Anderson gagged as a vice-like grip tightened around his windpipe. His weak hand tried something—anything—to rip the hand strangling him away. But it proved useless, the monster attacking him opening its maw into a parody of a smile.
"Please. It's me, Anderson. I'm your friend." His voice came out a coughing wheeze. "Don't do this, Yareli."
The skeleton monster didn't seem to understand his words, lifting her razor-sharp claws to gut her prey. Without hesitation, she drove them deep into his chest.
Anderson gasped awake, heart beating painfully. Sweat trickled down his face as he breathed hard.
"Bert, is everything alright?" his wife, Lynn, asked in concern.
"It's fine." Anderson offered a weak smile. "Just another bad dream."
His wife's lovely face studied him with a worried expression. He'd had plenty of nightmares before—an occupational hazard—but none this vivid.
"5:09?" Lynn glanced at their alarm clock. "A little early, but never mind. How about I make some breakfast? Scrambled eggs and sausages?"
"And coffee. Black as possible." He gave his wife a grateful nod. She understood the stresses and dangers of his occupation, always doing her best to alleviate them. She was too good for him.
After dressing and showering, he joined his wife in the dining room. The TV showed an ad starring Ymir's premier idol, Reine.
"The AI on our smart cars offers the safest, most advanced in the world." The ad showed a replication of a traffic accident involving four different vehicles. Ymir's smart car demonstrated an impressive reaction speed, responding five times faster than other models.
The idol's image returned and gave her trademark smile. "Try one, won't you?" The ad ended with a catchy jingle sung by Reine.
They ate breakfast in silence, Anderson still brooding over his nightmare. The ghastly image of the bloody scene replayed in his mind—Niflhel corpses torn to pieces everywhere. He'd witnessed everything firsthand, watching as Yareli transformed into a monster.
The metamorphosis both surprised him—and didn't. He'd always detected a dangerous aura around the skeletal woman. Not malicious, but the sensation of being near a dangerous predator. While self-defense, and Niflhel had tortured her friend, he couldn't condone it either. It left him unsure what he'd do about her.
"Honey?"
Anderson blinked, giving his wife an apologetic smile. "Sorry, miles away. What was it again?"
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in having dinner with Mother tonight," Lynn said. "She's in town and dying to visit."
"That shouldn't be a problem." His retired mother-in-law loved springing impromptu visits on her daughter—something he didn't mind. With the Niflhel business concluded, there'd been an unusual calm. He'd expected more crime after the near-destruction of Bifrost's police department. But most of the city—including its criminal element—still seemed locked in a state of shock.
Anderson supposed the pseudo-military occupation helped, maintaining peace while the Bifrost Police Department restructured itself. Instead of relaxing, it only heightened his anxiety. He feared this was the quiet before the storm.
"You look plum tired, sir. Not sleeping well again?" His partner, Johnson, walked up to his desk. While still in disrepair, the station had regained some of its normal activity.
"The usual." Anderson shrugged, offering no further reply.
Anderson's day was lethargic; he found himself walking through the motions. Despite the unusual drop in crime, other matters occupied his time. Paperwork was always an ever-present menace, regardless of the city's state.
"The diner downtown?" Johnson asked when lunchtime arrived. "The usual?"
"That's fine." Anderson waved a dismissive hand.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened as a familiar electronics shop caught his eye during the drive to their favorite diner.
"Sir?" Johnson raised an eyebrow as he programmed a new destination into the car's system.
"I need to visit someone. Shouldn't take long." He needed to see if Yareli was still a danger.
Anderson took a tentative step toward the front door, and a bell rang as he entered. The store looked just as he remembered it—what seemed like ages ago now. Again, the bizarre painting caught his eye. It clashed terribly with the rest of the store's interior, and Anderson wondered why it was so prominently displayed. Was it created by a relative of Davidson's? His daughter in the States, maybe?
Minutes passed, but nobody came to attend to him—not unusual considering the owner's age. He contemplated ringing the bell again for the older man's sake. Before he could, yelling caught his attention. The voice sounded like Yareli. Curious, he slipped deeper into the store to investigate.
"I don't care if it's a trap!" Yareli said. "Halvorsen is my best chance to get answers, and I'm getting them—even if it means choking them out!"
"No!" a familiar young, dark-skinned man replied with a clenched jaw. "You'll be on your own! With my injuries, I can't help you!"
Much to Anderson's horror, he saw Yareli hadn't lost her monstrous transformation, sitting on the floor like a dog. Her skeletal ears were erect, her posture stiff. Several young people and Davidson sat around her, their tension palpable.
"True, but it isn't like walking into Ymir headquarters," another man with even darker skin said. "Just some house in the rich district. Besides, Yareli is stronger now. If it gets bad, she runs."
"Samuel's right," the only woman in the group said. "This is a great opportunity! We can steal his computer files remotely if Yareli slips in a USB drive."
Anderson rubbed his temple. What was his skeletal friend planning now? Didn't he tell her to leave the Ymir investigations to the police? While he wanted to step out to protest, something stopped him. These stolen Ymir files might be useful. The governor had announced an investigation, but it required time.
"No, it goes against everything you believe, Anderson!" he thought. The horrible scene of the Bifrost Police Department Massacre flashed through his mind. While unintentional, Ymir's negligence with their technology had caused the incident. He feared they might cause something much worse.
He supposed stealing some personal files from a scientist wasn't too bad, all things considered. Anderson couldn't believe he was contemplating this.
"Steal what, exactly?" Anderson took pleasure in the startled expression of everyone in the room.
"Who are you?" Samuel asked, reaching for his holster.
"Don't worry, he's a friend. This is the cop friend I told you about." Yareli waved a paw, trying to prevent the scene from escalating.
Davidson's aged eyes brightened in recognition. "Anderson, right? You visited my shop the other day."
"Are you here to arrest us?" Samuel said, eyes full of mistrust.
"Actually, I believe we can help each other. We've got a common enemy in Ymir." Anderson gave his best reassuring smile.
"You'll help us?" Yareli asked.
"But first, you need to explain why you're even meeting with Doctor Halvorsen," Anderson said with a nod.
Yareli and her friends explained recent events.
"And you think your real identity is this deceased Mallory Cotillard?" Anderson asked, sounding unconvinced.
"Only Halvorsen knows the truth," Rebecca said, jaw clenched. "I doubt even President Wilson knows what happened."
The whole situation sounded insane. Was Yareli the ghost of a deceased person? Could he blame her for being so desperate to uncover the truth about herself? Still, dark, bloody memories flashed through his head. A part of him argued Yareli was a danger to everyone, insisting he should be sending the military against her.
"Okay, I'll help how I can," Anderson said, rubbing his nose and reorganizing his thoughts. "I won't spill tears over some misplaced files. And Halvorsen invited Yareli to his home."
Much to Anderson's shock, Johan placed an Angra Armlet in his hand, a stern gaze in his eyes. "I can't fight. I'm counting on you to watch Yareli's back."
"Me?"
"Who else? With Samuel and I injured, there's nobody else," Johan said. "Unless you expect Gramps to fight?"
"I'm no fighter, and I'm needed for tech support and as a driver!" Rebecca said, digging Anderson's hole deeper.
"He's quite right," Davidson said. "We're counting on you, young man."
"But!" Anderson had no desire to transform into the same monstrous creatures that had terrorized his friends and co-workers. Still, could he deny this request? Otherwise, Yareli would walk into this trap alone.
"Fine." The words tasted bitter on Anderson's tongue.
"Excellent!" Davidson clapped his hands together and hobbled toward his workstation. "I'll create you your own Uhyre Key. The keys are fickle about their owners, and I doubt Johan's would work for you."
"Okay," Anderson said, wondering what he'd just agreed to.
---
"Are you sure?" Wilson asked. "This isn't like you. You aren't the type to change your mind."
"Positive," Halvorsen replied. "If I'm to stop Fenrir, I'll need your help."
"What's the rush?" Wilson studied his top scientist. "I thought you wished to complete your Project: Brokkr first?"
"I'm tired." Halvorsen sagged in his chair, the lines in his face becoming more prominent, like he'd aged decades in moments. This Fenrir situation was pressing the man past his breaking point. Wilson only wished he knew why. The man seemed barely rational these days.
"Don't worry. Tonight, I will reveal all." Halvorsen offered a weak smile, reading his old friend's mind. "I'm tired of carrying this secret any longer. Everyone deserves to learn the truth."
He'd suspected his friend had some involvement in Fenrir's creation. Wilson nodded, allowing the man to explain himself in his own time. Still, what guilt his old friend must be carrying—a terrible burden Wilson was happy to shoulder.
"This is a match I've been eager to conclude myself." He'd miss Fenrir once they'd defeated her. Their little rivalry had been an enjoyable diversion from his duties and pushed him to greater heights.
Like the Fenrir wolf of myth, she was an agent of chaos. It was a shame she refused to help his new world order. They'd need brave and honorable leaders like her.
His phone buzzed, and he answered it. "Wilson."
"Excellent news, sir," Lauper said. "We've finally completed the Surtur Equation. It's astonishing. Our projections say it works even better than we first predicted!"
"Splendid work. Provide Doctor Nomikos access to Surtur. He's been begging to play with it for some time. It should prove vital to complete the Rangadriver prototype's processor. Let him do as he pleases. His flights of fancy haven't disappointed me yet." Besides, the problems facing Ymir were more about production than research.
"It will be like Christmas for him, sir." After a light laugh, Lauper hung up.
"Good news?" Halvorsen's spirits brightened, seeming more like his usual self.
"With Fenrir gone, nothing will have the power to oppose Ymir."
---
Sten Simensen sipped his coffee, scanning various financial articles, trying to sense the market's direction and its turbulent waves. Despite how profitable he'd made Ophion Industries over the years, it was still a tiny fish in a larger pond. A slight smile came to his lips as he petted his newly minted Rangadriver. That situation would soon change.
While still a powerful force to be reckoned with, recent events had crippled Ymir's stock price and turned public opinion against them. It'd take only a single push to topple the once-mighty corporation. He only needed to locate the most vulnerable spot to push. His phone interrupted his musings. He smiled when the caller ID identified them as his Ymir contact.
"Yes." It had taken considerable effort to place his contact into their convenient position, allowing them to provide him with fruitful information. It's how he'd first learned about the Rangadriver. His spy didn't disappoint when they explained Wilson's newest scheme. "Good, keep me posted."
"Sir?" James asked, noticing his boss's expression.
"Wilson has laid a trap out for Fenrir. Even coming himself." Ymir's president was always reckless with his life. "The net is closing around her, but I suspect it's about to hit a snag."
Besides, he relished the opportunity to test his Rangadriver again. The power it offered was extraordinary. Together with Fenrir, they would defeat the troublesome Wilson, and Ymir would crumble to pieces.
---
Raindrops pattered against Yareli's skeletal body as she crept toward Halvorsen's manor. It wasn't a palatial estate, but still fairly well-sized. Despite her open invitation, Yareli wasn't taking chances. She jumped over the stone wall guarding the premises. Besides, she had no intention of scaring the servants with her wolf form. As her paws touched inside the grounds, a strange wave of déjà vu struck her.
"I've been here before." The familiarity of her surroundings left Yareli dumbstruck. It was surreal, like walking in a dream. Mallory must have come here many times.
As she approached the house, the sense of familiarity intensified. While richly appointed, it wasn't ostentatious or tacky. She peered through the windows, getting a better view inside, and searched for guards. Except for the bright light on the second floor, the house seemed empty.
"If you're done sulking around, how about you come inside before you catch your death of cold, Fenrir," Halvorsen said, standing in a far doorway. Rain pelted his stern face, but he barely noticed, watching Yareli with an intense gaze.
With a reluctant nod, Yareli followed him inside. Again, the strange sense of familiarity struck her, following Halvorsen down a hallway toward an office on the second floor. Walking inside was like stepping into a dream. She recognized everything, yet remembered nothing. Halvorsen caught her expression and body language.
"Is it familiar? I'm not surprised." Halvorsen sat at a desk, steepling his fingers. "You've been here many times."
"Really?" Yareli shook herself from her stupor and reminded herself of her mission. On the desk sat a desktop open to some figures and calculations she didn't understand. Rebecca had instructed that she only needed to insert the USB stick into a port. Her program would do the rest. How she'd accomplish such a feat remained unclear.
For reasons Yareli didn't understand, Halvorsen's face softened before hardening again. He left his seat and paced before stopping and gazing out a window overlooking much of Bifrost, remaining silent. Outside, rain pelted the window with a fierce intensity.
"He can barely keep still. Halvorsen isn't looking forward to this confrontation either," Yareli thought. She slipped a USB drive from within her chest cavity and inserted it into his computer tower. While awkward with her claws, she somehow managed it. Halvorsen missed her skulduggery, brooding on unknown thoughts. The light on the USB stick glowed red, indicating the program was working.
"Isn't it about time you explain everything?" Yareli said, disturbing the deafening silence. "What happened to Mallory Cotillard? To me?"
---
"She's done it!" Rebecca hooted in laughter. "I'm getting his files now!"
"Let's hope it has something interesting." Samuel crossed his arms. They stood cramped behind the hacker girl's laptop in her van, the rain gently tapping against the roof. They stood ready nearby in case the situation turned nasty.
"Are you in position, cop?" Johan said into his phone.
"For the millionth time, yes," Anderson grunted in annoyance. "Don't worry. I'm watching her back. I'm in the manor's backyard."
"So cold. Couldn't Halvorsen pick a better night to spill everything?" Anderson's voice crackled through the receiver, betraying a shiver.
"Keep your eyes open. I don't like this," Johan still couldn't believe Halvorsen had invited his mortal enemy over just to talk. It was absurd. The man had something planned.
"Interesting." Rebecca clicked her tongue. "Our good doctor's working on a new project—Project: Brokkr. What a genius. He developed this design in just a few days?"
"Wonderful. As if we didn't have enough problems." Samuel threw up his hands.
"No way!" Rebecca suddenly squealed with excitement.
Johan perked up. "What is it?" Even Anderson sounded curious.
"I found video files. Most are test footage of the Valkyrie System, but there's one in a separate folder. Dated the day Mallory supposedly died."
"Seriously?" Johan leaned forward. "Play it! It might be the clue we need about Yareli's past."
"And Halvorsen just left this sitting around on his personal computer?" Samuel said, both dumbfounded and amused.
"What an idiot," Rebecca snorted. "Who leaves incriminating evidence lying around? Playing it now."
The video opened on Halvorsen adjusting a bulky, early version of the Valkyrie armor. While crude compared to the current model, its design was unmistakable. Wearing it stood Mallory, her expression alight with excitement.
"There. It should be lighter on you now," Halvorsen said, stepping back.
Mallory flexed her arm experimentally and nodded. "Much better. I'm ready to test its combat capabilities."
"How about I help you with that?" said a new voice as a figure entered the frame.
Johan stared, breathless. "Impossible… it can't be."
---
"Mallory?" Halvorsen's expression tightened, unreadable. "Ah. So you've come to that conclusion. Not surprising, considering the mystery surrounding her."
Yareli opened her mouth to demand a clearer answer but froze as Ilma entered the room—helmetless, clad in her Valkyrie armor.
"I told you to wait downstairs," Halvorsen scolded.
"The risk Fenrir poses is too great. I overrode your prior command," Ilma replied, her hand resting on her sword's pommel.
"Stand down. Now's not the time to fight." Halvorsen sighed.
Ilma reluctantly relaxed, but her icy glare didn't fade. "She's an enemy. Fenrir is a threat."
"So willful," Halvorsen murmured. "She's acting far beyond her original design."
"Sorry?" Yareli blinked.
"It's better if I show you." Halvorsen's voice trembled. "Command word: J7-alpha-H2-beta-9. Shut down."
Ilma collapsed instantly, like a puppet with its strings cut. Yareli stared in shock, poking the motionless figure. "What the hell?!"
"Her designation is ID-01. I built her as a combat android—her personality and appearance modeled after my daughter."
"What? Then… what happened to the real one?"
Halvorsen studied her for a long moment. "When I saw that painting in Davidson's store, it confirmed my worst fears. Deep down, I think I always knew. Even without your memories, you're her—her walk, her voice, her habits. How could I not recognize you?"
"What are you saying?" Yareli's voice was barely a whisper.
"You've assumed you're Mallory Cotillard. But that isn't true. She died… in a tragic accident."
"If I'm not Mallory, then…" A horrible realization chilled her to the core.
"You already know. You just haven't dared to say it."
He hesitated, then finished, "You're my daughter."
---
"What are you doing with that? It's still a prototype," Halvorsen said.
Johan squinted—Ilma was smirking. Wasn't she always emotionless?
"I thought it was worth a test run," she replied. "Besides, doesn't a prototype-versus-prototype fight sound fun?" She raised her arm, revealing an old-model Angra Armlet and a familiar Uhyre Key.
"Impudent girl." Halvorsen sighed, massaging his temple.
"Let her enjoy herself. It'll give us good test data," Mallory said, rolling her eyes.
"Yes. Quite instructive," Ilma said, circling her opponent.
"Fine," Halvorsen muttered. "But don't damage either unit."
Mallory slipped on her helmet and assumed a ready stance. Ilma inserted the wolf Uhyre Key into her armlet.
"Terrorize!"
Ilma screamed in agony, collapsing to her knees as sparks arced across the device.
"Help me! Please!" Johan watched, horrified, as the armlet fused with her flesh. Her form twisted grotesquely into a hulking, lupine monster. She howled, eyes bulbous and vacant—no trace of humanity remained.
"Doctor, look out!" Mallory shoved Halvorsen behind her, placing herself between him and the beast's claws.