The efforts of the pilots were remarkable. They were clearly both highly skilled at their jobs and willing to risk their lives to get the job done; but this job just wasn't humanly possible. The escorting helicopters finally ran out of ammunition; and fell back. Two of them ended up struck by drones and falling; while the rest managed to land safely. With just the one chopper left, carrying Spike, he could see... the counter on his arm was drawing steadily smaller.
He looked to the south, and took a deep breath. Fuck it. He grabbed one of the crew. "Turn left and point the door at the target site! And get the hell out of here!"
He watched his wrist-band, tracking the projected burial site... and the chopper abruptly swerved, the swarm of drones losing track for just a moment as it started to drop. Spike took a deep breath, reduced his density dramatically for just a moment; and leapt into the air; starting to dramatically increase it as he left.
For just a moment, he was a tiny fraction of his normal weight; and he hurtled forward like a projectile, somehow retaining his momentum despite abruptly becoming several tons in mass while flying through the air. He never saw the chopper heading downwards, or its failed attempt to evade the drone swarm; as the counter reached 5KM, he slammed into the ice like a projectile, bouncing and rolling forward; up the top of a hill, and settling down at 3KM when he could see the... suspiciously almost perfectly flat mass of ice down below, forming an almost-crater several kilometers across.
He nodded.. and started running and sliding down the ice, it cracking beneath his mass with every step.. before suddenly, a brilliant blue flash. The ice around him vaporized, and he was sliding rapidly downward in a pool of water. Another flash... he looked downward. The idiots were essentially making a massive waterslide directly into one of their ships for him. He grinned, giving a short hop into the air just as he reached the bottom; while his strength grew in proportion with his density, his jumps were... well. Pretty much normal for an adult, athletic male; but as he was falling onto the roof of the starship, he focused.
One moment, the crater was filled with an apparent smooth icy platform. The next... the entire ice sheet had been cracked apart, and the ships, originally spaced out in an artificial, underground series of caves, had been yanked towards each other with a horrific screeching as they smashed together. He didn't use enough force to actually crush the ships; that would be horrific, make him have to go out and fix the moon again; possibly even start up a new super-volcano right here in the middle of antarctica; but he was certain that he had likely injured quite a few Jotun with that; and certainly messed up whatever they were doing, as he could see starship parts piled up loosely in the single mound of ice and debris he was now embedded in.
He smiled; and leapt into the air again; just a few feet off the ground, spiking his density again; yanking the Jotun around once more, sending debris flying through the air.. before dropping to a more normal one as he landed. He glanced down at his wrist again. The missiles were on the way already. If he could keep the Jotun scrambling around for just a few more minutes...
He ignored the individual Jotun, unless they got directly in his way, as he smashed his way through walls, and a floor, reaching the reactor of the starship he'd landed on. He didn't try for anything difficult or technical; he simply upped his density again; and reached directly through the casing to grab whatever ridiculously active material powered these things. He wasn't completely certain what it might be; anti-matter? Some sort of super-radioactive mass? Whatever it was...
The moment it came into contact with air, and the containment was ruptured, it all went white. The ship... was gone. The crater was a bit bigger, and he was surrounded by a field of slagged Jotun metal; and numerous intact or partially intact ships. None of the Jotun who were outside seemed to be moving. Spike smiled.. and started jogging towards the ship closest to the center of the whole mass. This time, he'd up his density even more, make sure they were good and tightly packed when he set it off.
***
Riding over the icy terrain on top of a mobile artillery unit, a CAESAR-G, Eyeball looked around at the accompanying... army, for lack of a better word. There were ghosts, mutants from La Famiglia, US DMA metahumans, a French M-SOC team that had been on the carrier when France was turned into a wasteland, even a few packs of zombies, both meta-human and otherwise; all riding on a mix of APCs, tanks, and other armored vehicles. The group he was surrounded by was enough to conquer any nation on earth... possibly even before the Jotun arrived... and the french 155mm mobile gauss howitzer he was currently looking down the scope of could destroy a target with direct fire over four kilometers away; and arc fire over seventy. Conveniently enough, that four kilometers was outside the range of a Jotun Attack Craft.
The swarm of drones had crested the horizon a few minutes ago; and a full division of armored vehicles equipped with anti-air munitions had gone in advance, Ascension units manning them as they swept the sky with reckless abandon; the APC was making a steady crunching as it advanced, rolling over a carpet of ice mixed with the remnants of millions of silvery drones. Their usual incredibly accuracy and precision wasn't quite as useful in this case; though it did ensure that they didn't waste ammunition.
At a few called-out commands, the anti-air fire halted, at some pre-arranged signal; the driver of the CAESAR-G grinned, glancing back at Eyeball. "You ready to see some crazy shit, american?"
Eyeball chuckled. "I've killed Titans, monsters, robots, and fought aliens in space. How will this measure?"
"Ohh... decent enough. More important, it won't be so goddamn cold."
One of the APCs riding near the center of the formation had a set of four metal rods projecting up from the center; and a group of three women and a man, all looking extremely similar in Metahuman Special Operations Command uniforms not that different from the frenchman driving him forward; and also because their faces were virtually identical. Siblings? Cousins?
Regardless, each was securing themselves in place, using a climbing harness to attach themselves to one of the rods to let them remain stable while the vehicle advanced; and the group linked hands, starting to... sing something. ".. Some sort of sonic powers? Going to shatter the machines? How does that..."
Suddenly, an enormous halo of flame burst into being over the heads of the foursome; starting with four pinpoints of light, then becoming a circle... then a hemisphere. It was virtually impossible to see anything but the vivid orange and blue of flame in every direction as the group continued moving... slightly slowed, now, as much of the ice and dirt had converted into mud and slush.
Eyeball frowned; and checked the sensors on the artillery. Radar still worked. They could pick up any big metal objects flying in. But if lesser Jotun came in, they'd be blind till they jumped through that fire.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"The song, is just to focus. Help them sync up. They are quintuplets, all with the same fire, but one of the brothers is... too strong. If he tries this sort of thing, he cooks us all alive. He's waiting in the back for his turn."
The convoy continued to advance at a steady pace.. suddenly, Eyeball saw... a massed spike of burnt, molten metal falling on the APC containing the foursome. "Hard left all, hard left all!"
Moments later, the APC and other vehicles swerved and shifted; some nearly flipping over as they mounted bounders and obstacles they'd been avoiding; and a cascade of molten drones slammed into the ground not far from their old position. Several other, similar spears slammed into the earth just to the right of other craft; and one that, despite having eight seconds of warning, still didn't dodge in time... was abruptly crushed flat, the crew of the vehicle immersed in the liquid metal; thankfully killed instantly, at least.
He paid closer attention; clearly the Jotun could detect the vehicles through the haze of fire the same way they could spot an Attack Craft; not enough for a good, direct aim, but enough to take out the relatively slow-moving vehicles; the slowest ones in the convoy were only moving 45mph over the rough terrain, and they all needed to match that to stay in formation.
He looked down at his GPS, and he looked out the window, sticking his head out to see how well his helmet's sensors worked through the flames; not very well. "We're coming up on artillery range. Are they going to be sticking with the artillery, or joining the advancing troops?"
The driver glanced up. "They'll be staying with us. Honestly, I've been getting word from command about what's going on at the Jotun camp. I don't know if they'll have many drones left to send as you advance. We're probably going to be spreading out to intercept fleeing Jotun at this stage."
A chunk of molten metal bounced off of Eyeball's helmet; or would have, at least; he simply pulled his head back inside. "Honestly, these guys got to see Valkyrie in action the last time they came here. If I were them, I'd have stayed home. Even if not for the nukes and the chaos, they'd deserve what they're getting right now."
***
The battlefield was filled with the shrieking of dead and doomed Jotun, with the starships, already damaged before Valkyrie and Butcher arrived, looking much like a junkyard smeared with bits of the blue-tinted metal and more varied carapace tones of the Jotun. Valkyrie slowly lifted one of the starships; an art she'd been perfecting over the past ten minutes, finding just the right spot to actually be able to lift one of these monstrosities; even as hard as they were, all of their weight on a couple of human-hand-sized points would drive someone like Valkyrie in like a nail rather than actually picking it up.
Here, though, on the central supports near the rear of the craft... it was dense enough to, at least temporarily, take that kind of pressure, as she lifted the craft; and hurled it into the sky, watching is it rolled and crashed into one of the others, before rolling, skidding, sending bits of debris scattering in all directions across the ice. One of the railgun rounds that seemed to be coming in every ten, fifteen seconds or so actually slammed into the rolling craft, spearing a hole in its hull and spinning it about.
As she started to turn to yet another of the craft, she noticed one... oddly intact-looking. It looked virtually immaculate, as if it were fully repaired. She grinned. That must be where... Oh?
A massive Jotun; over three meters tall in his powered armor, colored blue, gold, and red, decorated with ornate spikes and projections, every centimeter covered in beautiful etched carvings, was advancing towards her, with a dozen Jotun wearing pure grey armor advancing to either side. Rather than the plasma rifles most of his forces bore, this one wielded... a spear, with four points set in a square pattern. The thing looked... ancient. Carved from wood and bone rather than advanced steel. Magical artifact? Perhaps with some historical significance? She could mount it on her wall over the fireplace, next to the head of that Pinkerton who'd ordered the hit on her family.
Below it. That one would still be her greatest trophy, no matter what else she accomplished.
She glanced around. Butcher's black-and-red armored form was casually tossing Jotun at encroaching Attack Craft as if they were baseballs, and, for the most part, the enemy was fleeing. The enemy had stopped seriously trying to hurt the duo a few minutes ago, aside from a few of the larger females; apparently just too mean and aggressive to give up without a fight, no matter the odds. She could understand the feeling.
But this... this might be the king himself. Odin wanted to tangle with him. Where was the all-father anyway?
The enormous Jotun came to a stop before Valkyrie. Just the sight of them; Valkyrie in her massive, shiny, heavily enchanted boots, with what seemed to be black leather pants and jacket that were, in fact, pseudo-neutronium woven into shape... and slightly over two meters tall herself, but still tiny compared to the giant crab-creature and his companions.
She smiled up at him. "So. Are you the asshole in charge of all this? I warned the last of you lot that if I saw any more of your kind on my world I'd make them wish they'd never been born. Seems you didn't get the message. Maybe I need to go visit the Jotun homeworld. See how your people like it. In fact... I think I may do just that."
The massive figure let out the familiar, unsettling shriek of an angry Jotun; something that shouldn't come from a crab, definitely. "I am Jotun. No longer King; I am already dead, and I accept this. Those who remain here, on earth, will be the last of the Jotun. The rest of my people will be the Shaqtun, should you meet them again. Hopefully my daughter will learn from my failures."
He held up his weapon. "This... is the Lance of the Eternal Slumber. A powerful artifact... not so important as the Chains of Eternity that your people left broken in orbit, but of great significance. My people believed that it could slay anyone with whom it was struck with after it was forged. For the most part, they were proven correct. I know it cannot kill the Emperor, however.. and I believe it cannot kill a Titan like yourself."
He crouched down on four legs, raising the lance. "But I will try. If it is possible for you to be slain by force of arms, Titan, know that today is the day it will happen."
There was a sudden loud crack of breaking ice. A second. A third. Three figures; two women almost as tall as Valkyrie herself wearing beautiful, immaculate golden armor, the last armor that seemed to virtually glow, its own color impossible to make out from the blue glow; and the one-eyed face of Odin smiled from behind the helmet.
"Lady Valkyrie. Might I request a boon?" The two women turned to the king's guard, raising their spears. Overhead... the glow of the spirits of the fallen could be seen as they flew downwards, chasing after fleeing Jotun.
She smiled. The Allfather knew she was the stronger, and if she wanted, could crush both this Jotun and himself with ease. On the other hand, he was extremely strong, insanely capable... not bad looking, either. Reminded her of Butch's father. "Possibly. You realize that, unlike me, he might actually kill you?"
Odin chuckled, lifting up his own spear and shield, smacking them together with a loud, audible crack. "I am aware. For this fight, you are the perfect warrior. I believe the Emperor these Jotun are so afraid of might be able to defeat you... but aside from him, the best anyone else can do is divert your wrath. Perhaps, if they could seperate you from your neutronium, toss you into orbit. But... I do enjoy a challenge."
Valkyrie glanced around at the guards, considering the idea of who might actually be a threat to her... and turned to Jotun. "Well then. Someone else appears to want the honors. The rest of you lot..." She looked at the guards. "Lets give the gentlemen some space. If you just stand back, I'll let you live however long it takes the Allfather to take care of business."
Jotun was... relieved. He backed away, raising his spear in salute. Signals from the more recent landing site were... scattered. Terrible. They seemed to have already met a horrific fate, and any of the three ships launching from there was unlikely. The ship here, however, would be launching any moment now. He could easily delay these people long enough to make sure that those who could escape, would do so. Hopefully whatever weapon had taken out the fleet wasn't already waiting to fire again, or this would be pointless.