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jonathanvik · 25 days ago

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Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 17

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johan swore under his breath. “Terrific.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll have to risk it,” Wilson said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who was she?” Johan asked.

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

“Mysteriously disappeared?” Johan raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“What do you want?” Schinis asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A cough made both men jump.

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

“The cops!” Schinis blurted, terrified.

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

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

“Who the hell are you?” Haken demanded.

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

Haken blinked. “Sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he struck only air.

Jörmungandr stood behind him.

How?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, please—!”

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

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

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

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

#fanfiction #kamen rider #fiction #action #story #literature #action adventure #written story #scifi #law enforcement #gang war #tokusatsu #female hero #heroism #superhero #cyberpunk

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drachenheld · 3 years ago

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@notyourdamndog

“Why do I feel this familiar sense of foreboding...”

#angra voice: danger...#.[ ooc ; the blade is down ]

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tgrailwar · 2 years ago

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Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another Start: Wave 1 - Day 1 (Team Avenger, Team Foreigner, and Team Archer)

Heed my words… My ████ creates your body, And your sword creates my ███████… If you heed the Grail's call, and ████ my ████ and ██████, then answer my summoning…

"…Ehehe…ehehehehe…!"

A Servant was summoned. Beautiful and ephemeral, like a sunflower. Vines gripping and corroding the wood of the church, and the data compiling the Holy Grail War.

The purpose of the Foreigner Servant was clear. Annihilate the other Servants. Claim the Grail. Annihilate the other Servants. Annihilate the other Servants. Annihilate the other Servants. Annihilate. Annihilate. Annihilate. Annihilate. Annihilate!

'FOREIGNER': "Masters... Masters... are you all my Masters...? I'm Van Gogh... let's repaint this world... together... ehehe... ehehehehe!"

Angra Mainyu: "...Well, I tried. Your Servant is here. Congratulations. I sealed some of her skills, so this won't be awful, I don't think. And I'm not dead thanks to you, which is also neat. That being said, going from 'outside threat' to 'internal competitor' is a fine change, but still makes her dangerous. Guess this'll be my first real fight as a Servant!"

As he readied himself to fight, another Servant burst in through the doors of the Church, readying his bow for battle.

Angra Mainyu: "Finally, the cavalry is here! Okay, let me catch you up to speed. That's Foreigner. Bad news, honestly. So… let's work together on this one, Archer."

Arjuna: "…I'll agree to that, simply because the other Servant seems more dangerous. Though… I can't say that 'teaming up' with a Servant like you is an idea I'm fond of. Just looking your direction is giving me the impulse to rend you asunder."

Angra Mainyu: "Yeah, yeah. Believe me, I don't like you very much either, but I'd prefer NOT dying. Anyways, since we're in a new phase-- ahem, some 'things have changed' in the Grail War, I guess we're dealing with new mechanics! Uh, 'new' mechanics? Overseer?"

[ Avenger has forged a temporary 'alliance' with Archer!

If an allied Servant wins first place during a Free-for-All, then their partner won't sustain a wound! When fighting alongside an allied Servant, they both gain a +5% boost! Additionally, they're immune to ally debuffs!

Due to the nature of this alliance, it will fade once the battle ends if not renewed by the Masters of Archer and Avenger! ]

Angra Mainyu: "Look at that, making old mechanics make sense. Better late than never, so... go us! Here's the thing though… I'm basically a lost cause, so as much as some of you will probably hate this, you'll need to dump as much mana as possible into Archer or things will get ba--"

The connection crackled and shorted out, before a voice came out from the other side.

'FOREIGNER': "Masters... Masters... It's me, Van Gogh... I've answered your call... I came here as fast as I could..."

VAN GOGH: "Can you lend me some of your mana...? I can work on commission... ehehe... just a Gogh Joke...!"

As Masters who summoned the Foreigner-class Servant, Van Gogh, it seems as if you can command her! Which means... you CAN win the Grail War with her if you band together to support her, just like any other Servant! Maybe her winning the Grail will unlock a 'special ending'? While the other Servants may stand against her, that doesn't make her any different than the others. Though... it doesn't seem like she has proper Command Spells?

Well, that's a topic for later. For now... fight on, Masters of Foreigner!

Angra Mainyu is uninjured!

Arjuna is on his final wound!

Van Gogh is uninjured!

Angra Mainyu and Arjuna are allies! They both gain +5%!

Based on skills, augmentations to the final score are:

Angra Mainyu: -12%

Arjuna: +3%

Van Gogh: -3%

Active Skills:

Angra Mainyu (Avenger)

Zarich: Right Fang Grinder (C) - Reduce enemy Servant boosts by -3%.

Tawrich: Left Fang Grinder (C) - Gain a +3% attack boost.

Annihilation Wish (A) - When fully healed, gain a -20% demerit to his final score. With one wound, the demerit is reduced to -10%. With two wounds, the demerit is changed to a +20% boost.

Arjuna (Archer)

Hero of the Endowed (A) - If fighting an enemy Servant, and the difference between scores is within 3%, take the win.

Mana Burst (Flame) (A) - Gain a +8% boost to combat poll results when attacked during 'playing defensively', rather than +3%. When not ‘playing defensively’, gains a 5% boost to final combat poll results instead.

Van Gogh (Foreigner)

Het Gele Huis (A+) - When winning first place in a Free-for-All, inflict 2 wounds on the bottom Servant, rather than just one. If engaged in a one-on-one, inflict 2 wounds instead of one upon victory. Additionally, reduce Servant bonuses by 10%, and if the gap between scores is greater than 35% when winning, recover from a 'wound'.

#combat phase poll #team avenger #team foreigner #team archer #tgw: another start

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analyzingadventure · 3 years ago

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Ghost Game episode 31, Killer Blade!

God. Dammit.

I saw the official Twitter tweet about the 20th Anniversary Whatshisfacemon, and like. Seeing the new DiMs, one featuring that evolution line specifically, and seeing the preview for this episode, I right away wondered if this episode would feature Whatshisfacemon. But, before speculating about it, I wanted to see other people’s onions on the matter, and saw a lot of people saying they thought the sword Angoramon held in the previes looked a lot like Musuyamon’s sword (or some other Digimon I can’t remember), and I was like. Okay, it might not be Whatshisfacemon after all. And so I remained quiet.

BUT NO IT WAS THAT FUCKER AFTER ALL

God the updated opening is so good

Angoramon I love you so much

Ah, the Hanumon from the opening got possessed too

Uh oh

Angra, honey, drop it

OH NO

FIGHT IT HONEY, YOU CAN DO IT, I BELIEVE IN YOU

OH THERE HE IS, THE MOTHER FUCKER HIMSELF

Ah, I get it now, Angoramon is being possessed by Musuyamon (or someone else) and Whatshisfacemon is gonna come and save the day!

My darling... ;_;

Ruri, sweetie, I think it’s time to go look for your buddy, okay?

ANGORAMON YOU HAVE TO TELL REPPAMON WHAT’S HAPPENING OR ELSE YOU CAN’T GET HELP

COMMUNICATION DUMBASS, YOU NEED TO DO A COMMUNICATION

Angoramon, you just needed to talk to someone, anyone and ask for help, now you’re gonna get Vibe Checked by Gammamon

OH THE SWORD LET GO OF ANGORAMON

HELL YEAH THE BOY IS SAVED

AND HERE COMES THE ASSHOLE, MUSYAMON! (That’s what his name was adfgdghsdfg)

NO YOU WILL NOT GET TO SNACK ON GAMMAMON YOU FUCKER

HERE COMES WHATSHISFACEMON! TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME

ZUBAMON! What do I know your voice from... Voiced by Minami Tsuda... I actually don’t know this VA, huh.

That’s a great shot right there

Aaand everyone is freed from the Musyamon’s sword

We’re so gonna see Zubamon again

FUCK YOU (affectionately) ANGORAMON, YOU LITERALLY PUT EVERYONE INTO MORE DANGER BY NOT TELLING ANYONE. HELL, you literally could’ve just written a note and left that at Ruri’s place or something if you were so afraid of seeing her face-to-face

YOU! >8V

Jesus christ Hokuto is a useless dad

Aaand that’s a wrap. ‘Tis was fun episode! Not great, but I enjoyed the Angora Angst

Next episode!

BETSUMON?! (Thanks Toei for spoiling that on Twitter)

Also OH NO ALL THE BABY GAMMAMONS ;A;

#Ghost Game #GG Reaction

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twsted-princess · 4 years ago

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"Oi mongrels!!! Your sultan's walking here, move your ass!!"

(picrew linked here)

Bio

Name: Omari Abdo

Nicknames: Ommi, (Mori) Fuck-face, (Petva) Brat, (Esme @wispy-selfship-eden) Kamasu/Barracuda, (Floyd) Seigneur D'or (Rook)

Voice Actors: Tomokazu Seki

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Age: 16

Sexuality: Hetero (derogatory), Polyamorous

Height: 5'11

Race: Human "blessed" with divine blood

Homeland: Land of Hot Sands

Birthday: November 5

Starsign: Scorpio

Family: Brothers Mustafa and Cepos, Father, Mother

Occupation: Student, "Future Sultan"

Based off: Nothing

Professional Status

Dorm: Ramshackle

School Year: First

Class: 1-E

Best Subject: None

Club: Magishift

Dominant Hand: Left

Favorite Food: Lamb shawarma, Foie gras, Beer

Hated Food: Lentils

Likes: Himself, Gold, Buying stuff, Being worshiped, His pet snake Sese, Partying, Being the center of attention

Dislikes: "Peasants" who don't do what he says, Things not going his way, Every teacher, Work (both chores and homework)

Hobbies: Knife-throwing, Ignoring school, Lazying around

Talents: Snake/danger animal handling

Unique Magic: دم الالهي / Blood of The Divine One

By slicing his flesh and allow blood to spill he can manipulate into whatever he desires. Whether it be a weapon, (preferably a dagger) poison, spark for a fire, aphrodisiac, healing elixir, whatever his mind can think of it'll become. However he does have a limit to how much he make before blood-loss starts to get affect.

Backstory

The "middle" son and the most obnoxious one over his bragging. He walks the walk of the leader but refuses to talk the talk. Gloating, reveling in wealth and material goods, enjoying a hedonistic lifestyle of parties, women and vices no one his age should have. Of course his lack of care for education and being a decent human being makes him unlikable to his peers and literally everyone who hears him open his mouth. If you can listen to him talk for over a minute congratulations, you're a legend. His brothers are usually the ones making sure he doesn't fuck up seriously but most of the time they let him do whatever he wants. The only folks he respects is his brothers and that annoying chick with the dumb cat but only sort of.

While he will brag about being a part of religion that worships the glorious deity Angra-Apepeth and soon him along with his brothers will rule the Land of Hot Sands no one really knows much about him. It's mostly because no one can stand him but there might be some truth in it.

#my work #twst oc's #twisted wonderland

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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Selcouth (250 Drabble)

250 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Hvitserk/Reader

Prompt: Selcouth - (adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous

Word Count: 916

Warnings: Arranged marriage (and what it entails in terms of consumation, but only mentions), mentions of blood (context of a sacrifice), my poor attempt at writing a Christian reader, and my inability to write language barriers properly lol

A/N: My last Hvitty drabble! I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!!

They make way for an imposing looking man to walk to you and bow his head, though the gesture is mocking.

He puts his hand to his chest, and your future husband offers one word, “Hvitserk.”

Everything about the ceremony is strange to you, it feels like being plucked away from the familiarity of the weddings before the Lord in calm serenity and reverence, and thrown into the chaos and ruckus and blood of a wedding as it is to these beasts.

Fitting, you suppose, since you are to be plucked away from your home and dragged to their strange and threatening world.

You don’t remember much of those first weeks. You remember the warm and sticky blood they made you dip your hands in during the ceremony, you remember the pain and dawning horror when the union was consummated, you remember the long trip across the sea and how the ship moved.

You don’t remember how exactly you reached this strange normality where a killer, a heathen, is the man you share your life with.

And you don’t remember how or why you have made it to have a morning as strange as this one, but what matters is you got here.

He keeps staring at you, and you frankly don’t know what to do with that.

You find your eyes meeting his a few times, and he offers a small smile, but in this land of giants and beasts you can’t be certain a smile means kindness and not the grimace an animal makes before striking.

“You don’t have to be…unhappy,” He tells you in your own tongue, although it sounds choppy and wrong in his accented voice. Denoting he is repeating what he learned, he continues, “Want to make you happy. Wife.”

You eye the man they made into your husband.

You kill my brethren and enjoy it, you defy Christ and his teachings. You want to say, you wish you had the words, or the courage, to do so.

But a voice reminds you he is your husband before God, that you owe to him and your marriage loyalty, and deference, and faithfulness.

And so you smile.

He makes you smile a lot, since that day. With each look across the dinner table, with each braid he puts into your hair in the morning, with each gruff murmur of your name as a make-do for the goodnights that would be foreign in your own tongues, he makes you smile.

Your mother did always tell you eating the bread the Devil has kneaded is a dangerous thing. Surrounded by foreign customs and beasts and wonderous tales, you wonder how bad it could be.

He talks to you a lot. Or at you would be a better description.

When night comes and you lay petrified and always expecting the backhand of cruelty, the shedding of this mask of hesitation and gentleness in exchange for brutality, the pain that never comes; your unwilling husband lies on the bed next to you, over the covers with his feet crossed and talks.

You have a feeling he needed someone to listen more than anything, even if that someone doesn’t understand a word he is saying.

Tonight is one such night, one night where he stumbles more in his steps and his smile is more dazed than blinding. And he just talks, for so long his voice goes hoarse.

He is gesturing with his arm and you hear a lot of words you don’t recognize, you think you can make up urdr, and angra.

He motions with his hand to his head and says another word you don’t understand, before his hand falls with a thud that echoes in the room right over his heart, and he says hjarta.

Your brows furrow, and you sit up.

You are not brave or stupid enough to try and approach a Norseman, but still you extend a hand and point to the one that lays over his heart, and you repeat what he taught you,

“Hvitserk.”

You make him smile that night. It is boyish and blinding and honest, and it makes something within you feel thrilled.

Your mother used to warn you that even worse than eating the bread the Devil kneads, was to knead the bread the Devil eats. Maybe she was right, but maybe damnation is something that is lost in translation too.

And he starts teaching you his tongue, and through it he shows you what his eyes see when he looks at the world around you. And you do the same, you teach him your language and your ways.

Neither cease to be unfamiliar, to either of you.

But you do find common ground. You do discover that a smile means the same to them as it does to you, though sometimes you smile for different reasons. You do discover a kiss means the same to him as it does to you, though the way these people kiss and touch is not what you were told it was supposed to be.

And for what needs words you learn how to say it without them. You say you support him with a hand on his chest, he tells you not to be afraid with a squeeze of your hip in his rough hand.

He tells you he loves you with warm eyes and the most reverent of kisses. You tell him you love him by repeating, in every way you can, the first word he taught you.

____ ____ ____

By the way, the conversation (monologue) she doesn’t understand much is supposed to be about feeling angry/regretful (angran), wondering about Fate (urdr), and feeling stuck between brain (hjarni) and heart (hjarta). It doesn’t have anything or much to do with his situation with her, but her answer is important still, make what you will of what her answer is supposed to mean :)

Thank you for reading! Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @xceafh @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai

#hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk vikings #250holyfuckthankyou #250 holy fuck thank you

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exceptionalism · 5 years ago

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fate stay night heaven's feel spring song sub español

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The final chapter in the Heaven's feel trilogy. Angra Mainyu has successfully possessed his vessel Sakura Matou . It's up to Rin, Shiro, and Rider to cleanse the grail or it will be the end of the world and magecraft as we all know it.

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Title : Fate/stay night: Heaven's Feel III. Spring Song Original Title : 劇場版「Fate/stay night [Heaven’s Feel]」Ⅲ.spring song Alternative Titles : Fate/stay night Heaven's Feel III.spring song Directed by : Yuki Kajiura Cast : Noriaki Sugiyama, Noriko Shitaya, Ayako Kawasumi, Kana Ueda, Mai Kadowaki, Miki Itō Genre : Animation Countries : Japan

Our relationship is strained. It feels like it has been for a while. For the last four years, there has been an elephant in the room — I’d joke and call it an orange elephant, but I’m nervous that might end this earnest conversation before it even begins. Have I changed? I mean, yes, of course I have. I’ve gotten older. I’ve had two children. I’ve tried to read and learn as much as possible, just as you taught me. In fact, that’s sort of the weirdest thing. I don’t think I’ve changed much. I still believe, deep in my bones, all the fundamental things you not only talked to me about, but showed me when I was little. I believe in character. I believe in competence. I believe in treating people decently. I believe in moderation. I believe in a better future and I believe in American exceptionalism, the idea that the system we were given by the Founding Fathers, although imperfect, has been an incredible vehicle for progress, moral improvement, and greatness, unlike any other system of government or country yet conceived. I believe this exceptionalism comes with responsibilities. Politically, I’m pretty much the same, too. Government is best when limited, but it’s nonetheless necessary. Fair but low taxes grow the economy. Rights must be protected, privacy respected. Partisanship stops at the water’s edge. No law can make people virtuous — that obligation rests on every individual. So how is it even possible that we’re here? Unable to travel, banned from entry by countless nations. The laughingstock of the developed world for our woeful response to a pandemic. 200,000 dead. It hasn’t been safe to see you guys or grandma for months, despite being just a plane ride away. My children — your grandchildren — are deprived of their friends and school. Meanwhile, the U.S., which was built on immigration — grandma being one who fled the ravages of war in Europe for a better life here — is now a bastion of anti-immigrant hysteria. Our relatives on your side fought for the Union in the Civil War. Great-grandpa fought against the Russians in WWI, and granddad landed at Normandy to stop the rise of fascism. And now people are marching with tiki-torches shouting, “the Jews will not replace us.” What is happening?! Black men are shot down in the streets? Foreign nations are offering bounties on American soldiers?

fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song release date fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song full movie fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song watch fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song stream fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song blu ray fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song reddit fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song dub fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song blu ray release date fate/stay night heaven's feel iii. spring song australia And the President of the United States defends, rationalizes, or does nothing to stop this? I’d say that’s insane, but I’m too heartbroken. Because every step of the way, I’ve heard you defend, rationalize, or enable him and the politicians around him. Not since I was a kid have I craved to hear your strong voice more, to hear you say anything reassuring, inspiring, morally cogent. If not for me, then for the world that will be left to your grandchildren. This does not feel like a good road we are going down… Look, I know you’re not to blame for this. You hold no position of power besides the one we all have as voters, but I guess I just always thought you believed in the lessons you taught me, and the things we used to listen to on talk radio on our drives home from the lake. All those conversations about American dignity, the power of private enterprise, the sacredness of the Oval Office, the primacy of the rule of law. Now Donald Trump gushes over foreign strongmen. He cheats on his wife with porn stars (and bribes them with illegal campaign funds). He attacks whistleblowers (career army officers, that is). He lies blatantly and habitually, about both the smallest and largest of things. He enriches himself, his family members, and his business with expenditures straight from the public treasury. And that’s just the stuff we know about. God knows what else has happened these last four years that executive privilege has allowed him to obscure from public view. I still think about the joke you made when we walked past Trump Tower in New York when I was kid. Tacky, you said. A reality show fool. Now that fool has his finger on the nuclear button — which I think he thinks is an actual button — and I can’t understand why you’re OK with this. I mean, the guy can’t even spell! You demanded better of me in the papers I turned in when I was in middle school. I know you don’t like any of it. If you’d have had your choice, any other Republican would have been elected but Trump. You’re not an extremist, and you’ve never once said anything as repulsive as what people now seem comfortable saying on TV and social media (and in emails to your son, I might add). Four years ago, I wrote to you to ask you not to vote for Donald Trump. But this time around, that’s no longer enough. At some point, just finding it all unpleasant and shaking your head at the tweets, while saying or doing nothing more about it, is moral complicity. You told me that as a kid! That the bad prevail when good people do nothing. A while back I emailed a friend of mine who is an advisor to the administration. I said to him, why do you think my dad’s support of Trump bothers me so much more than yours? Because it does. This is someone who helped put Trump in office and wants to keep him there, but we’re still friends. Talking to him doesn’t hurt my heart the way it does when politics come up over family meals. The man’s answer was telling, and I am quoting. He said, “Because I am irredeemable, but your dad ought to know better.” Does that register with you at all? One of the things you taught me well was how to spot a scam. Double check everything, you said. Do your research. Look at what the people around them say. Look at their history. Remember when you used to quote Reagan’s line to me, “Trust, but verify”? I’ve been lucky enough to make a few trips to Washington the last few years. I’ve sat across from Senators and Congressmen. I’ve talked to generals who have briefed the president, and business leaders who worked with him before the election. This is a guy who doesn’t read, they said, a guy with the attention span of a child. Everybody avoided doing business with him. Because he didn’t listen, because he stiffed people on bills, because he was clueless. He treated women horribly. He’s awful, they said. I thought this was a particularly damning line: If Donald Trump were even half-competent, one elected official told me, he could probably rule this country for 20 years. I have trouble figuring what’s worse — that he wants to, or that he wants to but isn’t competent enough to pull it off. Instead, Washington is so broken and so filled with cowards that Trump just spent the last four years breaking stuff and embarrassing himself. I learned from you how to recognize a dangerous or unreliable person. If you don’t trust the news, could you trust what I’m bringing you, right from the source? Let’s trust our gut, not our political sensibility. Based on what I’ve told you, and what you’ve seen: Would you let him manage your money? Would you want your wife or daughter to work for him without supervision? I’m not even sure I would stay in one of his hotels, after what I’ve read. Watching the RNC a few weeks ago, I wondered what planet I was on. What’s with all the yelling? How is this happening on the White House lawn? Why are his loser kids on the bill? His kid’s girlfriend??? And what is this picture of America they are painting? They are the ones in charge! Yet they choose to campaign against the dystopian nightmare that is 2020… which is to say, they are campaigning against themselves. Look, I agree there is crazy stuff happening in the world. The civil unrest is palpable, violence is on the rise, and Americans have never been so openly divided. Sure, rioting and looting are bad. But who is to blame for all the chaos? The President. Remember what you told me about the sign on Truman’s desk? The buck stops here. (May we contrast that with: “I don’t take responsibility at all.”) In any case, what some crazy people in Portland are doing is not ours to repeatedly disavow. What the president does? The citizens are complicit in that. Especially if we endorse it at the ballot box come November 3rd. Besides, what credibility do we have to insist on the ‘rule of law’ when eight of the president’s associates have faced criminal charges? His former lawyer went to jail, too! And then the president commutes their sentences, dangles pardons to keep them quiet, or tries to prevent them from cooperating with authorities? When he’s fined millions of dollars for illegally using his charity as a slush fund? When he cheats on his taxes? When he helped his parents avoid taxes, too? I remember you once told me the story of a police officer in your department who was caught filling up his personal car with gas paid for by the city. The problem, you said, wasn’t just the mistake. It was that when he was confronted by it, he lied. But the cameras showed the proof and so he was fired, for being untrustworthy most of all. Would you fire Trump if he worked for you? What kind of culture do you think your work would have had if the boss acted like Trump? As for the lying, that’s the craziest part, because we can, as the kids say, check the receipts: Was it bad enough to call John McCain a loser? Yes, but then, of course, Trump lied and claimed he didn’t. Bad enough to cheat on his wife? Yes, but of course, he lied about it, and committed crimes covering it up (which he also lied about). Was it bad enough to solicit help from Russia and Wikileaks in the election? Yes, but then he, his son, and his campaign have lied about it so many times, in so many forums, that some of them went to jail over it. Was it stupid that, in February, Trump was tweeting about how Covid-29 was like the flu and that we didn’t need to worry? Yes, but it takes on a different color when you listen to him tell Bob Woodward that in January he knew how bad it was, how much worse it was than even the worst flu, and that he was deliberately going to downplay the virus for political purposes. I’m sure we could quibble over some, but The Fact Checker database currently tallys over 20,000 lies since he took office. Even if we cut it in half, that’s insane! It’s impossible to deny: Trump lied, and Americans have died because of it. A friend of mine had a one-on-one dinner with Trump at the White House a while back. It was actually amazing, he said. Half the evening was spent telling lies about the size of his inaugural address. This was in private — not even for public relations purposes, and years after the controversy had died down. That’s when he realized: The lying is pathological. It can’t be helped. Which is to say, it makes a person unfit to lead. Politics should not come before family. I don’t want you to think this affects how I feel about you. But it does make it harder for us to spend time together — not just literally so, since Trump’s bumbling response to the pandemic has crippled America and made travel difficult. It’s that I feel grief. I feel real grief — were the lessons you taught me as a kid not true? Did you not mean them? Was it self-serving stuff to make sure I behaved? Was I a fool for listening? Or is it worse, that my own father cares more about his retirement accounts — and I’ll grant, the runup of the market has been nice for me, too — than the future he is leaving for his children? Are you so afraid of change, of that liberal boogeyman Limbaugh and Hannity and these other folks have concocted, that you’d rather entrust the country to a degenerate carnival barker than anyone else? I see all this anger, what is it that you’re so angry about? You’ve won. Society has worked for you. My own success is proof. So what is it? Because it can’t possibly be that you think this guy is trustworthy, decent, or kind. It’s definitely not about his policies… because almost every single one is anathema to what Republicans — and you — have talked about my entire life. The one thing I hold onto is hope. I believe in America. I believe in the goodness of hardworking people like you and Mom. I know that this is not what you wanted to happen, that this is not the America you grew up in nor the one you would like for me and my kids to grow up in. I hold onto hope that you’re tired enough to draw the line. That you are not irredeemable as that Trump advisor allowed himself to become. The right thing is always the right thing, you’ve said. Even when it’s hard. Even when it goes against what your friends think, or what you’ve done in the past. The right thing is obviously to end this. To cancel this horrendous experiment with its cavalcade of daily horrors and vulgarities and stupidities and historical humiliations. America is a great nation. …

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grandwizardcreation · 5 years ago

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elefhantheroom · 5 years ago

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jonathanvik · 2 months ago

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Kamen Rider Fenrir - Chapter 11

“So, the little brat’s got an Angra Armlet,” Dino’s monstrous bear form growled, unimpressed. He clicked his claws together, tiny ice shards scraping off as he did so. “Pity I’ve been training, Fenrir. I won’t be as easy to defeat this time.”

Ilma circled her prey with relentless energy, seeking any visible weakness. Rebecca scrambled behind Johan’s massive bulk, not eager to become a hostage again.

“Does she not get tired?” Yareli grumbled to herself. Her voice lowered as she addressed her friends. “Aim for the wings. Their armor is actually pretty fragile.”

“Huh?” This news surprised Johan. After handily defeating Selim, he’d believed the Valkyries unstoppable—possibly even more powerful than Fenrir. Had he misjudged their strength?

“I’ll take on Dino. You fight Ilma. It’s a better matchup for our side. Besides, it avoids being predictable. Careful with Ilma. She learns fast. Rebecca, where is Samuel? Is he okay?”

“He’s doing okay. He’s hiding.” With a subtle movement of her eyes, Rebecca gestured toward a sports car a couple of meters away. “Keep them busy. I have an idea.”

Their hasty planning was interrupted as Dino cleaved through the air, creating shards of ice that slashed toward them at frightening speed. Johan scrambled to safety, but Yareli’s sword shattered them into sparking specks of ice in midair. Sensing Fenrir’s vulnerability, the Valkyrie dove at her back with a spear.

Johan cursed, pain lancing through his chest as he took the blow intended for his friend. He endured the pain, ripping the weapon from the Valkyrie’s hands and shattering it across his knee. Unimpressed, Ilma withdrew her sword, eager to cut down the interloper who dared to block her from her prey.

Johan hissed as he received a nasty slash across the chest. He slashed back with his meaty fist but struck only open air. They engaged, but it was hardly what you would call a fight. Ilma humiliated him at every turn, slipping through his attacks like he was a clumsy oaf. Her blade bit his flesh in every exchange, driven home with uncanny accuracy. Realizing how much the Valkyrie outclassed him in combat skills, Johan changed tactics, using his enormous size and bulk to his advantage to grapple the Valkyrie.

When his opponent realized his tactic, she took flight. But Johan’s boar form possessed surprising speed, snatching the Valkyrie from the air. She squirmed in his hands, but his grip was iron-tight. Yareli wasn’t wrong in her assessment of the Valkyrie’s armor. The wings snapped like twigs, her armor shattering under Johan’s considerable strength. But spears of ice crashed into his back, causing him to lose his grip on his captive. Ilma darted away before he could reestablish his grapple.

The Ymir thug gave Johan a mocking salute before dodging several bolts from Yareli’s gun. A hiss of pain escaped Johan’s maw as a sudden sword thrust drove him back. The Valkyrie’s raw power was staggering, but it wasn’t his immediate concern. Sparks crackled from his Angra Armlet, the device becoming uncomfortably warm. Johan figured only scant moments remained until his transformation failed, leaving an exhausted Yareli to face two dangerous opponents alone.

Despite their desperate situation, Johan’s blood surged with excitement, pushing him to fight until he dropped dead. Time seemed to slow as he analyzed the battleground. Yareli’s back was pressed against an expensive-looking car, Dino’s claws raised to strike. Somehow, Johan knew his friend wouldn’t be quick enough to avoid the attack. Ilma darted toward him, aiming to strike his blind spot. In a sudden moment of stunning clarity, Johan knew what he needed to do.

The Valkyrie’s sword slipped past his fur as he dodged left. In the same motion, he grabbed the remains of a bumper from a car Ilma had totaled earlier. Time slowed again as he calculated his throw, vaguely noting Ilma’s follow-up strike. But Johan ignored her, lining up his shot to hurl the projectile toward Dino’s head. If his predictions proved accurate, the blow would knock the bear monster off balance, giving his ally the perfect opportunity for a retaliatory strike.

“Gah!” Dino staggered as the incoming car bumper smacked him in the snout, distracting him enough for Yareli to swoop around him. She switched her weapon into gun mode, blasting several bolts into his face. The expensive red sports car—costing at least half a million euros—crumpled as Dino flailed backward, attempting to guard his face with an arm. A kick drove him through a nearby pillar, concrete dust obscuring the monster as it shattered.

Despite this small victory, it was short-lived. Black, acrid smoke wafted from his Angra Armlet as Ilma slashed Johan across the chest. His transformation failed, and Johan momentarily stumbled, confused, unsure where he was. His breathing was labored, like the air was too thin for his lungs.

“Are you okay?” Yareli jumped to his side, holding him steady before the Jotnar collapsed.

“I’m not sure.” Johan took a steadying breath and regained his bearings. What was that? How had he done that? Somehow, he’d predicted the future like some damn clairvoyant.

“Impressive, but now it’s two against one,” Dino said, regaining his feet. “Still interested in futilely facing us?”

In response, Yareli inserted her key into her gun. “Grave bolter.”

The Ymir thug howled as a storm of energy slammed into his chest. Ilma leaped aside, just avoiding getting crushed by her ally.

Yareli grunted. “He talks too much.”

“Okay, but don’t accidentally crush Samuel.” Johan gave Rebecca a pensive look. But the hacker girl was busy on her phone, texting something from her hiding spot.

Johan winced when Yareli’s blade caught the Valkyrie leader’s leaping slash, the impact almost deafening him. The two squared off, matching blow for blow. He scrambled away to avoid getting trampled. He studied the two combatants with fascination. Ilma’s fighting style was painfully straightforward, always searching for the most direct path to defeat her opponent. Yareli was everywhere, yet nowhere—her movements unpredictable, driven by the primal need to emerge victorious. Her weapon seemed to blur as it continually shifted forms.

Yet, Fenrir couldn’t tackle both foes in her current state, her movements clumsy to Johan’s eyes. She did her best, but the pair quickly overpowered her. His friend grunted as a two-pronged attack drove her to her knees, claws and blade striking from opposite sides.

“We can’t win like this.” Johan wondered if he should retry his armlet again, despite the risks. Before he could try, Rebecca smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Had she completed whatever she’d planned?

“Move left,” Johan whispered when he read Rebecca’s frantic hand gesture.

“Huh?” Yareli said, confused, but did as instructed.

“Now!” Rebecca yelled into her phone. Johan winced when a bright light suddenly drove toward them. Wheels squealed as a fancy-looking car screeched to a halt in front of them. The door slammed open, almost smacking Johan’s face.

“Get in!” Samuel said from the driver’s seat. His dark face was pale, blood staining his coat. But he stood strong, refusing to fail his friends.

Without a word, Yareli hurled Johan into the vehicle. The injured Jotnar howled in pain as Johan collided with him, but didn’t complain. After an embarrassed apology, Johan righted himself and removed himself from his injured friend. Rebecca tore open the back door, sitting gingerly in the passenger seat.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Ilma rushed forward, her blade hurling toward one of the vehicle’s wheels. But she jerked back as Yareli peppered her with bolts.

“Go! Go! Go!” Rebecca gestured wildly. Samuel slammed the controls to start the auto-drive. With a graceful leap, Yareli landed through the open door, continuing to harass their attackers to dissuade them from following.

Despite the energy bolts zipping past her head, Ilma continued her dogged pursuit, refusing to give up her quarry. The ground thundered as Dino joined his compatriot, dropping to all fours to run them down. But a carefully aimed bolt to a leg threw him off course, hurling him into a nearby van. With their car’s speed, they quickly lost sight of him. Only Ilma refused to surrender the chase, despite several of Fenrir’s bolts tearing pieces from her armor.

“Look out!” A Ymir goon guarding the car park’s entrance jumped away as the high-speed vehicle careened toward him. One smashed toll barrier later, and they were on the Bifrost streets.

“Aren’t these auto-drive systems designed so they can’t run people down or smash through obstacles?” Johan asked.

“I had Samuel disable the safety systems,” Rebecca replied smugly. “I thought it might come in handy.”

“She still isn’t giving up?” Yareli said, still firing on the pursuing Valkyrie from the open door.

They were gaining ground on Ilma. It wouldn’t be long until even her remarkable suit’s capabilities couldn’t catch up to them. With a sudden, jerky turn, they entered traffic, a highway leading to outer Bifrost. Johan made a strangled cry of surprise as the Valkyrie leaped into the air in one final desperate attempt not to lose her prey. She landed on the roof, her hands scrambling to gain purchase. But the hold wasn’t strong enough, and Ilma slipped off.

Johan winced as another vehicle collided into her, nearly flipping over. Another car jerked as the auto-drive systems kicked in to avoid a collision with the crashed vehicle. Other cars screeched to a halt, causing a massive traffic jam.

“It’s like she doesn’t value her own life!” Something about the Valkyrie’s attitude disturbed him at a fundamental level. Wasn’t life about surviving?

“I wish I knew,” Yareli said, entering the car proper and closing the door. She pulled her key free, dismissing her Fenrir armor. “You did good, Johan. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yeah! That was awesome!” Rebecca grinned ear to ear. “Once we get your Angra Armlet fixed, Ymir won’t stand a chance.”

“Our little boy is growing up,” Samuel said, wiping away a fake tear.

“Oh, shut up. What about you?” Johan glanced at his friend’s wounds. “You need a hospital right away!”

“Already on it,” Rebecca said. “Once we ditch the car, I know a back-alley clinic that can help us.”

“Um.” Yareli didn’t sound too pleased about that piece of news.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Rebecca waved a dismissive hand. “He’s cool as long as you can pay.”

“Sure.” While Yareli didn’t seem convinced, she wouldn’t argue. They couldn’t risk going to a real hospital. Still, the prospect of sending his best friend to such a shady place didn’t thrill Johan, either.

Johan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relieved they’d survived that horrible place. It had been a bigger adventure than he’d expected. Still, they’d given Ymir another black eye and learned some intel. It was somewhat of a victory.

---

“Hello, everyone! I’m glad you’re having me!” Reine said, grinning her biggest, warmest smile.

“Yeah, hi,” the gathered Valkyries said with little enthusiasm.

“I’m happy to train with you guys,” Reine said, trying to push past the awkward mood in the gym. “The publicity will do wonders for the Valkyrie program. I heard how easily you beat those hooligans who stole Ymir tech. Is there nothing you guys can’t defeat?”

“Yeah, sure,” Pihu replied. “That’s certainly true.”

None of her fellow Valkyries showed much interest in engaging their special guest, leaving her their sole spokesperson. After the beating they’d received from their fight with Fenrir, no one was interested in pampering a spoiled princess.

Ilma, in particular, seemed on edge. She’d prefer roaming the streets of Bifrost hunting for Ymir’s enemies than helping in some publicity stunt. Her defeat to Fenrir had rattled their usually stoic leader.

“Just engage her. It isn’t like she’s permanently becoming a member,” Pihu thought. Besides, she figured the Ymir idol was a nice girl once you got to know her. At least Reine had shown that she took this exercise seriously—not arriving wearing make-up or having cameras hovering around her. She seemed ready for a serious workout.

“Do you have any martial arts training?” Pihu asked.

“I took some self-defense classes when I started working as an idol, but otherwise, not really,” Reine replied, embarrassed.

Wonderful. It didn’t enthuse Pihu that they’d need to train the girl from scratch. Her studies kept her a busy girl. She had a ten-page report due next Friday.

“It’s fine,” Abbey said, warming up to the idol. The awkwardness of the situation had struck Reine hard, and the taller girl couldn’t maintain her cold exterior any longer. “A fresh start is good. She doesn’t have any foolish preconceptions.”

“Like unpressed dough?” Pihu asked, raising an eyebrow.

Abbey gave an enthusiastic nod. “Exactly.”

“Reine is a person,” Ilma said, like she was starting something obvious.

“She’s new, untrained, ready to be molded into something different,” Pihu said.

“Oh.” Ilma nodded her head in understanding.

“Did she not understand the metaphor?” Reine gave a conspiratorial whisper out of Ilma’s hearing range. “It wasn’t complicated.”

“Ilma is very literal-minded. She basically takes everything at face value,” Pihu whispered. It led to some interesting encounters. “When Abigail got the flu once, Ilma overheard that laughter is the best medicine. She spent the entire night with several joke books, awkwardly trying to tell jokes to make her feel better.”

“I remember that” Abbey rubbed her temple, her lip raised in wry amusement. “I couldn’t get any sleep. She probably made my sickness worse!”

“No way!” Reine exclaimed in amazement. The two Valkyries and the idol broke into uproarious laughter.

Ilma blinked. “What’s funny?”

“Forget it.” Pihu wiped away a tear from her eye. The laughter had disturbed the awkward tension, and the Valkyries warmed to the newcomer.

“Come, let’s start some basic exercises.” Abbey pushed Reine toward the training mat.

With such a dazzling smile, it wasn’t surprising the president chose the girl as Ymir’s spokesperson. There was something just likable about her. Her presence soothed the Valkyries’ earlier frustration at losing to Fenrir.

---

“I think my bruises have bruises!” the idol toweled the sweat from her head. Despite the intense workout, Reine was in excellent spirits. She winced as she lowered herself onto a nearby bench. Pihu was glad their newest member was taking to the training so well. Behind the pretty smile, the girl had a fire within her.

“That’s impossible. We only did some light training. It didn’t cause you any serious injuries,” Ilma replied. “Also, bruises don’t have blood vessels. What you propose is impossible.”

“Right. Um, I meant to say that was a tough workout,” Reine said, giving an awkward smile.

“Tomorrow will be tougher,” Ilma replied. “Being a Valkyrie is a serious commitment.”

“Unfortunately, it means training daily until you throw up.” Abbey gave the idol a sympathetic smile. “It will get easier once your body gets stronger.”

“Is this a publicity stunt or military camp?” Reine grumbled to herself.

“Sorry about that, but the Valkyrie system takes a serious toll on its user,” Pihu replied sympathetically. “It’s for your own safety.”

While not pleased, Reine nodded before laughing to herself. “I suppose I asked for this.”

The Valkyries gave nods of respect that the idol wasn’t backing off after facing such difficult early trials. They headed toward the shower room to get cleaned off. The facility wasn’t as fancy as the Valkyrie training facility in Ilma’s father’s lab. The lab, however, needed to remain top secret. Besides, it was under repair after all the damage Fenrir had caused.

“How did you get involved in this Valkyrie business, anyway?” Reine said, trying to remove her training clothes with her tired muscles.

“My father created the project. I was an excellent candidate to spearhead it,” Ilma replied.

“Okay, but couldn’t you have done something else?” Reine eyed the Valkyrie leader with curiosity.

“She’s a daddy’s girl,” Pihu said with a slight smile.

“It’s an important project.” Ilma blinked.

Pihu shook her head, amused. “I joined about a year and a half ago because the money was good. I’m saving up for my master’s.”

“In what?” Reine asked, intrigued.

“You’d think it’s stupid.”

“Tell me!” Reine said, tugging at Pihu’s arm.

“Astrophysics. I want to become an astronaut someday,” Pihu replied, looking away in embarrassment.

“Really?” Reine’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Thanks to Ymir, technology has been growing at an incredible rate,” Pihu said. “Space travel is still in its infancy. I want to become a pioneer in that field. Shame it requires so many years of schooling and a master’s degree. Much too difficult for some poor girl from Pune. But my school record impressed Dr. Halvorsen personally, so they gave me a chance.”

“I’m here through Dr. Halvorsen too,” Abigail said. “I fought on a mixed martial arts circuit for several years. Won myself a few championships. I’d still be there, but Dr. Halvorsen persuaded me to join the Valkyrie program. It sounded like an intriguing opportunity.”

“And there are only the three of you? Are there any other branches?” Reine asked.

“Besides you? None,” Pihu replied. “It’s still a new program. The technology is still very experimental.” The armor fascinated her. Its possible applications were mind-boggling. She had several intensive conversations with Dr. Halvorsen about its potential use as a spacesuit. While not space-worthy yet, they could resist solar winds.

“There is Mallory, but she passed away,” Abbey said, her tone becoming somber.

“What happened?” Reine’s voice caught in her throat, her smile faltering. It seemed she wanted to say more, but stopped herself.

“It happened before I joined the program,” Abbey said, continuing her story. “There’s a reason we’re having you train so hard before wearing the Valkyrie armor. Mallory was working with the prototype, but she got careless. It accidentally damaged her internal organs.”

“Yeah, I was there when it happened.” Ilma looked down, her usually expressionless face somber. “She died before we got her to a hospital.”

“But don’t worry! We’ll be careful with you!” Pihu said quickly to calm the disturbed idol. No one deserved to die for some stupid publicity stunt. “And the armor is much safer now. Dr. Halvorsen and I have been working hard to fix those problems.”

“It’s fine. I trust you guys,” Reine said after a moment of silence. Pihu noticed the tension in her face, like she was biting back her tongue. But it vanished, replaced with her trademark smile. “I’m hungry. How about we get something?”

“That’s good. I’m starving!” Abbey said. “Let’s hit the cafeteria. The food is decent. I’m afraid you’ll need to follow a specialized diet, too.”

“It’s fine. I kinda figured,” Reine replied without much enthusiasm.

After switching to casual clothes, they left the gym in good spirits. Pihu was glad the other girls were getting along with their newest unofficial member. They promised to go out drinking later that night. While a little naughty and against the rules, they deserved it. Hopefully, Fenrir wouldn’t pop her head up again and ruin their night out.

#fiction #action #stories #story #literature #written story #scifi #action adventure #fanfiction #kamen rider #norse gods #norse mythology #superhero #tokusatsu

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additionalblog · 5 years ago

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fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song blu ray sub english

fate/stay night heaven's feel - iii. spring song blu ray