"You didn't have to stay," Johan said, playing with his fries. The crowded diner bustled with people from the lunch rush, making hearing his stepson difficult.
"I've never visited Bifrost before. I want to see the sights. This is a human-built island. A modern Roman Colosseum, a marvel of human ingenuity!" Friedel tapped his stepson on the chest. "You can show me the sights."
"I'm busy. This isn't a good time." Emotion warred within Johan, drawing a curious look from Friedel. What was happening here? Was something going on? Was it connected to the sword his stepson thought he had well hidden?
"Is there a gang war happening?" Friedel thought.
Bountiful rumors ran about Bifrost these days, including a rivalry between the Jotnar and the Niflhel. Friedel cringed just thinking about it, recalling in vivid detail the news articles about the Niflhel terrorizing the city.
"Johan, you idiot. Why'd you join a gang?" he thought.
But Friedel had promised he'd support his stepson. Maybe Johan wasn't fighting anyone—only keeping the sword for protection. But Friedel wasn't hopeful.
"Not even for a day? You can't even spare your poor, old stepfather a single afternoon?"
"Fine," Johan said, relenting.
"Wonderful." He was getting the hang of twisting his stepson's arm. They ate in relative silence before a question occurred to Friedel. "That biker girl, Ilma—are you seeing her?"
"Why does everyone think that?" Johan rolled his eyes. "We're just friends."
"Really? I've seen the way you look at her." Friedel wore a sly smile. "Why does she hide her face? She never removes her helmet."
"Ilma has terrible scars," Johan replied after a brief pause. "She dislikes people seeing her face—says it scares them."
"And yet, you seem unbothered by it. Have you seen what's underneath that suit?"
Another odd pause. "She's thin but still attractive."
"Huh." Now Friedel was even more curious. Something was happening behind the scenes he wasn't getting.
"And we aren't dating. We're just good friends."
"That right? You seem to care about her deeply."
"Being around her makes me comfortable—like I can say anything to her, and she won't judge me for it."
"It sounds like you found someone special. Good for you." He decided not to push the obvious love angle. Romantic or not, Friedel was pleased Johan had such a special friend. In his long experience, such companionships were rare.
While he bit into his hamburger, an ad for a Ymir car popped onto the TV screen. The atmosphere in the room changed; subtle anger permeated the air. It made Johan flinch.
"I realize Ymir isn't the most popular company right now, but I'm surprised Reine's song isn't cheering you up." Friedel listened as the idol sang a catchy jingle as the commercial finished. Johan had a rather sad infatuation with the girl. He actually bought all her albums, even using one short sample as a ringtone.
"Who wants to listen to that trash?" Johan replied, his tone venomous.
"Is something wrong?" Friedel said, his fatherly instincts flashing trouble. "Did you meet her, and she wasn't what you expected?"
"You could say that. Turns out she's a murderer."
"What?" Before Friedel could inquire further, the bell at the diner's front resonated through the halls.
"Good afternoon. One moment, and we'll get you…" The server's voice trailed off, a deafening silence spreading across the room. Johan's dark skin, in particular, went white as a sheet. Friedel turned to discover the most ghoulish boy he'd ever seen had entered the restaurant.
"Selim," Johan said, breathless. "It can't be. You're…"
"Dead. Because you killed me, Johan. Don't be so surprised. I'm a Niflhel. Kill us, and we only rise again."
"Killed?" What the hell was going on? A maniac hysteria washed over the diner's occupants, each turning to flee to safety.
The cruel smile crossing over Selim's face made Friedel's skin crawl. "Is this your father, Johan? I'll enjoy tearing him limb from limb while you watch, helpless."
"Dammit! Run, Friedel!" Johan pushed his stepfather behind him. He pulled the sword from his bag, pointing it toward the Niflhel.
Selim pulled a device from his pocket and inserted it into the strange mechanism attached to his arm. "Terrorize!"
Friedel watched in stunned shock as the pale boy changed, becoming a monstrous spider—hideous to behold. It stood twice as tall as him! Like spooked cattle, people trampled over each other to escape.
Dear God, the news didn't exaggerate the monstrous nature of the Niflhels. Too frightened to move, his legs refused to cooperate. He yelled at his stepson to flee and save himself. Instead, Johan attached a similar armlet and pulled out a device with a boar marking.
"Terrorize!"
Had the world gone insane? His stepson had just turned into a pig monster! A viscous liquid dripped from the spider monster's mandibles, burning the floor where it touched. Johan stood his ground, ready to fight to protect his estranged stepfather. At this moment, a profound sense of pride struck Friedel. Despite their differences, Johan would risk his life to protect him. It brought unexpected tears, touching him profoundly.
"No, don't get weepy! Run!" a growl from Johan's hog snout said.
Friedel didn't need to be told twice, scrambling toward a back exit—but only found a better hiding spot instead, knowing Johan might require some backup.
"I'm going to enjoy killing everyone you've ever loved, Johan. Already, my men are torching the old man's shop. See." The monster spider pointed toward a plume of smoke in the distance, making Friedel's heart race. Dear Lord.
"Bastard!" Tables and booths splintered as Johan charged toward his foe, but Selim's spider-like instincts were formidable. Johan blinked, confused as his sword struck empty air. His quarry had just vanished.
Friedel yelped in surprise as a bottle landed a few meters away. There was a sudden stink of gasoline before everything erupted in flame. Scorching heat made him sweat as fire spread across the diner. Friedel coughed as a nearby table caught, the smoke choking him.
"What?" Even in his monster form, Johan coughed as smoke met his lungs.
"I'll make sure you lose it all, one by one," Selim said, suspended midair by a ceiling fan. His free multi-arms played with what Friedel realized was another Molotov cocktail. Fire roared as the kitchen caught fire.
Why had he insisted on being brave? His coughing worsened as the fire spread further, leaving Friedel no easy escape route.
"You!" Johan's blade slashed at the psychopathic Niflhel, but Selim scuttled away. He escaped toward the back exit, clinging to the roof.
"Dammit!" Johan cursed, his eyes widening when he realized not everyone had fled when the Niflhel appeared. People huddled under what they'd assumed was safe cover.
"This way!" With a mighty kick, Johan cracked the front door open. Instead of fleeing, people trembled in fear, uncertain they could trust this monster. Smoke spread further, making visibility almost null.
Heedless of the flames, Johan dropped his weapon and hurled anything flammable away from the restaurant-goers. The fire sizzled his thick coat, but he withstood the pain to open a path for escape.
"Dammit, I'm only an accountant!" Friedel thought before saying, "This way! Escape is close!"
Friedel grabbed a nearby girl of Johan's age crouching near his hiding spot and pulled her toward the opening his stepson had smashed open. The poor girl hesitated, trembling before Johan's monster form.
"It's alright. That's my son," Friedel said, imbuing his words with pride and confidence. "He won't harm you."
After a moment's hesitation, the young woman nodded, running toward the opening. She tensed as her arm brushed Johan's fur but gained confidence after realizing he wasn't a threat. "Come on! The way is clear."
Bolstered by her words, people dashed toward the exit. Johan continued to hurl anything flammable away, using his body as a shield against the fire.
Friedel was the last to leave, hurrying Johan after him. A deafening cracking sound reverberated through the dinner, and terror gripped his heart as a beam collapsed onto Johan, trapping him.
The damned fool! Why'd he need to sacrifice himself to save us? Friedel hurled himself towards the flaming diner to save his stepson, but sudden strong arms restrained him from doing something stupid. Sirens roared as emergency vehicles arrived at the scene.
"Johan." Friedel collapsed to his knees, convinced he'd lost his last connection to Jayla.
Wood creaked, making Friedel glance up. Grunting with effort, Johan struggled against the beam holding him in place. Fire nipped at Johan, but his stepson only fought harder. People gazed in astonishment as the beam left a deep crack in the parking lot pavement as it was hurled away.
"Hurry!" Friedel said, terrified the roof would collapse at any moment. Johan ran from the building, undoing his transformation as he went. He collapsed, coughing and wheezing once he left the imminent danger. Moments later, the diner collapsed into a pile of flaming rubble. EMTs rushed toward Johan, placing an oxygen mask over his face.
"Johan." Friedel threw his arms over his stepson, tears falling unbidden.
"I'm fine, Friedel," Johan wheezed, his words sounding weak. He didn't protest as an EMT pulled him toward an ambulance.
"I can't believe a Niflhel saved us," a man said.
"Johan isn't a damn Niflhel. He's a Jotnar!" Friedel said, standing tall with pride. Gang member or not, his stepson was a damn hero!
People's eyes widened in astonishment, some even clapping in delight. Firefighters arrived, hoses ready; cops not long after, trying to glean what had just happened. They got mixed reports. No one was quite sure what they'd seen.
Before Friedel moved to join his stepson in the ambulance, a glint caught his attention. He stooped down and found the odd sword Johan had been carrying. The weapon was half-buried under some rubble.
After checking no one was watching, he scooped it up and walked toward his car. Best the cops didn't find whatever this sword was. Johan would need it to face that Selim creature. With the growing crowd, he used it to slip away before getting noticed. His lungs hurt, but he'd attend to that later.
After throwing the sword into the backseat, he programmed his car to drive to the hospital. While Johan had suffered some burns, his injuries didn't seem too severe. His strange boar form had protected him from most of the damage.
"Johan, just what have you gotten into?" It seemed he'd need to extend his stay in Bifrost.
///
"What is it?" Yareli's brush froze mid-stroke, annoyed at the untimely interruption. Her phone buzzed as she received a call, insistent she answer it. While she hated getting interrupted mid-thought, it might be important. She placed her brush down on her palette and reached for her phone.
Her hand paused as she detected a faint sound that shouldn't belong. Everyone else was out on various errands, leaving her alone. Her instincts flared, warning her of danger. After grabbing her phone, she rushed toward the door. Yareli jumped as glass shattered, followed by the whoosh of an explosion. Fire greeted her as she opened her room's door.
Gramp's shop was on fire! Enraged, Yareli wrapped her Ragnadriver around her waist. Whoever these bastards were, they'd pay! As she searched for enemies, she texted 110, the fire department.
"Dammit! It should take three or four minutes to arrive." Yareli loved this silly little shop and loathed anything happening to it. Heedless of the danger, she searched for the fire extinguisher. As Yareli explored further into the shop, she found more flames than she'd expected. Her enemies must have used multiple Molotov cocktails. While not fireproof, she didn't need to breathe. The fire shouldn't be too difficult to fight.
"There." Yareli found the fire extinguisher and sprayed the closest fire with foam. Beyond the roar of the flames, Yareli thought she heard sirens. Only luck and instinct saved her as she jumped away from something whipping toward her chest.
Through the fire, figures emerged. One was enormous, with glistening teeth and fangs. The mangy, monstrous fox creature seemed vaguely familiar. With him stood a scorpion-like monstrosity, its tail dripping venom.
"Who the hell are you?" Yareli prepared her Uhyre key, gripping it tight in her hand. Did they plan on fighting her in a burning building? Were they insane? Eerie, mocking laughter echoed through the roar of the flames. Yareli glimpsed more monstrous figures outside the window. Once again, something familiar about them struck her.
"It can't be."
"You killed us, Fenrir," the fox monster said. "Slaughtered us in droves. But we Niflhel don't die. Kill us, and we'll only rise again. This little shop will be your grave."
"Damn you, Reine." More ghosts returned to haunt them—only this time, more personally. A pang of guilt struck her, the pain of slaughter returning with a vengeance. While the Niflhel had deserved it, she'd been a ravenous beast, lost in her fury.
No, she couldn't allow any distractions. "Then I'll send you all back to hell, where you belong! Henshin!"
"Murderer! Butcher! Monster!" Voices came from every angle, judging her for her sins.
"Shut up!" Yareli charged, claws extended. "I'm not a monster! I'm not!"
But her opponent proved agile, slipping away before her claws struck. Instead of hitting back, they kept on the defensive. Her tormentors continued taunting her—a living reminder of her greatest shame. Yareli's rage boiled past the breaking point, incensed beyond words.
A sofa toppled as they leapt over it, continuing their fight in Gramps' meager living room. Flames roared around her, but Yareli was still too furious to notice. She screamed at the monsters to fight her, but they only dodged and evaded.
Gramps' old TV set shattered as she threw it into the fox monster, finally getting a hit on the annoying creature. Her claws tore through its flesh as Yareli slashed with savage fury.
"I'm not a monster, you bastard!" Her next strike crumbled half the creature's face. She raised her claws for the killing blow, pausing as something caught her eye. Out in the store area, the flames were reaching toward the first painting she'd made after her rebirth. The curtain dropped as realization struck. What the hell was she doing?
Forgetting the Niflhel entirely, she charged through flames toward what really mattered. Tears came unbidden as the flames licked at the canvas, lighting its corner on fire. Yareli dismissed her armor and flapped at the flames.
"How could I forget?" Yareli held the slightly scorched painting tight as she removed it from the wall. The blare of sirens was almost deafening. It reminded Yareli she still needed to escape. Cradling her prize, she dove through a nearby window. People gasped in surprise as they saw this strange, helmeted girl leap from a burning building.
"Over here!" a firefighter said. "We have a survivor!"
"It's okay." Yareli waved the man away as he tried to administer aid. Her head darted around for any Niflhel but found they'd already vanished.
The shop's loss tore at Yareli's soul. It had been her only home for as long as she could remember. How could she face Gramps after this?
"Damn you, Reine. You are going to regret it!" Yareli thought, not fighting back the tears.
///
"It's finished," Reine said, nodding as her pet Niflhel reported the situation. "This will keep them distracted." The fire at Fenrir's place was a nice touch. It'd engage the monster past the point of reason.
"Excellent work. Your execution was flawless. Niflhel's return has petrified Bifrost." Surtur had a wire attached to the nape of his neck, connecting to a power outlet. It was something he did often. Whatever system the robot used required a considerable amount of power. It was a useful weakness she'd exploit if necessary.
"Just as I expected. The authorities are too busy to care about us. Random Niflhel attacks will keep them on their toes." And it'd buy them plenty of time to complete whatever Surtur had planned.
The robot looked pleased—a surprisingly human reaction. In an instant, her mood darkened. "Don't look at me like that!"
"Sorry?" Surtur said, not understanding his ally's sudden outburst.
"Never mind." Reine turned away, avoiding looking at the man she killed's face. "I'll give the Niflhel more instructions on where they should attack."
"Very well." Surtur nodded, unbothered by Reine's odd moods.
"Wilson is dead. This creature's just a shell. How can he give me the same smile as the late president?" Reine thought. It unnerved her in ways she couldn't understand. Despite being emotionless, she'd seen much of Wilson in Surtur beyond the shared face. It was like seeing his ghost.
She couldn't allow him to live, Reine decided. Once Fenrir was dead, she'd kill him next. That thing was an abomination.