Mjolnir

by B. C. James

  She made her way to Earth when he finally released her. Before he let her go, Surt made it clear to Sif that Odin was completely aware of what was going to happen to her. Her defilement was actually a part of the deal.

  She could not go home with the knowledge that her own father-in-law had arranged her rape. She was completely confident that Surt was not just taunting her falsely. The most hurtful mocking was always cemented in an ugly truth. She may have been able to go home if she thought there was a husband there she could share her pain with and find a degree of solace. But the fact that Thor had not come to save her meant that he knew what was happening to her as well.

  Even if he didn’t know, she apparently meant so little to him that he made no great effort to find her. She had visions of him simply enjoying her absence as he caroused with one floozy after another.

  On Earth, she started coloring her hair black. She did this to hide the fact that her golden mane truly was a GOLDEN mane. During her self-exile she didn’t want to call any attention to herself. Hair of spun gold would definitely draw the eyes of men to her. With black hair and baggy clothes, nobody would look at her. And even if they did, she wouldn’t arouse any sexual interest, people would just think she listened to a lot of Marilyn Manson and leave it at that.

  She found she could hide and socialize in complete anonymity in emo culture. Even those few friends she did tell her story to, who to her amazement, actually believed her, didn’t really care. Apparently, their hardwired apathy toward most things extended to brushes with the supernatural. It seemed that if most of them ran into Bigfoot, they would probably just buy him a beer and try to dye his fur Kool-Aid red.

  Sif would occasionally come into contact with members of the Valkyrie as her emo friends and acquaintances either died of an overdose or killed themselves out of sheer boredom. They immediately recognized her as more than human, and could sense the Aesir blood in her, but by that time, Odin had closed Asgard and marooned most of its population on earth. Because of that, it was not unusual for the Valkyrie to occasionally run into a depressed and marooned god or goddess.

  As she had increased contact with the Valkyrie, a real strategy began to form in her brain. Her shame from the torture of Surt eventually became anger, and that anger a desire for revenge. As a member of the Valkyrie, she would be in a position to take that revenge. All she needed to do was convince them to let her join, backstab her way into leadership, and then wait until she could get her hands on Mjölnir. At that point, she would make them all very sorry.

  The truth was, while she was not steeped in the sort of catatonia that was Freya’s current reality, though she did experience that after Surt first forced himself upon her, like Freya, Sif was broken by Surt, but in a completely different way.

  The broken shards of Sif reformed as the woman who was now standing on the desert sand, leader of the Valkyrie, hammer of power in her hands, with her rapist standing only a few feet from her. For some reason, she froze at the idea of raising Mjölnir against him.

  “What, nothing to say to me, lover?” Surt smacked her butt with his flaming sword.

  Sif spun and batted the blazing blade away with the hammer. Swinging Mjölnir upward again, she caught Surt in the lower ribs. She felt one or two of them break as he comically flew into the air and pancaked on the ground.

  He stood up like nothing had happened to him and raised an eyebrow at her.

  “I see you remember that I like it rough,” he said.

  Sif saw Idun with a number of Valkyrie congregating around Katheryn while Baldr was several yards off casually blowing up zombies with laser bolts. She was not going to let herself get goaded into a solo fight with Surt when plenty of reinforcements were so close at hand.

  “I’ll be back, asshole. You just stay there and think about all of the things on your bucket list that you’re never going to get to do.”

  “Yeah, that’s just what I’m going to do, bitch.” Surt went back to sit on his boulder. He thought about killing her right then and there, but he was curious about what she would come back with. The potential for amusement trumped his need for instant gratification.

  When Sif got to where her troops were congregating, they all stopped talking. This had been happening more and more since she promoted Katheryn to Brittany’s spot. When Odin asked that someone be sent after Freya, Baldr, and Thor, Sif had sent Brittany because of the likelihood that it was a suicide mission.

  She suspected that Brittany had her eye on the top spot. Had she hung around much longer, Sif may have found herself on the wrong end of a power grab. This was not unusual. Regicide was very common among the Valkyrie. It could even be considered healthy. It ensured that the leader would always be strong and smart. If they weren’t, they could be replaced by someone who was stronger and smarter.

  Sif had gained her position by backstabbing her way into the second spot and killing the woman who was in charge before her. It was becoming pretty clear that she was going to have to get rid of Katheryn as well. She would have to put a bookmark in this issue and deal with it later. As the mistress of the hammer, Sif was confident that she was out of reach of any clumsy coup attempt.

  Sif didn’t bother to address their silence. Instead, she looked at Idun and directed a general question to anyone who could answer.

  “So, does anyone know who little Apple Annie here is loyal to?”

  “Sif,” Idun said demurely, “my loyalties are where they have always been, with the Asgardians. I have long served all of you, regardless of your interpersonal issues. Well, all of you…except Loki. I can’t stand him.”

  A groan came from a few feet away from where they spoke. “Yeah, I love you too, Idun.” Loki coughed out the words but still managed to give her a one-handed thumbs-up.

  Katheryn, Sif, and Idun gathered around Loki.

  “I thought he was a goner. Oh, well, I can fix that.” Katheryn had picked up her sword from the sand where Thor had dropped it, brushed it off, and was about to turn Loki into Nearly Headless Nick when Sif stopped her.

  “No, the pleasure of finishing Loki is all mine.” Sif gripped Mjölnir tighter. Just below the surface, she was just giddy with the anticipation of taking Loki’s life.

  Idun and Katheryn walked with her around to where Loki’s head was. The end of Loki was no small thing, and each wanted to see it up close and personal. Sif raised the hammer to deliver the killing blow to the forehead of the God of Lies when he spoke.

  “Wait…wait…wait…WAIT!” his voice pleaded.

  Sif had hoped he wouldn’t go quietly and that some begging would be part of his final moments. She kept the hammer high but stayed the blow to hear what he had to say.

  “Would you have last words, oh mighty God of Used Car Salesmen and Douchebags everywhere?” Sif poured as much sarcasm into her voice as possible.

  Loki coughed and looked at her with his burned and scarred face. He nodded that there would be last words. Sif kept the hammer high while Idun and Katheryn leaned in a little to hear him.

  With inhuman speed, he grabbed Idun by the neckline of her dress and pulled her to the ground. Loki then rolled on top of her with his knee pressed down on the center of her back. The shape-shifting god morphed his remaining hand into a set of claws that would have looked perfectly natural if they were from a Nightmare on Elm Street sequel.

  “I do this in the name of Surt!” He yelled as he ripped Idun’s throat out. She struggled beneath him as she bled out, clawing at her purse in vain, trying to open it.

  It was over in a few quick seconds. The speed and surprise of the attack had caught Sif flatfooted, and she hesitated in her strike against Loki. She blinked the surprise away, refocused, and brought Mjölnir down hard upon Loki. When the deathblow from the hammer reached him, however, all that was there was empty air and desert sand.

  The ground shook with the impact. Sif turned and saw Loki lying at the feet of Surt, with a wounded Fenris and Hela behind him.

  “Hey, a deal�
�s a deal.” Surt shrugged. “Loki was one goddess sacrifice away from completing our contract. Nobody said Freya HAD to be that sacrifice. She was just the one I preferred to have. Killing Idun finished it off. Not to be petulant but I can’t have you killing Loki and his kids now that they are my partners.”

  Sif was about to say something clever in the hopes that she would sound indifferent and in control, but there wasn’t a being present that didn’t know her words would be nothing more than false bravado. Before she could give any type of response, she heard Katheryn chime in.

  “This may be worse than we thought, boss.” She crouched over the body of a man as she spoke.

  Sif kept her eyes on Surt and backed up until she was by the corpse that Katheryn was examining. She looked down and recognized the man as Odin’s traitorous assistant, Simmons.

  “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what went on here Bel…I mean Sif. In all the confusion, somebody snuck up behind Simmons and cut his throat. Good job too. The guy is nearly decapitated. If I didn’t know any better, I would think this was the work of O.J. Simpson.”

  Sif stroked the area between her eyes like she was trying to ward off a wicked migraine. She didn’t really care that Simmons was dead, but she had a nagging feeling that she knew why he was killed. “Is there any more bad news that you want to give me or is that the end of it.”

  “Well,” started Katheryn, “the box with Surt’s…well…um…would the term ‘abandoned children’ fit here? Maybe not, whatever. The box with Surt’s stuff in it is missing.”

  “Is that it? Are you sure there is nothing else you can tell me? Any more bad news you can throw my way? Did you find an IRS audit notice for me in his pocket, or a failed pregnancy test?”

  “Well…”

  “Out with it.” Sif still held her head down, ready for another body blow of bad news.

  “Odin’s standing over there. Nice suit he’s wearing too, but you probably don’t care about that.”

  “And things were starting off so well. Is there anything hopeful you can tell me before I address these other issues?”

  “Well,” Katheryn said, “you still have Mjölnir…”

  Sif raised an eyebrow. “True.”

  “And if you’re really feeling frustrated, Thor is blinded and lying over there by Idun’s body. You can kick him a few times in the ribs if you think it will make you feel better?”

  “Your right Katheryn, I can do that. I think I’ll save that one for later.”

  “And finally,” Katheryn stated as she reached what seemed to be her big point, “There is nothing really keeping us here. We can just go away and let these morons fight things out.”

  Sif looked toward Odin, almost expecting him to wave. She looked to Surt, who did wave…and blew her a kiss. And she looked to Thor who didn’t seem to be doing anything at all worth talking about.

  “No,” Sif said with a rising tone of defiance in her voice, “I can’t leave. I’ve waited too long for this opportunity and its time all of these people paid.”

  “So, you’re going to risk all of us, every Valkyrie, because you’re still mad?” Katheryn’s tone was flat. She knew the answer before she voiced the question, but she needed all the Valkyrie to hear the answer.

  “Yes,” Sif said between gritted teeth.

  Katheryn pulled her sword from its scabbard and gave a charming little half-smile. “I guess we’re with you then.”

  As she said this, the sound of dozens of weapons being drawn was heard. Sif had never been prouder of her group. For this show of loyalty, she may even have to delay putting Katheryn down and finding a new second.

  On Odin’s side of the encampment, a lot of low I.Q. cannon fodder in hoods scurried around. Guys in white lab coats were checking tablet computers and fussing over the instruments on the sarcophagus. Two men were checking to make sure the sap from Yggdrasil’s root was continuing to flow smoothly. The witch was there as well, arms raised to the sky and chanting incantations. A dark mist was coming off of her and being sucked into some of the intakes located on the sides of the casket. Cast off to the side of where the work was being done was the box that had contained the condom Surt wore when he violated Freya.

  “It’s good to see you, Sif.” Odin’s voice was the fake sort of warm most people only hear at the office Christmas party from people they don’t like. “Surt, why didn’t you tell me she had survived?”

  “You know me, Odin. I don’t kiss and tell. Our deal only stated I wouldn’t start any war against you until someone else purchased my services. It had nothing to do with giving you status reports on your gift…or letting you know if she was alive, dead, or satisfied.” Surt winked at Sif. “If she didn’t want to go home when I was done with her, I figured that was her business.”

  Sif became incensed and stared daggers at Odin. “And you let this happen to me. How could you? We were family! You and Thor just let him do it. Have you any idea what I went through?”

  “Sif, I don’t know if you think too little of me or too much of Thor. The period of peace we have enjoyed with Múspellsheimr was all my doing. Do you actually think my idiot of a son would have been clever or brave enough to arrange it? Three days after I sent you to Surt, I told him you died in Múspellsheimr. That lie kept him from turning over the nine worlds to find you. If you lived through your trip there, I was just going to kill you when you got back to Asgard so that the integrity of the official story of your death would be maintained. You were sacrificed for the greater good, don’t you see that?

  Thor would not have been strong enough to make the hard decisions to secure peace with Múspellsheimr. His schoolboy love for you would have doomed us to war. Even if I could have talked him into giving you to Surt, he would not have had the strength to stand by the decision. It truly pained me to sacrifice you, but it had to be done. As a leader yourself, surely you can see that. Only someone with my strength and my foresight could make those kind of hard choices. Hopefully, the passing years and your own position have given you perspective on that. Deep down, you know I did the right thing; the thing my weakling of a son wouldn’t do. Do you know what he did when he was told you were dead? He threw away Mjölnir, left Asgard, and denied his own godhood. I’m embarrassed to call him mine.”

  The weight of all the years that she had placed Thor among those she blamed for her defilement fell on her like a ton of bricks. Odin had taken her trust, Surt had taken her soul, and her own sense of outrage and betrayal had taken her away from the one person who loved her so completely that the only way to deal with the pain of losing her was to walk away from everything he knew. She felt no relief at the thought that Thor had no part in her torture. She just felt empty and cheated.

  Sif looked at the hammer. She never had been very interested in why Thor threw it away, she just recognized his abandoning it as an opportunity for revenge against those she saw as her enemies…both real and imagined.

  Her husband had not been a party to her torture. Like Sif, he was a victim, collateral damage of an obscene plan. Losing her had broken him in many ways, and she held the biggest shard of Thor’s pain in her hand. She looked at him lying in the sand by Idun and felt sick.

  The woman Sif used to be may have rushed over to Thor and faced what was next with him. The woman she currently was just raised Mjölnir and screamed a violent battle cry to the heavens. Odin simply harrumphed in the face of her fury and raised two fingers in her direction. Were they in London, the gesture would probably mean something that ended in the words “and the horse your rode in on.” Instead, one of the guys in lab coats hit a button and everyone on Odin’s side scattered like rats.

  The top of the sarcophagus blew fifty feet into the air. Unfortunately for the slow-moving witch, things that go up usually come down. Were they standing on the set of a Monty Python skit instead of the Nevada desert, the squishing of the witch by the heavy lid would have actually been quite funny.

  Out of the box clambered a large pinkish creatur
e. It was hairless except for a wild red mop of hair atop its head. The face of the creature seemed to be at war with itself, some of the features looked like they wanted to be human while others looked more demonic. It was heavily muscled, but not in an appealing way. Instead of a classic Steve Reeves build, it was more of a cross between Andre the Giant, Lou Ferrigno, and a Rancor.

  The bones of the spine seemed distorted and punched through the skin of its back, giving the aberration an almost dinosaur-like appearance. Its thick fingers ended in overgrown nails that were long and mossy in color. To make this crime against aesthetics look even less appealing, it somehow appeared to be filthy, despite the fact that it had obviously just been born. There was a look of dull intelligence on its face but when Sif looked into its blue eyes she could see one thing loud and clear…

  “Thor!” She yelled.

  “Only partly, my dear. Only partly.” Odin walked over to the creature and began to look it over. “Hmmm, not my best work.” His tone was almost dismissive. “Do you remember when you helped me apprehend Thor at the stadium in Arizona? Before Freya and Baldr broke him out, we borrowed some of his blood and isolated his DNA.” Odin savored the memory of running Thor through with Gungnir and filling a vial of blood from the gaping wound. “We were going to make our very own Thor. Once that was accomplished, we wouldn’t need my buffoon of a son to control Mjölnir. The clone, thanks to its DNA, would be able to do it while being completely under my control. After we started this process, my research and development director suggested that if Thor DNA was good, Thor DNA mixed with Surt DNA would be better. Once we had his condom back in our possession, the recipe was simple.

  “I know none of you are scientifically savvy, so I will describe this in the language of the cooking shows that seem to be all the rage amongst you women. Take a pinch of Thor DNA, a splash of genetic fluid from Surt, mix in the sap of Yggdrasil, beat thoroughly with some cutting-edge technology, and fold in some rather effective spells from a chanting old Druid woman, and you get the creature that is standing before you. EVOO is optional.”