Police Officer Sören Bergström put his coffee down on the table, sat down beside his colleague Sophie and looked at the young Nurse on the opposite side of the small
hospital room.
The young woman felt visibly uncomfortable in the proximity of the two law enforcers as she avoided eye contact and held her arms close to herself.
Sören shot a quick questioning look at Sophie who only shrugged in response and continued to look trough the files on Bjarnes laptop in front of her.
Knowing that it was on him Sören pushed his coffee to the other side of the table.
The young woman looked up and the officer gave her a hand signal, the coffee was for her.
"Two pieces of sugar, I hope you like it that way." he added on as she carefully reached out and took the cup.
He waited patiently until she had taken a sip and nodded thankfully, giving her a moment to relax before he pressed the issue at hand.
"I think we haven't been introduced yet, my Name is Sören Bergström, I am in charge of the investigation surrounding the incident in the hospital here.
So far we are only processing what even happened, so you should have no reason to be concerned right now, okay?"
The woman nodded, just as cautious as before.
"So..." Sören reached out, trying to find an approach that wouldn't give her a reason to be alarmed.
"...could you start by telling me your name? I am sure my colleagues told me, but with all the names you need to keep inside your head in my job, you know..."
He tried a light smile and her pose lighted just a bit as she sat up to response.
"My name is Laura, Laura Martens." she said in a low voice.
"First time in contact with the police?" he asked with a friendly smile and she nodded.
"True, not even a traffic violation, at last none we or our system would know about." Sophie added on while still looking at the laptop.
The woman looked a bit concerned when Sophie spoke, but relaxed again when Sören picked up where she left off.
"Her point is that you don't have anything to fear from us. You have no criminal record and we are only talking to you as a witness.
Whatever you saw, it won't be used against you in any way." Sören said.
"Expect if you stole sleeping pills from the storage room or something, but that's not something we are asking about." He joked and she answered with a slight smile.
"Listen Laura." he began more serious.
"You told my colleague earlier that you thought you saw the man in red that was causing all that trouble somewhere before. Could you tell us where?"
Laura leaned forward and thought about it for a while before she answered.
"What did that man in red do?" she asked uncertainly.
"As far as we know he attacked and chased after a suspect that had taken out one of our officers who was standing guard over a criminal that was placed under
protection here."
Sophie answered for her superior.
"He is not really a suspect right now either." Sören added on.
"To be honest, we had a run in with him yesterday night, and the worst we can accuse him of here is property damage. Actually things might have gone worse if he
hadn't shown up."
Sophie gave Sören a doubtful look, but played along regardless.
"Yes, in that regard we would need to speak with him so we can make clear what happened today." she added on.
"Any small info where we might find him can be very helpful right now."
Laura nodded and looked form one officer to the other before she finally began to talk.
"I was with a man yesterday. He got a call he didn't pick up, put the face of the caller on the mobile phone was the same as the man in red that stormed out of the
hospital today.
Or at last I think so."
The two police officers looked at each other, came to the same conclusion and Sophie called upon some files on her laptop.
"Could the man be on this photo?" she asked before she turned the device around and showed here the security footage their younger colleague had dug up.
Laura looked at it carefully and took her time to make sure she didn't mistake him.
"Yes, that is him, Steve I mean. Who is that woman beside him?" Laura asked uncertainly.
"She claims to be his sister form what we gathered last night. Do you have his full name, it might help in the long run."
Laura shook her.
"If you got a look at his phone, maybe you can tell me if he had a certain call sign or something?" Sören asked carefully.
Once again Laura thought about it for some time before she continued.
"Yes, I think the mobile phone said 'War' is calling 'Strife'. He explained to me they are the nicknames they are using for each other."
Sören scratched his head and nodded to himself.
So there was at least something to what he had thought about their names, War, Strife, Death, the only nickname that still didn't make sense yet was that of the Sister.
He put the thought on a back-burner.
"One other question Laura, can you tell me where you live?"
War tensed only slightly as Fury fastened the bandages on his mangled leg.
The bandages were still applied professionally but some of them had more strength in them then others whenever her anger came through.
"Next time you decide to jump in front of a bus tell me and I make sure you stay down alright?"
While War remained visibly unmoved and could just as well have been made of stone while Strife was sitting on Vulgrims vacant Chair and hiding behind one of the
comics he had purchased.
He knew better than to draw attention to himself while his Sister was as charged with anger as she was now.
Fury huffed and fixed the rest of the bandages before she stepped back and looked at her work.
"You still look like shit. Nothing new on that front. But you should be able to stick together for the next few days. Or at last for the next mission.
If you get messed up there as well, I won't be the one who stitches you back together this time around." Fury made clear with a hiss.
War only nodded, pulled his pants over the bandages and looked at his sibling.
"Thank you Fury. I appreciate your help sister." he stated.
Fury groaned and threw her arms up in the air.
"Damn it War! If you could stop jumping into every meat grinder you can find, that would really help me and my nerves a whole lot." Fury admitted with a sigh.
She sighed again and looked her younger brother up and down.
He might have stepped out of the pool of life nearly full grown as one of the last named Nephilim, but somehow he would always be her young brother.
His size and powers in battle be dammed!
"Just try and don't get stabbed or something. I would hate to patch you up yet again." Fury warned.
"Fruitless endeavour Sister." Strife couldn't help but point out from the other side of the room and behind the safety of his literature.
"I bet he will get shot, stabbed or both before we are done here. It's not like he can't take it."
"Who gives a shit about the opinion of people on the cheap seats? Go read your picture books and shut it Strife." Fury took a shot at his expense before turning back
to War.
"Why did neither Death nor you tell me that you actually got shot yesterday?"
"I was on a mission. Fights happen and wounds along with them. There was no need to tell you. And neither did you ask."
He answered flatly, Fury only let out a huff in response.
"Besides, you know the saying, blood is the..." he didn't make it much further.
"Don't say it! Don't finish that sentence; we have all heard it often enough by now. I so don't need that right now!"
"Yea War, why didn't you tell her you got shot? I am sure it would have gone super smooth and everything." Strife couldn't help but chime in sarcastically.
Fury shot him a glare while Strife still pretended that his comic was vastly superior entertainment.
For a moment deadly silence set on the small room which Strife, in a sudden burst of unexpected wisdom, quickly interrupted before it could grow more potent.
He took his eyes of the comic and turned it around so that the others could see its cover clearly.
The big green monster on it was screaming in rage while fighting cowardly scientists that futility tried to run away from it.
"You guys know who that is?" he asked with a grin.
"Your long lost, better looking brother?" Fury guessed deadpan.
"Actually, that's the Hulk, and I think he has more in common with you than any of us dear sister."
Strife stated, his grin growing wider.
"Oh really? And how is that so?" Fury asked, her eyes growing smaller.
"Well, the dude gets stronger the angrier he gets, and if you want something torn down he is the man you wanna' go to. Did I mention he is pretty overpowered?"
Fury moved her head slightly and looked Strife up and down.
"And where is the catch?" she asked with suspicion.
Strife simply shrugged. "Honestly, I don't really know a good one. He might get all super angry on you thought and then even his teammates have some problems to
hold him back or bring him down."
Fury blinked taken aback, obviously expecting something quite different from her brother.
"I guess my point is that my sister is actually really awesome and simply shouldn't be messed with if you want the bones in your body to remain intact."
Strife scratched his head and bit his lip, thinking how else he could continue only to find nothing.
"Yea, seems like I painted myself into a corner here. Totally saw that going different in my mind."
He confessed with half faux smile and a honest shrug.
Fury just shook her head and snickered before she picked up one of the furled bandages and threw it in Strifes general direction.
"You god-damn buffoon!" she complained with a laugh.
War looked on as his older brother theatrically dove for cover and began to beg for mercy even thought Fury didn't even bother to find something else to throw at him.
A corner of his mouth moved just slightly upwards as he witnessed the shenanigans of his siblings.
His brother's trade and power might be one of mischief and chaos, but that didn't mean that he didn't know how to do the opposite. At last if he felt like it.
"... I mean, Black Widow would be a nice comparison too if you like, she has a decent fighting style..." Strife tried to continue as Fury rolled her eyes at his attempt to
appease her.
"... there is also Director Fury, a scary black man right now – Nigga stole your name I guess, and I heard he swears a lot – then again he is 'only' a normal bad-ass
human soo..."
Fury shook her head and sighed.
"No Strife, I think I like the part where you compared me with a undefeatable monster that tears its enemy's limb from limb the most. No take backs."
Strife put his hand up and let his head sink in played defeat.
"So what about you? Anyone that compares to yourself in your wide collection of drawn books?" Fury asked and picked up one of the other comics Strife had thrown
about.
He immediately raised a finger in enlightenment and looked through the stack of comics by his side.
It didn't take long for him to fish out an issue with a flying man in red and gold metal armour on its cover.
"Bang! Iron Man folks!" He introduced with slight bit too much gusto.
Which, knowing Strife, was probably deliberate.
"He invented his own flying combat armour, would probably get jealous if he knew what Heaven can do with magic and stuff. Knows how to hang out and throw a
party. I think we would get along great."
"Dose his profile also mention 'irresponsible, dangerous to himself and others, and likes to make a big entrance?" Fury quipped as she inspected a comic Strife had
thrown to the side.
"Not directly..." Strife avoided the question. "But he definitely knows how to make an entrance. And what does he call himself without the armour in that one movie
again?
'Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.'
I dear say I qualify for all four."
He put up one hand and began counting on his fingers for everyone to see while his siblings watched on with various levels of scepticism.
"Genius: True of course. I invented most of my own gadgets, and some of my best and most innovative guns are made by myself. They are awesome fun if I might add,
especially the chain lightning one."
"If it doesn't blow up in his face at least, or if you ignore the water gun filled with holy water experiment..." Fury scoffed under a held up hand towards War, not even
bothering to whisper.
"I heard that you rascal!" Strife admonished playfully with his one held up finger while Wars lips tugged upwards just slightly.
"Billionaire: Out of the four of us I might be the only one who actually invests all the gilt, gold, soul energy and all the other crap people throw at us, properly. While
you guys might hoard your stuff in your homes or some secret dimension cambers, whathaveyou, I invest my stuff. And guess what?
I easily increase my income if I don't straight up double it."
Strife held up a second finger and leaned back in pride.
"Only because you basically bought your own bar and strip club doesn't mean you are a good business man Strife!" Fury couldn't help to hold back an attempt to wipe
the smug grin of his face.
The rider of the white horse simply took it in stride and held his head high before he continued.
"Playboy: As you all know, my history with the la..."
"Everybody and their mother already knows that one Strife! Get one with it!" Fury shouted at him through a mouthpiece she had formed with her hands.
The Horseman shrugged with played indifference and skipped too the fourth finger on his hand.
"Philantropist: Good old Greek language if I am not mistaken.
Basically means friend to all of humanity at this point in time, or friend to all living things in creation in our case. And all who know me also know that I am nothing but a
friendly man to all that come to me.
I hire mercenaries of all kind, no matter their background. My neighbours all profit from me and I even help them out for a considerably low price. And even if you ask
the angels in heaven themselves..."
Strife took the risk and looked at Fury and War who both were eying him with increasing suspicion.
"...they would probably dive for cover and sound the alarm before you could wreck another of their libraries." His sister finished for him in a deadpan tone.
"That one was a honest mistake, But yea, okay, maybe Philantroph is not my biggest stick. But three out of four isn't that bad of a comparison I might add."
"What about this guy? He reminds me of you for some reason." Fury avoided an answer and held up an issue with a superhero in a full body red suite that held a thug
in a headlock and a gun to his face.
"Don't struggle Compadre or you are going to sneeze out your brains amigo!" His speech bubble said while he winked towards the reader with a wide grin that was
still discernible despite his mask.
"Making bad racial jokes, while twirling his guns around and throwing his 'charm' at everyone that didn't manage to jump down a hole by the count of three.
Totally gets the gist of you with the cover alone."
"That guy is actually Deadpool." Strife stated half alarmed before he suddenly sat straight up in his chair, carefully pulled is cloths straight cleaned his throat and raised
his finger like a delicate gentleman.
"I like to think myself as a more refined creature than this fellow." He said with a played snobby attitude before he fell back into the chair and crossed his legs in the
same lazy attitude as before.
"But no really, he also gets called "The merc with a mouth", because he just doesn't stop talking and quipping.
And before you guys point it out: Yes, I can get on peoples nerves as well, but I for one know the right dose.
With that guy - while he is pretty funny at times I must admit – I always feel like he is not doing it right.
And I also always get the feeling that his abusing his R-rated privileges a bit too much."
Fury raised an eyebrow and looked at Strife with a question on her face.
The rider of the white horse simply sighed.
"Yea, he might be an ass, and I am an ass myself. You are right; there might be some 'slight' overlapping. But I have some great experience at being an ass, with all
the eons passing by and having seen whoknows obviously.
As such he just seems childish to me in most of his efforts. Also, despite what everyone believes about me, I am far more professional.
...
And by far more handsome of course."
He sat back, clicked his tongue and looked challenging from one of his siblings to the other who shared looks themselves.
"It seems like our brother would like to avoid any comparison to the figure called "Deadpool." Fury pointed out with malicious intent in her eyes while War only nodded.
Strife sighed and nodded to himself as he realized what she was getting at.
"And people wonder why I rarely tell the truth." He said to no one in particular as he realized his mistake.
"Says the one how gets on everyone's nerves whenever he can." Fury shot back.
"Seems like you forgot who was the true torture master in this room brother." War couldn't help but point out with a slight note of sympathy in his voice.
"So what about War Mr Deadpool?" Fury asked as she looked at her younger brother.
"Dose one of your Comics have character that compares to him?" she asked with a smirk as she turned her attention to the Warrior who's eyebrows grew closer
together in mistrust.
Strife thought about it with an audible "Hmm..." and put a finger on his temple in thinker pose.
"War you say? Maybe as resolute as Captain America?" he made a wild guessed.
"Who?" War asked with suspicion.
"I thought America was a Continent, not a boat." Fury stated deadpan, which Strife just waved off in played annoyance.
"Okay, the best thing I got is probably Thor, even if they got him all wrong." he pointed out and quit thinking about something better.
"How can anyone get Thor 'wrong'?" Fury asked sceptical.
"Well, for one, he is blond now." Strife stated and started a numerical list with his hands.
"The glorious beard isn't as glorious any more, the second.
He is portrayed less like the brutal warrior that went to suplex Demons and Giants alike every other Thursday and more like a nobel warrior guy that listens to his big
daddy, the third.
The outfit looks really damn funny with the red robe and all, the fourth.
And the complete entire realm of Asgard seems to only consist of one really shiny city, the fifth. … Should I add that guys they call Einherjer in those story's aren't even
worth the name, if they appear at all?"
He waved a sixth finger in the air just slightly.
"Should I go on? I am sure I could find some more I would need to refresh my memory a bit thought. Which reminds me that they basically totally fucked up Ragnarö..."
"Don't get yourself a headache Strife, it totally isn't worth it." Fury laughed and Strife nearly gave up.
"They didn't even get Jörmungandr right..." he blew air out of his mouth like an emptying balloon and shrugged.
"Well, I guess it is a bit difficult when you where there, walked beside them, shared ale with them and witnessed the Twilight of their whole Pantheon right?"
Strife looked at War who nodded in agreement and felt the need to speak up.
"I saw the Thundergod die when the poison of the Worldsnake left its body from the wounds his lightning had inflicted on it. Even the mightiest God couldn't have
walked any further then Thor did."
Fury sighed. He was right.
As enforcers of the council they had seen the planet shattering event of Raganrök first hand.
It hadn't been the first nor the last time they had witnessed a conflict as apocalyptic as when the Aesir kin and their allies had fought against their countless enemy's
in one final conflict that had set the whole realm of Asgard on fire.
It had been up to the horseman to make sure that Surtr, the king of the fire giants, would go back to where he belonged.
Just like they had beaten back the Titans from a ravaged mount Olympus.
They had found many age old friends and even enemy's dead after both.
"Isn't there an ancient legend that at last Balder would somehow return from the brink?" Fury asked flatly.
"That old bundle of sunshine and rainbows?" Strife quipped. "Pretty sure one of use would have found out about him making a comeback tour by now."
"Since we are kind off discussing old friends, do you know wherever Bes is still around or not?"
Fury took her chances once more.
"The little bugger that outlived his own pantheon right? Last time I sought him out he was recovering from a hangover, tried to steal my tobacco and gave me all kinds
of answers.
Expect, of course, the one I wanted.
I would say he is doing pretty well, for a god like him and in his position at last."
Strife answered with a little too uncaring shrug.
"But at last he got me in the right direction to find Baba Yaga, that old hag is certainly not going to die anytime soon, that's for sure.
Speaking of death and such, War, did I hear right that the old maker warrior Osgrim bit the dust some time ago?"
War nodded deliberately.
"Oh, so I didn't hear wrong?" Strife wondered out loud. "I was pretty sure it was horseshit, especially since I heard story's that he died at home in his bed like some
old man. I always guessed he would end up surviving us all."
Strife chuckled without passion and shook his head in disbelief.
War looked up and corrected what Strife thought to be lies.
"He died of old age four years ago, at home in his bed, surrounded by his family."
Strife blinked, shook his head and scratched his ear with a finger before he asked slightly perplex:
"He did what?"
"He died of old age four years ago, at..."
"Yea, I actually got that, stop acting like you don't understand my bullshit. I mean... How? Why? Holy Socks, why didn't you tell me sooner man?!"
Strife threw up his hands in confusion and small hint of anger that didn't make the mistake to linger long.
"I still remember when we fought against him and his people back during the Nephilim Rampages. I know Makers that are older, everyone of us knows at last five that
are. How the hell did he die of old age? Those guys are basically immortal!"
Strife reeled back slightly stunned while Fury only spoke a silent prayer for an old friend.
One of the few her people ever had.
"True, many Makers are older than him, but it was still age that killed him." War replied, with such a slight sorrow on his face that only Fury managed to take notice of
it.
Coming from him that was saying a lot.
"He had two wives in his lifetime, both died or were killed way before came to rest. Both gave him beautiful children, five in total.
Three of his four sons went on to become warriors, just like him. Now only one of his sons and his daughter remain.
Not many could best him in combat, and sometimes your own talent can be your greatest curse.
With the ages he saw his children and beloved die, while he himself endured, like a mountain that watches everything else around him crumble.
When I last spoke to him I asked if he wanted to die with a weapon in hand and he shook his head.
'I've been more than only a warrior in life, if I go I will do so on my own terms'.
And that he did.
When he fell ill he didn't manage to fight it because there was no more fight left to spend for him.
His family had enough time to gather around him and say their goodbyes before his soul went on to the afterlife.
There are worse deaths than his, and he spent his life well.
That is all there is to say."
Strife had his head supported on his hands and his elbows on his legs while he shook his head at War in disbelief.
"We were talking about silly comic book heroes no less than three minutes ago, who allowed you to hit my gloom and doom buttons War? I certainly didn't sign the
papers for this trip, that's for sure!"
He turned to face Fury still shaking his head.
"You asked me how he died. I gave you a solid answer." War stated the facts.
"Solid like a punch in the gut on a Friday evening, yea." Strife admitted with a slight nod.
"Why didn't you tell me about his death sooner? We used to drink beers together as well remember?" he tried once again.
"I had my hands full at that time. And when my sword was clean again I was certain you had already heard about it.
Seeing how you claim that your spies will tell you things none others do." War replied bluntly.
"I thought my 'spies' were bullshiting me on this one." Strife confessed. "And you don't spy on people like Osgrim anyway, shit rarely works out.
But you were friends with Osgrim and some of the other guys like his calibre, if I need info about them I go to you."
"And you got your Information." War pointed out.
Strife only shrugged and nodded at the same time in a gesture of resignation.
"Well, you aren't wrong. You know what happened to his halberd?"
"His son inherited it. He plans on using it himself."
"Means I can't go and get my fingers on it?"
"Not if you want to keep them."
"Well, it was a nice weapon, fully integrated..."
Strife stopped talking as he saw Fury softly shaking her head at him.
He shrugged again and gave up, his sister knew him to well.
She was right; there was no point in feigning indifference.
He was certain even War was only playing along.
"Awshit!" he exclaimed and leaned back.
"Everyone and there mom is biting the dust sooner or later. Isn't that the truth anyway?" he stated and knocked on the wood of his chair.
"We are just the guys that are going to be around and attend every single one of their funerals because the council doesn't even want to let their expensive toys to
die in peace.
Or should I say, 'stay dead'?"
He clapped his hands together half-heartedly and gave his trademark grin.
Sure, lower demons and monsters usually found it at last annoying or irritating, enough to provoke a fight or worse, but he was in front of his siblings.
Even War could easily see that his brother was tired of seeing old ally's, associates and friends move on to the afterlife while they remained behind no matter how
many times they had died in the name of the council.
It was a feeling they all shared in one way or another.
"On the other hand, we can be happy that we are allowed our occasional fuckups. Some of my deaths might have been a bit embarrassing if they would have been the
last thing people remembered of me. You guys remember that story with the two succubuses in the fourth circle of hell?"
Fury nodded with a slight grin a sigh.
After all, any death that included eight galleons of syrup, three confused chicken, a faked card game and various reports of a stark naked Strife fighting for his life with rotten eggs while managing to burn down the brothel he was in, was born to become one story that wouldn't be forgotten so soon.
"What, those two were pretty persuasive. I take no responsibility for having lost my clothes and armour in a solid card game." He tried to defend himself with a sly
grin.
Fury couldn't help but chuckle at the story itself and especially Strifes face when the council brought his soul back from the brink, even if they waited ten years to 'teach
him a lesson'.
Even War shook his head in badly played disappointment to try and hid that his lips weren't as much of a line as he would like.
If one day Strife was neither able nor trying to turn a formerly cheerless situation into the opposite, no matter how awkward his methods, one knew that things were
to be taken serious.
"It is not like all of the ones we once fought with and against all died out over night either."
War stated and managed to banish the smile from his lips.
"Yea? On the top of your head, who of the old class is still up and going strong?" Strife asked with amusement.
"Michael is still one of the oldest angels in existence, and a formidable foe to boot. Or..."
"Or his brother Lucy." Strife interrupted. "Dude still hasn't gotten over the fact that he got his butt kicked by his bro and went to overthrow the last regent of hell.
Only so he can make his own heaven "with blackjack and hookers" ... at last that's what I have heard. The old cry baby." Strife couldn't help but make a snide remark.
"It's not like he managed to outsmart your web of lies and tricks on several occasions before." Fury didn't even feel slightly guilty at her remark.
Strife shrugged and gave an admitting nod.
"There might be a reason why the call him 'The prince of lies' and all that, but I assure you that my methods have more elegance and class."
Strife protested and patted his own back in a play full manner.
"And I like to claim that I won most of our little scuffles."
He tried to downplay his involvement.
"Anyway, since we are checking on old associates." Fury cut in before their talk could flow any further.
"What about Wukong? I am fairly certain he is still going strong, or am I wrong?" she wanted to know with a look at Strife.
"Why are you asking me?! How should I know where that guy is jumping about? Do I look like I hang out with him often or something?"
Strife wanted to know as he slammed his fist down in a sudden mood swing of played up offence.
Once again he only had to look at War and Fury who both weren't buying it.
After all, He and Wukong had been found working with or against each other on several occasions eons before.
"Okay, okay." He calmed down since denying wasn't a real possibility.
"I seriously don't know where he is going around those days. It has been a couple of ages since we last hung out together.
Pretty sure some story's say he slipped and fell on a banana peel or something.
But that kind of rumour goes around every other century.
And you know how the saying goes when it comes to beings of our calibre: 'The reputed dead live the longest.'
So until I found his dead body, a source I can trust that attests he is dead, or get my hands on some other trustworthy information, I am going to assume that he is
just hanging out in one of the farthest corners of creation.
It is not the first time he would have taken a timeout for a couple of century anyway.
Which reminds me, you know who doesn't stay dead for long, despite rumours of the opposite?"
Strife made a brief pause for suspension as he looked from one rider to the other.
Fury only rolled her eyes at his antics while War didn't even grant him that.
"Comic Book heroes, that's who."
He made jazz hands when he put forth his reveal as if it was a surprise worthy of applause, only to act dismayed when neither of the two reacted accordingly.
"Yea okay, I already thought that was common knowledge by now." He said in played sadness.
"Seems like we have gone full circle and made it back to comic books hm?" Fury commented while Strife still acted disappointed.
"So why do they not stay dead for long?" she asked with a sigh when Strife didn't bother to change his act.
As soon as the last word left her mouth Strife sat himself straight up again and cleared his throat like a machine that had received new batteries.
Fury knew that she had just played straight into the hands of his small scale drama, but if it meant they would have something more to talk about while they waited it probably wouldn't hurt.
"It is actually quite simple." Strife said and moved his thumps over his fingers in a well known signal for flowing money.
"Wouldn't want to kill of a well selling character now, would you? That's why you can be sure that Superman will be back a few issues down the road because he never
'really' was dead, or happened to regenerate somehow.
Even that one friend character that fell down a massive height didn't freeze to death in the snow. Nope, he was just conveniently picked up for a ride and shows up a
few decades later.
Meanwhile Loreal Thor survives Ragnarök itself, because - Odin Force! – or something along that line, don't brother with the small print stuff.
Not saying the old gods didn't have their workarounds in some cases, or that they were some hard bastards to begin with, but as we know most of them didn't stick
around until forever either."
He made a quick pause when an absurd idea popped into his head and then decided to go on either way.
"Which leads me to belief that we might actually be good material for a comic book ourselves?"
Strife shrugged helplessly when his siblings eyed him up and down, not certain if he was joking or serious.
"Hey, the idea just came to me and beat me over the head when I wasn't looking. I mean, I can see it, it wouldn't be totally unreasonably."
He tried to defend his idea but without much conviction himself.
"We are fighting monsters, criminals and fanatics every other day. Much excitement, very intriguing, everyone goes wow.
We are a bunch of misfits stuck with powers and a job far above our pay grade... in fact we rarely get even paid ...
And!"
He once more made a quick pause to heighten the 'suspense'.
"With the charred council bringing us back every time we bite the dust – if they feel generous or need us even in the matter of a few months and without taking our
stuff – we would even have a good explanation for why we suckers are still around.
I mean, yea, sometimes it sucks a bit. But on the other hand, if my first death would have stuck, I would never have gone on to hunt demons while riding a giant fire
snake on molten lava – got them all by chasing them of a lava fall bytheway – and that is one of the story's people would be burning to hear."
Strife put his hands against his hips in pride like a woodcutter that was certain he had his task completed just right.
"Which makes the council the sadistic company owners that just won't let us die for their profit right?" Fury asked deadpan.
"It's not like our resurrection insurance isn't something nice to have, I mean we would probably be damn to hell – literally – by now. But yea, in the end that would
truly make them the insufferable bureaucratic company heads nobody likes but everyone has to work with."
Strife admitted.
"From a certain point of view at last." He added on.
Everyone knew that Strife was the least to follow the council's laws and orders by the letter and used every way to interpret them how he saw fit, a fact they were
aware of.
But even thought he and his bosses rarely got along he still knew better than to be openly defiant if he could help it.
After all they still were mostly on the same side.
"Hey, who knows, maybe we can even get them to loan us a start up money to publish our own comic?" He threw into the room.
"Where?" War simply asked.
Strife shrugged. "Here on earth of course. Where else? Heaven or Hell wouldn't buy that crap as well."
"Yes, of course." Fury quipped. "And once the apocalypse actually happens they can go like 'Hey look, it is Strife, the guy from the comics. He is just as idiotic as in
them!' while they get slaughtered by heaven and hell. It's going to be real great."
Strife blew ait out his nose in amusement. "Like humanity will ever get up to pace with the big players. Even with all their technology and exciting arsenal of death they
have by now, they wouldn't stand a chance even if both parties would only send their infantry and kept their flying fortresses and fleets at home.
They have no magic talent anymore and probably will never reach the level of readiness needed that is told of in the prophecies. At last not in the next ten thousand
years, give or take.
And then there is the part where they have only one world to fall back to while heaven and hell both life in at last half a dozen of main realms, and that's not counting
their allies.
I mean... we could just try it for a few dozen decades as a hobby and see how it goes."
"And who would draw those comics?" Fury asked amused enough at Strifes day dreaming to play along.
"Well, I thought ... maybe ... if possible, we all would have a go at it?" Strife explained while scratching his head and acting all uncertain.
"Admittedly, Wars drawing skills might be a bit rusty, but if we all work together and put all our passion, love and some sunshine and rainbows into it we might get
something..."
Fury shook her head and was about to point out why his plan wouldn't work – or at last not as flawless as he thought – when the door to the small back door finally
opened and Death stepped in.
He was followed by Vulgrims illusion of an old man and they were both carrying a wooden crate between them that they sat up on one of the desks.
"Ah, finally you guys made it. We nearly bored ourselves to death here." Strife welcomed them with a quip.
Death had heard the pun so many times that he wisely elected to ignore it and turned to Fury.
"Anything I should know?" he asked
Before his sister could answer Strife cut in.
"We just all decided that my idea of creating our own comic books with us as the protagonists is great. War said it was cool, Fury said it was mega, I am fire and flame.
When do we start?
Bytheway, you can't protest, we outnumber you."
Death only ignored his bother once more and focused on Fury.
"He just had one of his ideas that sound great in his head until he actually tries it and gets flak from the charred council for it or burns his figners.
Nothing special." Fury stated unconcerned with Strifes antics behind her back.
"I leave you alone for twenty minutes and that is what you come up with." Death observed with a disappointed scowl.
Strife shrugged and poked out his tongue in protest.
"We were all alone without our daddy and got bored. What gives, at last we didn't burn the place down."
Vulgrim ignored the last comment and raised a finger.
"I for one would certainly be interested in selling those com..."
Death brought him to silence with a simple look.
"Don't give him any ideas." He ordered, and the merchant was fast to step back into the shadows.
"Did you find out where the demon is hiding?" War cut straight through the chatter and to the case.
"The details I got form the unconscious thug in the hospital were enough to determine that he is in an old warehouse not far from a busy hotel block.
Vulgrim was wise enough to bring up a city map and we could pinpoint it. He even got his hands on a copy of the building plans."
"We are at two thousand eight hundred in soul energy by now." The demon commented with a sly smile towards Strife who simply shrugged like he didn't care.
"Im ain't paying all of that foshua."
"We all pay a part." Death made clear with a voice that didn't leave room for any negotiations and continued.
"Either way, form what I gathered in the hospital is that our little demon called Jacob is assembling a small army in that building and digging himself in. War observed
that his men were trying to sell weapons to another group of criminals, so if he got some to spare he is probably well equipped by now.
Maybe he is actually expecting a heavenly purging squad and wants to feed them cannon fodder, or he is planning something else alongside the part with the bomb
our friend here so casually sold to him along with the weapons."
Death gave Vulgrim a look, who in turn moved up his hands in defence.
"I figured he could have bought form someone else if he really needed it anyway. And I did warn you." He spoke up.
"Yea, and you thought you get some of his good cash while at it. Money dear boy right?"
Despite Strife sounding like he was mocking him his face was devoid of any animosity.
Probably because he knew he had done similar things before.
"We are going to attack the warehouse tonight." Death continued. Before he knows what hit him and he has a chance to react or escape. We just have to decide on
the how and formulate some form of plan before we embark since Vulgrim might be able provide us with weapons and equipment. Any questions so far?"
Strife flipped a finger.
"Any of the two? Then I want a drone and a tank." He demanded with his head held high and ignoring the tiered eyes of his oldest brother.
"What, he got one thousand more soul energy than before." He defended himself when Fury turned around to give him a similar look. "Hey, if you calculate the
exchange rate with human paper money you prob get far more than it costs to buy a small tank."
"However right you may or may not be is irrelevant." Vulgrim cut in.
"The laws of this country already make it difficult enough to buy and sell weapons effectively, getting my hands on a tank in this part of the earth is nearly impossible
and even more impossible to drive it around without someone noticing and calling the law enforcement."
He pointed out.
"Well fuck them, I have a tank," Strife didn't seem to care.
"They would call upon the military for assistance. I am sorry, if we were in a country more to the east or west I might be able to call in some favours.
But unless we are to meet again in a Warzone or a country with laxer and more business friendly law enforcement there is nothing I can do for you at the moment."
Vulgrim apologized.
"So what about the drone then?" Strife asked slightly miffed.
"I see what I can do..." the demon made amends as Death opened the wooden crate audible and pulled out a roll of paper.
"In there is our equipment so far and here is the plan of the building."
He pointed out and put the plan on the table besides War ready to do business.
"We have one main door, a garage and a back door. I have a rough plan but the following problems.
Let's work this out shall we?"
"You have what?" Sören asked a second time as he leaned down to Bjarne and his laptop.
"I might have a trail to where we might find the guy and the woman that were involved in the shoot out in the cafe this morning." The young officer repeated a bit
uncertain.
"You see, I checked the address of the nurse you questioned and estimated the time from when she said the man left her and the time witnesses said the duo arrived
at the coffee.
I was able to narrow down which roads they probably must have taken based on that and looked if our colleagues from the traffic department had anything to report
in those roads and at the time.
I found a few things, but one that poked out was the one where..."
"Bjarne, is there a shorter version of this?" Sören asked.
The young man nodded diligent.
"I found video records of the duo and their car on a red light. And an half an hour ago I got news from the traffic department that they had a report in which the same
car with the same traffic license had been parked wrong.
I think I should have managed to get the right location by now and maybe we find the duo together with the other two from the hospital in the area?"
Sören nodded to Felix and Sophie with pride.
"That is one good trail Bjarne. I wouldn't count on anything, but it is so far the only real trail we have on both cases, so we go check up on it."
The older officer put on his jacket and his colleagues did the same.
"You stay here, and keep your eyes open." Sören said when Bjarne was about to get up.
"If this leads to something I might pay you a round." Felix said as he left.
Sophie gave the younger man a thumps up, maybe now they would be able to find some closure about what had happened today.
Or what in hell was going on to begin with.
"Hm... and he attacked you?" The deep voice asked from the other side of the mobile phone.
"Yes, he ran after me like a madman! I have never seen a man go that fast!" the second voice was certainly less calm.
"With white hair and a giant, that's all that I saw. I was too busy running to recall the rest."
"Was he as big as me?" the deep voice asked.
The second man was slightly bewildered by that question but still answered.
"Yea, probably..."
"And he was alone?
"As far as I could tell yea."
"Good, he should be no problem.
Come back when you can. We might advance our timetable."
The demon in human disguise ended the call and leaned back in his chair.
Normally angels weren't so stupid to try and keep their hair colour in human disguise, but this one seemed all muscle and no brain.
If this was what the angelic enforcers where sending after him, his army would make quick work of him. That was if he even managed to find this hideout in the first
place.
There might be a few more out there, but if he managed to fulfil his plan at the right time he wouldn't really need to deal with them anyway.
No, he had planed everything in advance, there was no way they would see it before it was too late.
Even if they would send one of the horseman's themselves, he was sure he would be able to come out on top.
After all, if this personal mission was going to be a success there was no way the demonic hierarchy could ignore him any longer.
Hundreds would be dead before this year ended, and that was only the start.
Not even the creator could know how deep humanity would be plunged into death and misery.
As he chuckled to himself Jacob was sure, there would be no happy new year this time.
Author Note:
What can I say other than sorry this didn't see the light of day a lot sooner.
I also like to mention that I am no expert at the topic of comic books and similar, just to be safe.
On the other hand, I just like the idea that the world of Darksiders is a "all myths are true" kind of setting, which could be well used for background history or items,
armour, weapons and npcs ect imo.
Also, like before, every time I think I get closer to the end I realise that I probably need more chapters.
If somebody might be annoyed by only talking in this chapter the next chapter might end up the opposite if I do things right.
Sadly I can't promise I will be able to end it before this year ends thought. (gawddamit!)
Either way, Reviews are always welcome, and much thanks to the ones I got so far.