"What a dump," Reine said, her disgust obvious.
Pihu couldn't argue. Her suit's inbuilt camera displayed a sparse office with wallpaper peeling off the walls; she doubted the examination rooms were much better. People crowded around the swat building, many suffering from serious injuries likely caused by the riots. With most hospitals full, the desperate were forced to search for alternatives.
"With Ymir after them, the Jotnar don't dare use a real hospital." Pihu scanned the crowd, searching for her target.
"My information tells me the Jotnar have used Doctor Xander Ashens' services before—an old friend of their late leader," Dr. Halvorsen said. The other Valkyries were watching other back-alley hospitals.
"A van is approaching. Nondescript," Reine said. "I recognize them from your descriptions, Doctor." The van parked, and a female Jotnar helped a dark-skinned man toward the doctor's office.
"We've found them. What now, Doctor? Should I apprehend them?" Pihu gripped her sword, ready for action.
"In his state, I doubt he could even defeat me," Reine said, amused.
"Negative," Dr. Halvorsen replied. "We need more intel. For now, follow them. Besides, with how volatile Fenrir has become, we can't risk her losing control again. It's doubtful we could defeat her without Project Brokkr." A familiar anger crept into the doctor's voice.
Despite their probing, the doctor had provided few answers to explain why he hated Fenrir but claimed his reasons were justified. This answer frustrated the other Valkyrie. Pihu, however, remained content to wait until the man was ready.
Pihu yawned, getting comfortable. The injured Jotnar required serious medical attention. It'd take hours before the doctor discharged him.
Her condition wasn't much better. An injury she'd received from a Niflhel made moving her left arm difficult. Pihu hoped she wouldn't fall asleep from exhaustion. That would be embarrassing.
"They're coming out," Reine said, rousing Pihu's attention after three hours of waiting.
"He's charging us an arm and a leg, the bastard!" the girl said, wearing a scowl.
"We should make Ymir foot the bill." The other Jotnar wore bandages over his chest and walked with crutches. After his terrible injuries, it amazed Pihu he could even stand.
"Whatever." The girl rolled her eyes and played with her phone. "Perfect. Alex just sent me a packet containing every detail about Mallory's past she could uncover."
"It might help Yareli finally recover her memories." The man brightened, and the two boarded their van, driving away.
"Mallory?! It can't be." Reine sounded stunned, unable to believe her ears.
"Doctor, is that possible?" Pihu asked. It sounded insane, but Fenrir's entire existence was beyond understanding.
"Mallory, huh." Halvorsen's voice turned distant. Had Pihu detected a hint of regret?
"Well, Doctor?" Reine's voice turned hard, unexpected anger creeping in. "Is it possible? What happened during that experiment?" Pihu couldn't blame her outrage. Was Mallory used a guinea pig for some unethical testing of the Valkyrie Project?
"I'll tell you this. Fenrir isn't a person," Dr. Halvorsen's voice went cold. "She's only a construct created by her Uhyre Key. Never forget this. Mallory's death was a terrible accident, and that's the truth."
Fenrir isn't a person? Pihu didn't buy the doctor's argument. Fenrir had reason and a personality, which made her a person in Pihu's view. She also detected that the doctor wasn't telling the whole truth—but that argument was immaterial to their mission. Pihu followed the Jotnar's van from the sky, staying out of view.
They stopped at a local dive bar called the Data Pirate's Den. They didn't stay long, however. A shape lumbered out of the building, a blanket cloaking them from view. Fenrir, no doubt. Much to Pihu's surprise, it wasn't human-shaped. Had Fenrir not returned to normal yet? Another Jotnar joined them, and the van drove away.
After some driving, they parked behind an electronics shop. An elderly man exited the building to greet the newcomers, hurrying them inside.
"Doctor. I think we've discovered the Jotnar's home base."
---
"Come in, come in!" Davidson hurried his young friends inside, wearing a delighted expression. Yareli kept herself under the blanket, cringing as she entered what should be her home. After Alex's frightened reaction, Yareli dreaded showing her new form to anyone—even Davidson. While an irrational fear, she felt it nonetheless.
"When those hooligans started all the hubbub, I feared the worst!" Davidson gave Johan a sympathetic smile when he noticed the young man's injuries.
"It was touch and go, but we survived somehow," Johan replied.
"Yareli, are you okay?" Davidson's brow furrowed when he noticed a blanketed figure entering his shop. "Did your suit get torn?"
"No, but something happened." After a moment's hesitation, Yareli threw aside the blanket, revealing herself.
Davidson gasped in shock, but recovered quickly, giving Yareli a gentle smile. "Oh dear, how did this happen?"
"It's a long story," Johan said, sighing.
Davidson extended a hand, and Yareli flinched from being touched. But she relaxed, allowing him to pet her.
Johan attempted to do the same, but a warning growl caused him to reconsider that plan. "Don't push your luck. I'm nobody's pet."
"Understood." Johan gave a nervous laugh.
Davidson broke into stifled laughter, and Yareli joined him. It released some pent-up tension, and she relaxed, curling into a ball on the floor.
"What happened?" Davidson asked, sitting on his favorite recliner.
Yareli held nothing back—not even the unintended slaughter she'd caused. Davidson listened to everything with a serene expression. While surprised, her admission that she'd attacked the unarmed Niflhel hadn't horrified him.
"Terrible business." Davidson shook his head.
"Yeah." Yareli's voice trailed off, relaxing again as Davidson stroked her head.
"It's eating you up inside, isn't it?" Davidson said. "Have you become afraid of yourself now? Afraid the people you love will fearfully abandon you?"
Yareli's surprised expression caused her old friend to chuckle. "Don't be so shocked. You've always been like a second daughter to me. And parents love their children despite their mistakes."
This left Yareli speechless, causing actual tears to drip from her eye sockets. Thankfully, the Jotnar had vacated the room, allowing the pair to share this tender moment alone.
"There, see? Tears prove you aren't a monster," Davidson said, his voice gentle. "You're strong. You can get through this."
"Thanks. But what now? Am I stuck this way? I've tried picturing my original form, but nothing happens. I don't want to be a wolf forever!" Yareli flicked her skeletal tail in extreme agitation.
Davidson pushed his aged bones from his favorite chair. "I have an idea." Curious, she followed her old friend through his shop until they arrived at Yareli's room.
"What, you want me to paint?" Yareli gestured to her claws. "With these?"
"Does it matter?" Davidson quirked a smile. "You love painting. I doubt that'd stop you. Even if it doesn't restore you to normal, it should provide you some peace."
"Maybe?" Yareli entered her room, grabbing a paintbrush with a shaky paw. While awkward, she got a solid grip on her brush. Her wolf face extended into a grin as she splattered the canvas with random colors. It was sloppy but also magnificent. Davidson closed the door behind him with a smile.
---
Johan gave the door to Yareli's room a nervous glance, worried about his friend.
"She'll be fine." Davidson patted Johan on the shoulder. "Painting has always given Yareli solace during troubling times."
"Really?" Johan supposed everyone had their outlet for their troubles, even living skeletons.
"Leave her alone. She needs her rest." Davidson raised an eyebrow. "You too, I imagine. You've also suffered through some difficult battles."
With sudden, unexpected speed, the older man appeared behind Johan, examining his new sword. "A curious item. It appears to be based on the technology used in Yareli's belt. I wonder where you found it."
Johan winced and started sweating. While recent events had left Yareli too distracted to notice, Davidson hadn't, however. "Funny you should ask that," stuttered Johan, trying to make light of the situation. "I might have given data from the Ragnadriver to a third party to experiment with it—a friend that works in forbidden technology. Don't worry. They won't sell it or anything."
"I'd be careful who you deal with, young man. Offers that seem too good to be true usually are. And I doubt Yareli will appreciate learning you've been fiddling around with her belt behind her back."
Johan's sweating intensified as Davidson's glare deepened. Thankfully, the older man relaxed. "Get some rest."
The old man wasn't wrong. Yareli would be furious once she learned Johan had stolen data from her belt for his own gain. It'd been a problem he'd been anguishing over since he'd first met Simensen. Johan wanted to spill his guts, but something always stopped him. Fear of rejection, maybe?
Johan resolved to explain everything—but later. Yareli had serious enough troubles on her plate already.
From behind her door, Johan heard his friend's frantic painting. Yet it sounded like Yareli was enjoying herself, painting with a childlike glee—or like a happy puppy. After shaking his head and smiling, Johan headed toward the couch to crash.
A groan escaped Johan as he pushed his stiff muscles off the couch. The painkillers had finally worn off, leaving his whole body aching. Johan stumbled toward the bathroom to find some more.
"What's the right dosage again?" Johan shrugged and ignored the label, pouring four pills into his open palm.
"Don't do that! You're meant to take two, and that's it!" Rebecca said, startling Johan. He fumbled with the pills, almost dropping them onto the bathroom floor.
After receiving a scathing glare from his friend, a sheepish Johan complied, taking the recommended dosage as instructed with water. Rebecca gave him a smug, triumphant smile.
"Working late again? Do you never sleep?" Johan noted the bags under his friend's eyes.
The hacker girl only shrugged. "It was worth it, though. Alex and I cracked Ymir's mysterious equation. We figured out its purpose."
"Really?" Johan said, delighted. Rebecca, however, refused to elaborate until everyone had gathered together.
Much to Johan's disappointment, Yareli remained in her wolf form. He'd hoped some relaxation would restore her to normal. Thankfully, she seemed relaxed, indicating the night of painting had helped improve her mood. She waved her bony tail, not unlike a dog. It was kinda cute.
Yareli was scanning the text on Rebecca's laptop. Gramps stood over her shoulder, manipulating the mouse for her.
"What are you reading?" Johan asked.
"It's everything about Mallory's life," Yareli didn't take her eyes from the screen.
"Look at this." Gramps clicked open a picture of a bright young girl hanging with friends at a bar. Her hair was raven black, cut short into a military cut. Mallory's facial features were lovely, almost regal, with prominent dimples, wearing a smile portraying supreme confidence.
Johan noticed Ilma standing in the background, speaking to some random girl. He wondered if Ilma and Mallory were friends once. Did the Valkyrie leader suspect Yareli was her old friend? But then why was she so keen to kill Yareli?
"That's Mallory? You were quite the looker, Yareli," Samuel said half-jokingly.
Johan nodded, quite taken by the picture. Like his friend, Mallory's casual posture hid highly tuned athleticism and martial training.
"Yes, a handsome young woman," Davidson said, nodding.
"Is it bringing anything back?" Johan asked.
Yareli stayed silent for several moments before shrugging. "I might remember this bar? It seems familiar."
"Unfortunately, I couldn't find any other photos." Rebecca shook her head, disappointed. "Someone purged her official files and even her social media accounts. I was lucky to find this one."
Samuel scowled. "More of Ymir's dirty work. You said you've gained an inkling of their plans? Are they building some type of superweapon like the Death Star?"
"You're actually not far off," Rebecca said, nodding. "But it's more of an informational death weapon than a physical one." Her friends only blinked uncomprehendingly.
"Let me explain. The data Surtur was compiling was completely stock-related. We wondered why anyone would require this amount of financial data, but the name Ragnarök proved a hint."
"Ragnarök? Like in Norse mythology? The cataclysm event meant to bring about the death and rebirth of the world?" Davidson asked, not following.
"The name Ragnarök is symbolic of their goals." Rebecca nodded. "I suspect Ymir plans to use this equation to destroy the current world order to establish a new one."
"The name is more metaphorical than literal?" Yareli asked.
"It doesn't make it any less devastating," Rebecca replied. "The equation will cause a cataclysmic crash to the stock market. It has the power to predict the ebbs and flows of the market—not perfectly, but close enough."
"Is that even possible?" Samuel asked, interrupting.
"I'm not sure, but it reminds me of a theory I once heard. It's speculated that with enough data, a computer could predict the future with startling accuracy. This is a smaller-scale version of that theory," Rebecca said.
"Why destabilize the market instead of making an obscene amount of money?" Yareli's tail twitched in agitation.
Johan was just as baffled. With this equation, they could become the wealthiest company in existence!
"Ymir has bigger goals. Remember those stockpiled Angra Armlets? With the world thrown into economic shambles, who could oppose them when they wield weapons as powerful as the Armlets and the Ragnadriver? No country would have the money to fund its military."
"It's all guesswork, but it fits the Ymir emails I've read—and President Wilson's personality," Rebecca said. "He was a hardline activist before becoming Ymir's president. I spoke to an old friend of his who said Wilson became disillusioned in the end, frustrated that he couldn't change anything."
"What is this?" Samuel said, outraged. "I thought Ymir was just making shady weapons for profit. This goes way beyond anything I expected. How can we even fight this?"
"It doesn't matter. I'll fight them regardless." Yareli's tail twitched again.
"It's a solid theory, but we need proof," Davidson said. "If we bring solid evidence to my reporter friend, we have an excellent chance of bringing Ymir down."
"Can't argue with that," Rebecca replied. "Any ideas?"
"I say we charge into that secret lab again and smash Surtur," Samuel offered. "Easiest way to solve the problem."
"No equation, no Ragnarök," Yareli agreed with a nod.
"One problem—Ymir's not that stupid," Rebecca said. "They moved the system to their main headquarters. They're not taking any risks. It's heavily protected, deep within the building."
A bell chimed at the store's entrance, signaling a customer. Davidson bowed his head. "Excuse me. I have a customer."
Johan racked his brain for a plan but came up blank. Ymir wouldn't just leave a memo confessing their misdeeds lying around. He voiced his frustrations.
"Of course! It's so easy!" Rebecca slapped her forehead. "Why didn't I think of it sooner?"
"What?" Johan asked.
"Ymir's already in hot water with practically everyone. I read an article about the governor launching an investigation into them after the Bifrost Police Department Massacre." Her eyes sparkled. "If he finds out they've been illegally stockpiling and producing weapons, it'd be disastrous for them."
"Remember that factory we found?" Yareli said. "They're probably producing more elsewhere."
"I'll scan Ymir's recent dealings for suspicious activity and acquisitions!" Rebecca jumped up, her eyes aflame with eagerness. "We'll break in, take some pictures, and hand them over to Davidson's reporter friend!"
While the others discussed plans, Johan wandered off to get some water. As he hobbled toward the tiny kitchen, he froze at the sound of a familiar voice in the distance.
Oh, crap.
Johan turned toward the voice, praying he was wrong.
"It's caught your eye, hasn't it?" Davidson gave a good-natured laugh. "It leaves an impression on every customer who comes here."
Through a side door, Johan confirmed his worst fear: Halvorsen. The scientist stood before Davidson's counter, gazing at one of Yareli's paintings with a wistful expression. To Johan's surprise, he was alone—no Valkyries in sight.
"It's terrible. There's no rhyme or reason. It doesn't seem to be about anything in particular. The painter just threw random colors and lines onto a canvas," Halvorsen said.
"Does it matter?" Davidson replied gently. "Art is more than just painting fruit."
"I suppose not." Halvorsen's eyes returned to the painting. "And yet, it's obvious the painter poured their heart and soul into it." He turned away, expression unreadable.
"I must be going. Thank you for the talk." Halvorsen headed for the door. Johan's heart stopped when the scientist looked right at him—and smiled.
"Any time. Your computer should be fixed by Monday," Davidson called after him with a wave.
"Who was that?" Rebecca asked. "You were talking for a while."
"An old electronics enthusiast like myself," Davidson replied, gesturing to a box on the counter. "He brought in an old Micron laptop from the 1990s. Quite a beauty."
"This thing is huge." Rebecca hefted the device, testing its weight. "People really lugged this monstrous thing around?"
"Guys! That was Halvorsen!" Johan blurted out.
"What?" Rebecca jerked in surprise, nearly dropping the laptop. Davidson raised a questioning eyebrow.
"And he saw me!" Johan continued. "He knows we're here!"
"Wait—then why didn't he attack us?" Rebecca froze as her leg bumped into something. A piece of paper had fallen from the laptop. She picked it up and scanned its contents. "Look at this!"
It read:
"Fenrir, meet me at this address at 17:00 tonight. We need to talk."