by M. K. Gibson
Thanks, Dad. Keep the line clear and maintain monitoring.
Sure thing. However . . .
Dad, in the middle of something. Spit it out or save it for later.
I tracked that VK-7 jammer. I know who purchased it.
Dad told me. And I felt like I was going to puke.
“Kuma?” Grimm asked, his voice a thousand miles away. “Salem, is Kuma here?” he asked again. I nodded yes, still shaken.
“What is it?” Grimm asked, seeing the change in me. I just shook my head. Not now. Not ready for that.
“Later. Seriously, just later. Too much to do for now. Head in the game, right?” I asked, and Grimm nodded.
We got up and headed to the hall. Shock troops, hellions, and servants moved in every direction, reacting to the alarms. There was so much chaos in the crowded halls and paths that Grimm and I were barely noticed. We weaved as best we could through the throngs of people toward the great hall. The gothic stone architecture was built for massive demons to march imposingly. Not for hundreds of responders to—well, respond.
Ahead of us stood the doors to the great hall. Grimm and I held back along the hallway and hid in the shadows. The massive metallic blue and silver gilded arch doors were shut, protected by an energy field, and several hellion and human troop detachments were guarding the way. They were armed to the teeth, and unlike the rest of the idiots the archduke employed, these guys were standing their ground. And they were between us and Abraxas. If we had to go through them, then we would have to burn a lot of resources. And then we would have to deal with the energy barrier and then we would have to deal with Abraxas himself. Like it or not, that way was closed.
“Damn. Those guys are elite, and that barrier is no joke. We need a better way in,” I said.
Grimm nodded and then tapped me. “I have an idea,” he said.
“Am I going to like it?”
“No. You will not. Yet it is better than a frontal assault. Bring up the floor plan again. I need the nearest window facing out.”
Ahh hell, something tells me I really won’t like this.
********
Man was never meant to fly. Our perspective becomes skewed from what our brain perceives as unrecognizable heights. We become dizzy and panic. Something to do with vertigo and our inner ear. That being said, being over two thousand feet up looking down upon the cesspool of a city reminded me that I didn’t fly. And that I hated heights.
I really fucking hated heights.
How the hell had Grimm convinced me that crawling along the outside of the citadel on a narrow ledge that led to the exterior landing platform was a good idea? Because I was a complete idiot, apparently.
Grimm led the way. Both of us had our backs to the wall as we moved slowly along the twenty-inch lip below the citadel’s crenellation. I tried my best to keep from looking down. But every few steps I would look at my feet and feel the sway of the world beneath me. The roar of the wind at this altitude was deafening, and it was cold. I really missed my coat. Yet somehow Grimm’s hat remained firmly on his head.
“I think I prefer the idea of shooting our way through several cadres of guards and figuring a way through the impassible barrier to this shit!” I shouted in Grimm’s ear. The high winds all but muted my rant, buffeting the words.
“Just keep moving,” Grimm yelled. “The landing platform leads directly to the great hall and Abraxas’s throne room. And unless I am mistaken, it is the focal point of Kuma’s attack. Therefore, we will have allies and cover from the platform’s position.”
“All I heard you say was ‘I’m an asshole, and this was a dumb idea, forgive me.’”
“I do not use contractions. But basically, yes, that is what I said,” Grimm yelled. At least he still had his sense of humor. As we followed the curved bailey of the twisted citadel, the outer courtyard and landing platform came into sight.
From this vantage point I could see the source of the explosions. The Cyberai’s WHISPER-7 hovered broadside with the bay door open. Someone from inside the chopper was firing shoulder-mounted rockets into the seven minaret towers. Those must have held the communications for the stronghold as well as the jammers. From where I stood, the display of choppers and explosions was nothing short of Michael Bay awesome. Also, it was very clear we were one rogue shot away from falling to our deaths.
Guards from sniper positions above the great hall’s battlements were returning fire on the WHISPER-7. The energy shield deflectors of the chopper repelled the attacks, but I could see that the archduke’s men were now becoming organized. The WHISPER-7 moved like a sleek three-rotored hummingbird, avoiding larger ordnance, and came to hover directly over the landing pad. Rappelling lines were dropped and I got a good look at what my money bought me.
The warriors of Midheim.
In all their berserk glory they came pouring out of the chopper, adorned in the mixed ancient and modern armor with matching weapons, rappelling to the courtyard below. A door gunner laid down suppressing fire. The warriors landed, detached from the lines, took cover behind the stone statues, and immediately returned fire. The WHISPER-7 was large, holding over fifty men easily. And having fought with them, I knew that fifty free men and women of Midheim were more than the archduke’s men were ready for. The warriors moved in precision, firing, covering one another, advancing and taking ground all along the courtyard. The archduke’s soldiers retreated, taking cover behind the massive angelic doors and ducking down along the battlement walls.
By sheer shitty luck, one of the snipers above saw Grimm and me along the outer ledge. The untrained punk began firing wildly in our direction. Grimm managed to get a hand up and form a protective shield. However, the firing had drawn out our position to other snipers who were not inept. While they may have been pinned down directly from the Midheim warriors, they had a free shot on Grimm and me.
I held up my right arm and formed an energy shield with my tech bracer, repelling more of the errant sniper fire. Large-caliber slugs along with needle-thin white-hot plasma ricocheted away.
“Ung!” I grunted with the impact. We were able to repel the sniper fire, but our progress toward the landing platform was halted.
“We are pinned down!” Grimm yelled into my ear over the firing.
“You know, another time I would say something snarky about stating the obvious!” I yelled back. I looked down again, and my head swam. We needed to get out of there, and now, but I didn’t see a way. “Any ideas?!”
“I am working on it!” Grimm yelled, looking around and trying to figure out a possible escape.
“Do I have to tell you to work faster?”
“You could contribute! Do you have any ideas?!” Grimm snapped.
Two unified war cries split the evening firefight. Vali and Vidar leapt from the WHISPER-7 to the courtyard. Now that was a game changer. The Cyberai chopper began to depart and I got a good look at the door gunner. It was Taylor, the redneck mechanic from Midheim. The tall lanky hick was pretty good with the door gun. I could hear his Southern twang screaming “Git some!” while he fired controlled bursts. He held the main forces of the enemy down as the chopper descended below the building and took off into the night.
So much for a ride home. I had only paid Kuma to get some backup from Midheim if he didn’t hear from me in twelve hours. The Cyberai could not interfere directly. Techuza law mandated a contract could not directly counteract the previous contract. I guessed I should have parlayed a way out of there.
“Val! Vic! Need some help!” I screamed across the expanse. The firefight and wind made it all but impossible for anyone to hear us. Yet I saw Vidar turn his head our way. The silent god’s hearing was like a bat. He tapped his brother and pointed at us.
The two Norse godlings moved in our direction in a broken field run, avoiding fire. That was when our luck went from shit to fucked. Some watchful trooper with a 225-series COREFIRE Railgun Rocket Launcher followed the direction Vidar and Vali were running in, saw us, and open
ed fire.
The Railgun fired the projectile along a magnetic track. Once it reached activation velocity, the explosive became armed. The shot went wide and hit just above Grimm and me. The blast was deafening at such close range. Grimm and I had to duck our heads as chunks of stone and debris came down on us. I raised my shield to deflect the smaller stuff.
Then I felt it.
The whole section of wall we had our backs to was coming apart and about to take us with it—2,200 feet straight down.
“OK, here’s my idea!” I yelled at Grimm. I grabbed him with my right arm and kicked off hard from the wall, jumping into open sky. My cybernetic legs pushed us far, but not far enough to clear the huge falling section of the bailey that was coming right at us.
//HOST: MORTAL DANGER FOR YOU AND YOUR COMPANION DETECTED//
Yeah, no shit, Collective! Adrenaline, shitloads of it! Now!!
//AFFIRMATIVE//
I felt the rush of the mass-produced adrenaline and used it to focus. As gravity took over, there was a second of weightlessness, but to me it was a lifetime. The adrenaline fueled my nanite-enhanced neural synaptic pathways. I could see everything at once and dissect the course of action. I turned in midair to face the coming stone wall while re-positioning Grimm behind me as he gripped my throat and waist.
“Hang on!” I yelled to him, and I heard him grunt in understanding.
I fired both nano-filament lines into the top of the falling wall and retracted the line, pulling us toward it while pulling the structure’s top down at an angle. The wall dipped down as we came to it, forming a momentary ramp. I released the lines and they retracted back into the tech bracers with a whiz and a snap. We hit the wall and shoulder rolled. Even with Grimm’s added weight, I felt nothing. I took three running steps along the free-falling makeshift platform, leaped and launched the nano-lines again into the stonework along the lip of the courtyard platform.
As the lines reeled and became taut, the inertial snap jerked Grimm free from my back and he began to fall.
Panic flooded me. I swung my right arm down fast, snapping the filament line, spinning my head to look. I snatched the wrist of his outstretched hand and felt his bones break.
“AHH!” Grimm yelled, then gritted his teeth against the pain. In my adrenaline-fueled state, I forgot my own strength. I hauled him up and he threw his good arm around my neck. The remaining nano-line reeled us to the top, and I saw Vidar’s face peer over the ledge, framed by his coal black hair and goatee. His stern hard face cracked a lopsided grin as he shook his head at me. “Ballsy,” he said. High praise from the god.
“Hand,” he said as he extended his muscled arm. I offered him mine, and he pulled Grimm and me the rest of the way up as if we weighed nothing more than a pair of fat toddlers. I grunted and Grimm groaned as we breached the lip of the platform courtyard. Vali had his bow out and was firing, keeping any would-be snipers at bay.
Watching the god fire his weapon without thought was a thing of beauty. Target, draw, release, death, repeat. It was one of those odd things you notice during battle. A complete moment in its entirety when the world around you was going to hell.
I lay on my side and caught my breath. I reached for the synth-smokes I had gotten from Grimm and lit one right there. I offered one to Vidar, who cast a look at his brother.
“Go ahead. It isn’t like we are in a fight right now or anything,” the blond god said as he released another arrow, taking down one of the archduke’s men. Vidar took the smoke and nodded his thanks.
“I was kidding, you idiot!” Vali yelled.
The silent god simply shrugged, then gestured his chin toward the remnants of the destroyed bailey and exhaled the smoke.
“Where did you find the inspiration for that little move?” Vali asked between bow shots.
“Where indeed?” Grimm asked as he winced and clutched his shattered wrist to his body. He had produced a bit of cloth and began making a makeshift sling.
I sat up and helped Grimm with the sling, which he eagerly accepted. “Spider-Man comics?” I said.
“Hah!” Vidar laughed and helped us both to our feet. Grimm mumbled something I could not make out, and the cloth wrapping his wrist was suddenly as hard as stone. A magical version of my density jacket.
“OK, chuckle time is over. Get to cover now!” Vali ordered, and the four of us moved to a safer position behind a larger portable battlefield energy shield deflector. The small portable generator manifested a powerful half dome of iridescent energy. Perfect for a confined battlespace. Two warriors who were manning the position were firing from a kneeling position, taking partial cover. A tall bulky guy in makeshift leather and steel armor was firing an old .50 caliber machine gun while the shorter and leaner female was using a stock ARCTech G3 series plasma rifle and personnel response suit.
Between short controlled bursts, the big one yelled to Vali, “What’s the plan, Val?”
Vali turned to me. “Well Salem, we answered your invitation to this party. What is the plan?” I watched him do a quick count of his remaining arrows. He had nearly half a quiver-full on his back, plus a reserve stock strapped across his lower back and several small pouches of crossbow bolts on his thighs.
“The plan is we are going to push our way into Archduke Abraxas’s throne room and royally f up his day,” I said to the gods. Vidar just shrugged and nodded his head.
“OK, we are already committed to it, but why?” Vali asked.
“Because he has found a way to blend science and magic. He had some machines down in the hold of the citadel and the top of the building with racks of people. The machines they were in were using some kind of spell to siphon their souls and feed it to him.”
“But the great transubstantiation?”
“Doesn’t mean dick anymore.” I cut off Vali’s line of questioning. “Since you and your brother and anyone else like you are angelic, belief in you grants you soul power, while demons need to barter for it. But since coming topside, their reserves are drying up. Abraxas found a way to replenish his and to feed his retainers as well.”
I could see the intensity in Vali’s eyes. This was something serious to him. God may be a deadbeat dad. But he at least left a final parting gift. Demons now had to deal with a physical form on this plane. That meant adherence to physics and biology. I realized now that the angels, no matter what religion they came from, were created to exist on this plane. So souls would always benefit them as long as someone believed.
Demons, though—they were not made for this world. They wanted the Earth and they got it. But the fine print—that’s a bitch. No longer fireproof, no more immortality, and no more souls. No wonder they were a bunch of assholes.
“Then we have to destroy the mechromancy abomination at once,” Vali said.
“Technomancy,” I corrected, and Vali rolled his eyes. I tapped my tech bracer. “And everything is already rigged to explode.”
“Other than an escape route, what are you waiting for?”
“The next part of my plan to arrive,” I said.
“What is that?” Vali asked impatiently.
“All in due time, bud. Now, let’s get inside and take the fight to Abraxas.”
“Yes.” Vidar nodded. Vali looked at his brother with concern.
“You going lunar?”
“YES,” Vidar responded. His voice had changed. Thicker, deeper.
Vidar started pacing behind the portable energy shield, getting worked up. I saw this before, the berserker state. The veins in Vidar’s arms were dilating and rising further to the surface. His muscles were getting more pumped. He was shaking his head in an angry nervous tic. “Now!” he yelled.
Vidar turned and charged around the deflector toward the main door. His legs kicked so hard that the asphalt from the landing pad shot up in a gravelly spray as he ran. He pumped his arms and charged.
“Lunar?” I asked Vali again.
“Watch. Very few know people of Midheim know the truth about us. A
bout what we are. Other than you two, Taylor, and these elite fifty warriors.” Vali pointed to his brother as he ran straight toward the heaviest concentration of hellions and soldiers. “And in a moment, you will know the rest.”
Vidar ran into a hail of gunfire and energy weapons. The blasts hit him, ripped chunks of flesh, and burned his skin. Yet the Norse Aesir didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. He became larger. Longer. From behind the barrier I could see his arms grow to the point where he was running in a lope on all fours. His skin sprouted deep brown, black, and silver hair. The warriors of Midgard cheered and roared as their berserker leader transformed into a nearly ten-feet-tall werewolf.
“No. Fucking. Way.” I was stunned. “That is a goddamned werewolf!” I yelled at Vali, who smiled knowingly at me.
“Curse of Fenris,” Vali said, as if I was supposed to know what that meant. I just gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. “When Fenrir the Wolf killed Allfather Odin, Vidar was ordained by the Norns to destroy the great beast. To crush his head with his mighty boots. But what ol’ Snorri didn’t write down in the Eddas was that Fenrir bit my brother. And the bite of the Great Wolf carried with it the blood of the berserker.”
I stared at the bloodbath. Vidar’s wolfen form was terrifying. He waded through the opposition, rending and dismembering. I almost felt sorry for the hellions and troops. Then I remembered they had just tried to blow Grimm and me up and sent us falling to our deaths. So karma is a bitch.
“Are there others? Like him?” I asked. I saw Grimm and Vali both nod. “So werewolves are real?”
“Most of the monsters you ever heard of are real. To some degree or another. And the sons of Fenrir have walked this world for a long time.”
“Can he control it?” I asked.
He waved his hand in a sign of impatience. “Yes and no. Now is not the time. We must press the advantage.” Vali had cut off the conversation. He raised his fist, and the warriors on the field took note. “Press! To the Throne Room!” Vali ordered, and the warriors of Midheim began a systematic advancement toward the great entrance.