"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."