Rain pattered against Yareli's helmet as she crept through the underbrush. She froze, unmoving, as a heavyset man passed by. Under his shades, the dark-suited man scanned his surroundings, eyes peeled for intruders. Pleased at discovering no one, he continued forward, maintaining his constant vigilance. Yareli waited for several beats before sneaking forward.
While Yareli had the power to break in unimpeded, she preferred stealth and cunning over such brutish tactics. Rebecca's hacking program made quick work of the electronic lock guarding a side door, allowing Yareli to slip inside unnoticed.
Rebecca's name brought a black pit to her chest. The hacker girl had been reluctant to help her locate Simensen's residence. It'd been a subtle resistance, but it hadn't gone unnoticed. As she suspected, Rebecca had also been hiding something. Were all the Jotnar involved in Johan's deception?
The home stunk of wealth and power, yet also felt strangely aged. Not only the furniture and art pieces, but the building itself. It reminded Yareli of architecture she'd seen in movies from the 1970s. The furnishings seemed to match her theory. Had Simensen had the house moved from the mainland to Bifrost? What a ridiculous waste of money.
A light coming from a far room caught her attention. A strange sight, considering the hour. Hadn't Simensen gotten injured in the battle against Ymir? Why wasn't he asleep, resting? Sensing a trap, Yareli kept her steps light, ready to flee if any trouble reared its ugly head.
On its hinges, the door swung silently into a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, but Yareli noticed something. Unlike her father's study, where every book was well-used and referenced, these tomes seemed to exist because books were found in studies.
The house's owner was lounging on a sitting couch, reading from a tablet, scanning some social media sites. Yareli froze as the man spoke.
"Ah, so you've come to visit, Fenrir?" Simensen said, attention not rising from his tablet. Yareli froze as a gun pressed against the back of her helmet. Where the hell had he come from? Why hadn't her fighter's instincts sensed the bodyguard coming?
"Now, now. James, be nice to our guest," Simensen said, finally looking toward Yareli and putting aside his pad. "I've been eagerly awaiting this meeting for some time."
James relented, withdrawing his weapon. But he glowered at Yareli, making it obvious what would happen if she threatened his employer.
"How did you know I was coming?"
"I could taste it in the air," Simensen said, laughing at his own joke. "Besides, I figured you'd be around soon enough. You've always been impatient, impulsive."
"What now? Are you going to stick me in some lab?" Yareli eyed the bodyguard, James, sizing him up. Her instincts screamed the large man would be a formidable foe.
"No, though I won't deny that you fascinate me," Simensen replied. "A unique specimen unlike anything else on the planet. I'd rather be allies."
"No," Yareli answered automatically.
"No? I assure you I mean you no harm." Simensen wore an amiable smile on his handsome face. "We both oppose Ymir. I certainly don't desire Wilson's Ragnarök taking place any more than you do."
Yareli studied the man's features, getting the Ophion president's measure. She only found ambition, self-interest, and half-truths.
"Glad to hear it. Just don't get in my way, okay?"
"Stubborn, obstinate." Simensen gave a dramatic sigh. "You really are Valter Halvorsen's daughter. Don't be so quick to dismiss my offer. We can help each other. I can make you stronger. I have the resources."
"Like Johan's sword?" Yareli said, throwing out a random guess. Simensen's smile confirmed her worst suspicions.
"Exactly! We're rather proud of that piece of equipment."
Yareli simmered with rage, recalling the time she'd sensed Johan fiddling with her Ragnadriver when he'd assumed her too distracted by her painting. Yareli had presumed he'd only been curious about the device, too embarrassed to ask for permission. The reality was painful, forming a black pit in her heart. That's how Ophion had gotten their grubby hands on a Ragnadriver.
"I'm not interested," Yareli's tone conveyed a sense of finality. "I work alone."
"Shame." While disappointed, Simensen sounded unsurprised. "But the offer is always open. I'm not your enemy, Ilma. I have no objections to working with you against Ymir's tricks."
Not bothering to respond, Yareli pushed past several heavies, leaving the room. While displeased by her blatant disrespect, the guards allowed her to pass. The rain had finally ceased as she left Simensen's mansion. While the storm outside had ceased, inwardly, Yareli was a maelstrom of emotions. Her friends had been spying on her for Simensen. More impossible tears blinded her vision, and she slammed a fist against the alley's wall before slumping against it.
What did this mean? Were the Jotnar not really her friends? Had they deceived her to get close to her secrets? She desperately wanted to confront Johan with these questions. Yet, Yareli found herself paralyzed, too fearful of the answers.
"Damn, I need a drink." If she were a real girl, she'd get wasted and forget about her woes in blissful drunkenness. Unfortunately, nothing could dull the festering pain and loneliness consuming her from within. "I'm so pathetic."
"Ilma?"
Yareli jerked to attention and cursed herself for getting careless. Standing at the alley's edge was a Valkyrie dressed in her winged armor.
"What do you want?" Yareli readied her Uhyre key, prepared to fight her way free.
"I'm not here to fight." The Valkyrie lifted two placating hands, then removed her helmet. It was the taller one, Abbey.
"What do you want, then?" Yareli hadn't forgotten about Halvorsen's death squad or their many heated battles.
Abbey remained silent for several moments, eyeing Yareli with curiosity. And also sympathy?
"You look upset. Do you want someone to talk to?"
"Of course I'm upset! My whole life is beyond messed up. I just learned that my friends are working for that creep!" Yareli pointed an accusatory finger toward Simensen's manor. "And I can't believe I was naïve enough to assume regaining my memories would make me happy. It's only made things worse! Why am I even telling you this? You don't care!"
"That's rough," Abbey replied with surprising sympathy. The Valkyrie sat beside her in the dirty, ugly, vandalized alleyway. They sat in silence for several moments before Abbey finally spoke.
"It surprises me how human you are. You're a talking skeleton, yet very much a person. The doctor is wrong about you. You aren't a shell wearing his daughter's memories. You're the real deal."
"Fat good that does me." It surprised Yareli how comfortable she was getting around the Valkyrie. Was she that desperate for a sympathetic ear she'd turn to a mortal enemy?
"Let's get out of this dirty alley," Abbey said, standing up. "You may not have a nose, but this place smells like piss. There's a bar nearby with cool retro arcade games. It's a little noisy, but beats staying here."
"I know the place. Aren't you on the job here to kill me?"
"I'm only on surveillance duty." Abbey only offered a shrug. "That's what I'm doing now."
For a moment, Yareli considered the possibility it might be a trap. Trap or not, it was better than being alone, wallowing in self-pity. "Alright, I'll take you on that offer."
"I just realized that Ilma, the robot one, never spoke about her childhood. It never occurred to me, it might not exist," Abbey said as they exited the alley.
"I'm still stunned she's a robot. I can't believe Father tried to replace me with that thing." Yareli's voice held a great deal of derision toward her doppelgänger.
Abbey considered the statement for several long moments before shaking her head. "I'm not convinced that's true. I wonder if even the doctor knows why he created ID-01. But enough of that. Tell me about your high school days. Is it true you attended Odin Academy? That's one of the world's ritziest private schools!"
"Yeah, Father always wanted the best for me." If Yareli could roll her eyes, she would. "He refused to get it through his thick skull that I'm not the most academically inclined person in the world. I wanted to attend this cool art school in Germany, but no."
"You like art?" Abbey asked, genuinely curious.
"Love it. I'm an avid painter." As they headed toward the bar, Yareli found she liked this girl. Abbey was an excellent listener.
---
"Hydro Thunder!" an excitable voice shouted as Yareli passed. Other games cried for attention, creating a cacophony of noise that grated the ears. People yelled to be heard over the surrounding racket, adding to the general noisiness. A typical bar, in Yareli's opinion. As usual, her curious appearance drew people's attention. It wasn't hard to notice someone wearing a paint-stained bodysuit and a helmet indoors. But she ignored their stares, joining Abbey as they approached the bartender.
"A beer, please." The Valkyrie wore a leather jacket and tattered jeans, her hair braided behind her back. She'd deposited her armor in a nearby Ymir safehouse.
"You, miss?" the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow.
Yareli opened her mouth, but Abbey beat her to the punch. "Actually, make it two beers."
"Right away." The bartender retreated to dispense their drinks.
"I'm a skeleton. I can't drink anything." Despite her condition, Yareli still craved food, especially since she regained her memories. She was helpless to alleviate these cravings, however—stuck with eternal longing for something unobtainable.
"It's symbolic."
"Ah."
"When I fought in the MMA circuit, I'd always share a drink with my opponent after a fight. To show there weren't any hard feelings. It was just a gig, after all. And I enjoy chatting with my opponents. It disappointed me I couldn't repeat the ritual with you."
The bartender returned with two foaming mugs and slapped them on the counter. Abbey took a sip and nodded in approval. The person behind the counter eyed Yareli, wondering why she wasn't reaching for her order.
He continued giving the helmeted woman odd stares as Abbey waved him away. "You've always interested me. I was like, what's your deal? Why are you fighting so hard against Ymir? Why become a Kamen Rider? Justice? It didn't quite click with me."
"No, I was fighting to learn my identity. Can you imagine? Awaking with nothing in your head? Not knowing who you are? My only clue was my Uhyre Key."
"Tough, I imagine."
"My life is beyond screwed, but at least I solved my memory problem. Still, I can't believe my father thought it was a bright idea to create a robot duplicate of me! Who does that?"
"Crazy, right? Though it didn't surprise me that the other Ilma was actually a robot duplicate."
"Really?"
"Something about the doctor's relationship with the copy Ilma didn't gel with me. Like, they didn't feel like father and daughter, if that makes any sense. But you two—definitely father and daughter. It reminds me of my quarrels with my brother, Jamie."
"Is he also a skeleton?" Yareli asked, earning a hearty laugh from her companion.
"We seem to do nothing but fight. I only stole the Uhyre Key prototype to annoy him." Some youths, when they defy their parents, get regretful tattoos, date bad boys, or engage in other foolish youthful antics. Yareli, however, got turned into a skeleton.
"Ilma." Abbey paused, weighing her new words. "The doctor loves you—needs you. Give him time. I'm sure he'll come around."
"Right." But Yareli remained conflicted about allowing her father back into her life. The rage at his actions kept boiling to the surface, unbidden.
"Why am I getting life advice from an enemy?" Yareli thought.
"No way, it can't be her!" someone yelled, interrupting Yareli's brooding. The exclamation was fanatic, almost hysterical with joy. Yareli's eyes darted around to locate the source of the commotion.
"No way!" Abbey perked up, and a figure pushed through the crowd. The girl was wearing an elaborate cream-colored, tight-fitting dress, stylishly adorned with ribbons. Perched on her head was a jaunty hat that matched the color of her dress, though it only covered half of her head.
"Isn't that Reine, the idol?" Yareli said, baffled that such a famous person would visit a grubby dive bar like the Data Pirate's Den. Did she enjoy retro games? From the patrons' reactions, she doubted the idol visited the bar often.
"Shame Johan isn't here. He'd have a heart attack." She wasn't as thrilled to see the idol. Her music was okay, but it wasn't really her jam. She preferred metal. Besides, Reine was only a carefully disguised marketing tool.
People were crowding around, vying for the idol's attention. But Reine only seemed to notice Yareli. Unsurprisingly, she supposed. Even before her accident, she stood out in crowds.
"She's in the Valkyrie program." Abbey waved, encouraging Reine to come closer. "It's a publicity stunt, but she is still an honored member. She must have gotten my texts. I invited the other Valkyries to join us. Don't worry. It's only to go bar hopping. Besides, we only have a single working set of Valkyrie armor left between us."
Ah! That explains everything. Still, Yareli couldn't shake the feeling the idol was staring at her.
"You got here fast. I only sent the message five minutes ago." Abbey gestured to the chair next to her. "Sit down, order whatever you want. The first drink is on me."
"You saved me a lot of time searching for you." Was that contempt behind Reine's eyes? "This makes everything so much simpler."
"Sorry?" Yareli blinked and froze as the idol withdrew a weapon from her purse. The entire room went quiet.
"Sorry, Abbey, but I'm starting a fight despite your explicit orders not to," Reine said, wearing a devilish smile. "Fenrir and I have history."
Is that a Ragnadriver?!
"Reine, what are you doing?" Abbey kept her voice calm, trying to de-escalate the situation.
Without warning, Reine opened fire. While unprepared for the sudden attack, Yareli's instincts saved her from getting a hole burned through her chest. The bottles behind the bar exploded from the intense heat. A hole in the wall behind Yareli exposed a half-burning storeroom. People screamed as they scrambled to safety.
"Reine, what the hell are you doing?" Abbey said, scrambling to her feet.
"You're fast. Still, you're injured after your fight with the late president." Reine withdrew an Uhyre Key adorned with a skull. "You should be easy pickings, even if I'm still learning about my new powers. Henshin."
Late president? Another Kamen Rider? Yareli didn't know why the idol hated her, but she was prepared to fight. She strapped her Ragnadriver across her waist, Uhyre Key ready. "Henshin."
People scrambled toward the exits as the two combatants faced off. Reine allowed them to leave, not attacking until the room cleared. After a moment of hesitation, Abbey fled, useless without her armor.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," Reine said behind her half-skull mask. "Call me Kamen Rider Hel."
"What do you want? Why are you attacking me?"
"This is for Mallory. You killed her, remember?" Hel replied, making Yareli jerk in surprise.
Mallory? Yareli puzzled over the mystery. Did the girl say she grew up in an orphanage in France?
Wait, Reine? It couldn't be. Yes, the girl matched someone she'd seen in a photo Mallory carried around. Years had changed her, but the resemblance was obvious.
Fiery pain erupted in Yareli's chest as Hel opened fire, taking advantage of her musings. She dodged the next barrage, and the fire caused by Reine's previous shots spread further.
"Wait, it was an accident, Reine. I remember you. Mallory mentioned you once or twice."
"That's right. Though we weren't sisters by blood, she was still my family, regardless." A cruel smile appeared in Reine's voice. "I'm going to enjoy this. You stole the only thing in this hateable world I cared about."
Yareli's hand moved to unsheathe her weapon, but a swift shot from Hel blew it from her grip before she could bring it to bear. It slid across the room, out of reach behind a burning table.
"And only fire and death can make amends for it. Die."