Planar Chaos: Armageddon (Patreon)

Apologies for the late update. I got sick this week and it affected my writing schedule more than I anticipated.

  

Planar Chaos: Armageddon

I sigh as the golden light washes over me, watching the threads of energy form a phantom replica of my form above me. Half a dozen Asgardian healers manipulate the image, slowly bringing it into sharper focus. The representation of my soul is bright, brighter than any other that I have seen in these examinations. 

“Fascinating as always,” Istrid, the chief healer—though ‘technician’ might be more apt—says. “If only we could unravel the secrets of this fire…” Her fingers gently caress a ball of effervescent light hovering in the center of my ‘chest’.

“My eyes are up here, doc,” I say. I grin at her affronted expression. Really this is all old hat now, the fourth time I’ve been examined by the Asgardians. Really Thor, did me a huge favor by lining this up. Being a prince still carries some weight here, even if he abdicated. It’s a shame he doesn’t visit more. 

“Yes, well.” Istrid turns her attention to another aspect of the projection, namely, the mess of connections in my brain.

The sweetest part of this whole deal, though, had to have been the look on Tony’s face when I told him that I’d gotten a better treatment option. Really, the guy’s like a dog with a bone, and my powers are his favorite chew toy. If I had a dollar for every new device Tony built to figure out there origin… Well, I still wouldn’t be as rich as my erstwhile mentor, but maybe I’d have as much money as Pepper.

“After further studying the impressions from the last examination,” Istrid continues, “we believe that the understanding we seek lies in the interaction between these two discrete sources of power.”

“Oh?”

Istrid tucks a strand of golden hair behind her ears as she deftly manipulates the diagram. I sigh. Everyone in Asgard is impossibly beautiful. Somehow I almost manage to forget it between visits. “Look here,” she says. I watch as the diagram begins shifting rapidly, and it takes me to a second to realize that she’s ‘rewinding’ my soul, so to speak.

“Last time, we discovered the dormant core of your magical powers,” she says, pointing to the silent ember now sitting in the projection’s chest. “At that point, as in its current state, it stands alone, connected only to your essence, but at the moment of ignition something most interesting happens.”

A memory of the funeral flashes across my eyes, before I push it aside for the moment. I’ll need to have another good cry later, but for now I need to focus.

“How did you get this data? I thought this device didn’t have retrocognition or anything like that.”

“The ‘soul’, as your people call it, is Eternal,” Istrid says. I can hear the capital letter in her voice. “While difficult, a skilled healer can trace the flow and ripples of life back to their origin.”

“Huh,” I say. “Sounds a bit like chaos theory, but I think I follow.”

Istrid smiles. “Another human likewise compared our magic to your nascent science. It is always a joy to watch the younger races develop.” I try to ignore implicit bias. The woman doesn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure. “Now watch. I believe we are close to uncovering the secret of these other powers.”

Slowly, the diagram of my soul begins to shift. The core in my chest stays dormant, before it starts to flicker in time with my heart. “Look,” Istrid says. The cable of connections attach to my brain shifts in matching time. “Whatever lies on the other end of this connection noticed as well.

Then the core blooms. It is like the petals of a flower when viewed like this. The folds stretch out to encompass every inch of my being and for a heartbeat they even meld with the thing in my brain. My soul flickers, splitting at the seems and—

I blink. “What in the nine realms was that?” I ask.

Istrid pauses the projection, rewinding it once more to the point of contact, where the entire diagram of my soul vibrates too quickly for even my enhanced eyes to follow.

“Some peculiar type of resonance,” she says. “A cursory second examination has confirmed our earlier findings, but some of the expected traces are missing, it is almost if…” she trails off as the ringing of bells pierces the air.

I sit up, shattering the projection. “What’s that?”

“The alarm…” she whispers. “An intruder has gained the Bifrost, this has not happened since the Dark Elves—”

And that’s all I need to hear. “Where is Thor?” I ask, swinging out of the cradle.

“He and Prince Loki have not yet returned from Midgard.”

“Unfortunate.” I leave the room without another word, ignoring the instructions of the other healers to remain. From there, it’s easy enough to find the nearest guard patrol from the sound of metal grieves hitting the stone floor. 

With a pulse of my will, a copy of my armor flickers into being around me, another summons a replica of my weapon. I left the originals back at Stark tower, didn’t think I’d need them in Asgard of all places, but with my magic, I was never really unarmed. I twirl my bladestaff. The metalsmiths on Remnant really are top notch. Unfortunately, I never figured out the trick to summoning more ammunition for it, so it will only serve as a melee weapon, but I have more than enough ordinance on my suit. 

With a tap of the data crystal on my neck, Snark loads into the matrixes of my suit. I grin as the interfaces spring to life.

“Another paint suit, huh?” Snark says as I activate my thrusters and leap from the palace. He easily vectors me towards to main courtyard, where the mass of guardsmen gather. “You really know how to treat a guy.”

“Like you can tell the difference,” I shoot back.

I land next to the Asgardians, and one of the warriors three, forgot his name but oh well, nods to me. “Lady Destiny,” he says. “You are here to aid with the defence?”

I nod, my helm pulling back to show my grin. “They’ll regret ever setting foot on this plane.”

He nods, a look of grim determination on his face. With a wave of his hands, the guards form a shield wall. I take my rightful place as Overwatch hovering over the entire formation as we wait for the intruders.

“Tall dark and sexy at twelve o’clock,” Snark says, highlighting the approaching figure. “Think that’s our baddy?”

“It would be a nice change of pace,” I say, sliding my helmet back into place. “Usually it’s just ugly old men in military uniforms.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind the catsuit either,” Snark says. I roll my eyes. “Shall I save some pictures?”

“Maybe after we send her running.”

“Hate to see her go, love to watch her leave.”

I laugh. “You and Tony are a terrible influence on me.”

“I’m not hearing a no. Are you hearing a no?”

“How the mighty have fallen!” the approaching woman calls. Now that she’s closer, I can make out her features more clearly. She has that Asgardian agelessness, and… is she growing younger as she walks? I have Snark compare frames and there’s no question, with each step towards the courtyard she looks progressively less tired.

“A Midgardian?” She gestures towards me. “Do the proud and mighty warriors of Asgard now beg the lesser races for protection?” Her laugh sends shivers down my spine as it echoes off the stone walls.

Thor’s buddy is having none of it. “Surrender now, or die,” he says. With a flick of his wrist, his mace extends, spikes jutting out of the formerly smooth metal sphere.

The woman frowns. Somehow, she makes even that seem like an indolent gesture. “That’s no way to address your Queen,” she says. “I believe the proper response is to kneel. Now.”

“I will not bend knee to you,” he replies.

“A pity,” she says. “The mongrel first then.”

My thrusters engage before she even finishes speaking. A blade tears through the air, scraping past my pauldron.

With a battle cry, the Asgardians charge. 

My eyes widen as the woman doesn’t even take a step forward. Instead, as she pulls a helm of thorns from thin air to cover her face, a wall of blades checks the guards’ advance. They fall like hail, and while the first wave doesn’t break the shield wall, they unbalance the first row of soldiers.

Blood flashed through the air as the second wave of steel crashes down upon the Asgardians. 

She’s already forgotten about me, by the looks of it, simply content to walk forwards as more and more men fall under the downpour of swords. 

As I watch, though, something begins to tickle at the back of my thoughts. This… this is magic. I can feel that in my bones. My mystical senses are untrained, but seeing the exact same feat of sorcery performed in front of me so many times…

It’s enough for me to figure out the trick, I think.

In a few more steps she’ll break the shield wall, and then it will be over for the Asgardians.

“We going, or should I just break out the popcorn?” Snark says.

I cut power to my thrusters. 

With the wave of my hand, a dozen silver swords shoot down towards her. The woman looks up, and I can see the shock flashing through her eyes. 

Darker blades race up to meet my onslaught, but I’m not one shot wonder. Blades meet, and the air is filled with the screech of steel on steel. I laugh, flying towards her now, as I stalemate her attack. 

With a twist, the spiked end of my staff fires out with the chattering of chain links. It weaves through the storm of steel, even as my lasers divert the last few blades. 

Her hands come up, but too little too late.

Somber Thorn slams through her chest, and I follow a second behind. My steel clad boot drives the woman to one knee, and in a second, a score of Asgardian spears join mine in turning the invader into a modern art piece.

“Now,” I say as black ichor drips down onto the flag stones. “What was that about kneeling?”

The woman looks up at me eyes wide and crazed and how is she even still alive and—

I crash into the wall of a building with enough force to crack the stone. My display flickers once, before recovering. The thrusters sputter, but it’s enough to check my fall to the ground. As I watch, the woman breaks the shield wall with ease, wounds almost before they can form.

And her gaze is locked on me, hungry eyes devouring my armored form.

“Okay, shortstack,” Snark says. “I think you may have pissed her off with the taunting.”