Halvorsen's weapon jerked as it intercepted a punch, deflecting it just enough to avoid direct contact. Surtur proved impossibly quick, Halvorsen only barely staying a step ahead. While the fake Wilson fought without any real martial skill, it didn't matter. After every exchange, Surtur's abilities grew better capable of predicting Halvorsen's movements.
Since Halvorsen feared even brushing Surtur, it stymied his efforts. It made him unable to take advantage of openings he could have exploited with his fists or legs.
"Dammit. If I don't finish this soon, I'm finished," Halvorsen thought, heart hammering as a punch slipped centimeters past his chest.
Halvorsen retaliated with a feint aimed toward the fake Wilson's exposed ribs. His opponent responded to the fake attack accordingly. But Halvorsen out-predicted him, following through with an attack the machine creature assumed wasn't real. Shards of metal shredded like paper from the proto-Ragnadriver's blade.
While he doubted it'd work again, it kept Surtur on his toes. Halvorsen dared not get predictable. His human instincts were his best advantage. Unlike ID-01, Surtur didn't even possess rudimentary emotions or humanity. He only responded with cold machine logic, fighting through calculations and not a warrior's spirit.
Sweat beaded his forehead as Halvorsen hurried his pace, not giving ID-00 the possibility of counterattacking. His attacks switched from feints to bold strikes, doing his damnedest to keep his opponent off balance. The constant change of tactics overwhelmed Surtur, who grunted as Halvorsen tore a decent chunk from his left leg. The wound patched over quickly, though the machine creature moved with a noticeable stiffness in that leg.
"What is that weapon?" Surtur asked, retreating toward the still-smoldering Surtur server room. Despite being backed into a literal corner, the fake Wilson analyzed the situation with cold logic and precision.
Naturally, Halvorsen didn't answer. He heaved heavy breaths, having not exerted himself this hard in years. While he'd inflicted some damage, Halvorsen couldn't deny his human body had its limits.
"Freeze!" Halvorsen cursed as several police officers entered, their footsteps thundering as they charged into the room. They focused their trained guns on the sword-wielding, burly man first. "Drop your weapon!"
"It's not me you need to worry about!" Halvorsen gestured toward ID-00. The cops blinked, hesitating upon seeing the strange naked man with smoldering, inhuman orange eyes.
The first officer shook his head, returning his attention to Halvorsen again. "I won't speak again. Drop your weapon."
"Dammit!" Halvorsen warily eyed his opponent. This situation only worked to Surtur's benefit.
His opponent watched the intruders with curiosity, Halvorsen seeing the gears spinning in his head. If Halvorsen dropped his weapon, it left him vulnerable to attack. If his opponent ignored the officer's orders, it'd only lead to an altercation Surtur would take advantage of.
Some semblance of a plan formulated in Halvorsen's head as his weapon clattered to the floor. "Okay, I'm unarmed."
The lead officer shook his head, trying to understand the scene in vain. His eyes flicked toward the charred corpses. "You're coming in to answer some questions. What is this, some new Ymir weapon?"
"Makes as much sense as anything else," said his companion as he cautiously approached Surtur. "Wilson, right? Are you uninjured?" His eyes widened when he noticed tears in fake Wilson's skin, revealing circuitry beneath.
"What the—?" He didn't have time to finish his sentence as Surtur's massive hand wrapped around his neck. A crack reverberated through the hallway. At blinding speed, ID-00 grabbed the officer's gun.
Burning pain stabbed into Halvorsen's chest as the bullet struck him. Despite preparing an ambush, he hadn't been quick enough. Fighting through his pain, he kicked the proto-Ragnadriver from the ground and grabbed it midair. Thankfully, Halvorsen intercepted the second and third bullets with his weapon. Still, his strength ebbed from his wound, making the slightest movement of his torso agony.
While the first officer hadn't expected Surtur's sudden betrayal, he acted quickly and fired at the fake Wilson. His eyes widened when the bullets ricocheted off his skin.
"That's not Wilson," Halvorsen said through clenched teeth. "Or anything even human. It's an experiment that's gone horribly wrong. We can't let it escape! It will threaten the entire world!"
"Hold on!" The dire pronouncement took the officer aback. It wasn't the sort of sentence you'd expect in casual conversation. But the earnestness in Halvorsen's words broke past the officer's incredulity.
Surtur eyed them both, mulling over who was the easier target. While grievously injured, Halvorsen had a weapon capable of hurting it. The officer only had a useless handgun. This pondering only lasted a split moment. Surtur ignored the officer for Halvorsen, coming at him with lightning speed.
An endless barrage of punches and kicks pushed Halvorsen back. Despite his best efforts, Halvorsen barely avoided each deadly blow. Heat radiated from the creature, like Surtur's entire body was aflame. The officer tried to assist, hitting a potshot whenever a vulnerability appeared. But Surtur didn't even flinch as the bullets collided with his head.
"Oh God, it's just like fighting the Niflhel!" Despair tinged the officer's voice. He frantically spoke into his comm, calling for backup.
Horror traveled down Halvorsen's spine when his back struck a wall. Surtur had cornered him against the doorway leading toward the Surtur server room, and Halvorsen wasn't confident he could slip past ID-00.
"It's over," Surtur said in his inhuman, mechanical voice. Halvorsen detected a hint of gloating within it. Minute, but still present.
"No!" With reckless abandon, the officer threw himself onto Surtur's back, trying to pull the creature away. The man's death inhuman screams as his body lit aflame would haunt Halvorsen's nightmares, but it provided the perfect distraction.
Surtur realized his mistake, swinging his arm to bludgeon Halvorsen's head. Despite his injuries, Halvorsen ducked away. His sword jabbed forward, impaling the metal monstrosity that wore his best friend's face. It staggered, unleashing a distorted, mechanical cry of pain.
"It's time to finish this!" Halvorsen twisted his blade to tear his creation in half, but Surtur did the unexpected. He jumped backward, ripping his body free from Halvorsen's proto-Ragnadriver. It inflicted terrible system damage, but not fatal. The creature stared down at the gaping hole, considering his situation.
Halvorsen uttered a curse as his body failed him, struggling to stand with his waning strength. While grievously injured, Surtur remained resolute. Could nothing stop this monster?
Before Halvorsen began his desperate last stand, heavily armed officers barged into the corridor. They wore SWAT armor and carried heavy-duty weaponry. Thankfully, these officers ignored Halvorsen and focused their weapons on the orange-eyed machine man with a gaping hole in his chest. The late officer must have properly conveyed the seriousness of the situation.
"Stand down, or we will fire." The lead officer's voice offered no room for argument.
For the first time, Halvorsen detected hesitation in Surtur's body language. In its condition, the situation seemed untenable. The fake Wilson stood stock-still, face impassive. Halvorsen moved to prevent any escape, but his body failed him again. The proto-Ragnadriver clattered to the floor from his nerveless fingers as he toppled over, no longer having the strength to stand.
ID-00 took this prime opportunity, rushing Halvorsen's prone form. The SWAT team opened fire, their rifles actually inflicting some damage. They left pockmarks on Surtur's skin, sparks flying as the bullets penetrated. Despite running on wobbly legs, Surtur remained undeterred and reached Halvorsen. To his surprise, ID-00 ignored him and ran past to grab the proto-Ragnadriver on the tiled floor.
"Don't let him escape!"
Bullets continued to tear through Surtur's body, but the machine man had what he wanted. He made a beeline for the nearby lab. It bought Surtur precious time to recover and create an escape path.
The SWAT team pursued the fake Wilson, but Halvorsen's heart sank when the ground trembled beneath him. The SWAT team's leader cried out in alarm and shouted unintelligible orders. Halvorsen barely heard any of it, pulling his body toward the waiting lab despite the blinding pain it caused.
Through the open door, Halvorsen saw what he'd feared. A hole sat burned through the tiled floor, creating a path to the floor below. Surtur had slipped away with a prize that would likely doom them all.
---
"I'm glad you came so quickly, sir," Anderson's partner said as he approached the tower, the center of Ymir's power. It was an impressive building, speaking of the technological mastery of the company.
"What the hell has Ymir done now?"
Johnson hesitated, worry dominating his features. Dear God, that wasn't a good sign. "It's best you see yourself, sir."
"And someone did this?" Anderson said, studying the remains of a charred corpse. He made a face, trying to ignore the smell of charred meat as he examined the scene. The damage rendered the body unrecognizable. It was what you'd expect from being trapped alive in a burning building. But the surrounding ground was spotless, the poor, charred victim the only sign of any fire occurring. Had an Angra Armlet been involved? No human could have done this.
"A half-melted badge we found identified him as Officer Agnar. His partner, Gretsch, is over there, neck broken." Johnson pointed toward the blanket-covered body slumped on the floor. "The actual fire started in that computer room."
"Any witnesses?" At a glance, Anderson noted the signs of gunfire, fired upon a single person. Was this the result of the SWAT team he'd seen outside?
"Besides the SWAT team? Two. Doctor Halvorsen and Jessica Lauper. The good doctor is being treated for a gunshot wound. We found Lauper hiding under a desk in that server room. She's suffered smoke inhalation and a few second-degree burns, but the doctor assures me she'll make a full recovery. There shouldn't be any issue talking with her."
"We'll do that. Førre led the team, right? I wonder what he'll say about this debacle."
Anderson's hackles raised, his cop instincts telling him they'd finally entered the storm. His deepest fears told him this was a tempest they'd likely not survive. Best text Bifrost's local superhero right away.
---
"He's this way!"
Surtur watched as armed men ran past his hiding spot. The Ymir offices provided plenty of hiding spots. The humans had proven more resourceful and dangerous than his estimate had ever expected. One human even had the power to transform into a fearsome bear-like creature, joining the hunt against him.
Surtur frowned, studying the prize he'd stolen from the man called Halvorsen. It was a fascinating device with untapped potential—but incomplete. It had some mechanism he didn't yet understand. He needed more data, but pursuing such knowledge proved difficult.
"Bothersome." He'd tried the database accessible by the local computers, but their information had been useless, tertiary. It contained only vague hints of what he sought. With time, Surtur would unveil their secrets, but the humans hunting him made such an action difficult.
"What the hell? Why are you in my office?" Before the man could protest further, Surtur snapped the bothersome human's neck with a single slap.
He glanced down at the corpse. It wasn't enough. Killing one human at a time wouldn't help fulfill his purpose. While Surtur already possessed the key to bring about human society's destruction, they had weaponry capable of damaging or even destroying him. His current abilities weren't enough.
A quick scan of the man's phone revealed information of little importance, but a small tidbit caught Surtur's attention. Yesterday, the man had received a spreadsheet containing the public finances of a company called Ophion Industries. He claimed to have found suspicious funding tied to an unspecified project cloaked as microchip research. The dead man believed it might have some correlation to top-secret weapon manufacturing. His last message mentioned coming in early to investigate a potential connection to Simensen's mysterious Ragnadriver.
"Ragnadriver?" That name matched the device he'd taken from Halvorsen. It was obvious the device Surtur held was an incomplete prototype. If Ophion had developed a working version, then it was an avenue worth investigating.
"This building is too dangerous." Staying would only lead to his destruction. The public records stated Ophion was a small company, and it seemed likely its defenses wouldn't be as tough. Surtur nodded, concluding he'd gain little by remaining at Ymir's central headquarters.
"There you are." The one-eyed bear monster smashed through cubicles as he rushed toward his quarry.
"How bothersome." Surtur spotted a window nearby, already planning the course of his escape. They stood on the 149th floor, but with careful maneuvering, Surtur concluded he could descend while inflicting only minor damage on himself.
Glass exploded as Surtur hurled himself out the window, the shards leaving little gashes in his skin. His hand grabbed the side of the building, fingers shredding concrete as he slid downward. Surtur carefully controlled his trajectory, avoiding taking on more speed than he could handle. As expected, the bear-human didn't follow such a dangerous course, instead taking an elevator to cut Surtur off at ground level.
Time wasn't on Surtur's side, so he dropped twenty floors to the street below. Outside, guards cried in alarm, but he ignored them. A woman exiting her car yelped as Surtur hurled her aside and entered the vehicle. It only took moments for him to hack the car's control system.
Guards opened fire to stop him. It mattered little as Surtur drove through the wooded barrier at the checkpoint at high speed. Cars beeped in protest as he cruised through Bifrost with his usual machine precision.
---
"Here? You built this place up in your message." Johan had taken them to a rundown diner in a sketchier part of Bifrost. Yareli had hoped for somewhere fancier for Johan's apology meeting.
"The place has the best fries. Samuel and I come here frequently."
"But I can't eat, Johan," Yareli thought, but followed him inside anyway. A portly man with thinning hair greeted them as they took a booth.
"The usual, Kal," Johan said.
"And the lady?" Kal asked.
"Nothing, please," Yareli said, getting an odd look from the proprietor. She still hadn't removed her helmet. After a moment, Kal shrugged and left to take Johan's order. From the Jotnar's eager expression, he looked starving.
"The soup here is pretty good, too. Kal tells me it's a recipe from his dear grandmother. I've met her once—nice woman."
Yareli gave a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgment, allowing Johan to fill the silence. He continued to ramble on. She waited patiently for him to remember why they'd agreed to arrange this meeting in the first place. The food soon arrived, and Johan dug into his fish and fries with eager gusto.
"Huh, Justus Karl-Heinz got injured?" Johan frowned, chomping on a fry while watching a nearby television. "You have got to be kidding me! He's Bifrost's best player! So much for our World Cup dreams."
"I can't believe I'm just now learning about this! This Ymir business is keeping me way too distracted!" He smiled in delight as a Ymir commercial appeared on-screen, singing along as the company's idol sang in a jaunty little tune. Yareli remained silent while Johan discussed the finer points of Bifrost's football team. The air became awkward when Johan finally realized that Yareli hadn't said a single word in the last thirty minutes.
"Not a fan of football?" Johan gave a nervous laugh as Yareli surrendered nothing about her current feelings. More silence passed between them.
"Okay, fine. I'm sorry!" Johan blurted, cheeks flushed red. "It was stupid of me to keep that secret for so long, okay? Just say something, please!"
"Fine. I forgive you." While his apology had been a complete train wreck, it had been heartfelt. She supposed she couldn't blame his reasoning for joining that snake Simensen, even if she disagreed with it.
Johan sighed in relief, the tension fading from his face. "Remind me never to get you mad again, jeez."
That brought a chuckle to Yareli. "Yeah, I'm bummed about Karl-Heinz getting injured, too. I've been following his career since college. We actually attended the same university, but I've never actually met him."
"You like football?"
"Yep. Father's a big fan. I've been watching it since I was little cub. Despite their flaws, Bifrost's national team is my favorite."
"Really?" Johan was delighted they had something in common.
"Yeah, I've been to almost every World Cup. It's a bit of a tradition." She inwardly winced, realizing the impossibility of continuing that tradition with her current situation with her father. It hurt her more than she'd expected.
"And let me guess, you always got the best seats, too," Annoyance crept into Johan's voice. "I wasn't far off about you being a spoiled princess. Some of us haven't even attended one World Cup!"
"My father likes to travel." Yareli could only offer a shrug in response. "He's actually taken me to many places. I remember one year we went to Hawaii for almost a month. We flew first class!"
"Really." Johan poorly hid his annoyance. Yareli found she enjoyed riling him up. If she had lips, she'd be wearing a smug smile.
"Seriously, though. Gramps and I have been saving up to attend this year's Cup. You could come with. It wouldn't be a bother."
"What, and see Germany win again? No, thanks." Johan rolled his eyes, but he seemed open to the idea.
They chatted a little longer, discussing and complaining about the various trappings of Bifrost's team and football statistics. Yareli enjoyed the conversation. Besides Gramps, she'd had little opportunity to talk with someone for this long. They broke into random other topics, and the diner soon bustled with business as lunchtime arrived.
Kal visited their table more than once, annoyed that Yareli continued not to order anything. He kept throwing her furtive glances, wondering what her deal was. Johan yawned and stretched his stiff arm. It clearly still caused him a great deal of discomfort.
"Are you doing okay, Johan? I'd forgotten how badly you got hurt."
"I'll survive. Let's get going. Maybe Rebecca uncovered something useful."
Not knowing Mark Wilson's fate made her nervous. The distraction had been nice, but duty called. Yareli stood to leave, but Johan stopped her.
"Actually, Ilma, I wanted to give you something first." Johan fetched a small box from his pocket and presented it to Yareli. "Think of it as an apology gift."
"Oh?" Yareli opened it to reveal a small brooch shaped like a butterfly. Its bright blue colors stood out against its silver frame. While not expensive, it was pretty, and Yareli adored it.
"Davidson told me Yareli means 'small butterfly.' I thought it was appropriate, though I wasn't sure if you liked cute things," Johan said somewhat bashfully.
"I love it." Without hesitation, she attached it to her biker outfit. Its blue coloring stood out against her black suit. It brought unexpected happiness to her heart. She hadn't received such a sentimental gift in too long.
"Believe it or not, I actually like cute things. I'm not really the super-tough tomboy everyone thinks I am." While she possessed a considerable talent in martial arts, she'd only partaken in it because of her father's insistence.
"Really?" Johan wanted to ask more, but the buzz of Yareli's phone interrupted the conversation. It was from Rebecca.
"Hello?" Yareli asked. "Did you find something out about Wilson?"
"Ilma, something terrible has just happened." Rebecca sounded awful. Had she been crying? "Come to St. Lucy Hospital right away!"
"What happened?" Yareli asked.
Rebecca sniffed, confirming she had been crying. "My mom has been badly hurt."
"What? That's terrible!" Johan said, overhearing the conversation.
"She was at Ymir's headquarters when it happened," Rebecca replied, her friends sharing a confused glance. Her mother worked for Ymir? "It isn't clear what happened yet. But I'm almost certain it's something terrible. Detective Anderson is here."
"We'll be there soon." Johan tossed Yareli a nervous glance and called for their check.
The dread that had been bubbling under the surface had finally shown itself. In her bones, Yareli sensed something terrible had happened.
Their troubles had only just begun.