"How did it go? Were you successful?" Gramps asked as she entered the back door. As usual, his lab was a mess—mechanical parts scattered everywhere in an organized chaos only their owner understood. While Yareli couldn't throw stones in this department, she wished he'd allow more room to walk around.
"Better than expected!" Yareli didn't hide her excitement, causing her friend to raise an eyebrow.
"What's that strapped across your waist?" Gramps hobbled over to examine the strange device.
Paul Davidson, or Gramps for short, was a wiry old geezer well into his seventies. Despite his advanced years, his mind hadn't dulled. His skill with machinery remained second to none. In Bifrost, he provided repair work for various automatic systems, making him quite prosperous. The older man adjusted his thick spectacles as he studied her Rangadriver.
Yareli extracted the USB stick from her suit pocket. "Here's everything. You wouldn't believe what Ymir has been planning!"
"Please, hold nothing back." Gramps gestured to a nearby couch. "From your excitement, you've obviously had quite an adventure."
A shaky, weathered hand stroked a thin beard after she finished her story. "Quite a story. It confirms Ymir developed your pendant. Who would have ever guessed it contained such power? A Kamen Rider? I like it. Quite a striking name."
"They're a tech company for the public sector. Why the secret weapon project? I didn't get the impression this was for any military purpose. They killed to keep their secrets. I doubt it's legal."
"I've heard rumors about their president's ambition." Gramps nodded, his face concerned. "But it's certainly a mystery why he'd go this far."
"It can't be for money. Otherwise, they'd be working with the military." Bifrost City was a joint effort by several European countries and powerful corporations. Officially, it belonged to Norway. If Ymir desired money, wouldn't they just make some lucrative contracts with the EU? Selling the technology to the highest bidder in seedy black markets to unscrupulous groups or countries couldn't even be a third as profitable.
"Let's find out." Gramps inserted the USB stick into his personal computer. While the machine appeared ancient, it housed an impressively powerful CPU. Gramps had a strong nostalgia for older computer designs.
Despite his age, his fingers blurred as he typed. He whistled as he studied the specs on the Rangadriver. "I've never seen an alloy like this before. Mythril? Cute. The nanomachines it creates spread across the body, creating the wolf-like armor you used."
"Nothing about me." Yareli fought to keep the bitterness out of her voice. While they'd stolen some valuable data about the Rangadriver, it contained nothing else.
"We'll solve this, Yareli. Just be patient. We're one step closer to the truth."
"One step forward." She'd hoped learning about her pendant would at least provide some clues. "I'll leave you to it. If you need me, I'll be in my studio."
Before she left, Gramps smiled and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, for saving those young men, Yareli. It was courageous of you."
If Yareli still had blood, it'd be rushing to her cheeks. "It's what anyone would do. Just keep an eye out. They might track us back here." While they were criminals, abandoning them to Ymir was unacceptable. After Gramps gave her another smile, she left his work area.
Yareli removed her helmet and placed it on a nearby chair. She hated getting her prized helmet dirty and strapped an apron over her biker suit. Despite being alone, Yareli felt self-conscious walking around as only a bare skeleton. It seemed obscene somehow.
Canvases sat everywhere in her studio. Most were half-finished due to her odd moods. It was like the tide, washing in new ideas and sweeping out the old. None of them were of anything particular. Instead, Yareli had painted whatever came to mind. In her view, art had no real form beyond a person's imagination. When she wasn't helping Gramps with work orders, she painted her heart away.
A giggle escaped her as she plucked up her palette and selected a random green color. Spirals popped into her mind, and she painted away, not caring whether it made sense. Expression was the only thing that gave her dreary life meaning.
---
"Well?" Johan asked, peering over Rebecca's shoulder. The hacker girl tapped on her keyboard for several moments before turning her attention toward him.
"Easier than I expected, actually." Rebecca moved her mouse around the screen. "I assumed one random biker girl among millions would be impossible to find, but our superhero friend is a celebrity of sorts."
"Really?" Samuel asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rebecca pulled up an image on her computer, and Johan's breath caught. It was Yareli speeding down Fifth Avenue on her bike. The brightly colored wolf painted on her helmet stood out among the blurry, speeding cars.
"Someone on Bifrost's message board took this picture for his photography class and posted it online. She makes quite a striking image, and it's earned her a few fans." Rebecca clicked another file, and another image of Yareli relaxing on her bike appeared. "They call her the Racer Wolf."
"She isn't very good at hiding herself," Samuel snorted.
Johan agreed. Why the wolf on her helmet? Was she trying to draw attention to herself? He studied the photo more closely and realized what had struck him as odd. While a close approximation of a woman's figure, her body's proportions weren't quite square. He guessed Yareli padded her suit to make herself appear more human.
"What are you, Yareli?" Johan thought. Aloud, he said. "Fantastic news. Where can we find her?"
"She's usually found in eastern downtown." Rebecca opened a map of Bifrost and indicated the spot with a finger, and Johan tensed.
"Isn't that Niflhel territory?" They were a bloodthirsty group who'd grown in prominence over the last few years. Their leader was a sadistic psychopath. After tangling with the gang on several occasions, the Boss had concluded it'd be wiser to keep their distance.
"If only the Boss hadn't…" Samuel cursed, spitting into a trash can. "We don't have a choice."
Until then, Johan hadn't realized how much their imposing leader had protected them. Without him, they were easy prey for other gangs. The Niflhel would show them no mercy.
"They won't appreciate us going around asking questions, but spotting Yareli shouldn't be difficult," Johan said. How many living skeletons were walking around the city?
"Let's see them try." Samuel nodded, holstering a handgun. "Even without the Boss, we're a force to be reckoned with!" Johan reluctantly pocketed his own weapon.
Rebecca flinched. "Please don't shoot on sight."
"You wound me, Becca." Samuel snorted in amusement. "Don't worry. We won't do anything if they leave us alone."
Still not happy, Rebecca nodded. They loaded into the van. She drove while the other Jotnar members hid in the back. Despite most cars having a self-driving feature, Rebecca loved taking manual control. They were counting on the Niflhel not recognizing her, since she rarely left their base.
Eastern downtown wasn't as rundown as most of downtown Bifrost—not surprising, considering how many small businesses and workshops operated here. Not that it was much safer. Johan spotted a graffitied building with windows shattered by bullet holes. The Niflhel were very protective of their territory.
Thanks to the hefty advance payment from Simensen, they had plenty of cash for gas to cruise around the streets. Rebecca made occasional stops at random convenience stores or shops to obscure her intentions. Much to their disappointment, they didn't catch any sign of Yareli. Johan supposed the girl was keeping low to avoid Ymir's attention. That didn't hinder Rebecca's inquiries about Racer Wolf, and she was getting some solid leads.
"Racer Wolf?" the man said, laughing. They sat in a random diner, the man's leather outfit marking him as a biker. "'Course I've seen her around. How could anyone not notice her skill with that bike? Artistry, I tell you. I've asked her to race more than once, but she always rides off."
"If she doesn't race, why is she called Racer Wolf?" Johan asked.
"Because her machine is quick—uncatchable." The man replied with a whistle. "Believe me, I've tried. And she's a lone wolf, always keeping to herself. Never heard her utter a word."
"No one knows what her deal is?" Samuel asked, sipping his drink.
The man shrugged. "Not unusual. Bifrost attracts all sorts." Unfortunately, he couldn't provide them with anything more helpful, but he did indicate a street Racer Wolf visited sometimes. Johan froze, ducking Samuel's head behind their booth.
"What is it?" Samuel grunted in pain and annoyance.
"Look!"
Samuel peeked his head over, paling upon recognizing the man entering the diner. It was the funny-accented man who'd transformed into the bear monster and killed two of their friends. Samuel's expression turned ugly, reaching for his weapon.
"Don't," Rebecca whispered, reaching out a hand to stop him. Thankfully, the thug passed without even glancing at them, scooting into a nearby booth with his pal.
"I'm not stupid," Samuel replied, blushing a little. "You think I want to get arrested?"
"It seems he survived the fight, at least," Johan noted the man's injuries and the bandages over one eye. Seemed Fenrir had done a number on him. What kind of power did her suit have to defeat a monster like that bear creature?
"They're searching for Yareli too," Samuel scowled.
"Perfect. This complicates things." Still, they stayed put, trying to overhear the Ymir goons' conversation.
"Dino, why here?" The other man's face spoke of someone who welcomed fights—and usually won them. While he kept his head shaved, he wore a handlebar mustache.
"Because, Eirik, the fries here are excellent. Besides, after the yelling the president gave me, I deserve a treat."
Eirik snorted in amusement. "You're such a hedonist. Can't take the slightest pain without rushing to comfort foods."
"Guilty as charged," Dino replied, without shame. "Besides, I need the energy. We're no closer to finding her."
"We'll get her. She can't hide forever. We've at least learned the target lives around here."
"Dammit, Yareli. Why'd you make such a spectacle of yourself?" Johan thought. A chill ran down his spine when something cold pressed against his throat. It was a knife.
"Looks like someone's wandered into the wrong neighborhood." Terror crept into Johan's heart as he recognized that cold, pitiless voice. "No Boss to protect you, either."
The man's gaunt features were pale and thin, almost deathlike. His eyes, however, froze the bones. They had a manic gleam to them, craving violence and pain. This was someone who enjoyed hurting people.
"You can't! We're in a public place!" Rebecca said, her eyes wide and frightened.
Selim Jones, the leader of the Niflhel, shrugged. "When you're stuck in my web? Why should I release you?" Johan's heart raced as blood trickled down his neck.
"Good one, boss!" a Niflhel lackey said—more muscle than brains.
"We don't want any trouble," Johan replied, calmer than he'd expected. He yelped in pain when Selim tossed him onto the diner's hard, tiled floor.
"Then scram. Don't come around here again," Selim said. "You're lucky we're in a public place."
Johan couldn't find his voice but nodded, grateful he'd only received a minor cut.
"You!"
Johan turned and found the two Ymir thugs staring at him. They stood to attention, reaching into their pockets.
"Run!" Johan dashed toward the door, his friends following him to safety.
"Huh?" Selim blinked, watching as the two Ymir thugs chased after the fleeing Jotnars.
Johan cursed as a suited man blocked the diner's front entrance. "How about you come with us? Don't cause a scene."
"This way!" Rebecca pointed toward the swinging door leading into the kitchen.
The Jotnar rushed toward the back room. Cooks yelled in consternation as three young people ran into their workplace, then confusion and fear when jackbooted thugs followed behind. While cramped, the kitchen provided just enough room to reach the back door. Johan kicked it open, revealing a back alley. Besides an overfilled dumpster and a homeless man, it was empty.
He scanned around, searching for the best route to safety. With so many Ymir thugs running about, he doubted they could retreat to their vehicle. Unfortunately, this wasn't their turf, and they knew little about these backstreets. How would they return home from here? What if they ran into more Niflhel?
"Our best option is to run around, lose them, then double back toward our van," Johan thought.
He pointed toward a backstreet, indicating they should flee that way. His friends nodded, taking the short staircase leading out of the diner. The homeless man opened his mouth to ask something, but they ignored him. They fled into a right alley, hoping to lose their pursuers.
---
"What the heck was that?" a bewildered Kevin asked, as the Jotnar fled from several suited men.
"Beats me." Selim considered the strange episode. Those men had been professional types, not gang members. What kind of trouble had the Boss's people gotten themselves into? From the amusing burst of fear on Johan's face, it couldn't be pleasant. "But I intend to find out."
Curiosity stirred within him. Selim had heard rumors about certain under-the-table jobs the Boss performed. He considered them foolish. He prized his independence—living however he wished. Contracts and deals would only tie him down. It amused Selim how badly the Boss had screwed up. Had they ticked off a major corporation like Ymir? He'd enjoy watching the Jotnar squirm as the noose tightened around their necks.
They followed into the kitchen, an angry glare silencing the protests from the balding middle-aged manager.
"You. Where did they go?" Selim asked the homeless man, who desperately wished he'd been elsewhere. No doubt the Niflhel's reputation preceded them.
The old geezer pointed a shaky hand toward a far alley, and they followed his directions. As they got closer, it wasn't difficult to notice the commotion his prey was causing. They increased their pace, took another turn, and entered an old, abandoned basketball court. The Jotnar were cornered by a wire fence, the two suits moving to block any escape.
"Finally." One of the suited men smirked. He pulled something from his pocket, attaching a strange armband to his arm.
"Terrorize."
Selim stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed with horror, as the man transformed—becoming something monstrous. The man roared as his body contorted. His skin hardened, transforming into an almost translucent brown exoskeleton. His face grew hideous mandibles with enormous buggy eyes. Four extra spider-leg-like appendages sprouted from his body, reducing his nice suit to tatters.
"Monster!" Kevin staggered backward, unable to believe his eyes. Selim found himself rooted to the spot, frozen in terror.
With an impossible bound of its spindly legs, the spider monster blocked the Jotnar's desperate escape attempt into another alley. Dear God! That jump must have been at least six meters!
"You aren't going anywhere." The spider monster pointed each of his razor-sharp claws toward the Jotnar. His voice boomed in the silent park. Much to Selim's astonishment, the Jotnar seemed unimpressed that the man had just transformed into a freaking monster.
Johan eyed the street the spider monster's massive frame blocked, wondering if he should risk it. The creature used his multiple limbs to cover every escape route. Samuel only shook his head in frustration. The girl Johan didn't know stared at the creature with equal parts terror and fascination. The one-eyed man reached the Jotnar and pulled out a pistol. He gave the spider monster a nod, and the creature relaxed. His body contorted again and returned to human form.
Suited men charged into the courtyard, Selim pushing Kevin behind a nearby bin. The suited men moved to surround the Jotnar, offering no opportunity to escape.
"We don't want any trouble." The one-eyed man gestured with his weapon, making the consequences of resistance clear.
Grim-faced, the Jotnar allowed the suited men to throw their arms behind their backs. Some instinct told Selim to follow. He kept low, watching with keen interest.
"That was reckless, Eirik," the one-eyed man said, chastising his fellow, but then smiled. "But effective. Saved us a lot of running around."
"Couldn't let these rats scurry away." Eirik scanned his surroundings, still alert for trouble. "They look like gang members to me. Who are they?"
"Something I intend to find out," another voice said. Eirik stiffened, recognizing it. Arend Visscher, a bigwig of Ymir, exited the unmarked van wearing an angry scowl. "Get in. We're going to have a long, pleasant chat." His voice dripped with menace, mouth twisting into a cruel smile. Selim didn't envy the Jotnar.
After pushing Johan and his friends into the van, they drove away to whatever horrible fate awaited them.
"That was crazy!" Kevin spluttered. "What's going on? That was a real monster, boss!"
"Beats me." While Selim shed few tears for the Jotnar's fate, the episode piqued his interest. He took a picture of the unmarked van with his phone. It would make tracking down the vehicle much simpler. Somehow, that armband had granted this Eirik person power. Selim's eyes shone with predatory hunger. "But I intend to find out."