out there in my city, causing havoc,” Anderson thought. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to focus on each crisis as it came.

“They damn well better,” Chief Greer said, grunting in his usual gruff voice. “I couldn’t bear the shame if we’re forced to depend on Ymir for our salvation.” Unlike his subordinates, he’d maintained a clear head during the entire crisis. Being ex-military helped. His quick thinking had saved many lives.

Outside, Anderson heard the distant sound of gunfire. He prayed the old-timers were doing alright. They’d basically sacrificed themselves to buy time. While brave, it was a cruel sacrifice. One ex-soldier, Hal, had lost a leg in Afghanistan. He was eager to do his part despite the debilitating injury. He’d been the first to die, giving an innocent woman the time to escape. The sick bastards had taken enjoyment in killing the man for his defiance.

Anderson tensed, hearing another gunshot—closer this time. Behind their jail bars, the still-captive Niflhel sneered.

“Hear that? Selim’s coming for you,” one said.

“You’re rats, trapped and helpless,” another added. “Once you’re dead, what’s stopping us from owning this city?”

“You could beg for mercy, but nah. It’s much more fun seeing you get ripped to shreds!” All nine Niflhel laughed cruelly. Each officer ignored the taunts and jibes, hardening their determination to prove them wrong.

Chief Greer was on his phone, trying to hurry their rescue along. Several surrounding nations had already offered their unconditional support, but mustering any forces required time they didn’t have. They were also uncertain about what level of armaments would be necessary to subdue this threat. Anderson winced as a scream echoed through the halls before going silent. The entire room fell deathly quiet, holding their breaths in nervous anticipation. Anderson almost jumped as something powerful slammed against the thick steel door, leaving an enormous dent.

“Places, everyone,” Chief Greer’s voice remained strong as he gave the command. “They aren’t getting the prisoners without a fight.” Each officer gave a resolute nod, prepared to die for their duty. They held their guns ready. While they wouldn’t inflict much damage, they’d prove a useful distraction for their real plan. Anderson only hoped it’d be enough.

Another dent appeared in the room’s only entrance, bending the meter-thick door further. One final strike blasted the door off its hinges, sliding across the floor before crashing into a far wall.

The long-armed ape creature’s body almost didn’t fit through the door frame as it sauntered in. Behind it was a shorter weasel-like monster with ghostly white fur and dead eyes.

The weasel monster smirked. “Found you. So, you were hiding in the basement. Liam owes me four euros. Don’t worry, boys, we’ll have you rescued soon.” They gave the terrified police officers a lopsided, toothy grin. The monster’s friends cheered, eager to escape.

“Now!” The police opened fire, aiming toward the creature’s head. It yawned, unbothered by the barrage of bullets, strolling toward the officers. They took delight as their prey retreated, helpless to do anything. Their fellows walked behind them, ensuring no possible escape.

“Go.” Anderson placed a handkerchief over his face. They didn’t have enough gas masks for everyone. The two officers tossed the gas canisters between the two monsters, who broke into coughing fits as gas filled the chamber.

The smoke burned Anderson’s throat, but he remained resolute, commanding the next stage of the plan. He waved his hand, and two Molotov cocktails exploded, aimed right at the monster’s Angra Armlets. Immense heat filled the confined space as they exploded, causing Anderson’s ears to ring.

“Did we get them?” Joey’s muffled voice asked.

“Steady.” Each officer kept their weapons trained on the two Niflhel. Anderson cursed when he saw the result of their efforts.

“Damn you, bastards!” While the weasel monster’s steps were sluggish, he recovered quickly. The explosion had only dented his transformation device. The gorilla monster suffered worse damage to his armlet, but he hadn’t lost his transformation either.

“Dammit, those were our last smoke grenades.” They still had another cocktail, but Anderson doubted it would be enough. Worse, their attackers didn’t seem inclined to let them try the same trick twice.

“Kill these bastards!” The weasel monster darted forward at incredible speed, not messing around anymore. Poor Joey died in seconds, torn to bloody pieces with the ease of batting away a fly.

“Shoot the armlet!” It was a desperate plea, but their only shot at accomplishing anything.

It was a bloodbath. Officers he’d known for years—decades—dead in seconds. Some couldn’t even fire their sidearms before their screams faded. Anyone not cut down by the weasel’s claws got pulverized by the gorilla monster’s fists. Much to Anderson’s growing dread, the Niflhel ignored him, intending to play with him once they’d killed everyone else. His sidearm sat in his sweaty palm, useless—not even making the monsters flinch.

The police chief screamed as a meaty fist slammed him against a wall, trying to protect a newbie who’d only been working in their department for a week. While not dead, he’d broken several ribs and twisted his left leg badly.

“Please don’t,” the newbie said, trembling. He’d lost the courage to even discharge his weapon. The gorilla monster’s face extended into a cruel smile, delighting in his victim’s terror. The creature opened a massive fist, ready to grab the man’s head and burst it like a grape.

Without thinking, Anderson jumped on the creature’s arm. His old bones shook as the creature tried to shake him off, but he refused to budge. Looking up, he realized the monster’s armlet was right above him. Was that a hole in its carapace large enough for a bullet to enter?

The shaking became more violent, but his partner spotted him in danger. Johnson shot directly into the back of the creature’s head, earning an annoyed grunt. Seeing his chance, the detective pointed his sidearm at the vulnerable point in the armlet’s armor.

“Fly!”

Pain lanced through Anderson’s body as he struck a nearby wall. Helpless, the gorilla monster sneered in contempt above him. The creature raised a fist to pulverize his victim—only to jerk as its armlet sparked. Bricks shattered as the monster’s arms swung wildly, its face twisted in agony.

“Hakan, what’s wrong?” the weasel monster asked, stepping back in shock as their buddy lost his transformation. The large man grimaced in pain, clutching at his chest. Was he having a heart attack?

“Hakan!” The weasel monster’s alarm grew.

“I’m fine,” Hakan said through pained breaths.

The weasel monster’s face shifted into a furious snarl. “Bastard! You’ll pay for that!”

“Nikita, is everything alright in there?” Another monster appeared through the door, slipping in with cat-like grace. This cat creature had mangy, thick fur that puffed out from its body. Its dead, feline eyes looked toward the prone Anderson with interest. Much to his horror, three more monsters stood outside in the hallway. The scuffle had attracted Nikita’s friends’ attention. There wasn’t any escape now.

“Just give me a moment,” Hakan said, using a nearby wall to support himself. “Focus on rescuing the others.”

Anderson screamed as the weasel monster stomped its bottom claws onto his back, pinning him to the ground. Blood oozed down his spine as the creature’s claw dug into him.

“Free the others. I’m busy.”

The cat monster looked at his injured friend with concern before smirking after seeing the multitude of dead officers.

“Seems you’ve done a good job cleaning up. I doubt there are many cops left in the entirety of Bifrost!”

The cat monster tore the reinforced steel bars from the cell door, granting its comrades their freedom. Johnson backed against the wall, terrified and helpless. The freed prisoners shot him hateful looks, eager for payback against their former captor.

Anderson’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Had Yareli arrived?

“Haken, we’ve got trouble!” a Niflhel shouted.

“Trouble?” another echoed nervously. It was rare to see the monsters unsettled.

“Yes, trouble,” Selim said, untransformed as he stuck his head inside. “The Valkyries are back. Hit-and-run attacks. Roy’s dead.” He gestured at the freed Niflhel. “There’s a van waiting out back. A friend of mine is prepping your new Angra armlets. Move.”

“Are you alright?” The Niflhel leader turned to Haken.” They destroyed your armlet?”

The big man nodded silently. His breathing was still irregular, but he seemed better.

Selim’s expression darkened. “If a few inept cops can break one, the army might cause us serious trouble. Go. We’re short on time.”

The Niflhel obeyed, leaving a shaken Johnson behind. He slumped to the ground, relieved to be alive.

“One moment,” Nikita said, grinning down at Anderson. “I’m not done playing with this one.”

“We’re leaving. Now,” Selim said flatly. “My sources say tanks are en route. I’m not sticking around. We’re splitting up—no easy targets.” The Niflhel leader paused, considering. “Take him with us. He’ll make a decent hostage.”

Anderson cursed as the weasel monster threw him over its shoulder like a sack of laundry. His death had only been delayed—but he was alive, and Yareli was close. That had to count for something.

His phone buzzed again. Carefully, Anderson slipped a hand into his pocket and answered the call. A jolt knocked it from his grip. It hit the floor hard, the screen cracking. His heart pounded—but no one noticed. Chief Greer’s timely groan of pain masked the noise, catching onto the plan.

“Put me down!” Anderson shouted, hoping Yareli could hear. “I’m not going anywhere with you! I’ll fight you all the way to the back parking lot!”

“Shut up.” The weasel monster squeezed, nearly cracking his spine. “Once we’re safe, I’ll tear you apart piece by piece. Maybe scatter your guts across the city.” Nikita laughed cruelly.

“Quit gabbing. Move!” Selim snapped. The weasel monster gave a meek nod and obeyed.

The Niflhel ran through the police station’s halls, unfamiliar with the layout. Anderson smirked when they bypassed the elevator that would’ve taken them straight to the garage. A small win, but he’d take it.

Even if Yareli or the Valkyries showed up, Anderson didn’t rate his chances. Still, he wasn’t about to make things easy. This “helpless” hostage had a few surprises left. He’d show these monsters what Bifrost’s boys in blue were made of.

---

“They have a hostage?” Pihu asked over her helmet comm.

“Yeah,” Abbey replied. “A detective. The weasel one’s carrying him.”

“Damn. How many Niflhel?”

“Eight monsters, including the boss. The rest are untransformed—must be the ones the cops arrested. One looks terrible. He’s armlet broken.”

No surprise. Dr. Halvorsen always ranted about the Angra Armlet’s risks. They warped the body in ways even Ymir didn’t fully understand. One had died outright when Abbey pierced his armlet—the damage to his heart was too much. Not the Valkyries’ proudest moment. Killing was sometimes necessary, but life was still life.

“Five more monsters joining them,” Reine added. The newest Valkyrie had insisted on helping. She wasn’t a fighter, but her sharp eyes and instincts made her useful.

“We’ve taken down seven already,” Abbey said. “But we can’t beat them all.” While fearsome, the Niflhel were only a street gang, thugs without training or tactics. It made them easy prey.

“How long until President Wilson arrives?” Pihu asked.

“What?” Reine sounded stunned. “He’s coming too?”

Dr. Halvorsen snorted. “He has his moments. Five minutes until he arrives.”

“They’re heading for vans,” Pihu said. “We might not have five.”

“I can reach the garage,” Abbey said. “Two guards at the door. No problem. I’ll wreck their escape route.”

“Understood. I’m done marking,” Ilma chimed in. “I’ll join you.”

“Watch yourself,” Pihu warned.

“What the—” Reine blurted. “Someone just rode a motorcycle into the building. Through the halls!”

“A helmet with a painted wolf?” Halvorsen asked, voice tight.

“Yeah. She’s good. You know her?”

“It’s... complicated,” Pihu said. “Don’t worry. She can handle herself. Focus on the Niflhel.”

“Understood,” Ilma said, her usually calm voice carrying a hint of tension. The mere mention of the Kamen Rider had sent their leader on edge. Pihu wondered about the grudge. It seemed incongruous for someone so usually devoid of emotion. 

“I’ll back Fenrir up.” Pihu launched into the air. Her heart soared—she’d always loved flying. Maybe she’d been a bird in a past life. She shattered a window, rolled through the landing, and sprinted toward the stunned Niflhel.

Fenrir leapt from her bike midair, transforming as she flew.

“Henshin!”

The weasel monster howled as Fenrir’s blade slashed his chest, dropping Anderson. The detective twisted free and fell—right into Fenrir’s arms. She hurled the detective in one smooth motion, right onto her bike.

“Get out of here!” she barked.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Anderson groaned, rubbing his sore ribs. “But you could’ve been gentler?”

Pihu covered his escape, intercepting a taloned Niflhel with her blade. After a few stuttering kicks, Anderson got the bike running and sped off.

That was one problem solved. The easy one.

Even through her helmet, Pihu could sense Fenrir’s wariness—like she was bracing for a second fight.

“Relax. I’m not your enemy today,” Pihu said. “We work together. Just this once.”

“Fine by me,” Fenrir replied. No time to argue with enemies closing in.

“Fenrir?” Selim growled, drawing his Uhyre Key. “You couldn’t wait five more minutes? No matter. You die here. Terrorize.”

Sixteen Niflhel surrounded them. Fenrir pressed her back to Pihu’s, undaunted.

“My allies are close,” Pihu whispered.

“Mine too,” Fenrir replied.

Right—Ilma had said one Jotnar had an Angra Armlet.

“Kill them,” Selim ordered.

The parking lot thundered as the terrible horde charged.

“Follow my lead. Let’s make some noise.” Fenrir jammed her key into her weapon. “Torrent Fang!”

A destructive torrent of water blasted a wedge through the monsters, sunlight spilling in through the hole it punched in the wall. Fenrir lunged, slashing one fallen Niflhel’s chest and clawing another’s face.

Pihu joined her, driving her blade into a monster’s throat before it could strike Fenrir from behind. Her ally returned the favor, Fenrir’s claw blinded a Niflhel raising a meaty fist to crush Pihu’s skull. Fenrir fought like a wild animal, a berserker of terrifying fury. Pihu, in contrast, fought with grace, a surgeon operating with delicate precision. Their clashing styles complimented each other surprising well. 

Pihu only hoped it would be enough as the Niflhel surrounded them. 

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 13

“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.

[jonathanvik]

Luyten V - Chapter 23

“Rose!” Her mom pulled her close, Rose’s head against her heart. Tears flowed freely as she reunited with her daughter. While she’d gasped when she saw Rose had gained a new eye color—one which glowed like a cat’s—it didn’t matter. Her father joined the embrace, tears dripping down his thick rimmed spectacles. He smiled at her with open gratitude and pride.

“You son of a…” But Sophia was smiling, beaming as she joined the group hug. Danny came last, glad to have his sister back. He hugged her leg tight, not wanting to let go of his beloved older sister. He hadn’t understood what had happened to her, but Danny had known she’d been hurt. 

Emotion welled inside Rose, overcome with feeling. They’d all assumed they’d never see her again. How close had she been to death?

“Look at my girl,” her mother said, as they finally released the hug. She moved a strand of hair with a finger that had been obscuring one eye. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again.”

“I promise.” It was a ridiculous promise considering they needed her to fight alongside the Luyten V, but she swore she’d never make her mom cry like this again.

“So cool!” Danny said, laughing as he pointed at her red eye. “I want one!”

“What is that?” her dad asked. “I’m glad you’ve kept both eyes, but this is just insane.”

“No clue.” But that wasn’t completely true—Rose had some inkling about what happened. When they’d joined, she’d left with a part of the Luyten V. After all, her robot wasn’t totally mechanical. But what did that mean? Was she not completely human anymore?

“Your daughter seems stable, but we’ll have to run some more tests,” a scientist said, adjusting her glasses. 

Before allowing her to rejoin her family, LUVOLT subjected her to quarantine measures and a thorough physical. Thankfully, she seemed clear of any Altair particles. It was a miracle.

“But she will be alright?” her father pressed.

“We believe so, yes,” the scientist replied.

“Go ahead, take her home. There’s been enough excitement for today?” Sandage said. After President Okona’s near death, the attack of the LUVOLT facility, the alien visitors from another world, and Rose’s unexpected recovery, calling that an understatement would be an understatement. They still didn’t have a body count for the people hurt during the Altair attack on the LUVOLT facility.

But Rose furrowed her brow. “Still no sign of the Altair?”

“No. After the first Altair retreated, the others joined it. The final one attacking the Ectutai ship soon joined them, warned by their hive mind, I imagine,” Sandage smirked at her. “You spooked them, Rose.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be back,” Rose said, her tone souring. “Still—are the Ectutai okay?” The new word sounded odd on her lips. She could still hardly believe her eyes when she’d met their prince. 

“They’ve suffered some serious damage to their ship, but not critically. It should be able to fly, though they’re still parked to do some repairs,” Sandage replied. “I’m guessing it wasn’t a serious attack—more to test the Ectutai’s capabilities.”

“Has the world come to that? We’re actually talking about aliens like they’re real things,” her father said, rubbing his thick mop of hair. Since Rose’s coma, the usually bookish, trim man had let himself go, needing both a haircut and a shave. Rose felt guilty about making him worry so much.

“But they are allies, right?” Rose asked, eyebrow raised. She’d seen sci-fi movies. Aliens rarely had the purest motives, faking friendship so they could snack on unsuspecting humans. Part of her wondered if the Ectutai’s cute appearance was an act to put them off their guard, like in the movie Galaxy Quest.

“You’re not the only one to ask that,” Sandage said with a laugh. The news had been a maelstrom since the Ectutai had appeared—probably the biggest story since the Altair’s appearance. Her news app had been overflowing with new articles since she awoke. “But I think we can trust them.”

“Really?” Rose said, surprised. She’d expected the ex-FBI agent to be more suspicious of their alien visitors. 

“Call it a hunch.” Sandage winked at her. “Now get going. After almost a week stuck here, I bet you want to get home.”

It was still hard to believe she’d been in a coma that long. It was so unreal. “Are you sure? I’m a strange and unique specimen. Don’t you want to dissect me first? It’s what you government types do.”

“Get going.” But Rose heard the laugh behind the LUVOLT agent’s voice.

While pleased to go home, part of Rose worried how others would treat her now. Would they consider her some sort of freaky weirdo now? Should she wear an eyepatch? That’d be kinda cool. And she put a hand over one eye as they drove home, trying it out.

But no, it didn’t feel right to ruin her depth perception just because others might consider her odd. Or should she claim it was a fashion statement—that it was only a colored contact lens? Rose sighed, wondering what she should do about this.

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Sophia said, taking her hand and squeezing it. She was always good at reading Rose’s mind.

“Really?”

“Sure. It’s striking. Fierce.”

“I don’t want to be fierce,” Rose replied with a pout.

“I agree with your sister,” her father said from the driver’s seat. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Now I know that it’s not.” But Rose was smiling, relieved her family accepted this odd change so readily. Her mom even mentioned some fashion choices to match the change. It felt good to be alive.

---

“Um, Tarazed,” Denebokab said, his tone anxious.

Since their retreat from LUVOLT, the Altair general had kept quiet—not even speaking through the hive mind. Finally, after six hours, one of his minions had gathered the courage to speak. But Tarazed remained quiet, not bothering to address the unnecessary distraction. 

The mission had failed. That wasn’t the problem. Sometimes, circumstances were out of your control or some element appeared you couldn’t have anticipated. But the Red Devil’s victory was beyond anything Tarazed had ever expected. Somehow, Rose had defeated certain death. Never, in his vast experience as an Altair general across multiple planes of existence, had he encountered someone cured of their deadly touch. Some had survived by excising the infected tissue, but this wasn’t what Rose of the Red Devil had done.

She was cured! Cured, curse it all! She’d done the impossible and risen stronger than ever. Through the hive mind, Tarazed had seen her take her Red Devil metal monstrosity and make an utter fool of Tseen Foo like it’d been nothing. She’d systematically torn him apart, the metal monstrosity moving with speed that shouldn’t be possible of something of that size. Where? Where had she gotten this strength? Was this how she defeated Okab, too?

“We must recalculate,” Tarazed said finally aloud, startling his two lackeys. So frustrated was he that he’d actually used his physical voice. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t allow the Rose to unsettle him. The Altair counted on his clear thinking to win.

“How?” In his human disguise, Tseen Foo’s mouth widened grotesquely, stretching beyond anything a real human face could allow. “Shall we burn the entire planet? Bombard it from orbit until it’s leveled?”

“What?” Denebokab exclaimed, shocked. “But that would destroy most of the planet’s bio-organisms. We can’t feed or grow if they’re all dead!”

“Who cares? These alien visitors have shown this universe has plenty of other, easier planets to subdue.” Tseen Foo shrugged.

“No!” Denebokab shot back. “That’s just senseless butchery!”

“No one is destroying any planets,” Tarazed interrupted, breaking the argument. “Such wastefulness is counterproductive.”

“Losing our fellow Altair is counterproductive,” Tseen Foo muttered, but the general refused to entertain further debate.

“No. That is final. We must develop a counter-strategy against the Red Devil’s new abilities.”

“I see.” Tseen Foo’s voice remained neutral, but Tarazed sensed the seething rage beneath his calm tone.

How troublesome, Tarazed thought. Never mind. He’d direct that anger into something more productive. “We must learn more about the alien visitors. I severely damaged their spacecraft—not enough to prevent space travel, but enough to weaken them.”

“Hey, I have an idea!” Denebokab piped up like an excitable hatchling. “I’ll infiltrate their ship and learn what I can! And when they take off, I’ll follow them to their home planet.” With their hive-mind, light-years were no obstacle.

“That will suffice,” Tarazed replied. It was a risky plan, but potentially rewarding. Even discovering the location of the aliens’ homeworld would be worthwhile.

“And me?” a sullen cloud of thought wafted from Tseen Foo. “I just sit here while he does the interesting part?”

“No,” Tarazed replied through the link, keeping his tone neutral, betraying nothing of his irritation with Tseen Foo’s petulance. “We will deal with the Red Devil.”

“Okay—how? Or did you miss how it humiliated me?” Tseen Foo snapped.

“It is powerful, yes. But we will be smarter. We will adapt our approach.” The pilot was a fragile human—female, no less. They would exploit that. They would prey on her soft, sentimental weaknesses. And Tarazed knew how.

---

“And she’ll be okay?” Vera asked, her casual tone belied by the worry behind her voice. “Oh, that’s good. Huh, that soon?” She’d be back by Monday? After that infection, Vera had assumed it’d take months to recover. But apparently, Rose was right as rain?

“Thanks, Cecilia. Really, thanks for telling me.” The taller girl had somewhat broken the rules by telling her. Rose’s recovery was supposed to be top-secret until the doctors and scientists finished their examinations. Apparently, her recovery raised all sorts of questions.

Vera was grateful anyway. She’d been sick with worry ever since Rose fell ill, terrified she’d never see her again. What a weight off her shoulders! She should’ve known better—Rose had angels watching over her.

“This is the best news.” Vera practically vibrated with excitement. Monday couldn’t come soon enough. The whole class would be thrilled. And one boy in particular was sure to flip—well, inwardly, anyway. Hans was the strong, silent type. Still, this would undoubtedly get a reaction.

“I wonder if I could convince him to finally ask Rose out.” It was so obvious how much he cared about her. And the two had a great rapport, always earning a smile from Vera on the sidelines. She sighed. If only they’d realize how perfect they were for each other.

“Though… poor Georges.” He’d crushed on Rose for ages, but Vera doubted it would ever work out. Rose needed a mature and steady man, like Hans. And their kids would be cute as a button, no doubt. She could see the wedding already. Vera giggled to herself, imagining herself snatching the bouquet in midair.  

“Everything okay up there, Vera?” her mom called from downstairs. “You’re talking to yourself again!”

“Am I?” Vera winced. Stupid habit. It was like she couldn’t think without speaking aloud. She poked her head out the door. “Everything’s better than fine, Mom! Rose is better now! She’s coming back to school Monday!”

“That’s wonderful! I’ve been so worried about Carol and her family. Our Bible group’s been praying for her non-stop. I can’t wait to tell them!”

“Oh, shoot.” Vera raced to the stairs. Her mom was already reaching for the phone from its perch on the couch, where a game show blared on TV. “Please don’t. Nobody’s supposed to know yet—it’s top secret government stuff!”

“Oh.” Her mom’s smile faded into a disappointed frown. “I suppose the government has been orbiting Rose ever since that horrible robot showed up. Makes you wonder what experiments they ran to cure her.”

“Okay, Mom, now you sound like Georges. I’m sure it’s nothing shady. Just a final check-up or something.” But Vera was burning with curiosity about the cure. Every prognosis she’d heard had been dire, giving her friend little chance for survival. But somehow, Rose had survived. She’d bombard the girl with questions the second she saw her.

“What time is it?” Vera yawned, glancing at her phone. She had an hour before bedtime, even on the weekend—she liked waking up early.

“Should I listen to some music?” She sighed—talking to herself again. A breeze brushed her cheek as she reentered her room.

“Huh?” Her brow furrowed. The window above her bed was wide open. She didn’t remember opening it.

“Whatever.” She shut it and flopped onto her bed, which was covered in a pink floral quilt, one sewed for Vera by her mother. Reaching for her headphones, she paused. Her heart jumped.

What was that? She looked around. Just her usual messy room, scatterbrained like its owner. Still, she could’ve sworn something moved…

Must be tired, she told herself.

Music forgotten, she got ready for bed, brushing her teeth in the adjoining bathroom. Mint exploded across her tongue as she hummed a little tune.

Then—creak. The bathroom door opened a sliver.

A black shape stood in the crack. Vera froze, her heart seizing in her chest. 

The toothbrush clattered into the sink. Her mouth opened to scream—

A hand clamped over her face.

“None of that,” the shadow hissed. Its eyes gleamed with cold malice in the mirror.

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she struggled, anything to slip free and scream for help. But the thing’s grip was like iron, its touch slimy and vile like a wet toad. It smelled cloying sweet, like rotten fruit. 

“You are Rose of the Red Devil’s companion,” it said, voice flat and mechanical. “I’ve seen you in photographs with her at the school. You will serve our purpose.”

I’ve never helped you! Vera screamed in her head, unable to make a sound.

Then pain.

Something stabbed into her belly—fire erupted inside her, like her insides were melting. She gasped as something sticky and unnatural spread under her skin.

“You will become like us,” the creature said, devoid of any emotion despite his heinous deed. 

“You will help us destroy the Red Devil and her infernal machine. You belong to the Altair now… and forever. Welcome.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 12

“I’m done waiting, Chris.” Salem asked without preamble, barging into the black market weapon dealer’s office. “What’s the progress?”

“Hello, Mr. Vagh.” Christakis Schinis replied, his smile strained. “We already have thirty ready for use. While the components aren’t as high quality as Ymir used, they’ll get the job done. You wanted them quick and dirty, remember?”

When Salem didn’t reply, sweat trickled down the old man’s forehead. His fidgeted under the gang’s leader's icy, remorseless gaze. After the lesson he’d taught a rival gang, slaughtered to the man, none dared cross him. Salem enjoyed the terror his Angra Armlet caused in others. 

It won’t be long before they rescued their fellows in police captivity. He’d already recovered nine of his men after the police forced them to scatter. While better than expected, it was woefully short of the Niflhel’s full strength. 

“Always happy to serve! You pay me, and I’ll get anything done.” Schinis replied with some professional pride. 

“Good. Load them in the truck and…” He paused as his lieutenant Haken barged into the room.

“Boss, we have a problem.” The big man said. “It’s the police. They’ve tracked us here.”

“What?” The arms dealer’s eyes widened in alarm, scooping up his laptop, eager for a quick escape.

“Persistent bastards. Are the Valkyries with them?”.

“Hard to say. But dozens of heavily armed officers are outside.” Haken replied. “At least three SWAT squads.”

Selim offered a curse. He’d foolishly believed this old, abandoned office building on the outskirts of Bifrost was an excellent hiding spot. They’d been so careful to avoid being seen.

“They aren’t giving us anywhere to run,” Salem muttered, eyeing his Uhyre key with reverential awe as he played with it. His face extended in a manic smile. “Good, I like a challenge. I’ll buy us some time. A few dozen dead cops should draw those winged rats’ attention, wherever they’re hiding. In the meantime, pass out the Angra Armlet. Won’t the Valkyries be surprised when an army of monsters appears from nowhere to tear out their throats?”

Besides, he’d learned a few tricks the days he’d been hiding away. Those damn Valkyries would pay the cost of humiliating him. If he was lucky, the carnage would also draw Fenrir’s attention. Today would be a wonderful day!

---

“Here.” Paul Davidson passed Rebecca a cup of tea, who nodded in thanks. Its aroma stirred her lagging brain, already perking her up. She’d been up the entire night working on the stolen data from Ymir.

“You still can’t crack what this Surtur computer is working on?” Davidson asked. 

“No.” Rebecca sighed deeply. “Why Ymir needs this insane amount of financial data is beyond me. To best undercut the competition? Why? They’re already a top leader in the tech sector by a large margin.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Davidson gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re a bright young lady.” After giving a polite nod, he retreated from the room, leaving the hacker alone. Red light seeped through the blinds of the windows, indicating it was almost daybreak.

A deep yawn escaped Rebecca’s lips as she fought back her exhaustion, sipping at her drink. Thankfully, it was prepared normally, and not sugary like how the older man preferred. Her teeth still arched from that coffee’s painful sweetness. “It’s getting late. Should I turn in? I’d be a waste of caffeine.” She was a night owl by trade, giving her strange sleeping hours. The Boss used to chastise her for her poor sleeping habits, but she couldn’t help herself. It often left her alone, but Rebecca didn’t mind. 

No, that wasn't true. The mysterious skeleton girl also stayed up at odd hours, though not by choice. They hung out sometimes, but Rebecca usually stayed by herself. A bad habit, she supposed. 

“I could change that.” Rebecca knew several places they could hang without drawing too much attention to themselves. Besides, after three days stuck in one place, she needed an escape.

“Why not?” Rebecca wasn’t any closer to cracking the puzzle and wasn’t ready to sleep, anyway.

Before she could leave for Yareli’s room, Rebecca’s phone buzzed. She groaned as she read the caller ID. It was the last person she had any interest in speaking to. But her mom would give her hell if she didn’t answer.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Up late again?” Her mother replied. “It isn’t healthy, Becca.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“You never call. I’m worried about you. Are your online classes going well?”

“As well as expected,” Rebecca replied, meaning straight A’s as usual. In between her more extra-legal activities, Rebecca was working on her Security Engineer’s degree. Her mother had offered a more hands-on program through her workplace. But Rebecca rejected it, wanting to earn things through her own effort. 

“That’s good.” Rebecca’s mom paused for a moment, her voice becoming worried. “Becca, I know you enjoy living alone, but I was wondering if you would be interested in staying in my penthouse for a couple days.”

“Why?”

“Bifrost is becoming more dangerous. I think you need to stay somewhere a little safer. At least for a while.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I can take care of myself.” Rebecca replied with some irritation. 

“Okay, I’m just worried.” Rebecca’s mom replied. “Just be careful. Ymir will always be here to protect you if you need it.”

“Ymir, sure.” Did her mom know something? Probably. Jessica Lauper was the company’s Chief Strategy Officer, after all. If anyone knew Ymir’s dirty secrets, it was her. A  nasty accusation almost spilled from her tongue, but Rebecca held it back. 

After an awkward pause, her mother continued. “Just stay safe out there, okay? And get some sleep. At least eight hours, alright?”

“Okay.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. 

“Night, Becca.” Her mom said in a quiet voice before hanging up. 

“Is everything alright?” Yareli asked, entering the room. “Who were you talking to?”

Stupid Yareli and her sharp hearing. Rebecca released her held tension and sighed. Her problems were her own. Yareli didn’t deserve her anger. 

“It’s only my mom.” Rebecca gave a weak smile. “We don’t always have the best relationship.”

“At least you know yours,” Yareli replied. “I never knew mine.”

Well yeah, the amnesia. “Is that a memory? Johan told me you remembered something about your past.”

“It might be,” Yareli said after a hesitant pause.

“Hey, it’s a start,” Rebecca replied, pleased her friend had regained some of her past. “What about your father? Can you remember anything about him?” 

After a moment’s thought, Yareli shook her head. “No, nothing.”

“Give it time.” Rebecca offered her friend an encouraging smile. “That you’re getting memories back is a good sign!”

“I suppose.” 

“Say, how about we go somewhere? We can talk more there.” Johan was always a late sleeper, and Rebecca doubted he’d enjoy being pulled from bed before sunrise. 

“Where? I’m not arguing against it, but Ymir is still searching for us.” 

“Don’t worry. It isn’t a place they’ll easily find us.” Rebecca stretched her sore legs. “Besides, I have you to protect me.”

“We can check up on Samuel, too,” Yareli said, nodding. Their injured Jotnar was still recovering in the back alley hospital. He’d welcome a visit from some friends. 

“We’ll be taking the van. No offense, but you’re very noticeable.”

“No argument from me, but we’re loading my bike in the back, just in case. Where are we going, anyway?”

Rebecca loaded her laptop and other tools into her bag, its cute koala face smiling at her. “It’s a dive called the Data Pirate’s Den. A friend there might help us with the data we stole from Ymir. I’m not sure if I can solve this alone.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

---

“You didn’t have to come along, Samuel,” Rebecca said, annoyed. She’d wanted to spend some alone girl time with Yareli. “Dr. Ashens said you need rest.”

“No way,” Samuel replied. “I’m not letting you go into some seedy bar without backup.”

“It’s fine.” Yareli sighed, realizing arguing was useless. “We might as well stick together.”

Despite his obvious pain, Samuel appeared enthused, pleased he was free of the back alley hospital. Rebecca wasn’t the only Jotnar getting stir-crazy. 

“Good. After the crap we’ve gone through, we need a drink.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Rebecca said.

“It’s not like I’m driving,” Samuel said with a shrug. 

“Fine.” If Yareli had eyes, she’d be rolling them. But after getting him involved in her battle against Ymir, she owed him this small indulgence.

“When you called this place seedy, I was expecting someplace more rundown,” Yareli said as they drove up to a swat rectangular building. An enormous sign displaying its name shone with colorful neon lights, the D in the second word flashing out of sync with the others. The place appeared well maintained and clean—from the outside, at least. There wasn’t a single cracked window in sight.

“Because this is a classy, seedy bar,” Rebecca said, exiting their van. “Us lower-class scum have a reputation to maintain!”

“Oh, hey Rebecca, Samuel,” called the balding, heavy-set bouncer. He thumbed through a paperback novel as they approached. “Who’s the newcomer? We’re closed. Come back around sunset.”

“I have some business to discuss with Alex,” Rebecca replied. “And this is Yareli. She’s cool.”

Through his shades, the bouncer raised a skeptical eyebrow toward the strange helmeted woman in a full-body biker suit, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. She’s in her office.”

The inside of the Data Pirate’s Den was more rundown than the outside, littered with used furniture that seemed on its last legs. An impressive collection of decades-old game machines whizzed and flashed, demanding their attention as they passed.

“We’re closed,” a voice yelled as they entered a back area. Behind a computer screen, a figure tapped away at their keyboard while sipping at a cola through a straw.

“Hey, Alex,” Rebecca said in greeting.

“Becca! It’s been ages! Are you still hanging out with that Jotnar crowd? You should totally dump them and work for me. I need someone to help run the lighting system.” The person behind the screen popped up their head, revealing a wild-haired young woman with pink locks and more piercings and tattoos than Yareli had ever seen. Two differently colored eyes—purple and red—watched them enter.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You know my answer to that, Alex.”

“What the hell happened to you, Samuel?” Alex asked, noticing how pale the usually dark-skinned man looked. “I thought you were being too quiet.”

“Got my stupid self shot,” Samuel replied.

“Well, shit. Tell me everything. Let me pour you a drink.” Alex pulled a bottle from a desk drawer, pouring a generous serving into a cup.

“And who are you?” Alex asked after handing the grateful Samuel his drink. “What’s with the helmet?”

“Yareli. I have terrible scars,” she said, looking away. “It’s best I keep it on.”

“That’s cool. Can’t fault you there.” Alex shrugged. “Drink?”

“No, thanks.” The answer made Yareli self-conscious and awkward.

“What? As usual, your company is terrible, Becca.” Alex raised an eyebrow before shrugging and pouring herself a generous portion. “More for me! Becca?”

“Love to.” Rebecca allowed her friend to pour her a drink. “Unfortunately, I’m here for another reason.”

“I figured as much,” Alex replied. “I can tell from your business-like expression.”

“Look at this data. I can’t make any sense of it.” Rebecca handed over a USB stick. “There’s a connection I can’t quite place. I thought you might help me.”

“Where’d you get it from?” Alex inserted the stick, scanning her screen.

“Ymir.”

The bar owner raised an eyebrow. “Really? Now that’s a story I’d like to hear. Sounds like a tough hack job. Their security programs are no joke.”

“I didn’t,” Rebecca said, smug. “We broke into one of Ymir’s labs and stole it.”

Alex almost dropped her glass in surprise. “Really? No!” She turned her attention to her computer, scanning the stolen data as inserting the stick. “Financial data? Is this from the stock market?”

“Ymir’s data collection was massive,” Rebecca said, nodding. “That’s only two percent of it.”

“Two percent?” Alex sat straighter. “Fascinating. Strange—they seem random. Is this every piece of financial data in existence? Like, why would Ymir care about some textile company in Arkansas?”

“Right!” Rebecca replied. “Ymir was processing this data with a computer beyond anything I’ve seen before. It was massive.”

“It was a real monster,” Samuel added, nodding. “They called it Surtur. It was using this data to create some equation. We couldn’t make any sense of it.”

“An equation, huh?” A piercing clattered as Alex bit her lip in thought.

The bar owner turned toward Yareli, her expression smug. “That’s why Becca came to me. While she’s a talented hacker, no one can beat me in coding and data.”

“Thank you.” Yareli gave a grateful nod.

After twirling around in her seat, Alex’s fingers blurred as she played with some coding program. Yareli’s head spun, unable to understand the text’s meaning. In her previous life, she was confident she wasn’t a programmer.

Samuel gave a contented sigh as he sipped his drink. “I needed this. These last few days have been crazy.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good at this spy stuff,” Rebecca said, beaming. “We’ve learned more about Ymir than I ever could have hoped.”

“Gramps tells me his journalist friend is ready to blow the lid on them once we’ve gotten some solid proof.” The older man had bragged that his friend had connections in several major news outlets, eager to bring the entire corporation crashing down. While Yareli doubted it’d be that easy, she admired his enthusiasm.

“Looking forward to that,” Rebecca replied. “I’ve never trusted them. Their president is a nasty piece of work. So cold.”

“You’ve met?” Yareli’s helmet clanked against her skull as she gave Rebecca a sideways glance.

Inwardly, Yareli could tell Rebecca was cursing herself. She’d said too much. “It’s the impression I got from his various press interviews.”

“Rebecca has always hated Ymir since I’ve known her,” Samuel said, shaking his head with a laugh.

While curious about the hacker girl’s connection to Ymir, Yareli changed the subject. Rebecca would speak more when she was ready. Besides, she had other questions she wanted to ask. “How did you meet Rebecca, Samuel?”

“Randel found her.” Samuel finished his drink and poured himself another. “We needed some tech help to recover some contraband from the police. We met at this very bar. It’s an excellent place to find people with certain specialized skills.”

Randel? The name suddenly clicked, dampening Yareli’s mood. He was the young man she’d failed to save. Despite the obvious pain in his voice, Samuel spoke of his late friend with pride.

“Yep, she’s been working with us ever since. The Boss always liked her,” Samuel continued.

“I just like you guys.” Rebecca broke into a smile. “Besides, we’re fighting actual monsters now. I won’t leave that for anything.” Samuel grinned back, giving his friend a fist bump. The Jotnar pointed their fists toward Yareli. After an awkward moment, she returned the fist bump.

“I suppose I am part of their team. Never really considered it before,” Yareli thought.

Alex raised her head from her workstation, giving her guests a skeptical eyebrow. “Wait, what? Real monsters? What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you seen the news?” Yareli replied, surprised.

“Who listens to that crap? It’s full of bias and lies.” Alex raised her head high in pride. “What are you trying to tell me? That Ymir is breeding actual monsters or something?”

“Maybe?” Yareli winced, and her voice trailed off. It was a line of speculation she hated to consider.

“Huh?” Alex blinked, confused by the biker girl’s tone. “What do you mean?”

Before Yareli could offer a lame excuse to leave the awkward situation, her phone buzzed. It was Detective Anderson. “Hello?” From the other end, she heard cries and muffled noises. Something was happening in the background, but she couldn’t determine what.

“Yareli, I need you at the Bifrost Police Department right now!” The voice behind the phone sounded strained. It took a moment to realize it was Detective Anderson.

“What, you work for the establishment now?” Alex said, noting the caller.

“It’s complicated,” Rebecca replied.

“It’s the Niflhel. Oh God.” The detective took a moment to collect himself before continuing. “Somehow, they got their hands on Angra Armlets! It’s a massacre!” Ice stabbed Yareli’s heart as she picked up bloodcurdling screams in the distance. Through the general mayhem, a strong, monstrous voice rang out:

“Let’s burn Bifrost to the ground! Nothing can stop us!” Selim shouted, voice victorious. “This entire city belongs to the Niflhel!”

[jonathanvik]

Krisis - Chapter 14

“Okay, it’s ready. We’re ready when you are.” Despite her outward calm, Jafia tapped her finger against the tabletop in agitation. 

Lights on screens flashed around her in the cramped van she was using as a portable headquarters. The outside of it was a wreck, a rusty old laundromat delivery truck, but its innards held impressive technology. A mysterious sponsor known only to Matthias had purchased it, augmenting it with a deceptively powerful computer system, capable of even hacking satellites in deep space. From the cash they’d thrown to help the despised, downtrodden Ottomon, she guessed they held a prominent position.

Rocke’s resistance group was taking some major risks with this plan. Still, she admired their grit for attempting something so bold. Despite needing to plan for Mayor Sunbearer’s assassination, she’d spent the day coordinating with Rocke instead. He was doing good work, and it’d humiliate the UOP.

“We are ready on our end too,” Rocke said over the comm, showing an impressive amount of calm considering the danger. That awkward, easily flustered boy sure had grown after the last week. She watched on a streetlight’s security cam as they slipped into position. While the hour was late, people still crowded the streets, milling about for whatever business they were on. Rocke’s team were spread out, doing their best to remain inconspicuous. 

“Don’t worry, Jafia. We got this!” Matthias said, the prophet’s comment making her smile. Despite herself, his enthusiasm was infectious.

“Humph.” Nitao released a snort, announcing his readiness.

“Let’s do this,” The Kallane spy had insisted on joining the mission, too. Jafia guessed her fellow spy had some other objective Rojin wasn’t sharing, but as long as it didn’t interfere with the primary mission, Jafia wouldn’t protest.

“The guard bots are going dark in ten minutes.” Jafia tapped at her keyboard, text flashing past her screen as she entered the camp’s primary security system. If she crippled it, the robot’s couldn’t coordinate their actions even if they regained function. 

“We’re there. Smash and grab. We can’t risk them calling reinforcements. No stupid risks or heroics, okay?” Rocke said, and his team rattled off their affirmative. They hunched behind trees, the camp just visible over the hill. “And avoid shooting anyone, if possible.”

This comment made Jafia tense, wondering if Rocke had the ruthlessness necessary for this mission. While he’d done decently on their makeshift shooting range, their targets discarded beer cans, it differed greatly from the intensities of real combat. Worse, Rocke had shown his reluctance to do the necessary dirty work. Any hesitation on his part would only get him killed.

While she didn’t believe in any Sovereign, she prayed for Rocke’s safety anyway. They’d mitigated most of the risk, but her ex was still throwing himself into a den of vipers.

“Here goes nothing.” She needed to believe Rocke could do this. She took a steadying breath.

“Now.” With a click, Jafia stole control of the guard robots. From a nearby storefront camera, she saw a robot on the metal wall guarding the parameter seize up before its visor dimmed.

“Let’s go,” Rocke said, an edge to his voice as they charged inside.

With a few clicks, Jafia entered the camp’s security system, and a view from the scattered security cameras appeared across the various screens in her command center. In their rush to assemble the internment camps, the UOP hadn’t created a significantly secure system. It was another example of the rushed nature of Project: Ugly Duckling.

“Don’t worry, I got your back,” Jafia said, her eyes trailing across the screens as she searched for danger. Whatever it took, she’d keep them safe.

---

“Ah, now this looks promising!” Halkken said, marching up the sharp incline of the hill. Among all the places they had searched, his instinct assured him they’d finally found the right trail. His partner, however, seemed less than convinced.

“We’re still doing this, huh?” Phú said, complaining again for the umpteenth time. For an AI, she sure liked to grumble. “After days!”

“You remember what the chief said? He told us to find Rocke Ralss, no matter how long it took.” 

And their prey had remained elusive, dodging the police and military with impressive skill. Still, with Halkken on his tail, Rocke couldn’t evade them forever. Still, his partner had a point, after days of searching every hill in Vladus, it was a tad frustrating that they still hadn’t found their target.

“Right. However long it takes,” Phú said, not hiding her sarcasm. 

Halkken screeched to a halt as a guard robot appeared from nowhere, the barrel of its laser rifle aimed at his head. These weren’t typical laser weapons, but military-grade death machines. A single shot from this metal monstrosity at even its lowest power setting would render someone senseless for hours. On high, it’d vaporize someone’s torso.

“We need to see your boss.” Halkken flashed his badge. The robot’s eyestalk studied the ID, its fellows ready to shock him into unconsciousness if it located any discrepancy. After a long silence, the robot nodded and gestured for him to follow. 

“And how may I help you today, officer?” Famus asked from his palatial desk. It was a sharp contrast to the rather slapdash design of the hastily assembled shack they stood inside. 

Outside, moans came from unfortunate Demons who’d earned the UOP’s displeasure. The state of them was shocking—their eyes fearful and hungry. Many looked like they hadn’t eaten since the Prime Minister’s announcement. Others seemed half-dead, their bodies ravaged by disease. It was distasteful, but dealing with them wasn’t his job.

Famus was a proud man, with sharp features and a prominent beaklike nose. He wore a crisp UOP military suit—gray with a purple sash across the waist. The insignia pinned to his shoulder ranked him as a sergeant. Famus’s most distinguishing features were his predatory eyes that watched everyone else with a hungry gleam. To him, everyone else was prey. 

“In a hill, you will find him!” Babaka had said. “But only when the wolf howls! Present an offering of tulips as you spin around six times to a tall man wearing a fancy suit. Then, the path will become clear.”

Was he the man with a nice suit? Famus certainly overtook Halkken by at least a meter and a half. It’s a good thing he brought the tulips with him. Still, he wouldn’t give them until he was absolutely certain. 

“Just routine,” Halkken said, getting to business. “We can’t help but notice that your little camp sits on a hill.”

“So?” Famus said, raising an eyebrow.

“So, we’re wondering if you’ve heard anything about a Rocke Ralss?”

“Ah, that cur,” Famus’ lips sneered in contempt. “The rabble out there whisper his name like he’s some sort of savior. The warrior of the Sovereign, they call him. Apparently, killing an innocent man makes you a hero in their eyes. You can see why the Prime Minister wants to eject this filth from our glorious city.”

Halkken had heard others whisper such claims about Rocke, too. Somehow, he’d inadvertently become a symbol for the Demons. No wonder Chief Rolf wanted him caught. Symbols were dangerous. Matthias Daliven had already proven that.

“But have you seen him around the area?” Halkken asked. “I see you’ve set up cameras around the block.”

“No,” Famus said dismissively. “It’s been quiet.”

“Ah, well. That’s unfortunate.” Halkken sighed inwardly. So much for his hunch.

“See? Waste of time,” Phú said smugly. “Now, can we return to actual police work? If you haven’t noticed, the city is on the precipice of a crisis!”

Before Halkken could reply, he heard a commotion from outside. Moments later, guard robots dragged a disheveled man in a once-pristine suit into the warden’s office. Much to Halkken’s surprise, the man wore no Demon tattoos.

“We caught this man stealing an extra ration,” the mechanical voice of the guard robot said.

“I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten in days,” the man said, pleading. “Please! I’ll pay you. I have money!”

“Money?” The non-tattooed man howled as a hand struck him in the face. The blow had been hard enough to knock him down. Only the guard robot’s grip had kept him aloft. “You’re trying to bribe me?”

“Please!” The man sobbed pathetically. He was a sorry excuse for a human being.

“You’re given food. That should be enough.”

“What? But…” The man stammered, lost for words.

“Do you know why you’re fed so little? Why we don’t give you medical care?” Famus paced around the captured man. “Simple—to humble you. To show you live by our grace alone. No prophet, no hero, and no Sovereign can give you this. Only us. This is the cost of your disobedience. You brought this on yourselves.”

“But don’t fear. I won’t kill you.” But Famus’s eyes weren’t merciful. “I’ll put you in the chamber to stew a bit. Then you will be given mercy.”

“The chamber?” Halkken asked.

“Just a little solitary confinement. It’s of my design. It blocks out all sensation. All light, sound, and feeling is gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts to rethink your crimes.”

“A sensory deprivation tank? Won’t that drive him insane?” Humans needed noise and sensation. Deprivation of those senses caused terrible hallucinations, even madness. 

“Only if he’s weak,” Famus replied with a snort.

“No, please!” A dog howled as the wretch was being taken away, its voice carrying far in the clear night air. Halkken took in a sharp intake of breath. Was this it? He blinked as the prisoner collapsed out of the guard robot’s grip, the machine marvel slumping as its eyes darkened.

“Huh, is it dead?” Halkken poked at the robot with a toe, but got no respond.

“Ugh, not again! I told the chief our guard robots need better security! But does anyone listen to me? No!” Phú groaned.

“An attack!” Famus said, alarmed. “They dare?! Sound the alarm. We will crush these interlopers under our boots.”

“Makes sense. How can we help?” This must be destiny. Babaka must have foreseen their necessity here.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Phú said, always the cynic. She groaned as her partner spun around six time before presenting the gaggle of tulips to the baffled warden.  

“Thanks?” Famus said after a moment’s hesitation. He hadn’t a clue what was going on. But he regained his composure, touching a panel on the wall. It flipped open to reveal an array of impressively powerful weapons.

“Aren’t some of these illegal?” Halkken said, taking a disruptor rifle. The weapon was infamous for how it destroyed its target’s atoms, causing an agonizing death. He checked the weapon—everything seemed good.

“You’re going to quibble about that now?” Famus said, taking an automatic laser gun. Less fancy than a disruptor rifle, but just as destructive. “Besides, one needs to be prepared.”

“I’ll work on restoring the guard robots. Though with the main system down, that won’t be easy.” Phú said enthusiastically. “I can’t believe they’re trying the same trick again—how foolish.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Halkken said, beaming. This was why he’d joined the force: to fight evildoers. This made more sense than some complex political drama he couldn’t understand. Besides, destiny had brought him here. 

“You” Famus gestured at the Demon man looking up tearfully from the floor. “Stay put. If you leave this room, you’re dead.” Her tone left no illusion about the validity of the comment. “Now let’s crush some rebel scum, shall we?”

---

Droplets pelted him from above, and Rocke suppressed a shudder as they slipped through the garage’s shutter. The weather had turned worse, and he was relieved to leave the freezing drizzle. Besides the slumped guard robot, the garage was empty of life. It seemed their intel was right about there being few human guards. 

“Are you sure they’re deactivated?” Rocke asked, testing the robot with a boot. He vividly recalled Matthias’s previous ordeal with those vile machine monsters. He kept his weapon ready, its heft felt comforting in his hands.

They each carried an assortment of weapons, either donated from Matthias’s sponsor or purchased from the black market. Rocke carried a K-900 laser assault rifle—lightweight, but capable of shooting a hundred rounds of laser bolts per second. It wasn’t the strongest weapon, but a combined effort of a dozen well-aimed shots would demolish the heavily armored guard robots. Matthias carried a light laser pistol, but he gripped it like it burned his skin. Despite his obvious distaste, he carried it anyway, understanding the importance of defending themselves. They’d been too reckless when they’d rescued Rocke from prison. The others also used assault rifles, though of random builds and calibers. While they weren’t a well-oiled and armed team, they’d do.

“They should be,” Jafia replied over their comm. “Still worried about last time?”

“I don’t think Matthias can take another shock like that.” Rocke suppressed a shudder at the memory of Phú torturing his friend with electric prods. Where would their little resistance group be without the Sovereign’s Holy Man? They were only here because of him.

“Don’t worry, lad.” Matthias put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere—not when there’s business to be done.”

After giving his friend a grateful nod, Rocke turned to Nitao. “Can you get them started?” He gestured to the two convoys filling the garage. They were bulky behemoths, built like tanks. Designed to transport troopers through battlefields, capable of absorbing enemy fire. They should suit their needs perfectly.

“No problem,” the Konquellian said from one of the transport’s driver seats, giving a thumbs-up.

 A moment later, Nitao gave the OK for the other transport. Their engines roared to life as he started them up. He’d hacked their simple security with impressive ease. From how comfortable he seemed in the driver’s seat, Rocke wondered if his Konquellian friend had a past in the military. Questions to ask later.

“We’ll keep these beasts warm while you rescue our new friends,” Matthias said from the other transport. Given his still-weak condition, this seemed the best use of him.

“Let’s hurry, then.” Kallane seemed eager to free her kin from whatever suffering the OUP had subjected them to. While Rocke wished she’d stayed with the transport, he knew he could never stop her. Regardless of his worries for her, he trusted she’d have his back, always.

Rocke’s stomach knotted as he saw the Ottomans’ condition—worse than he’d ever imagined. His grip tightened on his weapon, the cold steel almost bending from his fury.

“They’re treated worse than animals,” Rojan said, his voice tight. Empty, hopeless eyes stared at them as they entered the camp proper.

In Camp R, unlike most other camps, they kept the Ottomans in cages—small, squat boxes offering barely any room to move. The odor was hideous, smelling of disease and filth. Some bodies lay on the ground unmoving, left dead where they fell. Flies swarmed the cages, feasting eagerly on the corpses.

“This is monstrous.” And so few remained. Rocke had hoped to rescue almost a thousand, but from his headcount, he guessed fewer than two hundred remained. Rage bubbled in his chest. By the Sovereign, these monsters would answer for this inhumanity.

“Who are you?” a weak voice asked, limping to the cage’s steel bars. The woman wore less than rags, filthy from days of being unwashed.

“Help,” Rocke said, his voice full of determination. This caught everyone’s attention.

“The warrior,” the Ottomon muttered to themselves, real hope entering their voices. “The Sovereign has sent his chosen to save us.”

While he felt uneasy about being given such a grand title, Rocke nodded. He examined the cages, frowning when he realized the locks weren’t electronic. They used old-fashioned metal locks instead. 

“Where’s the key?” Rocke asked. He had an inkling of the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“In... warden’s office,” another voice gasped. Rocke frowned. Something about it sounded familiar somehow. He turned to address the speaker, gasping when he realized their identity.

“You’re the Ottomon that tried helping me! Dallas, right?” Rocke said, astonished.

“You’re okay!” Kallane rushed over and gave the big man a hug through the bars.

“It’s good to see you safe, lad. I’ve been worried about you.” While their encounter had been brief, it shocked Rocke how different the man looked. While still a bulky man, Dallas had clearly shrunk. His body showed signs of constant abuse, denied almost any food. His skin was stretchy and rubbery over his flesh. Despite his deprivations, his eyes shone with the same intense intelligence.

“How are you here?” Rocke asked.

“They’re booting out even the Ottomon prisoners.” Dallas made a throaty cough, phlegm spitting from his mouth. “They made sure I couldn’t cause any trouble before they released me. And of Jamar, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since my arrest.”

“Stay put, Dallas,” Kallane replied. “We’ll get you out of here soon.”

“Brave. Good luck. The warden’s a ruthless man,” Dallas warned.

“Have you seen my uncle?” Kallane said, giving a brief description of the man.

“Yes, actually,” Dallas replied. “He caused a bit of a fuss and got sent to the warden’s office for his trouble.”

“Oh.” Kallane tensed. Given Famus’s reputation, that couldn’t be a good thing. Was he even alive anymore?

But when Dallas caught their furtive looks, he chuckled. “He should be fine. He took him a few minutes before the blackout.”

“That’s something, at least.” Still, it seemed they were being guided to the warden’s office—and likely facing the warden himself. They still hadn’t seen any guards. 

Instead of calming Rocke, it put him ill at ease. They spread out, keeping low to make themselves a small target. They kept a sharp eye out for trouble, Rocke glancing at the various guard robots that stood across the camp’s perimeter. While their lights remained off, they weren’t taking any chances.

Rocke kept his weapon ready as he headed to a window of the shack the warden was using as a base. He grinned as he saw a familiar face standing inside. Though he wore tattered clothes, and he hadn’t bathed in days, Rocke recognized Kallane’s uncle. But he frowned, noticing the terrified expression on his face. He turned, their eyes meeting. The older man’s mouth moved, but no words came out. On instinct, Rocke realized what was bothering him—and he leapt back.

Dust exploded from the wall he’d been standing behind, Rocke coughing as it entered his lungs. He rolled to the side, just avoiding an electric pod that sizzled as it swung past. The guard robot’s other hand struck his chest, Rocke dropped prone as the blow knocked the wind  from his sails.

“What a pain you are.” A familiar high-pitched voice said. The guard robot did a little dance, pleased with herself. “But you got nowhere to run! Nowhere to run!”

“Not you again!” Phú? What was she doing here? He froze as half a dozen men charged out from behind the warden’s shack, guns raised.

“Yes, nowhere to run.” A prim, snobby voice said. Famus walked from the hole Phú had created, lifting his nose at the prone Rocke. He carried no weapons, but held a riding crop, which he tapped against his open hand. “Now, how about we talk about your surrender, boy?”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 11

“So, the little brat’s got an Angra Armlet,” Dino’s monstrous bear form growled, unimpressed. He clicked his claws together, tiny ice shards scraping off as he did so. “Pity I’ve been training, Fenrir. I won’t be as easy to defeat this time.”

Ilma circled her prey with relentless energy, seeking any visible weakness. Rebecca scrambled behind Johan’s massive bulk, not eager to become a hostage again.

“Does she not get tired?” Yareli grumbled to herself. Her voice lowered as she addressed her friends. “Aim for the wings. Their armor is actually pretty fragile.”

“Huh?” This news surprised Johan. After handily defeating Selim, he’d believed the Valkyries unstoppable—possibly even more powerful than Fenrir. Had he misjudged their strength?

“I’ll take on Dino. You fight Ilma. It’s a better matchup for our side. Besides, it avoids being predictable. Careful with Ilma. She learns fast. Rebecca, where is Samuel? Is he okay?”

“He’s doing okay. He’s hiding.” With a subtle movement of her eyes, Rebecca gestured toward a sports car a couple of meters away. “Keep them busy. I have an idea.”

Their hasty planning was interrupted as Dino cleaved through the air, creating shards of ice that slashed toward them at frightening speed. Johan scrambled to safety, but Yareli’s sword shattered them into sparking specks of ice in midair. Sensing Fenrir’s vulnerability, the Valkyrie dove at her back with a spear.

Johan cursed, pain lancing through his chest as he took the blow intended for his friend. He endured the pain, ripping the weapon from the Valkyrie’s hands and shattering it across his knee. Unimpressed, Ilma withdrew her sword, eager to cut down the interloper who dared to block her from her prey.

Johan hissed as he received a nasty slash across the chest. He slashed back with his meaty fist but struck only open air. They engaged, but it was hardly what you would call a fight. Ilma humiliated him at every turn, slipping through his attacks like he was a clumsy oaf. Her blade bit his flesh in every exchange, driven home with uncanny accuracy. Realizing how much the Valkyrie outclassed him in combat skills, Johan changed tactics, using his enormous size and bulk to his advantage to grapple the Valkyrie.

When his opponent realized his tactic, she took flight. But Johan’s boar form possessed surprising speed, snatching the Valkyrie from the air. She squirmed in his hands, but his grip was iron-tight. Yareli wasn’t wrong in her assessment of the Valkyrie’s armor. The wings snapped like twigs, her armor shattering under Johan’s considerable strength. But spears of ice crashed into his back, causing him to lose his grip on his captive. Ilma darted away before he could reestablish his grapple.

The Ymir thug gave Johan a mocking salute before dodging several bolts from Yareli’s gun. A hiss of pain escaped Johan’s maw as a sudden sword thrust drove him back. The Valkyrie’s raw power was staggering, but it wasn’t his immediate concern. Sparks crackled from his Angra Armlet, the device becoming uncomfortably warm. Johan figured only scant moments remained until his transformation failed, leaving an exhausted Yareli to face two dangerous opponents alone.

Despite their desperate situation, Johan’s blood surged with excitement, pushing him to fight until he dropped dead. Time seemed to slow as he analyzed the battleground. Yareli’s back was pressed against an expensive-looking car, Dino’s claws raised to strike. Somehow, Johan knew his friend wouldn’t be quick enough to avoid the attack. Ilma darted toward him, aiming to strike his blind spot. In a sudden moment of stunning clarity, Johan knew what he needed to do. 

The Valkyrie’s sword slipped past his fur as he dodged left. In the same motion, he grabbed the remains of a bumper from a car Ilma had totaled earlier. Time slowed again as he calculated his throw, vaguely noting Ilma’s follow-up strike. But Johan ignored her, lining up his shot to hurl the projectile toward Dino’s head. If his predictions proved accurate, the blow would knock the bear monster off balance, giving his ally the perfect opportunity for a retaliatory strike.

“Gah!” Dino staggered as the incoming car bumper smacked him in the snout, distracting him enough for Yareli to swoop around him. She switched her weapon into gun mode, blasting several bolts into his face. The expensive red sports car—costing at least half a million euros—crumpled as Dino flailed backward, attempting to guard his face with an arm. A kick drove him through a nearby pillar, concrete dust obscuring the monster as it shattered.

Despite this small victory, it was short-lived. Black, acrid smoke wafted from his Angra Armlet as Ilma slashed Johan across the chest. His transformation failed, and Johan momentarily stumbled, confused, unsure where he was. His breathing was labored, like the air was too thin for his lungs.

“Are you okay?” Yareli jumped to his side, holding him steady before the Jotnar collapsed.

“I’m not sure.” Johan took a steadying breath and regained his bearings. What was that? How had he done that? Somehow, he’d predicted the future like some damn clairvoyant.

“Impressive, but now it’s two against one,” Dino said, regaining his feet. “Still interested in futilely facing us?”

In response, Yareli inserted her key into her gun. “Grave bolter.”

The Ymir thug howled as a storm of energy slammed into his chest. Ilma leaped aside, just avoiding getting crushed by her ally.

Yareli grunted. “He talks too much.”

“Okay, but don’t accidentally crush Samuel.” Johan gave Rebecca a pensive look. But the hacker girl was busy on her phone, texting something from her hiding spot.

Johan winced when Yareli’s blade caught the Valkyrie leader’s leaping slash, the impact almost deafening him. The two squared off, matching blow for blow. He scrambled away to avoid getting trampled. He studied the two combatants with fascination. Ilma’s fighting style was painfully straightforward, always searching for the most direct path to defeat her opponent. Yareli was everywhere, yet nowhere—her movements unpredictable, driven by the primal need to emerge victorious. Her weapon seemed to blur as it continually shifted forms.

Yet, Fenrir couldn’t tackle both foes in her current state, her movements clumsy to Johan’s eyes. She did her best, but the pair quickly overpowered her. His friend grunted as a two-pronged attack drove her to her knees, claws and blade striking from opposite sides.

“We can’t win like this.” Johan wondered if he should retry his armlet again, despite the risks. Before he could try, Rebecca smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Had she completed whatever she’d planned?

“Move left,” Johan whispered when he read Rebecca’s frantic hand gesture.

“Huh?” Yareli said, confused, but did as instructed.

“Now!” Rebecca yelled into her phone. Johan winced when a bright light suddenly drove toward them. Wheels squealed as a fancy-looking car screeched to a halt in front of them. The door slammed open, almost smacking Johan’s face.

“Get in!” Samuel said from the driver’s seat. His dark face was pale, blood staining his coat. But he stood strong, refusing to fail his friends.

Without a word, Yareli hurled Johan into the vehicle. The injured Jotnar howled in pain as Johan collided with him, but didn’t complain. After an embarrassed apology, Johan righted himself and removed himself from his injured friend. Rebecca tore open the back door, sitting gingerly in the passenger seat.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Ilma rushed forward, her blade hurling toward one of the vehicle’s wheels. But she jerked back as Yareli peppered her with bolts.

“Go! Go! Go!” Rebecca gestured wildly. Samuel slammed the controls to start the auto-drive. With a graceful leap, Yareli landed through the open door, continuing to harass their attackers to dissuade them from following.

Despite the energy bolts zipping past her head, Ilma continued her dogged pursuit, refusing to give up her quarry. The ground thundered as Dino joined his compatriot, dropping to all fours to run them down. But a carefully aimed bolt to a leg threw him off course, hurling him into a nearby van. With their car’s speed, they quickly lost sight of him. Only Ilma refused to surrender the chase, despite several of Fenrir’s bolts tearing pieces from her armor.

“Look out!” A Ymir goon guarding the car park’s entrance jumped away as the high-speed vehicle careened toward him. One smashed toll barrier later, and they were on the Bifrost streets.

“Aren’t these auto-drive systems designed so they can’t run people down or smash through obstacles?” Johan asked.

“I had Samuel disable the safety systems,” Rebecca replied smugly. “I thought it might come in handy.”

“She still isn’t giving up?” Yareli said, still firing on the pursuing Valkyrie from the open door.

They were gaining ground on Ilma. It wouldn’t be long until even her remarkable suit’s capabilities couldn’t catch up to them. With a sudden, jerky turn, they entered traffic, a highway leading to outer Bifrost. Johan made a strangled cry of surprise as the Valkyrie leaped into the air in one final desperate attempt not to lose her prey. She landed on the roof, her hands scrambling to gain purchase. But the hold wasn’t strong enough, and Ilma slipped off.

Johan winced as another vehicle collided into her, nearly flipping over. Another car jerked as the auto-drive systems kicked in to avoid a collision with the crashed vehicle. Other cars screeched to a halt, causing a massive traffic jam.

“It’s like she doesn’t value her own life!” Something about the Valkyrie’s attitude disturbed him at a fundamental level. Wasn’t life about surviving?

“I wish I knew,” Yareli said, entering the car proper and closing the door. She pulled her key free, dismissing her Fenrir armor. “You did good, Johan. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yeah! That was awesome!” Rebecca grinned ear to ear. “Once we get your Angra Armlet fixed, Ymir won’t stand a chance.”

“Our little boy is growing up,” Samuel said, wiping away a fake tear.

“Oh, shut up. What about you?” Johan glanced at his friend’s wounds. “You need a hospital right away!”

“Already on it,” Rebecca said. “Once we ditch the car, I know a back-alley clinic that can help us.”

“Um.” Yareli didn’t sound too pleased about that piece of news.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Rebecca waved a dismissive hand. “He’s cool as long as you can pay.”

“Sure.” While Yareli didn’t seem convinced, she wouldn’t argue. They couldn’t risk going to a real hospital. Still, the prospect of sending his best friend to such a shady place didn’t thrill Johan, either.

Johan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relieved they’d survived that horrible place. It had been a bigger adventure than he’d expected. Still, they’d given Ymir another black eye and learned some intel. It was somewhat of a victory.

---

“Hello, everyone! I’m glad you’re having me!” Reine said, grinning her biggest, warmest smile.

“Yeah, hi,” the gathered Valkyries said with little enthusiasm.

“I’m happy to train with you guys,” Reine said, trying to push past the awkward mood in the gym. “The publicity will do wonders for the Valkyrie program. I heard how easily you beat those hooligans who stole Ymir tech. Is there nothing you guys can’t defeat?”

“Yeah, sure,” Pihu replied. “That’s certainly true.”

None of her fellow Valkyries showed much interest in engaging their special guest, leaving her their sole spokesperson. After the beating they’d received from their fight with Fenrir, no one was interested in pampering a spoiled princess.

Ilma, in particular, seemed on edge. She’d prefer roaming the streets of Bifrost hunting for Ymir’s enemies than helping in some publicity stunt. Her defeat to Fenrir had rattled their usually stoic leader.

“Just engage her. It isn’t like she’s permanently becoming a member,” Pihu thought. Besides, she figured the Ymir idol was a nice girl once you got to know her. At least Reine had shown that she took this exercise seriously—not arriving wearing make-up or having cameras hovering around her. She seemed ready for a serious workout.

“Do you have any martial arts training?” Pihu asked.

“I took some self-defense classes when I started working as an idol, but otherwise, not really,” Reine replied, embarrassed.

Wonderful. It didn’t enthuse Pihu that they’d need to train the girl from scratch. Her studies kept her a busy girl. She had a ten-page report due next Friday. 

“It’s fine,” Abbey said, warming up to the idol. The awkwardness of the situation had struck Reine hard, and the taller girl couldn’t maintain her cold exterior any longer. “A fresh start is good. She doesn’t have any foolish preconceptions.”

“Like unpressed dough?” Pihu asked, raising an eyebrow.

Abbey gave an enthusiastic nod. “Exactly.”

“Reine is a person,” Ilma said, like she was starting something obvious. 

“She’s new, untrained, ready to be molded into something different,” Pihu said.

“Oh.” Ilma nodded her head in understanding.

“Did she not understand the metaphor?” Reine gave a conspiratorial whisper out of Ilma’s hearing range. “It wasn’t complicated.”

“Ilma is very literal-minded. She basically takes everything at face value,” Pihu whispered. It led to some interesting encounters. “When Abigail got the flu once, Ilma overheard that laughter is the best medicine. She spent the entire night with several joke books, awkwardly trying to tell jokes to make her feel better.”

“I remember that” Abbey rubbed her temple, her lip raised in wry amusement. “I couldn’t get any sleep. She probably made my sickness worse!”

“No way!” Reine exclaimed in amazement. The two Valkyries and the idol broke into uproarious laughter.

Ilma blinked. “What’s funny?”

“Forget it.” Pihu wiped away a tear from her eye. The laughter had disturbed the awkward tension, and the Valkyries warmed to the newcomer.

“Come, let’s start some basic exercises.” Abbey pushed Reine toward the training mat.

With such a dazzling smile, it wasn’t surprising the president chose the girl as Ymir’s spokesperson. There was something just likable about her. Her presence soothed the Valkyries’ earlier frustration at losing to Fenrir.

---

“I think my bruises have bruises!” the idol toweled the sweat from her head. Despite the intense workout, Reine was in excellent spirits. She winced as she lowered herself onto a nearby bench. Pihu was glad their newest member was taking to the training so well. Behind the pretty smile, the girl had a fire within her.

“That’s impossible. We only did some light training. It didn’t cause you any serious injuries,” Ilma replied. “Also, bruises don’t have blood vessels. What you propose is impossible.”

“Right. Um, I meant to say that was a tough workout,” Reine said, giving an awkward smile.

“Tomorrow will be tougher,” Ilma replied. “Being a Valkyrie is a serious commitment.”

“Unfortunately, it means training daily until you throw up.” Abbey gave the idol a sympathetic smile. “It will get easier once your body gets stronger.”

“Is this a publicity stunt or military camp?” Reine grumbled to herself.

“Sorry about that, but the Valkyrie system takes a serious toll on its user,” Pihu replied sympathetically. “It’s for your own safety.”

While not pleased, Reine nodded before laughing to herself. “I suppose I asked for this.”

The Valkyries gave nods of respect that the idol wasn’t backing off after facing such difficult early trials. They headed toward the shower room to get cleaned off. The facility wasn’t as fancy as the Valkyrie training facility in Ilma’s father’s lab. The lab, however, needed to remain top secret. Besides, it was under repair after all the damage Fenrir had caused.

“How did you get involved in this Valkyrie business, anyway?” Reine said, trying to remove her training clothes with her tired muscles.

“My father created the project. I was an excellent candidate to spearhead it,” Ilma replied.

“Okay, but couldn’t you have done something else?” Reine eyed the Valkyrie leader with curiosity.

“She’s a daddy’s girl,” Pihu said with a slight smile.

“It’s an important project.” Ilma blinked.

Pihu shook her head, amused. “I joined about a year and a half ago because the money was good. I’m saving up for my master’s.”

“In what?” Reine asked, intrigued.

“You’d think it’s stupid.”

“Tell me!” Reine said, tugging at Pihu’s arm.

“Astrophysics. I want to become an astronaut someday,” Pihu replied, looking away in embarrassment.

“Really?” Reine’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Thanks to Ymir, technology has been growing at an incredible rate,” Pihu said. “Space travel is still in its infancy. I want to become a pioneer in that field. Shame it requires so many years of schooling and a master’s degree. Much too difficult for some poor girl from Pune. But my school record impressed Dr. Halvorsen personally, so they gave me a chance.”

“I’m here through Dr. Halvorsen too,” Abigail said. “I fought on a mixed martial arts circuit for several years. Won myself a few championships. I’d still be there, but Dr. Halvorsen persuaded me to join the Valkyrie program. It sounded like an intriguing opportunity.”

“And there are only the three of you? Are there any other branches?” Reine asked.

“Besides you? None,” Pihu replied. “It’s still a new program. The technology is still very experimental.” The armor fascinated her. Its possible applications were mind-boggling. She had several intensive conversations with Dr. Halvorsen about its potential use as a spacesuit. While not space-worthy yet, they could resist solar winds.

“There is Mallory, but she passed away,” Abbey said, her tone becoming somber.

“What happened?” Reine’s voice caught in her throat, her smile faltering. It seemed she wanted to say more, but stopped herself.

“It happened before I joined the program,” Abbey said, continuing her story. “There’s a reason we’re having you train so hard before wearing the Valkyrie armor. Mallory was working with the prototype, but she got careless. It accidentally damaged her internal organs.”

“Yeah, I was there when it happened.” Ilma looked down, her usually expressionless face somber. “She died before we got her to a hospital.”

“But don’t worry! We’ll be careful with you!” Pihu said quickly to calm the disturbed idol. No one deserved to die for some stupid publicity stunt. “And the armor is much safer now. Dr. Halvorsen and I have been working hard to fix those problems.”

“It’s fine. I trust you guys,” Reine said after a moment of silence. Pihu noticed the tension in her face, like she was biting back her tongue. But it vanished, replaced with her trademark smile. “I’m hungry. How about we get something?”

“That’s good. I’m starving!” Abbey said. “Let’s hit the cafeteria. The food is decent. I’m afraid you’ll need to follow a specialized diet, too.”

“It’s fine. I kinda figured,” Reine replied without much enthusiasm. 

After switching to casual clothes, they left the gym in good spirits. Pihu was glad the other girls were getting along with their newest unofficial member. They promised to go out drinking later that night. While a little naughty and against the rules, they deserved it. Hopefully, Fenrir wouldn’t pop her head up again and ruin their night out.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 10

“You’re skilled.” The Valkyrie, Abbey, inclined her head with respect. “Whoever trained you should be commemorated.”

It’d been a fierce conflict, given the state of the warehouse. One wall had crumpled from where a Valkyrie had smashed into it. Boxes of Angra Armlet sat smoldering where bolts of Yareli’s gun had ignited them, not an accident on her part. She wore a secret skeletal smile for the trouble she’d caused Ymir. Smoke wafted from the flaming contraptions, igniting the sprinkler system. 

Stale water rained on the combatants in a torrent as the other two Valkyries circled Yareli. The words still touched her, though—she wondered why she possessed such fighting instincts. They seemed ingrained deep in her bones, an indisputable part of her. What was she in the past? A soldier? Some martial arts fanatic? As the tallest Valkyrie engaged her, Yareli didn’t have time to ponder these questions.

Steel clashed as their blades met, Yareli guarding against the second as she joined the fray. Only their leader hung back, observing the exchange with keen interest. Besides, she’d only get in her allies’ way. Even together, they had difficulty matching Fenrir’s speed.

The short Valkyrie gasped as Fenrir’s sword bit deep into her armor, exposing dark-skinned flesh beneath. Abbey attacked from behind, but Yareli’s claws caught the blade midair. A squeal of torn metal echoed through the empty warehouse as the taller Valkyrie’s sword bent at an odd angle, rendering it useless. A kick sent Pihu flying, but she recovered, her half-destroyed wing stabbing into the ground to halt her flight. Yareli switched her weapon to gun mode, blasting bolts into the recovering Valkyrie.

“Pihu!” Abbey shouted, charging. But her loss of control cost her—Fenrir’s blade left deep gashes in her armor as she slipped away from a wild swing.

“What a monster,” Pihu said, chunks of her armor crumbling after a barrage of Fenrir’s energy bolts. “Ilma, she might be beyond our suit’s capability to fight.”

“No, we can still…” Abbey slumped forward, her entire body freezing in place. She jerked as the taller Valkyrie tried to move, but the heavy, inanimate armor resisted. “Damn, she severed my energy unit. I can’t fight.”

“Pihu, take Abigail and flee. You can’t help in this fight anymore,” their leader said, spreading her still-functioning wings wide.

“Got it. But what about you?” Pihu asked, following her leader’s instructions. She grabbed her incapacitated ally, dragging her toward a nearby exit. The taller Valkyrie’s bulk made this awkward, but Pihu managed it.

“I’ve got her measure. She won’t escape.”

“Got my measure?” Yareli asked, watching the two Valkyries flee to safety. She sighed in relief, relieved neither had gotten seriously hurt.

“I know your moves.” While flat, Yareli detected a hint of edge to Ilma’s words. “You won’t escape alive.”

“Bold words.” Did the Valkyrie leader have a grudge against her? Without another word, Yareli switched her weapon to gun mode and fired.

“Huh?” Fenrir watched in astonishment as her opponent slipped past each energy bolt, hissing as the Valkyrie’s weapon connected with her chest armor. Bewildered, she went on the offensive. Yareli gasped as Ilma leaped onto her extended sword, balanced like a trained acrobat. Sparks flew as the Valkyrie’s blade stabbed into her chest plate.

“What the heck?” Fenrir found herself on the defensive as her attacks failed to land, predicted before she’d even performed them. The Valkyrie stymied her, always knowing which weak point to pick apart.

But each blow only fueled Fenrir’s rage and determination to win. She channeled it, powering her every movement. Each step drove her closer to her opponent—Fenrir appeared like a silver blur as she danced around her. Ilma stiffened as a barrel suddenly pressed against her back.

“Torrent Fang,” Yareli’s husky voice said, pulling and reinserting her Uhyre key.

The force of the energy burst threw Fenrir across the room. Ilma fared worse—the explosive impact reduced the protective shell of her armor to little more than a black husk. Yet, remarkably, Ilma pushed herself to her feet as pieces of armor slid from her body.

“How is she still standing?” The impact must have broken at least a couple of bones. Through her broken helmet, Ilma’s mouth remained in a firm, resolute frown as she picked up her half-melted sword with dainty hands.

“You won’t escape, Fenrir,” Ilma said, fighting against her dead armor to reengage her prey. “You will die here.”

Unsettled, Yareli fled the warehouse, rushing to the elevator her friends had used to enter the secret lab. What was with that Valkyrie? It was like Ilma had made it her life’s mission to kill her. Yareli pushed the scene from her mind, focusing on finding and protecting her friends. She prayed they were safe.

----

Metal crumpled under Johan’s massive bulk as he crashed into the desk, reducing it to a twisted heap. His massive, tusked head shook in frustration at his opponent’s remarkable fighting ability. Despite his superior power, Halvorsen used the boar form’s strength against him. Johan hissed in pain as a wild charge resulted in him flipping onto the tiled floor, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Johan clutched at his chest as he rose, struggling to regain his breath,

In frustration, Johan extended both arms forward, hoping to crush his squishier opponent. But a sharp pain burned across his back as Halvorsen slipped through the attack, slashing him from behind. Johan swiped backward, hoping to catch his opponent off guard. While the scientist evaded, luck aided Johan—the Valkyrie sword shattered when his fist struck it.

Halvorsen snorted in amusement as he examined the hilt of his broken sword. “You show some ability, lad. But it still isn’t good enough!”

Johan screamed as the broken blade slashed across his face, striking just above his right eye. Enraged by the blood blinding one eye, he hurled a nearby broken desk toward his opponent. Halvorsen dodged, but the projectile clipped his right rib. The desk collided with the lab’s door, smashing the doorway into fine powder.

“Better.” Despite moving with obvious pain, Halvorsen seemed more entertained than anything. “Fight me harder! Hold nothing back!”

“Do you have a death wish? Fine, whatever. It’s your funeral.”

Halvorsen’s face became crestfallen. “Pity. Your power’s depleted, lad.”

“What are you talking about?” Before Johan could finish the sentence, his Angra Armlet hissed and sparked. He stared in shock as fur vanished from his arm, muscles deflating like a fuzzy balloon.

“I warned you it was unstable. The Angra Armlets have a limited energy supply. Damaged, it couldn’t have lasted long. You did your best, lad.”

I’m so stupid! The scientist must have known this would happen—fighting until Johan’s advantage failed. He collapsed, wheezing as his body returned to normal. Breathing was hard as his lungs struggled to adjust to his new size.

Blood continued to blind one eye, muscles sagging as his strength waned. Even blinking exhausted him. The armlet had taken a hefty toll. Desperate, Johan searched for Halvorsen’s fallen gun, but his clumsy fingers struggled to grab it. He winced as his opponent kicked it away. Johan was at the Ymir scientist’s mercy.

Halvorsen moved forward to restrain the helpless Jotnar, but froze when a sound caught his attention. In the lab’s silence, they both heard footsteps approaching.

“What the heck was that?” a familiar voice said. “Was that a miniature earthquake?”

“Yareli!” When Johan turned to give his opponent a smug smile, he frowned as a darkness crossed Halvorsen’s features. Though it lasted only a moment, it felt incongruous with the scientist’s jovial nature.

“Johan!” Yareli said, pushing through the remains of the lab’s door. 

“Unbelievable.” Halvorsen’s voice was flat. “Did you defeat Ilma and the others, Fenrir?”

Yareli tilted her head, puzzled by the response. Her tone was light. “Don’t worry. Your daughter’s fine, Doctor Halvorsen. I’m only here to retrieve my friends.” She made sure her key and belt remained visible—an unspoken threat.

“Take him, then.” The scientist’s mood darkened, though a thin smile crept across his face. “He’s earned it.”

“Samuel’s hurt,” Johan whispered as he stumbled toward Yareli. “Rebecca’s taking him somewhere safe.”

“Can you walk?” Yareli asked, concern in her voice.

“I’ll manage.” Together they fled into the corridor, Johan silently grateful to be free of that deranged scientist.

But Yareli lingered, giving Halvorsen a long, unreadable look before joining her Jotnar friend. Halvorsen made no motion to follow. He remained behind in the lab, alone.

“They must have gone this way,” Johan said, pointing to a faint trail of blood smeared across the polished white tile floor. As they crept through the hallway, his body felt more normal, like he wasn’t a stranger in his own skin. Johan shuddered, not wanting to know the implication of that. 

“That was too close,” Yareli muttered as they walked.

“What do you mean?” Johan asked.

“It was all a bluff,” she admitted. “After fighting the Valkyries, my Rangadriver didn’t have enough power to reactivate. It needs time to recharge.”

“Seriously?” They’d been lucky. If Halvorsen had called her bluff… Johan shuddered. He prayed they wouldn’t run into more trouble.

The blood trail led them to a gym—an odd sight in a secret underground lab. Johan guessed it must’ve been a Valkyrie training ground.

“Rebecca must be looking for medical supplies. Makes sense.” Yareli said.

She was right. They found a mini-clinic nearby—clearly rummaged through. It looked sufficient for minor injuries, though less advanced than Johan had expected. Bandages littered the floor, and the blood trail stopped there. Rebecca had likely stabilized Samuel for now. But a bullet wound wasn’t something you patched up with gauze. He needed a real doctor.

“There.” Johan pointed to an exit sign. “Think that leads out?”

He started toward it, but noticed Yareli hadn’t followed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… not sure.” She paused, shaking her head slightly. “This place triggered something.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“I doubt it. But…” Her brows knit together. “Never mind. We should keep moving.”

She started toward the door, but Johan stopped her gently. “Yareli. Please. What’s going on?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “It’s not the memory itself—it’s what it implies.”

“Which is?”

“They’re just fragments… but I remember training in places like this. I was really young. Around seven.”

Johan frowned, trying to make sense of it. “So… your parents were fitness freaks?” But Yareli remained quiet, lost in her own thoughts. 

That was unsettling. What kind of parents trained their seven-year-old like that?

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, frustration creeping into her voice. “I was just hoping my memories would be… happier.” She turned away, pushing open the exit door without another word.

Johan followed, shaken. He couldn’t blame her. Not knowing your past, your family… it had to be torture.

“There’s a staircase here! I found this stuck in the door.” Yareli held up a pink handkerchief with a cartoon koala on it.

“Rebecca’s,” Johan said immediately. “She must’ve left it to mark the way.”

“Then let’s move.” Yareli started up the stairs.

Johan groaned at the sight. The staircase climbed endlessly. With a sigh of resignation, he followed.

---

“Freaking finally,” Johan gasped as they reached the top. His legs burned from the effort—his forced reversion had drained him more than he realized.

The stairs had been grueling. Did the Valkyries use these for training? Yareli, of course, wasn’t even winded. Did she ever get tired? Her skeletal physiology was still a mystery to him.

The stairwell led to an old parking garage. The door locked behind them—one-way only. No going back. Johan scanned the cars. They were sleek, luxurious machines—each easily worth a couple million euros. Yareli leaned toward a tilted window, trying to identify the make.

“Stop struggling!”

Johan froze. That voice—Dino.

He spotted the thug dragging a scowling Rebecca toward them, his gun pressed to her temple. She didn’t say a word, just glared daggers at her captor.

“Keep searching,” Dino said. “Her friends can’t be far.”

“Yes, sir!” The suited thugs spread out, each carrying a ready pistol. Johan counted at least a dozen.

“With luck,” Dino said, “we’ll catch them by surprise. Fenrir was seen entering the lab. They’ll come running once they know their friend’s in danger.”

Johan tensed. Guilt clawed at him—he should’ve kept everyone together. And Samuel… if they didn’t get him help soon, he might not make it. He doubted Ymir cared enough to intervene.

Yareli motioned him down, guiding them behind one of the luxury cars. Footsteps echoed through the garage—Ymir’s thugs spreading out.

“Yareli?” Johan whispered. She was gripping her Uhyre key.

She gave him a look—calm, confident. “I have a plan. Trust me. They’re just thugs. We can take them.”

“Thugs with guns—but whatever,” Johan thought, but didn’t say. His tension heightened as footsteps approached their hiding spot. Whatever Yareli had planned, she’d better do it quickly. But before she could activate her Rangadriver, a sudden pounding sound caught everyone’s attention.

To Johan’s shock, the door to the secret passage flew off its hinges. Moments later, a Valkyrie in full armor stepped from the exit. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, searching.

“Damn it! You scared the hell out of me!” Dino shouted, nearly letting go of Rebecca. “What the heck are you doing?”

“Where is she?” The Valkyrie’s cold, expressionless voice was unmistakable despite the helmet. “She came this way. I heard her speaking.”

“Her again?” Yareli grunted in annoyance. “The lab must have had an extra set of Valkyrie armor.”

“Dunno. My men haven’t seen her leave the park, so she’s gotta be hiding around here, sneaking between the cars. Don’t worry, I’ve got this under control.” Dino gestured at the captive Rebecca with his gun.

But the Valkyrie barely acknowledged him, continuing her pursuit. Behind their cover, sweat trickled down Johan’s neck. Something about Ilma’s relentless searching unsettled him.

“If you’re out there,” Dino raised his voice, “I recommend surrendering. We’ve got your friend. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Oh, crap—now what? Should they surrender? The Valkyrie’s sudden appearance had ruined whatever Yareli had planned.

“Well?” Johan whispered.

“I don’t want to surrender, but—” Yareli froze as the Valkyrie stalked around the car toward them. Her pace was steady and unyielding, like a hound on the scent. Johan’s heart pounded as they slipped behind another vehicle, avoiding her gaze by a hair.

Frustrated, Ilma grabbed an expensive car with one hand. Johan winced as metal tore against metal. The Valkyrie had hurled a car, demolishing another vehicle in its path. Ymir thugs yelped, nearly caught in the destruction.

“What is wrong with her? Is this chick mental?!” Johan thought, alarmed.

“I doubt the boss’ll appreciate his car collection getting trashed,” Dino muttered, just as stunned as Johan.

“Oh crap!” Yareli grabbed Johan, tossing him aside a moment before another vehicle crushed their hiding spot. They hit the hard pavement, bruised but alive.

Dino flinched at the chaos, then brightened as he spotted his quarry. “There you are. You heard me—I’m not offering again. Surrender before my friend does something else nuts.”

“Now what?” Johan muttered, wincing at the raw scrape on his arm. He reached for his boar key, unsure if it would be of any use.

“How about you surrender?” Dino snapped, pressing his gun tighter to Rebecca’s head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he added, alarmed as Ilma drew her blade and stepped toward Yareli.

“My job,” Ilma said flatly.

“You’ve done enough,” Dino snapped. “We’ve already got plenty of the combat data. I’m not losing them again!”

“Very well.” Ilma sheathed her sword. To Dino’s visible relief, she backed off. Johan couldn’t tell if she’d truly complied or just paused.

“Let’s all be friends here,” Dino said. “No more trouble. You know the drill—drop your Uhyre Key. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Fine, you win,” Yareli said through clenched teeth. Her wolf key clattered onto the pavement.

Johan gritted his teeth. Were they completely screwed? His breath caught as Rebecca locked eyes with him. She’d seen the Uhyre Key still in his hand, her helmet giving him an almost imperceptible, meaningful nod.

Wait, Dino didn’t know about Johan’s Angra Armlet. It wasn’t much—but it might be just enough. Even if it failed, he had to try. They were out of options."

“Good,” Dino said, exhaling. He loosened his grip on Rebecca. “Now kick it over.”

As Yareli prepared to kick the key, Dino noticed Johan shift slightly to the left.

“Freeze. Don’t try anything funny.” But it was too late—Johan had entered ideal striking range. He just needed one more distraction.

“Now, kick—” Dino yelped as Rebecca bit his trigger finger. It wasn’t enough to make him drop the gun, but it gave the opening they needed.

“Terrorize!” Johan shouted, sliding the key into his armlet. For a moment, he feared it wouldn’t start. Sparks flared—then, with a burst of pain, the transformation took hold. The Ymir thug now faced a five-hundred-kilogram boar monster charging straight at him.

Dino panicked, firing instinctively. Bullets struck his face but bounced off harmlessly. Rebecca used the chaos to knee him in the groin and shove him aside. Johan finished it with a backhand that sent Dino crashing into a sports car, crumpling the frame.

“You okay?” Johan’s thick, gravelly voice rumbled as he looked at Rebecca—only to scream in pain as a lance pierced his chest. He staggered, hurt, but not down.

“I’m coming! Henshin!” Steel rang as Fenrir deflected Ilma’s blade. But Johan noticed—Yareli’s strikes lacked their usual strength. She was still drained from her earlier battle.

“Cheap trick,” Dino groaned, clutching his head. “Terrorize!” He jammed in his key, transforming into his bear form.

Johan’s pulse surged as he stood back to back with Yareli. Their enemies were closing in. He didn’t know how much time he had before the Angra Armlet failed again.