Trailers

[johandenerad]

"On-screen."

The pause hangs in the air like static electricity. Little lights blink warning red into the bridges' silence. The crew are statues, transfixed.

"Report."

Nothing.

"Report!"

Someone jerks into life, their workstation beeping and clicking busily.

"An... an anomaly, sir. Scanners are getting... nothing."

"Nothing?"

The crewman knows that wasn't the right answer, but just try and tell his machine that.

"Yes, sir, nothin- no wait... there's something. QED signature, very faint... growing fast... too fast... negative? That can't be right..." he up looks at the viewscreen, sweating.

The penny drops like it was fired from some kind of accelerator. The bridge explodes into activity.

"Get us turned around! Arrange shield power to face the anomaly at all times! Once we're facing away, full wa-"

The captain is thrown to the floor as the bridge shakes. The desperate crew struggle with their respective stations, urging the ship into action.

The crewman who first spoke is still. Being more intelligent and well read than the others, he simply awaits his fate. He stares at the viewscreen, wondering.

"It's a Pl-" he says, almost to himself, as the bridge actually explodes.

[johandenerad]

A tank of bubbling, kaleidoscopic colour. Inside is suspended a figure, a dark man-shaped spot in the brilliance.

“Will it work?”

“It has to.”

“They will arrive soon.”

“Ha! Stop pretending like you didn’t read that off the display.”

The first voice is old, tired. The second can barely contain its owner’s excitement.

“I must admit, I do not understand your motivation.”

“Man like you? I’m surprised.”

“No… beyond that. Beyond your nature. You were human before, weren’t you?”

If the second voice had eyes, they would mist over in distant contemplation.

“Different place, different time.” it says. There is a pause.

“But it’s your blood.” says the first.

Another pause.

“This man is our last hope.” says the second.

Silence. Then some more, expectant silence.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

[johandenerad]

Neutrarod. It was a stupid idea, really. He saw clearly now. A whole population, a race, killed by two men. He almost laughed as he corrected himself. By one man and something else.

The device carried him from the ruined planet to Earth in less than a millionth of a microsecond. The room around him is vast, cavernous, in a smooth and tasteful shade of blue. He walks to the giant platinum and diamond engine in the centre. It shouldn't have to be so big, he thought. It shouldn't have to hum softly, pregnant with menace.

Such are the necessities of power. Soon he would remake the world, and he could do away with them.

A large, rapid change. He could feel it through the device. Oh, what was that multicoloured maniac up to now? He'd already painted all Metropolis red, and that had ended badly. Sighing, he wished he had some more... high-rent characters as henchmen, but conversion was taking longer than expected.

Raider, what are you doing? He neglected normal channels, ripping directly into his vassal's mind. A wave of fear and guilt came back.

Return the Statue of Liberty to its original colour, then come back to W-S Enterprises. You are no longer on active duty. He felt a slight resistance in his target's mind, a desire to remain. He erased it.

It would not be for much longer, he kept telling himself. Soon, the madness would be over. Soon, it would all be his.

[johandenerad]

The man stood in the corridor. It was full of doors, stretching to infinity in either direction.

He searched for the source of his exile, for he recognised where he was. It was not the Source. He could not understand why or how he was here.

It came as a surprise to him that he understood how to return. Or it would have done, if he could admit the choice to himself. But he saw no choice. There was never choice.

But then, he was here, which was impossible, and he couldn't see through time, which was impossible. If someone or thing could rob him of those abilities, maybe there was choice.

No. He would find his way back. The laws of physics would see to that.

First, he must discover how this corridor was expanded to connect every single one...

[johandenerad]

The shape hung in the centre of all things. The centre of all things to come. In a sense.

It was huge. It was, inevitably, a sphere. It had a hemispherical indent from which a weapon of catastrophic power could be unleashed. It was, on closer inspection, not a moon.

The man within lamented the lack of women in these stories. Believable women, at any rate. No doubt it was a symptom of sky-god monotheism and its interminable fear of everything feminine. How he would enjoy the end of that paradigm! Enjoyment as a good, honest, materialist feeling, none of this mystic poppycock. The beginning and the middle were over. The whole sodding story, almost over.

The god within watched the man, laughing unnoticed. It was odd how many humans reacted to mystery. The thick lid of uncertainty wrapped around the eye of the soul, preventing perception of the light of faith. It would come as further surprise to these humans then, that if they opened their soul-eyes, they'd be staring into darkness. In this basement of the blind, whoever turned the lights out was a real bastard.

The god was from a place where metaphors were real, so this actually made sense to him. He sighed and left the mad scientist to his equations, scrawled across every smooth surface in the bridge like they mattered. He knew magic when he saw it.

The man was right about one thing, thought the god. It was almost over.

[johandenerad]

Here there is only fire. Giants of magma and scorched air toil in fields of coal; molten serpents bite flowing minerals into unwary travellers.

A heart of liquid flame shoots into the blackened sky. It communes with the god, who is afraid.

All is in place.

"Yes."

You are certain it only wants money.

"Yes. A certain amount of revenge, also. I'm not sure it's entirely sane."

And the other...

"Its desires are concordant with our own."

The god's veins fill with boiling iron. He screams.

No, flar draugr.

"I'm sorry, I misspoke." the god says through clenched teeth.

Yes. Go now.

The gods screams reach a crescendo as he immolates, sent presumably wherever the heart of flame wants him to be. The world of fire burns white-hot.

Ragnarok is here.