"Hmm," Johan watched the sun set on Bifrost. Despite its griminess and superficiality, the way the red light glinted off the city's glassed skyscrapers was dazzling. He recalled how Randel loved to sneak out on the duller days to the beach, just so they could watch the sunset along the crashing ocean.
He wondered if his zombified friend was also gazing at the sunset on the beach. Did he even have that humanity left within him?
Johan slammed a fist into a nearby wall, ignoring the pain throbbing through his hand. He wanted to howl to the winds until his lungs went raw—something to help him vent the turbulent emotions tearing him apart from within. He refused to cry. Real men never cried.
Footfalls on the sand announced Yareli's approach. "Oh, there you are. How are you holding up?"
"Fine."
"I see." Yareli's body language made it clear how little she believed that statement. It was always remarkable how much his friend expressed despite not having a face. Her black-eyed helmet stared into him, seeing more than Johan found comfortable.
"I thought you might need a friend, regardless."
"I don't mind," Johan said, done sulking by himself. They watched the last remnants of the sunlight in companionable silence.
A jingle interrupted the moment, Johan cringing when a familiar song played. Reine's voice resonated across the empty beach, her melodious tone no longer bringing him the joy it once had. Unable to help himself, Johan flung his phone against the sidewalk. It gave a satisfying crack, almost snapping in two.
"That's one way to get rid of an annoying ringtone," Yareli said, deadpan.
"I was due for an upgrade anyway," Johan replied, flushing at his sudden outburst.
Just thinking about that girl made his blood boil. She'd seemed so perfect, so beautiful. Her voice sang to his soul, offering a smile that promised he mattered. It hid the demon beneath—uncaring about anyone else. It still shocked him how callously Reine ignored the people getting trampled to death by her monsters. The official death count was fifteen people and twelve injured—not counting the zombies.
"There's a coffee shop nearby. Want to go? My treat."
"Nah." Besides, eating alone with someone unable to eat was super awkward. "Not in the mood."
"Should I leave you alone? If you want space, that's fine."
"No, stay, Ilma. I enjoy having you around." Why did he say that? She might take it the wrong way! Johan cursed his friend for having no face to study. Was she blushing?
"Glad to hear it. I'd rather be here than at the meeting, anyway."
"Meeting?" Johan uttered a stifled curse. In his moping, Simensen's strategy meeting had completely slipped his mind.
"Samuel wasn't kidding about you being unreliable sometimes," Yareli said, amused.
"Thanks." Johan turned away to hide his blush. He felt like such an idiot. "Let's hurry before Rebecca gives us grief."
"I'd rather ditch it. My presence is unnecessary anyway."
"What? You're the strongest fighter in the world!"
"My previous fights tell a different story. Since Dino, I've been on a terrible losing streak."
Johan realized how glum his friend was, her posture not holding the confidence it once possessed. "Everyone else is outpacing me at an incredible speed. Heck, you might be stronger than me now."
"That's not true. You're just having difficulty because you've lost your weapon! When Gramps completes your new one, you'll stomp Surtur into the ground!"
Yareli gave a grunt, neither confirming nor denying the statement. Johan faltered, unsure how to cheer his friend up.
What a sad pair they were. "We should go somewhere. The distraction might do us some good."
"I like that idea." Yareli's body language brightened.
"Painting?" Johan suggested, knowing that helped soothe his friend.
"Nah. I refuse to paint while you sit around doing nothing."
"I don't mind." Despite the incomprehensible nature of her paintings, Johan found watching his friend's work fascinating. He enjoyed the passion she put into her brush.
"How about a ride? It's a beautiful night."
"In this cold?" Winter would be arriving soon. The night air was already getting brisk.
"I find the cold refreshing. How about it?"
Except you can't feel the cold, Ilma, Johan thought, tightening his jacket around him. Out loud, he said, "I'd like that."
"Here." Yareli thrust a helmet into Johan's hand when they reached her bike. "Strap on and hold tight. I like riding fast."
"Bring it." Johan clasped onto Yareli after she mounted. It was an odd sensation, grabbing around someone without body heat. Yet, why was he feeling warm suddenly?
Without warning, Yareli drove forward and sped down the street. Cars zipped past, her driving just skirting the speed limit. While slightly terrifying, it exhilarated him. He could understand why his friend loved riding. She was an excellent driver, navigating the traffic with expert finesse.
As they approached the main district of Bifrost, Johan marveled at the lights and bustle as they passed the busy buildings and shops. Signs advertising various products demanded their attention, colors blurring as they zipped by. Bifrost was gorgeous at night. Johan just held his friend tight, enjoying the addictive thrill of speed.
"I should buy my own bike, then we could ride together", Johan thought, having the time of his life. For a spoiled princess, Yareli had exceptional taste in thrills.
///
"Where the hell is he?" Rebecca glared at her phone, her eyes demanding that Johan answer in the next few seconds or else.
"It's fine. We'll give him the cliff notes version later. Besides, Ilma's probably with him. Let them spend some time alone together." Samuel waggled his eyebrows, bringing a smile to Rebecca's lips. With Yareli being a literal skeleton, it was an interesting dating arrangement.
"You're right. They've both suffered through a lot," Rebecca said, wishing her friends the best. She wasn't holding together much better, either. This adventure wasn't as fun as she'd first imagined.
"She's not here yet?" Pihu said, annoyed, entering the finely appointed sitting room. For a slimeball, Rebecca had to admit Simensen had excellent taste.
"She had other matters to attend to," Rebecca said, half lying. Let her interpret that statement as she would.
The Valkyrie frowned but nodded. She sat on an armchair, impatiently waiting for the others to appear.
"It's unfortunate," Simensen said, legs crossed. He extended a glass, and a servant poured him a drink from a decanter of whiskey. It looked more expensive than a brand-new Ymir sports car. "We can manage without Fenrir. Besides, best have her patrolling the city to address any sudden problems."
"That makes sense," Abbey said, drinking water from the finest glassware Rebecca had ever seen.
"Except for Ilma and Johan. Everyone else is here? Good," Anderson said as he entered. Instead of enjoying the room's many luxuries, the cop watched the scene from a corner with keen interest.
"You're mistaken. This meeting has two more guests," someone said, and Rebecca bolted from her chair. Yareli's father entered with his robot daughter in tow.
"Pleased to have you," Simensen said, smooth as ever. "Come and sit. Enjoy a refreshment if you like."
"Brandy," Halvorsen said, sitting down. A servant took his order and sped away. ID-01 stood obediently near him, arms folded behind her.
"You," Rebecca said, narrowing her eyes as her face turned sour. While she'd seen his picture before, Ilma's father was imposing in person. He was a brick of a man, his loose coat not hiding the finely tuned muscle beneath, despite his advanced age. Despite having a bodybuilder's frame, intense intelligence shone in his eyes.
"Surtur is my responsibility. While I wasn't involved in his creation personally, ID-00 is my work. I can't allow its misuse to stand," Halvorsen replied.
"Like you can't allow Ilma's existence to stand?" Rebecca said, her tone flint. "Even though she's the daughter you thought dead?"
Halvorsen bristled but remained silent. Clearly, his daughter wasn't a subject he wished to discuss.
"And I see he brought his fake daughter along with him," Samuel said, not hiding his contempt.
"Surtur is a threat to us all," ID-01 said, showing no emotion as usual. "It is beneficial that we work together despite our previous conflicts."
"Sure, ignore the times you tried to kill us," Rebecca thought, but privately admitted she had a point.
If Halvorsen noticed Yareli's absence, his expression remained stoic. But Rebecca heard him sigh, muttering about his daughter's sporadic behavior. No doubt the man was used to Yareli's free-spirited, unpredictable nature.
"And one more besides," a man said, swaggering into the room. "Forgive me, but I invited myself in. A whiskey for me—strong as possible."
Samuel growled with primal hatred as the last of their group entered the room. Dino picked a random seat, his boots slamming onto a nearby coffee table and leaving mud on the tabletop. The Ymir goon looked terrible, unhealed burn wounds scarring his face. From his previous injuries, it was a miracle he still stood.
"You bastard!" Samuel reached into his pocket for his hidden revolver. He hadn't forgotten how the Ymir thug had killed the Boss and Randel in cold blood. Worse, Dino's bored expression only egged Samuel on. Despite his nonplussed face, the Ymir goon's hand reached for his Angra Armlet beneath his jacket.
"Enough," Simensen said, his voice demanding obedience. "I didn't invite you into my home for you to squabble like children. The world hangs in the balance, remember?" He gave each of his guests a penetrating glare. After some bristling, they relented.
"This isn't over," Samuel whispered to Dino, but he'd comply for now. Rebecca sighed, knowing this mess would likely resurface at the worst opportunity.
"Excellent. Now that everyone has settled, we can begin." Simensen's bodyguard clicked on a TV screen. A slide filled with data appeared, perking Rebecca's immediate interest. It looked like a blueprint for a computer system.
"This is Project Surtur." Simensen switched slides, indicating a grab bag of technical data that showed the system's specifications.
"While I'm sure most of you are aware, I think the point is worth repeating," Simensen said. "Ymir designed Surtur with the most advanced prediction algorithms known to date. Ymir hoped that, with enough data, Surtur could predict future events to their benefit—not just the stock market, but possibly even future catastrophes."
Simensen's information-gathering skills were more formidable than Rebecca had expected. His mole must be well-placed.
"One point. Is it actually possible to predict the stock market?" Samuel asked. "It still sounds too crazy to believe."
"That, I can't confirm. Wilson seemed to believe so, but that point remains moot," Simensen replied. "What concerns me more is Surtur's ability to reprogram his own code."
"Reprogram his own code?"
Sci-fi stories of AI going rogue played through her head. This meant Surtur could fix issues with his code and develop new abilities. It'd be a fascinating study—if Surtur wasn't trying to kill them all.
"This will cause some problems," Simensen said, understating their circumstances. "No plan or stratagem will work twice against it. It will learn our moves better than we know them ourselves after only a few exchanges. That's not even getting into his Ragnadriver's monstrous strength."
"What then?" Abbey asked, annoyed. "He's unbeatable?"
"His code has probably already changed to something unrecognizable from his original design. But he might have other weaknesses we can exploit. Halvorsen, Surtur's body is the prototype of the young lady over there, correct? There must be reasons it remained unused."
"Several," Halvorsen replied, taking the cue to begin his part. "Its energy efficiency was poor. The nanomachines weren't self-sufficient enough to my satisfaction, requiring a constant resupply of energy to operate. Hell, the mechanical body itself was a wasteful energy drainer."
"So he needs a lot of power to keep running?" Samuel asked, summarizing the point. "Like a phone with a bad battery."
"Powerful as he is, he can't extend too much effort without draining himself to dangerous levels," Halvorsen said, nodding.
"How long are we talking about here?" Simensen asked, hope creeping into his voice.
"Around an hour," Halvorsen said.
Rebecca's eyes widened in amazement. That was a more significant weakness than she'd expected. A thought punctured her enthusiasm.
"Does Surtur realize this? What if he redesigned his nanomachines to be more efficient?"
"Unlikely," Halvorsen said. "Despite his advanced AI, Surtur is still a machine. He doesn't have human creativity. He probably doesn't realize it's a major weakness. Besides, redesigning them would take considerable effort."
Human creativity. Rebecca hadn't considered that point before, but he was correct. Being a machine, Surtur always acted in the most literal sense possible. It's what made computers so aggravating—they did exactly what you instructed them to do.
But what about Yareli, though? A computer dictated her personality, yet she bristled with unbridled creativity. Didn't that make her human? She eyed Halvorsen, wondering if similar thoughts were passing through his head.
"Okay, we keep him busy until he runs out of energy," Dino said. "The problem is surviving that long. I've crossed swords with that creature. What's stopping him from pounding us into the ground before that happens?"
"We won't go in blindly," Halvorsen said. "And I still have a few tricks. The Valkyrie Mk. 2 isn't the only new weapon at our disposal."
"Ah, Project Brokkr. "Rebecca had almost forgotten about it after she'd stolen his files. "Is it nearly completed?" Were they about to have another new Kamen Rider? Kamen Rider Pihu, maybe? Or Kamen Rider Johan? That'd be pretty cool.
"The Valkyrie Mk. 2 was its prototype, used to enhance the original Valkyrie System. Thanks to Pihu's brilliance, we got it up and running quickly." Halvorsen's comment earned a blush from the Indian girl.
Incredible. That was only the prototype? Rebecca thought, recalling how it had sent Hel and her forces scattering.
"But the material components aren't cheap or easy to obtain," Halvorsen continued. "With Ymir's assets frozen, it will take time to procure them. Time I doubt we have."
"Money is no obstacle to me," Simensen said smoothly. "My resources are at your disposal."
But the scientist seemed less than enthused by this prospect, knowing this potential benefactor had ulterior motives. This disaster started because Simensen wanted the Jotnar to engage in corporate espionage.
"That shouldn't be necessary," Halvorsen said, not bothering to mask his distrust. "I should have Brokkr finished by the end of the week."
Worry twisted Rebecca's stomach into knots. Four days—if they lasted that long. And who knows when that nutcase Reine might attack again?
"In the meantime, we'll keep an eye out," Pihu said. "If Surtur is planning something, we'll figure it out."
"Is Surtur building some superweapon?" Samuel asked. "There must be some reason he's being so quiet."
"Good point," Rebecca said, ideas piecing together. "We should search for any odd energy drains. If he isn't building something, we can at least catch him powering himself."
"I'll pass that little tip along," Anderson said, giving a grateful nod.
They broke into a scattered conversation about possible battle plans they might throw against Surtur. The adaptive and ever-growing AI would prove a difficult challenge—but hopefully not unbeatable. Rebecca figured an ambush before Surtur was ready was their best chance.
They'd agreed to hash out a more complete battle strategy later. Rebecca prayed the police would find Surtur's hideout in time. Still, the meeting had left her marginally hopeful as they departed for their various tasks.
"Excuse me, young lady." A voice called behind her, stopping Rebecca before she slipped into her van.
"What do you want?" Rebecca asked, her tone frosty.
"There's a matter I wish to discuss with you," Halvorsen said. Much to Rebecca's relief, his fake daughter was elsewhere.
"We're busy," Samuel said, tapping his watch.
Despite knowing his presence wasn't welcome, Halvorsen kept his tone civil. "This shall only take a moment. In two days, I want to arrange a meeting with Fenrir. There's a matter I wish to discuss with her."
"Really?" Rebecca said, unable to keep the heat from her voice. "For another ambush, like last time?"
"I mean it. I wish to give her something. This meeting was long in coming."
"What a load of crap." Halvorsen flinched as Rebecca slammed the door in his face. "Good day."
Without another word, Rebecca drove away—leaving Yareli's father coughing on the exhaust.
"Nice," Samuel said, amused by her response. "Though he might have been sincere."
"Maybe." Something about Halvorsen's presence had incensed her beyond reason. Rebecca sighed, shamefaced for acting so petulantly.
What if he had been sincere? With disaster looming, Yareli might not get another chance to have a genuine conversation with her father. While Halvorsen's face was impassive as ever, she'd detected genuine emotion in his voice.
"Okay, we'll tell her." Besides, Yareli was a big girl, capable of making her own decisions. If it was a trap, Rebecca would be her getaway driver.
She supposed that if she could patch things with her mother, so could Yareli.