Heaven And Hell

Meet the new King

John kept his foot against the limiter bolt behind the gas pedal of the BTR, looking for the lumbering figure of 682. The soldier with him kept his eyes on the sky and on the ground, terrified due to how far away from base they were.

"Anything?" John asked, having to yell over the roar of the motor.

"Nothing sir!" The soldier replied, ducking into the BTR to let him know before poking his head back out and getting on the gun again.

John cursed, something uncharacteristic of him, and ducked under the steering wheel, tearing out the limiter bolt that was behind the pedal, tired of the unnecessary limits of speed despite the BTR well more capable than what it was previously limited to.

He pulled his head back up and narrowly avoided a large rock that would have flipped the BTR, before slamming his foot into the pedal, and in extension the metal, and making the engine work ten times harder, and aside from the occasional misfire due to one of the pistons not being set right, it ran as easily as you moving a jammed finger. It hurts, but it's easy enough.

Day after day, night after night, the Einherjar soldier and John pushed the BTR to its limits, only stopping for fuel 3 times.

"Best thing about the apocalypse? Gas is free!" John laughed, looking for some humor to lighten the situation.

The Einherji soldier chuckled, cleaning the mounted gun and oiling the rotation track best he could with the limited supplies. "Fayre 'nough. I always 'ated 'ow 'spensive it was. 4 bucks a gallon? Yer joookin." The soldier's southern origins came through in a very thick accent, his laugh a low rumble. For uses of record keeping, this accent will be toned down for ease of reading.

John smirked and turned back to the gas, and realized that the hose was not jerking with every pump as it had before. He pulled the nozzle out, releasing the trigger, and dropped it, but it didn't fall, or so he thought. He looked closer and realized it was falling, albeit slowly.

John slung his service M4 to his hands. "1-2, get on the gun!" He whispered quite loudly to the soldier, who immediately got on the gun only to find it jammed, with the barrel so hot if he tried to rack and clear, it would have had an out of battery discharge, which would not be fun on such a chunky caliber. The Einherji pulled his claymore from the seat below the mg mount and hopped out of the vehicle, readying himself next to John. "Damned thing's jammed, barrel's too 'ot to rack."

An unknown voice came from behind them, along with slow and ominous clapping. "Well done. You noticed my little tricks. Most of the mortals I've come across don't realize in time, and when they try to fire.... Well.... Let's just say the projectile never reaches its target.

A shockwave pulsed across the area, knocking the 2 on their backs while they whipped around, sending their weapons from their hands and out of reach.

Lucifer stalked towards them slowly, hands hidden behind his back. He was dressed in a smart black tuxedo, the only color on his clothing was his red tie. His dusk purple skin was cracked, with what almost seemed to be miniature rivers of subtly pulsing lava flowing through them.

John rolled to his feet, pulling his bowie knife from its sheath on his shoulder. 1-2 stood slowly, his eyes glowing white-blue. A true son of Thor, never backing down, John thought. 1-2 put his hand out, pulling his claymore back to him, the blade now crackling with energy.

Lucifer chuckled slowly, which slowly turned into a maniacal laugh. "OH WHAT FUN," He shouted with glee, his voice echoing through the near empty and flat landscape, even outside of the time bubble he had created around the immediate area. "A son of Thor and a son of... Mmmm.... That's a scent I haven't had the pleasure of inhaling for a while... A son of Nott. How's your dear old dad? Oh wait.... He's dead!" Lucifer giggled like a small child. "I still remember his screams.... They were so pleasurable when they pierced my ears. Too bad his power was gone due to his betrayal. Imagine that, betrayed by your own child. How do you feel, playing a role in his death?"