Battle for Midgard

Series: Omega Initiative: 20 Years Later

The rain came down in torrents, soaking the city below. The streets of New York City were unusually quiet. No cars on the road and no people walking along the normally congested sidewalks. Those who could not find shelter hid in the back alleys, hoping for sanctuary. A flash of lightning lit up the night sky followed by a thunderclap that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth itself.

Standing in the middle of the Washington Bridge stood 6 beings. Four of the beings stood tall, unaffected by the weather that assailed the group. The leader of the group, clad in red smirked at the two people standing before him. “This is all what Midgard has to offer as its last line of defence?” His voice boomed, rivaling the thunderclap that had just occurred moments before.

The young man spoke up, trying to suppress the fear in his voice. “The others are trying to stop the chaos you and your Riders have brought forth,” the young man said.

“Do you not see Morgan the Gypsy? The seals have opened,” laughed the man in red. “Your allies are nothing more than a minor distraction in the scheme.” Two of the others laughed heartily while the fourth one remained silent. “We riders have been around since before the creation of Midgard. We are the ones who decides which realm gets to go on, and which one get to die.”

“So who made you guys in charge,” sniped the girl standing behind her friend as she removed the dark green strands of hair from from her face. Her violet eyes bore holes into the men standing before her. “Last time I checked it was up to the Edenborn to decide when it was time to end the world.”

The man in red snarled. “Tell me, daughter of Yasmina the prodigal whore, what have the Edenborn done to ensure this realm stays alive? What have they done to ward us off? They have done nothing. In the past century alone, Midgard has born witness to wars ripping across the realm multiple times, Men ordering the slaughter of millions for reasons such as purity and progress, the creation of weaponry that brought the world to the brink of annihilation. Humanity is a disgusting aberration and the Edenborn have failed!”

“I have a goddamn name you ass. I may possess the soul of Yasmina, but I am not her. I am my own person. My name is Jasmine Lewis you prick.”

Three of the riders laughed while the last one simply spoke.

Jasmine’s cheeks flushed and tried to focus on the question asked by Death and not the insults. “The Edenborn has failed humanity on several points,” Morgan spoke up. “ The fact that they did nothing...no could do nothing, while my fellow Gypsies were slaughtered back in the 1940’s still makes me mad. But I will not ever decry all of humanity for those acts. Humanity has left the confines of Earth and seen it from the heavens. Humans have walked on the surface of the Moon for godsakes. We have sent objects beyond our solar system. Humans have also conquered diseases that were once the bane of their existence and fed the poor. You see humanity for it’s flaws, I see it for its triumphs.”

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky followed by another loud thunderclap. The rain continued to pour down as the two groups faced off against each other. “Your words are carry some weight, Morgan of the Gypsies, but the Riders are not swayed by words alone. You yourself belong to a group ostracized by the children of Qayin and Heḇel, yet you would fight to defend them? I ask why.”

“Because of her,” he said pointing to his friend. “Jasmine has been my friend for years. She does not care I am a Gypsy of Sethos nor do I care about her background. We found a common ground. She is my closest friend and I would be willing to fight to the ends of time for her.”

Jasmine smiled at Morgan’s proclamation before facing the Riders. They all eyed her menacingly and she tried to read what they would do. Would they try and hold her to see if Morgan's words spoke true.

The leader of the group nodded at the words. “Your words seem genuine, but do your actions convey the truth?” Raising a hand, he aimed a spell at the young woman and launched a magical bolt in her direction.

Thinking fast, Morgan teleported in front of Jasmine and took the hit. The blast of magic slammed into Morgan and threw him back several meters before landing with a heavy crunch on the ground. Getting up, Morgan coughed and checked the front of his shirt to find a hole blown through it, burning his flesh. The falling rain stung the injury, but Morgan laughed it off. “Is that all you got Rider of War? I’ve experienced better injuries from weaker assholes. Glaring at the four, Morgan placed his gloved hand against the injury and healed the wound. “You call me Morgan of the Gypsies, but do you know who I truly am? I am Morgan d’la Vie, Investigator of the Occult. I have been to the sunken cities of Rylah and researched the writings of Ala il Badanon, the mad mage of the Qayin. I’ve walked through the sunken gardens of ancient Akkadian cities and read beautiful poetry from the scholars of Heḇel that has been lost to time .” As Morgan spoke, the rain that fell around him seemed to slow down. A power began to surge through the young man as he slowly walked towards the red Rider. Another bolt of lightning ripped across the sky and its light shone down on Morgan. His violet eyes shifted to red as the wind picked up around him.

“I have held artifacts of the ancient past, learning its secrets. I have walked on the surface of the moon taking in the beauty of this blue planet,” Morgan said forcefully as he marched forward. Each step he made left an imprint in the pavement. The Riders who have been amused by his prior antics became somewhat afraid.

“Should we do something War?” asked the white Rider. Morgan’s sudden change unnerved him and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Calm yourself Pestilence,” spoke the last Rider. “He is just an Edenborn, we are the Riders.”

Before the leader could speak, Morgan erupted with energy. “Earth is my home. I will not allow you to destroy it any longer. I give you one chance to leave now, or else I will show you what a simple Gypsy can do!” The young man roared as magical energy coursed through his body.

War’s grin faded and twisted into a scowl as he summoned a large sword in his hand. The blade was simple in design. Like the wielder, the blade was a dark red in colour with lighter red metal at the crossguard and pommel. “Then prove to me your resolve.”

Morgan let loose a volley or arcane charged blasts of energy at his foe. Bringing his blade up, War deflected most of the attacks that were sent his way. The volley of blasts exploded behind the Rider tearing chunks off the bridge. As retaliation, War teleported to Morgan’s side and arched his sword towards the young man. Instinctively he brought his arm up to defend block the attack. The sword connected with the arm and the impact sent shockwaves.

“Most impressive,” smiled War as he swung again at Morgan.

Morgan caught the blade  and felt the sharp edge cut into his skin. His attacker was stronger then him and Morgan knew he had only a moment to retaliate. Pushing the blade to the side, the young Gypsy kicked the Rider in the ribs. The kick sent War stumbling back before catching his footing on the rain-slick road. Morgan proceeded to rush his foe and grabbed him by the waist. Gathering all his strength, he lifted the Rider up above his head before slamming him down onto the pavement.

“Bringing Martial Arts to a fight?,” War laughed as he got to his feet. “How humourous Gypsy boy. This isn’t some game or cartoon. You are battling for the sake of Midgard and the best you can do is martial arts? I am the Rider of War. I am a master of warfare. The fact you resort to these pathetic punches and kicks both angers and amuses me.”

Morgan ignored the catcalls and began focusing on a spell. Tracing a circle in mid air, he spoke some ancient words as runes appeared. Cables from the bridge snapped and wrapped around War. “What’s this now?” the Rider asked as the cables tightened around him.

“It’s Magic!” Morgan replied as he moved his fingers guiding the cables. The Rider was suddenly jerked sideways and then slammed into one of the bridge supports before being repeatedly slammed into the pavement.  Morgan finished off the assault by tossing the Rider several meters into the air and calling down a bolt of lightning.

War struck the ground hard after being struck by the bolt of lightning. He got to his feet slowly wiped the the debris from his clothes. “Impressive use of magic Gypsy boy,” sneered the warrior as his longsword shifted into a warhammer. Grabbing his long red coat, War ripped it off his chest, exposing his highly muscular bronze torso. Stretching the muscles in his arms, the sound of his bones popping echoed across the bridge and War began to slowly march towards Morgan.

Morgan retaliated by using his magic to grab one of the cables and throwing it at the Rider. War grabbed the end and effortlessly ripped the other end from the bridge. Flicking his wrist, he snapped the cable like a whip and sent the other end flying towards Morgan. The cable connected and sent him flying back, landing on the pavement. Throwing the makeshift whip aside, War gripped his weapon with both hands and brought the heavy black head of the warhammer down onto the bridge.  The force of the impact caused the ground to ripple, sending debris flying all around. Morgan himself was sent sprawling through the air, trying to re-orient himself. He began to cast a spell that would allow him to land safely, but War had teleported to his side and brought the hammer down onto his back, launching the young gypsy into the ground. The force of the impact damaged the landing area and caused the area Morgan had landed on to collapse, sending the young man into the churning waters below.

War landed onto the warped bridge with a smug grin. The heavy rain bounced off his bronze body as he turned to face Jasmine. “Your friend is dead,” he smiled. “I would say he put up a good fight, but that would be a lie.”

“Do you know what my original purpose was War?” asked Jasmine coldly, her eyes burning as she fought back her tears. “I was ripped from my family as a newborn and raised by a cult dedicated to Qayin and bringing about his return. I was to lead them as we were to purge the land of the followers of Hebel and to build an empire to Qayin.”

War rolled his eyes and sighed. “What is with you mortals and expositing your life story before dying? We don’t care as it means nothing in the scheme of things.”

Jasmine’s eyes flashed red as she continued to speak. “Those who raised me forced me to undergo hundreds of rituals to draw out my latent power. On my 8th birthday they tattooed ancient rituals on my skin. When I turned sixteen, instead of a party with friends, I was dropped off in the middle of the sunken city of R’lyeh and had to survive and learn its dark secrets.” As she spoke, the tattoo’s that Jasmine spoke of began to appear on her skin. Like her eyes, they too began to glow red. “When I turned eighteen, I finally fought back and for that, they banished me to the Realm Beyond Mortal Reach.”

This fact surprised War and the other Rider’s. “A mortal being sent there and surviving? How?” He demanded.

“Heimdall,” answered Jasmine with a smug grin. “The portal ejected me near the Bifrost, and Heimdall rescued me. I could go into a more detailed explanation of why, but I don’t wish to bore you with the details.”

“Yet you give us your life story when no one asked,” Pestilence snarked. Jasmine responded to the comment by launching her own magical blast at the Rider. The blast sent both him and his vehicle flying back several meters before hitting the bridge. The white rider landed with a hard thud  and his bike landed beside him, completely destroying it from the force of the spell and the impact of the landing. “Aww man, I just finished washing that.”

“Should have kept it repaired and not just made it look shiny,” Death spoke. “If all it took was a mortal’s attack to damage your bike, then you have neglected your duties on maintenance.”

“Well it was a really hard hit,” whined Pestilence as he stood up and wiped the grime from his clothing. The Rider began to walk back towards his allies when a pillar of light began to surround him from the ground up.

The pillar of light exploded upwards and sent Death flying back again and Morgan stepped through the smoke and debris. His face was bloodied and bruised, one of his eyes swollen shut from smashing into the ground face first and his clothing was in tatters. “I...am....am not dead yet,” he spoke weakly as he walked towards his enemy.

War looked at Morgan with genuine surprise. “I always knew you mortals were a tenacious bunch, but to survive an attack of that magnitude is truly commendable.”

“Back in the forties, my grandparents were ripped from their home and sent to Buchenwald,” gasped Morgan as pain ripped through his body. “Back in the late 1800’s i had family flee from the Russian Pogroms. I come from a family of survivors. This is nothing compared to what they have gone through!”  spoke Morgan. Holding his arm out, electrical energy exploded from his fingers and raced towards War. At the last moment, he batted the spell away with his weapon. The electric spell flew skywards and burst outward, momentarily illuminating the  battle on the bridge.

“You missed,” he sneered as he walked over to the weakened gypsy. Gripping the warhammer in his hand, he raised it above his head as the storm raged around them. “Time for you to die.”

The Rider brought down the heavy weapon, but was stopped by Morgan who had grabbed the Warhammer. “I said, I will...not...fall...to...YOU!” The young man ripped the weapon away from War and with his free hand he launched a second spell into the Rider’s chest, sending him flying back.

The two of the other Riders started to approach War, but Jasmine immediately teleported in front of them. “Nuh uh, you jackasses aren’t going anywhere. We are gonna keep out of this little fight okay? Otherwise I will put you in place. Got it?”

The white and black clad riders looked at each other and laughed. “Listen here you living phylactery, while Famine and I may not be as strong as War himself, we are still Riders, and it would take more than a couple of prodigies to stop us,” Pestilence boasted while his black dressed comrade looked on and grinned. “It would take the combined forces of Samael and Afjaa and their celestial hosts to stop us.” Pestilence laughed as a crystal, skull shaped flask materialized into his hand. “I am Pestilence,Rider of Disease and Decay. Wherever I roam, I leave a trail of sick mortals, barely clinging to life. Do not challenge me child!”

His black garbed cohort smiled and in his hand appeared a large black scythe. “I am Famine, Rider of Hunger. My scythe cuts a swath through the farmlands of this realm, destroying the crops,” he boasted.

“Death, wish to join us?” Asked Pestilence as the lightning flashed all around him. The sickly green rider simply shook his head and stood at the back. “Be that way old man.” The rider of disease scowled.

Turning his attention towards Jasmine, Pestilence attacked by throwing one of the conjured flasks towards  Jasmine, who quickly avoided being attacked. The bottle shattered filling the air with a noxious odour. “By breathing in the fumes, you will be the first to submit to the plague,” he laughed.

Jasmine snapped her fingers at the puddle and it coalesced into basketball sized sphere. Using a second spell, she transformed the plague ball into a ball of pure magical energy and launched it back at Pestilence. The spell hit him in the face knocking him to the ground. “When you are on Midgard, you are bound by our laws,” Jasmine spoke as she cast another spell and launched it at the white Rider. “In the Realm Above, your power is nearly limitless, but you chose to come here, weakening yourselves.”

“Shut your mouth woman,” growled Pestilence as he conjured two more bottles and flung them at Jasmine. The woman grabbed them in mid air and transformed the flasks into magical energy and flung them back, smacking Pestilence in the face. “Stop transmuting my plague bombs you BITCH!” He shrieked.

Jasmine smiled and could tell that her foe was getting angry. “Not used to actual fighting are you?” She mocked cruelly. Pestilence responded by flinging several more flasks at her which she caught effortlessly before destroying them. “You work from the shadows. You don’t directly attack, but weaken people. You work alongside Famine.”

“Of course we work together.” responded Famine as he leapt forward, swinging his curved blade. It struck Jasmine, slicing her shirt and cutting her chest. The wicked blade tore her flesh open. “Wherever Famine occurs, Disease often follows in its wake.”

Famine swung again but Jasmine narrowly dodged the blade. Her wound stung badly and she felt a gnawing pain in her stomach. “Christ I just realized I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday morning,” she thought  aimlessly as she dodged Famine’s attacks. “God what I wouldn’t give for a sandwich from Sal’s.” Famine swung again and the tip of the blade connected with Jasmine’s shoulder. The blade tore downwards and Jasmine screamed out in pain. Jasmine fell to her knees, gripping her shoulder.

“You’re becoming sloppy child,” chided Famine as he grinned as he held the sharp blade at Jasmine’s throat. “What’s wrong girl? Feeling hungry?”

Jasmine panted and shot her adversary a venomous glare. This was unlike her, to become so sloppy in a fight. Her time with the cultists had sharpened her mental faculties to be at their peak. Famine was not a physical fighter, unlike War and even while dealing with his cohort, she shouldn’t be this out matched. Her thoughts soon turned to food again and her stomach gnawed. Then it hit her.

Famine raised his scythe over his head to ready the death blow. “Time for you to be cut down like the crops fields of Babylon. The rider swung his weapon but Jasmine teleported away before reappearing beside Pestilence. She then brought her fist to the face of the white Rider and sent him sprawling to the ground. He responded by flinging another one of his flasks at her but this one was caught by Jasmine.

“Thank you,” she said, grinning towards her Pestilence. The liquid shifted colours from the foul milky white to a honey brown colour. Jasmine removed the cork from the flask and took a drink from it. Once the flask was empty, she threw it to the side, comically smacking Famine in the face. “Not as good as one of Sal’s Pizza Subs, but it’ll do,” she grinned. Her wounds did not close, but her hunger was satiated for the time being.

“W-W-What the hell?’ stammered Pestilence as he took an uneasy step back. “You consumed my plague. You should be dead!”

“When I was stuck in R’lyeh, I had to fend for myself,” spoke Jasmine as she channelled her magics to surround Pestilence. “I quickly learned that old, rotted, hide boots, when properly transmuted can become a nice piece of lamb or beef,” she continued. Snapping her fingers, chunks of pavement erupted into spikes, skewering the white rider. “And your plague potions are nothing special. They too are bound by mortal law.”

As Jasmine fought Famine and Pestilence, a weary Morgan continued to endure War’s brutal assault. When the titanic weapon was swung, Morgan would duck out of the way and try to use his magic to trip up the rider. Raising his hands up into the sky, Morgan quickly dropped his arms bringing down a large lightning bolt that shook the bridge and blasted War through the pavement into the churning waters below. Spreading his arms wide Morgan chanted in an ancient language and the winds began to pick up. War flew upwards from the hole and swung his weapon again. The heavy head of the warhammer struck the young gypsy in the chest, crushing the ribs and sent him falling to the ground. Morgan landed with a thud and blood flowed from his mouth. He got to his feet weakly and glared at War who hovered above him. His violet eyes glared at the rider. “I...I am not through with you yet you cosmic fuck.”

Finally Death spoke loudly. “Enough! War, Famine, Pestilence, we are leaving Midgard.” The three riders looked at the their aged leader and without a single word of opposition, they slowly approached Death. Knowing what was next, Pestilence made some minor repairs to his motor bike. “These two have showcased there is still a light in this world.”

“Wait…” Morgan spoke. “This...this was a test for humanity?”

Death turned to face the young gypsy, his hollow eyes staring deep into Morgan. “No. With everything going on in this world, Midgard was to be culled and begin anew. However, in between your actions here, and the actions of the leaders of this world, it has shown that there is still a flicker of hope. Although small now, it can grow and change humanity.”

“Let me guess...” began Jasmine “It’s up to us to spread peace and love yadda yadda. Save the sermon. It’s not a new concept.”

Death chuckled and simply stared at the two. “It will take more than two souls to mend the wounds of this world...but you can help them.” He turned away from the two and mounted his motorcycle. “Riders, mount up. We are off.” He commanded. War, Famine and Pestilence got on their bikes and followed their leader as they rode off into sky.

The two simply stared off into the distance, trying to absorb all that had happened. A couple minutes later, Jasmine noticed that their battlefield was still a wreck. “I am not sure how much magic power I have left. Famine’s weapon really did a number on me and transmuting Pestilence's little bombs drained me far more than I’d care to admit.”

Morgan simply nodded. “I’m sure If we combine our magics, we can repair the major damage.” He looked over to his friend and smiled. “Then we can go back to my place to patch ourselves up. Maybe grab a pizza and watch a movie

Jasmine simply chuckled. “You really think YouTube is working right now?”

“Probably not, but I still got my Betamax player working,” smiled Morgan as he readied his spell. Jasmine simply laughed and raised her hand alongside her friend to fix their battleground. Once they finished, Morgan teleported them back to his home.