Chapter 39: "The Storm"

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"Because a thing seems difficult for you, do not think it impossible for anyone to accomplish."

– Marcus Aurelius

"The cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender or submission."

- John F. Kennedy


Red Rock

The commanders of the Red Rock defenses stood on the walls of the small city, their collective gaze transfixed on the sight above them. Heartbeats earlier all seemed lost as if they were stealing themselves for the final sacrifice, but now there was hope once more. As far as the human eye could observe, ships and warriors clogged the skies over Michigan.

"I think, gentlemen," Miranda Silverwater said, her eyes fixed on the sky high above the battlefield, "We may actually have a chance of winning this thing after all."

"I have to rally my people; we have one shot at this." Raynott Lin said, making for the ladder leading down off the wall.

"No rest for us either, Jonathan" Master Grell growled, straightening his battle scarred robes. "I believe every iota of energy we can summon will be essential in the next few hours."

"Yes, Master," John Anders said, straightening his back and visibly steeling himself.

"This is McCoy," the colonel said, activating the circuit shared by the Red Rock Militia and the Grey Bears, "No time to rest, people; get ready to move. I want everyone capable of swinging a weapon at the main gates in fifteen minutes; we're taking the fight to those bastards."


The Battle

War is chaos. Once the battle is joined, all semblance of planning and order vanishes. The space around the great beast erupted as the allied forces smashed head first into the minions of the darkness. Asgardians, Olympians, Hetrans, Black Needles, Frost Giants, and all their comrades smashed into the enemy.

Death, fire, and chaos ruled the moment.

Mjolnir leaped from its master's hand and rocketed toward the ground below. Forged thousands of years before the great cataclysm, the hammer of Thor represented many things to many races. It was the storm, the harbinger of war, a symbol of honor, and a symbol of death. But to all who've experienced it, Mjolnir was the physical representation of power. The hammer impacted the ground with the force of a miniature nuclear bomb. Hundreds of Thorns and their allies fell, only to be replaced by five for every one killed.

"Well, that made them mad," Meg muttered, taking in the scene below.

"Mjolnir always strikes true!" Thor roared as the hammer raced back to his hand.

"There are a fuck of a lot more of them than I thought there'd be," Meg yelled, throwing volley after volley of blue-white energy at the enemies below. Each bolt vaporized dozens of Thorns with the same result as the hammer strike.

"We fight or we die, Megan Carson!" Astrild-Tammy roared as concentrated sunlight radiated from her hands and scorched the land below.

"Well struck, sister!" Thor laughed, "They will rue..." The god of thunder never finished his sentence.

Almost faster than even Meg could perceive, the tentacles lashed out from the bulk of the great beast into the skies. Dozens of warships and hundreds of individual fighters fell from the sky as appendages the thickness of a rail car smashed them. One great tentacle, the size of a small skyscraper, crashed into the Egyptian war barge. The craft (created ten thousand years before to fight in the wars of the gods) was cleaved cleanly in two.

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