A Wolf Among the Sheep

Actions...

Meanwhile, Hjordis was clearly not a pilot. Landing this bucket of bolts was proving much harder than she anticipated. Sure, the clouds didn't help, but it was also clear that she wouldn't be able to use the Tokyo airport. That, and apparently, word had reached Japan that she was headed there, so multiple fighters had intercepted her craft. When it came to following orders... well... she didn't. And so they opened fire, and shot it down in a forest, to the north.

The crash happened quickly. The metal of the plane crumpled when it touched down into land, but the cabin didn't get overly damaged. And being strapped into the pilot's chair certainly helped.

Getting up and stretching, she walked over, hammer in hand, towards the exit. Seeing her... entertainment, still in one piece, she smiled, "Minn ástir, kná-ér leita gildr gæfa..." She strode past to the door, and out into the woods, ready for adventure... and glory. She'd earn her place in Valhalla, of that, she had no doubt.

Dekeu Danjodoen's body was stiff with pain, lying on the floor. Her body ached, as she struggled to move even a millimeter. Her clothes were in tatters, left that way by that... savage. She had been tormented, in more ways than one. Used for pleasure, she had to get out. Move. Survive. But not yet.

The Savage was still here, striding in from the cockpit. Anger clouded her vision as she watched, helpless. The Savage could choose to end it here. Make sure that she couldn't speak of what she endured... but chose not to. Instead, her voice, rough as stone, yet with some wild charm, whispered in her foreign language, "Minn ástir, kná-ér leita gildr gæfa..." and left without a care in the world. She doomed her to die slowly, instead of just killing her outright. She waited, carefully, to ensure the Savage was gone. Oh, she knew her name. She was proud of what she did to her, under the name of Hjordis Ragnarsdottir. She etched that name into her heart, to hate. But her mind only equated that with one thing: Savagery. Unadulterated Savagery. Turning over, she crawled, slowly, agonizingly, out of the plane. She had to find help.

Help. Could she trust any of these Japanese people? Would they think she was a part of this? There was no way they'd believe she was innocent, so she had to find heroes to help. In the end, she had no choice. Dekeu had to try.

And so she crawled, through the forest. Exerting every ounce of energy, ignoring the poisons coursing through her veins, the concoctions she was forced to imbibe from the Savage's raid on the jet's liquor cabinet. Her vision was blurry, unfocused, but her heart was. She only wanted one thing.

Revenge on the Savage.

Meanwhile, Leonidas stepped onto the platform for departures his grandfather had begged him not to leave, but it was futile. The man was determined to go, and so he would. Passing through security with minimal interference, due to his hero ID, he was able to carry his hero gear through and to the plane. Having secured it in the luggage hold himself and working with security, he then went to sit with the rest of the passengers in the departures section. Few knew who he was, because his armor was more identifiable. Glancing to the side, at a nearby gift shop, he saw a spattering of his own merch. Shirts, banners, posters, and action figures all there. Smiling slightly at the hope a young boy had from aweing at an action figure... he sighed, and sat back. Soon, the boy and his parents took seats sitting next to him. Apparently they had gotten the figure for him, and let him hold it, as well as a small poster. Smiling at the scene, he thought about his own youth. Where his father had taken him on travels throughout Europe, and how he had met many of his own personal heroes... but his favorite would always be his father, and grandfather. He snapped out of his memories when noticing the child look at him curiously.