jonathanvik

[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.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 9

“Damn, what’s with this heat?” Johan pulled at his jacket’s collar as they descended deeper into the complex, shifting uncomfortably as sweat trickled down his shirt. Despite the lab being devoid of people, he kept his weapon ready, its weight reassuring in his hand. A sense of foreboding filled him, but he couldn’t place why. The temperature intensified as they headed toward the main computer room.

“Whatever this computer system is, it requires tremendous energy.” Rebecca wiped her brow with a koala-imprinted handkerchief. “The cooling system is working overtime to compensate for the energy expenditure.”

“With this heat, is it any wonder no one’s working overtime?” Samuel removed his shirt, exposing his bare chest. A little extreme, but Johan couldn’t blame him. Even Rebecca removed her coat, wrapping it around her waist. The other Jotnar nodded their agreement, but they continued in silence, just in case.

The facility wasn’t too dissimilar from Ymir’s other secret lab in the warehouse, but an overbearing neatness permeated the place. Nothing seemed out of place, everything organized and labeled. Whoever ran this place was a prolific neat freak. From his position behind the windows, Johan spotted mechanical parts and odd devices of unknown use. They tried the doors but found them locked for the night.

“Worry about those later. Let’s investigate the main computer first.” The hacker girl bounced like an excitable child, hardly containing her excitement. Johan dabbed at his forehead with his shirt as they approached the main computer room.

“Interesting.” Rebecca connected her laptop to the electronic lock after they pried open a nearby panel and tapped at the keys.

“What is it?” Samuel asked, his voice tense. “Is it too difficult to break?”

“It’s nothing too serious, but something caught my eye. The system calls this the Surtur Room. Isn’t that the name Simensen gave you?” Rebecca replied.

“It is.” For some inexplicable reason, Johan’s tension intensified. As the door lock released, a wave of heat struck them. It was like walking into a sauna.

“What the hell?” Samuel asked in utter amazement. Standing before them was the largest computer they’d ever seen, occupying an entire wall. Countless box-like servers stood in neat rows, covering almost every square inch of the room. Since when did a computer ever require this much space?

“Fascinating. It’s like a computer from the 1950s. Let’s see.” Rebecca tapped at the keyboard sitting below the computer’s multiple screens. After defeating its rudimentary security, she browsed through the system.

“Well?” Johan asked, wiping sweat off his forehead. The intensity of the heat’s pressure was almost unbearable, fighting the urge to flee to more hospitable temperatures. A desert, maybe? His pistol was slick in his hand, so he put it away. With such unbearable heat, how the heck could anyone work? Wouldn’t they pass out from heatstroke?

“That’s interesting, but what’s the purpose of this?” Rebecca muttered to herself.

“What’s the matter? Is it some kinda superweapon?” Samuel asked.

“I’m not sure.” Rebecca peered at the text flashing across the screen. “Surtur’s processing power is beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. But I can’t tell its purpose.”

Johan blinked. “Sorry?”

“Every bit of processing power is being used for a single program—to calculate a single equation,” Rebecca replied. “It explains the simple security. It’s an unnecessary waste of energy.”

“Why? What is Ymir trying to accomplish?” Johan asked, his tension intensifying threefold.

Countless numbers appeared on the screen—a mathematical equation far beyond anything Johan had ever seen. The endless scrolling text made his head spin. 

“Beats me.” Rebecca growled, throwing her hands up in frustration. “It’s processing and collecting an insane amount of data, but I can’t tell why.”

“What a waste of a technological marvel! Why this single equation?” The hacker girl began pacing with frantic energy, a habit when she was worked up. She suddenly snapped her fingers, withdrawing a USB stick. After inserting it into Surtur, she tapped at some keys. Moments later, she returned the device to her pocket.

When her friends gave her questioning glances, Rebecca replied, wearing a satisfied smile. “I copied a small portion of the data being processed. It should provide some clues about what equation Surtur is working on.”

“Good idea. Let’s leave this heat already! Let’s check the other labs next.” Johan’s shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his skin uncomfortably. He couldn’t imagine how bad they smelled. “They must have a computer with something of actual worth on it.”

“How disappointing!” Samuel said as they left Surtur’s computer room. Johan sighed in relief as they entered the cooler main hall. It was still hot, but it felt like a winter breeze compared to the inferno they’d just escaped. “They’re just computing some math problem!”

“This lab looks more promising,” Rebecca pointed to a door labeled Lab E. “I saw parts that looked like a Rangadriver.”

After a quick key tab, the door swished open. Rebecca’s hacking skills never ceased to amaze Johan. They spread across the room, examining each table surface. They found some Valkyrie weapons in various states of completion. What caught Johan’s eye, however, were parts he recognized from Yareli’s Rangadriver.

“Is this a belt?” While the parts were familiar, the layout seemed different. Johan examined what appeared to be a sword.

“What do we have here?” Rebecca broke into a nearby laptop, scanning through its files. After several moments of tapping, she found some blueprints. “They’re exploring different designs to make the device less strenuous on the user.”

Samuel smirked. “So they’re floundering around in the dark, then?”

“So it seems.” Rebecca tapped her chin, scrolling through the different projects Ymir was experimenting with. Most of them sounded fantastical, even by Ymir standards: an antimatter fusion drive, a counter-gravity generator, digitizing a human brain, and hard-light holograms. You couldn’t accuse the company of not shooting for the stars.

“How interesting! They’re expanding their teleportation experiment’s scope. With a powerful enough relay tower to boost the signal, you could theoretically teleport anywhere on Earth!”

“Fascinating, Becca, but is there anything useful? Any dirt?” Samuel asked impatiently. With Yareli engaging the Valkyries, they might send someone into the lab to double-check its security.

“There isn’t a folder labeled ‘evil plan,’ if that’s what you’re wondering. But I caught something.” Rebecca grunted in annoyance. “They’re building toward something. I’m finding reports of massive development of Angra Armlets.”

“Really? What’s the rush?” Johan asked, bristling with apprehension.

“Not sure, but they’re assembling hundreds of them. President Wilson recently left a memo ordering increased production to fulfill a certain timetable. I found the word ‘Ragnarök’ mentioned once or twice.” Johan instinctively swallowed, not liking the sound of that.

“Great, so there is a larger plot.” Samuel scowled. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Actually, yes.” Rebecca brightened. “I have a computer virus that will wipe out their system. Everything’s probably backed up, no doubt, but it’ll slow them down.”

“Good idea. Burn everything!” Samuel beamed with a mischievous smile.

“You said they’re producing Angra Armlets? Are they producing them here?” Johan asked. They found pieces of Angra Armlets scattered around the lab on work tables, but none seemed functional. Most appeared either in pieces or disrepair, but a few seemed halfway completed.

“Up in the main Sköll building. That’s where they’re being produced,” Rebecca replied. “Would you believe we passed them without even realizing it? They’re stored in those crates we saw earlier.”

“Good. There’s no time to waste.” Johan said. 

With Yareli still fighting for her life, she needed their help right away. It shouldn’t be hard to break open a crate to steal one. They’d only been locked with a simple computerized lock. If only they’d examined them earlier! But they had been too occupied looking for this lab’s entrance.

“Just let me insert the computer virus.” Rebecca’s hand reached for a side pocket on her still wrapped coat, but Samuel tackled her to the floor. Johan winced as a gun crackled, shattering Rebecca’s workstation. Pieces of broken glass rained on their heads like sparkling confetti.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I’ve worked too hard to allow such interruptions.” At the lab’s door stood Valter Halvorsen, pistol in hand. From his picture, he seemed like an enormous man. In person, however, he was a proverbial giant.

“If you’re wise, you’ll surrender, whoever you are.” An edge entered Halvorsen’s voice. “I won’t ask again.”

Panic filled Johan as he remembered the scientist’s military training. Despite his lengthy retirement, time clearly hadn’t dulled his skills or physique. The man seemed pure muscle, his eyes shining with fierce, alert intelligence. From this position, it seemed unlikely the Jotnar could jump him. Halvorsen was waiting for them to attempt something stupid.

“Well?” Johan gave his friends a nervous glance.

“Do we have a choice?” Rebecca raised her hands in surrender. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. Let me do the talking.”

Samuel shot her a skeptical look. “Will they even listen? Ymir killed the Boss without hesitation. They’ll trample anyone in their way.”

“I know. But trust me, okay?” Rebecca’s voice was tense. “I’ve got a trick up my sleeve.”

“That won’t work!” Deep down, Johan knew it didn’t matter how convincing Rebecca was. Ymir would kill them—or worse, use them against Yareli. Johan cursed under his breath. He still had his pistol, but it was no match for the scientist’s superior training. He’d be dead before his weapon even tracked him.

Rebecca raised her voice, calling out over the counter. “You win! We surrender! Just don’t shoot!”

“Rise up slowly. Any funny business and I’ll shoot you dead. Don’t think I won’t.” Halvorsen had a perfect line of sight. Johan considered running—splitting in different directions and praying for luck—but he refused to lose any more friends.

“If only I could transform,” Johan thought, gripping his Uhyre Key in his pocket hard enough to make the metal squeal. Then, like lightning, a desperate idea struck. Risky, but it might work.

He gestured subtly at Samuel to run. His friend gave him a questioning look, unsure, but then nodded. He drew his weapon, face set with resolve.

“Please don’t die,” Johan whispered.

Samuel burst from cover, sprinting toward a nearby table, weapon raised. Halvorsen tracked him instantly.

“Rebecca—pull everything off the table!” Johan shouted.

“Wait, what?” she said, confused. But she obeyed. Johan winced as heavy equipment crashed onto his head. Gunshots rang out. Rebecca screamed. Samuel howled in pain.

“Are you okay?” Johan cried.

“I’m fine!” Rebecca’s voice trembled. “It flew over me!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Halvorsen barked, still trying to piece it together.

Johan didn’t answer. He clawed through the debris, praying his memory was right. Then—there! The Angra Armlet. Damaged, incomplete—but it was hope. As he reached for it, Halvorsen kicked the table. Johan hit the tiled floor hard—checkered green and white, he noted numbly. What an odd detail to notice at such a time.

Halvorsen loomed over him, gun pointed at his head.

“Looking for salvation in scrap? Foolish.” His voice was cold.

Johan’s eyes locked onto the armlet, just meters away. Close—but impossibly far with a gun to his skull.

“It’s over. Surrender, or die,” Halvorsen said.

Before Johan could speak, Rebecca screamed and hurled herself at the scientist. The impact knocked his gun aside. Halvorsen grunted and flung her away, but it was enough. Johan lunged for the armlet, strapping it to his arm.

Halvorsen narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to use that? Reckless.”

Johan ignored him. He slammed his boar etched Uhyre Key into place. “Terrorize!”

Sparks exploded, the device lighting up like fireworks. Agony ripped through him, the pain blinding and almost driving him to his knees. But then the pain stabilized. Laughter burst from his throat—deep, booming, monstrous. Dark fur spread over his skin. Muscles bulged. Tusked jaws curled into a smirk as he glared down at the now dwarfed. He’d grown a full meter taller than the scientist.

“I thought the shock might kill you,” If Halvorsen was intimated by the hulking monster standing before him, he didn’t show it. No, he seemed more amused than anything.

“You might want to surrender,” Johan rumbled.

Instead, Halvorsen tossed his coat onto a chair and dropped into a fighting stance. What? He wanted to throw down with him? That was insane.

“Rebecca, get Samuel out of here,” Johan said. She nodded and rushed to their wounded friend. Blood soaked his side, but he was alive. Halvorsen hadn’t aimed to kill.

“They won’t escape,” Halvorsen said coolly. “Ilma will deal with them. You’re brave, I’ll give you that.”

Halvorsen’s large frame bent down, scooping up a half-finished Valkyrie sword from the floor. “But I’m not so easy to beat.”

Johan charged. While he possessed no claws like Selim’s demented spider form, his fists felt like sledgehammers. The power of his punch was incredible, like he could level a building with a single blow. He held back—just enough to avoid killing. He’d wound Halvorsen, then flee.

His punch arced toward the man’s chest.

Halvorsen caught it.

With both hands.

“What—” Johan blinked.

“I never bought into Wilson’s theories,” Halvorsen said calmly. “Strength doesn’t come from machines. It comes from within.”

A brutal punch cracked into Johan’s nose. Then a flurry of slashes drove him back, each lighting a fire on his chest. He stumbled back, his bulk smashing him through a table by accident. It shattered in a spray of splinters, but Johan’s thick fur barely noticed it. He staggered upright, shaking his head.

“You held back,” Halvorsen said, stepping forward. “Big mistake.”

He raised the blade overhead, stance poised. “If you want to survive, monster—fight with everything you have.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 8

“You what?!” Johan said in shocked outrage.

“He’s an ally. I don’t see the problem,” Yareli replied, defending herself. The blowback to her choice to bring Anderson into their little conspiracy had been greater than she’d expected. “We’ll need his help to fight Ymir.”

“She’s got a point,” Rebecca said. “With the Niflhel rampaging around, it was inevitable the law would get involved.”

But Samuel in particularly wasn’t even remotely placated. “Can you even trust this cop Anderson? What if Ymir buys him off?!”

“He seemed trustworthy to me.” Yareli didn’t appreciate the Jotnar’s cynical tone. He was judging someone he’d never even met.

“Let’s not fight.” Gramps placed a tray of coffee on the table they sat around. “We should count ourselves lucky we’ve gained another ally. Ymir will win if we squabble amongst ourselves.”

“Fine, sure,” Samuel replied grudgingly, sipping his coffee to release his pent-up tension. The rest of the Jotnar ignored the offered coffee.

“Are we abandoning our plan to infiltrate Sköll?” Johan asked.

“No, we’re continuing.” While Yareli felt guilty for disobeying Anderson, they couldn’t afford to stay idle. What if Ymir made another Ragnadriver?

“Good, I’ve gathered some useful information in that regard.” Rebecca turned over her laptop to reveal a rough outline of a building. “It’s only the original blueprint, but it provides us a rough layout. Underground is where the building is drawing the most power. I suspect it’s for a computer system. Though, why they require that much energy is beyond me. Even their teleportation experiments didn’t demand that much power.”

“If they’re creating dangerous, illegal technology, that computer must have the data we need,” Johan said.

“Indeed.” While Anderson would be furious with her, the stolen data would provide solid proof of the megacorporation’s wrong doing. Besides, shutting down this mysterious computer seemed well worth the effort.

“Discover anything interesting about Sköll?” Yareli asked.

“Glad you asked.” Rebecca pulled up a picture of a rather muscular scientist. What drew her attention most were his intelligent, piercing eyes. She stared at them, mesmerized. “This is Valter Halvorsen, Sköll’s lead scientist.”

“Wait, isn’t the leader of the Valkyries an Ilma Halvorsen? Are they related?” Johan asked.

Rebecca nodded. “He’s her father.”

Yareli barely heard them, their words muffed as she continued to stare at the Halvorsen’s photo. A pang of familiarity struck her as she stared at the burly scientist’s face. Had she finally discovered a solid link to her past? Through her whirling emotion, Yareli finally got herself speaking again. “Who is he, anyway?”

“Born in Haugesund, Norway in 2010. At the age of 18, he enlisted in the Norwegian military. He earned quite a distinguished career as a soldier from all accounts, earning the rank of Sersjant, or Sergeant.” Rebecca said, scanning her notes. “Then, out of nowhere, he dropped his commission to earn Computer Science and Engineering doctorates. A genius, from all accounts.”

“Becca, your information-gathering skills are impeccable!” Samuel beamed with pleasure.

“Was there any doubt?” Rebecca replied smugly before returning to her computer. “Sköll’s security seems light, but I doubt it will be easy once we’re inside.”

“We?” Samuel raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you willing to do dangerous stuff?”

Their hacker flushed with embarrassed outrage. “This lab contains advanced stuff. You’ll need my help. Besides, we have a super-soldier aiding us.”

“Super-soldier?” Yareli parroted, not partially keen about the label. But what was she then? A superhero? No, that didn’t fit either. She was Yareli, she guessed. That would have to do. She didn’t need to belong anywhere or needed any title. 

“We have the beginnings of an excellent plan. But this might help.” Gramps opened a box Yareli hadn’t noticed, placing its contents on the table. Rebecca’s eyes widened in surprise as the device clanked against the hard wooden surface. 

“A Uhyre Key?” Rebecca poked a finger at the device, wary like it might bite her like a snake. The key bore the symbol of a boar.

“I haven’t been idle. It’s a replica.” Gramps puffed out his chest. “I figure if one of you youngsters steals an Angra Armlet, Yareli won’t have to fight alone.”

“And become one of those monsters? No, thanks.” Samuel made a face. “Why didn’t you build a new Ragnadriver instead?”

“Young man, the Ragnadriver is the most advanced piece of machinery I’ve ever encountered. It must have cost Ymir millions of euros to develop. It’s far beyond an old tinkerer like myself to crack. The Uhyre Keys, however, aren’t as complex. They’re meant for mass production.”

“Right,” Samuel replied, chastised.

“Count me out. I’m not the fighting type,” Rebecca backed away from the device like it was unclean. 

“I’ll take it!” Johan said, snatching the key from the tabletop before anyone could stop him.

“Are you sure? These fights will be dangerous.” Yareli had seen how he’d handled himself in previous encounters. She wasn’t sure if Johan had the aptitude to become a warrior. And who knew what weird side effects the Uhyre Keys might have?

Johan studied his Uhyre Key in his hands before giving an emphatic nod. He bristled with equal parts dread and anticipation, hefting the device like it bore the weight of the world. “Positive. I want to fight too. What about you, Samuel?” Johan gave his friend a curious glance. “Didn’t you swear revenge on that Dino guy?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Samuel withdrew his handgun. “I have this. It’s more than enough. I don’t need some fancy, high-tech weapon to be a badass.”

“Okay.” Though Johan sounded less than pleased. 

“Are you sure you can do this, Johan?” Yareli asked.

“I can.” Johan said, nodding. He was serious about this, and Yareli found she couldn’t argue. If he wanted to fight, it as his choice. She admitted his courage, and hoped he had the strength to see this through. 

Rebecca slapped her hands together. “Let’s be about it. We have some bad guys to bust!”

---

“Was it wise informing the public about the Valkyrie System?” Lauper asked. “This goes well beyond our original plan. It might interfere with Ragnarök.”

“It won’t. In fact, it will be beneficial.” Wilson steepled his hands. “It proves Ymir has the power to protect them. Besides, the Valkyrie System is one of our lesser, weaker projects. Halvorsen is fond of it, but it has limited potential.”

“The Uhyre Keys have potential we haven’t even dreamed of yet.” The memories of his fight with Fenrir flashed through Wilson’s mind. His transformation’s power was beyond even his predictions. He’d felt invincible. Perhaps he’d overestimated the Ragnadriver’s capabilities?

“If you say so, sir. But I still fear the trouble the Niflhel might cause us,” Lauper said, her expression pensive.

“Agreed. But we’ve wounded him. Searching for him should keep the police busy.”

Still, he wasn’t pleased about those two officers that helped Fenrir escape. It might cause problems later on. But Wilson also saw opportunities. The detective, Berthold Anderson, hadn’t raised a fuss about encountering an unknown rooster monster or mentioned anything about the person in wolf armor. The detective also hadn’t taken Fenrir into official custody, which only worked for Ymir’s benefit. Anderson’s higher-up likely knew nothing about the skeletal warrior.

His contacts in the Bifrost Police Department were ready to suppress Anderson if he caused a fuss. However, he intended to leave the detective alone for the moment. Someone had to investigate and arrest the Niflhel. Besides, he suspected Anderson would eventually lead Ymir to Fenrir, wherever she hid. The detective would serve his purpose.

“President!” a familiar voice said. Wilson raised his head to discover a distressed Reine standing by his office door. He broke into a smile, his worries temporarily forgotten.

“Reine, whatever is the matter?”

Ymir’s idol hesitated to speak before finally gaining her courage. “What’s this talk about monsters, President? People are saying horrible things about Ymir online! The message boards are full of conspiracy theories and accusations.”

“It’s a secret project we’ve been developing for some while,” Wilson replied. “Ymir has been looking into expanding its horizons.”

“People are saying we’re creating weapons of war.” Reine’s expression turned pensive.

“We aren’t arms dealers. We are pioneers of the future. It’s our purpose.”

When he started his company almost twenty years ago, Wilson swore an oath to leave the world a better place. Ymir had already created several marvels in technology. However, it still wasn’t enough. War and poverty were still humanity’s greatest problems. Experience had taught him only force could exact change.

The idol glanced down, her expression turning more worried. “With those hooligans running rampant, people are terrified. They’re worried Ymir will turn against them next.”

A scowl appeared on Wilson’s face. Public opinion had soured worse than he’d expected. He was lucky to have Reine watching out for these dangers. Once Ragnarök began, people needed to understand they could trust Ymir. He doubted his company’s stock price had improved much, either.

“Actually, I think I might have an idea,” Reine said, interrupting Wilson’s brooding.

“Go on.”

“The monsters scare people, but the Valkyries intrigue them. I could do a piece to boost people’s confidence in them.”

After some consideration, Wilson nodded, warming to the idea. “A little PR stunt wouldn’t hurt. Do you have any ideas in mind?”

Reine tapped her chin, considering the question, before nodding. “How about I train as a Valkyrie? Show people what they can do? The public will eat it up. I could even showcase it in my next album!” She winked, showering Wilson with her dazzling smile. 

“Yes, excellent idea. I will speak with Halvorsen right away.” Wilson smiled, grateful for Ymir’s idol’s foresight. Another distraction for the public wouldn’t hurt.

“Thank you, sir. You won’t regret this.” Reine made a battle pose. “I’ve always wanted to go to boot camp.”

---

Johan grunted in irritation as he pushed a bookshelf aside, uncovering nothing behind it.

Like the others, this office held no hidden passageways like the warehouse with the secret lab. Bypassing the security and sneaking past the token guards was simple, but the place seemed barren. Not that it wasn’t suspicious. Despite appearing like your typical manufacturing company, Yareli sensed something off.

“We’re standing right above the power sucker. The entrance should be around here somewhere.” Rebecca studied the building’s blueprint of her computer for the hundredth time, striving to divine the building’s secrets from it.

Yareli scanned the files on the desk, ascertaining anything interesting about them. They contained production schedules, but nothing that exciting. One point caught her attention, however. The company was far outproducing what they were selling to other companies. Almost a three-to-one ratio. How suspicious.

“Should we just break our way inside?” Samuel asked, losing his patience. “If we smash enough things, it should reveal something.” 

“Let’s not get hasty and draw unwanted attention,” Rebecca waved her hands in the negative. They ducked as a bored security guard passed the room with a torch, scanning the surrounding area before disappearing down a hallway.

“Hello,” Rebecca said after gazing out a window.

“What is it?” Johan whispered, still wary with guards about.

“The guards are showing an unusual interest in that shack. Watch.” Rebecca pointed towards the seemingly uninteresting building in question. A guard surreptitiously checked that the shack’s door was secure before moving on. While he attempted to pass the action off as another routine check, he wasn’t as attentive to the other doors he’d passed.

“It’s out in the open, though,” Samuel observed. The shack stood in a wide-open area, well-lit by spotlights. It would be impossible to approach without being seen by the security cameras.

“That’s a problem.” Yareli watched the shack, trying to divine a way to sneak in without drawing a commotion. 

Once the battle started, how long until Ymir sent reinforcements? After her disastrous fight with President Wilson, Yareli was more cautious. She’d learned the hard way the Ragnadriver didn’t make her invincible.

“Is that the only entrance? Any air ducts we could slip through?” Samuel glanced around, frowning as he spotted a duct too small for any human to fit through. That way won’t work.

“It would be a major oversight if we could,” Rebecca replied, tapping her chin.

Suddenly, the shack’s door opened, and three girls exited the building. The first stood a meter above the others, her hair chestnut. Her body was lean and muscular from years of hard labor. Yet, instead of coming across as intimidating, her face was open and friendly. The next appeared to be Indian, her hair tied in a tight braid with a nose ring whose color matched her striking golden eyes. Ilma, the leader of the Valkyries, stood among their number. While they laughed and talked, their leader only responded with a stoic nod.

“Hello. Ymir sure knows how to pick them.” Samuel’s mouth spread in a wide grin, giving the girls an appreciative glance. “Shame they’re on the wrong side.”

“Sure.” Yareli rolled her eyes, but still studied the Valkyries with interest. They were wearing civilian clothes, casual, the type you’d expected to see in a club or bar. They must be going out. Much to her surprise, the trio seemed like ordinary girls. The news made them sound like super soldiers.

At least they’d confirmed it was an entrance to the secret lab. There must be another way inside. For fire safety, at least. 

“Let’s keep searching around.” No point in drawing attention to themselves yet. The night was still young. They could afford to be patient. They’d use that entrance as a last resort. Yareli froze as Ilma’s ears perked up, staring directly at her.

“What the—?” Had the Valkyrie leader noticed them? But how?

The other girls furrowed their brows in confusion when they caught their leader’s expression. Ilma pulled out a device, pressed a key combination, and attached it to her waist.

“Transmetal, modify.” Her body glowed with brilliant light, like she’d become cloaked in divine light, like an angel. Metal spread across her body, becoming more like a second skin than armor. Wings of jagged metal formed from her back, which took flight as the Valkyrie sprang toward them. A spear formed in her waiting hand, aimed at Yareli’s throat. The Jotnar screamed in fright as glass rained upon them, the warrior woman leaping through the window.

“Found you.” The Valkyrie thrust her weapon forward, and only Yareli’s quick reflexes saved her. A spear tip ripped through Yareli’s biker outfit, exposing her skeletal ribs.

The Jotnar scattered as Ilma swung her weapon around for another thrust. Yareli kicked the desk they stood over to intercept the attack. A single blow shattered it into pieces, but the delay allowed her to attach her Ragnadriver.

“Henshin!” Metal clashed against Yareli’s armor, deflecting the weapon. A second later, Ilma would have impaled her before the transformation ended.

“Her speed’s incredible.” Yareli cursed as the other Valkyries flew into the scene, though not as destructively.

“One warning,” a Valkyrie, the tallest one, said. “Surrender, or we’ll use force.”

Before Yareli could reply, the impact from a spear hurled her across the room into a filing cabinet.

“What are you doing?” the other Valkyrie asked her leader in confusion, her thick Indian accent coming through the suit’s speakers. 

“This is a battle. She won’t surrender, so why bother asking?” Ilma replied after a moment’s pause. The other Valkyries only shrugged and moved to surround the prone Yareli.

How had their plan gone south so quickly? Thankfully, the Jotnar had disappeared before the other Valkyrie had arrived. She’d serve as an excellent distraction while her friends found some way to break into the lab.

Did Ilma notice the Jotnar? After some consideration, Yareli decided she had been too focused on defeating Fenrir. While this would make her friends’ mission easier, she still worried about getting them caught up in their battle. A sudden idea struck her—she leapt out the window the Valkyrie leader had entered. This sudden change in the battlefield caught her opponents by surprise, and they chased after her. Yareli landed on all fours and turned to face her foes.

“They can fly?” She marveled as the Valkyries spread their wings and hovered in midair. One dove at her at blinding speed, Fenrir just ducking away. 

Another spear thrust caught her from behind, and Fenrir caught herself midair as it sent her flying. Another flew to skewer her, but the attacker screamed as Yareli ducked under the blow and raked her with her claws. Much to her surprise, she’d ripped through a significant portion of the Valkyrie’s wing. These suits were more fragile than Yareli had expected.

“Abbey! Are you okay?” The Indian Valkyrie said in shock. They hadn’t expected Fenrir to be this powerful.

“I’m fine, Pihu. I can still fight.” Abbey flipped back to her feet, unsheathed a sword attached at her waist, and tossed her spear aside.

“Three vs. one, not good,” Yareli thought. Ilma swooped down with her spear, aimed with deadly precision. Yareli dodged, but Abbey’s sword tip catch her mid-leap. 

“I’ll join you.” The Valkyrie leader’s wings folded as she unsheathed her own sword and landed. Abbey and Ilma’s blades worked together to overwhelm their foe, while the last Valkyrie distracted Fenrir with swooping attacks from the air.

In the distance, Yareli spotted her friends conversing, arguing about how best to proceed. A sly idea popped into her head. Metal sparked as her claws caught an incoming spear thrust from the aerial Peru. Her opponents’ skill impressed her—each attack well-coordinated to keep Fenrir off-balance. But she used their coordinated combat style against them, positioning herself, so the flying Valkyrie had trouble thrusting her spear without endangering an ally.

Steel clashed as Ilma engaged, the warrior deflecting Yareli’s every attack with her own blade. Her opponent’s swordsmanship was impossibly skilled, predicting Fenrir’s every move with incredible ease. The taller Valkyrie took advantage of the distraction, sparks flashing as she delivered another nasty slash across the chest. Before Pihu could strike a stabbing blow with her spear, Fenrir darted back, switching her weapon to gun mode. The Valkyries retreated a step as Yarelu peppered them with random bolts. But that wasn’t her intention.

Her helmet hid a pleased smile as a seemingly stray shot obliterated the door protecting the shack’s secrets. That would make it easier for her allies to sneak inside. Satisfied with her work, she fled the scene with the Valkyries on her tail, luring them toward the main building.

---

“Is she trying to get herself killed?” Johan gripped his Uhyre key tight enough to hurt as Yareli lured the Valkyries away, taking on three opponents alone.

Samuel put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s giving us the opportunity to complete the mission. She’s strong. We’ll catch her up later.”

“We better hurry.” Rebecca glanced around anxiously, expecting an attack at any moment. They ducked behind a wall as two guards approached.

“What the heck is happening?” a guard asked. “Are we under attack? Is it the Niflhel? I thought I saw the Valkyries fighting a wolf creature.”

“Possible,” the other guard replied before cursing. “Their fight exposed the lab’s entrance. Halvorsen will kill us if anybody discovers it. Watch the entrance while I get reinforcements.”

The first guard nodded while the second pulled out his phone. Before he could enter a number, he froze when he felt a barrel pressed against his neck.

“Harvey!” the first guard cried out in alarm.

“Press a single button and a bullet will go through your spine.” Samuel kept his voice low and menacing. Harvey trembled and nodded, dropping his phone to the ground. The other guard froze, throwing the Jotnar a silent glare.

“Guards in the secret lab—how many?” Samuel asked.

Harvey hesitated, but a jab of Samuel’s gun made him reassess the wisdom of not answering. “About five, maybe? It’s unusually empty at this hour.”

“Security inside?”

“Just cameras. Please don’t shoot me. I have a family!” The man trembled harder, expecting death at any moment.

Too terrified to lie, the man answered Samuel’s questions to the best of his ability. Meanwhile, Johan restrained the other guard with zip ties. After Samuel got the answers he sought, they repeated the process with Jim. They deposited the guards into a janitor’s closet for later discovery.

“Hopefully, we won’t meet much resistance down there,” Rebecca said. In the background, Yareli’s desperate battle raged on. They watched as a piece of roof exploded, spewing dust everywhere.

“Let’s hurry. We can’t afford to waste any more time,” Johan said, dashing toward the half-destroyed shed. Thankfully, Yareli had destroyed the security camera along with the electronic lock.

What remained of the shed was basic supplies for maintaining the building’s grounds, but otherwise appeared unremarkable. They found the hidden lever the security guard had mentioned. It opened to reveal a concealed elevator. After some hesitation, Johan pressed the lone button on the panel. This was it. Whatever dangers they encountered, they faced them alone. Samuel gripped his gun hard enough to make his dark knuckles pale. He prayed to God whatever they discovered in Ymir’s secret lab would be worth it.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 7

“What’s happening?” The ground thundered as the building collapsed, dust bellowing everywhere. It splashed against Anderson’s windshield, blinding him. He slammed hard on the brakes, narrowly avoiding crashing his police cruiser into a pole.

Cries of pain howled through the obscuring cloud, but he focused on the immediate problem ahead. Anderson coughed, covering his mouth with his arm as he left his vehicle and unholstered his weapon.

“What could cause this building to collapse?” It had just burst apart, like a wrecking ball had struck it. But no construction equipment sat anywhere nearby. Wary of danger, he crept toward the collapsed building, checking for signs of trapped people.

With deft fingers, he tapped his phone to request emergency services. But he paused as a figure dressed in wolf armor pulled themselves from the rubble. To his astonishment, the armor was real metal—not plastic or cardboard like something from a fan convention. They limped toward him before collapsing. Their armor flashed, and Anderson gasped as a familiar, suited figure appeared.

The girl raised a weak hand. “Please, I need to escape before he gets me.”

“Who?” Questions about the armor could wait. Her desperate words had sparked his natural cop instincts, and Anderson helped the biker girl to her feet.

“Huh?” Anderson furrowed his brow in confusion when he touched her body. Was that padding?

A thundering boom caught Anderson’s attention, and he gasped in disbelief as something tore through the building’s wreckage. Whatever the creature was, it definitely wasn’t human.

“You aren’t getting away, Fenrir.”

“Please,” Yareli pleaded again, totally helpless.

“Hang on!” Anderson didn’t hesitate, pulling the girl into his car. She was surprisingly light. His eyes bulged in panic when the monster spotted him, catching his clumsy rescue attempt.

Anderson nearly stumbled over his own feet in his rush to the driver’s side door, his sweaty fingers struggling to open the latch.

“You aren’t going anywhere!” The monster stomped after them, relentless in its pursuit. But it paused as a bullet struck its head.

“Get going!” Though terrified beyond belief, Johnson’s hand was firm as he backed up his partner. These seconds of distraction gave Anderson just enough time to stumble into the driver’s seat. He didn’t even put on his seat belt as he activated the controls, forgetting about the autodrive.

The monster’s footsteps thundered as it rushed to stop him, but Johnson leapt onto its back with abandon, momentarily halting its progress—until a swipe of its hand tossed him through a nearby wired fence.

Brave fool. Anderson prayed to God that he hadn’t lost his partner. His car squealed as it sped into a side road, the vehicle bucking as he took a curve too hard.

The monster moved to pursue, but halted, deciding against it. Still, it watched them, promising this wasn’t over. They were safe—for now.

“Young lady, explain to me what the hell is…” Anderson’s voice froze, almost colliding with an oncoming car in his shock. The biker girl’s helmet had fallen off as her body slumped over in the back seat. It couldn’t be possible. Another near collision brought his attention back to the road, and he parked in a random lot.

“She’s a skeleton.” Anderson’s words sounded dumb to his own ears, like he was parroting something he didn’t understand. What the hell was happening? He shook his head like a broken automaton, repeating the action over and over. “Am I dreaming?”

“Thanks for rescuing me.”

Anderson jerked in surprise, his head smarting as it collided with the roof. The skeleton girl was moving!

A million questions fought for attention, but he settled on the most pressing one. “What the hell are you?”

Yareli remained silent for several moments before answering. “I wish I knew that myself.”

Welcome pain spiked through Anderson’s head as he slammed it against the steering wheel, praying it would wake him from this insanity. Yareli reattached her helmet, fiddling with the door controls to free herself.

“Sorry, but you’re not leaving until I get some answers.”

“Yeah, right.” Yareli held a strange pendant in her hand. But she returned it around her neck a moment later, deciding against whatever she had planned. “I suppose you deserve that much. Ask anything.”

“What was that monster?”

“That was President Wilson, head of Ymir.”

Anderson blinked, momentarily baffled. “Care to elaborate?”

“Ymir is creating weapons capable of turning people into monsters. It’s part of their plan to take over the world. Selim, leader of Niflhel, used one to transform into that spider monster. He stole it from Visscher during their fight.”

These devices transform people into monsters? World domination? Why not. But it explained a few things. He’d always had suspicions that the company was involved in shady dealings. There’d been rumors about government officials turning a blind eye to their activities. This complicated matters.

“This belt transforms me into the armor you saw earlier,” Yareli continued. “Guns can’t stop them. My power might be the only thing capable of fighting them. Wilson seeks to capture me and steal my belt.”

“And you have this belt because…?” Yareli remained silent, unwilling to answer.

Anderson had a deep suspicion that she’d stolen it from Ymir. How the hell could he explain any of this to his higher-ups? A worse thought struck him. What if they were on Ymir’s payroll? Anderson wasn’t naïve enough to believe every cop was clean.

“You’re taking this calmer than I expected,” Yareli said.

“No, I’m damn well not!” Anderson snapped back. “Ever since I took this case, the world has gone crazy. You’re telling me Wilson is creating monsters to take over the world? I’m just a homicide detective! This is well beyond my pay grade!”

“Sorry.” Yareli lowered her head, pained.

“Ain’t your fault, kid.” Anderson’s mind raced, considering his options. Since fate apparently hated him personally, he needed to act on this new information. World domination. Could anyone even pin such a charge on a corporation? Making any charges stick against such a giant entity with an army of the best lawyers would be a nightmare.

“This isn’t my field, damn it.” Anderson thought. Aloud, he said. “Okay, lie low for now. I’ll pull some strings, see what I can uncover about this weapon program.”

And then they could ask some pointed questions about why some street thugs were able to steal weapon tech and go on a rampage. Then what? End with lawsuits for reckless endangerment to the public? That’s only a stopgap measure, but the public pressure might pause whatever plans they had brewing. Then the implications of such technology hitting the black market struck him.

If ordinary means can’t fight these monsters, what happens once criminals use them? Anderson slammed his head against the steering wheel again, hating his life.

“What now?” Yareli fidgeted in her seat. “Are you turning me in?”

“No, I’m not.” He realized how frightened the girl must be, and a wave of compassion washed over him. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping your secret. I have no intention of turning you over to some lab.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s get you somewhere safe.” Anderson broke into a genuine smile. “Then, you can expound on Ymir’s activities. You’re an important witness.” Though, having a skeleton take the stand would be… odd.

“Release me. Selim’s still out there.” Yareli fiddled with the door control again. “We can’t afford to let Ymir defeat him first. Wilson told me they’d sent someone after him. They’ll make him disappear and eliminate any evidence.”

“Oh no, you’re going somewhere safe.” Anderson’s voice brooked no argument. “You can barely stand.” The biker girl might not have realized it, but her body wobbled unsteadily.

“Damn it! This has never happened before.” Yareli slumped against the chair. “How can I be tired? I don’t sleep or feel pain, yet my body feels drained. Worn out.”

“Beats me. I’ve never met a skeleton person before. It’s for the best. No more fighting. Let me handle Ymir. They aren’t something you can fight with fists. Any heroics will probably get you killed.”

Instead of responding, Yareli brooded in silence.

His phone buzzed, and he sighed in relief when he noticed the call came from his partner.

“Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Fine, actually,” Johnson replied. “That weird rooster monster only knocked the wind out of me, but otherwise left me alone. What about the girl? Did you get her to safety? Why was it chasing her?”

At least President Wilson had avoided a murder rap.

“She’s safe. I’ll explain later. Selim Vagh, status?”

“Good news and bad news on that front. We’ve apprehended a good portion of his gang. But Vagh himself is still at large. He’s received some serious injuries.”

“By what?” Even Yareli’s wolf armor had been no match for those monsters.

“Uh, well. Ymir did, sir.”

“What? Did that rooster monster stop him?”

“Turn on your TV. See for yourself.”

“What’s going on?” Yareli asked, peering closer.

Not liking the sound of this, Anderson switched on his car’s monitor to the local news. A female reporter spoke over a scene of havoc and destruction. He recognized the building that Wilson had totaled.

“A strange occurrence happened in downtown Bifrost as it became the scene of a massive and bloody battle. Reports say sixteen police officers have lost their lives in the line of duty. Selim Vagh, leader of the notorious Niflhel gang, reportedly went on a rampage earlier today at thirteen hundred hours using stolen experimental technology. The suspect still remains at large.”

“Stolen technology?” Yareli asked.

“Reports say the gang leader stole it from Ymir’s late Head of Media, Arend Visscher. The gang ruthlessly killed him and spirited away the Angra Armlet, the device used to cause the scene of carnage today. The Bifrost Police Department assembled a SWAT team to apprehend the suspect for the murder. But they were unprepared for the device’s power. It turned Niflhel’s leader into a spider-like monster, and the SWAT team was completely helpless against its assault.”

Pictures of a white spider creature, taken with a camera phone, appeared on the screen.

“The suspect continued to rampage until these brave young women arrived to stop him. Together they drove Vagh off and protected the officers still on scene.”

More pictures appeared, showing women in strange armor wielding spears and flying with dazzling white wings. Gray armor covered their bodies, with winged helmets and thin visors hiding their faces. Attached to their belts was a black and silver device in the rough shape of a V with a diamond-shaped panel. Their visors glowed a luminescent red.

“They call themselves the Valkyries, straight out of the old Norse myths. A new type of protective armor developed by Ymir for both police and military use. They arrived on the scene to protect our brave officers from Vagh. Their leader, Ilma Halvorsen, is here to answer some questions. Can you explain more about the Valkyrie System and its purpose? What went through your mind as you confronted that terrible creature?”

“The Valkyrie System is a new type of combat armor capable of withstanding far more than your typical body armor.” A new woman appeared on the screen. She removed her Valkyrie armor’s helmet, revealing platinum hair done up in a short, curly bob. She was younger than Anderson had expected, tall with lean muscular frame. “It greatly enhances physical strength, useful for combat situations and search and rescue. Observe.”

Ilma gestured to a fellow Valkyrie still in armor. They walked up to the collapsed building and grabbed a piece of the fallen roof with one hand. With little difficulty, they lifted it, revealing an officer trapped underneath. EMTs rushed to the man’s aid and pulled him to safety. With a casual flick, the Valkyrie tossed the slab aside like a Styrofoam block.

“Remarkable,” the reporter said, astonished, temporarily losing her professional cool. “Absolutely remarkable. How did you find him?”

“Our helmets reveal spectral information,” Ilma’s emotionless, pale green eyes stared into the camera. “One of the many features Ymir will outline in their latest press package.”

“Correct. Our system will be available soon for law enforcement establishments.” President Wilson, head of Ymir, walked into frame.

“President Wilson! I didn’t realize you were here,” the reporter said, surprised.

“Once I learned of this tragedy, I insisted on attending to the matter myself. It sickens and angers me anyone would use my technology for such slaughter.” Anderson heard genuine anger in his voice. “We will bring this villain to justice.”

The president spoke more about his condolences to the families of the fallen officers and explained more about the Valkyrie System, particularly its anti-gravity technology. But Anderson turned off the screen, too preoccupied with what he’d heard.

“Strange, sir. They said nothing about that rooster monster or the girl you rescued,” Johnson said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Have you told anyone else about them?”

“No, sir. Should I keep it on the down-low? I can’t say I trust Ymir or their motives. This is dangerous technology for them to spring on the world. Their teleportation tech has been in press releases for months!”

“I agree. I don’t appreciate that they’ve made a private army without telling anyone. We should keep quiet for now.”

Anderson wanted to know why Ymir was so interested in keeping Yareli a secret. He was curious about how they had released information on the Valkyrie and Angra Armlet but nothing about Yareli’s belt. Ymir kept too many secrets for his liking.

“You’ve been quiet,” Anderson said, turning his attention toward Yareli, who seemed distant behind her helmet.

“Ymir is a legitimate company. I find it interesting you’re siding with me against them.” 

“Perhaps, but I don’t trust Ymir either. Lie low with the old man. I’ll see what I can uncover. No funny business. Got it? Or I’ll turn you in.”

As he figured it, Yareli was his best link to Ymir’s darker side. Besides, a hunch told him they might need Yareli’s strange belt later. It could be their only chance against Ymir and Vagh.

“I’m really skipping around the rules. I hope this doesn’t ruin my career,” Anderson thought. The sight of those slain police officers hardened his resolve. He feared Niflhel’s rampage was only the beginning.

---

“Selim, are you okay?” a nervous Haken asked as his boss stumbled into the alleyway. His body morphed, returning to its original form.

“You made it to the rendezvous—good. Those flying bitches appeared from nowhere. Swarmed me before I could fight back.”

They’d fought with impressive coordination. While each blow had only stung, their combined effort had overwhelmed him. Alone, he hadn’t stood a chance.

“Stupid.” Selim had allowed himself to get drunk on his own power. He’d never dreamed Ymir had the capability of defeating him. Worse, the police had apprehended several of his men. A mistake he had every intention of correcting.

“Here.” Haken’s massive form helped him through an open door. Kevin drove, watchful for any danger. In the distance, he heard police sirens, no doubt searching every street for him. They needed to get clear—fast.

Kevin merged into a busy street, trying to blend in while Haken treated Selim’s wounds. It seemed unlikely the other Niflhel had escaped. He cursed again, and not from the stinging cleaning alcohol. While he’d killed a cop before, this massacre would ensure they had nowhere to hide. Cops protected their own. They would hunt Niflhel to the ends of the earth.

“I’ve screwed up royally,” Selim said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“We’ll survive somehow. We always do,” Haken replied, his voice gentle and reassuring.

“Right, you have that armlet thing!” Kevin added. “Alone, you’re almost unstoppable. It’s got to count for something!”

“Yes.” Gears turned in the Niflhel leader’s head. “Haken, can you contact Chris? It’s urgent.”

“Shouldn’t be hard. Why? I doubt guns will be much help against those winged women.”

“True, but Chris has resources.” A nasty smile formed on Selim’s face. “Tell me, is it possible to duplicate the armlet?”

The hacker pondered the question, not answering until he had a satisfactory conclusion.

“The technology seems straightforward enough, but replicating it will take time.”

“Ymir has underestimated us. We will paint the streets red with their blood!”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 6

“You requested to see me, sir?” Ilma asked, offering her commander a salute. While a strange way to address someone technically both a civilian and her father, she considered it appropriate. As usual, her father’s office was tidy and spotless, without a single paper out of place. Each book on the multiple bookshelves as alphabetized by author, each on a wide variety of subjects, from astrophysics to flower arranging, anything that caught her father’s attention.  Except for a single photograph of her, his office contained nothing else extraneous, limited to what was essential for his work.

Halvorsen nodded. “We have a serious matter to discuss. I need the Valkyries to eliminate someone. President Wilson can’t learn of this.”

“Understood, the target?”

While the Valkyries were part of Ymir’s special forces, their loyalty always extended to her father first. Each girl owed their existence to him. Halvorsen produced a photo. It displayed blurry security camera footage of a woman wearing a biker suit with a wolf painted on the helmet. Hints of colors were dotted across its surface like scattered raindrops. Paint stains?

“Who is she?”

“A person of interest who’s been interfering with Ymir’s operations. Calls herself Fenrir. She stole the prototype Ragnadriver. I want the prototype recovered and Fenrir removed without a trace. It would be inconvenient if Ymir’s other operatives captured her first.”

“Consider it done.” The fact they didn’t have Fenrir’s face was troublesome, but they’d manage.

“One last thing.” Her father held out a second photograph.

“Huh?” Ilma blinked in surprise at the image. Words spilled out of her mouth, so startled by the impossible sight in the picture. It showed another shot of the same biking suit clad girl, except her helmet was off. “Her head is a skull?” She stared at the black sockets where Yareli’s eyes should be.

“Fenrir is an anomaly.” Halvorsen stood up and paced, a common habit when he was agitated. “Likely not even human. I don’t want Ymir studying her. Do you understand?”

It took several seconds to drag her eyes away from the photo, but Ilma nodded. While the entire situation was bizarre and raised many questions, she’d perform her duty. The questions were inconsequential compared to that.

“Yes, sir. Consider this Fenrir eliminated.”

---

Johan blinked his eyes awake and started, unsure where he was. It took him a second to recognize the unfamiliar place, and the previous day’s events flooded his mind. He’d almost died again, hadn’t he? Twice in two days. It seemed the universe was keen to remind him how powerless he was.

Beside him, Samuel was stretched out on his cot, fast asleep. A blanket covered Rebecca as she slept on the floor, her computer still flashing with light beside her. The clock read almost four in the morning. From the snoring in a nearby room, it seemed clear everyone was asleep.

Perfect. I can complete my mission. At least here, he wasn’t useless. Guilt burned a horrible pit in Johan’s stomach. Gramps and Yareli had shown total, open kindness, and he was backstabbing them for the Jotnar’s personal gain.

No, it’s only a tiny white lie. We’re still friends. Or at least, that’s what Johan told himself.

After adjusting to the dim light, he crept over to Gramps’ old computer, hitting the power button. He used his jacket to block the light as its screen flashed to life. Johan had noticed earlier the older man hadn’t password-protected his computer.

The desktop displayed a photo of a younger Gramps standing alongside a pair Johan presumed was his family. Was that his daughter and grandson? The trio was playing in a park, passing a ball to one another. Johan quickly opened a tab to block the view, sickened by his voyeurism of someone’s personal life. He opened various folders, giving each a cursory glance before continuing on. Most were family photos, which Johan avoided like the plague, but others were about various tidbits he’d gathered about Ymir. It seemed he was serious about helping Yareli uncover her past.

“Found it.” Johan opened the files on the Ragnadriver. The text files contained complicated technical knowledge beyond his understanding. He withdrew a USB stick from his pocket and copied the files onto it. After taking the appropriate files, he returned Gramps’ desktop to the previous state he’d found it. The ease of his theft dismayed him. The older man hadn’t even locked his computer with strangers about.

And the next objective would prove more challenging. Their employer also wanted data from the Ragnadriver. It used a special operating system, capable of reprogramming itself to better suit its user. Simensen had insisted the other files would be useless without retrieving this data.

After a cursory glance, he concluded the Ragnadriver wasn’t in Gramps’ lab. Yareli must keep it close. He crept through the shop, searching for the girl’s room. Much to Johan’s surprise, light illuminated Yareli’s room, and he heard movement behind it. Was she still awake? He placed a gentle knock against the door.

“Come in.”

Garish paintings caught Johan’s eye as he entered, their variety of vibrant colors hurting his eyes after leaving the almost pitch-black corridor. While Yareli still wore her biker outfit, a pink paint-stained apron covered it. It seemed incongruous with the tough biker girl he knew. 

“Looking for the bathroom?” Yareli asked, not turning her attention away from her painting.

“No, I had trouble sleeping and noticed the light. Have you been painting all night?”

“It’s my favorite thing to do when I’m not riding.”

Johan found the courage to ask a question he’d been dreading. “Don’t you sleep?”

Yareli’s paintbrush paused mid-stroke, pain evident in her voice. “I don’t.”

“Oh.” Dear God, he couldn’t even imagine that existence. Gramps was an old man and couldn’t stay awake forever, which meant that Yareli usually spent most of her time alone.

“I’m used to it,” Yareli said with forced cheerfulness, resuming her painting. “It provides me plenty of opportunities to paint!”

“What are you working on, anyway?” Johan asked, eager to change the subject. He scrunched up his brow when he saw the canvas Yareli was working on. What the hell was he looking at?

“Art is more than painted bowls of fruit,” she replied a bit defensively when she caught his expression. “Taste is subjective.” With a sniff, Yareli resumed her painting. She picked a red color and added blotches to something that might have been a tree if you squinted really hard.

Someone’s touchy. Confident Yareli wasn’t paying attention to him, Johan searched for his objective. He brightened when he spotted the Ragnadriver poking from a duffle bag.

“Why did you start painting, if you don’t mind me asking?” Johan asked, slipping the USB stick under his sleeve.

“Dunno, a feeling,” Yareli replied, too distracted by her painting to catch Johan’s suspicious movements. “Gramps was watching an old public access painting show, and it caught my interest. He suggested I try it. It’s been a passion ever since.”

As Yareli explained her story, he placed his back toward the bag. He slipped the USB stick into a tiny slot on the Ragnadriver’s head. A light on the stick flashed as it copied data.

“You’ve painted so many. It must’ve cost Gramps a fortune.”

“He doesn’t mind. I help around the shop. It isn’t like I need money — I don’t eat.”

“I suppose so.” The light on the USB stick stopped flashing. Johan returned the device to his pocket.

“Besides, Gramps always says a person should pursue their passions, talented or not.” Yareli’s brush stopped mid-stroke, and she placed it down. “I should show you my first painting. Gramps displays it in the shop’s lobby. It’s embarrassing, but the old man’s proud of it.”

“Sure.” Johan’s stomach flipped several times, tasting bile. Yareli was sharing her heart, and he was stealing from her.

“Are you okay?” Yareli asked in concern.

“I’m okay. Maybe later. I need to lie down.”

“Sure. See you in the morning.”

Somehow, Johan left Yareli without losing his lunch. His hand shook as he dialed Simensen’s number.

“It’s me. I have it. Okay, see you soon.” Johan rested against a wall. He wanted to get rid of this USB stick as soon as possible. At least the worst was over. He swore he’d make up for his transgressions.

What present might I give a skeleton person who doesn’t sleep?

---

“Thank you. Your assistance has been most helpful.” Despite the early hour, Simensen looked refreshed, without a single hair out of place.

“Whatever, just give me the money,” Johan replied, in no mood for pleasantries. A blurry-eyed Samuel stood behind them. Neither Jotnar trusted their so-called benefactor, so they’d come prepared, just in case.

Simensen’s bodyguard retrieved the USB stick and handed Johan an envelope of cash. His eyes bulged. He’d never seen such an enormous amount of money in one place.

The Ophion president chuckled when he caught Johan’s expression. “I always treat the people under my employ well. Consider it a bonus for a job excellently performed.”

“Thank you.” Johan slipped the envelope into his coat pocket.

“I’ll need your assistance in the days ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Samuel asked, eyes brimming with suspicion.

Simensen’s usual jovial manner vanished. “I’ve heard rumors that Ymir is pushing ahead with some huge project named ‘Surtur.’ See what you can uncover.”

“Thanks for the info.” He’s being too helpful.

“I don’t believe I’m exaggerating, young man, when I say the fate of the world might count on your actions.”

“Fate of the world? Right, sure,” Johan thought, rolling his eyes. Still, it gave Rebecca a good lead in their trip to Skoll tonight. He only hoped the place wasn’t crawling with Ymir’s monsters.

“Good luck.”

---

A bell tinkled as Anderson entered the shop, passing a sign bragging that Davidson could fix anything for affordable prices. Various complex machinery stood on display, their guts visible. The owner even had spare parts for sale, many almost older than him. While everything seemed ordinary, rumor said that Davidson had someone in his employ who always wore a helmet. She performed odd jobs and deliveries, using the same type of bike seen fleeing the crime scene downtown. What a coincidence.

Moments passed as he waited behind the front counter. The cash register looked ancient. Anderson hadn’t seen one of these things since childhood. Wouldn’t it be simpler to use an automated register with an advanced AI? Still, he respected the old man’s dedication to the past. A tiny bell sat on the counter. He rang it, trying to get the proprietor’s attention.

“Davidson is in his eighties. There’s no need to rush him,” Anderson thought.

Ymir continued to be unhelpful, giving vague answers to the police’s inquiries. Their president claimed Ymir had no clue why Visscher had visited an abandoned parking lot in the middle of the night, or why a street gang attacked him and his entourage. Thankfully, his partner had uncovered a solid lead on the Niflhel hideout. With his assembled SWAT team, they should apprehend the hooligans within the hour.

A splash of color caught his attention, and Anderson blinked. The bizarre painting didn’t fit the rest of the shop’s interior. Anderson tilted his head, trying to understand its meaning. Did the artist have a seizure during its creation?

“May I help you, young man?” Anderson turned to discover Paul Davidson standing behind the counter.

Anderson pulled out his badge. “Detective Anderson. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions.”

Davidson’s brow scrunched up in confusion. “Sure, but I doubt I’ll be any help.”

“I’m told you have an assistant who helps you around the shop. Is this true?” Anderson studied the older man closely, searching for any sign of deceit. Not that it would help Davidson. Anderson had seen Racer Wolf’s motorcycle out back.

“Yes.” The old man sounded cautious. “Is there a problem?”

“I was hoping to meet her. Is she around? Not out making deliveries, I hope.”

After a hesitant nod, Davidson gave a shout through the back door. “Yareli!”

“Yes?” a young lady replied.

“Um, someone’s here to see you.”

Anderson raised an eyebrow as a woman dressed in a biker outfit walked into the store proper. A helmet hid her face, a black visor where her eyes should be.

“Yareli?” Anderson had already checked the records. There wasn’t any sign that anyone besides Davidson worked at this repair shop. That meant this young woman was an illegal worker. Truthfully, it wasn’t an uncommon practice, and the punishment for such a transgression was minor. Not that Anderson cared. He was here for a murder investigation.

“She’s a distant cousin,” Davidson said. “Come to work at her dear uncle’s repair shop.”

An awkward silence passed as Anderson waited for the young woman to identify herself. From her body language, she was nervous. Perfect. The detective frowned. He couldn’t place what it was, but he detected a subtle wrongness about Racer Wolf.

“That’s me.” Yareli’s voice was quiet.

“So, are you going to remove that helmet?” Anderson asked.

“I’d rather not. I’m not very attractive. I have terrible scars.”

“It doesn’t bother me. I can’t talk to you if you don’t show your face,” Anderson replied, annoyed. According to the rumors, no one had ever seen Racer Wolf’s face.

Yet, the young woman refused to comply, shaking her head no. “Is it illegal to wear a helmet indoors?”

“She’s very self-conscious about her appearance,” Davidson said, rushing to his ward’s defense.

Anderson’s frown deepened, detecting that the older man wasn’t lying. Yareli genuinely feared showing her face. After some consideration, he dropped the issue. The scar explanation might actually be true. Besides, he didn’t want any hassle from the higher-ups about mistreating suspects.

“That’s fine.” The biker girl visibly relaxed when he dropped the issue. Anderson pulled out his notebook, addressing his notes. “May I ask where you were last night at 17:00?”

“Out riding, as usual,” Yareli replied.

Anderson raised a skeptical eyebrow. “A young lady like yourself out at night alone? That’s more than reckless.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Right. Riding where, specifically?”

“Not sure. Somewhere downtown.”

“Last evening, a shooting happened in a parking lot on Rugdeveien. I was curious if you saw anything.”

Yareli paused for several moments before replying. “I heard gunshots. It sounded like a gang fight. I kept my distance for obvious reasons.”

At least it confirmed she was around the crime scene. Anderson didn’t suspect Yareli of any wrongdoing. It was almost undeniable that the Niflhel were behind Visscher and his men’s deaths. Yet, Anderson sensed the biker girl was hiding something. The problem was determining whether it had any connection to the case.

“Did you see anything unusual?”

“Unusual?”

“Oddities. Did you witness anything strange?”

Yareli stayed silent for several long moments, mulling the question over. “Well…”

In his pocket, Anderson’s phone buzzed, and he cursed. He’d almost pressed Yareli into saying something. Whatever she intended to say died on her lips, her mouth clamping shut.

“What is it?” Anderson snapped, annoyed. He’d told his partner not to disturb him unless it was an emergency.

“Thank God you’re there!” Johnson’s voice sounded panicked, bordering on hysteria.

His irritation vanished. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Johnson muttered to himself. “So much blood.”

“Victor, what’s going on?” Anderson put authority in his voice, trying to calm his partner down.

“The SWAT team assaulted the Niflhel hideout as you instructed, but… Oh my God.” Johnson released a breath, regaining his composure. “Their leader, Selim Vagh, pulled out some strange armband. He transformed into a monster. Bill and his team didn’t stand a chance. Nothing seems to hurt him.”

“He transformed into a monster?” The spider monster was real? What the hell was going on?

Anderson caught Davidson and Yareli exchanging glances. The biker girl leaned in, trying to hear their conversation. They knew something — but that wasn’t his immediate concern.

“He’s rampaging right now, fighting with the local officers. At least four have been killed already.”

“Oh God.” Anderson rubbed the bridge of his nose. Had the world gone insane? Much to his shock, Yareli grabbed the phone from his hand.

“Where are you?” the girl asked.

“Huh? Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. Where are you? It’s important.”

“Granstubben. By the old mill factory.”

Without another word, Yareli returned Anderson’s phone and charged into a back room. While he couldn’t see her expression, he detected determination in her step.

“Wait a moment. Where are you going, young lady?” Anderson said, alarmed.

Yareli ignored him, grabbing a duffle bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Before Anderson could stop her, she exited through a back door and mounted her motorcycle, revving its engine.

“Good luck,” a worried Davidson said. Yareli nodded in response and rode off.

“That stupid!” Anderson rushed toward his car, determined to stop Yareli before she did something she’d regret.

---

“That Selim,” she thought. What was he thinking, rampaging like that? Now the cops knew about the armbands. Worse, they suspected her. Whatever. She’d deal with the authorities later. Stopping the Niflhel leader’s bloodbath came first.

Thankfully, Yareli knew downtown Bifrost like the back of her skeletal hand, taking several shortcuts. The sound of gunfire intensified as she approached her destination. It sounded like a heated battle — one the cops couldn’t win. She attached her Ragnadriver to her waist as she rode through an alley.

“Henshin!” As she exited the alley, Yareli’s armor formed around her. She increased her speed, zipping through another alleyway. Cops yelped in surprise, hollering in protest as a masked figure rode past their cordon and entered the factory’s parking lot.

A flash of white caught her attention — Selim was battling some frightened cops through a window. Before she could rush to their rescue, Yareli’s bike skidded to a halt as a figure blocked her path, stopping centimeters from being struck.

“Are you crazy? You could get hurt!” Yareli froze, recognizing the man with a familiar armband attached to his right arm.

Mark Wilson, president of Ymir, studied her for several moments before speaking. “Incredible. The Ragnadriver has adapted to your strange physiognomy perfectly. Whatever you are, you’ve become the perfect killing machine.”

“Why did you create the Ragnadriver? What are you after?” If Wilson was kind enough to present himself, she’d get answers.

“It was my hand which built this.” Wilson gestured toward the bustling city. The skylight gave them an excellent view. “I brought prosperity to this once-empty piece of sea. But it isn’t enough. Despite Bifrost’s technological marvels, many people still live in squalor and poverty. I will reforge this world, rebuilding it to create a better, brighter future. And you can help me. We need not be enemies. You can help me fulfill my dream.”

“Fat chance.” Was that his plan — creating peace with force? Yareli wanted no part of it. People deserved to be free.

“I feared as much.” Wilson withdrew an Uhyre Key from his suit pocket. It bore the symbol of a rooster. “Terrorize.”

The president’s face extended, growing a beak with intense, beady eyes. They shone with predatory intelligence. Bloody red feathers and wings formed around his arms, the feathers tipped with razor-sharp edges. The skin around his hands hardened, becoming a sickly yellow as his fingers sharpened into talons.

“I can’t allow you to interfere with my plans, Fenrir. I’m taking back what’s mine.” Sparks flew from Yareli’s armor as a sudden slash tossed her clear off her bike.

She recovered midair, switching her weapon to gun mode. Gravel scattered as she landed. Before she could even raise it, her opponent vanished before her eyes. Sparks flew as he struck her blind spot, ducking as she fired back. 

“This form suits me better than I ever expected.” Wilson flexed his talons experimentally. “Shame we can’t fight longer, but time is against us.” Several cops ran into the parking lot, their mouths agape in shock.

In a flash, Wilson appeared before her. Instead of swiping, the rooster monster opened his mouth wide. Yareli flew through a nearby abandoned storage unit as the sonic wave struck her, her body denting a support beam. The entire building lost structural integrity, collapsing upon her.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 5

“For a limited time, you can receive a 30 percent rebate on a new Ymir Smart Car,” Reine, Ymir’s premiere idol, stood behind a vehicle resembling an old style Beetle. They’d returned in fashion in the last five years. “This cute little minivan offers every feature a family might want, providing comfort and practicality.” The screen zapped off when Gramps noticed someone entering through the back door.

“Oh, you’re back! And you’ve brought friends!” The older man brightened as Yareli entered the backroom. The Jotnar nervously followed behind her, still rattled after their violent encounter with Ymir’s goons. Yareli couldn’t blame them. After almost gotten shot to pieces by that maniac Selim, anyone would be shell-shocked.

Still, the incident raised some uncomfortable questions about her nature. Human bones weren’t bulletproof — but the bullets hadn’t even scratched her. It only fueled her determination to uncover her past.

Gramps’ face became grave after catching their expressions. “Sit over here. You’ve clearly had a trying day. Would you like something to drink? My name is Paul, but everyone calls me Gramps. I’m happy to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah.” Johan numbly nodded, accepting the offered cup of coffee. His friends did likewise, glad to be somewhere safe.

Jotnar’s face contorted as the black liquid touched his lips, and he coughed. Rebecca suffered a similar reaction. “So sweet! How much sugar did you use?”

“Eight cubes,” Gramps replied.

“Are you aiming to kill us with diabetes?” Rebecca gagged, almost cracking the cup when she slammed it onto the table.

“You’re crazy. This is good.” Samuel sipped at his coffee, breaking into an appreciative smile.

Braving another taste, Johan recoiled and set down his cup. While disappointed, Gramps accepted the refusal with his usual grace. He happily refilled Samuel’s cup when asked.

“Now that everyone’s settled, you can explain what happened.” Gramps’ worry deepened upon noticing the gashes and bullet hole in Yareli’s biker suit, revealing patches of her skeleton.

“The situation’s gotten more complicated. Disastrously so.” Yareli shuddered, imagining what misdeeds the Niflhel might enact with Ymir’s armbands.

Gramps listened as Yareli explained what happened at Ymir’s safe house, staying quiet until she finished the entire story. The older man’s expression became thoughtful.

“And you say this Selim character became more powerful when he used the Spider Uhyre Key?” Gramps asked.

Yareli nodded. “He harnessed a power that Eirik guy couldn’t.”

“I might have an explanation.” Gramps hobbled toward his computer, pulling up a file. The Jotnar and Yareli watched the screen with interest. It displayed videos of various test subjects attempting to use the Ragnadriver. They watched as one writhed and bucked like a wild bull until he fell still — deathly still. Another lost their mind, attacking whoever was in their path. One just died without any fanfare.

“Every other wielder before Yareli failed. Uhyre Keys aren’t like a car, where anyone can use them. The keys require a certain amount of synchronization with their user to bring out their strength.”

“And Selim is compatible with the Spider Key?” Johan said, making a face.

“His form was different, too,” Rebecca added. “It gives the theory some credence.”

Johan considered his new friend. “Why do you have an Uhyre Key anyway, Yareli? Did you steal it from Ymir?”

Yareli shifted uncomfortably. “Beats me.”

“What do you mean?” Samuel asked, a bit more forcefully. “What even are you, anyway? Some Ymir experiment on the loose?”

“Yeah, what’s your deal?” Johan got into Yareli’s face.

“Hold it! Give the lady some space!” Rebecca pushed the two boys away, much to Yareli’s relief. “She can’t answer you if you’re crowding her.”

Yareli gave the girl an appreciative nod before steeling herself and giving the answer. “I genuinely don’t know. Gramps found me gripping it when he discovered me. I remember nothing before that point.”

“You have amnesia?” Johan asked in utter amazement. Yareli gave him a solemn nod.

“Gave me quite the fright when I discovered her washed up by a sewer drain along the beach. And that was before her body started moving.” Gramps laughed, and Yareli joined him in his merriment. He’d screamed like a little girl when the supposed dead body rose from the ground, confused and lost.

“This pendant — or Uhyre Key, rather — is the only hint to my past.” Yareli held up her key. “When Gramps examined the device, he found Ymir’s logo etched on the back.”

“How strange. And it just happens to be perfectly compatible with you?” Rebecca raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I can’t explain it either.” Yareli sighed in frustration. Not having a past tormented her. She didn’t even have a real name. Yareli was only a name Gramps had given her.

“I realize it’s frustrating, but we’re closer than when we first started,” Despite not having a face to expression anything, Gramps always seemed to understand her moods.

“We’ll find some answers.” Johan put a comforting hand on Yareli’s shoulder. She flinched back, not used to physical contact. After realizing this faux pas, he shifted awkwardly but stayed firm.

“No, you’re going back home. Getting involved is too dangerous.” After almost getting shot to death, Johan still wanted to fight against Ymir? Insanity.

“We owe Ymir some payback!” Samuel’s voice held no room for argument.

“Don’t worry, we’ll watch your back.” Rebecca gave a thumbs-up. “You’ll accomplish more together than fighting alone.”

Gramps chuckled. “It seems they’ve outvoted you.”

“No! This is a terrible idea!” Their boss’s grisly fate flashed back into her head.

“This Selim rascal has an Uhyre Key, right? Won’t the Jotnar be invaluable in tracking the scoundrel down and stopping him? They’re more knowledgeable about the local areas and gangs than we are,” Gramps said.

Had everyone gone crazy? Despite her misgivings, Yareli gave a reluctant nod. “I suppose they can help. What’s our next step?” She ignored the smug, satisfied expressions the Jotnar made when they realized they’d won the argument.

“Actually, I have some ideas.” Rebecca opened her laptop and tapped some keys. “I found an interesting clue worth investigating.”

“Impressive gadget you’ve got there.” Gramps gave an appreciative whistle. “Must have cost you an arm and a leg.”

“That computer must cost several thousand euros.” Yareli examined it closer. It was a top-of-the-line Ymir model, modified to improve its already impressive specs. Johan and Samuel goggled in wide-eyed amazement. How had they been so unaware of the quality of their friend’s equipment?

Rebecca only shrugged and pulled up an energy bill. The cost made Yareli whistle. “What’s this?”

“I’ve been snooping around Ymir’s various holdings and subsidiaries. This company, Skoll Enterprises, has been drawing a suspicious amount of electricity. They only manufacture computer parts. There’s no reason they require this much power.”

“Another secret lab?” Johan asked.

“Possible. All of Ymir’s other activities appear legitimate,” Rebecca said. “We could break into that secret lab again, but I doubt Ymir will make it so easy this time.”

“It’s worth trying. But we can’t ignore the Niflhel either.” Yareli turned to Johan. She sensed he shared some history with the gang leader. “What will Selim do with his newfound power?”

“Probably subdue the other gangs,” Johan grimaced. “He’s always been ambitious. It’s always been unclear where he’d fall in any situation.”

“Should we hunt Selim or check out Skoll first?” Rebecca asked.

“I suspect Selim will stay low for now,” Samuel said. “He’ll know Ymir will chase after him too. He might be powerful, but multiple enemies will be a problem.”

“I say we investigate Skoll. We’ll deal with Selim when he becomes a problem.” While it made Yareli feel ashamed that she was putting her past over the possibility that the Niflhel might hurt someone, she couldn’t help herself. Like a bloodhound dog chasing a scene, she refused to give up a trail when she found it.

Rebecca nodded her agreement. “Let Ymir worry about Selim. It’ll keep them distracted while we strike Skoll.”

“When will we strike? I hope it’s not tonight,” Johan said.

“No, we’ll do it tomorrow night,” Gramps said. “It will provide us time to gather more information about Skoll. Do you want me to call your parents for a ride home?”

“Don’t worry about that. None of us have parents.” Despite Samuel’s flippant tone, she detected a hint of a lie. “We can sleep here. Best not go outside with Ymir searching for us. They likely already know about our old base.” 

“I have some old cots you can use.” Gramps rose shakily to his feet.

“Get some rest.” Rebecca fixed her attention back to her laptop. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.” Unlike her friends, she appeared energetic, eager to get to work and steal Ymir’s secrets. Yareli doubted she’d get any sleep tonight.

Johan released an exhausted sigh, falling into a deep sleep as he leaned back against the couch. Samuel yawned, drinking another cup of Gramps’ super-sweet coffee. He watched his friend work on her computer, not ready to get any sleep either.

If Yareli had lips, she’d be smiling. What a strange group she’d fallen into. Despite her misgivings, she was already enjoying their company. Besides Gramps, she’d never really had friends before. It filled a hole she’d never realized was empty.

“And Ymir is chasing after them too.” Her mood turned dark. After some consideration, she realized the wisdom of keeping the Jotnar close. Ymir wouldn’t hesitate to make them disappear. Yareli swore if Ymir touched a hair on any of them, they’d regret it.

---

Detective Anderson winced as he pressed an ice pack against his head, ambling over to the crime scene. Its chill somewhat abated his throbbing head. The boys had done an excellent job taping up the crime scene, officers crawling around everywhere. Curious civilians hung around, pointing and muttering to themselves. Strange, considering gunfights weren’t uncommon in Bifrost.

“Bert, are you okay?” Sergeant Johnson said in concern. “You’re sporting a nasty bruise. Did you get into a brawl?”

His partner was a fresh face in the Bifrost Police Service, his suit immaculate and freshly laundered. Not quite wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, but close to it. Anderson considered himself too old to bother with such nonsense — though his wife, Lynn, gave him never-ending grief about the issue. The young man’s auburn hair whipped around in the bitter night air.

“Yes, with a table.” The aspirin Anderson had taken had barely abated the pain. “I was out with the wife when a drunk accidentally tripped me. Slammed right onto a table. Spilled everything on it over me.”

Johnson’s face lit with understanding, chuckling in amusement. “Explains the curious strains along your back.”

“Enough jokes,” Anderson replied, scowling. “What happened? You sounded strained on the phone.”

His partner’s smile vanished. “Come and see for yourself. It’s quite a sight.”

Almost immediately, his sharp eyes noticed the gunshot holes lining the walls near a stairwell door. Someone had used it as cover. From the holes’ size, high-caliber rounds had caused them. Higher than one would expect from some gangers. Blood stained the floor. Several outlines marked where multiple bodies had fallen. Strange — why was the garage door torn off its hinges?

“While interesting, that isn’t why I rushed you here.” His partner coughed, pointing deeper into the parking garage. Anderson dropped his ice pack in pure astonishment.

“I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” His fingers traced the claw marks dug into the cement floor.

“Did an elephant get loose in here?” Anderson gazed at the parking lot turned war zone, noting the odd cracks scattered across the cement floor. Was that solid ice attached to a wall? “What do we know?”

“There were seven bodies.” Johnson opened his notebook, reading the notes he’d jotted down.” Two we’ve identified as being part of the Niflhel gang.”

Anderson retrieved his ice pack, his face twisting into a scowl not caused by his head wound. The Niflhel was one of Bifrost’s most volatile gangs.

“These others were professional muscle hired by Ymir. All except one. The final one is a bit of a celebrity.”

Ymir? He didn’t like the multitude of questions this raised. “Who was it?”

“Arend Visscher. Each of the victims died of bullet wounds. Either they bled out or died instantly. It was a bloody gunfight.”

A sigh escaped Anderson’s lips as he rubbed his thinning hair in agitation. Another bad habit his wife enjoyed teasing him about. “What a mess. Has Ymir offered any statement or explanations yet?”

“They’ve been tight-lipped about the whole incident, sir. Any clues why Ymir would quarrel with a street gang in an abandoned parking lot? We’re still searching the building for more evidence.”

Ymir was a powerful corporate entity. Why would Niflhel fight with them? They must realize the consequences of such an action. “And this?” Anderson gestured to the surrounding chaos. “Bullets didn’t cause this.”

His partner fidgeted, wary about continuing. “Witnesses say they saw a spider monster leave with the Niflhel as they fled the crime scene.”

“A spider monster?!” He supposed that explained the claw marks, maybe? What the hell is going on? Ymir was a leading innovator in technology. Had they created homegrown monsters? What a ridiculous notion. The chief wouldn’t like this one bit. The throbbing in his head intensified threefold.

“How am I supposed to explain this?” An honest report would sound like the writing of a madman. He’d have to fudge the details. Perhaps he’d fail to mention the claw marks until he got better info.

“Whatever. Focus on finding the Niflhel for questioning.” Frankly, apprehending the troublesome gang was long since overdue. Anderson would relish putting those maniacs behind bars. “I’ll pressure Ymir into giving some sort of statement.”

“Sure.” His partner nodded in agreement, pleased to have a plan of action.

“Arrange a SWAT team to help apprehend them.” Despite not believing the crazy spider monster story, Anderson wasn’t taking any chances.

“Another thing, sir.” Johnson flipped through his notebook again. “The Niflhel weren’t the only ones caught fleeing the scene. While no one caught a good look at their faces, one notable person among them—the infamous Racer Wolf.” Anderson responded with a blank look.

“I suppose you don’t ride, do you? She’s a bit of a celebrity, known for her distinctive look and expert motorcycle riding. Always keeps to herself. No one knows who she is.”

“Great, more mysteries.” Somehow, his headache had worsened even further. “Find her too.”

“Not a problem. I have a contact that might help me locate her.”

“Good. Get to it.” Anderson’s gaze returned to the bizarre claw marks, deep furrows cut into the concrete. Something in his cop instincts gave him a bad feeling about this whole debacle.

---

“So, Visscher is dead?” While Wilson’s voice held no anger, the man who’d reported the ill news fidgeted.

Ymir’s president was beyond furious that such a simple operation had such a disastrous outcome. Dino would regret the day he was ever born. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to dispose of the man. His unique connection to his Uhyre key was worth studying. If Operation: Ragnarök was to succeed, he needed to understand the special bond between the Uhyre key and its user.

While he had members of the Bifrost Police Department on his payroll, a monster rampaging around the city would be difficult to cover up. People would ask questions. He needed to dispose of this gang right away.

“Is it ready?” Wilson asked Lauper when she entered his office. “Our time frame might be narrower than we expected.” If the authorities learned of Ragnarök’s true purpose, Ymir wouldn’t survive.

“Come see for yourself.” Lauper beamed, wearing a self-satisfied smile. She’d been the brainchild behind the project, spending almost ten years in its initial development.

Wind whooshed past his hair as the elevator descended deeper into the complex. Deep within the earth seemed a fitting place for the project. Wilson could never resist creating symbolism in his endeavors. It created a history that people resonated with.

“Sir? No one told me you were coming.” Valter Halvorsen, head researcher of the project, gave an elaborate bow that ruffled his shoulder-length, lion-like mane, vibrant red with a single white streak. Beneath his lab coat hid well-developed muscles, despite his middle years. Their new weapons required a powerful body, and Halvorsen always insisted on testing them himself.

Sweat trickled down Wilson’s neck as he approached the monstrously sized computer system. Unfortunately, its processing power required tremendous energy, producing copious amounts of heat despite their best efforts.

“Well, how far along is Project Surtur?” Wilson asked. “Lauper tells me it’s almost finished.”

“The calculations are difficult, but as you predicted, not impossible. In a couple of weeks, the firestorm shall begin.”

“Excellent.” The timetable was moving along smoothly. “How about the new Ragnadriver? You might be unaware, but someone stole the prototype.”

“I’ve heard about that. Some outside interloper?” Halvorsen began pacing before coming to a sudden stop. “Anyway, we’ll have the new belt completed in a week. Unlike the prototype, this one should be more malleable and less dangerous. But it will require a person with a powerful bond to their Uhyre key.”

“Speaking of Uhyre keys, have you heard any whiff of a Wolf key being in development?” Wilson gave his head scientist a hard stare. “We’ve still found no record of its production.”

Halvorsen rubbed the back of his neck before shrugging. Did he know something? Wilson scrutinized the man, but the scientist’s face was unreadable, as usual. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. Why? Has someone stumbled across it?”

“The thief who stole the belt could use it. Calls herself Fenrir.”

“Is that right?” Halvorsen stiffened, then watched his boss with immense curiosity. “And it worked easily with its user? No problems?”

“She didn’t even know the key’s purpose before she tried it.”

“She? Curious. I’ll do further investigations in my department. I’m busy, but I’ll find the time to investigate it further. We can’t allow anyone to interfere.”

“Do you have an extra Angra Armlet?”

“Sir?” Halvorsen tilted his head in puzzlement.

A cruel smile formed on Wilson’s face. “I want to deal with Fenrir personally.”

[jonathanvik]

Luyten V - Chapter 22

“Look out!” But Cecilia could only stare in frozen fright as Luyten V’s metal fist flew at her, her feet riveted to the ground. For whatever reason, her legs refused to move.

Only a timely tackle from Sandage saved her from getting squashed, the impact knocking the breath from her.

“Are you okay?” the LUVOLT agent asked, his face concerned.

“I think so,” Cecilia rasped out. She stared at the crater Luyten V’s fist had made, chunks of concrete falling like rain as it yanked it back. That’d been too close. Thankfully, everyone had scattered in time—if barely. They stared at Luyten V in shock.

“Deklu!” Prince Imrele yelled. “Do something!”

“I… I got this! One second!” the tech said, fiddling with his personal computer. This only earned Luyten V’s further ire, directing its fury at the hacker.

“Deklu!” Cecilia could only watch in horror as a foot connected with the Ectutai, sending the hapless tech flying. A toolbox crumpled under the impact, and ice stabbed into Cecilia’s heart when the alien didn’t rise.

Yet this didn’t satisfy Luyten V, who now directed its rage at the Ectutai prince instead. Prince Imrele scrambled in fright as it chased after him, ducking between some crates to make himself less of an open target. Cecilia tensed as Luyten V passed Petrus, but the robot ignored him, heading toward the alien prince instead.

“Huh?” Why had it done that? Why not go after the easy target?

“The Luyten V detects that the Ectutai aren’t human!” Macauley yelled over the turmoil. “It must assume they are invaders too!”

“I can’t help but notice you’re an alien too, Macauley,” Cecilia said dryly. Her mind raced for some way to save Prince Imrele. If the alien prince got hurt, she doubted the Kristra Republic would look fondly on Earth. Somehow they had to get the Luyten V to recognize Rose. She came to a decision.

“Petrus, we have to show Luyten V Rose!” Cecilia said.

“Huh?” the big man replied. “Will that even work? Without her brainwaves, can it even recognize her?”

“There’s no time to argue!” Cecilia shot back.

“It’s our best chance,” Sandage said, rushing over to them. “Macauley?”

“It’s worth a try,” the vTuber said after some thought. “Hurry—let’s get the Luyten V’s attention.”

“This way!” With a moment’s hesitation, Cecilia pushed Petrus’s laptop into Sandage’s arms and rushed in Luyten V’s direction.

“Hey, leave this to us!” Sandage shouted, but he’d been too slow to stop her. “Foolish girl. What are you waiting for, Petrus? After her!”

“Okay. Sure, let’s rush into danger!” the scientist huffed as he chased after her.

“Luyten V! Hey!” Cecilia waved her arms as she ran, but the robot didn’t hear her. Instead, it focused its attention on crushing the alien prince. Her heart skipped a beat as Prince Imrele barely rolled out of the way of a stomp from its boot. “I’m almost there, Prince Imrele. Just hold on!”

“How are we even going to stop this thing!?” The usually composed prince sounded terrified, backing away as Luyten V continued its relentless assault. Then the worst happened.

In his attempt to flee, the prince tripped over some fallen tools and sprawled on the floor. Luyten V used this chance to lift a boot weighing hundreds of tons and stomp it down on the alien prince’s back. Metal squealed as his suit bent under the strain.

“Please! No! Don’t do this!” Cecilia cried, rushing into Luyten V’s view. “He’s a friend!”

But the Luyten V continued to ignore her, crushing Prince Imrele harder. Cecilia’s heart leapt with hope as Petrus approached with Rose perched on his back.

“Look, see! It’s Rose!” Cecilia picked up one of Rose’s arms and swung it wildly. Still getting no response, Cecilia did something desperate. She grabbed Rose and tossed her toward Luyten V’s foot.

“What are you doing?!” Petrus said, alarmed as his once-charge rolled on the ground. She stopped inches from Luyten V’s toe. Cecilia rushed over and grabbed Rose’s head, presenting it toward the robot.

“Please! If you don’t stop, I’ll make you crush Rose too!” Cecilia said. There was just enough space for Rose’s slight form to fit. This wasn’t an idle threat.

To Cecilia’s relief, the robot stopped, and its red, too-human eyes stared into Rose’s. Then it pulled its foot away and fell to one knee. Its chest opened to reveal its cockpit, ready to accept its pilot. Whatever intelligence existed inside Luyten V had recognized Rose.

“I didn’t think that would work!” Cecilia said, heart still thumping.

“That was stupid, Cecilia,” Sandage said, his tone chastising.

“Sorry,” Cecilia said sheepishly. “I had to try something.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Sandage said, rushing to the fallen Ectutai prince. “Prince Imrele, are you still alive?”

“Just about.” There was a hiss andsteam erupted from the prince’s suit. A terrible wheezing sound echoed through the hanger as the suit struggled to open. An alien curse escaped the suit’s loudspeaker, and a pounding could be heard inside the suit. The prince must be trying to force it open from the inside. Finally, the suit’s hatch gave way and opened up.

“It ruined my royal armor, though.” The prince said. Cecilia gasped at the figure that emerged.

“So cute!” Cecilia couldn’t help herself. This wasn’t what she’d expected.

Instead of a hulking giant, as she had imagined, the Ectutai stood barely taller than Rose. He appeared more like a preteen human than anything, though his skin was a tomato-ish red, and two curling horns poked out from his dirty brown locks like goat horns.

“How old are you?” Cecilia asked, marveling.

“Old enough,” Prince Imrele replied with as much dignity as he could muster. Cecilia guessed he was around her age. Was every one of his race this small?

“I’m glad to see you safe, Your Majesty,” Sandage’s face scrunched as he fought back laughter. He hadn’t expected this, either. “Are you unharmed?”

“Yes, thankfully my suit took the strain,” Prince Imrele replied. “I wasn’t expecting that. Some defensive mechanism?”

“I’m afraid so. I hope your man is okay too,” Sandage said, flinching.

“Yes, I’m fine,” the Ectutai tech said, limping over. While dented and warped, his suit seemed otherwise intact.

“Don’t worry,” Prince Imrele said with a slight smile. “These kinds of things happen. I’m pleased no one got hurt.” He flinched as the building suddenly shook. “We better hurry. Can Rose even pilot this contraption in her condition?”

“We’re hoping it will help her,” Petrus said, retrieving Rose from the floor. “Ready, Macauley?”

“The process isn’t that complicated. The rest is up to Rose herself,” Macauley said.

“I hope so.” Despite herself, Cecilia still worried. What if the infection had spread too far through Rose’s system?

“Upsy-daisy,” Petrus said, carefully placing Rose inside the cockpit. As Macauley announced a set of instructions, the scientist programmed them in. Before he completed the action, he toppled over and struck the ground hard as the building rocked. Rose fell with him, rolling over him before coming to a halt.

“Are you okay, Mr. Naboth?” Cecilia asked, running over.

“Yeah,” the big man winced, dragging himself back to his feet with some effort. He’d taken a nasty tumble. “I’m too old for this.”

“That was a bad hit.” Sandage opened his phone and dialed a number. “Report.”

Over the speakerphone, Cecilia heard the sounds of battle. Through the explosions and screaming, she had trouble identifying what was happening.

A clear voice broke through the tumult. “It’s terrible, sir. The Ectutai—they weren’t a match for those monsters at all.”

“No!” Prince Imrele said, alarmed.

“They’re all destroyed. And one of the Altair is heading toward the hangar bay. It’ll be there in moments.”

“Not good.” The building shook again, and the shriek of tearing metal echoed through the air. Cecilia gasped as a chainsaw-like claw ripped through the hangar’s roof like thick metal was tinfoil. Her heart stopped as a giant face stared down at them through the hole. It wasn’t like any Altair face she’d seen before—misshapen somehow, like the creature had melted. Scales covered its skin haphazardly, like some demented dragon.

“Found you,” the monster’s eyes gleamed with open malice. It opened its maw wide, energy gathering within it.

“Is it going to blast us to pieces?” Some Altair could shoot lasers? This wasn’t fair! She grunted as Sandage pushed her over, using his body as a human shield.

“Sandage!” Tears pricked Cecilia’s eyes. Was this it?

But Luyten V saw the threat, a fist slamming into the monster’s twisted face. The beam went wide, sweat poured from Cecilia’s pores as the heat of it passed over her. She gasped at the destruction it caused, leveling a good portion of the LUVOLT complex. She hoped the others were okay.

“Impossible! You don’t have a pilot. How are you moving on your own?” the monster said, eyes wide in shock as it stared at Luyten V’s open cockpit.

“Are you okay?” Sandage asked, pulling her to her feet.

“Yeah,” Cecilia said, giving a shaky nod.

“The heck with this!” Petrus held Rose in a fireman’s carry and darted inside Luyten V’s cockpit. With a hiss, it closed shut.

“What are you doing?” Cecilia said, alarmed. If Petrus activated Full Synchronization Mode inside the Luyten V, it’d likely kill him.

“Macauley, what’s the final sequence?” Petrus said from Luyten V’s speakers.

“You’re a brave man, Petrus,” Macauley said, then rattled a series of buttons.

“Ah, got it,” Petrus replied. “Don’t worry about me. I have a son.”

“Huh?” Cecilia blinked.

“He hates me. I was a terrible father. I should’ve done better. Hasn’t talked to me in years,” Petrus said. “But I don’t care. As long as he’s safe, that’s fine with me. I’ll do whatever it takes so that he lives!”

“Petrus!” Cecilia fought back tears, her heart wrenched at the scientist’s sacrifice.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re finished!” The Altair opened its mouth again, gathering energy within it. Spots darted before Cecilia’s eyes as it grew even brighter, gathering more than enough power to blast the unmoving Luyten V to kingdom come. With a roar, it fired.

“Rose!” Cecilia said, horrified. At that range, the Luyten V would never dodge the blast!

—

Her eyes blinked as they opened, and she stared up at nothing. Her mind was fuzzy—even recalling her name was difficult. What had she been doing? Where was she? She glanced around, confused, to find herself in a white void devoid of anything. Was this the afterlife? Pieces returned to her, remembering the pain of the Altair’s claw slashing her. She must be dead, right?

She floated in the nothingness. If she was dead, why bother worrying about anything?

“Rose.”

She blinked, glancing around in confusion. Who was Rose? Wait—was that her? Yes, that made sense. Dim memories returned as she recalled her name, beyond just the memory of being diced by a monster. More pieces of her past slid into place, and she furrowed her brow. There was something she needed to do.

“Whatever, it didn’t matter.” Rose resumed her aimless floating, but a feeling nagged at her, needling her about forgetting something important.

“Everyone’s counting on me.” There it was—a task that had thrown her into perilous danger until it claimed her. Her family, the world, the future—they were all counting on her to fight. But Rose fought against that notion. She’d fought so hard and won harrowing battles. Didn’t she deserve some rest?

Despite herself, however, she became restless. Rose couldn’t calm the worry eating at the corners of her mind. She recalled that face—hers from the future. It had looked so worn out, haggard from countless battles. And she’d gotten infected too—another of the Altair’s victims. Should she go back, knowing that’d likely be her fate, too? One person could only accomplish so much.

“They seek to consume everything. Not just humanity, the planet, or even the solar system… everything. Period.” Her future self’s words returned to her. “The Luyten V is our hope. Use it wisely, please. Good luck, Rose. And please protect Sophia for me, okay?”

“Sophia.” Yes, that’s right. Her older sister had suffered a terrible fate in the future, hadn’t she? Rose hadn’t been strong enough to protect her. Tears stained her eyes, hating herself for her weakness.

And she was weak, her body ravaged by the Altair. Even if Rose wanted to, returning to life was impossible. The Altair had won.

Yet, she felt hope. Part of her wanted to keep fighting, no matter the cost. She wanted to protect Sophia. Rose wanted to protect her family.

Something nagged at her, demanding her attention. It wanted to drag her back and return her to battle against the Altair. There, she’d return to a world of suffering and likely failure. But that didn’t matter. She wanted to live, to show the Altair that Rosemary Brahe was no quitter.

“I’m ready! Death will only have me through my cold, dead fingers!” Rose said. Blackness consumed her as hands reached from every direction, grabbing at her and pulling her into the darkness. But Rose didn’t fight it. She accepted whatever would happen next.

—

A groan escaped Rose’s lips as she blinked open her blurry eyes. What a dream that had been. She blinked again, disoriented. Where was she?

“Hey!” she yelped as something jolted her entire world—and suddenly, everything became crystal clear.

Before her, a hideous face leered at her. Its mouth was so wide, it stretched well past its face. Much to Rose’s alarm, energy was gathering within its crooked teeth. On instinct, she leaped free of the destructive beam. The motion was so seamless, like she’d done it with a mere thought.

“Huh?” The monster blinked its bizarre, rubbery eyes in confusion. “How did you dodge at that range? Whatever, you’re dead!” 

But Rose defected the meaty fist with ease, the monster howling in pain as she sent a punch into its ugly, mishappen face. 

More blows rained down, but she deflected them effortlessly. Her opponent’s attacks were slow and clumsy, like a toddler wailing at a grown adult. She sniffed in contempt and slammed her head forward. Her forehead collided with the creature’s skull with a meaty thud, and the Altair staggered.

“Not so tough when your opponent can fight back, huh?” she spat. Her foot crashed into the Altair’s chest, and the creature wheezed in pain. Had she knocked the wind out of it? With alien biology, who could say?

Her fists hammered into the creature, each hit knocking it senseless.

She sensed the next threat rather than heard it—a claw slicing in from behind, aiming to decapitate her. She ducked without thinking, then fired her forehead laser. The blast was devastating, nearly incinerating half the monster’s body. Its skin sizzled and bubbled, blackened and scarred. It tried regenerating, but it's ruined flesh refused to heal. Another punch nearly caved in its head.

“How about I finish this?” she growled. She maneuvered both enemies into position, crossing her arms. Time to debut a new technique—they’d regret ever attacking her.

But before she could strike, her mind reeled as it got violently yanked away. She blinked in confusion, suddenly finding herself somewhere else—was this the Luyten V’s cockpit? How had she gotten here?

She fired another beam after the retreating Altair, but something was wrong. The Luyten V moved sluggishly, like it was wading through molasses. When had it gotten so slow? Her beam missed, and the enemies slipped into the nearby woods. She started to pursue but paused.

The LUVOLT base was in shambles. Above, she saw tiny figures scrambling through the wreckage, putting out fires and moving debris. She stood still. If the Altair doubled back, they needed to be ready. Besides, she felt… strange. Even blinking was sluggish. She felt like she was inside a body that wasn’t entirely hers.

She looked down at herself, her movements painfully slow. A gasp escaped Rose’s lips when she spotted a figure sprawled on the cockpit’s floor wearing a hazmat suit.

What the heck?

Carefully, she lowered herself and checked for signs of life. The portly, middle-aged man was breathing, thank goodness.

“Rose. You’re okay?” a voice called through the Luyten V’s speakers.

She struggled back into the pilot’s seat and turned. A tiny figure was waving up at her—it was Cecilia, tears streaking her face.

“Right… I was sick or something,” Rose said, her mind slowly piecing things together. Had she somehow become one with the Luyten V. But how?

Still confused, she opened the cockpit.

“Rose, you’re okay!” Cecilia cried, rushing over to her.

“Yeah… I think so.” Rose frowned. Her voice sounded odd, like it belonged to someone else. Her head spun as she stumbled out of her mech. She blinked as Cecilia gasped.

“What is it?” Rose asked.

“Your eyes,” Cecilia said, stunned.

“What about them?” Rose rubbed her face. She vaguely recalled one of them being injured. Maybe the damage wasn’t as bad as she’d thought?

“One’s red!” Cecilia said. “It’s the same color as the Luyten V!”

“Huh?” Rose turned toward one of the reflective panels on the mech. Two eyes stared back—one her usual grayish-blue, the other a glowing crimson red.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 4

“Excellent work,” Visscher said, gazing down at their captives. “You’ve redeemed yourself, Dino.”

Dino snorted. “Was there any doubt? Besides, they’re only a bunch of kids.”

Johan struggled against his bonds, but a kick from a nearby guard convinced him to stop. The guard’s eyes promised further violence if Johan attempted any further funny business. With some reluctance, he complied.

The Ymir bigwig ignored this alteration, continuing their conversation. “Well, who are they?”

“Some gang called the Jotnar,” Dino replied with a shrug. “No one interesting. They still haven’t told me why they snuck into our secret lab, but I’ll find out.” Johan had the bruises to prove it, but he’d spilled nothing. Whether it was stupidity or nobility, he didn’t know.

“What about Fenrir? Have they told you anything?”

“Afraid not. Eirik is still searching, though. I get the strong suspicion that they were looking for her too.”

“Not as useful as I hoped. Learn what you can, then dispose of them.” Visscher left without another word.

Their captors dragged the Jotnars into the basement of some random building Johan couldn’t identify. Ymir had taken them to a safe house, a nice, quiet place to do their dirty business without drawing attention. It wasn’t anything attractive — a bare room with several pieces of furniture.

“Talk.”

Johan grunted in pain when a nearby thug kicked him in the stomach, leaving him gasping for air.

“Leave him alone!” Rebecca gave the thugs an angry glare.

“You killed two of my buddies.” Samuel’s voice lowered to a growl, his gaze seething with hatred toward Dino. “Once I get free, there’s nowhere you can hide. A bullet in the brain for each.”

“Not talking? Oh. well. There’s a back room we can lock them in. A couple of days without food or water should loosen their tongues.” Dino studied them before breaking into a broad smile. “I wonder. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

“Sir?” a goon asked.

“Van, I want you to send a secure message to each head of Ymir about the Jotnar’s capture.”

Van blinked in confusion. “Why? They already know about it.”

“True, but I have a hunch,” Dino replied, beaming ear to ear. “Fenrir learned about our secret lab somehow. I suspect our company emails aren’t nearly secure enough. I wager that’s how she found out.”

“Makes sense.” Van nodded in agreement. “I’ll send word.”

Dino gave the thug’s shoulder an affectionate slap. “Good man. With any luck, she’ll come running to their rescue. I bet she’s overconfident enough to come, even if she suspects a trap! Besides, it’ll save us the torture, which I’m not a fan of.”

Johan’s ears burned in shame. Now Yareli would be in trouble, and it was all his fault.

“Over here,” Samuel whispered, gesturing with his tied hands. With a surreptitious scoot, Johan crept closer to his friend. Too busy with their conversation, the Ymir thugs didn’t notice Johan loosening his friend’s bonds.

Before Samuel could return the favor, the Ymir thugs returned their attention to their captives. They played innocent. Johan thanked God the goons didn’t notice how slack the ropes were around Samuel’s hands. Now they only needed to wait for the best opportunity to turn the tables.

---

“We found something, boss!” Hakan said in excitement. While he appeared like an empty-headed brute, the man sported a keen mind with a deep love for both sports and computers. He’d earned a reputation for breaking into several government-level computer systems without getting caught.

“What is it?” Selim tilted his head with interest. Since learning about Ymir’s secret project, he’d had his best hacker working to uncover more information. Unfortunately, Ymir had tightened their security since Jotnar’s botched job. Still, no security system was perfect. Ymir would slip somewhere. Selim could afford to be patient.

“It seems they’re putting the heat on the Jotnars! Poor them.” Hakan snickered at the rival gang’s misfortune. As he read further, the hacker’s merriment turned to confusion. “Fenrir?”

“Fenrir? Like in mythology?” According to legend, the mighty wolf would slay Odin, the Allfather, during Ragnarök — the climatic battle at world’s end. Why the message mentioned the mythological wolf was beyond Selim.

“This isn’t the only email mentioning that word. Whoever they are, Ymir wants them,” Hakan replied.

“This mentions a safe house.” Selim peered over his lackey’s shoulder, rereading the message. Apparently, this hidey-hole was where Ymir was keeping the Jotnar.

“It seems like a trap to me. Why else mention the safe house? It’s too convenient.”

“It’s a ploy to lure out this mysterious Fenrir?” A sly grin stretched across Selim’s face. “If so, we should take advantage of it.”

“What about the monsters, boss?” Kevin shuddered, remembering their encounter with the spider monster.

“Never fear. I already have a plan for that.” While Ymir was a wealthy corporation with deep pockets, the Niflhel fought dirty. If this operation proved successful, they’d possess one of Ymir’s wondrous armbands. After that, nothing would be beyond his means.

---

“Yareli!”

“What is it?” Yareli turned as Gramps barged into her studio. Alarm bells rang in her head when she caught his expression.

“Come and see.”

After carefully placing down her palette and removing her apron, she followed. Random colors spotted her biker suit like droplets of rain, but she didn’t mind.

“Feels like a trap,” an associate on the internet had brought it to Gramps’ attention. Yareli had never met this person, but apparently, they worked for a newspaper. The two were pooling their resources to investigate Ymir’s suspicious activity.

“Must be.” Gramps snorted, nodding in agreement. “Worse, they’re using those young people to lure you into the open.”

“Looks like I don’t have a choice but to spring it. I can’t abandon them.” She rushed back to her studio, retrieving her helmet. Before Yareli could leave, Gramps stopped her with a hand.

“Wait, there’s something you should know. Your Ragnadriver has a special feature that might prove useful. I uncovered it in the files you stole.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “It’ll be a nasty surprise for Ymir.”

---

“Be careful, and good luck,” Gramps said as Yareli mounted her bike.

“I will. I’ll be back soon — with guests, hopefully,” she replied.

“I’ll have coffee prepared for them when you get back!” Gramps waved as she rode off.

Despite the dangers, Yareli was excited. It was the same thrill she’d felt when facing the bear monster. For some unknown reason, battle always inflamed her. Despite only being a skeleton, she possessed a fighter’s reflexes and instincts. Martial skills were second nature to her. Yareli wondered if it hinted at something about her past. She’d continued her training, hoping it might revive some dormant memories. Despite not having muscles, Yareli enjoyed the exercise.

“It’s funny. It’s like destiny drew me to the Ragnadriver.” The duffel bag with said device hung over her shoulder within easy reach. She suffered no illusions about what Ymir would throw against her to retrieve it.

“It’s time to knock some heads together.”

---

“Is this the place?” Yareli crouched behind an alley, peering at what appeared on the surface to be an old, abandoned apartment building. There wasn’t any sign of anyone inside. While nicer than most of downtown Bifrost, the building still resided in a slum. People around here minded their own business, pointedly ignoring the woman in a biker outfit covered in paint.

Boards covered most of the building’s doors, but Yareli noticed an unlocked garage door. Closer inspection revealed it in working order, more pristine than anything else in the building. It left her with a quandary, however.

“Time to enter the beast’s jaws.” Yareli considered the boarded-up doors. “Maybe I should slip around instead. Anything to avoid being predictable.” While Ymir’s goons would likely expect this, it was better than nothing.

With some effort, the boards guarding the back door snapped free. Dust shattered in a cloud everywhere as she entered. What greeted her inside was a rundown corridor. She found a staircase leading up, wondering where Ymir might keep Johan and the others. The only sound in the building was the soft tap of her footsteps.

Without a better plan, she explored the first floor first, keeping her steps as quiet as possible. Yareli studied each door, looking for signs of use. The building was only two stories, leaving the Ymir thugs little room to hide.

Her cursory scan of the floor revealed nothing. From the dust, nobody had used this floor in some time. It seemed unlikely her luck would improve on the second. The stairway door leading into the parking garage caught her attention. She winced when the door squealed open and found a stairway leading down.

Before she could explore further, the sound of footsteps caught her attention. The intruders entered the same door Yareli had broken down earlier. Multiple footsteps approached, Yareli slipping behind a nearby doorway as cover.

A gaunt young man led a procession of rough-looking gangers. From the bulges in their clothes, each packed a concealed weapon.

The Niflhel? Why are they here? While she’d never tangled with the infamous gang in person, she’d heard plenty stories about them. They were a rough group, led by a psycho named Selim. From a cursory glance at their leader, it was obvious how he’d earned that reputation. Something about his eyes troubled Yareli.

“Sure this is the place?” one ganger said. He peered around, expecting trouble at any moment.

“They’re here. I can sense it,” Selim replied. “Racer Wolf came here for a reason.” While the gang kept their voices low, Yareli’s sharp hearing picked up every word.

“Think she’s the Fenrir the message mentioned?” a gang member asked. “I suppose it fits.”

“Hard to say, but we’ll learn soon enough.” Suddenly, Selim raised his voice. “Well? Are you Fenrir?”

Much to her shock, Yareli realized the Niflhel leader was addressing her. After some hesitation, she wearily showed herself.

“Why are you here?” Yareli asked. “It’s dangerous.”

“So you can speak. Some of us figured you were mute,” Selim replied, ignoring her warning. “I take it you’re here to rescue Johan and his little buddies?”

“I am.” Yareli had no desire to dance around the issue. “Ymir kidnapped them to lure me out. They’re after my life.”

Despite her emphasis on the dangers, the Niflhel seemed unperturbed. Instead, they appeared eager for action. Yareli remained wary..

“We have a common interest. I don’t want to see the Jotnar get hurt either. We go way back. How about we team up?”

“Sorry?”

“They after you, right? You’ll need backup. You draw their attention, and we’ll strike when Ymir turns their back.”

Despite his words, Yareli sensed the Niflhel leader wasn’t sincere about helping Johan. While scum, she had no desire to get the Niflhel killed.

“I can handle myself, but you can provide backup if you wish. Wait here for five minutes, then you can rush in and help me. I’m sure you’ll catch Ymir completely by surprise.”

She hoped the sight of monsters would make them flee in terror and wouldn’t tempt them to do anything stupid.

The Niflhel leader shrugged. “I can work with that. Get going. We don’t know what shape Johan and his friends are in.” No compassion or worry crept into his voice, his sly grin raising her hackles.

She cursed, wishing the fools would listen to reason. After a steadying moment, she forgot Niflhel, focusing on her mission instead. Ymir wouldn’t be as sloppy in their next tussle.

Her steps echoed down the empty stairwell as she crept down the stairs. At the bottom floor was a simple doorway that squeaked painfully as she pushed it open. Yareli peeked out, finding an empty parking lot illuminated by the dim light. After finding nobody in sight, she slipped through the door and walked deeper into the parking area. She passed a car wash station and brightened when she noticed a singular car parked in a far corner.

Suddenly, spotlights flashed on, their harsh lights blinding her. Massive steps stomped toward her, taking advantage of her distraction. Gashes tore into her suit as she instinctively rolled away from unseen claws, the gap revealing her skeletal spine.

As her vision adjusted to the sudden change in light, a massive spider monster towered over her. Like the man from yesterday, the creature wore an armband across one of his multiple arms. The monster swiped toward her again, but she slipped aside and attached her belt across her waist.

“Henshin!” Light flashed, and her armor appeared over her body.

“See, Eirik, the girl’s good.” The accented man from yesterday emerged from a nearby stairway door. He wore an eye patch over his injured eye, but otherwise seemed hale.

“She’s slick. I’ll give you that.” The spider monster flexed its arms, pumping his enthusiasm for the upcoming fight. “Hurry and transform, Dino. If you haven’t forgotten, we have a job to do.”

Dino released a theatrical sigh before attaching a new armband and withdrawing his Uhyre Key. “Got it. Terrorize!”

The bear monster sent a swift claw strike toward her midsection, but sparks flew as the bladed weapons intercepted the blow. She grunted as he pushed her back, his muscles bulging with the effort. The spider monster attacked her from her blind spot, but Yareli leapt upwards, away from Eirik’s four-pronged assault. Fenrir retreated as her opponents fought together, attempting to overwhelm her.

Yareli blocked every attack she could, but the spider monster’s multitude of arms was impossible to deflect completely. Each blow made her body shudder from the impact. She spun in midair after failing to block a punch from Eirik, sending her flying across the parking lot. Her fist tore pavement as she thrust it into the chipped road, halting her flight.

Her eyes caught Niflhel watching the battle with scared, fascinated eyes from a distance. Yareli eyed her opponents warily, wondering how she’d match their combined might. Should she use her ace now? The situation seemed desperate enough. No — she’d wait for a more opportune time. Instead, she charged forward, half of a plan forming in her mind.

While her opponents were quick, Fenrir was faster. She dove between them, and they recoiled in pain when her claws slashed at Eirik’s right leg and her sword sliced Dino’s chest. The bear creature snapped his fangs, but Yareli slipped out of their reach. Eirik took advantage of her momentary distraction and swiped at her rolling form with a meaty fist. As her blade caught the blow, Dino charged toward her — but he walked right into her trap.

When she pulled back her sword’s hilt, the weapon changed, opening up to reveal a barrel. Dino’s eyes widened when he came face-to-face with her newly transformed gun. Energy bolts flew from the barrel, driving the bear creature off course and barreling him into a nearby wall.

Furious at his ally’s plight, the spider monster swiped his multi-limbed claws toward her. With a sudden twist of her hand, Fenrir’s gun returned to its sword form. She ducked under his attacks, swiping her blade across his midsection. As Eirik staggered in pain, she reverted her weapon to its gun form, peppering her opponent’s face with bolts.

“Nasty trick. You’re full of surprises.” Flecks of dust fell from the bear monster’s hideous, bulbous head as he pulled himself free. Despite the injuries she’d inflicted, neither of her opponents seemed ready to surrender.

“This isn’t over!” The bear monster placed his extending claws against a wall, and ice crept over its surface. Frigid air shot from his mouth, emitting plumes of white mist.

“Again?” What was going on? Somehow, Dino’s mastery of his Uhyre Key grew stronger after every exchange.

After another roar, Dino charged forward and swung his claws. A wave of frigid air struck Yareli, freezing her against a wall. Despite Fenrir’s tremendous strength, the ice resisted her best efforts. A wall cracked on impact when the bear monster slammed his head into Yareli’s helpless form. She struggled to regain her footing, but icy breath struck her body before she could recover, freezing her in place.

“Incredible!” Eirik said, his voice awed. “Somehow, your key is reacting and making you more powerful! I wonder…” The spider’s monstrous mandibles twisted in consternation as he gathered into himself.

“Oh, crap!” She couldn’t afford to fight two super-powerful monsters. Yareli twisted her gun, blasting the ice freezing her in place. The bolts shattered the ice shattered, allowing her to leap away. Her weapon pointed toward the spider monster, wondering what threat it might pose. Instead, Eirik almost toppled over in pain. Yareli tilted her head in confusion.

“What’s the matter?” Dino asked.

“Impossible,” Eirik replied, his monstrous voice pained. “Why can’t I push past my limits?” Furious, he charged forward, planning to trample his opponent.

Yareli calmly jumped out of his path and inserted her Uhyre Key into her weapon midair. Energy gathered around the barrel of her weapon, directing her attention at the spider monster’s exposed back.

“Death Spike.”

Red-hot energy lanced into the spider monster. Eirik crashed into a nearby wall, leaving a deep crater. The intense heat from the shot melted the pavement behind him. The man untransformed and bent over, coughing blood.

“You fool, we’re meant to fight together.” Dino eyed Yareli warily, wondering if he should continue the fight.

“Excuse me.”

Yareli glanced toward the newcomer, wondering if it was another monster to fight. She froze upon finding Arend Visscher pointing a pistol at Johan’s head. The Jotnar’s hands were bound, and he struggled with his restraints.

“Sir?” Dino asked in surprise.

“Sorry to interrupt the battle, but I don’t intend on losing.” Visscher gestured with his free hand, and several men in black suits appeared, each holding a gun to one of Johan’s friends.

Annoyance appeared on Dino’s monster bear features, but he shrugged and returned to his human form. “That settles that, I suppose.”

“I shouldn’t need to remind you what happens if you don’t cooperate,” Visscher’s gun barrel pressed hard into the younger man’s forehead.

“What do you want?” Unlike Dino, Yareli remained in her Fenrir armor, considering her options. “Surrender my belt? Come with you?”

“Both. You’re an interesting subject of study.” Visscher pulled his gun away from Johan’s head and directed it toward a leg instead. “You have three seconds to untransform, or I’m shooting him apart, piece by piece, Kamen Rider.” Fear filled the young man’s features, giving her a helpless, pleading look.

“Fine.” Yareli spat out the word and pulled her pendant from her weapon, returning her to normal.

“Toss your belt here.” Visscher’s voice offered no objection or compromise. Yareli complied as instructed.

“Grab her.” Visscher gestured to one of the suited thugs, who scampered over in her direction. The man approached with a confident swagger, but his eyes remained wary, prepared for trouble.

“You okay, Eirik?” Dino asked.

“I’ll live.” Eirik froze as he spotted Selim and his buddies watching from behind a door. “Who the hell?”

As their hiding spot’s door flew off its hinges, the Niflhel opened fire, uncaring who they hit. Dino scrambled away on all fours, using the nearby car wash center as cover. Visscher wasn’t so lucky, clutching at a sudden bullet wound to the chest. Johan ducked his head, quaking as bullets zipped by. Thankfully, Johan’s friends were lucky, the Ymir thugs pulling them toward the safety of the stairwell. The goons returned fire, the parking garage becoming a bloodbath.

Yareli jerked as bullets struck her, but they didn’t appear to cause any damage. She darted forward toward her belt, ignoring the rain of gunfire around her. She used her body to cover Johan, absorbing the gunshots. While it amazed her that the bullets didn’t shatter her skeletal form, Yareli had more urgent problems to contend with.

In a single motion, she returned the Ragnadriver to her waist. Before she could activate it, a random bullet knocked her pendant from her hand. It slid some distance away. Yareli cursed, but didn’t dare move for Johan’s sake.

Eirik crawled toward Yareli’s fallen Uhyre Key and received a bullet to the neck for his trouble. He twitched for several moments, gargling blood, before going terribly still. A man yelped in surprise when Samuel pushed him from their hiding spot toward the open parking lot. The Ymir thug gasped in surprise as the suddenly free prisoners jumped him. The thug scrambled to recover and flee to safety, but Selim shot him through the forehead for his trouble.

Seeing a sudden lapse in the gunfire, Yareli took her chance. An opening! “Hold on.”

“What?” The Jotnar flailed as Yareli grabbed him by the collar and flung him across the room. Johan crashed through the doorway to his friends’ hiding spot. A Ymir thug yelped in surprise as Johan collided with him. Samuel used this opportunity to steal the man’s guns and decked the thug. More Ymir agents died in droves, eliminated until only Dino remained.

“Hold.” The shooting stopped as the Niflhel leader stepped forward, darting toward the cowering Dino.

Before the Ymir agent could struggle to his feet, a boom echoed through the underground parking lot as Selim shot him point-blank in the chest. The poor man gasped in pain and collapsed, but Yareli spotted the rising and falling of his chest. Unlike the CEO, he’d been wearing a bulletproof vest. Gingerly, the Niflhel leader removed Dino’s armband. A devilish grin appeared on his face as he attached it to his own arm. He picked up Dino’s Bear Uhyre Key, but it landed with an audible clank as he discarded it.

“Sir?” a Niflhel asked in confusion.

“It doesn’t suit me.” Instead, Selim retrived the Spider Uhyre from Eirik’s corpse, eyes glinting with malevolent glee.

“What are you planning?” Yareli said, her voice low and dangerous.

“Whatever I want. Terrorize!” Black flames surrounded the Niflhel leader as he transformed. His exoskeleton was pure white, a two-prong red stripe racing across his back. A viscous fluid dripped from his mandibles, burning through the pavement where it landed.

“What? His form is completely different!” Selim pounced toward her, but Yareli had her key ready. As lightning-fast claws whipped past her helmet. With a swift motion, she retrieved,  her pendant.

“Henshin!” A fist struck the spider monster in the mandible face, but Selim only laughed as it bounced off.

“Yareli!” Johan cried out in horror when a casual strike of the spider monster’s claws hurled Fenrir flying across the room, colliding with a wall with the force of a speeding truck.

“Amazing.” Selim examined his claw, his hideous mandibles beaming with malevolent glee.

“Damn.” Yareli’s foot slipped as she struggled to stand, using a nearby pillar to support herself. As she reached for her sword, Yareli froze at the sound of approaching police sirens. Someone must have reported the gunfire.

Forgetting Selim, she darted toward Johan and his friends. Thankfully, the Niflhel leader had no interest in pursuing the fight.

“We need to leave now,” Yareli said.

“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Johan was already dashing up the stairs.

“We’ll continue this later, Racer Wolf.” The garage door crumbled to scrap as Selim’s mighty claws slashed into it, exposing the night sky.

Great. Another new enemy. While the Niflhel getting their hands on the Uhyre Keys’ technology was disastrous, flight came first.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 3

“How did it go? Were you successful?” Gramps asked as she entered the back door. As usual, his lab was a mess—mechanical parts scattered everywhere in an organized chaos only their owner understood. While Yareli couldn’t throw stones in this department, she wished he’d allow more room to walk around.

“Better than expected!” Yareli didn’t hide her excitement, causing her friend to raise an eyebrow.

“What’s that strapped across your waist?” Gramps hobbled over to examine the strange device.

Paul Davidson, or Gramps for short, was a wiry old geezer well into his seventies. Despite his advanced years, his mind hadn’t dulled. His skill with machinery remained second to none. In Bifrost, he provided repair work for various automatic systems, making him quite prosperous. The older man adjusted his thick spectacles as he studied her Rangadriver.

Yareli extracted the USB stick from her suit pocket. “Here’s everything. You wouldn’t believe what Ymir has been planning!”

“Please, hold nothing back.” Gramps gestured to a nearby couch. “From your excitement, you’ve obviously had quite an adventure.”

A shaky, weathered hand stroked a thin beard after she finished her story. “Quite a story. It confirms Ymir developed your pendant. Who would have ever guessed it contained such power? A Kamen Rider? I like it. Quite a striking name.”

“They’re a tech company for the public sector. Why the secret weapon project? I didn’t get the impression this was for any military purpose. They killed to keep their secrets. I doubt it’s legal.”

“I’ve heard rumors about their president’s ambition.” Gramps nodded, his face concerned. “But it’s certainly a mystery why he’d go this far.”

“It can’t be for money. Otherwise, they’d be working with the military.” Bifrost City was a joint effort by several European countries and powerful corporations. Officially, it belonged to Norway. If Ymir desired money, wouldn’t they just make some lucrative contracts with the EU? Selling the technology to the highest bidder in seedy black markets to unscrupulous groups or countries couldn’t even be a third as profitable.

“Let’s find out.” Gramps inserted the USB stick into his personal computer. While the machine appeared ancient, it housed an impressively powerful CPU. Gramps had a strong nostalgia for older computer designs.

Despite his age, his fingers blurred as he typed. He whistled as he studied the specs on the Rangadriver. “I’ve never seen an alloy like this before. Mythril? Cute. The nanomachines it creates spread across the body, creating the wolf-like armor you used.”

“Nothing about me.” Yareli fought to keep the bitterness out of her voice. While they’d stolen some valuable data about the Rangadriver, it contained nothing else.

“We’ll solve this, Yareli. Just be patient. We’re one step closer to the truth.”

“One step forward.” She’d hoped learning about her pendant would at least provide some clues. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, I’ll be in my studio.”

Before she left, Gramps smiled and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, for saving those young men, Yareli. It was courageous of you.”

If Yareli still had blood, it’d be rushing to her cheeks. “It’s what anyone would do. Just keep an eye out. They might track us back here.” While they were criminals, abandoning them to Ymir was unacceptable. After Gramps gave her another smile, she left his work area.

Yareli removed her helmet and placed it on a nearby chair. She hated getting her prized helmet dirty and strapped an apron over her biker suit. Despite being alone, Yareli felt self-conscious walking around as only a bare skeleton. It seemed obscene somehow.

Canvases sat everywhere in her studio. Most were half-finished due to her odd moods. It was like the tide, washing in new ideas and sweeping out the old. None of them were of anything particular. Instead, Yareli had painted whatever came to mind. In her view, art had no real form beyond a person’s imagination. When she wasn’t helping Gramps with work orders, she painted her heart away.

A giggle escaped her as she plucked up her palette and selected a random green color. Spirals popped into her mind, and she painted away, not caring whether it made sense. Expression was the only thing that gave her dreary life meaning.

---

“Well?” Johan asked, peering over Rebecca’s shoulder. The hacker girl tapped on her keyboard for several moments before turning her attention toward him.

“Easier than I expected, actually.” Rebecca moved her mouse around the screen. “I assumed one random biker girl among millions would be impossible to find, but our superhero friend is a celebrity of sorts.”

“Really?” Samuel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rebecca pulled up an image on her computer, and Johan’s breath caught. It was Yareli speeding down Fifth Avenue on her bike. The brightly colored wolf painted on her helmet stood out among the blurry, speeding cars.

“Someone on Bifrost’s message board took this picture for his photography class and posted it online. She makes quite a striking image, and it’s earned her a few fans.” Rebecca clicked another file, and another image of Yareli relaxing on her bike appeared. “They call her the Racer Wolf.”

“She isn’t very good at hiding herself,” Samuel snorted.

Johan agreed. Why the wolf on her helmet? Was she trying to draw attention to herself? He studied the photo more closely and realized what had struck him as odd. While a close approximation of a woman’s figure, her body’s proportions weren’t quite square. He guessed Yareli padded her suit to make herself appear more human.

“What are you, Yareli?” Johan thought. Aloud, he said. “Fantastic news. Where can we find her?”

“She’s usually found in eastern downtown.” Rebecca opened a map of Bifrost and indicated the spot with a finger, and Johan tensed.

“Isn’t that Niflhel territory?” They were a bloodthirsty group who’d grown in prominence over the last few years. Their leader was a sadistic psychopath. After tangling with the gang on several occasions, the Boss had concluded it’d be wiser to keep their distance.

“If only the Boss hadn’t…” Samuel cursed, spitting into a trash can. “We don’t have a choice.”

Until then, Johan hadn’t realized how much their imposing leader had protected them. Without him, they were easy prey for other gangs. The Niflhel would show them no mercy.

“They won’t appreciate us going around asking questions, but spotting Yareli shouldn’t be difficult,” Johan said. How many living skeletons were walking around the city?

“Let’s see them try.” Samuel nodded, holstering a handgun. “Even without the Boss, we’re a force to be reckoned with!” Johan reluctantly pocketed his own weapon.

Rebecca flinched. “Please don’t shoot on sight.”

“You wound me, Becca.” Samuel snorted in amusement. “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything if they leave us alone.”

Still not happy, Rebecca nodded. They loaded into the van. She drove while the other Jotnar members hid in the back. Despite most cars having a self-driving feature, Rebecca loved taking manual control. They were counting on the Niflhel not recognizing her, since she rarely left their base.

Eastern downtown wasn’t as rundown as most of downtown Bifrost—not surprising, considering how many small businesses and workshops operated here. Not that it was much safer. Johan spotted a graffitied building with windows shattered by bullet holes. The Niflhel were very protective of their territory.

Thanks to the hefty advance payment from Simensen, they had plenty of cash for gas to cruise around the streets. Rebecca made occasional stops at random convenience stores or shops to obscure her intentions. Much to their disappointment, they didn’t catch any sign of Yareli. Johan supposed the girl was keeping low to avoid Ymir’s attention. That didn’t hinder Rebecca’s inquiries about Racer Wolf, and she was getting some solid leads.

“Racer Wolf?” the man said, laughing. They sat in a random diner, the man’s leather outfit marking him as a biker. “’Course I’ve seen her around. How could anyone not notice her skill with that bike? Artistry, I tell you. I’ve asked her to race more than once, but she always rides off.”

“If she doesn’t race, why is she called Racer Wolf?” Johan asked.

“Because her machine is quick—uncatchable.” The man replied with a whistle. “Believe me, I’ve tried. And she’s a lone wolf, always keeping to herself. Never heard her utter a word.”

“No one knows what her deal is?” Samuel asked, sipping his drink.

The man shrugged. “Not unusual. Bifrost attracts all sorts.” Unfortunately, he couldn’t provide them with anything more helpful, but he did indicate a street Racer Wolf visited sometimes. Johan froze, ducking Samuel’s head behind their booth.

“What is it?” Samuel grunted in pain and annoyance.

“Look!”

Samuel peeked his head over, paling upon recognizing the man entering the diner. It was the funny-accented man who’d transformed into the bear monster and killed two of their friends. Samuel’s expression turned ugly, reaching for his weapon.

“Don’t,” Rebecca whispered, reaching out a hand to stop him. Thankfully, the thug passed without even glancing at them, scooting into a nearby booth with his pal.

“I’m not stupid,” Samuel replied, blushing a little. “You think I want to get arrested?”

“It seems he survived the fight, at least,” Johan noted the man’s injuries and the bandages over one eye. Seemed Fenrir had done a number on him. What kind of power did her suit have to defeat a monster like that bear creature?

“They’re searching for Yareli too,” Samuel scowled.

“Perfect. This complicates things.” Still, they stayed put, trying to overhear the Ymir goons’ conversation.

“Dino, why here?” The other man’s face spoke of someone who welcomed fights—and usually won them. While he kept his head shaved, he wore a handlebar mustache.

“Because, Eirik, the fries here are excellent. Besides, after the yelling the president gave me, I deserve a treat.”

Eirik snorted in amusement. “You’re such a hedonist. Can’t take the slightest pain without rushing to comfort foods.”

“Guilty as charged,” Dino replied, without shame. “Besides, I need the energy. We’re no closer to finding her.”

“We’ll get her. She can’t hide forever. We’ve at least learned the target lives around here.”

“Dammit, Yareli. Why’d you make such a spectacle of yourself?” Johan thought. A chill ran down his spine when something cold pressed against his throat. It was a knife.

“Looks like someone’s wandered into the wrong neighborhood.” Terror crept into Johan’s heart as he recognized that cold, pitiless voice. “No Boss to protect you, either.”

The man’s gaunt features were pale and thin, almost deathlike. His eyes, however, froze the bones. They had a manic gleam to them, craving violence and pain. This was someone who enjoyed hurting people.

“You can’t! We’re in a public place!” Rebecca said, her eyes wide and frightened.

Selim Jones, the leader of the Niflhel, shrugged. “When you’re stuck in my web? Why should I release you?” Johan’s heart raced as blood trickled down his neck.

“Good one, boss!” a Niflhel lackey said—more muscle than brains.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Johan replied, calmer than he’d expected. He yelped in pain when Selim tossed him onto the diner’s hard, tiled floor.

“Then scram. Don’t come around here again,” Selim said. “You’re lucky we’re in a public place.”

Johan couldn’t find his voice but nodded, grateful he’d only received a minor cut.

“You!”

Johan turned and found the two Ymir thugs staring at him. They stood to attention, reaching into their pockets.

“Run!” Johan dashed toward the door, his friends following him to safety.

“Huh?” Selim blinked, watching as the two Ymir thugs chased after the fleeing Jotnars.

Johan cursed as a suited man blocked the diner’s front entrance. “How about you come with us? Don’t cause a scene.”

“This way!” Rebecca pointed toward the swinging door leading into the kitchen.

The Jotnar rushed toward the back room. Cooks yelled in consternation as three young people ran into their workplace, then confusion and fear when jackbooted thugs followed behind. While cramped, the kitchen provided just enough room to reach the back door. Johan kicked it open, revealing a back alley. Besides an overfilled dumpster and a homeless man, it was empty.

He scanned around, searching for the best route to safety. With so many Ymir thugs running about, he doubted they could retreat to their vehicle. Unfortunately, this wasn’t their turf, and they knew little about these backstreets. How would they return home from here? What if they ran into more Niflhel?

“Our best option is to run around, lose them, then double back toward our van,” Johan thought.

He pointed toward a backstreet, indicating they should flee that way. His friends nodded, taking the short staircase leading out of the diner. The homeless man opened his mouth to ask something, but they ignored him. They fled into a right alley, hoping to lose their pursuers.

---

“What the heck was that?” a bewildered Kevin asked, as the Jotnar fled from several suited men.

“Beats me.” Selim considered the strange episode. Those men had been professional types, not gang members. What kind of trouble had the Boss’s people gotten themselves into? From the amusing burst of fear on Johan’s face, it couldn’t be pleasant. “But I intend to find out.”

Curiosity stirred within him. Selim had heard rumors about certain under-the-table jobs the Boss performed. He considered them foolish. He prized his independence—living however he wished. Contracts and deals would only tie him down. It amused Selim how badly the Boss had screwed up. Had they ticked off a major corporation like Ymir? He’d enjoy watching the Jotnar squirm as the noose tightened around their necks.

They followed into the kitchen, an angry glare silencing the protests from the balding middle-aged manager.

“You. Where did they go?” Selim asked the homeless man, who desperately wished he’d been elsewhere. No doubt the Niflhel’s reputation preceded them.

The old geezer pointed a shaky hand toward a far alley, and they followed his directions. As they got closer, it wasn’t difficult to notice the commotion his prey was causing. They increased their pace, took another turn, and entered an old, abandoned basketball court. The Jotnar were cornered by a wire fence, the two suits moving to block any escape.

“Finally.” One of the suited men smirked. He pulled something from his pocket, attaching a strange armband to his arm.

“Terrorize.”

Selim stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed with horror, as the man transformed—becoming something monstrous. The man roared as his body contorted. His skin hardened, transforming into an almost translucent brown exoskeleton. His face grew hideous mandibles with enormous buggy eyes. Four extra spider-leg-like appendages sprouted from his body, reducing his nice suit to tatters.

“Monster!” Kevin staggered backward, unable to believe his eyes. Selim found himself rooted to the spot, frozen in terror.

With an impossible bound of its spindly legs, the spider monster blocked the Jotnar’s desperate escape attempt into another alley. Dear God! That jump must have been at least six meters!

“You aren’t going anywhere.” The spider monster pointed each of his razor-sharp claws toward the Jotnar. His voice boomed in the silent park. Much to Selim’s astonishment, the Jotnar seemed unimpressed that the man had just transformed into a freaking monster.

Johan eyed the street the spider monster’s massive frame blocked, wondering if he should risk it. The creature used his multiple limbs to cover every escape route. Samuel only shook his head in frustration. The girl Johan didn’t know stared at the creature with equal parts terror and fascination. The one-eyed man reached the Jotnar and pulled out a pistol. He gave the spider monster a nod, and the creature relaxed. His body contorted again and returned to human form.

Suited men charged into the courtyard, Selim pushing Kevin behind a nearby bin. The suited men moved to surround the Jotnar, offering no opportunity to escape.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The one-eyed man gestured with his weapon, making the consequences of resistance clear.

Grim-faced, the Jotnar allowed the suited men to throw their arms behind their backs. Some instinct told Selim to follow. He kept low, watching with keen interest.

“That was reckless, Eirik,” the one-eyed man said, chastising his fellow, but then smiled. “But effective. Saved us a lot of running around.”

“Couldn’t let these rats scurry away.” Eirik scanned his surroundings, still alert for trouble. “They look like gang members to me. Who are they?”

“Something I intend to find out,” another voice said. Eirik stiffened, recognizing it. Arend Visscher, a bigwig of Ymir, exited the unmarked van wearing an angry scowl. “Get in. We’re going to have a long, pleasant chat.” His voice dripped with menace, mouth twisting into a cruel smile. Selim didn’t envy the Jotnar.

After pushing Johan and his friends into the van, they drove away to whatever horrible fate awaited them.

“That was crazy!” Kevin spluttered. “What’s going on? That was a real monster, boss!”

“Beats me.” While Selim shed few tears for the Jotnar’s fate, the episode piqued his interest. He took a picture of the unmarked van with his phone. It would make tracking down the vehicle much simpler. Somehow, that armband had granted this Eirik person power. Selim’s eyes shone with predatory hunger. “But I intend to find out.”

[jonathanvik]

Krisis - Chapter 13

“Hurry!” Sweat slid down Rocke’s forehead as he pushed his tired legs faster. He flinched as a laser bolt slipped past his chin, missing by mere inches.

“Just a little further,” Maple said, pushing their charges forward. With dozens of guard robots on their tail, the slightest misstep might be their doom. The Ottomon couple trailed behind them, their breaths panting.

“Down this alley!” Rocke said, taking a sudden left turn. They dashed into a surprisingly clean alley, contrasted by the man in rags sitting inside it.

The homeless man gasped as he spotted Rocke, recognizing him. “Hey, you’re that Demon-loving traitor!” When he saw the guard robots chasing after them, he tried obstructing their path. “I’ll get a big reward if I catch you!”

“You must be kidding me.” Rocke made a snap decision, ducking as a guard robot took another potshot at him. “Hurry, I’ll distract them!”

The homeless man hesitated as Rocke got into his path, allowing his friends to pass. His priority was protecting the couple at all costs.

“You want to fight? Go ahead.” Rocke said, standing to his full height. From the corner of his eye, his spotted the guard robots charging into the alleyway with them.

The man hesitated, surprised by Rocke’s sudden boldness. But the homeless man sneered as the guard robots got closer. “He’s mine, you hear! I found him!”

But the guard robots cared little about his words, programmed for ruthlessness. When they got a clear shot, they opened fire, heedless of who else they might hit.

“Hey!” The homeless man howled, ducking as the bolts flew past him. Rocke slipped against the wall, making himself a small target.

“Sorry about this!” Rocke said, making a snap decision. He grabbed the homeless man by the collar and hurled him at the guard robots, praying this would work. 

The guard robots tottered as the homeless man collided with them, giving Rocke the split second he needed to flee. For good measure, he grabbed a neatly organized trash bin and hurled it at the guard robots. Rancid liquid dripped over their eyestalks, blinding them. Nearby cleaning robots tittered in annoyance, their claws cleaning up the mess. It’d only distract them for a split second, but that’d be enough.

“Back here, you traitor!” The homeless man yelled, wincing as he rose to his feet, but Rocke was already gone.

“There you are!” Maple said, relieved. She stood over an open sewer entrance. She hadn’t wasted the time he’d bought her.

A rank smell wafted from the opening. But Rocke ignored it, alarmed as he realized that Maple was clutching her right side. “You’ve been hit!” In the confusion, he hadn’t noticed.

“I’ll survive.” The older Ottomon woman said, her face pained but resolute. “We need to get moving.”

Rocke cursed, but helped the couple enter the sewer entrance first. His eyes never left the alleyway he’d just fled. His heart pounded as he spotted silver shapes moving closer.

“Hurry!”

After the couple had entered, Maple was next. Despite her injury, she managed it. The guard robots had finally emerged from the alley and spotted them in seconds. They raised their weapons to fire, but Rocke jumped into the sewer hole before they could shoot.

“Ouch.” His knees screamed in protest as he landed on hard cement, but he’d manage. “Hurry, the guard robots will call someone who can follow us.”

The others of his party nodded, and Rocke limped after them as they headed deeper into the sewer, hopefully to safety.

---

“This way,” Rocke gestured for the couple to follow. The sewers were quiet as they marched forward, their feet splashing through fetid water.

Despite Rocke’s attempts to keep quiet, he’d somehow awakened the baby cradled in the woman’s arms. The infant’s cries echoed through the tunnels like a blasted bullhorn. Rocke winced, hoping nobody heard it. In hushed tones, the mother tried calming her child. 

And behind them, Maple limped after them. Rocke grimaced at the blood oozing from her side. The stray laser wound had been worse than he’d thought.

“Is it much further?” the Ottomon man’s tattoos were dimly visible in the faint light of Rocke’s flashlight.

“It should be,” Rocke remained straight-faced as the woman’s baby continued bawling, gesturing for them to continue. With Maple wounded, he needed to show a brave face. Over the last few days, he’d learned the best option was to push forward and keep moving.

He’d changed much over the last ten days, seeing firsthand how terrible the people of his once-great country behaved. After Prime Minister Luciest’s speech, everything had gone pear-shaped. Rocke was doing his best to mitigate the damage.

Visible relief struck Rocke’s face as they finally reached the rendezvous point, a white hand marking the way. It was a simple design—a chalky handprint—but to the Ottomon people, it symbolized hope. He gestured for his charges to climb the metal ladder.

Fraught with tension, the couple did as instructed. While she struggled with one arm, the woman made the climb with some effort. Rushed from their home, they hadn’t had the chance to grab something like a backpack carrier.

Maple had even greater trouble, woozy from blood loss. But with Rocke’s and the husband’s help, they somehow managed it. 

“There you are,” Jafia said, her relief visible. “You’re late.” Her expression turned to alarm when she noticed the blood straining Maple’s dress. “Maple, you’re hurt. Quickly, inside!”

Rocke relaxed somewhat, glad they’d reached a safe haven. They had an emergency medical kit in the safe house. Hopefully, its antibiotics would stave off any infection from Maple’s trek through a sewer. Still, he remained on guard, knowing guard robots might still appear from nowhere. It had happened before. While they were in an abandoned area, they still stood out in the open.

“We ran into some trouble. But we got through, somehow.” Rocke sighed. They’d only survived through the skin of their teeth.

“We’d better hurry, then. The robots might still be following you,” They followed Jafia to a rundown building on Vladus’ outskirts. It had once been an office building, but they’d converted it for their purposes.

“Thank you.” the Ottomon man said, thumping his chest with a fist. “The rumors about you were true, young man. You are the Sovereign’s chosen warrior. You fought to defend the High One’s holy man.”

This earned a slight smile from Rocke. Other Ottomon had also called him that. “I don’t know about that. I’m just someone that wants to help.”

The couple continued their praise, sitting down on a sofa that occupied the room. The furnishings were simple—a card table, a fridge, some cots, and a battered old couch. 

From a cupboard, Rocke withdrew the medical kit. “Let’s stop that bleeding. 

He winced as Maple pulled up her shirt, the tissue scarred badly from the laser wound. After spraying it with disinfectant spray, Rocke attached a patch of artificial skin on the wound. It would attach itself to the skin and stanch the bleeding. Except for a slight discoloration, it was almost identical to real skin. 

“Thank you, Rocke.” Still pale, Maple rested on a cot. She lost consciousness almost immediately, her breathing pained. Rocke offered the Sovereign a quick prayer for their leader’s quick recovery. They won’t have survived with her these last nightmarish days. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jafia said, her tone serious. “We’re moving again soon. But get some rest. There’s food in the fridge and cots to sleep on. Get both. You’ll need it.”

The couple did as instructed, the woman finally getting her child asleep again. They shared a can of cold beans—a paltry meal, but it’d suffice.

Rocke rested against a wall, his limbs sore. He swore he’d trekked across almost the entirety of Vladus this last week.

“You holding up?” Jafia asked, her usually stoic features softening.

“As well as one can hope,” Rocke replied. “Thanks for this. You’ve been a great help.” Jafia’s organizational skills had been invaluable in arranging these little smuggling raids.

The couple they’d helped had holed themselves up in a rotten, abandoned building before the resistance had found them. Rocke guessed it’d been their first meal in days from how they’d devoured those cold baked beans.

“I just hope Maple will be okay.” Rocke said, giving the wounded Ottomon a quick glance. 

“She’s a tough old bird. She’ll make it.” Jafia didn’t hide her admiration for the older woman. “Just doing my part. But it’s still not enough,” She showed a rare display of irritation.

While they’d brought dozens of Ottomon to freedom, tens of thousands still suffered in the internment camps. They both heard the stories about the camp’s brutal conditions. People starved, living in quarters zoo animals would find constraining. Disease was rampant, and the OUP did little to aid them. From the reports, dozens died a day. It made Rocke wonder if the OUP intended to just kill the Ottomon in camps and not bother deporting them.

“Yeah.” Rocke sighed, knowing the truth of his ex’s words.

He fought back a yawn and stumbled over to a cot. He’d gotten precious few hours of sleep these last few hectic days. It was hard to rest with the military and police forces hounding his tail. Had it only been ten days since the Prime Minister Luciest’s announcement? It’d seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Night.” Rocke closed his eyes, following his own advice about getting some rest. He’d eat later. They’d move again in another four hours. Then, hopefully, they’d get the couple safely out of Vladus.

It felt like a defeat. The Ottomon were still getting banished from Vladus forever. Still, anything was preferable to abandoning them in the internment camps.

Besides, they had resources outside town to help them, led by Rocke’s own grandmother. They’d built a little township outside Vladus called Hagion. The fledgling town, though merely shacks at present, offered a better alternative to wandering the plains outside the city. Since the OUP wasn’t interested in providing for the expelled Ottomon people, they’d do it themselves.

Still, Rocke worried few Ottomon would survive Project: Ugly Duckling. It’d been pushed back a couple of day, but the Prime Minister was still gung-ho about completing it. In his bones, he felt a worse tragedy coming. He just prayed he could save enough people from what was coming.

---

“Really, it’s no bother,” Jafia said, accepting the Ottomon couple’s thanks for the tenth time. Despite her protestations, they kept wanting to thank her. Jafia kept her annoyance at bay. Rocke was better with people than her. In Jafia’s opinion, a hard day’s work was reward enough. Thanks were unnecessary.

Eventually, everyone settled down for sleep—not easy with a cranky baby. From her limited medical knowledge, Maple seemed stable enough. It’d have to be enough until they return to Hagion. Restless, Jafia spent some time outside to keep watch. Besides, this last week hadn’t given her much time alone.

Since Prime Minister Lux Luciest’s announcement, Vladus had changed overnight, becoming a nightmarish landscape for anyone who didn’t belong. And Jafia had felt that sting.

It was like fate had brought her closer to Rocke when the police raided her apartment. Somehow, Police Chief Rolf had gathered enough evidence for a warrant. Pity for the officers who’d rampaged through her apartment—the bomb had certainly been a surprise for them. That act solidified any suspicion that Jafia wasn’t who she claimed to be. At least the law didn’t know she was a Vanderfall spy—yet.

Still, it left her adrift, and she’d wandered into Rocke’s circle. Not that she was complaining—his little resistance group was doing good work. Still, it was a far cry from her original mission of assassinating Mayor Sunbearer. How would she ever explain this to her superiors? Not only had she failed to kill her target, she’d failed to foster the chaos Vanderfall wanted before their invasion. Whatever. Circumstances had worked against her.

 “I can keep guard.”  Rocke said, sidling over to her. “You can rest instead.”

“No, it can wait. I’ll rest later.” Jafia replied. “I’m more surprised about you. Normally, you’re out like a light when your head hits the pillow.”

“I find little reason to sleep easy anymore.” Rocke shook his head.

In his eyes, she saw the horrors he’d witnessed over these last ten days—from the massacres during the failed riots to the brutal lives the Ottomon suffered in the internment camps. Despite herself, it tore Jafia’s heart apart. A sweetheart like him shouldn’t suffer so. They sat in companionable silence before Jafia finally spoke up.

“With everything going on, I almost forgot.” Jafia reached into her coat pocket and produced a worn book, battered and beaten from many years of use.

“My signed copy of The Adventures of the Sky Island?” Rocke accepted the book with reverence. “I assumed my parents threw away everything after my disgrace.”

“No, not yet.” Jafia’s quirked in a slight smile. “I went to your apartment and retrieved your things. I wanted to return them to you. The rest I hid in a subway station locker, but I thought you’d want this first. I know it’s important to you.” Though, in retrospect, this might have fatally tipped her off to the police, but you can’t predict the future.

Rocke’s smile turned nostalgic. “My grandmother enjoyed reading this book to me when I was young. She was the only one who did—neither of my parents ever bothered. Anyway, how’s Marsh holding up?”

“He seemed fine when I last saw him,” Jafia replied, her tone neutral.

“It’s funny—I want to see him again. Despite everything, I still miss him.”

“Hm.”

“Thanks for this.” Rocke leaned over and rested on Jafia’s shoulder. “And I missed you too. You’ve helped me when I least deserved it.”

“Don’t say that. I’m always glad to help.”

“I mean it.” Rocke’s cheeks flushed as he struggled with what to say next. “You’ve stood by me during the worst. Most girls wouldn’t.”

“I’m not like those shallow UOP girls. I stick by my friends,” Something in Jafia’s heart told her to grab Rocke’s hand and squeeze. But she resisted the impulse. Given their current situation, that’d be ridiculous. Still, she didn’t protest as Rocke rested against her, his expression like an innocent child.

“Rocke, when this is over…” Jafia hesitated. What would they be after the UOP’s collapse? Friends? Something more? She turned to see Rocke’s reaction to her ridiculous floundering, but found him snoring against her. She only smiled and patted his cheek. He could be so adorable. With some effort, she pulled him onto an empty cot for better rest.

As she was finishing up, a sound caught her attention. Silently, she reached for a hidden sidearm and flipped off the safety. With careful steps, she headed toward the sound’s direction. She backed away as the door swung open, weapon at the ready. But she relaxed as she saw who it was.

“Don’t do that! I could have shot you!” Jafia said, putting her sidearm away. “Use the signal.”

“I did.” The man stood with his arms crossed. Rojan was of slight build and in his late fifties. Jafia knew, despite appearances, he could handle himself in a fight.

“Oh.” Jafia felt embarrassed. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. Sloppy—she’d allowed her tiredness to distract her. “You’re early. There’s an hour left until we’re ready to move out.”

“I know. The winds blow across the plains.”

Jafia tensed. “It chills a man to the bone,” she said, giving the rest of the code phrase. But how did this man know it? “I wasn’t expecting someone like you here.”

“It’s a bit of a coincidence, but a welcome one. Vanderfall wants to see the Ottomon safe. It’s throwing in its support to help them, but not openly. At least, not yet.”

“Good.” Much to Jafia’s relief, the others were still fast asleep. It was safe to speak, though they kept their voices low. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here and not off assassinating the mayor?”

“We can guess. We know about what happened at your apartment. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. You’re suspected of killing Minister Polk Loffie.”

“Police Chief Rolf is sniffed me out like a rat,” Jafia said, scowling. “And the mayor is too protected. He smelled something was wrong after Loffie died.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to scold you for your failure. No, I’m here for another opportunity.”

“Oh?” This caught Jafia’s attention.

“Three days from now, Mayor Sunbearer is planning a shindig to celebrate the success of Project: Ugly Duckling. He’s inviting the city’s elite to watch the Ottomon get evicted from Vladus forever on his personal airship the next day.”

“Security will be tight.” But already, Jafia’s head spun with ideas.

“But we have a way in. While still cautious, Sunbearer has let his guard down somewhat. We want you to kill both him and the elite attending the party. This is an opportunity to sow chaos.”

“Will the Prime Minister be there?”

“We don’t think so,” Rojan replied. “Other distractions are keeping him busy. Though, we suspect that Lux Luciest isn’t interested in throwing too much support behind Sunbearer.”

Jafia nodded. “I doubt he was happy when he learned about Project: Ugly Duckling.” Though it didn’t stop the canny, ruthless politician from turning the debacle to his advantage.

“Are you up to it?” Rojan asked. “We are perfectly fine with you helping Rocke’s resistance group. Anything to keep the law distracted.”

Jafia turned to watch the sleeping Rocke, her heart torn. She wanted to stay with him forever, never leaving his side, but she owed a duty to Vanderfall. Besides, Sunbearer deserved death for his crimes.

“I’ll do it.”

---

“This is a big plan, Matthias,” Rocke said as his friend laid out his suggestion. With Maple injured, someone needed to watch out for the group. “Risky.”

“But we must,” Kallane said, gung-ho as ever. “My uncle’s in that camp!”

“Hm.” As usual, Nitao stood in the back, listening, arms crossed. While he hadn’t understood exactly everything they’d said, he’d caught enough to understand.

This comment earned a raised eyebrow from Rocke. “I thought you despised him, Kallane.”

“That may be, but he’s still kin!” she argued back, and Rocke could only shake his head. Still, he had to sympathize with Hooven somewhat. The ex-Ottomon tried everything to get the OUP to accept him, only to get betrayed, anyway—not unlike him. 

“Okay. But freeing an entire internment camp? That’s beyond anything we’ve tried before. How would we even accomplish that? And how will we transport those people?”

“I understand your skepticism, but hear me out,” the prophet replied. “This time, we will use their own technology against them. We’re lucky—this camp, called Camp R, sits near Vladus’s border. I thought we could rush along the deportation somewhat, right under the OUP’s noses.”

“Hmm.” Rocke hadn’t realized his friend was talking about the infamous Camp R. The stories from that camp sickened the soul. The warden, Famus Kin, was infamous for his cruelty—a “hero” of the last war with Vanderfall. He’d butchered entire settlements to make his enemy’s country more pliable for peace talks. The Ottomon in that camp weren’t safe in his hands. Many might not survive to Project: Ugly Duckling’s due date. Still, this was a massive undertaking.

“You have my attention,” Rocke said finally. “What’s your plan?”

“It’s something your girlfriend devised,” Matthias said.

“She’s not my girlfriend. Not anymore, anyway,” Rocke replied evenly.

“Yeah, she isn’t!” Kallene said. She was so touchy whenever Jafia’s name came up. Rocke didn’t understand the antipathy between the women. His ex had more than proven her trustworthiness.

“Anyway, she brought to my attention a vulnerability in the guard robots the city uses. Turns out, they aren’t up-to-date, and their firmware has holes we can exploit,” Matthias said. While the city owns hundreds of guard robots, most had stayed in use past their prime. The city council was stingy about replacing them with more advanced models, preferring to use the tax money for their personal pet projects instead.

“Okay, but what about the flesh-and-blood guards?” Rocke asked.

“That’s the thing—Camp R only has half a dozen at best. Easy enough to subdue.” Matthias wasn’t wrong here. Containing thousands of citizens wasn’t easy, and the city was forced to rely on guard robots to keep them contained. 

“You make it sound so easy. What about when you sprung me from prison? Your hacking attempts didn’t work then.” Rocke still hadn’t forgotten about the two Ottomon who’d sacrificed themselves to free him. It was still unknown what had happened to them.

“It will work this time.” Matthias replied.

“And how will we transport these hundreds of refugees?” That was the rub. While Camp R stood close to Vladus’ border, moving so many people even that short distance wouldn’t be easy.

“We hijack them. My source says the facility has transport vehicles ready for use—fast ones, too. We’ll break through the outer city defenses easily if we’re quick enough,” the prophet replied. 

“I guess it’s the start of a plan, but this won’t be easy,” Rocke said.

“Nothing worth doing is,” Matthias replied.

“Please, Rocke. We must help them,” Kallane said, her tone pleading. No doubt she was still reeling after her mother’s injury yesterday, not wanting to see anything happen to another family member. Her mother was in critical condition. Losing her leadership hurt their little resistance group severely. Rocke only hoped he could manage in her steed.

“Okay, but no stupid risks.” Already, Rocke was gathering all the relevant details in his head, creating a mental checklist. If he recalled right, didn’t the camp sit on a rather prominent hill. Could they use that to their advantage?

“Right.” Kallane gave a solemn nod.

“Give me a map of Camp R and the surrounding area. Then contact Jafia. Camp R might have other vulnerabilities. Let’s see what we can do.”

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 2

“Impossible!” the bear monster’s massive frame retreated a step, shaking his head in denial.

Yareli flexed her gloved hand experimentally. Much to her disappointment, her senses remained dead. Skeletons couldn’t feel, hunger, or even sleep. Yet every movement—every twitch—contained a staggering amount of power. Despite her odd unlife condition, she felt alive.

Still, her transformation only raised more questions. Why had her pendant activated this strange belt? What did the scientist call it? The Rangadriver? Never mind, she’d answer those questions later from the data she’d stolen.

The bear monster snorted, drawing Yareli from her musings. “No clue why you possess an Uhyre Key, but you’re dead, regardless.” Despite his bravado, she detected the apprehension behind his voice.

With blinding speed, the creature slashed a paw toward her head. Fenrir slipped aside, astonished by the power a single step had given her—almost throwing herself into the nearest wall. Experimentally, she drove her claws into a nearby pillar. It shattered upon impact, concrete powder dripping from her clawed fingers. She started at the dust coating her hand, amazed.

Taking advantage of her distraction, the bear swung a tree-thick leg at her head. But Yareli dodged effortlessly, blocking the next blow with a knee. After regaining their senses from these recent, shocking developments, the Ymir guards raised their guns at her. The remaining Jotnar members yelped in fright and ducked down, hoping not to get caught in the crossfire. The bear monster raised a claw to stop them.

“No, I will handle this. We wanted combat data, remember? Record the fight for Dr. Nomikos and the other higher-ups.”

“Yes, sir!” A guard pulled out their phone and pointed its camera at the two combatants.

“’Sides, I doubt your weapons would harm her anyway.” The bear monster gave her a sideways glance. True, it wasn’t like bullets had injured him.

“It’s time to get serious, Fenrir. Dodge this.” Despite his bulk, her opponent struck with remarkable speed, the blocked blow almost hurling Yareli off her feet.

She grunted as a paw broke through her defenses, slashing across her sternum. While Yareli couldn’t feel pain, the impact rattled her bones. It tossed her aside like a rag doll, bouncing hard against a nearby wall. The creature charged again, but the Kamen Rider leaped away before the swinging claws connected.

While they fought, the gang members enacted their own plans. The Ymir guards ignored them, too enraptured by the fight. Johan pulled out his phone and desperately tapped at it.

“Rebecca, we need help now!” the gang member almost yelled into his phone. “It’s all gone sideways!!”

“I’ll need to clear a path for them,” Yareli thought, grunting as another claw slashed across her armor, sparks flying from the impact. Thankfully, she caught herself before getting thrown into another wall. As they fought, she gained some understanding of her suit’s abilities. The monster gasped in surprise as a fist caught one of his massive paws.

“Good, keep the van ready.” Johan gave the guards blocking the exit a wary glance. “We’ll find an escape somehow.”

Enough playing around.

The bear monster’s expression turned to panic as she deflected each of his blows. His movements seemed almost glacial as Fenrir went on the offensive. A grunt of pain echoed through the small hallway as her fist impacted the creature’s thick, protective fur, pebbles of concrete raining from the impact into a nearby wall. Blinded by rage, he charged forward. But Yareli was already behind him, kicking him across the hallway. Guards scrambled away as the creature flew toward them. As she’d predicted, it offered the perfect opening for the gang members to escape.

“Go!” Yareli pointed toward the opening.

Johan trembled, awed by her power. But he nodded, fleeing toward the exit with his friends. A guard stretched a hand to grab him by the scruff of his coat, but Yareli caught the man’s arm with ease. With a quick flick of her wrist, she tossed him aside. The other thugs watched her warily, realizing how useless they were against her.

“I’m not finished yet!” the bear monster said, fangs snarling. Much to her amazement, his body contorted, expanding to tower over her. His injuries seemed to vanish, his movements no longer pained. Behind his monstrous bear face, she detected a smug expression.

“What the…?” She gasped in shock as a meaty fist sent her flying, metal crumpled like tissue paper as she flew through a lab’s thick door. With a flip, she leaped back to her feet in a crouch. The bear monster’s massive arms pushed their way through the lab door’s remains, reducing anything in his path to shrapnel.

Claws drove into her chest with astonishing power, hurling her through a lab station and shattering its contents. The creature’s bombardment of slashes intensified, staggering from the devastating strikes. It amazed her that the monster’s increased bulk hadn’t decreased his speed in the slightest. Fenrir slipped through his wild attacks and slashed across the enormous beast’s chest with her claws. But he only grunted, slapping her aside. The impact sent Fenrir flying through a wall into another lab, crumpling some expensive-looking equipment on impact.

“Damn, seems my claws can’t cut it.” Yareli grunted as she struggled to stand, but brightened when she noticed something protruding from her belt. What was this? It slipped from the buckle, appearing like the curved hilt of a sword. A rune-covered purple blade extended from the handle as it exited her belt. She whipped it around, testing its weight. The empty sockets of her skull sparkled when she noticed her new weapon had an open slot to insert her pendant.

Metal crumpled as the bear monster pushed himself through the hole in the wall blocking his path. Glass cracked as he approached, eyes glittering with menace.

Yareli darted forward, using the creature’s arm as a springboard. Her opponent recoiled in pain, holding one eye with a clawed hand. She landed behind the bear monster and pulled her pendant from her belt. Fenrir’s blade sparked as she inserted her key into the sword’s slot. Its runes glowed, mist forming around the blade.

“Torrent Fang!” A tide of water flew from her sword as she slashed at the creature’s back. Each droplet shattered whatever it touched upon impact, the torrent throwing the monster across the room. The room rumbled as he crashed, like it had suffered a minor earthquake. The creature groaned in pain, his armband snapping off and exploding. His key slid across the floor, blackened but otherwise unharmed.

The bear monster’s body contorted before returning to its normal human form. Much to Yareli’s relief, the man was still breathing—if shallowly. While his right eye was a bloody mess, his injuries didn’t seem too severe. Yareli sighed, relieved she hadn’t killed him.

Still, what were these armbands? She glanced down at her belt. A pang of worry struck her, fearing what other horrors Ymir might unleash against her.

“I’ll deal with them later.” Yareli darted toward the lab’s exit. Though hesitant, none of Ymir’s thugs dared to stop her. As she ran through the tunnel, Yareli scooped up her discarded helmet. Thankfully, the gang members she’d rescued were long gone. She prayed Ymir hadn’t chased after them.

It didn’t take long to reach her motorcycle. She untransformed by removing her pendant and returned the helmet over her skeletal head. After revving the engine, she sped away from the scene. Satisfied no one was following her, Yareli rode toward her hideout. Hopefully, Gramps could make some sense of these files. They might finally provide a vital link to her mysterious past.

---

“Hurry, get in!” Rebecca waved from a beat-up van parked across the street.

Johan and Samuel fled toward the vehicle, almost tearing the side door off in their haste to escape. They dove inside, the door slamming shut behind them.

“Wait, where’s the Boss and Randell?” Rebecca eyed them in concern.

“We’ll explain later—drive!” Johan waved his hand wildly, urging her to escape while they still could.

Rebecca bit her lip but nodded and drove off. She peppered them with questions, but her friends didn’t reply, too relieved by their narrow escape. After parking in the garage of their hideout, she stomped her foot and demanded answers.

Johan’s voice cracked with pent-up emotion as he spoke. “They’re dead.”

“What?!” Rebecca’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “Ymir won’t…”

“He’s right,” Samuel snarled, slamming his fist against the van’s door. “They slaughtered them!”

“What happened?!” Rebecca glared at them with hard eyes.

“They used some sort of bioweapon.” Johan couldn’t provide any better answers. Anything else sounded crazy. Part of him remained convinced he’d only imagined the whole escapade. How else could he explain bear monsters and talking, living skeletons?

“Like a virus?” Rebecca scooted away from her friends.

“No, it’s complicated,” Samuel replied. “They used something like the belt to transform into a monster.”

“Sorry?” Rebecca leaned forward, unsure she’d heard that right.

Johan threw his hands up. “I don’t know. The whole thing is crazy.”

“And you didn’t get the belt either.” Rebecca studied her fellow Jotnars. “Start from the top. Don’t worry if it sounds completely insane.”

Johan did his best trying to explain what had happened. Rebecca crossed her arms, listening patiently. It took several moments to absorb the entire tale, but she believed them—much to Johan’s amazement.

“The belt had special properties, according to the hacked files I discovered. And it created special armor?”

“And now it’s in that skeleton chick’s paws.” Samuel scowled. Their rescuer had ruined any chance of completing their mission.

“Are you sure she wasn’t wearing a mask?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe?” Was his memory playing tricks on him? His eyes widened in horror at the implication that they’d lost the belt.

“Ymir will kill to protect the secret of the belt! We need to skip town now! Our employer might also kill to keep their secrets!” Heck, they should abandon their hideout too. Too many people knew about it.

“No way,” Samuel shook his head. “We can’t allow Ymir to get away with killing Randel and the Boss!”

“Are you crazy?!” Johan shot back. “They’ll kill us!”

“No, Samuel is right,” Rebecca said. “If Ymir is doing something illegal, we need to stop them.”

Johan stared at his friends like they were insane. Why couldn’t they understand the dangers?

A cough caught their attention. Johan’s blood turned cold when he noticed the sleek black car blocking the garage’s exit. It was the same people who’d tasked them with stealing the belt. A heavyset man approached—more muscle than man—his black tailored suit barely containing his massive frame.

“We’re dead! So dead!” Johan thought.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” another man said. Johan gasped in surprise, recognizing the man from the news. It was Sten Simensen, the president of Ophion Industries.

Samuel lowered his hand to his weapon but groaned when he found his holster empty. He’d dropped it during the chaos in the lab. Everyone froze. Simensen’s bodyguard had already drawn his sidearm, keeping it trained on the Jotnar. Sweat beaded down Johan’s forehead, realizing how screwed they were. Much to their relief, Simensen raised a hand, belaying any violence.

“Please, I’m not here to enact any punishment for the failed op.” The president gave them a genial smile. “In fact, I request for your further assistance.”

Though relieved they weren’t dead, suspicion crept into Johan’s voice. “Why?”

“Because the situation is more complicated than I expected. My spies among Ymir’s guards told me alarming news. My sources informed me about the Rangadriver—but not these armbands that transform people into monsters.”

While it didn’t surprise Johan that Ophion’s president owned an inside man in Ymir, it annoyed him that Simensen hadn’t used them to steal the belt. He supposed they were more expendable.

“So the monsters are real,” Rebecca breathed. “But we can’t fight them!”

“True, but you are friendly with the Rangadriver’s wielder,” Simensen replied. “The young lady who’s a skeleton beneath her biker outfit? Kamen Rider Fenrir, was it? It was a terrible shock to me too. I saw her when she fled from the warehouse.”

“And?”

“And I want you to befriend her.” Simensen gave them a warm, encouraging smile. “She saved your lives, after all.”

Samuel’s eyes lit with understanding. “And steal the belt back.”

Simensen shook his head. “No, copy data from it. Fenrir can keep the belt. After all, only she can wield its power.”

“I don’t understand.” Johan shook his head, confused.

“It’s simple. Only Fenrir is powerful enough to defeat Ymir’s monsters. That’s a useful asset I wish to cultivate. How about it? I promise the pay will be good. This is a unique opportunity.”

“Well?” Samuel eyed Johan with a questioning glance, wondering if this offer was real.

“It would be better if we skipped town!” Johan thought.

But his friends had a fierce determination to get revenge against Ymir. Johan supposed it wouldn’t hurt to ally themselves with Yareli. Her Kamen Rider powers had protected them from Ymir’s wrath. Still, Johan wasn’t stupid. This slimy president was plotting something. But the pay—and his burning curiosity about Yareli—were too tempting. The Jotnar exchanged a nod.

“Fine, we’ll help you,” Johan said to Ophion’s president.

“Fantastic!” Simensen said. “Glad to have you aboard!”

While overjoyed he wasn’t about to die, Johan felt guilty that he planned to lie to Yareli to gain her trust. She’d risked her life to save them. It seemed so dishonest to earn her friendship this way. Johan discarded his concerns. This was about survival and revenge. A little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone.

---

“She gave me a real beating, I tell you.” Dino shook his head, chagrined.

The action sent fresh waves of pain through his body. A thick bandage covered the eye the skeleton girl had hit. The doctors were uncertain if he’d regain sight in that eye again. He currently stood in President Wilson’s office, the various heads of Ymir taking turns to berate him.

“I don’t understand how she used the Rangadriver. It should be impossible!” Chadwick Smith, head of weapon development, wasn’t a handsome man—his scowl made him appear devilish.

“Her unique body might allow her to bypass human limitation,” Jessica Lauper, Chief Strategy Officer, replied, sounding bemused. Drawn from an exercise session for this emergency meeting, she still wore her sweats. It didn’t detract from her attractiveness; her middle years had aged her to perfection. Her emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Is she one of yours?” scowled Arend Visscher, head of media, giving Smith a questioning glance. “Where’d she come from?”

“I’m investigating the matter,” Smith replied. “We have many special projects, but nothing like that. Nothing about her body makes sense. She shouldn’t be capable of moving without muscles!”

“And she possessed an Uhyre Key,” Dino added, piping in. He hated being ignored. “It hung around her motorcycle suit.”

Smith’s scowl deepened. “We’re looking into that too. I don’t recall a wolf key being put into development.”

“What danger do you believe this Kamen Rider Fenrir poses to Operation: Ragnarök?” President Wilson finally spoke, steepling his fingers on his desk.

The president of the multitrillion-euro company was a burly man with the body of a prizefighter. His features were unusual from his mixed birth. His father had been a New York stockbroker, and his mother a Japanese businesswoman. They’d met during a random encounter on a plane. Mark Wilson was a dangerous man. He’d built Ymir from nothing and wouldn’t tolerate any interruptions to his plans. Everyone froze as he spoke, understanding the severity of the situation.

“She stole data from the secret lab,” Visscher said, his tone careful. “Why, we aren’t certain.”

“That answer isn’t acceptable.” While Wilson’s words were calm, they made everyone flinch. “Learn why. Track her down and recover the Rangadriver and her key. Alive, dead—I don’t care.”

“Yes, sir!”

“What’s with this mood?” Reine slipped into Wilson’s office, unperturbed by the room’s tension.

Wilson’s face broke into an amiable smile. The president of Ymir had a soft spot for its premiere idol. “Just a disagreement, Reine. Nothing that needs to bother you.”

While Reine sounded unconvinced, she didn’t press the issue. “Well, okay. Dinner with the mayor begins in half an hour. I came to ensure you weren’t late. You’re so bad at keeping track of time, president!”

Wilson nodded. “I’ll be along soon. I have a slight matter that needs dealing with.”

“Okay.” Reine waved, leaving her boss’s office.

“Find Fenrir.” Wilson’s expression turned dangerous once the idol had left. “Eliminate whatever threat she poses.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find her,” a new person said. In his hand was the Uhyre Key, which he tossed into the air before catching it. It bore the symbol of a spider. “You’ll help, right, Dino?”

“Of course, Eirik.” While pleased he wasn’t on the chopping block, Dino doubted his friend would allow him to forget his failure. But whatever—he was eager to get some payback on Fenrir. Next time, she wouldn’t be so lucky.

[jonathanvik]

Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 1

“Evening, everyone!” The beauty on the screen waved her hand, her smile enthusiastic. Ever since Reine had become the spokesperson for Ymir Industries, Johan had been lovestruck. Her stunning smile brought joy to his day. With her frilly, tastefully revealing dress, Reine was quite a trendsetter! The idol was stunningly beautiful, with bright gray eyes and a button nose dusted with noticeable freckles. She wore her dusty-blond hair short, in contrast to current fashion. Reine was quite the trendsetter!

Johan gazed up at the screen attached to the skyscraper above him. Other screens displayed the same picture, almost everyone stopping their business to watch Bifrost City’s premier idol.

“We have remarkable news! Ymir Industries is announcing a brand-new, revolutionary project!” The idol gave a self-conscious smile, which tugged at Johan’s heartstrings. “I’m afraid its science is beyond a dummy like myself, but I can explain the general premise.”

After extending a hand, a shimmering image of two lab-coated men appeared within it. One scientist placed a metal cube on a platform while the other fiddled with some controls. Johan’s eyes widened in amazement as the cube glowed with light before re-materializing on the other platform three meters away. People muttered in astonishment, wondering if this stunning feat of science was only a clever illusion. The picture vanished when Reine’s hand closed.

“Ymir Industries is proud to announce that it has uncovered the secret of matter transference! An unbelievable breakthrough sure to change life forever! We’re already working hard to make it affordable for the average consumer.”

“I’m moving into a new apartment. I wonder if they’ll loan me one? Anyway, the possibilities are endless! President Wilson will hold a press conference later tonight to announce further developments. See you there!” Reine winked before her picture blinked out.

The excitement created by this announcement was infectious, everyone hypothesizing how it might affect life in Bifrost City. It was the first major city built on the ocean, constructed almost twenty years ago by pushing human technology to its limit. The marvel housed almost ten million people. It earned its name, Bifrost City, because it stood between Canada and Norway off the coast of Britain, connecting both land masses by an enormous, expansive bridge. It was known as one of the newest marvels of the world, a feat of unprecedented construction.

“Reine is so amazing!” Johan said. “She even made me interested in this boring science junk.”

His best friend, Randall, snorted in derision. “Who cares? It’ll only make Ymir richer. Like we’ll see a dime from it. Quit wasting time—we have a job to perform.”

Johan sighed at his friend’s painful ignorance, but Randall was right. The Boss loathed tardiness. They left the glistening streets, with their automated vendors demanding attention, and skyscrapers for Bifrost’s more unsavory parts.

During the city’s construction, the politicians had promised that Bifrost would be different—a crime-free paradise without slums or homeless people. What a joke that had been. The rapid technological advances had made getting lower, menial jobs difficult. As a consequence, the city suffered a high unemployment rate.

Towering architectural wonders were replaced with rundown, squat buildings as they traveled downtown, graffiti lining most of their walls. People huddled in corners, exchanging money and product with deft fingers. In this place, asking questions was dangerous. Johan heard distant gunfire. While some glanced around cautiously, nobody seemed particularly alarmed. In this section of Bifrost, life was cheap. Johan’s gang, the Jotnar, had involved themselves in their fair share of scraps to survive.

Johan kept alert for danger. You never knew when another gang might start trouble. Everything seemed normal until he spotted a woman in a black motorcycle suit staring at him. Her helmet’s visor was down, hiding her face. The odd, oval-shaped disc hanging around her neck caught his eye. Her ride was an expensive, sleek piece of machinery—dangerous to have in this unsavory neighborhood. Before he could warn her, she disappeared into a side street.

“Strange.” Johan only shrugged, following his friend into their hideout.

The place was rundown, the skeleton of a moving company office ruined by the invention of self-driving cars. While a mess of old pizza boxes, scattered computer parts, and soda cans, it was home. It had a fully stocked fridge and a basketball hoop, which served their needs nicely. While Johan wanted to grab a quick beer, he required a clear head for tonight.

“You’re late,” the Boss said without preamble. He was an enormous man with broad shoulders, standing tall enough to be a professional basketball player. His expression brokered no nonsense, his hard, piercing eyes unwavering. Rumors said he’d led an L.A. gang before coming to Bifrost. While a tough man, he protected his own. Johan respected that.

“Reine again. I tell you, he needs help,” Randall said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, you can’t fight true love!” The Boss’s second-in-command, Samuel, said. His scarred lips snickered in amusement. The pale scars contrasted sharply with his almost chocolate-colored skin. “I’m sure he keeps his imaginary wife happy!”

“Shut up!” Johan rolled his eyes but smiled at the jest. Why couldn’t these guys understand true art when they saw it? They’d actually laughed when he tried to play one of Reine’s albums for them.

“Enough gallivanting about,” the Boss said, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’ve got a job to do.”

The Jotnar went serious, ready to conduct the dangerous job they’d planned for weeks.

---

“You certain it’s not just an old warehouse?” Johan asked.

The Boss nodded. “Rebecca confirmed the intel’s good. The place is drawing an unusual amount of power. Inside, Ymir is hiding something.”

“The security appears light,” Samuel said. “No doubt to avoid drawing attention. I’ve seen people go inside, but not many. But stay on guard—Ymir guards their secrets jealously.”

“Avoid using them unless pressed. I don’t want the cops breathing down our necks.” The Boss opened a duffel bag, revealing some handguns—Glock 19s, from their appearance. “But don’t hesitate to kill if necessary.”

Everyone nodded, grabbing a weapon and concealing it somewhere for easy reach. Johan swallowed. While he’d been on the practice range many times, he’d never actually fired on a living person before. He cast aside his doubts. If they completed the job, they’d be rich! Still, the firearm’s cold, hard steel pressed against his hand caused an involuntary shudder.

Seagulls cried overhead as they slunk into the shadows, keeping well hidden. Since every self-driving car had cameras, they wished to avoid any possible detection. The ocean crashed behind them, the sea’s strong scent filling Johan’s nostrils. After passing long-abandoned, empty warehouses, they approached Warehouse 9—their target—a craphole that had seen better days.

Johan furrowed his brow. “Why here and not one of their fancy facilities in Yggdrasil Tower?”

“Not legal, I bet!” Samuel bellowed a laugh. “Good for us. I doubt they’ll report the robbery to the police.”

The Boss’s phone buzzed, and he answered it. “Yes, we’re there. We’ll rendezvous with you soon.”

“Rebecca says the coast is clear. The place is empty,” the Boss said. “She’ll meet us inside.”

After checking for any sign of cameras or guards, they darted inside the building. Trash and garbage covered the barren, abandoned floor. Johan gave the hole-ridden ceiling a worried glance, fearing a possible collapse. Rebecca stood inside, impatiently waiting for them.

“Don’t worry about cameras. I’ve already disabled the three watching the place.” The hacker girl wore baggy clothes, the type of generic brands you’d expect to find in a low-rent department store. A fashionable gray beret covered her curly red hair. She clutched a backpack shaped like an oversized koala, containing her laptop.

“The entrance?” the Boss asked.

“Over here.” She directed them toward the manager’s office. Beyond a rusted metal desk and some rotting bookshelves, the room seemed barren at first glance. On closer inspection, however, Johan spotted footprints in the dust.

“Excellent work, Becca!” Samuel gave their hacker genius a thumbs-up.

“You sure you aren’t coming?” Randall asked.

“Heck no!” Becca stuck out her tongue. “It’s dangerous! Best leave you big, strapping men to handle the shooty part.”

“Big, strapping men?” Samuel rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“Call if there’s an emergency. I have several contingency plans ready.” Rebecca waved her phone. Its wallpaper displayed a koala chomping eucalyptus leaves. “Now stop distracting me.”

The hacker girl revealed a hidden panel behind one of the bookshelves and connected her computer to a port with a cable. After a quick tap of some keys, the panel light flashed green. A bare spot opened up, revealing a hidden staircase.

“This’ll give you Level 1 access.” Rebecca passed the Boss a plastic card. “They got lazy when they designed this place. It uses typical Ymir security systems.”

“Stay alert, everyone. Keep your weapons at the ready.” The Boss crept down the stairs, ready for any trouble.

“Good luck!” Rebecca bit her lip in worry.

---

“A hidden lab. It’s hard to believe,” a figure said, watching behind her visor as the gang members entered the abandoned warehouse. “So, my hunch was correct. Ymir is up to something.”

Considering the many rumors, it wasn’t surprising. She’d learned about this heist thanks to her friend’s excellent investigation skills. While the gang’s employer remained unknown, she had her hunches. Many rival corporations were jealous of Ymir’s success.

She grabbed her pendant tight with a gloved hand. After counting to ten, she followed in a crouch. If she was correct, she’d finally uncover the truth she sought.

“What’s with this place?” The secret facility turned out to be more expansive than they’d expected. The underground tunnels wound around in confusing patterns, and Johan feared they’d get lost. Much to their surprise, they encountered no guards while sneaking through the tunnels. Several times, Johan thought he’d heard something, but his investigations turned up empty.

“Wait.” The Boss pushed them behind a wall as a suited man with slicked-back red hair and a goatee passed by.

“Isn’t that Bert Visscher, a CEO bigwig in Ymir?” He recalled seeing him standing next to Reine in Ymir press shoots.

“Stay quiet. He might lead us somewhere interesting,” the Boss whispered, and everyone nodded.

After a dozen corridors, the CEO halted at a metal door. He pulled out a plastic card from his coat pocket and swiped it. The door’s light flashed green, allowing him access. Beyond the door, Johan saw more endless, bland corridors.

Thankfully, their card worked, and they traveled deeper into the facility. It appeared to be one enormous lab. Behind glass doors, they saw various research rooms filled with expensive-looking equipment whose purpose was impossible to determine. Ymir must have spent millions to construct this place. Voices caught their attention, and they spread out, hiding behind some pieces of equipment as the CEO spoke to a lab-coated man. The Boss pointed toward a far door, instructing Johan to keep watch. The other Jotnar guarded the other entrances so they would remain undisturbed.

“Burning the midnight oil, Doctor Nomikos?” Visscher asked.

The scientist rubbed his greasy, shoulder-length hair with a hand. The man yawned, harried from lack of sleep. “No choice. The president wants the Ragnadriver in production as quickly as possible. The prototype is temperamental.”

He gestured to a strange belt connected to a nearby computer by multicolored wires. The device contained an enormous silver belt buckle for some unknown purpose. Strange runes were etched into the device’s surface, extending from the buckle to the strapping of the belt. They’d finally located their target.

“It’s too powerful,” Doctor Nomikos continued. “After inserting their Uhyre Key, the shock of the transformation either incapacitates or kills the subject. We are still uncertain why.”

“Wonderful,” Visscher sighed. “The president won’t be pleased. This delays our plan by several weeks at least.”

“This is delicate work. Ragnadriver can’t be rushed.”

“Don’t move.”

A voice whispered behind Johan, whose body stiffened in response to the cold barrel pressed against the nape of his neck.

“Seems like we’ve uncovered some intruders,” the guard spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Drop your weapons, or this one dies. You only get one warning.”

Nomikos and Visscher’s eyes widened in surprise as Johan and the others stepped out of the shadows. The other Jotnar dropped their weapons as instructed, sending their teammate angry glares for messing up. A pit formed in Johan’s stomach, realizing they might all die because he’d gotten distracted. Ymir wouldn’t tolerate some busybodies leaking their secrets. The Boss’s eyes darted around, seeking any escape routes. The guard whispered into a communicator, requesting more reinforcements. He kept his gun trained on the Jotnar, ensuring nobody tried anything stupid.

“And who are you?” Visscher asked. “Are you from a rival company? Ophion, perhaps? The Ragnadriver is a wonderful piece of military technology. Its applications are limitless. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that it will change everything.”

“Answer him.”

Johan winced when a gun barrel pressed harder against his neck, his body quaking in terror. The Boss remained quiet, refusing to betray his employer. The Jotnar leader would rather die than provide Ymir with any information. Johan’s legs trembled, feeling faint. He didn’t want to die.

“Pity. Seems you require some persuading.”

The guard’s finger tightened on the trigger. Johan closed his eyes, praying his death would be swift and painless.

The guard screamed as someone violently tore his hand away from his captive’s head. Johan gasped. It was the motorcycle girl. Oddly, her motorcycle helmet still masked her face.

An ear-splitting sound echoed through the lab as the gun discharged, shooting a bullet into a nearby piece of machinery. The girl twisted the guard’s hand tighter, forcing him to release his weapon. She kicked it aside and hurled the man onto the cold, hard floor. A follow-up kick knocked the guard unconscious.

She froze when the Boss scooped up the fallen weapon and pointed it at their rescuer in one swift motion.

“Who are you?” the Boss asked, narrowing his eyes.

“The one who saved your life,” the woman replied calmly. “Fighting amongst ourselves wastes time. I cleared out several guards, but reinforcements will arrive soon.”

A light bulb lit up in Johan’s head. So that’s why they hadn’t encountered any guards. Yet, the Boss remained unmoved. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

The girl gripped the pendant around her neck. “I only want the truth.”

The Boss studied her strange garb, which completely obscured her identity. “You’re not a cop. Reporter? PI? It doesn’t matter. You’re not getting the prize.”

His head gestured toward the belt. Randel got the message, scooping the device into a duffle bag. The scientist and CEO didn’t object, eyeing Samuel as he covered them with a gun. Dr. Nomikos held his hands up high. Visscher, in contrast, wore a cool, almost amused expression.

“I don’t care,” the girl replied. “I only want their computer’s data.”

After studying their tentative ally for several beats, the Boss lowered his weapon. “Fine. Do what you want. We’ve obtained our objective.”

“Hey, that’s mine!” the scientist protested as the girl accessed a workstation, inserting a USB stick. After typing a few quick commands, she pocketed the device into a side compartment. Somehow, she knew Ymir’s passwords.

“I’m ready,” the girl said, rejoining them.

“Fine, let’s get out of here,” the Boss said. “I’ll allow you to accompany us, but only if you give me a copy of that stick.”

The biker girl nodded, finding the arrangement agreeable.

Samuel brightened. “That’s sure to get us something extra. Good thinking.”

Visscher watched as they exited the lab, his amusement only growing. “You’re not escaping here alive, fools.”

Something about the CEO’s words set them on edge. Did he know something? Unease creeping in, they broke into a sprint.

As they fled, Johan couldn’t help but study their new ally, sensing something off about her. It was on the tip of his tongue, but the thought refused to surface. Finally, he couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

“What’s with the helmet?” Johan asked. “We turned off the security cameras. There’s no reason to hide your identity.”

The girl didn’t reply at first, tension practically radiating from her.

“I’m Johan. This is Samuel and Randel,” he said, gesturing to the other Jotnar members. “And up ahead is the Boss. He doesn’t need any other name.”

“Yareli,” the biker girl hesitated before continuing. “I’m not very attractive. Terrible scars. It scares people.”

“Really?” Johan’s eyes widened.

“It can’t be that bad!” Samuel rolled his eyes. “From your voice, I can tell you’re a real babe!”

“Or you have something to hide,” Randel said, narrowing his eyes. “Something’s not right about you.”

“We’re allies. Isn’t that enough?” Yareli said stiffly.

“You saved our lives,” the Boss said. “I appreciate that. Few people stick their noses out for a stranger. You could have stayed hidden and retrieved that data later.”

Yareli shook her head. “And allow Ymir to commit murder? Never.”

On the streets, such selflessness often got you killed. Yet Johan couldn’t help but be grateful for the timely intervention.

They turned another corner—then stopped cold.

A single man blocked their path.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the newcomer said, his voice carrying a hard-to-place accent. Italian, maybe? He wore his messy brown mop of hair in a ponytail and grinned at them with a predatory smile.

“Out of the way.” The Boss pointed his weapon at the man.

For some reason, the Ymir thug carried no weapons. Did he seriously expect to stop several armed men with his fists? Was he crazy?

Johan noticed a strange silver armband on the man’s wrist, a narrow slot at the top. The thug’s grin widened as he pulled a small metallic disc from his suit.

Yareli jerked in surprise. “That looks like my pendant!”

Johan realized she was right. The two objects were nearly identical, except for the different rune patterns etched onto them.

“You should provide useful combat data,” the man said.

He pressed the disc, which clicked open, shifting into a key-like shape. A glowing image of a bear appeared on its surface.

“Terrorize.”

Sparks cascaded from the armband as the Ymir thug jammed the device into the slot.

“What the—?”

Sensing danger, the Boss opened fire—but it was too late.

The man’s face elongated, stretching into a gruesome, fearsome muzzle lined with jagged teeth. Brown, shaggy fur erupted across his body, more like bristling needles than hair. His fingers stretched, claws extending into jagged, meter-long blades that tore deep rivulets into the pavement.

Johan took an involuntary step back, heart hammering in his chest.

“What the hell!” Johan stumbled back, his breath hitching in sheer terror. Despite firing mid-transformation, the Boss’s bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the creature’s armor-like fur.

“Impossible!” Yareli gasped, her voice laced with disbelief.

“Kill him!” The Boss’s voice wavered, but his eyes remained sharp with determination.

Johan’s hands trembled, too paralyzed to fire, but his comrades snapped out of their stupor and unloaded their magazines into the beast.

The bullets were useless. They bounced off like pebbles, failing even to slow the creature down. With inhuman speed, the monster swung a massive claw, slamming the Boss against the wall. Cement cracked on impact. Blood dribbled from the Jotnar leader’s mouth as he weakly lifted his gun, pressing it point-blank against the monster’s eye. He fired.

The creature snarled but didn’t flinch. The bullet dropped harmlessly to the floor with a soft clang. A cruel laugh rumbled from its chest before it grabbed the Boss’s head and smashed it against the wall. His body collapsed in a lifeless heap.

“Boss!” Johan’s stomach dropped as horror flooded his veins.

“Bastard!” Randel lunged at the creature’s arm, desperately clawing at the strange armband. If they could rip it off—maybe, just maybe—they could end this nightmare.

But the device wouldn’t budge. The monster grinned, tightening its grip around Randel’s skull.

Snap.

Randel’s lifeless body hit the floor with a dull thud, his duffle bag spilling open. The stolen belt tumbled out—the very device they’d risked everything to steal. The price had been far too high.

Johan turned to flee, but a wall of armed guards had already cut off their escape. Their smug expressions made it clear—they were enjoying the show.

“There’s no way out!” Samuel rasped, panic rising in his voice.

“I don’t know!” Johan’s breath came fast and shallow. This was it. They were going to die.

“I won’t let you hurt them!”

Yareli moved like a blur, leaping onto the beast in a desperate attempt to restrain it. “Run! I’ll keep it busy!”

“But—”

“Go!”

Johan hesitated for a fraction of a second too long. The creature flicked its arm, sending Yareli flying into a concrete wall. Her helmet cracked off on impact, skidding across the floor.

And then everything stopped.

Johan’s blood ran cold.

Yareli had no face.

No skin.

No flesh.

Where there should have been a human, there was only a bare, grinning skull.

Silence gripped the room. Even the monster faltered, its expression twisted in shock.

Johan’s mind reeled. How is this possible?!

Yareli’s skull turned, eye sockets scanning the room as if looking for an exit. But there was none. More guards had appeared, sealing off every path.

Her gaze dropped to her pendant—then to the stolen belt lying mere feet away.

“What the hell,” she muttered.

In one swift motion, she grabbed the belt and strapped it around her waist.

The bear monster’s stunned expression twisted into amusement. “Ha! Pointless! No one can use the Ragnadriver. And you don’t even have an Uhyre Key to activate it!”

“Wrong.” Yareli’s voice brightened with something new—something dangerous.

She tore the pendant from her neck, pressed it open, and revealed a gleaming wolf emblem within.

“Henshin.”

She slammed the pendant into the belt buckle.

The Ragnadriver roared to life. Ancient runes blazed red-hot as the buckle split open, revealing a blood-red gem pulsing with the image of a snarling wolf.

A brilliant white light engulfed Yareli.

Johan shielded his eyes as bluish-gray armor solidified over her skeletal frame. The plating formed a sharp, angular design resembling fur. Gauntlets snapped into place, their fingertips extending into razor-edged claws. A helmet locked over her skull, its lupine visage fierce and unrelenting. Twin purple eyes ignited like burning embers.

The bear monster took an uneasy step back. “I-Impossible!”

Yareli flexed her fingers, examining her transformed body with a mixture of awe and certainty.

“I suppose I need a name,” she mused. Then, she looked up, her glowing eyes locking onto her enemy.

“Call me Kamen Rider Fenrir.”

[jonathanvik]

New story! Kamen Rider Fenrir

Summary:

Bifrost is a high-tech marvel, the culmination of the world's greatest minds to create the city of the future. It is an artificial city that bridges two entire continents across the Atlantic Ocean. It was promised it'd be the perfect city, free of pollution and crime. But reality isn't so simple.

In the rundown, dilapidated backstreets of Bifrost, gangs run rampant. Some are forced to join them just to survive. Others, like Johan, join for the thrill of action. And today, his gang, the Jotnar, is assigned a job—to rob a mysterious lab owned by the multibillion-dollar megacorporation Ymir Industries and steal a prototype belt with unknown power.

What seemed like a simple in-and-out job turns dire when a Ymir thug reveals a mysterious armband that transforms him into a monster. The Jotnar are helpless against the slaughter. But then, a mysterious girl wearing a biker suit comes to their rescue, using the belt to transform into a masked hero.

"Henshin! Kamen Rider Fenrir!"

---

Background from Connor Fisher

Art done by commission by RiceDeclined. Check them out. They do great art.

[jonathanvik]

Luyten V - Chapter 21

“I was right!” Major Blaauw said, gesturing wildly. He was so animated, Sandage feared the older man would keel over from excitement. They watched the prince exchange words with President Okona, their tone pleasant and cordial. These were an excellent first step in their species’ relationship.

Still, what about the other world leaders? Sandage doubted Russia would be happy to learn that the USA had allied with the Kristra Republic before them. Heck, this discovery would upend everything humanity understood about the universe overnight.

“But what else is new?” Sandage thought dryly. Normality had died execution-style when the Altair had appeared. “No, correction—when Rose used time travel to help her past self.”

“They have a republic, yet have a king?” Major Blaauw said. “Can’t say I’m fond of that.”

“Apparently, the Kristra Republic has a parliamentary system, though their royalty still hold considerable power and influence.” Sandage replied.

Major Blaauw’s withered hand stroked his chin. “I’m wondering if Prince Imrele is authorized to even make this meeting.”

“You’re thinking this is a rogue action?” Sandage whispered, making sure the Eleim guards couldn’t hear them. Their armored figures stood at attention nearby, but their postures were relaxed. He wasn’t sure they understood English.

“Something smells fishy about this. I’ve worked among the government and military for decades, and this doesn’t feel official to me. Imrele Aindreit might be a prince, but where does he stand among his family?”

“Oh, dear.” Sandage rubbed the nape of his neck. This complicated things. Prince Imrele might be promising things he couldn’t quite deliver. Still, they’d made first contact. It was a start.

“Cool armor, huh?” Gamow said, walking over. “I’m curious how they appear underneath? I think I see some females among the prince’s retinue. Think they’re real babes?”

Sandage grinned, amused. “Apparently, their planet’s atmosphere differs greatly from Earth’s—hotter, for one. They can survive on Earth, but not comfortably. The prince promised he’d show his face at the official press conference at the UN. He wishes for humanity to view the Eleim race at once.”

“Look forward to it, then.” Gamow beamed.

Sandage nodded. While somewhat theatrical, it was appropriate considering the circumstances. First impressions were important. So much could go terribly wrong.

“Agent Sandage.” The president extended a hand as he walked over. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally. I have heard good things about you.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” Sandage said, clasping hands.

“No, I mean it. You conducted yourself well during our first contact with the Eleim people. It impressed me. Your contribution to history won’t be forgotten.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sandage felt embarrassed, despite himself. 

“Though, I haven’t forgotten my original reason for coming here. Would you do the honor of showing me where Rose Brahe is sleeping? Prince Imrele is also curious about meeting her.” The president said.

“Yes, President Okona has told me about her condition. Unfortunate for someone so young. My medic, Phosa, can assess her condition.”

An Eleim wearing red and orange battle-worn armor stood at attention. In her armored hands, she some kit Sandage assumed was a medical kit. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises, though. Doctor Dhierryn in our med bay can conduct the full analysis, but I can at least assess the infection afflicting her. I have experience with alien diseases.”

“We appreciated your help” Sandage said with feeling. 

“Though, is it true that this young human has been fighting the alien invaders?” Prince Imrele tilted his head, curious.

“Don’t let her young age fool you, your majesty. She has fought hard to protect our planet,” Sandage replied.

“But why burden someone so young?” Prince Imrele asked.

Sandage released a bone-weary sigh. “It’s a long story. Follow me.” His heart beat fast, thudding hard in his chest. Could this be the breakthrough they needed to save Rose?

“This is the patient?” Medic Petrus pulled out a mechanical device from her kit and waved it over the comatose Rose. Sandage gave an involuntary wince when he caught sight of Rose’s condition. The purplish blight had grown farther, almost covering her entire torso.

The prince gasped when he saw the infection tormenting Rose. “The Altair infected her with this?”

“Yes,” the president replied, his tone grim. “It’s a residue they leave behind on their victims. Their cells infect the host and eventually turn them into an Altair. Either that, or the host absorbs them and becomes stronger. We’ve had to burn contaminated spots to the rock to avoid it spreading. This is our enemy, Prince Imrele.”

“I see.” The alien prince was quiet before he spoke again. “Medic Petrus, report.”

Behind his faceplate, the medic seemed flummoxed. “Sir, I’ve served on many campaigns on alien worlds, but this is beyond anything I’ve encountered. Doctor Dhierryn needs to see this.”

“I’m not surprised. The Altair are beings beyond our universe.” Behind his mask, Sandage saw fear on the prince’s face. But it disappeared a moment later, replaced with calm detachment. 

“May I get a sample?” Medic Petrus asked.

“Certainly,” the nurse said. “Be careful with it. The Altair cells attack anything organic.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. We’ve worked hard to contain it out of fear of what might happen if it infects the nearest biome.” President Okona said.

“It seems there’s much about this new enemy we don’t understand,” Prince Imrele said. “Father needs to know about this.”

“I would like to meet him,” President Okona said. “Give him my greetings when you next see him.”

“Can you contact him from Earth?” Sandage asked, trying to gleam some details about Eleim’s technology. “Your planet’s a great distance from here.”

“It’s no problem,” Prince Imrele replied. “There are beacons in a nearby solar system to replay the message.”

“How far-reaching is your Republic?” Sandage asked. “It’s fascinating that your species has spread so far. The farthest we’ve sent a probe is our system’s furthest satellite, Pluto.”

“It extends through fourteen star systems,” the prince replied. “My great-grandfather was an ambitious man. Under his leadership, we colonized almost eighty planets or moons. Of course, we’ve grown since then.”

Sandage wondered if the Eleim ruffled any feathers with the local inhabitants of those systems, but kept quiet. While this current administration appeared benign, they’d only heard the Eleim’s side of the story.

“One problem at a time,” Sandage told himself. “The Altair first.”

“Thanks.” Medic Petrus accepted the sample offered by the nurse, placing it safely in a pouch on her suit. “I’ll be returning to the ship, prince.”

“Very good,” Prince Imrele nodded, allowing the medic to leave.

“The hour is getting late. Let’s continue this in the morning.” President Okona said, fighting back a yawn. Sandage looked at his watch, realizing the president was right. It was almost three in the morning. Had time flown that fast?

Before he could respond, the world shook beneath him. He stumbled, barely keeping his footing as a Secret Service officer helped him.

“What was that?” the president asked, alarmed. The building shook again, more violently this time—an explosion echoed in the distance.

“We’re under attack!” A soldier stumbled into the room. “It’s the Altair!”

---

“Gah!” Cecilia yelped, wincing as she struck something hard. She shook her head in disorientation, blinking her blurry eyes. “What the heck?”

Groggily, she pushed aside her covers and rose from the floor, only to stumble against her bed as the ground shook beneath her.

Any remnants of sleep evaporated as fear stabbed into her heart when she realized what was happening. “We’re under attack!”

When she stumbled out into the corridor, Cecilia found the LUVOLT base in utter disarray. People were rushing to their stations or to safety. The sounds of explosions and gunfire echoed in the distance. It was pandemonium.

She needed to get to the bunker. It stood several hundred feet underground, strong enough with withstand bombardment of a hundred missiles. Others had a similar idea, rushing in the same direction.

“Cecilia!” A voice stopped her, and she turned to find Petrus holding a laptop. On its screen, Macauley appeared, wearing a dainty blue nightcap with midnight stars. 

While her first instinct was to ignore them, a nagging question stopped her. “Why are you wearing a nightcap? You don’t sleep!”

“Huh?” the vTuber replied. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“Because you’re a digital being?!” Cecilia snapped, her patience fraying.

“Never mind about that. We need to get to Rose!” Macauley replied.

“Huh? Why? You want to try your crazy plan now?” Cecilia said, incredulous. “Let the Eleim handle it. They probably have the technology to beat the Altair.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

Cecilia hesitated. “Maybe?”

“There’s no time to argue. We must get Rose into the Luyten V, now,” Macauley said.

Emotions warred within Cecilia, unsure if she should trust this enigmatic alien. Macauley had done nothing but evade direct answers so far. The building rumbled as it took another direct hit, the sound of rending metal screeching through the air. 

“Fine,” Cecilia bit out. “Lead the way.”

They fought against the crowd as they headed to the medical bay. Her guardian, Doctor Blaauw, called her name as they retreated through the halls, but they ignored her. Cecilia’s breath was ragged as they rushed through the med bay doors.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be here!” the acting nurse said. “Head to the bunker right now.”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t,” Macauley replied. “We must get Rose to the hangar immediately.”

“Huh?” The nurse blinked, staring at the digital being on the screen in utter bafflement.

Cecilia ignored them both, trying to open the quarantine chamber holding Rose. A muttered curse escaped her lips when she found it locked. They didn’t have time for this.

“Hey, leave that alone!” the nurse cried, regaining her wits. “It’s dangerous!”

“But we have to get Rose to the Luyten V! It’s the only way to save her!” Cecilia insisted, frustrated.

“You’re talking about the plan Director Shapley proposed?” the nurse furrowed her brow.

“It was mine, actually, but yes,” Macauley replied.

“In this crisis?” the nurse said, incredulous.

“We must! Someone needs to fight the Altair!” Cecilia argued. It was wishful thinking, but she was desperate to save her friend.

Indecision wracked the nurse’s features. She saw the earnestness in Cecilia’s eyes and understood just how little chance humanity stood without the Luyten V. “I’ll contact the director.” She pulled out her phone.

“No need. I’m authorizing it,” President Okona said, startling everyone in the room.

“President Okona! You shouldn’t be here either!” the nurse said, surprised.

“I know, but the path to the bunker was just destroyed,” the president replied. “I was in the hall when I overheard your conversation. You’re a brave young lady to rush to your friend’s aid in such a crisis.”

“Well…” Cecilia blushed, lost for words.

“Macauley, you’re certain this will cure Rose of the Altair infection?” The president stared at the digital alien, his tone deadly serious.

“I am,” Macauley replied with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“That’s good enough for me. Nurse, unlock the quarantine chamber,” President Okona ordered the nurse.

“Right away, sir!” The nurse nodded, pulling out a collection of keys from her pocket.

“Now the only problem is carrying her there safely,” Petrus said. The purple growth had spread to envelop Rose’s entire middle, and left arm. It’d be too easy to touch it accidentally and get infected.

But the nurse already had an idea, rushing over to a nearby locker. “We have a hazmat suit you can use.”

“Here.” Petrus handed Cecilia his laptop before grabbing the offered suit. With the nurse’s help, he hastily slipped it on.

“Why do I have to hold this?” Cecilia said, ready to close the laptop and silence Macauley’s annoying voice.

“Because you’ll need me to start Full Synchronization Mode,” Macauley replied. Cecilia grumbled, but accepted her logic. 

They fought past people as they rushed toward their destination, cursing when they found their path blocked by debris. Part of the ceiling had caved in. Cecilia winced as the building rocked again. The fighting outside was getting more intense.

Thankfully, she knew the LUVOLT base like the back of her hand and took another path through the mess hall. Late-night meals sat on tables, abandoned in people’s rush to safety.

“Found you,” Sandage said, catching up to them. “You need to evacuate with the others.”

“What’s going on outside?” Petrus asked, wheezing for breath.

“The army is holding off two Altair while the Eleim get ready,” Sandage replied.

“Wait, two Altair?” Cecilia said, alarmed.

“Three, actually,” Sandage corrected grimly. “The third is attacking the Eleim ship.”

“What?!”

“That’s what the prince told me. The Eleim space cars are keeping the Altair busy until reinforcements arrive,” Sandage explained. “Their lasers are inflicting some damage, but it’s mostly just annoying them. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not even going to ask why Petrus is carrying Rose. We needed to get to the research lab. It’s the sturdiest place in the building.”

“Never mind about that,” Cecilia interjected. “We’re doing Macauley’s plan! The president told us to.”

“Okay.” Much to Cecilia’s astonishment, the LUVOLT agent accepted this absurd statement at face value. “This way.”

“What’s this about a plan?” Prince Imrele appeared from around a corner, flanked by his retinue of three guards. “Isn’t that Rose? Shouldn’t she be in quarantine?”

“Prince Imrele! You shouldn’t be here!” Sandage said. “You should be in the bunker!”

“We planned to, but the roof exploded. It’s buried under rubble. I figured it’d be best to stay with you until my forces defeat the Altair.” While fraught with tension, he seemed convinced his people would prevail against the Altair attackers.

“Stay close, then. There’s no time to explain.” After running past another corridor, Sandage threw open the hangar’s door and guided them inside. With deft fingers, he operated the controls to unlock the restraints holding the Luyten V in place for routine maintenance. They began to unclamp the robot’s limbs, but the process would take time.

“This is the Luyten V?” Prince Imrele said, impressed.

“Open up, you bucket of bolts!” Cecilia yelled, rushing over to the giant robot.

“Not so fast!” Petrus said, huffing as he joined her. Rose bounced on his back as he ran. “I’m not so young anymore!”

But Luyten V refused to acknowledge them, staying put. Despite the sounds of battle outside, the robot seemed completely uninterested. Cecilia gestured wildly at Rose, but still got no response.

“It’s the coma,” Macauley said. “With her brainwaves so faint, Luyten V can’t detect them.”

“Now what?” Cecilia glared at the figure within the computer screen.

“This is a pickle,” Macauley said, stroking her chin. “Honestly, I didn’t think we’d get this far.”

“What?!” Cecilia said, outraged. 

“We might be able to assist here,” Prince Imrele said. “Deklu?”

“I’m on it.” One of the guards pulled out a piece of tech from his pack. “Can you connect to its systems from the outside?”

“Yes, for basic maintenance and system testing, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Sandage replied. “Luyten V doesn’t like it when people mess with its system.”

Cecilia had to agree. In her opinion, the temperamental robot only tolerated other people doing basic maintenance on it for Rose’s sake. 

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” Deklu replied, attaching a wire to a port on Luyten V’s leg that Sandage indicated.

“Won’t there be wetware issues?” Petrus adjusted his glasses. “This is alien tech we’re talking about here.”

The tech turned smug. “This program can connect to any operating system. And this robot’s OS is hundreds of years out of date. Cracking it will be simple.”

“Sure.” But Cecilia didn’t appreciate the attitude. They couldn’t help that humanity was still primitive.

“I’m in. That was easier than I expected,” Deklu said, not hiding his evident satisfaction. “Let’s see. Hello?” Behind his armored mask, the Eleim was clearly furrowing his brow. “Odd. I’ve never seen an operating system like this before. Whatever. Found it. Opening the hatch now.”

They waited with bated breath, but moments passed and nothing happened.

“Tech Deklu?” Prince Imrele asked.

“I… Let me try again.” The tech grunted in frustration as he got the same result. “Why isn’t it listening? There’s no security protecting this feature. Fine. I’ll just take control of its higher functions.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cecilia said, tensing up.

“Let’s try waking up Rose instead.” Sandage said. “Do you have any stimulants? It’s not ideal, but time is short.”

“No, I got this!” Deklu said, furiously tapping at his keyboard. It was like a human one, but used alien symbols Cecilia couldn’t begin to decipher. “Got it! Now open, you stupid thing.”

Cecilia tensed as Luyten V turning to face them, eyes glowing crimson. Its usually fearsome features became even more terrible as it glared them down. Metal screeched as it tore free of its restraints.

“That’s one way, I suppose,” Sandage said dryly.

“What the? It’s not listening to me!” Deklu yelle in borderline panic.

They all backed away as Luyten V stood to its full height, glaring balefully down at them. It seemed to say they weren’t welcome. Cecilia shrieked in terror as the giant metal fist flew at them, eager to crush the annoying interlopers.

[jonathanvik]

Krisis - Chapter 12

Jafia smiled as she approached her apartment building, pleased with how well her encounter with Rocke and his cohorts had gone. The hour was late, the sun touching the far reaches of the horizon. Red light spilled through the crystal streetlights, a dazzling array of color illuminating the late night streets. 

While not as lavish as Rocke’s old building—it didn’t have a freaking shopping center and water park under it—her place was nicer than most buildings in her home country of Vladus.

Since their last war, her country had fallen into disrepair, while the UOP had gotten fatter and richer. Jafia had experienced those hard times in an orphanage, watching as Vanderfall struggled to regain its footing. The UOP had forced harsh repercussions on her country, even though they’d started the war. These outrageous payments had stunted Vanderfall’s economy, causing many of its cities to fall into decay. But the Vanderfall people were resilient. They would survive.

“Hello, Jafia,” one of her neighbors said, walking past with his four dogs. They barked and growled at her, warning her away. She’d never been popular with animals.

“Hello, Fran.” Jafia offered him a slight nod before continuing forward. If she recalled, he worked as a researcher for some tech company. He smiled at her flirtatiously, but she ignored him. 

It was a far cry from Rocke, who’d just barely mustered the courage to ask her out. And on a whim, she’d accepted. Jafia marveled at how much she’d enjoyed their time together, looking back. Her mood dampened as she approached her front door, grabbing her keys. Jafia knew that there wasn’t any possibility they’d share a life together. They led too different lives. And Rocke wouldn’t appreciate learning she was a spy. But such was life.

She paused as her keys touched the door’s bolt lock, a cough catching her attention. She froze as someone appeared around the corner, his bulk filling the hallway.

“Excuse me. I’d like a quick word,” Police Chief Rolf said, arms crossed. With a tilt of his head, he gestured for her to invite him inside.

Inwardly, her heart raced a mile a minute, but her outward expression remained calm—though fraught with some tension. It’d draw suspicion if she’d acted too calm. “Of course. Come inside, officer. Rolf, right? The Chief of Police? May I ask what this is about?”

“Good memory. I just have a few questions. Routine. Nothing to worry about.” Jafia didn’t buy the police chief’s words for a second.

“Okay.” And they both stepped inside.

As usual, her apartment was pristine and neat, a habit she’d kept even in her orphanage days. For whatever reason, she couldn’t stand untidiness. It was a modestly sized apartment, ideal for a single college-aged student.

“Nice place,” Chief Rolf said before planting himself on her couch. His massive bulk made it creak, almost filling it completely.

While only a temporary home, she’d given it plenty of personal effects. Books filled two shelves lining a wall, each categorized by the author’s name. Some were fictional or scientific, but most dealt with her college profession. Cute little knickknacks of deer sat on shelves, and even a life-sized plushie of one sat in a corner. Jafia filled her apartment with character, so she didn’t appear like someone who could abandon their life at a moment’s notice, lest she give the impression she was a serial killer or something. While painful, she’d leave everything if necessary.

Daintily, she placed herself on a rocking chair she’d purchased at a secondhand store. “How may I help you?”

“Is it true you know a Rocke Ralss?” Rolf asked, throwing a surprising curveball in his opening gambit.

“Yes, we used to date,” Jafia replied, appearing ruffled. “We split a few days before the unfortunate murder business.”

“Is that right?” Rolf’s expression turned thoughtful before he continued. “And you haven’t seen him since?”

“Once. I visited him in prison,” Jafia admitted. She couldn’t risk getting caught in a simple lie. She knew Police Chief Rolf’s reputation. One careless word might reveal more than she’d intended. “Despite our split, we’re still friends. I wanted to check on him.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that your ex is a murderer and a traitor to his country?”

More hardball questions, huh? Chief Rolf did nothing by half-measures. “While I don’t approve of his actions, I can’t find it in myself to hate him, despite his crimes.”

The police chief nodded in understanding. “And have you seen him after he escaped prison? I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

“No, I haven’t. I’ve been worrying about him, but we haven’t made any contact.”

“Really?” Rolf raised a skeptical eyebrow. “May I ask why I found his things stashed in your car?”

Jafia tensed and cursed her stupidity. She should have hidden them better. If only she hadn’t chosen to walk today, Rolf might not have snooped around her car.

“Sentimental, I suppose,” Jafia said wistfully. “I wanted to hold them until Rocke got out of prison.”

“Really? The charges were serious. The prosecution was pushing for the death penalty.”

“Hopeful thinking.”

Chief Rolf snorted. “What about your job at the Defense Ministry?” he asked, changing the subject. “Tell me about that.”

“There’s not much to tell. I worked there for about a week before quitting. I didn’t like it there. And after the Minister’s accident? I just couldn’t stay. I tried the Mayor’s office instead, though without success.”

“Yes, I recall you have an impressive résumé. But what if I told you Minister Loffie’s death wasn’t an accident? But murder?”

Jafia widened her eyes, faking the right level of shock. “No!”

“Yes. So I’d be very careful with your answers, young lady,” Rolf said, danger creeping into his voice. “What were you doing before his murder?”

But Jafia had already prepared an answer for just such a likelihood. “There’s little to tell. We were planning for a ball for Minister Loffie’s birthday. As a minor member of the secretarial staff, I helped with the preparations. I don’t recall even seeing Minister Loffie during those two days.”

“And the day before his death? The butler told me you weren’t happy with the third hall’s cleanliness. You worked the staff late into the night.”

Jafia chuckled slightly. “I suppose I did. This was my first job after college. I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Did you leave at any point during your late-night cleaning escapade?”

“Maybe?” Jafia made a thoughtful expression, like she was remembering a half-forgotten memory. “I may have visited the restroom once or twice. Otherwise, I stayed with the staff to make sure everything ran smoothly.”

Rolf studied her, scrutinizing every pore on her face. It raised Jafia’s hackles, allowing some genuine fear to show.

“And the day of the murder?”

“That I can’t recall well. It was so hectic, it’s hard to remember much, especially after the Minister’s accident. I only learned about what happened when some EMTs rushed into the building.”

“Very well,” Rolf said, his stony expression giving nothing away. But Jafia got the impression she hadn't entirely fooled him. He’d be back. “If you remember anything else, call me.” He placed his business card on her coffee table.

“Good luck with your investigation,” Jafia said, watching the police chief’s back as he left.

“Wonderful.” She rubbed her temple. This complicated matters.

Well, whatever. This was why Vladus’s intelligence service hired her as a spy. She’d needed to be more careful.

This was only a minor setback. After plopping herself into the seat of her computer desk, Jafia booted up her terminal. Through a secure channel, she checked her messages from various contacts. They were simple, incongruous messages that would seem innocent enough to casual viewers, but each hid a special meaning within. There held nothing too exciting, only routine reports. 

Jafia reached out to her various contacts about suspicious activity within Vladus’s government. A light flashed in her head, an idea striking her. To enact Sunbearer’s insane plan, he’d require more than military support. 

Her police contact replied minutes later, Jafia’s heart beating fast with excitement as she read the message. 

“I’ll be damned. The prophet was right.” Whether it was through a genuine divine intervention or just a coincidence, Jafia wasn’t certain, but everything he’d predicted was true. No, it went further than that, Sunbearer’s crimes even more appalling than Jafia had given him credit for. He wanted to oust everyone in the slums, regardless of race. 

Her contact’s document detailed a plan for an operation called Protect: Ugly Duckling. Rocke needed to know about it, though she’d need to concoct an appropriate lie about how she’d acquired this information. 

“That confirms it. Time for the death blow.” A faint smile grew across Jafia’s lips, reaching out to various contacts. She was about to make Sunbearer’s day tomorrow a rather unpleasant one. 

---

Sunbearer flicked his fingers to the beat of the tune, smiling to himself. He sipped at his morning tea, its rich flavor energizing him.

The orchestra’s violinists flittered like birds in flight, dancing in the springtime breeze. Everything was right with the world. He was its master, and none dared oppose him. The new day’s sun streamed through the window of his parlor, bright and invigorating.

“Sir,” Flash, his butler, said. “I have some dire news.” He seemed agitated, twitching in his distress.

“Out with it, man,” Sunbearer replied, annoyed. If Flash had bad news, better he spill it now. “What’s the matter? Are the committee members complaining again about lack of funding? I’ve told them their pet projects won’t get my support unless they give me a good reason.”

Each one, while ambitious, wasted valuable tax money. He didn’t want to fund any random city project unless it proved to him it’d be worth it. Parks were fine, but full-sized statues of the council members seemed excessive. They tried to flatter him by offering him the most prestigious statue, one fashioned from the richest gemstones. But he’d rejected it, finding it beyond gaudy. He was a public servant, not a king. History would remember him for his deeds, not some fancy statue.

After gathering his courage, Flash raised a withered finger, aged from years of dedicated work. “It’s best I show you.” He presented a tablet, and Sunbearer dropped his favorite teacup with trembling fingers as he read the news app front page. The cup smashed against the tilted floor, an amber liquid pooling under his shoes.

“What?!” How could it have leaked? He’d trusted the truth only a select few! This shouldn’t have happened! Heads would roll for this!

The outcry was loud and violent as people protested the slums inhabitants being tossed from the city, decrying it as inhumane. Workers had taken to the streets, demanding answers. It was pandemonium. He opened his messages and saw thousands addressed to him, pleading for confirmation of the recent troubling rumors.

“Why am I learning about this now?” Sunbearer said, barely restraining his temper.

“I thought you needed a spot of tea before jumping into this mess,” Flash replied, dutiful as ever.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” His butler was always too kind. Besides, Flash wasn’t the real problem. Before he addressed this mess, he’d destroy the person responsible for the leak. He left his butler to clean up the remains of his teacup while he made some calls.

“Sorry, Mayor Sunbearer, but I’m busy at the moment.” Chief Rolf’s words were barely audible over the tumult. It sounded like he was standing in the middle of the riot. The police chief had to shout over the curses and yells to be heard. 

“Chief Rolf. News of Project: Ugly Duckling has leaked. It’s even mentioned by name by its detractors,” Sunbearer said, his calm like a viper ready to strike its unsuspecting prey.

“I’m aware of that.”

“Few knew about the project. I thought I told you to keep it under wraps,” Sunbearer said. 

“And yet, it leaked. Don’t blame me. With such a radical project, leaks were bound to happen. Some moral protest, I imagine.” The police chief seemed completely unconcerned about the leak.

“The Konquellian remains at large? You still haven’t found Minister Loffie’s killer?”

When Rolf didn’t respond, Sunbearer almost exploded. “You haven’t, have you?”

“These things take time,” Rolf replied. “Stop bothering me. If you’ll excuse me, I have real problems to deal with.”

Before Sunbearer could offer any reply, the police chief hung up on him. His phone smashed against the tiled floor as he finally lost his temper. “Such insubordination! He’s not surviving to the next election.” In fact, the only thing saving Rolf’s life was the current crisis. Still, Sunbearer would deliver his vengeance soon enough.

But the man had a point. He’d solve the leak’s source later. Sunbearer dreaded facing the public. The leak of Project: Ugly Duckling might have caused a political death sentence. Still, if he worded it correctly, he might salvage the situation.

Before he could contact Flash for a new phone, a figure burst into his parlor. Sunbearer tensed—then relaxed when he saw the intruder’s identity.

“Prime Minister, I was just about to contact you. We have a major problem we need to discuss.”

“Major problem? That’s one way to describe it.” A hard line creased Lux Luciest’s usually handsome, flawless features. “When I said, ‘Do what you think is best,’ this wasn’t my intention.”

Sunbearer gave an indignant snort, puffing himself up. “I did. I wanted to save this city from that riffraff. Show the Demon’s their beloved prophecy had no place in fact.”

“That damn prophecy again.” Lux Luciest waved a hand in irritation. “It’s like a plague, infecting everyone who hears it. Even nations like Vanderfall and Durgan are whispering about it.”

“Wonderful.” So the delusion was spreading.

“And the worst part? Everyone thinks they must act on it, whether they believe it or not. That clerk is more devious than I credited him for.”

“So he made it up to cause chaos?” Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

“It doesn’t matter.” The Prime Minister planted himself on the nearest couch. “The damage is done, and we need to repair it.”

Lux Luciest gave Sunbearer a hard stare, his heart skipping a beat. It was like he’d entered a wolf’s den, and he was on the menu. “Do exactly as I say. Not a word to contradict it, understood?”

Sunbearer gave a muted nod, fidgeting as the Prime Minister’s glare intensified. It swore to cut him down dead if the slightest thing displaced his master.

“Good.” The Prime Minister readjusted his pristine white jacket. “We are going on live news in twenty minutes. I’ve already arranged it. During the interview, you will nod and smile and not speak a word. Do this, and you’ll keep your political career.”

“Okay.” Sunbearer replied, lost for words.

“Good man.” Lux Luciest stood and slapped Sunbearer on the shoulder genially. “We’ll get through this yet.”

“I hope so.” Sunbearer gave a weak smile, relieved he’d survived the Prime Minister’s wrath. It was an experience he hoped he’d never face again. And why should he worry? He didn’t doubt this news conference would smooth over the whole matter.

---

“Look at them.” Rocke marveled at the chaos before him as the endless sea of furious, scared people. Police stood guard to keep the peace, stoic behind their helmets. But even with their army of guard robots, it’d do little against such a mob. 

They listened to the turmoil as hundreds of Ottomon and menial workers protested violently, their anger a palpable force in the air. It was a torrent building to the point of bursting, threatening to drown everything. 

Some held signs, others held up their children, demanding who’d feed them without a job. Ottomon and OUP citizens joined hand in hand to protest their right to exist. Even people who didn’t live in slums had come out in droves in protest. If the rumors about the AI bots taking jobs were true, many would lose their livelihood. And what then? Would the jobless be forced from Vladus as well? News commentators were fearful of the domino effect of such a policy. Could mere AI bots replace an entire workforce?

From his vantage point on the roof, Matthias only shook his head. While his condition had improved, he still seemed pretty frail. “And so it begins. The fall of this city.”

“You think? After this outcry, surely the mayor will see sense and abandon his crazy plan.” Rocke figured it’d be political suicide to continue now. It seemed he’d turned almost the entire city against him. 

His plan to force the slum population quietly from the city had failed. If Sunbearer had expected the OUP’s general antipathy towards the Ottomon to help him, he’d been mistaken. Race hardly mattered when faced with possible destitution. In fact, the mayor’s blatantly racist policy had earned many people’s sympathy. This wasn’t quite what Rocke had intended, but he hoped it’d be the wake-up call the city needed.

Still, it puzzled him how news about Project: Ugly Duckling got leaked. Did someone intercept Jafia’s message? Rocke and his group had only planned to give the evidence to the media and force Sunbearer into a scandal he couldn’t survive. But somehow, the info had leaked across the entire city, lighting a fire of outrage in Vladus’ citizens. It was a miracle violence hadn’t broken out yet. It’d take only the slightest spark to send this mob into a frenzy.

“The Prime Minister is making an announcement!” someone said. This earned a chorus of equal parts jeers and cheers, people muttering to themselves what this meant. Lux Luciest was a popular figure among the people, and many wore hopeful smiles on some faces. On every viewscreen, Prime Minister Lux Luciest handsome, smiling face appeared. 

“Let’s see him talk his way out of this one,” Kallane said rather snidely.

“Hush,” Rocke said, not liking the rather disrespectful tone toward the leader of their great nation. Soon, he’d show how mistaken Sunbearer’s vile plan was and offer repentance to the people of the slums for such a plan against them.

“Hm.” Matthias only stroked his chin, his eyes intent on the nearest viewscreen.

“My friends. It deeply concerns me that the rumors circulating these last few hours would disturb you so.” As the Prime Minister spoke, Sunbearer stood on the sidelines so rigid, you’d almost mistake him for furniture.

“I hope to clear up the confusion and address any troubles the public might be having. First, the rumors are true. There will be massive deportations from our great city of Vladus!”

“Huh?” Rocke wasn’t the only person confused, others muttering to themselves, unsure they had heard their leader correctly. Some people looked ready to restart the riot anew, but Lux Luciest intercepted them with a raised hand.

“But it won’t be as you may fear. No! Soon, you will see the wisdom of Mayor Sunbearer’s plan, if you’ll bear with me for a few minutes.” The Prime Minister continued. “Long have we had an element among us that has only spread discord and outright crime in our community? We invited them into our community, our businesses, even our homes and hearts, but they have spurned us at every opportunity! Jealous of our prosperity, they lash out and seek to destroy everything they can’t have. Just a day ago, they led a protest that almost resulted in violence and hurt our citizens and brave members of our police force.”

“What?” What was the Prime Minister saying? He couldn’t be serious, right? Kallane  screamed in protest at the outright lies, but Rocke barely heard her.

“You know who I speak of—the Ottomon. Or, more rightfully called, the Demons,” Lux Luciest continued. “You’ve all seen it—how they hate us, how they despise us for not sharing their backward ways or worshiping their made-up god. They even have a crackpot telling people that if we don’t supplicate to them, we’ll get smited!”

“And frankly, I’ve had enough. We’ve all had enough. That’s why our dear, beloved Mayor Sunbearer devised Project Ugly Duckling. It’s an example to the rest of the OUP that we won’t stand by and let this degenerate rabble continue any longer. That they are no longer welcome in our fair city of Vladus.”

“No!” Rocke shook his head. He repeated the action like a malfunctioning automaton.

“No longer will the slums fester and pollute our city! No! Instead, they’ll be turned into new living places, a theme park, and other beautification projects. But don’t fear, my citizens. We will not evict the OUP’s true citizens. No, this is actually an opportunity! We will take care of everyone in the slums, giving them jobs to help with this worthy project.”

“We will bring these poor unfortunates under our wings and elevate them into the OUP’s loving embrace. But don’t fear—no one is losing their job. No one that doesn’t deserve it, anyway. Our mayor has cunningly devised a way to strengthen our workforce and make it more versatile. We will use AI bots for jobs beneath human dignity—the type usually given to lowlifes like Demons. This will provide a more robust, versatile workforce to serve the people. Better yet, this will improve pay by promoting workers to better, higher-paying jobs.”

“You hear that? New jobs!” a grumpy man said, excited. Other rioters seemed just as hopeful.

“I’ll admit, this won’t be an easy transition, but I promise you it will lead to a brighter, more prosperous future! Good day, my friends—the true citizens of the OUP.” A text scroll replaced the Prime Minister’s face, announcing that they’d provide further details soon.

“He can’t.” Rocke felt woozy, almost losing his balance.

Kallane uttered some unladylike oaths. “He threw us under the bus! Worse, he made us seem like subhuman trash!”

“Well, that’s that,” Matthias said, grimacing. “We’ve passed the point of no return.”

“It can’t be,” Rocke said, shaking his head. Below, rioters who had once been furious began celebrating, cheering their great leader. Happiness over their improved situation had supplanted their anger and outrage. The Ottomon among the crowd remained outraged but balked as their once-allies turned against them. Even from this distance, Rocke perceived the contempt in the workers’ eyes. They had found an easy target. With their livelihoods secure, why bother being friends?

Some started throwing rocks and bottles at the Ottomon, jeering and laughing at them. They made it clear the so-called Demons weren’t welcome in their company—or even the OUP. Some turned to actual violence. A group grabbed a nearby Ottomon man and laughing they began to beat him. Rocke could only watch in numb horror, helpless to do anything. They’d lost. They had failed to save Vladus’s soul, and now there would be consequences. And the Ottomon would suffer the most.

[jonathanvik]

Luyten V - Chapter 20

“This better be good!” Cecilia said, rubbing her arms for warmth. As usual, the Midwestern weather had taken a sudden, sharp turn into terrible. Along with Sandage, they stood waiting in an empty field on the outskirts of town. Wheat stalks waved in the sharp wind like swaying leaves.

“I’m rather excited myself,” Unlike her, the LUVOLT agent seemed unbothered by the cold. Unlike Cecilia’s more eastern roots, Sandage was born here. “Macauley sure knows how to make things interesting, huh?.”

“That’s one word for it,” Cecilia replied dryly. Ever since she’d entered their lives, the VTuber had turned them topsy-turvy.

After a couple of minutes, a familiar face appeared. The chubby man waved at them as he approached. “Hey!”

“Doctor Naboth. Any idea what your friend has planned?” Sandage asked.

“Can’t say I do. You know what Macauley’s like.” Petrus wore a backpack—a rather garish one, in Cecilia’s opinion, pink with smiling cartoon sunflowers. 

“That figures.” Was it because the alien distrusted people or just enjoyed messing with them?

The German scientist glanced at his watch. “You’re early. The rendezvous time is ten minutes.”

“I was curious who’d come first—us or Macauley’s mysterious surprise.” The LUVOLT agent glanced around. “Still no sign of it. This open field makes it difficult to approach unawares.”

“It’s probably some stupid prank,” Cecilia’s bad temper souring further as a sudden chilly wind struck her, grabbing herself tighter for warmth.

“We shall see,” Sandage said.

They waited in silence for whatever would happen next. Three minutes before the rendezvous time, Petrus’s phone buzzed.

“I see.” After checking the message he’d gotten, Petrus pulled out a laptop from his ugly backpack. When he opened it, Macauley’s bright smile greeted them. Her digital avatar winked at them, giving them an enthusiastic wave.

“Hello, all. I’m pleased you made it.” She seemed unbothered by Sandage’s presence, despite asking Cecilia to come alone.

“What’s this about, Macauley? What’s this surprise you mentioned?” Cecilia asked, getting to the point.

“Patience! They haven’t arrived yet. I hope they come, at least,” Macauley replied.

“What?” What was the streamer babbling about?

Sandage only raised an eyebrow. “This grand meeting’s more a wish than reality?”

“Hope makes the world go round. They’ll come,” Macauley said, beaming.

“Unbelievable.” Cecilia mumbled to herself.

She peered around, but nobody made themselves apparent. If this mysterious party was supposed to come, they’d be here already.

This was a waste of time. Cecilia opened her mouth to say so, but flinched when a bright light blinded her. With only the moon illuminating the night, she’d gotten used to the darkness.

“What gives?” Cecilia said, squinting. She frowned. For whatever reason, the light was coming from above. A plane? She gasped as she glanced up at the object emitting the light.

“Just in time,” Macauley said, pleased.

“No way—impossible!” Cecilia’s mouth dropped open in utter astonishment.

“Fascinating.” With his open hand, the German scientist stroked his chin.

“That is something,” Sandage said, amazed. “I hope they are friendly.” His arm reached for his sidearm, ready for any danger that might crop up.

The ship that floated above them was unlike anything Cecilia had ever seen before, sleek in its appearance, almost bird-like. No, an aquatic creature would be a better description—a strange metal dolphin. The metal titan was huge, larger than a battleship. Its hull gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting off its scale-like surface. With surprising ease, the UFO landed in a nearby clearing with a gentle plop.

“Welcome to Earth,” Macauley said as a hatch on the ship’s side slid open.

Cecilia gasped as a figure walked down the landing ramp, recognizing it from anywhere. How could she not? She never forgot anything the Akashic Records told her.

“Greetings, representatives of the Planet Earth,” the masked figure said in a strange, lilting voice. He towered like a giant gazing down at children, standing over 8 feet tall. Gold and silver markings striped across one shoulder of his armor, a seven-sided star of interlocking lines, a mark displaying high rank. “We come in peace.”

Behind this person, guards in similar garb followed. Unlike their leader, the guards’ armor was rough and worn. While polished to a sheen, the evidence of battle was still apparent. Each wore a sidearm of futuristic design. Though alert, they kept their hands away from their weapons. Seeing no immediate danger, Sandage relaxed but remained watchful.

“Hello. My name is Agent Joe Sandage. I am an employee of the U.S. government. Despite my lack of diplomatic training, I will do my utmost to ensure your visit is treated with respect and honor.”

It impressed Cecilia that her friend could rattle off such an elegant greeting on such short notice.

“Well met, Agent Joe Sandage. My name is Prince Imrele Aindreit of the Kristra Republic,” the alien leader’s massive, metal hand enveloped her friend’s. “We are the Ectutai people. We hail from a system you call Tau Ceti.”

“A prince?” Cecilia said, gasping. She fretted, wondering if she should bow or something. What would happen if she disrespected a member of royalty? She’d ruin everything!

But a hand from Sandage steadied her. “Humanity welcomes you, Prince Imrele Aindreit. Our governments have much to discuss. Our races face grave danger from a mutual foe.”

“Yes, Macauley told me as much. We have detected spatial anomalies around your planet. Our scientists assumed they were experiments by your people, but Macauley has informed us differently,” the prince replied. “Where is this Macauley? He told us he’d meet us here.”

“Hello,” Macauley said from the computer screen, offering a friendly wave and a broad smile.

Behind his mask, Prince Imrele seemed to frown. “Is this some sort of digital avatar?”

“No, your Majesty. This is how I look,” Macauley replied cheerfully. “Consider me a digital guardian angel.”

“What?” This took the prince and his entourage completely by surprise. “Are you an AI?”

Sandage just sighed. “We have much to discuss. But would you like to talk somewhere more comfortable, your Majesty? We have a base nearby with more proper accommodations. Not pretty, mind you, but it should suffice. Or would you rather discuss this on your ship?”

The prince continued to stare at the figure beaming on the computer screen before he finally tore his eyes away. “A location of your choice would be perfect. I wish to see more of your planet. It’s intrigued me for years.”

“It has?” Cecilia blurted. Inwardly, she cursed herself for speaking out of turn.

The prince appeared unconcerned. “Yes, we have long known about Earth and humanity. Out of respect for your autonomy, we haven’t interfered. We Ectutai believe in self-determination.”

“Very kind of you, your Majesty,” Sandage replied. “Our history is sadly filled with incidents of governments meddling with weaker, less advanced ones for self-interest. The results were never pretty.”

The mask of Prince Imrele bobbed in agreement. “It has been a hard lesson our people have learned as well, Agent Sandage. Our species share much in common. But come, show me this base of yours.”

“They sure know a lot about us,” Cecilia whispered as they entered Sandage’s car. Behind them, the Ectutai used small car-like craft to follow.

“For quite some time, apparently.” Sandage replied. “Can’t say it makes me comfortable.”

“Can we trust them?” Cecilia asked.

“What do you think?” Sandage turned the question back on her.

“Um, well…” Cecilia floundered for a second, but soon regained her bearing. “They seem more straightforward than Macauley. I think we can.” Odd the Akashic Records showed her about the Ectutai exactly when they needed it. Almost like it’d done it on purpose. Which, of course, was total nonsense.

“You wound me,” Macauley said, startling her. Petrus and his laptop had entered the car’s back seat.

“Don’t you have your own vehicle? And who said you could come along?” Cecilia asked sourly.

“I’ll get it later. And miss this? Never!” The large man’s eyes were practically lighting up like fireworks in his eagerness.

“And I’m your key to getting into the LUVOLT base?” Sandage asked.

The once-disgraced scientist only shrugged. The agent shook his head, forlorn. “Very well. I’ll vouch for you, but you’re both making an account of yourselves. There will be a cost.”

“A cost?” This made Petrus suddenly nervous, tensing further as Sandage smiled like a shark at him.

“Anyway, that’s my guess too,” Sandage said, changing the subject. “Besides, we’ll need them to fight the Altair. Rose can’t fight them alone. ‘Enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ as they say. But I have a question for you, Macauley. How did you contact them?”

“Easy. I intercepted simple messages from them, and we’ve been chatting—though through very basic means. Basic mathematical principles. I was hoping to advance to more complicated methods of communication, but Rose’s increasingly critical condition made me do something more drastic. In every known human language, I sent a message laying out the entire Altair situation. I guessed they’d understand at least one.”

“And how long were you planning to keep your new friends to yourself?” Sandage asked dryly.

“Hold on. You weren’t even certain they’d answer?” Cecilia said, dumbstruck.

“It was a risk, but I’m persuasive. And I might have used technology a little beyond humanity’s current capability to further catch their interest. Still, the arrival of an actual prince surprised me. I was expecting some dull science types.”

Suddenly, Macauley cursed. “Dang it, I should have played some rock music. That’d really help the scene. Like that First Contact Star Trek movie. Live long and prosper?”

“What?” Cecilia replied, baffled.

“Yeah, it’s a shame the Ectutai don’t have a special handshake. But I think I’ll leave the first contact stuff to President Okona. It’s a nice coincidence he’s coming to town.” Sandage grabbed his phone and made a call. “And I really pray the media haven’t learned about the Ectutai’s spaceship yet. One leak and it’ll be chaos!” 

“I didn’t think of that.” If some radar or telescope caught the alien ship, they’d tell someone. Who knew how humanity would respond to their new cosmic neighbor?  

“Don’t use your phone while driving, please,” Macauley said.

“Too bad. You’re the one who threw this first contact bombshell on me,” Sandage snapped. “The director needs to know about this!”

“Touché,” Macauley replied. They listened as the agent rattled off the situation to his superior.

Sandage flinched, pulling his phone away as the person on the other end raised his voice. He reiterated his point, confirming everything he’d seen the last hour. After a quick conversation, Sandage hung up.

“Well?” Cecilia asked.

“The director isn’t happy, but he’ll do his best to accommodate our guests. Some good news,” Sandage replied. “The President is already in town, and he’s getting briefed on the situation. Director Shapley hopes he’ll be at the base before we arrive.”

“Ah.” Cecilia had noticed they’d missed a street that would have taken them directly to the base. “So we’re taking the long way.”

“Might as well show them around town first,” Sandage replied.

Cecilia hoped they wouldn’t draw too much attention. The nighttime streets held few drivers, but the strange, alien vehicles drew gawkers. People pulled out their phones, making videos of these strange crafts. 

In short order, they arrived at the base, where an impressive entourage awaited them. Soldiers stood at attention in formation, ready to receive their guests with respect and honor. Among them stood a familiar, dark-skinned man wearing a friendly smile.

The alien crafts came to a halt, and their group also stood to attention. Somehow, they recognized the person who greeted them.

“Hello, and welcome to Earth. My name is President William Okona, leader of the country you have graced with your visit. I hope this is the start of a new era for both our peoples.”

The president was surprisingly short in person, and the prince’s armor dwarfed him as he stepped forward. But the alien’s body language was friendly as the pair grasped hands, exchanging their greeting as equals. An electric tension hung in the air. A chill running down her spine, Cecilia feeling like she just witnessed history. Lights flashed as photographers captured the moment.

Not to be rude, the president approached Macauley and Petrus next, offering his hand to the overweight scientist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Doctor Petrus. I’ve seen your work. It’s a fantastic read.”

“Thank you,” the German scientist said, somewhat abashed. 

“And it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Macauley. I’ve heard much about you,” the president said, addressing the person on the computer screen. “Humanity owes you a debt for your assistance against the Altair threat.”

“A debt I’m glad to take. Humanity deserves it. The Altair are monsters that will destroy everything if not stopped,” Macauley said with surprising seriousness.

“That’s the history part taken care of,” Sandage said as the president ushered the prince inside. “Now it’s time for the dull, political, stuffy adult part.”

“Huh?”

“A meeting that will extend far past your bedtime, Cecilia,” Sandage said.

“But—!” They still hadn’t asked the Ectutai about a potential cure for Rose’s condition! And she had a million other questions.

“In due time, but some of us have school tomorrow,” Sandage replied.

“Fine,” Cecilia said sourly. She hated being treated like a child. And school—after all this?

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you the cliff notes,” Sandage said, fighting back a yawn. “You’re lucky. I’ll probably not get any sleep tonight.”

“Okay.” Cecilia said, admitting defeat. She fought back her own yawn. She guessed the night would be uneventful as the adults talked. 

“This marks a new beginning, a new era.” It was anyone’s guess what would happen next.

---

“Um, Tarazed,” Denebokab said with some trepidation. “What now? This changes everything!”

“Calm yourself. It changes nothing,” Tarazed replied. This unforeseen development, though unexpected, only proved a minor setback. Still, for alien visitors to appear at this junction was a troublesome bother.

“Who cares! We’ll just smash them too,” Tseen Foo said, pulling both arms over his head and yawning. “Let’s just rush in and obliterate them all! Problem solved.”

“Hold,” Tarazed growled, needing time to consider.

When President Okona had suddenly absconded from his hotel to visit the base holding Rose, the Red Devil, it had been a welcome change. But that he greeted previously unknown alien visitors upended the entire situation.

The Altair had assumed humanity was an isolated prey species with limited technological capabilities beyond the Red Devil. But these new creatures possessed space travel. Who knew what technological they might possess? These interlopers, though they would eventually fall like humanity, could become bothersome. These delegates seemed important, and their demise could summon their people’s wrath. Tarazed disliked so many uncertainties.

“We should attack!” Tseen Foo insisted. “They’re right there: the aliens, Rose, and the president. We’ll crush them in seconds! We have nothing to fear from these mongrels. Besides, these aliens’ technology doesn’t seem all that impressive!”

“Yes, but we don’t know how far-reaching their empire is,” Tarazed replied. And these alien interlopers might have other allies they could bring to bear. So much for their easy incursion into this universe.

“These humans are suspicious and distrustful people.” Tarazed thought out loud. “They love to squabble and backstab at every opportunity. There is no guarantee they’d even accept the help of these alien visitors.”

“No.” Either way, they still faced the same problem. These aliens were likely already aware of the Altair’s existence. The Grand Intelligence needed to be informed about this, but first, they’d gather intel on their new foe.

“Attack tonight,” Tarazed decided.

“Really?” Denebokab asked.

“Yes!” Tseen Foo almost jumped for joy.

“We will destroy Rose and President Okona if possible, but our primary objective is to test the weapon capabilities of this new enemy. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Retreat if necessary. Tseen Foo and Denebokab, attack from each end of the facility. I will locate and strike the alien ship. We move in four hours.”

These minor races always needed sleep—an easy weakness to exploit. Best to strike when they were at their least capable.

[jonathanvik]

Krisis - Chapter 11

“Into this parking lot, huh?” Jafia thought as she trailed her target. Rocke and his Ottomon friend had given her quite the runaround, but she’d kept up with them. More than once, they’d almost caught onto her, but she’d been nimble enough to avoid notice.

The lot housed an old electronics store. It had a sign boasting it could fix any device, no matter its age. Through a window, she saw devices she’d only seen in her grandfather’s house. One included an old-style TV from thirty years ago. Inexplicably, the display also included a washing machine, likely to enhance its advertisement’s boast. 

Outside stood a young Ottomon woman with sharp features. Her temperament revealed by a fiery countenance, but it softened when she spotted Rocke. Despite herself, a pang of jealousy struck Jafia, an idiotic, petty emotion. She’d purposely broken off with him because of the nature of her work. Heck, their short dalliance had been more of a whim on her part. Still, she supposed it didn’t mean she appreciated seeing Rocke with another woman.

“Find anything interesting?” Rocke asked as they approached the store.

“You took your time,” the young Ottomon said, somewhat annoyed.

“Hello, Maple!” an elderly man said, exiting the shop. Though hidden by wrinkles, his Ottomon tattoos were visible for all to see.

“Hello, Carkus,” the older Ottomon, Maple, replied. “I trust Kallane didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Come on, Mom,” Kallane said, rolling her eyes. “Be serious.”

This earned a chuckle from her mother. “I remember when you kicked a man for calling Carkus’s store nothing but a heap of junk.”

“Mom, I was eight!” Kallane said, flustered.

“She was a dear, as always,” Carkus said, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “But we did find something rather interesting.”

“Oh?” Rocke asked, intrigued.

“Get this��Tiertex just received a ginormous order on AI bots.” Kallane said.” I’m talking hundreds. An unknown backer purchased them anonymously. The dummy company that bought the robots is owned by City Commissioner Roth Rogan, Vladus’ strategic planner.”

“Why?” Rocke asked, curious. It piqued Jafia's interest as well, smelling a useful clue.

“I got thinking.” Kallane said. “While people often claim to the contrary, most of us Ottomon have jobs and work hard. If Sunbearer kicks our people from the city, someone must fill these now-vacant jobs. AI bots seem the best, cheapest way to fill those positions.”

“I suppose,” Rocke said, unnerved. “But I can’t imagine it’ll be an easy transition.”

“No doubt,” Kallane replied. “But it just goes to show you, Rocke. The Uppies will do anything to maintain their power, damn the consequences.”

“It’s starting to add up,” Maple said, her countenance stern. “The Mayor is planning something terrible.”

“Perhaps Counselor Rogan wants the AI bots for some construction project? We can’t dismiss the idea that they might have a more benign purpose,” Rocke argued back. “Still, it is curious.”

As usual, her ex was looking for the best, most generous answer, refusing to take the cynical view. While naïve, Jafia found it endearing. For her part, this unusual production of AI bots provided further evidence something was happening in the Mayor’s Office. While it seemed radical and reckless to expel the Ottomon from the city, still she wouldn’t put it past Sunbearer. He’d done something similar during the Califran occupation. 

“Still, it’s a tip worth looking into. With Carkus’s help, we should get some definitive answers,” Maple said. “Let’s move out and return to base.”

“Yeah, out here I feel exposed,” Rocke said with a shiver.

“I’ll keep looking at my end,” Carkus nodded. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“It was nice seeing you again, old friend,” Maple replied. “I hope we’ll see each other again. Stay safe—these are dangerous times.”

As they said their goodbyes, Jafia considered her next move. It’d be tricky, but she might “accidentally” bump into Rocke if she timed it right. Then it’d be elementary to integrate into their group. While Kallane seemed a tough prospect to win over, she’d convince them soon enough. Before she could slip away, a cold sweat traveled down Jafia’s spine as a knife slipped over her throat. A trickle of blood slid down her neck as it pricked her skin.

“Hold still,” a cold, accented voice said.

What? Where did this person come from? Why hadn’t she sensed his presence? From his accent, Jafia guessed her attacker was Konquellian. Still, who was this guy?

Much to her dismay, the altercation attracted the attention of Rocke and his friends. Inwardly, she sighed and got ready to smooth the situation over.

“Huh?” Rocke said, gapping at his ex in utter amazement.

“Who the heck are you?” Kallane said, her eyes full of distrust. She clenched her fist, and peered around, anticipating an attack at any moment.

“She was following us,” The Konquellian said in his broken version of their language.

“Really? Why are you here, Jafia?” While not suspicious, Rocke seemed more guarded.

“Hello, Rocke,” Jafia said, her tone innocent. She eyed the Konquellian standing over her with open fear, trying to win their sympathy. Her lip trembled. “I wanted to say hello. Who are these people, Rocke?”

“Huh? You know this person, Rocke?” Kallane asked.

“Yes, she’s my ex-girlfriend,” Rocke replied, and the others stared at him in utter befuddlement. Of the replies he could have given, that was the one they’d least expected.

“That’s right,” Jafia said, putting some indignation in her voice. “And who are you?”

“Ex-girlfriend?” Kallane said, shaking her head as if to clear it. But her confusion quickly returned to suspicion. “Why did you follow us instead of just talking to Rocke earlier? How long was she following us, Nitao?”

“Since the café,” he replied.

“Thought so,” Kallane said, pleased with her deduction.

“Rocke’s a wanted man. Obviously, I wanted to meet him somewhere a little more secure and private. I wanted to avoid drawing attention!” Jafia said, adding outrage to her voice.

“Is that right?” Maple said, her tone neutral. She eyed their captive with interest, giving nothing away. Unlike her daughter, the Ottomon woman was a tough customer. Behind her motherly, warm exterior, her eyes were hard, guarded. She’d be the harder to convince of the two.

“Gee, Jafia. You shouldn’t scare us like that!” Rocke said. “Please put the knife away, Nitao. She’s alright.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the Konquellian lowered his knife. In one slick motion, he returned it to its hiding spot. Whoever this guy was, Jafia was certain he’d had training. But that mystery could wait until later.

“Thank you,” Jafia said with a shaky voice.

“Wait, if you’re exes, why are you so happy to see Rocke again?” Kallane blurted. Was this girl incapable of restraining her tongue?

“What? I can’t be concerned for a friend?” Jafia said, adding steel to her voice. “And what about you? Do you nearly kill everyone that gets close to you?”

“Sorry about that, Jafia,” Rocke said. Much to Jafia’s satisfaction, he sounded embarrassed. “Things have been stressful lately.”

“Yeah, I overheard. You suspect Mayor Sunbearer is up to something?” Jafia asked, crossing her arms.

“Might be,” Rocke replied. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“What does it matter to you?” Kallane asked.

Before Jafia could reply, Rocke jumped to her defense. “Hey! Jafia is a good person. She’s always advocated that the Ottomon should be treated better!”

That wasn’t strictly true. She’d carefully kept her opinions to herself to avoid drawing attention. But she had vented to Rocke once or twice about her frustrations with his country. Much to her pleasure, it seemed they’d sunk in and caused him to rethink some of his worldviews.

“Wait, was it partly my fault Rocke killed Joven to defend the prophet Matthias?” Jafia thought. She questioned whether to feel guilty about that.

“And she can help!” Rocke said, a light flashing behind his eyes. “Jafia works for the Defense Department. She can uncover some clues about what’s happening.”

“Really?” Maple said, impressed.

“Actually...” It was Jafia’s turn to be embarrassed. “I don’t work for them anymore. I didn’t like the job, so I quit.” So much for her easy in. In retrospect, she shouldn’t have quit her job so quickly. But an idea struck her for how she might still prove useful to them. “I was considering working for the mayor’s office instead, but right now, that’s impossible.”

“Why?” Kallane asked.

“Sunbearer’s gone strange. He’s fired almost his entire staff, only keeping the people he considers most loyal. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve worked for him.” This caught their attention, and Jafia hid a smile.

“It’s a strange coincidence,” Rocke replied. “ Do you think he might be fearing reprisals for this plan?”

“Paranoia always runs deep in the UOP’s upper echelons. He probably fears Demon infiltrators or whatever,” Kallane replied.

“Another hint,” Maple said, rubbed her chin.

“Anything else, Jafia?” Rocke asked, hopeful.

In response, Jafia flinched. “No, that’s about it. But I’m still willing to help however I can. I refused to allow the UOP to hurt people.”

Kallane still seemed unconvinced, but Maple nodded. “Dear, I appreciate your help. You seem like a bright young lady.”

“I suppose it’s fine,” Kallane said, though she didn’t sound that enthusiastic. Was it because she didn’t want Rocke’s ex around? 

Still, she wasn’t confident if she’d actually won over Maple. Belying her overt friendliness, the older Ottomon woman remained wary. Jafia wasn’t sure if she’d convinced Nitao, either. He didn’t seem keen about her presence, either, but he wouldn’t complain.

“I’ll have to be very careful,” Jafia thought. Out loud, she said, “Tell me everything you can. Let’s talk in your vehicle, somewhere less open.”

Minutes later, the trio explained everything she’d already overheard as they drove through the city's backstreets. She was careful to remain both inquisitive and skeptical about their story, especially since their suspicions only came from a dream. The entire time, Jafia pondered ways she might help their cause. Halfway through their story, she settled on one.

“I quit my job, but I might still have some access to the network.” She’d had a decent position before she quit. “My password might still be good. I don’t think they’ve removed me from the system yet.” If not, she’d hack her way inside. Not that they needed to know that.

“It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try,” Maple replied. “Perhaps an old office colleague can help?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jafia replied with a nod, already forming some ideas.

“Removing every Ottomon from the city won’t be easy. The military must be involved somehow,” Rocke said. “But just be careful, okay? These people are ruthless.”

Despite herself, this earned a flush from Jafia. “I will.” This earned an annoyed huff from Kallane, who glared daggers at her.

“Whatever,” Jafia thought. The Ottomon girl’s petty jealousy didn’t concern her. Jafia smiled inwardly, pleased she’d infiltrated Rocke’s group. Still, she needed to determine the validity of their claims. If not, she’d still spread rumors about Mayor Sunbearer’s plan. Everything was coming together.

---

“Tell me about the Minister’s last days,” Rolf said, peering forward. His massive bulk immediately made the small man recoil in trepidation. The intimidation was intentional. He’d stand no lies from his witness.

“There isn’t much to tell,” the butler shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His name was Parce Brani, a recent hire in Minister Loffie’s household. “The days before the Minister’s accident seemed normal enough.”

The wiry man jumped as Rolf slammed a fist on the table between them. “Accident? Except that isn’t true. I have evidence Loffie’s death was intentional murder.”

“Surely not!”

“I’d be careful what you tell me, Brani. For all I know, you were involved. Someone tampered with the railing of the staircase. That’s why it broke under the Minister’s weight, and he plummeted to his death,” Rolf replied.

A silence passed as the wormy man gathered his thoughts. Rolf’s reputation preceded him. It would be beyond stupid to lie to him.

“Hmm. The day leading up to his death, we were planning for Minister Loffie’s birthday party. We were working hard to set up the ball he had planned. Shame. He died a day before his birthday. With everyone coming and going, it would be difficult to pinpoint the staff’s exact whereabouts.”

Yes, exactly as the killer wanted. Unfortunately, the household had dozens of new hires, particularly to help with the party. It’d take time to investigate each one. Still, Rolf was a patient hunter.

“Anything else?” Rolf gave the man sitting across from him a skeptical eyebrow. “You were in charge of the household, Mr. Brani. You might say you’re partially responsible for your master’s death.”

“Well, I…” The butler was lost for words. 

“And Mayor Sunbearer wants this case solved. What I see is a convenient suspect to pin the crime on.”

“No!” The man trembled with terror, knowing Rolf wasn’t joking. “I mean, I can help! There is one thing!”

“Oh?”

“I remember something I thought was odd. While new to the staff, I have an excellent memory for faces. And the day before the Minister’s death, one of the new secretaries, Jafia Kelvas, was dissatisfied with the third hall’s cleanliness. She ordered it to be scrubbed to a shine.”

“So?”

“It seemed clean enough to me, but I shrugged it off. She worked them to the bone, making the staff work deep into the night. Maybe it offered an opportunity to tamper with the railing?”

“Hmm.” It did offer a perfect opportunity to sneak away and do some mischief. “Anything else?”

“Kelvas was at the estate the day the Minister died,” the butler replied, brow furrowed. “Though it wasn’t her responsibility, she insisted on helping with the final preparations.”

“That should do. I will be in contact if I have further questions.” Without another word, Rolf vacated the interrogation room.

“Jafia Kelvas?” He recalled seeing the name on the staff roster. While the butler hadn’t given him anything substantial—Kelvas might have just been an overeager worker—still it was a lead worth investigating.

He checked his phone for any messages. Rolf sighed in annoyance when he saw the mayor had left him dozens of messages, no doubt to threaten him if Loffie’s case wasn't solved by tonight. With deft fingers, he deleted Sunbearer’s messages. But it reminded him of a more important case, and his phone rang as he called up his subordinate.

“Chief?” Halkken asked as he answered.

“Any updates on your progress?” Unlike Sunbearer, Rolf kept his tone civil. He knew rushing a case helped no one. Halkken would locate the culprit in his own time.

“One lead, it’s taking time. But I suspect we’ll find the right trail in the end.”

“No, we won’t!” Phú said, interrupting her partner. Her cartoon avatar appeared on his phone’s screen, filled with indignation. The lights of the twin sirens in her hair were blaring. “He’s got us on a wild goose chase. We’ve wasted the entire day wandering around the city!”

“We’re getting there,” Halkken said defensively. “Just be a little more patient.”

“Chief, did you know Halkken likes resorting to cranks?” Phú said, her tone vicious.

Immediately, Rolf knew who the AI was speaking about. “He’s talked to Babaka again.”

“Yes.” Phú’s tone turned frigid. “And now he’s following the utter nonsense she sprouted at him!”

Rolf rubbed his temple, but he smiled. “Just go with it. Halkken’s methods are unorthodox, but he gets his man.”

While he didn’t buy the old hag’s fake mystical mumbo jumbo, it seemed to work for Halkken. Why argue with success? 

“This way, Phú! This might be the hill the fortune-teller mentioned!” Halkken said with bubbling excitement.

“You owe me for this, Chief!” The line went dead as Phú terminated the call.

“What a pair,” Rolf chuckled to himself, pleased they were getting along so well. He’d need to team them up again in the future.

After some searching, it soon became apparent he’d found his woman. Once he started investigating Kelvas’s past, it toppled like a house of cards. While convincing, a deeper look revealed obvious holes. It was too clean, for one—not even a single parking ticket. Her internet presence was scarce for someone so young, with barely any social media posts beyond the last few years. And her hometown of Gravilan was conveniently distant from Vladus. She’d be a total stranger here.

“A three-year degree at Vladus University with high marks in business,” her report said—a genius, by all accounts. And then the Defense Ministry hired her, only for her to quit soon after.

“A lovely young lady,” Rolf said as he scanned her profile. But her looks belied a natural coldness, with hard eyes.

He gasped as he scrolled through her photo gallery. In one of the pictures was Rocke Ralss—Joven’s killer.

His entire world took a tumble as he struggled to process this information. In one of the photos, Rocke was embracing and kissing her at a party. And didn’t the Ralss boy also go to Vladus University? The sheer coincidence made his head spin.

Was it only a coincidence? It seemed fortuitous that the pair shared a connection. Was Ralss somehow involved with Loffie’s death? Was Joven’s death not manslaughter, but a deliberate, coldly calculated murder?

“I’m letting Sunbearer get to me.” Rolf rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was overworking himself. Rocke was a stupid kid, not an assassin. And what would anyone gain from killing Joven, anyway?

Still, the connection was interesting. Much to Rolf’s delight, he realized that Jafia Kelvas might lead him to Ralss. While a long shot, it was worth a try. After getting Kelvas’s address, he grabbed his coat.

“I’m going out,” he told his deputy, Shiisaa. “Keep me posted on the Ugly Duckling preparations.”

Like Rolf, his deputy seemed haggard by their department's preparations for the mayor’s insane plan. And since the police chief had other duties, the workload fell on her.

“Can do, sir.” Shiisaa sipped a cup of coffee before frantically typing on her keyboard. She grumbled to himself before chomping down on another donut. The poor woman had a habit of stress-eating when pushed.

Confident the situation was in good hands, Rolf left for his vehicle. He had a good feeling about his newest lead—a hunch telling him Kelvas would lead him to his true target. He loved it when everything came together.