"Why here? It hardly suits a man of your tastes," Dino asked, entering the lab. Unlike Ymir's usual high-tech fare, the planet's smartest scientist had holed himself up in a dingy basement of an old townhouse. Dino edged around tables crowded with equipment of indeterminate use.
"I can't risk Surtur disrupting my work." The smell of burnt circuits filled Dino's nostrils. As Halvorsen welded some circuitry to a piece of metal. Odds and ends crowded the worktable, including a half-disassembled Ragnadriver. "Besides, I already have everything I need here."
Dino couldn't fault the scientist's paranoia. Much rode on Project Brokkr's completion. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes." Halvorsen pulled up his protective goggles, turning to address his guest. "I need a favor. I need a test subject for Project Brokkr."
Somehow, this request didn't surprise him. "Ah, I suppose I'm the expendable guinea pig for your little experiment. Can't risk one of your precious Valkyries, after all."
Dino didn't begrudge the scientist for this. Someone needed to risk their life to test this new system. It might as well be him. There wasn't time for extensive tests with plenty of safety precautions.
"No, I chose you because you have the best chance of survival. You're a survivor, Dino Rizzo. And you defeated Fenrir. That makes you an exceptional individual."
A sudden thought occurred to Dino. "When Ilma still had skin, was she defeated often?"
The scientist remained silent for several moments before a smile crept onto his usually stoic face. "Not often. Though she always loathed martial training, she had an exceptional talent for it. When she was a teenager, she defeated college-aged boys."
Any happiness vanished as Halvorsen returned to the grim matter at hand. "This experiment entails a considerable amount of risk. I used ID-01 for the prototype because her mechanical body could withstand the strain better than a human."
"You still haven't worked out the Ragnadriver's dangerous kinks?"
"I won't lie. There's a chance that even activating it will kill you. I won't begrudge you for refusing."
Someone needed to stop Surtur. So why not Bifrost's resident superhero, Dino Rizzo? "I'll do it."
"You make our late president proud," Halvorsen said, placing a meaty hand on Dino's shoulder. "I promise to do everything possible to avoid unnecessary risks."
Dino nodded, knowing the scientist meant every word. Halvorsen was the most honorable man he'd ever met.
The scientist returned to his seat and assembled the newly welded piece into a slot in a metal container. "If you would excuse me, I need to return to work. Return here at 18:00 tonight. We'll begin the first test run."
Dino waved his goodbye and allowed the scientist to finish his work. While scooting around a computer desk, he noticed a blue shape sitting against a wall. On closer inspection, he found a sword wrapped in cloth that obscured its details. The blade extended longer than Dino had expected, almost taller than a man. Despite its monstrous height, its grip only allowed single-handed use. You'd need to be mighty strong to wield this weapon.
Dino smiled to himself when he noticed the wolf-shaped pommel. While they were intense, deep-rooted rivals, Fenrir deserved some happiness. Maybe she'd finally patch things with her old man. He whistled as he left, though he was careful to remain unseen. It'd be dumb to blow Halvorsen's carefully made cover.
"A nap sounds nice," Dino thought as he returned to his car. He winced as a strong wind whipped against him, agitating the burn wound on his face. Some sleep would help aid his recovery. If death likely awaited him in a terrible lab accident, he might as well enjoy some naps before it happened.
///
"What a piece of junk," Samuel said. "How much did this cost?"
"Enough," Johan said defensively.
"Does it even run?" Rebecca asked.
Samuel snorted. "It'd be a wonder if he can roll it across the street. They ripped you off."
The motorcycle the Jotnar huddled over appeared at least twenty years old. It looked like someone had stripped it for parts, scrapped it, then had a blind person reassemble it. While she agreed with Samuel's harsh but accurate assessment, Yareli kept her opinion to herself. It'd be like kicking a downed puppy.
"Maybe I should give him my old bike. Gramps has it in storage somewhere," Yareli thought.
While she'd purchased it used, it'd been after extensive research to get the best possible bargain. It had been her faithful companion for about a year before a new model caught her eye. She'd spotted it in a magazine for cycle enthusiasts. While an indulgence, she couldn't help herself. Designed for professional racers, riding it was like floating in a dream—fast as lightning while agile like a cat. It had taken her months to save up to purchase it, but saving money was easy when you don't eat. But Johan's pride wouldn't allow such charity.
"It'll take some work, but I'm confident we can soup it up." She considered borrowing parts from her old bike but decided against it. She didn't have the heart for it. "I know this junkyard that sells decent parts."
"There's nothing wrong with it." Johan raised his head in defiance. "Its price was reasonable."
"Okay." Arguing wouldn't solve anything. Besides, Yareli figured the figurative tricycle would work wonders for a beginner. Its speed would be manageable for his level. It'd teach him valuable maintenance skills when it broke down. While it'd take him years to master the speed she preferred, he'd gain confidence in riding. With some effort, he might become skilled enough to race.
"I know the perfect spot to begin training."
"Sounds good." Johan's voice trailed off, his expression turning steely.
Yareli turned to discover what caused such a dramatic shift in her friend's mood. A middle-aged man in an aged suit walked into Gramps' parking lot. He had strong features, with a prominent chin and charcoal-colored skin. His short, curly hair had streaks of gray woven within it, giving him a distinguished appearance.
"What are you doing here?" Johan said, not hiding his hostility.
Yareli tensed, but her instincts didn't flag the newcomer as dangerous. In fact, he seemed friendly, with warm, welcoming eyes. He gave Yareli an odd look, but that was a common reaction to her unusual appearance.
"I asked around. They told me you hang around here these days," the man said.
"Now you know. Now you can leave," Johan said, his tone flinty.
"Friedel. Johan's stepfather," Samuel whispered, answering her unasked question.
"Oh." Yareli felt awkward, suddenly thrown into a family squabble.
"Johan, I realize I've never been your favorite person, but I'm here to bring you home," Friedel said.
"Home? My place is here in Bifrost. I left for a reason."
Distress filled Johan's stepfather's features. "Here? But haven't you seen the news? This place has become a warzone! Monsters are literally roaming the streets. The police department—slaughtered! We need you back in Mittenwald, where it's safe. Your mother…"
"My momma isn't around anymore. Besides, she wouldn't want me wasting my life in some no-horse town. In Bifrost, I have a life, a purpose. And I'm not leaving it for anything. Especially you, Friedel."
"Johan, I just don't want to see you get hurt," Friedel said with genuine feeling.
"I can take care of myself." Johan stood straighter, involuntarily touching the sword hidden in his backpack. "I've become a certified badass since you last saw me."
"Okay, it's your life. I'm just trying to look out for you. Believe it or not, I love you, Johan. Always have."
"Sure. But you still aren't my papa." Johan's anger deflated but remained boiling under the surface. "Please, Friedel, fly back to Mittenwald. You're probably in more danger than me." Clearly not wanting to continue the conversation, he stormed back into Gramps' shop.
"That could have gone better," Friedel said, rubbing his temple and letting out a breath. Despite his obvious distress, he gave Johan's friends a weak smile. "Hey."
"Yeah, hi," Rebecca said, giving an awkward wave.
"Damn fool, that Johan. Stubborn like a mule." Samuel only shook his head.
"Just like his mother, I figure," Friedel said with some humor. "Trying to convince her of anything was like trying to dislodge a mountain."
Yareli nodded, amused. Despite her friend's feelings about him, Friedel seemed a decent sort. "Sorry you traveled so far for nothing."
"Nothing? I don't think so. Despite Johan's feelings on the matter, I'm not leaving yet. I came to Bifrost to spend time with my stepson. So that's what I plan on doing."
//
Ralph stifled a yawn, stirring his coffee with his preferred three sugars. He tried—and failed—to blink the tiredness from his eyes. Due to the project's tight deadline, Ralph had pulled almost three all-nighters. Still, he'd made excellent progress. With Linda's help, they'd have it finished long before the deadline.
As per his ritual, he skimmed the news for any interesting tidbits. He skipped past the politics section and right to sports. The Bulls had won against the Nets, 106 to 81, pleasing him. Ralph hoped his home team wouldn't crap out toward the end of the playoffs like last year. He yawned again, hoping he'd stay awake until noon. Bored, he scanned the lifestyle section.
"What? Excessive caffeine's bad for your health? What a shock," he exclaimed, rolling his eyes. Before closing his news app, a sudden thought occurred to him.
"Right. Stock market." Hadn't he bought some DRAY stocks because of that weird equation? It had almost slipped his mind. Not that he had high hopes—DRAY's stock had been in the gutter for several months.
"And it's up?" He furrowed his brow, surprised. DRAY's stock price had risen by almost eight hundred points. News of a promising new product had raised investor confidence.
"Holy." This meant he'd made several thousand dollars for almost nothing!
"It must be a coincidence." He scanned through the stock listing, searching for ONRA. The equation had told him the company's stock would go bunk. His fumbling fingers almost dropped his phone in surprise.
ONRA stock was nothing—pulled from the market altogether. After authorities discovered a connection with the infamous Ymir, they'd frozen its assets. They had strong suspicions it was a dummy company for the mega-conglomerate, pending an extensive investigation. Thank God he'd sold his stocks before disaster struck. Even if the authorities found the company innocent, its Ymir connection would poison its prospects.
Was the equation for real? No, this required more research. Science dictated that conclusions only came from extensive testing. A sample size of two was worthless.
"Hey, Ranjit. Sorry for calling you so early, but I have a few questions."
"Yeah?" While also tired from glamourless, sleepless work, Ranjit sounded alert. They worked at different companies but in the same field. They'd met at a conference. "Is something the matter?"
"Remember that equation I spoke about earlier?"
"Vaguely."
"Both stocks I entered into the equation performed exactly as it predicted."
"Really?" His partner snorted in disbelief. "DRAY actually made you some money?"
"It did. Thousands!"
"You're serious?" Ranjit asked, realizing his friend wasn't joking.
"You're more familiar with these fringe finance forums. Has anyone else had success?" The main forum he enjoyed lurking had banned any discussion about the mysterious equation, considering it a hoax.
"I'll check." His partner tapped at his keyboard. "Yeah, some are. But I wouldn't trust these people as far as I could throw them. Let me message someone I know. He'll have more reliable info."
"Impossible." Ranjit huffed out a breath after a few silent minutes.
"What is it?"
"LordJake44 tells me he's used it on six different stocks in completely different fields, and each has performed just as the equation predicted. But this can't be right. You can't just predict the stock market!"
Ralph's mind raced, considering the implications. With this equation, he'd be rich! Hell, the richest man in the world! He'd never need to see this cramped, crappy cubicle ever again! He could buy his own island! Or make his own, like Bifrost! The sky's the limit. He could fund a trip to space!
"Wait." Then reality struck, forming a pit in his stomach. "Oh f…"
"What is it?" Ranjit asked, listening as his partner entered a string of increasingly colorful and vulgar expletives.
"How widespread is this equation, you think?"
"It's the internet," Ranjit said patiently. "Who can say?"
He dashed to his workstation and pulled up the equation file. He reentered DRAY, seeing the company's prospects in three weeks. Its sudden rise was short-lived, falling so hard he doubted the company's survival. On a whim, he entered another random company from the listing. Its prospects weren't any better. Ralph's blood chilled as he confirmed his worst suspicion. Every company he entered had bottomed out.
"Ralph?" Genuine concern entered Ranjit's voice as his friend went deadly silent.
"It's utter chaos." His voice sounded like grinding sandpaper to his ears. "If everyone has this equation, then there's no way our current global economy can stand. It's the end of the world!"