The projector flickered overhead, throwing waves of color across the walls of the theater and over the faces of the audience. Every explosion on screen briefly lit the rows in flashes of blue and orange, then plunged them back into darkness. The movie itself was trying very hard to be both romantic and exciting and succeeding at neither, but Shane barely noticed. For him, the whole night had narrowed into a very specific problem seated three inches to his right.
Erin's hand was resting near his.
Not on his hand.
Not quite.
But close enough that it was no longer accidental.
She had shifted toward him gradually over the last thirty minutes, never in a way that would embarrass either of them if he pulled away, but steadily enough that the intent was obvious. Her shoulder had drifted a little closer. Her laughter at the movie had turned softer whenever she leaned toward him. Twice now her fingers had brushed against the side of the shared armrest, not touching him directly, but making it clear she would not object if he closed the distance.
Shane noticed all of it.
That was part of the problem.
He wasn't oblivious. He wasn't even uncomfortable because she was doing anything wrong. Erin was warm. Pretty. Funny in a quiet way. She had listened intently at dinner. She had opened up about parts of her life that most people kept hidden until they felt safe. Under any sane set of circumstances, Shane would have appreciated the moment.
But his life had become aggressively unsane.
He subtly shifted the bowl of popcorn farther into his own lap, putting a little physical distance between them without making it look like he was recoiling. Erin's hand stayed where it was. He could still feel the warmth coming off her.
Across Erin, Amanda sat angled toward Gary, but Shane could see in the dim reflected light that she was also very much aware of what was happening beside him. She was trying not to grin.
Gary, meanwhile, was pretending to be invested in the movie while clearly reading Shane's tension with alarming accuracy. Every now and then Gary glanced sideways, and every one of those glances said the same thing:
You alright, boss?
The answer was no.
Shane felt like a man trying to disarm a trap with work gloves on.
Because that was what this was now.
Not a date.
Not just a date, anyway.
A possible reconnaissance mission with popcorn.
A possible divine encounter with reclining seats.
An espionage operation disguised as a social favor.
Because the girl beside him might be interested in him…
…and also might be Frigg.
Or Freya.
Or another dormant Norse entity.
Or something else entirely.
And the worst part was that Shane still wasn't sure which possibility made him more nervous.
On screen, someone kissed in slow motion while a car exploded behind them.
Shane stared at the screen and thought: This is ridiculous.
He leaned slightly toward Gary.
"Excuse us for a second," Shane muttered, keeping his voice low. "Gary, you want a refill?"
Gary was on his feet before the sentence even finished.
"Absolutely," he whispered. "Movie this good deserves more sugar and salt."
Amanda didn't look at them, but Shane saw her mouth twitch.
The two men slipped out into the aisle, squeezed past a couple who looked mildly annoyed, and stepped into the hallway outside the theater.
The moment the theater doors swung shut behind them, the sound of the movie dulled into a muffled wall of noise.
Shane turned immediately.
"Dude," he whispered, "I need help."
Gary blinked, then crossed his arms.
"That serious?"
"Yes."
Gary's expression shifted from teasing to attentive.
Shane rubbed the back of his neck.
"Erin's doing the hand thing."
Gary stared at him for a second.
Then he actually had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.
"Oh no," he said solemnly. "Not the hand thing."
Shane gave him a flat look.
"I'm serious."
Gary nodded quickly.
"Right. Sorry. Serious."
Shane exhaled hard.
"I don't want to lead her on."
Gary's face softened.
"Okay."
"I mean it," Shane said. "I can't. Not right now. Not with everything going on. Not until I know who she is. Not until I know what I am."
That landed.
Gary leaned one shoulder against the wall beside the posters for two upcoming action movies and gave him his full attention.
"Yeah," Gary said quietly. "I get that."
Shane paced a half-step, then stopped.
"She's nice, Gary."
"I know."
"She's genuinely nice."
"I know."
"And if I were just…" Shane stopped himself, frustrated. "If I were just me—"
Gary raised an eyebrow.
"You are just you."
Shane laughed once, humorless.
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah," Gary said. "I do."
For a second they just stood there, two men in a theater hallway talking like middle schoolers except one of them had time travel and the other knew gods by name.
Then Shane spoke again.
"I need an exit strategy."
Gary tilted his head.
"Like… tonight?"
"Yes."
"But not a rejection?"
"Exactly."
Gary rubbed his jaw.
"Soft pivot."
"Yes."
"So she doesn't feel stupid."
"Yes."
"And so Amanda doesn't kill us for mishandling the setup."
Shane pointed at him.
"Also yes."
Gary nodded slowly.
"I'll talk to Amanda. We'll steer it into more of a group thing."
"Thank you."
Shane was already pulling out his phone.
Gary saw the motion and sighed.
"Who are you calling?"
"Olaf."
Gary stared at him.
"Of course you're calling Olaf."
Shane ignored him and sent the message through the system instead of the phone.
Olaf. Need to talk about my "date." Her name is Erin and she has celestial energy. Emergency.
The answer came back almost instantly.
I am here.
Shane's jaw tightened. He quickly explained the reading the system had given him, her age, her family anchor, the weak dormant pulse, and the Greenland-via-Norway heritage she had mentioned.
Olaf's mental response was immediate.
Well, it is not Freya.
That answer came with such calm certainty that Shane paused.
How do you know? he asked.
Olaf's reply carried the faintest trace of amusement.
Freya is many things. Subtle is not one of them. And she would not bury herself quietly as a waitress unless it amused her to do so, which is possible, but unlikely in this case.
That was somehow both reassuring and not reassuring at all.
Then Olaf continued:
Bring her here. If I can get close to her, I will know more. Proximity matters. Reading dormant resonance from across distance is guesswork. Reading it from contact is not.
Shane nodded to himself.
"Good idea."
He immediately messaged Gary and Amanda through the system.
Plan change. Movie wraps up early. We're going to the training center next. Tell Erin I need to meet Olaf because of my fight. Tell her she can meet the heavyweight champ and see the gym. Sell it hard. Get her in the car.
Gary got the message and nodded.
"Got it."
Amanda's acknowledgment came a second later.
The two men headed back inside.
⸻
Amanda barely waited five minutes before making the pivot.
She leaned over toward Erin just as the movie hit another loud sequence.
"Okay," she whispered with a little conspiratorial smile, "change of plans, but actually a cool one."
Erin looked over, curious.
"What happened?"
Amanda tilted her head toward Shane.
"Apparently fight stuff."
Gary chimed in quietly from her other side.
"Shane's opponent may be having weight issues or contract drama or something equally annoying."
Shane gave Gary a look that said that was vague but acceptable.
Amanda continued smoothly.
"He needs to stop by Olaf's training center after this."
Erin blinked.
"Olaf? As in…"
Gary grinned.
"Yeah. As in the heavyweight champion."
Erin looked surprised, then impressed.
"No way."
Amanda nodded eagerly.
"He's got an open gym tonight, and honestly, it's kind of amazing in there. We figured if we're already all out, why not swing by? You'd get to see where they train."
Erin looked from Amanda to Shane.
Shane forced a smile that he hoped looked normal and not like a man trying to conceal divine paranoia.
"I'd appreciate it," he said.
Erin hesitated only a moment.
"Sure, Shane. I don't mind."
A wave of relief moved through him.
The social trap had been redirected into a potentially apocalyptic one, which was somehow preferable.
He leaned back in his seat and tried to watch the movie again.
He failed.
⸻
The drive toward Olaf's training center was loud with conversation and strangely normal.
That was mostly Amanda's doing.
She had a gift for finding the middle ground in any situation and steering people there. By the time they were ten minutes into the drive, she had Erin laughing again, Gary was telling a story about the early days of Albright Roofing that made him look much dumber than he actually had been, and Erin seemed comfortable enough that the awkwardness from the theater had thinned out.
Gary played his role well.
"So yeah," he said, half-turned in his seat, "most people hear 'roofing company' and think ladders and shingles. They don't realize Shane somehow turned the thing into a whole actual operation."
Erin looked toward Shane.
"So you really own all of that?"
Shane kept his eyes on the road.
"Yeah."
Gary snorted.
"Look at him being humble."
Amanda laughed.
"Don't let him fool you. He acts like it's no big deal, but half the people around HQ basically owe their lives to him in one way or another."
Shane groaned quietly.
"Please don't oversell me on the way to a gym."
Erin smiled.
"I'm not exactly intimidated."
That should have relaxed him.
Instead it made him more alert.
Because she meant it.
Then his foresight flared.
Not a warning.
A spike.
A violent, searing pulse that hit hard enough to make him grip the wheel tighter.
Apex Negativa.
The understanding came with the sensation.
Then the vehicles moved.
One black SUV slid up along the driver's side.
A second matched pace along the passenger side.
A third tightened in behind them.
Shane's pulse slowed.
Everything inside him narrowed.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Hold tight."
Gary twisted around.
"What?"
Amanda had already seen it in Shane's face.
"Everybody stay calm," she said softly to Erin, even as her own voice tightened.
Another foresight pulse hit.
A fourth SUV was moving in from the front lane.
Box formation.
Clean.
Coordinated.
Not street-level muscle.
Not random intimidation.
These people had training.
Shane hit the accelerator.
The truck surged forward.
The SUV to his left edged inward.
He corrected immediately, then jerked hard right as the lead vehicle tried to close the front angle.
The tires hissed.
The truck shoved through the opening.
Gary braced a hand against the dash.
"Okay," he muttered, "this officially sucks."
Erin had gone pale.
"What is happening?"
Amanda leaned forward fast, hand on Erin's shoulder.
"Probably gang pressure," she said, voice steady in a way that was only convincing because she wanted it to be. "Shane helps a lot of people. Sometimes idiots think intimidation works."
Shane didn't speak.
He was too busy driving.
Every second the system fed him micro-warnings—tiny directional flares, brief lines of possibility, where the SUVs would move next, how much space he had, what would happen if he drifted a foot too far left.
He sent the system message.
Olaf. Immediate backup needed. Heavy contact incoming. Guessing federal-grade thugs or AN-backed black ops.
The acknowledgment came back at once.
Understood.
The rest of the drive became a brutal cat-and-mouse sprint through traffic.
The SUVs tried to hem him in again and again.
He used short bursts of acceleration, hard lane cuts, and every dirty trick he had ever learned from years of driving overloaded trucks through bad roads and bad weather. But unlike weather, these men were thinking.
And unlike normal pursuers, they didn't spook.
They adapted.
The gates to Olaf's training center finally came into view like a slab of dark salvation.
Shane cut hard through the entrance, tires squealing as the truck shot into the lot and came to a violent stop near the main doors.
"Go," he barked instantly. "Gary, Amanda—get Erin inside. Now. Don't wait for me."
The moment the doors opened, all three scrambled.
Erin stumbled once. Amanda caught her.
Gary half-pulled, half-guided them toward the entrance.
Then the four SUVs slid into place around Shane's truck with terrifying precision.
The facility doors exploded outward.
Olaf emerged first.
He looked enormous under the floodlights, Gungnir already in his hands and humming with restrained force. Behind him Shane could feel movement inside the facility—people bracing, preparing, staying out of the line of fire.
Sixteen figures exited the SUVs.
Dark tactical gear. No visible insignia. Tight formation. Rifles raised.
A semicircle of force closed around the lot.
The lead agent stepped forward.
"Albright. Olaf. Step away from the structure."
His voice had the cold, flattened quality of someone reading off a command they expected to be obeyed.
"We require the female, Erin Olson, for questioning."
Inside the doorway, Gary went white.
Amanda's arm wrapped tighter around Erin.
Erin looked like she might stop understanding language altogether.
They're asking for her by name, Shane thought. That's bad. That's very bad.
Olaf's voice touched his mind.
My federal contacts are moving. I need identification. I cannot pull the right thread if I do not know whose hand is on it.
Shane nodded almost imperceptibly.
His system scanned the line.
Sixteen dark anchors tied to AN's influence.
One stronger than the others.
The node.
The command line.
"I've got the lead," Shane whispered.
Then he moved.
The world stretched.
He hit super speed hard enough that the asphalt, air, and distant building edges all seemed to pull into long warped lines. He was in front of the lead agent before the man's eyes fully tracked the movement.
One hand to the vest.
Credentials gone.
Then he was back where he started, breath hitting hard in his lungs as the strain snapped through him.
He placed the ID into Olaf's hand.
"One minute," Shane said. "I'll try talking first."
He stepped forward.
No weapon visible.
Hands open.
"Gentlemen," he said, voice clear, "you're armed, after hours, on private property, and you're surrounding civilians. This operation appears illegal. Do you have a warrant?"
The lead agent was still visibly stunned by the impossible theft of his credentials, but he recovered fast. His hand rose to his earpiece.
He listened.
Shane could almost feel the instruction coming down the line.
Get the girl. Now.
Olaf, meanwhile, was already making the necessary calls. Shane felt the pulse of support through the connection—a set of followers, contacts, and old loyalties being activated at speed.
Then the lead agent's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face went through three distinct expressions in less than five seconds: disbelief, irritation, then uncertainty.
He snapped the phone shut.
"Stand down," he barked to his people.
For one second the formation loosened.
But the danger did not drop.
The lead agent looked back at Shane and Olaf, jaw tight.
"We're not leaving without her."
Shane felt the quest line from earlier pulse through him.
Protect your people
The memory of Saul's wife hit him again.
The pipe.
The blood.
The timeline he had buried.
Something cold and sharp settled into place inside him.
Olaf saw it.
He gave the smallest nod.
Let's give them the show they deserve.
Shane teleported.
It hurt.
Less than before, but enough to remind him this wasn't meant for careless use.
He reappeared behind the line of agents.
The first three nearest him never even got a chance to turn.
He tore one rifle free, slammed the stock into another man's jaw, and drove a short brutal strike into the temple of the third. One collapsed instantly. Another stumbled backward into the hood of an SUV. The third hit the pavement without making a sound.
At the same instant Olaf rose.
Not jumped.
Rose.
The giant warrior lifted into the air with terrifying calm, Gungnir glowing in his hands. Pale blue light gathered at the spearpoint before lancing downward.
Three agents froze where they stood.
Not metaphorically.
Their bodies locked into hard sheaths of ice so fast the sound came as a crackling scream of winter.
Olaf redirected them with a subtle movement of his hand, and the frozen bodies drifted out of the immediate line of engagement like statues being set aside.
One of the remaining agents managed to bring his rifle up and angle it toward the open training center doors.
Shane saw the line an instant before the trigger pull.
He teleported again.
This time he came in so close the man didn't even get a chance to flinch.
Shane's hand clamped around the side of the agent's head and twisted.
The crack was loud enough that Gary flinched inside the doorway.
Amanda tightened her hold on Erin and forced her down behind the concrete entry pillar.
"Down," Amanda hissed.
Erin obeyed instantly, eyes wide with shock and terror.
The fight ended quickly after that.
It wasn't elegant.
It wasn't clean.
It was Shane and Olaf moving in terrifying sync, speed and brutality paired with celestial force and battlefield confidence.
Ninety seconds later, the lot was silent except for ragged breathing and the hum of one SUV engine still idling.
Shane staggered one step and caught himself.
Teleport strain.
Speed strain.
Adrenaline.
Olaf was already on the phone again, speaking in low, clipped tones.
"They are neutralized," he said. "Yes. They requested the girl by name. Yes. I need the operation buried."
He listened.
Then nodded once.
"The cover story will hold."
He hung up.
"My people will wipe the logs," he said to Shane. "These men will become a rogue operation that vanished."
Shane nodded.
Inside the training center, Erin had fully broken into shock.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God…"
She looked at the blood on the pavement, the ice still clinging to one of the nearest agents, then at Shane.
Then Olaf.
Her face had gone nearly white.
"What was that?" she asked. "Who are you people?"
Gary looked like he wanted to answer and had no idea how.
Amanda looked at Shane, then Olaf, then Erin, trying to decide which lie might do the least damage.
Olaf made the decision for all of them.
He walked toward Erin slowly.
Not threatening.
Not soft either.
Just inevitable.
Erin instinctively stepped back, but she had nowhere meaningful to go.
Olaf stopped in front of her.
His expression had changed completely. The warrior was still there, but something gentler had surfaced beneath it. Something old. Deep.
"It is alright," he said, and his voice had changed too, deeper and more resonant than before.
Then, with impossible tenderness, he said:
"My Beloved."
The phrase stopped the room.
Even Shane felt it.
Not because he understood it fully.
But because the words landed like something spoken too many times across too many lives to be dismissed as impulse.
Erin stared up at him.
Fear. Confusion. Recognition she did not understand.
Olaf lifted his hand and, very carefully, took hers.
The moment their skin touched, light flashed between them.
Not violent.
Not explosive.
Bright.
Warm.
The pulse rolled outward through the entryway and across the room like a wave of charged summer air.
Shane felt something under it.
Not ice.
Not Olaf's battle power.
Something else.
Warm gold. Steady. Familiar in a way he couldn't identify before it vanished.
The smell of ozone lingered after the flash.
Nobody moved for a full second.
Then Gary wiped his forehead and said the first thing he could manage.
"What… what did I just see?"
Amanda looked from Erin to Olaf, then to Shane.
Erin herself looked like she had forgotten how to breathe.
Shane pulled up the system interface with a thought.
The result came back still frustratingly vague, still stubbornly incomplete.
But enough.
He looked at Erin again.
Then at Olaf.
Then at the room full of staring people who all knew that whatever had just happened was not small.
"I have an idea," Shane said slowly.
His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
"And if that reaction means what I think it means…"
He looked back at Erin.
"…then she's a lot more than a waitress."
********************
"If you enjoyed Shane's journey, please drop a Power Stone! It helps the Common Sense Party grow!"