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BAD END [URBAN NORDICA 2: DEAD ON ARRIVAL POSSIBLE ENDING]

Okay, AHHHH, this one may be even more confusing than the last because AFAIK the second Urban Nordica book, Dead on Arrival, doesn’t actually exist online anymore, NOR IS IT ACTUALLY FINISHED. But I wrote this back when it was in full go, AND BY ODIN’S BEARD I WILL POST IT. Needless to say, SPOILERS. Also, it starts with some REALLY nasty profanity.

My probably, most likely really bad ending (minus epilogues that actually help wrap things up. Have ‘em planned, haven’t written them) to Urban Nordica: Dead on Arrival. GET THEE READY FOR LULZ AND HEAD-SHAKING.

“That bitch! That god damn, stupid, self-important, thunder-cunt slut!” Loki fumed, his actions as animated as his words were vulgar. Miriah avoided his swinging claws and climbed over the rubble that had been part of a wall in Wayne’s room; glass and drywall were strewn about, leaving a bloodied Dee and Wayne crumpled on the floor. Miriah put her fingers to each of their throats to check what she already figured would be true.

“They’re still alive,” Miriah said quietly. “We should call emergency services though, stat,” she added, looking up at the god. She could see the waves of heat washing off of him in his anger; she felt as though he was doing all he could to resist laying waste to this part of the city. Miriah looked around quickly, turning white when she realized who was missing. “Sigmund! Oh shit!” She lifted up the rubble as best she could, but there was no one beneath. Miriah’s stomach turned at the thought of what Loki was going to do to Tara once he got his talons on her. She turned to look at him as he pulled back into himself, finished scouring the city for his wife. Miriah didn’t need the ability; she knew in her gut where she’d go. She’d figured out what was going on only recently, and it was the answer that made sense. “She’s going to your tower.”

“She’s already there,” he said, unfurling his wings and preparing to take off. Miriah leapt forward and grabbed his arm immediately.

“You’re not going without me.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what I’m…” he started, and at the end of her rope Miriah slapped him mid-sentence. The sheer impudence of the act stunned Loki in his tracks.

“You listen to me! I have it figured out, dammit! Her appearance, the death by cop, the arson of the morgue, the initial attack on you, the gaining of power, the gaining of followers and now a fucking hostage on the tallest building in town. I don’t know if even she realizes it, but this is old hat to me. She and I, we’ve done this before. All of it! You’ve had the fucking comics right here in front of you!” she shouted, turning the dusty laptop on the desk in the remaining corner to him. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why – maybe it’s my own Eddas – but our story, her and I, it’s being writ large on your world. And if you want it to stop, you are going to let me fulfill my purpose,” she said, running out of breath. “This is what has to be done.” Loki sneered at the woman, but the scowl was soon replaced by a somewhat sardonic smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Self- doubt is not a luxury a hero can afford,” she replied, remembering their chat in the hospital. “She was never going to fade like the good stories. We’re pulled from different stuff – it wasn’t belief that brought us here. But the path is the same – I meddled; I meddled because I was meant to meddle, because that’s my whole purpose,” she explained, walking to what was left of the window. “And now we’re coming up on the end of the story.”

—//—

A light flurry blew through the air as Miriah and Loki made their way to Lokabrenna in the dark of the cloud covered moon. Paramedics had been dispatched to attend to Dee and Wayne, and with no time to waste Loki had carried Miriah to the gleaming tower at the center of the city. When they set down on the room, they could see the silhouette of DeLioncourt; Miriah had trouble making her out, though Loki likely had less trouble. She was completely nude now, and Loki could see the drool dripping from her predator’s grin. She had Sigmund uncomfortably held in her grasp.

Loki charged in, and everything went slow to Miriah – it wasn’t right, too easy, too fast – instead of holding her hostage firm, she tossed him toward the edge of the building, but even she could tell it wasn’t enough to throw him over. Her smile was too keen – it was when the clouds broke and she could finally see the woman that she realized what Loki, in his haste, had ignored.

As Tara had planned he would.

“It’s a trap!” Miriah screamed, but it was too late – in his fury, Loki had already leapt on her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder…

…only to howl in sheer agony immediately after. Tara laughed shrilly in the cold as the god clasped his hands over his bloodied mouth, wide eyes rolling. In sheer horror, Miriah remembered a discussion she and Dee had had when picking up supplies at the mall.

Fucking Christmas, it comes earlier every year. We just had Halloween for fuck’s sake!

Embedded throughout the woman’s pale skin was sprig after sprig of Mistletoe, blood dripping from each hole through which the plants were held. It was under her skin, meticulously placed over her entire body.

Loki couldn’t kill her without he himself being split in two. But now, even worse, was his intended shell made anathema to his very being. Miriah ran to Loki’s side, but found herself slapped backward by Tara. She grabbed Loki by the hair and began to slam her fist into him repeatedly, her already augmented strength made worse by knuckles barbed with the plant. Miriah shook off the blow and crawled to Sigmund, who laid on his side, breathing slowly. She checked him for wounds and to her relief she found nothing serious on him. As Miriah dragged the wife of the god away from the conflict, she could hear Tara babbling at Loki while she continued her assault.

“Should have stayed out of my head!” she screamed, spitting in his face, “Left me with your dirty little secrets! Knew what you are!” Miriah gazed in concern, looking for an opening as the snow lightly fell. Loki’s colour had faded, she noticed, and she tried not to panic. Finally, Tara grabbed him by the throat and spun him around, sprigs of mistletoe in her chest digging lightly into his back. She held his gaze steady until, in the distance, the unmistakable sound of an explosion was heard. Loki’s eyes widened at this transgression; Tara laughed. “First one! Burn!”

Miriah put her hand over her mouth – it was beyond the pale. Tara’s little gang of kids had crossed a line, and Miriah watched in horror at the scale of her latest machination. The horror was soothed by relief when, not long after the first explosion, Tara’s expression turned sour.

“More! More! Where is it?” she screamed into the air, throwing the god down to the ground, hard. He tried to kick her upon his release, but the wounds kept him down; she delivered a solid kick to his ribs in return. Miriah breathed in relief – whatever Tara had planned apparently hadn’t gone exactly to plan. She made a note to herself to thank Esia for doing her job well. As Tara screamed into the night, Miriah crept over to Loki’s side, quietly dragging him away from behind the babbling psychopath. His mouth oozed blood and his eyes burned with a sort of wounded fury.

“Loki,” Miriah hissed, “Loki, snap out of it, stay with us. Loki, I need one of your blades, you have to get it out, please!” she begged, and while confused, the god nodded – with what seemed like a distressing amount of effort, a smoldering scythe-like blade formed in his hand. Holding her hand over his, Miriah held tight as she propped the god up with her, his blood burning her flesh – she pushed it aside.

“Yo, she-bitch,” Miriah shouted, making Tara turn on her heels. “Let’s go!”

Tara raised her hand to strike her nemesis, but Miriah was faster. Screaming, she slashed with Loki’s hand and the blade in it – Tara looked stunned as the blade disappeared into her gut, only to reappear moments later further up the Y-incision on her chest. She shrieked as Miriah ripped the blade back and split Tara’s flesh wide open. The blade disappeared as Loki dropped it, and Loki himself staggered to his feet as Miriah plunged her hand and stump into the black, empty wound, tearing the incision open not just to its fullest, but beyond, wrenching the wound as far as it would go.

“This ends tonight!” Miriah screamed in Tara’s face – it seemed an appropriate thing to say. Tara laughed, a horrible, gurgling noise that made absolutely no sense; looking down, Miriah saw the black, cold void creeping up her arms and shrieked. Loki began to step forward, but found himself restrained by Sigmund, who watched in anger as the girl was slowly swallowed up by Tara’s innards. She flailed her arms, but it wouldn’t shake loose – it crept over her body, spreading as Tara’s laugh died down. Soon the entire gift of the Narjotnar had abandoned the vessel – Tara dropped to the concrete ground, stone dead. Miriah, despite her protests, was soon enveloped in the void – and her protests ceased when she was hidden from view.
After moments of silence, Loki stepped toward the shape of Miriah, concerned – this was not the proper behavior of void, but then it had never been used to power a peroxide laden psychotic before either, he thought woozily. Miriah ignored him, walking over to the body of her enemy and easily hoisting it onto her shoulder. Loki noticed she had two hands once more. She turned, featureless save for the same outline and eyes that gleamed like small stars set in the face.

“It’s not finished yet,” same a voice like Miriah’s, yet mixed with something else; something worse. She looked at the body on her shoulder. “There’s a van in your lobby. Another bomb. It will do,” she stated, walking to the edge of the building and looking down.

“Do for what?” Loki asked; he didn’t get an answer. Miriah dropped down from the building as though it were nothing, her load in tow.

—//—

She landed in front of the shattered doors to Lokabrenna’s headquarters, her impact raising shrieks from the teens surrounding the nondescript white van sitting in the lobby. Miriah recognized the girl in the lead – she had been Tara’s first recruit, the one who shot Miriah earlier in this whole ordeal. Again she raised her gun but it didn’t stop Miriah, who swept the resistance away without thinking, the girl’s bullets disappearing into the inky blackness that surrounded her. Undeterred she threw Tara’s lifeless body into the passenger seat, and climbed into the driver’s position. The van started – it was required – and Miriah saw the timer counting down on the bomb in the back. Looking forward she stepped on the gas, driving the van through the large hole that had been an entrance once. On the radio, Johnny Cash sang We’ll Meet Again; Miriah hummed to it as she held Tara close to her, glancing only once into the rearview mirror as she drove into the empty park that surrounded the building. She felt nothing.

—//—

Sigmund flinched at the explosion that lit up the night sky from the park, while Loki simply looked on from atop the tower he’d nearly lost. It burned brightly for a while, and when emergency crews appeared to put out the flames he reached out with his essence; he shortly after breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fucking finally.”