Bersi Hákon sat drenched a robe of colors in a shadowy room in the Neon City. Light streamed in through the blinds and thin curls of smoke spiraled towards the ceiling as he traced lazy figure eights with his cigarette. In his other hand, he held a copy of the Three Portlands Tribunal.
A man with very sharp features and bright red hair leaned back in his chair. "Bersi? You gonna read that out loud or keep suckin' down that cig like its a cock?"
"Get stuffed, Spades. I'll read it when I'm ready." He paused. "But tell Candy and Elix to find a good point to stop.
Spades chuckled and walked over to the Holocom. "Candy, Elix. Find a place to rest. Bersi's bout to read our first review from Midgard."
Elix responded first. "Can't stop in online-"
"Get FUCKED!" Shouted Candy. Elix tossed aside their Holoset.
"Oh come on, you just can't… do… that. It's gotta be cheating or somemin."
Candy stood and flexed her Biomail arms before removing her Holoset. "Can't be a cheat if the game lets you do it."
Bersi looked up from his newspaper before taking another long draw on his cigarette, the bright red of the cherry illuminating the dark crimson of the paper. "Did she-"
"Yeah, she power leveled from 5 to 100 in like six seconds. With that dumb glitch."
Spades sat back down in his chair. "Then why do you still play with her? She kicks your ass with the same glitch every time."
Elix mumbled. "I was really close this time. My team was workin' really well together."
"Never fight a Dark Elf in a video game if ya value your pride." Candy laughed. "You've been my friend for what? Five centuries? And ya still haven't learned?"
"Ahem. Are you ready?"
"Cue it up, cocksucker."
"I'm all ears."
"Did we crush as good as I crushed Elix?"
"In my years covering music for the Tribunal, I've never come across a band like Chained Wanderers. Combining the genres that each members' home is known for, this musical mixer never fails to astonish."
"All good so far." Spades smiled.
"Since their first album hit the shelves in Three Portlands, people have been clamoring for a show. And on November 13th, 2017, they delivered; stepping out of a portal and onto the Anderson Stage to deliver a one of a kind performance."
"This seems really positive."
"Coulda thought it was one of a kind in a bad way, Elix…"
Bersi glared at Candy and continued. "But in this reviewer's mind, what propels the Wanderers to the place they deserve in the Anomalous Music community is their unique blend of cultures and musical styles. Dressed in charcoal black and chain mail, Spades keeps the rhythm and beat as the drummer. A self-professed lover of Death Metal and Hard Rock, when the song hits hard, he makes it harder."
"They couldn't have given me more dick jokes if they wanted to." Spades laughed. "Makes it harder…"
"Candy Kerrigan heads up the keyboard, the brass, the woodwinds, anything the band could need. This Jack of All Trades fills every niche and you can really feel their influence when we hear the more electronic beats and ballads the band has to offer. Offstage, their persona is louder than life."
"And I've got the power to back it all up." Candy flexed her Biomail again.
"Pulling it all together, Elix St. Caliborn rocks a rhythm guitar and a quiet aura of mystery. This singer/songwriter tempers the harshest vibes brought by the rest of the band."
"Aww."
"What'd she have to say about you, Bersi? You're the one who did the interview."
Bersi turned and stared out the window into the crowded streets and skies of Svartalfhiem.
"Oh Christ." moaned Eleanor Bells as she collapsed in the hotel bed, her blonde hair cascaded across the pillow. "I really shouldn't have done this. Journalistic integrity and all." She looked over at the dark shape on the other side of the mattress. A lighter clicked and illuminated his shoulders and jaw.
"Thought you were looking for an in-depth piece. A real character analysis?"
"Yeah, about the band."
Bersi leaned against the headboard, draped in his flannel shirt. "I'm the bard, I'm the band."
Eleanor snorted, "Keep that ego in check. You've got a hell of a lot less allure when you're so self-centered."
He took a drag on his crimson cigarette. "Can't help it. No song can be written without a Skald. No stories get told."
"Really now?"
"Been like that for eons."
Eleanor propped herself up on her elbow. "What's a skald, by the way?"
Bersi ashed his cigarette on the nightstand. "A Norse warrior musician. A storyteller. I was one of the first."
"So you expect me to believe that you're what… two thousand years old?"
"Yep."
"So do you want me to put it down as egotist and liar or liar and egotist?"
"As long as you don't spell my name wrong, I'm fine with anything. Name's been dragged through the mud enough, I'm used to it."
"So, what would you attribute your long life to? Was it exercise?" Eleanor traced her finger across his chest. "Or eating well? Clearly you aren't avoiding smoking or drinking."
"Dying young and winding up in Helhiem."
"Well, spin me a yarn, Mr. Skald. I gotta know how that worked."
Bersi lit another cigarette. "Easy. Die dishonorably. Meet a cool drummer. Return to your body as a draugr."
"That easy?"
Bersi heard the rifle crack, then glass shattered. Twisting sideways, he propelled himself off the bed and towards the closet as the first dart struck the headboard. The second dart hit Eleanor in the neck and she stammered out a yelp before slumping over. In the dim street lights, Bersi saw a sniper crouched on an adjacent rooftop. The sniper touched their ear and Bersi burst out of the room, slamming into a woman in a cutoff tanktop. As she bent to retrieve her overturned medical bag, he sprinted towards the stairwell.
Exiting the stairwell to the next floor, Bersi saw an open door and moved for it. The bluish-white of a monitor glinted off the cases arrayed across the room and Bersi saw two people dressed in combat fatigues leaning over a laptop. His footsteps must have alerted them to his presence because the man turned to face him. Before he could raise his shotgun, Bersi lashed out with a brutal kick and sent him flying across the room.
He tried to end the fight with a quick punch to the woman's head, but she blocked his blow before delivering two savage punches to his chest. Pressing the assault, she landed a knee to his groin and began to alternate over/under strikes around his guard. Bersi crossed his arms at the wrist and caught her right hammer blow. Her arm gleamed silver and he looked at her.
"Biomail?"
"What?" She looked surprised, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Grabbing it by the elbow and wrist and twisting, he cleanly severed the prosthesis at the shoulder. He brought his elbow into her chin, knocking her to the ground. Bersi tossed the arm back at her before he backed towards the window. He turned and raised his leg to kick it out when a heavy object cracked against his ribs. As Bersi spun, he was greeted by a strike to his jaw. The woman stepped back, swinging the arm in a circle by the wrist.
Bersi spat, and saw a white tooth in the bloody spittle. "Really? You're not done?"
Several wires sparked at the stump as the woman dropped the arm and touched her headpiece. "Package is coming your way."
"The what-"
Bersi didn't get to finish his thought, because the woman hit the ground, revealing the man he'd assumed was unconscious, crouched and aiming a large shotgun at him. The blast took him off his feet and propelled him through the window.
Bersi's feet clipped the edge of the fire escape and he fell head over heels onto the dumpster eight stories below. He groaned, felt the bones in his spine realign, and slid off the top. Coughing, he examined his stomach.
"Fuckin' beanbags."
They weren't deadly, but they were embedded. Blood seeped around the wounds, oozing black. As he sat upright, a shadow fell across his face and he looked up to see a huge man standing over him, arm cocked back.
"Can I get like… five fucking seconds? I just got fucking shot and thrown out of a building."
The man laughed. "I know what that's like. Fell fourteen stories once myself. Take the time you need."
"Tha… thanks." Bersi pulled out the beanbags and winced. He let out a small yelp as he patted his breast pocket, before pulling out a crushed pack of cigarettes. None of them were broken. Thankfully.
"Got a light?"
"Sure." The man leaned over and Bersi saw a badge on his shoulder depicting a castle rising out of the surf. Below that, a stylized Ace of Spades. Bersi took a drag on his cigarette. The man looked at him.
"Is that a local brand?"
"Local as they get. Make em myself."
"Why the red color? Just an edgy kinda guy?"
Bersi laughed. "No. But it'll sound that way. I'm undead. Gotta soak em in blood. Eat to heal, heal to survive. You know."
The man cocked his eyebrow. "I… guess that makes sense. What kind of undead are you? Like a vampire? Dispatch was scarce on details."
"Draugr."
"Oh, like in-"
"No. Not like in Skyrim. Why does everyone ask that?" Bersi groaned.
Bersi sat in silence for the next few seconds, taking several deep drags off his cigarette. "Guess the Foundation's after me again. Thought Three Portlands was off-limits."
"Normal circumstances, yeah. But we've got a warrant, and there's some big shit going on out there."
Bersi rolled his eyes. "Do you… do you wanna just skip the fight and just tell me what's going on?"
The man slid down beside Bersi, "Sure."
"Gonna elaborate on that?"
"Your old friend sent us to come find you. Said you were our best chance of getting around the realms. Whatever that means."
"Why me?"
"You've got a… Frostsoul? Something about moving through the realms?"
"So. It's happening again, isn't it? Only reason they'd need me." Bersi flicked his cigarette into the gutter. "But I'm never working with that slimy bastard again. Barely worked the first time and cost us all everything."
"Not him. If we're talking about the same guy, he's messing around in Antarctica." The man pulled a thin silver chain from his vest pocket. "But Eon said to give you this. Figured you'd understand the gravity."
Bersi's eyes widened. "No… Is that?"
"Yep."
"I can't… help you guys. You understand that, right? I've got my own part to play and there's a lot of things I've gotta do before I play my final piece."
"Eon said you'd say that." The man climbed to his feet. "I'm not supposed to do this but…" He pulled Bersi to his feet and wrapped the chain around his throat. Bersi felt the broken links weld together into a necklace as their weight fell on his shoulders. "…Don't go left at the alley up ahead. Or my captain is gonna beat the shit out of you with a baton. Two probably."
"He sounds lovely."
"She's going through some stuff right now." The man shrugged.
Bersi started walking down the alley. He got about halfway before he turned to look at the man. "Tell Eon that I miss them. Been too long…" he paused, "But they need to send a real invite next time. I'm a busy dead man."
And he ran off into the night.
"Hey dipshit. You gonna read on or just keep staring at the billboard for Virtual Porn?" sniped Spades.
"Go fuck yourself." replied Bersi.
"Once you finish reading… maybe."
Candy chimed in, "C'mon, don't leave us hanging…"
"Ahem, 'While I figured that the leader of the Chained Wanderers would be an intriguing or mysterious man, I remember very little of the time I spent with Bersi Hákon. While his work as lead guitarist is phenomenal and his delivery of ballads and songs is impressive, very little stands out in what should be a remarkable man. This is my only criticism of the band, and I wholeheartedly recommend the band to anyone looking for something new to jam to.' "
Silence fell over the room.
"Dude. You got fuckin' owned." laughed Spades.
"Yeah, she didn't really seem to like you at all."
"Forgettable Bersi Hákon? How badly did ya fuck up with this girl to make her write that?"
Bersi stood to leave, the chain glinting in the neon light. "Laugh all you want, you degenerates. We've still got a foothold in Midgard. They've got a taste of our sound."
Spades snorted "Assuming they even remember."
Elix burst out laughing, but Bersi noticed Candy staring intently at his neck. She blinked and looked up at him. "You wanna grab a cig, Bersi?"
"Sure, Candy."
Leaning over the balcony, Candy lit her cigarette with the tip of her thumb and took a deep breath, blowing it over the city below.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Best as I can tell, yeah."
"Growing up here, ya hear stories about it. Hushed whispers, sometimes. Mostly family stories like 'ma great granny helped forge it!' but I never thought I'd see it in the flesh. The Chainmail of the Fenrir Wolf. Damn."
Bersi flicked a cigarette into the street below. "And the fact a scrap of it fell into Midgard means-"
"Yeah. He's not gonna hold for much longer. But what are we gonna do about it?"
"Best I can tell? We've got one concert date set in stone."
Candy chuckled. "Neo-Punk Rock Concert at the End of the World."
