God's Will

Preamble: There are many Gods in our universe, and many Goddesses as well. Some sprout from our imagination, others are born to it, others still rise to the occasion when called. This is the story of a God whom everybody thought was slain after a fishing expedition hooked a snake the size of the world, and how he decided to return to our planet… just in time for high school.

This story is dedicated to every person that woke up one morning and wished they could be more than average, and especially to my fans

Many Thanks to Bek D. Corbin, Starwolf, and E.E. Nalley for their assistance with my fan-fiction. Their characters are used with permission (I’m still waiting for Maggie Finson to reply, but I’d like to thank her too). Also, many of the references to Norse Mythology are historically accurate (to the best of my limited research). Any inaccuracies are either product of the authors imagination, or product of the authors mistakes in historical/mythological research, be they intentional or not.

"This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but it's fan fiction, so who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place (http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

The following story may (or may not) contain adult themes and mature language. It broaches controversial topics like politics, religion, sex, heterosexuality, homosexuality and trans-sexuality. These topics are sometimes handled in a humorous fashion that may seem inappropriate to some. If any of the above is unacceptable to you or against the current laws in your geographical location, I ask you not to read the story or move somewhere where it is allowed.

God’s Will
A Whateley Academy Fan Fiction
By Straycat

        Who can knoweth the mind of God?

The Norse God of Thunder and Lightning was bored. He wished he had Mjollnir so he could knock some of the frost off the Bi-Frost gates. He continued pacing. It’d been what? A thousand years since Ragnarok? Thirteen-hundred? The final battle had lain waste to nearly everything, but it did not destroy that insignificant blue-green ball hovering in the distance beyond the gates as all was foretold it would. But it made such significant changes that the world that existed before was all but gone.

The Gods no longer walked the earth.

Still he felt something stirring down there, something with a lot of power. Or a lot of something’s with a little power. Life, apparently, had not been completely destroyed.

Yet Father was gone. When Ragnarok ended Father Odin had been consumed by Fenrir the Wolf, and died from the world.

Of course, Thor was thought to have died as well. He remembered being bitten as he smashed the head of the snake, Jormungand, with Mjollnir his mighty hammer. Then turning and taking 9 staggering steps before he passed out. Thor needed the time to grieve the death of his father, and time to recover from the dammed snakebite.

Father was gone, and he’d sulked and brooded enough. A decision was made. He needed to return to the world to see what all was happening, but! He didn’t think it’d be a good idea to just ride a lightning bolt down and say “Hail, Motals! Pireeth thee speak of what yonder is occurring?”

‘Ok, no more french epics for you’, he thought.

Thor sat down and thought.

Need I mention that Thor is not known for his fast thinking? But you get the idea.

    *        *        *        *

January, Friday the 13th of 1992 in a Naval Hospital near San Francisco. The Sun, The Moon, and The Stars were in perfect position to give birth to a Triple-Capricorn.

It was only appropriate, he was stubborn as a goat after all.

Not to mention his mother had been on the pill, his father wore a condom, she had a diaphragm, and he was shooting blanks.

The doctor said he was a gift from god.

The doctor had declined to suggest from which god.

    *        *        *        *

Fourteen years later

Torrence Odwinsen was a red-headed, freckle faced geek. He was such a geek he bordered on nerd-dom and dorkiness. He was an information junkie of the worst sort, drank in books faster than most publishers could print them, and was a total and complete lurker online. He never posted. He never commented. He read. He read everything. Blogs, news, opinion polls, editorials, articles, The Darwin awards and the Onion… ok, he enjoyed a good laugh once in a while too.

Torrence was also missing out on his 14th birthday, but most people that had been invited wouldn’t have missed him anyway, until it came for the cutting of the cake. His blonde mother, Gerreldene Odwin, had to drag him away from his web-comics and instruct him in what was happening on the way to the table, for Torrence was not really good with people. His blonde father, Jorge Odwin, was waiting for them at the table with a large cake knife, and helped his puny weakling of a red-headed son cut the cake so everyone else could get back to their good time.

Jorge was clinically sterile from all the steroids he’d done in high school so he could be a better athlete. He was a Jock’s Jock, and an unmitigated ass. Gerry had been the homecoming queen and a cheerleader. Now she was a frumpy housewife that detested her husband for turning her into a frumpy housewife.

Both we severely disappointed with their son. First off, he was not the daughter they had hoped for, the classic beauty that was the apple of her father’s eye. HE was not the jock his father had been, nor would ever be by all accounts.

He was in fact, a 98-pound, redheaded, freckle-face, pencil-necked geek.

    *        *        *        *

“Yes Mr. Odin. I understand.” The female voice paused from behind an expensive executive office chair.

“Of course, Sir. I will see to the details personally.” She swiveled around to face the desk. “Personally, yes Sir.” She said into the phone.

Mrs. Carson fidgeted with a pen on her desk.

“Of Course, Mr. Odin. The usual accounts. All will be seen to, Sir.” She listened again for a while, then sighed.

“I completely understand, Mr. Odin. I will see your son has a proper education, as per your wishes.”

She raised her eyes heavenward and thought to herself ‘Why can’t Gods or parents handle their children growing up and going to school away from home?’

She heard the answer on the other side of the phone.

“No, sir. I was not trying to be disrespectful. Now I have a very busy day ahead of me and I need to get back to work. … Yes, Of course. I hope you enjoy your vacation Mr. Odin. Good day, sir.”

Mrs. Carson hung up the phone and hung her head in her hands. Superhero’s, Super-Villains, Gods, Goddesses, Daemons and Immortals she could deal with, and did on a daily basis. … Why was it always the parents that gave her the biggest headaches?

    *        *        *        *

Torrence looked at his bed. It was covered with the usual junk, clean clothes, dirty clothes (which you could only tell the difference between by subjecting your nose to ‘The Sniff Test’), Lady Lightning comics, Southern Belle Comics, Erinyes Comics, and Care Givers DVD’s. His bed was completely covered, unless you counted the spot on his bed just big enough for him to climb in and sleep, as long as he didn’t move around a lot while doing so.

And in the middle of that one almost clean spot was a box. It was addressed to him, and in his own handwriting.

Torrence looked at the box. It was his handwriting alright, but when did he learn to write in Runic Script?  He picked up the box and reread it.

“To: Myself,
From: Myself

    A present for my birthday, from me.  You will know who I am, and who you really are after I put this on… well, after you put it on as I am not me, as in you, yet.

    P.s. there is a note inside that explains things a bit. (I hope)”

Torrence opened the box and found a jeweler’s box on top of a folded piece of vellum. He opened the jeweler’s box and looked in.

There was a intricately carved one once pewter hammer on a cord just big enough to use as a necklace. He glanced at “Mighty Thor!” comic issue #1 in it’s protective frame on the wall that his father had bought in a last ditch effort to connect with his son last year.

It had never been read, and he was not allowed to take it out of it’s frame. That would ‘Lower it’s resale value’ his father had said.

He reached a tentative finger in the box and poked the one once pewter hammer that looked just like the one in the picture frame.

Nothing dramatic happened. He waited, and nothing continued to happen. He gave in and put the hammer on and felt like…  he was wearing a one once pewter hammer on a silken cord around his neck. He was a bit disappointed, so he read the note.

“To: Me
From: Myself
Concerning: I

    I got bored pacing around Valhalla with nothing to, as usual. After a few hundreds or a thousand of years I decided to return to Midgard and see what was going on. I decided to take the quite approach and return as a newborn infant. You, or rather us. Me. I needed to understand this world before just announcing myself and my presence as I usually do, with a bang. Caution seemed the byword.
I will unlock some of my memories so I can remember, and the rest will come later as I deem it time for me to remember. It won’t hurt, I promise me that.

    Signed: Thor a.k.a you.”

Torrence tried to yank the hammer from around his neck but it wasn’t there anymore. Neither were the box and the note. He looked around. Not here!

He looked at his hands, there was no difference. They were as frail and weak as before. He jumped for the dresser and shoved all his Transformers out of the way of his only mirror. Nothing. He looked unchanged.

‘Delusions?’ he asked himself? And almost got his hopes up that they were.

    *        *        *        *

One week later Torrence was taken to the school nurse by the lunch lady for a stomachache, just after lunch.

Nurse Kilpatrick looked him over “What seems to be the trouble today, Torrence? Bullies again?”

“Nay, not bullies, lassy. T’was all little Tor’s doin’ I say.” Grumbled the lunch lady. At the raise of an eyebrow the lunch lady continued “’E came back 4 times for school lunch, ‘e did. ‘aven a growth spurt me be thinkin’!”

“Four?”

“Aye, lassy. 4.” The lunch lady always said the number and not the word. After a nod to Torrence she then left.

Nurse Nancy Mary-Jane Margaret Kilpartick looked over at the still doubled over Torrence.

“What were you thinking, Torrence?” she got a groan, then after a while she heard him say something in a bare whisper. “Repeat that, please?”

“It… felt… like… I… had n… not… eaten… in… centuries.” Torrence rolled over and looked into her eyes. His eyes were still plain, uninteresting brown but they held a tinge of green at the edges now. She should know, she looked into them often enough checking for concussions at least once a month.

Nurse Kilpartick started. Then reached for her desk drawer. She knew there were instructions for this sort of thing, she’d read them thousands of times in the off chance that she’d be the one to discover an emerging mutant! The Fame! The Fortune! The… No. At best she’d make a target of the kid and her school if she went public. Humanity First and the MCO would stop at very little to get him… IF he was a mutant. Then they would figure her out, and that’s when her trouble would begin, again.

She thought for a moment before she noticed the sounds of snoring from the couch that Torrence was on. Perfect. She unlocked the drawer in her desk and pulled out it’s contents.

Her Whateley Academy evaluation folder and school brochure. She flipped through it.

Exemplar 1, Empath 2, heal/regen 2 it claimed she was. Well, it was also dated 1969 and she only looked in her early 30’s. Ah, there it was. The phone number.

She called.

    *        *        *        *

Jorge and Gerreldene Odwin goggled at their son feasting on dinner. Neither thought it possible that the wimp that had to be brought home by mommy for a tummy ache could pack away that much food a scant 4 hours later at dinner. They glanced at each other and Gerry shrugged.

“Um, son?” Jorge asked.

Around mouthfuls of food Torrence answered. “Nurse Kilpartick thinks it’s a growth spurt.” He returned to stuffing his face.

Jorge and Gerry looked at each other again. “Maybe?” his mother said.

“Maybe.” His father agreed.

This was an unspoken conversation that they had had many times in the past. It meant something along these lines ‘Maybe our son will start growing again’, or ‘Maybe our son will bulk up.’ Or ‘Maybe our son won’t be a wimp forever.’ And it definitely included ‘Maybe our son will get laid and into sports!’ that last one was from his father, who seemed to forget that ‘getting laid’ got him here in the first place.

    *        *        *        *

Torrence was doing homework again up in his room. It depressed his parents to see their son do homework because he was too eager to do it, and he was too good at it. He was fully two grades ahead of other kids his age, and the gap was widening every year.

Downstairs his parents read the daily mail. They had both received a letter from someplace called Whateley Academy. It was a brochure for some prep-school in New Hampshire, a couple hours away from Boston.
Torrence had been chosen for a special grant that would get him in at no cost to his parents. Free was the biggest selling point. They looked at each other.

“If he goes, we can be alone again.” His father said and his mother smiled. They had never wanted kids, but one had found them anyway. It’s not that they didn’t love Torrence, per se, but more like they were still too in love with each other to notice him under foot most of the time.

Oh, sure. Gerry had that ‘pluck at the heart strings’ that all mothers feel when they find out their child might go away to another state all the way on the other side of the country for school… but she pasted it off as heartburn from the chimichangas they’d had for dinner.

    *        *        *        *

August, Wednesday the 23rd of 2006

“This won’t hurt a bit” the doctor said as he hammered an overly large needle into Torrence’s bulging arm with a sledge hammer. A moment later the needle was forced out of Torrence’s arm, and the needle had the bare minimum of blood on it.

“There! See? Didn’t hurt a bit now, did it?”

Torrence looked at the bent needle the doctor had pulled out after having to hit it with a hammer to get it to pierce his skin.

“I guess not” he rumbled from deep in his incredibly large frame.

In the last several months Torrence had grown, and grown fast. At his 14th birthday he had been 4’9” and 98 pounds soaking wet. Now he was 6’5” and 220 pounds of ripped steel and aircraft cable. His eyes were as green as the sea and tended to go Grey when he was upset. His hair was as red as a wheat field at sunset, and long enough for braids.

He also habitually wore a mechanist’s hammer tucked into his belt and a Thor’s Hammer on a silken cord around his neck. He couldn’t explain this sudden fondness for hammers, but he felt naked without one on his person… which was odd for he didn’t even feel naked when he was naked as long as he had a hammer with him.

This would partly explain why no bully had bothered him in months. Well, that and the fact that the last one that did got thrown through a concrete wall with the barest flick of Torrence’s wrist. Fortunately the kid would recover and no one that saw it believed that it happened anyway.

Torrence looked at the notes the doctor had written.

“Exemplar 5/6 or Avatar 5/6?
Energizer/summoner (Thunder, lightning, Storms) 4 / others?
GSD 0%
Subject is either a high level Exemplar or a high level avatar with an extremely potent spirit. Possible candidate for ‘The Champion Force’ if subject is an avatar and able to eject prior spirit.”

Torrence snorted. He wasn’t an avatar. He had decided not to mention the hammer or what it thought of the situation. He was not even sure he wanted to try and translate the hammer’s comments from old Norse to modern English. It was naughty and his mother wouldn’t like him saying those things.

This also started to bother him a bit. He was sure that it was not really the hammer saying these things, but Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, Lightning, and War. Of course that was also him, Torrence, but not him. It was almost as if he’d locked a part of his mind up away from himself, and he was talking to himself making it sound like it was coming from the hammer… which was confirmed by that piece of self he’d locked off…

It wasn’t time yet.

“So...” the doc was saying “I guess you’ll be going off to Whateley soon, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Torrence replied.

“Good lad. S’good school by all accounts, or by what few accounts I’ve heard anyway.”

    *        *        *        *

Whateley Academy, September 7, Thursday

    “Dear mom and dad,

Schools pretty cool. There are kinds of new and interesting people here. I have high hopes for making friends here for a change as they are all a little bit like me. Different. My roommate is named Raeburn Danforth, he goes by Raydan (but he doesn’t really like the name, I don’t know why. I think it’s a neat name). He’s from someplace called Friendship, Wisconsin, a really small town of only 700 people. Wow, I think there were 700 people in my junior high school freshmen class alone! I can’t imagine a town that small anywhere near home. We’ll be meeting the principal for First Assembly later today.

Oh, last night some ninja’s attacked the school and some very pretty girls from over at Poe Cottage fought them and beat the tar out of them in their nightgowns!

    And people say High School is supposed to be boring.

            Your loving son,
                Torrence”

    *        *        *        *

Torrence sat down at an empty table to eat, it was about the only empty table left in the hall so he didn’t think about it too much, being the first day full day and all. He really didn’t know many people other than his roommate, and he never seemed to be on time for anything. ‘Guess he’s a quick eater’ Torrence thought.

He was just getting to the first of his 12 desserts when a troop walked up to his table with an aire of incivility about them, with a Hispanic male in the lead, and a very beautiful girl on his arm.
One of the hangers-on stepped forward.

“Move, this is the Alpha’s table!” Cavalier demanded.

Torrence looked him over. Snorted and kept eating. The Hispanic kid looked like he was about to say something when the girl squeezed his arm slightly.

What he didn’t see is both Don Sebastiano and Hekate had taken a peek into his mind. All they saw was the Norse God of Thunder, Lightning and War standing on a hill in bearskin and Chain-mail with a full blown thunderstorm at his back staring right back at them… and he was rather pissed off.

Hekate gave Torrence a girlish smile. “Pardon me, but we always sit at this table. Can I get you to move, there are soo many of us.” She beamed.

Torrence choked.

“Um. Yeah, uh, Sure! I’m… I’m sorry!” and he lifted his things and moved a few tables away, making room for himself between two kids that would really rather he hadn’t. The Don looked at Hekate with a question in his eyes.

“You saw it too. What I also saw was a 14 year old geek easily intimidated by girls.” Cavalier wiped off the seat like the good servant he was before the Alpha’s sat down for lunch.

    *        *        *        *

“Stop your fidgeting, Tor! I swear, if you mess this up for us freshmen…” the oriental fussed.

Torrence tried to adjust the corset that was being tightened around him. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s not supposed to feel right on a guy, stop tugging on it, you’re going to rip it!” his neighbor complained.

“I don’t see why I have to be trussed up in this silly getup.” Torrence muttered.

“It’s called ‘initiation’, Tor. It’s traditional, besides you got voted by the cottage to do it.”

“I didn’t get to vote. It’s not fair.”

“The candidates never get to vote on it, Tor, or they’d vote not to do it.”

“Mrs. Carson said we shouldn’t fall for the upper classmen’s pranks.” Torrence objected.

Dustin "The Wind" Delton Dragonne, Torrence’s next door neighbor, sighed as he tightened the strings more. “This isn’t a prank, Tor. It’s an initiation, that’s traditional. There’s a difference.”

“Next you’re going to tell me that we must honor tradition?”

“Of course, without the past we have no future.”

“Stop it with the silly fortune cookie crap, alright? And loosen that up a bit I can’t hardly breath!”

Torrence took a slightly too deep breath and there was a loud ripping sound from behind him.

“That’s great, just great, Tor! Stupid Round-Eye gone and ripped corset!”

“Does this mean I won’t have too…”

“No, it means we’ll have to find something else to put you in, or fix this thing… I wonder if those girls in Poe could sew it back together?”

“What? You’re not taking Home Ec?”

“Good gods No! Why would any self respecting male take Home Ec?”

    *        *        *        *

Later That Day:

“Welcome to Home Economics. I am Mr. Braithwaite, and I will be your teacher for this class. For the three gentlemen in the class I assure you that you WILL be doing everything I ask the young ladies to do, so I home you are secure in your manhood.”

Torrence blushed and settled a little further down in his seat hoping the guys from his cottage wouldn’t find out about this when the girl next to him nudged his elbow.

“Didja hear about ‘The Danger Damsel’?” Torrence shock his head, unable to speak, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Well, I heard from Sherrie my best friends roommate, who heard it from Janice during lunch time, who heard it from Bambie, that ‘The Danger Damsel’ completely destroyed the Laser range down in the sub-basements, and tried to murder the tech’s that were trying to save her life until the Beta’s, that’s the CAPE Squad, could break in and subdue her by force! And…”

“Mister Odwinsen, is there something you would like to tell the class??” The teacher interrupted the gossipmonger in a loud voice, indicating that it hadn’t been his first attempt.

“No, Sir!” he glared at the gossiper and turned away as she stuck her tongue out at him.

    *        *        *        *

Torrence had his ocellating fan going on high, and it just happened to be blowing Raydan’s homework off his desk every time it pointed that way.

“Turn that off, dammit. You keep mixing up my pages.”

“I’m hot.” Torrence didn’t even look up as his fan blew Raydan’s notes all over the floor.

“Dammit, Tor. Turn that thing off!” electricity crackled across Raydan’s knuckles.

“The Air Conditioner is broken, I’ll turn the fan down when they fix it.” Torrence turned the page he was reading.

Raydan got up and walked over to the outlet Torrence’s fan was plugged into, and jerked the cord out of the wall.

Eyes Gray, Torrence leaned over and plugged it back in.

Raydan yanked it back out.

Torrence plugged it back in and held it in place.

Raydan tried to move his hand and couldn’t… so he grabbed the cord at the back of the fan and ripped it out of the back of the fan.

Torrence jerked to a standing position and looked down on his diminutive roommate.

“You’re gonna replace that.”  Raydan sneered.

“Sure. AFTER my homework is done.” He pulled the cord from Torrence’s hand, and plugged it in to the wall in front of his desk, then stuck it in his mouth as he sat down to gather his homework up off the floor.

    *        *        *        *

September 19th

Torrence was sitting outside on a rather pleasant day enjoying the shade of a tree and reading a photocopied edition of the first printing in Icelandic of the “Prose Edda” by Snorri Sturluson, 1199. He briefly remembered Snorri’s great-great-great-grandfather. A bit of a drinker if his memory served him… then again, so was Thor back in those days, and no mortal had hope of keeping up with him. The birds were singing, the wind was blowing, the students were wandered the trails between cottages… so you know something BAD was about to happen, right?  This IS Whateley Academy, after all.

Good, because right at that exact moment, someplace deep underground a ghost caused an explosion. This explosion found it’s way quickly through all of the underground sewer tunnels and storm drains towards the surface, and promptly blew every man-hole cover on campus at least fifteen feet into the air. One of them fell and hit Torrence in the head, denting it’s self around his skull.

After a few seconds Torrence muttered  “OW!” then rubbed his head and looked at the offending man-hole cover.

“What in the Realm of Hel was that about?” he reached over and picked up the man-hole cover. With his hands he straitened it out again, before getting up to return it to the hole it was blown off of.

    *        *        *        *

“Hey Kid!” Torrence looked around for the voice. “Over here!” it whispered from behind a tree. Curious Torrence walked around the tree to see a stereo-typical “G-Man” leaning against the tree, hat adjusted just so, trench coat with collar up against the non-existent wind, lighting a ‘Lucky Strike’ with a Zippo.

“There’s no smoking on school property, Mister.” Torrence said with mild disgust and not even trying to hide it. The Fed dropped it and stamped it out.

“It’s just for the look of things anyway. Look, kid. I think you got what it takes to work with me and the Outfit.” He held out a hand with a business card between the nicotine-stained fingers. Torrence took it and read it.

    Special Agent Halbert Alexander Catchum
    Federal Bureau of Investigation
    Mutant Affairs Division
    Concord, New Hampshire

“Don’t call me ‘Kid’. My name is Torrence. You gotta be kidding ‘bout this, right?” Torrence arched a skeptical eyebrow at the Special Agent.

“Nope. Your big, your tough, and from your grades I seen your smart. You seem to have a talent for tactics and you don’t break the rules… Much.” The Fed smiled. “I’d be surprised if you hadn’t been scouted by The Agency yet.”

“Nope, haven’t seen them.” The Fed snorted.

“They must be moving slow for some reason.”

“Look Agent Catchum…”

“Special Agent Catchum…” The Fed corrected him.

“Special Agent Catchum… look, I appreciate the offer, but, I’m only a freshman yet. I’m not sure what I wanna do when I get out of school yet.”

“Look, Kid…” Torrence’s eyes went gray.

“Sir. I asked you not to call me ‘Kid’.” Thunder rumbled in the distance and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The Fed swallowed.

“Look, Mr. Odwinsen, I’m not asking you to sign your life away this second, kay? I’m asking you to keep it in mind and consider it. You have four more years of school, and knowing that you have a gig to go to relieves a bit of the pressure, kay? That’s all.”

Torrence consider this for a few moments.

“What does your division do, exactly?” Torrence asked.

“Mostly we interfere with…” he smirked “I mean, assist, the MCO with inter-departmental relations and coordination. We’re usually the go-between between the locals, the cops that is, and other agencies like the MCO, CIA, FEMA, or just about everyone else. We are also the premiere criminal investigation and national crime laboratory. Bunch of fancy talk for we stick our noses into everything happening on U.S. soil if there is a crime involved. Mostly it’s just backup and support. That is ‘till it crosses a state line. Then it’s our beat.”

Torrence thought about it a second. “You guys have S.W.A.T.?” The Fed nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” The Fed smiled.

“That’s all I ask. Have a nice day, Mr. Odwinsen.” The Fed turned to leave. “If anyone else tries to poach on you, just tell them to give me a call. I’ll keep them off your back till you decide to join up, kay?”

“Eh Hem!” Torrence coughed to get his attention. When the Fed turned around Torrence pointed to the cigarette he’d dropped.

“Oh, yeah. Was just gunna grab that…” The Fed blushed and picked it up, putting it in his jacket pocket. Then he walked off and merged with a crowd of students. He’d have disappeared in the milling group if he hadn’t been about a foot taller than most of them.

Torrence looked at the card in his hand again. There was a phone number and email address at the bottom. He pocketed it.

    *        *        *        *

A couple weeks later:

Torrence sat in the library and looked at the goofy picture of himself in the student paper when a Page brought him out of his reverie.

“Torrence Odwinsen?” said the bluish gray hared page.

“Yes.” He answered.

“Your uncle is here and would like to see you.” She said.

“Uncle? I don’t have an…” he was interrupted.

“Mister Robin Loxley, he is waiting in the alumni hall.” Torrence thought about it, and he was positive his father hadn’t had any surviving siblings…

“Oh, No…” he groaned. “It can’t be…”

    *        *        *        *

Mister Robin Loxley sat on a metric ton of Gold Bullion with an impish grin as The Norse God of Thunder, Lightning, and War entered the secluded room closing the door behind him.

“What do you want, Loki?” Torrence asked gruffly.

The affronted Loxley answered him. “Is that any way to speak to your only living family?”

Torrence took a threatening step towards the man on the gold pile. “You’re not exactly family, remember?”

“Pish, posh, and all those details. I was your father’s blood brother after all. Not to mention that you haven’t seen me in over a thousand years, so I thought I would stop by for an official visit.”

“I haven’t seen you… meaning you have seen me.” Torrence said matter-of-factly.

“Of course.” Loxley beamed.

“The gates were barred, frozen, and rusted shut.” The man known currently as Loxley gave Thor a look.

“Presuming that the gates are the only way in and out of ol’ homey Valhalla?” Torrence blinked and covered his face with one of his large hands. “Oh my. How long did it take you to get them open again?”

“About a year of constant work. What else was I going to do? I was bored.”

Loxley chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm.” He slapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Are we all ready to begin converting the masses over to the one true faith?” Loki asked with a gleam in his eye.

Annoyed, Torrence looked at him, then sagged inwardly with a sigh. “No. There’d be no point. Dad’s gone.”

“Well, he never did go in for all that adoration mumbo jumbo. But having people remember the old ways is a goodness.”

“It’s over.” Thor spoke with finality. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to have to fight that dammed snake again, or another one like it. The last one dammed near killed me, remember?”

“That doesn’t sound like the Mighty Bore I once knew and loved. Why I remember the time we had to get My Hammer back from that awful giant Thrym, and I convinced you to wear a wedding dress and marry him!”  Loki chuckled.

Torrence bristled. “My hammer you mean, just because you took the specifications to the dwarven smith then bilked him out of his payment doesn’t make it yours… and besides, marrying a giant? That kind of thing is only legal in Massachusetts, these days.” Loxley blinked, then fell over backward off the gold cackling and howling with laughter!

Gasping for breath Loxley righted himself against the pile. “Now I know you’re the boy I knew and loved… your sense of humor is coming back.” Torrence looked pained and lowered his head. “What’s the matter?” Loki asked.

“I…” he paused. “I’m still not recovered from the snake. Jormungand’s poison is still in my system and I’m still fighting it.” He paused “Loki, I’m… I’m not sure I will ever be back to ‘normal’, not after that.” He shifted his weight back and forth between feet for a moment. “I locked a part of me away in my head. A part I’m not ready for yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for it in this lifetime, nor maybe the next.”

Loki looked in Thor’s eyes and sighed. “Well, that would explain a lot. Why you didn’t come down riding your chariot with those dammed goats tossing thunder and lightning like the old days.” He sighed “Why you didn’t feel it when your father died.”

Loki, some times known as the Prince of Mischief, God of Chaos, Mister Robin Loxley, and all around good guy to have at a stuffy party, sighed.

“Aunghadhail is here, you know.”

Torrence looked up. “The Fey Queen? No, I didn’t know.”

“Yes, or at least her avatar, or whatever they are calling them these days, is. Over in Poe cottage. Haven’t you seen her around? The vibrant redhead?”

“Um, no. I’ve been kinda tied up with school work and hanging out with the guys in Twain.”

“You should have. They are the ones that mixed it up with the ninjas that first week.”

Torrence blinked. “The Negligee Nightforce? She was one of them?”

Loki/Loxley nodded. “You should at least go over and say hello to her, but I suggest you not challenge her or anything… not in your condition anyway.” Torrence considered this. “Also watch out for the little gothling that she hangs out with… She is a Class X entity.” Torrence blinked.

“There’s one of THEM here?”

“And bound by blood to Aunghadhail no less.”

“Oh my. But, but, didn’t Aunghadhail and her kin…”

“Yes. That makes it even more interesting. So, I watch, and I listen, but I don’t do much anymore. These mortals can get into 15 different kinds of trouble without my help… not as much fun, but I’m getting older and trying to settle down.”

Thor snorted. “Riiiiiight.” Loki, or Loxley if you will, chuckled.

Thor looked Loki right in the eye. “The histories said you were dead.”

Loki shrugged. “Who writes the histories, Thor? The Survivors, that’s who. I survived, so I wrote myself out of them. I needed a break for a while.”

Thor snorted then thought for a bit. “You going to be around for a little while?”

Loki smiled fondly. “I am always around for you, Thor.”

Torrence nodded. “I know how to find you then. I got to get back to class. See you around, not too often though.”

As Thor the Mightiest of War Gods strode from the room, Loki lent back against the pile of gold and thought. His favorite saying coming back to his mind, and how appropriate it was.

“May you live in interesting times.” He spoke after the door closed behind Thor.

The Hand-maiden of the Tao with Destinies Wave was here, the Star Stalker was here, the Killieth was here, Aunghadhail was here, the Soke No Do was here, and Thor had returned to Midgard. Yes, it was going to be very interesting times for a while.

    *        *        *        *

ARC Laboratories, Arkham, Mass

“Whatcha got, Bert?” the technician asked handing over a coffee.

“Look at this. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He pulled his eyes away from the microscope in the Bio-Hazard lab.

“Ok, Bert.” He took off his glasses and looked into the devise. “Wholly mother of god. What the fuck is that?”

“That, James,” Bert said “is the single nastiest snake venom I have ever run across in my entire life.”

“Snake?” James pulled away from the microscope. “You sure?” Bert nodded.

“Cross checked against every known sample on file. It’s the mother of all snakes and the most deadly. And if it’s what I think it is, it’s been dead for over a thousand years.”

“Well, what the heck are you doing with a sample of this fucker for?”

“It came out of a blood sample from a student up at the Academy.” Bert said with a perfectly strait face. James’ eyes went wide.

“How quick did they die? What were the symptoms?” Bert shook his head.

“Not only is he not dead, he is in the bloom of health.”

“What?”

“That single molecule of venom is so toxic if we were exposed to the same air as it, we’d be dead already. And it came out of a living student in perfect health.” Bert took out a cigarette pack and lit one up. “One liquid ounce of that stuff could kill every living thing on the face of this planet.”

“Oh my fucking God…”

    *        *        *        *

Torrence sneezed. Rubbing his nose he had the nagging feeling that someone was talking about him.

    *        *        *        *

Lunch Time, The Next Day

Nikki ‘Fey’ Reilly was sitting unusually alone, about to daintily dip into her salad when the flowers arrived. Unlike most flowers that were delivered to her, these were still in the pot.

“Living flowers for a living Queen.” A deep rich baritone intoned with a smile. Nikki looked up and then frowned.

“Oh, it’s you.” Aunghadhail said not bothering to not be condescending.

“A pleasure, My Queen, to see you too.” Thor took a seat opposite the Sidhe Queen.

“Reports claim you died at Ragnarok, it actually raised the median IQ of the planet somewhat.”

Torrence pouted. “I’m not that bad. I just had things that had to be done. And I did die, for all intents and proposes. I’m still trying to recover from that dammed snakes venom.”

“Try sleeping it off.” Aunghadhail snipped peevishly.

“Did for a millenium or so. Then the rocks got lumpy and I needed to walk it off for a while.”
Aunghadhail stabbed heartlessly at an inoffensive piece of lettuce.

“Look, I just came by to say hello. I’m not trying to start anything or get on your bad side…” she interrupted him.

“It is a little to late for that! After all the work I and my kin did to rid the world of Them, and you and our ilk go and muck around like a bunch of johnnie-come-latelyies.” She sniffed derisively.

Thor sighed.

“I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. And the rules said I had a bunch of stupid crap to do.” He shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have a whole hellova lot of say in how the histories were written now did I?”

“Fortunately not.”

Thor sighed. “So… what’s this about a Class X…” he was interrupted again.

“She’s mine!” Aunghadhail growled, leaning threateningly over her salad. Thor held up a hand.

“No interest, just asking. How’d she come about being bound to you in blood?” A savage radish was stabbed and made to suffer a cruel, cruel fate.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Some people who don’t bother to read labels before trying medication. That sort of thing.”

Torrence chuckled.

“You have made your peace offering, now I wish to finish my lunch in peace.” She ignored him as she ate.
After a moment Thor stood, bowed slightly and left.

No inroads were made, but at least she didn’t flay him alive, or worse… publicly humiliate him.

    *        *        *        *

Mid October:

“What’s with the suit and stupid cape, Tor?” Raydan asked as he stood to walk out of their room.

“It’s the costume I’m going to wear to the Halloween dance. You like it?” Torrence asked turning to look at himself in the mirror. “I made it in Home… I, in costuming class. I thought it’d be slightly more appropriate than bearskin and Chain-mail. Of course I’d prefer the bearskin and chain, but it’s hard to dance in.”

“You? Dance?” Raydan started laughing. “Looks like you stole it off the cover of some comic book.”

“Mighty Thor, First Edition. I have it hanging up in my room at home. Dad won’t let me read it.”

“Dude, ya know, the spandex pants make you looks gay.” Raydan chuckled.

“I’ll sue the artists for likeness infringements and defamation of character.” Torrence pouted.

Raydan sighed. “You’re taking this ‘Norse god’ thing too seriously, Tor. No one believes you’re actually Thor, ya know that, right?”

Torrence again pouted “I believe it.”

“Just because you think so, don’t make it true, Tor.” And the door closed behind his roommate.

Torrence adjusted the front of his shirt as the door to his room opened again.

“Hey, Euro-trash, where’s the goth going this time?”

“It’d be nice if you knocked once in a while Dustin.”

“Round-eye don’t knock to come in my room, why must I for him?”

“The difference is your door is always open, Dustin.”

Dustin “The Wind” snorted. “If you lived with ‘The Spleen’ you’d keep your doors and windows open all the time, too.”

“’Gas-Master’ again? I thought that he was taking his pills before bed.” Torrence pinched the bridge of his nose.

“He does, but he also eat like fat round-eye slob.”

“Dustin, you eat every bit as much as he does, more I would guess.”

“I not get odiferous like ‘ass-master’ does and stink cottage out of roof!”

“I’ll talk to him again. See if I can get him to lay off the Tex-mex for dinner, and knock off the fake fortune cookie talk, would you? It gets annoying after a while.”

“Hey, it’s a ‘personae’ thing, people come to expect it from me.” Dustin “The Wind” Dragonne shrugged and turned to leave. “What’s with the Blue Spandex? You going Gay on us, Tor?”

    *        *        *        *

The tree splintered into a thousand pieces as Torrence came crashing through it, landing in a heap just beyond it’s ruins. He sat up and rubbed his cheek for a second until the golden-skinned Amazon that had hit him came charging after him.

Thor sprang to his feet and charged Hippolyte, punching her square in the jaw and sending her right back where she had just came from a moment ago.

Screams of “BRICK FIGHT!” rang around the campus as wise spectators fled, and the unwise spectators  gathered closer.

Blows were exchanged, property was damaged, and that was just the warm up. Torrence threw a punch with hardly an ounce more force than he needed, but it was enough for Hippolyte to dodge, grab his wrist, and flip him flat on his back. She pinned his arms to his sides with her thighs and was about to deliver a massive blow to his jaw when there was a polite, but very powerful “Eh Hem!” from just beside them.

They turned their heads and saw an older looking white guy standing there amongst the ruins.

“Please get off him.” The guy said.

Hippolyte lowered her hand and looked down at Torrence, then she got up.

“She started it…” Torrence pouted rubbing his jaw as picked himself up.

“He started it by having the balls to ask me…” she stopped and glared at Torrence.

Fubar looked back and forth between them and then said “Yes? He asked, what?”

“I asked if she would like to go to the Halloween dance with me. That’s when she hit me.”

“I don’t date your kind.”

“One dance won’t kill you.”

“No, but I’ll Kill you if you try to ask me Anything ever again!”

“Children! That’s Enough!” Fubar snapped.

“She started it…”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Hippolyte raised her fists to begin the argument anew.

“I Said Enough! Hippolyte! Home, Now.” Fubar pointed at Torrence as Hippolyte stomped off. “You, Back off. Or your quarrel becomes my quarrel.”

Torrence took a deep breath and snorted.

“I only asked her, because she’s about the only girl on campus I thought might be worthy enough to be able to stand up to me on a fight.”

“Funny standards you have. Next time I advise you to try asking her first.”

“I did ask her. She punched me for it.” Torrence turned his back and strode away.

    *        *        *        *

Torrence was doing homework for his College English class while listening to a bit of music his roommate had introduced him to… and was now very much regretting. Raydan was on his bed with a pillow over his head, finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“For god’s Sake Tor! Turn the Wagner Down! 87 renditions of ‘Flight of the Valkyries’ in a row is enough already!”

“It’s a Norse.” Tor replied over the thundering music.

“What’s a Norse?” perplexed, Raydan asked, already knowing he’d regret it.

"A Norse is a Norse, of course of course...” chuckled Torrence to Raydan’s derisive groans as he turned the music down a notch or two.

“The next time I hear that song I’m electrocuting your ass, Tor.” Raydan said as he stormed out of the room.

Dustin stuck his head in the door. “Oh, Euro-trash turn Wagner down already. Good.”

“Why do you always call me that, Dustin? We’ve been friends since the start of the school year and you could at least TRY to not talk like bad fortune cookie.”

“I not W.A.S.P. like you. I honorable Chinese citizen with 7 thousand years of history. You people only discover fire 300 years ago.”

“I’m not Protestant, Dustin. Nor am I Anglo-Saxon. I’m Norse and Asatru.”

“Yeah, well beagle looks like basset to a Dragonne.” Dustin beamed a smile. He was always overly proud of working his heritage into any conversation, and if he could include his family name all the better did he consider his victory. He spun and strutted out of the room, scalp-lock flowing behind him.

    *        *        *        *

November 1st, early morning. ‘Devils Dancing around my head.’

Torrence sat against the wall with an icepack on the back of his neck. Raydan sat next to him with an electrical cord stuck between his teeth and plugged into the wall.

“Some Halloween party, eh?” Raydan asked around his charging cord. Torrence grunted. “The bands were good.” Torrence grunted again. “What happened to you? I kinda lost track of you when the gas hit and those jerks attacked? I don’t remember seeing you in the fray.”

“Dunno. Flash of light. Woke up outside. Pain. Big hole in wall.” Torrence muttered, pointing vaguely in the direction of the hole he’d made involuntarily.

“One of the attackers had a 50caliber BMG and shot The Mighty Bore here right in the stomach. Blew him clear through the wall.” Someone commented as they limped past.

“Aw, man. I always miss the ‘fun’ parties…” Torrence groaned and shifted the icepack again.

“50BMGs’ll do that.” Raydan commented plugging himself back in.

    *        *        *        *

A couple days later

Torrence was walking along the path singing softly to himself for no apparent reason, oblivious to the people around him.

Two girls who just happened to be sitting on one of the benches overheard him.

“Oh Gawd…” said the hooded squirrel-girl.

“What’s wrong?” asked the pony-girl right next to her

The hooded squirrel-girl jerked her thumb over at Torrence “Mighty Bore there has his own ‘theme music’.”

Torrence continued walking and singing “Believe it or not, I'm walking on air. I never thought I could feel so free eee eee. Flying away on a wing and a prayer. Who could it be? Believe it or not it's just me!”

    *        *        *        *

November 22, late afternoon.

Torrence was jogging around the campus, he had a lot on his mind and he needed the alone time to figure it out.

MID’s, Mutant ID card provided by the Mutant Control… Mutant Commission Office, were required to continue at the school after Thanksgiving.

How should he register? No one believed him that he was really the god Thor, so what of the dissemblage that the staff had come up with as an alternate explanation? That he was a high level avatar with “The Thor Force?” as his spirit helper?

That was easily believed by most people, and he had to admit, if he really wasn’t Thor he could easily believe it too.

Come to think about it, his public insistence that he was Thor, despite the fact that he actually was, sounded just like his son Magni’s insistence that he was better than Modi at riding horse. Regardless of the obvious evidence from his children’s childhood that Modi never once fell off his horse. Magni had once or twice to his embarrassment.

He circled around the backside of the campus near Hawthorn Cottage.

Torrence didn’t want to leave, he felt like he belonged here. He belonged with these people that were more like him than any others on Midgard right now.

Even his own followers.

He was beginning to hear their prayers again, their adoration. People still believed in him despite a thousand years of silence.

There were nowhere near as many of them anymore, but there were still more than a few out there. He just wasn’t ready to let them know he was still around yet.

His absence had left the Norse open to their fall, and subsequent conversion to christanity, but there were always a few that held to The Olde Ways or rediscovered them.

Being a god was as much a burden as it was a pleasure, he just wished his father was still around to consult when he was confused. Odin’s wisdom was ageless, and he missed his father.

“Aw, crap. I forgot dad’s birthday yesterday!” he trundled to a stop and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for home.

    *        *        *        *

The students were kneeling around the Dojo, allowing the sparing match to take up as much room as they needed. Both contestants were moving blurs, one speedster, one Ki-Master.

Dustin “The Wind” Dragonne was getting frustrated as he ran up a wall and across the ceiling, Chaka right behind him with a feral grin on her face. They’d been sparring for at least 65 seconds and he still had not hit her even once, and she’d slapped the snot out of him several times.

He stopped in the middle of the ceiling, spun on his heel to kick her, and caught a fist in the teeth as he fell to the floor for his trouble.

As he landed he felt a foot catch him in the ribs and he was flying across the room before he felt the impact.

CLANG! The red cage shut around him as he fell to the floor again.

"DUDE, you totally ran into my fist! Do you know how RUDE that is?" Toni “Chaka” Chandler chuckled with a big evil grin.

Dustin groaned. Loosing to a girl was bad enough, loosing to a girl on a regular basis was worse… but not as bad as listening to her jibes afterward.

Chaka jerked her thumb over her shoulder as she turned away.

"Book him, Dano!" she chimed cheerfully.

“Ito Sensei… not ‘Dano’.” Muttered the teacher.

Dustin got to his feet and Torrence could see the bruised ego from across the room.

"I so not make egg-roll for your birthday!" Toni spun around and slinked over to the cage still holding the irate speedster.

"Okay, you're the fastest man alive- or at least, that's what the graffiti in the girls' room says." She smiled as Dustin reddened, then turned away to her spot on the mat.

“Now that I’m nice and warmed up, who’s next?” she bounced.

    *        *        *        *

“Even Ito Sensei respects her talents, Dustin, don’t take it soo personally.” Torrence temporized.

“I no wanna loose anymore. I wanna beat her! How the hell does she move so fast? I never even saw that last kick coming and I didn’t feel it till I was already in the cage.” Dustin spoke almost, but not quite, with awe for Toni “Chaka” Chandler’s impressive martial arts abilities.

“I can’t answer that, Dustin. I’m only a God, you know.” Torrence chuckled.

“Not funny. I need to know how she does that. I need to find away around it so I can at least hit her once! MAN! I’d settle for hitting her just once! Fair and square.”

“She took on Montana and defeated him fair and square. Monties a lot bigger than you are.”

Dustin stopped and looked back towards the Dojo. “Someday, someday I’ll hit her.”

“Lofty goals, Dustin. But you’ll just have to accept that mere mortals cannot measure up to true masters.”

Dustin snorted and stopped dead in his tracks again. “You using fortune cookie against me! You No Fair!” Torrence fell over laughing!

    *        *        *        *

Ah, Breakfast. The most important meal of the day for energizers, big eaters, and most of the student population. Torrence was sharing a table with Dustin “The Wind” as usual, Blaza (a ghostly outline of a male human filled with the rolling nuclear fires of the sun held within) which was not uncommon, and Raydan, his roommate, which was almost unheard of.

The day was heavy overcast and intermittent rains, so having Blaza at the table dispelled the gloom. There was something about having a 6foot tall shielded sentient nuclear fire with you at the table that made you feel warm all over… Literally. During the winter months Blaza was usually asked to sit with the girls that always seemed to be cold, he had that kinda rep. Platonic and soothing warm aura about him.

He also couldn’t speak, so he had the skinny on the latest gossip, as long as you understood American Sign Language.

“My soups getting cold, would you mind holding it a minute, Blaza?” asked Dustin. Blaza set down his helium bottle and took the bowl in his hand. A few moments later it started to bubble.

Torrence was working on a side of Mutton and a mixing bowl sized chef salad. He eyed the plastic jug that was supposed to have his milk in it with suspicion. It had a store label on it. Doris, the lunch lady, had told Torrence that it was just as good as fresh goats milk but easier to handle in the gallon jug. He was unconvinced.

‘Well, all for it’ he thought taking a pull.

“SPLURGLE! Cough!! cough!”

“What the hell, Tor?!?” Raydan screamed as he’d taken the blast of milk right in the face.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry! Someone switched my milk and I wasn’t expecting it to be that bad!” Raydan got up, his lone glass of water forgotten, and stormed away with a tail of milk leaking off of him. Even more angry now than he was when he found out they had changed his milk order on him, he stormed up to the lunch line, his eyes as gray as the sky, and several extra rumbles of thunder for emphasis.

On his way up to the lunch counter he didn’t notice the two Japanese girls that he bumped into, knocking one of them over. One he knocked over had jade earrings, and the other girl was very pale.

Before he could do more than open his mouth, Doris the lunch lady held up her hand.

“I know, but before you say it… well. Gracie broke both her front legs last night.” Torrence’s face fell. “The vet said she was getting too old and would need to be put down.”

“But…” Torrence tried to get a word in edge wise, but the lunch lady pointed to a table populated only with a goth girl who had the goat in a cage. As Torrence turned to look he saw the goat dissolve into cobalt-blue salts. His lip trembled as he looked back to Doris. “I didn’t even get to say good bye.” Doris patted his arm.

“I know, but life is like that some times.” She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. “We’ll be looking to get you a new goat soon. Till then, that stuff is the best we can do.” She pointed to the jug in his hand.

Sheepishly Torrence turned to go back to his table, picking up a mop and bucket in his other hand and was met eye to eye with a very pale Japanese girl.

“You knocked my sister and I over with your carelessness.” She said in an even and level voice. Torrence cringed and stammered out an apology.

“I’m, I’m sorry I… I didn’t see you there, I… I didn’t mean it.” He massive bulk sagging in on himself in embarrassment. She looked at him a moment.

“I believe you, but you need to be more careful from now on.” She floated back down to the floor, turned around and walked over to the table with the goat’s empty cage. The table was filled with girls now, including Aunghadhail and Chaka, who had recently handed Dustin his rear yet again. He also noted a lovely girl with pale blue hair, but he had a mess he needed to clean up.

“Aw man! You burned my soup!” Dustin protested to Blaza who had forgotten the bowl of soup that had now melted in his hand as Torrence got back to the table. Blaza just shrugged and handed it back.

*        *        *        *

Macondo Cisneros was 5 foot 6 inch and a junior. He thought he was all that and a bag of chips. He preferred people to call him Mondo, it made him feel big… it also helped that he could double his size almost at will. He could also get half his original size but he never did that in public at school. His weight increased or decreased proportionally with his size, as did his strength.

Of course so did his ego. When he got smaller he got positively Nepoleonic.

Mondo bumped into Torrence in the lavatory while Torrence was attempting to remove the three hairs that had taken up residence on his chin.

“Joo know, I think I likes joo better as a blonde.” He commented to Torrence in an off hand manner which usually meant he was about to either get someone in trouble, or get them to make a sucker bet.

“I’m not blonde.” Torrence muttered.

“I know. But I likes joo better as a blonde. Make you a bet…” He grinned “joo lose and joo go blonde for a month.” Torrence stopped attempting to shave and looked at Mondo. He’d heard a thing or two about the boy’s bets. No one had ever proved he’d cheated, but he also never lost.

“And if I win?” Mondo shrugged. Torrence thought about it as he looked Mondo over. He recalled once or twice seeing Mondo with at least 6 different hair care products. Yeah, turn about is fair play. “If I win then you have to Nair your entire body for a month.” Mondo’s eyes went wide. “Head to toe.”

“Joo on Frosh!” They shook on it. “Now, how about an old fashioned arm wrestle?” Mondo sneered. He’d double his size and get leverage, if he could out muscle Torrence that is.

“Better Idea. We’ll do your arm wrestle, best of three?” Mondo knodded. “Good, cause I have two more challenges to add to it.” Mondo was a little unsure of himself now.

“Likes what?”

Torrence Smiled.

*        *        *        *

Dustin “The Wind” held their fists on the arm wrestle table and looked back and forth. “Ok, for the tie breaker, you two ready?”

Both Mondo and Torrence answered “Yes.”

“Three, two, one, GO!” Dustin pulled his hands back quickly. Arms bulged, sweat poured down Mondo’s oversized face, Torrence had a look of total concentration. Neither were able to get even the slightest movement for the first 15 seconds, nearly half the time it took for the last match. Slowly Torrence started to loose ground. Slowly, painfully, Torrence’s wrist bent and touched the pad, and the crowd cheered!

Torrence and Mondo released hands and rubbed their left arms trying to get the blood flowing again, both contestants smiling at each other.

“Dam, Mano! You good!”

“Not good enough apparently.” Chuckled Torrence, they offered their Right hands and shook. “That’s one for you.”

“Yeah. What’s next?”

Torrence grinned evilly. “Lunch!”

    *        *        *        *

“Joo have GOT to be kidding me…” Mondo looked at the table ladened with food. No, not ladened, positively heaping with food.

“Oh, good. They got the order. MAN! I’m hungry!” Torrence rubbed his hands together.

“Your order?” Mondo asked.

“Yeah, I had Dustin call ahead and tell them what was going on so they could get enough food made up ahead of time. Wouldn’t wanna deprive any energizers of their mid-day meal, would you?”

“Uh, no, I guess not.” Mondo took a seat on the other side of Torrence.

“Ok, there’s a line down the middle of the table, and each side has one hundred pounds of food. You keep to your side and I’ll keep to mine. The person that packs away the most food wins!” Mondo gulped.

Dustin “The Wind” pulled up a chair with a stopwatch. Mondo looked at him nervously.

“What’s that for?” Dustin shrugged.

“Got bets on line. Keeping track of how long it takes.” He reset his stopwatch. “Get ready! Get Set! GO!”

They started eating like sharks in a feeding frenzy.

    *        *        *        *

An hour and a half later

The carnage was excessive. Empty plates and the ruin of many many meals covered the battleground, and fell upon the floor around the combatants. Mondo looked at the mixing-bowl full of Jell-O with great trepidation. It had little leafy bits and fruit suspended in it. It was the last thing on his side of the table.

“You gunna eat that?” Torrence asked from his side of the table around the last bite of German-Chocolate cake, there was nothing left for him to eat. Mondo felt he stomach reel at the idea.

“Uh, no. I don’t think I can.”

“You sure? I wouldn’t want people to think I cheated by eating your food.” Torrence was smirking.

“No, I’m…” Mondo’s stomach rumbled in protest again. “I’m sure.” He pushed the Jell-O across the line towards Torrence.

“Do you yield?” Torrence asked as he stuffed the first shovel full of Jell-O into his mouth. He heard Mondo’s stomach reply for him as Mondo turned green with the thought of eating another bite.

“On this one… yes.” There was a cheer from the Twain students that had gathered around them.

“One for one! Next, the Tie Breaker!” Dustin exclaimed to the contestants.

    *        *        *        *

“Axis and Allies? What’s this, some sorta joke, Mano?” Mondo was incredulous.

“Tactics and strategy, Mr. Cisneros, tactics and strategy. Every super-hero team needs to be flexible to any given situation. Every leader needs to improvise, adapt, and over-come. Some people play chess, others play Risk, some even play ‘Diplomacy’.” Torrence pointed to the board. “This looks like it’d be a LOT more fun. Modern warfare. Tanks, jeeps, and carriers, Oh my!” he grinned.

“Joo know how to play?”

“Uh, no… I was hoping you’d know and teach me before we started.”

“I never even heard of it before.” Torrence frowned.

“Ok, I guess we’ll have to read the rules first.”

    *        *        *        *

Midnight, Twain Cottage rec-room

The Blitzkrieg reigned supreme. The massive might of the German Army roamed the eastern world and made inroads into North America. The Afrikkan Corps controlled the northern half of Africa as far as Madagascar. Imperial Japan and Germany had cut the Soviet Union in half and hanged Stalin from his own statue in Red Square. Chairman Mao knelt at the feet of the Japanese Emperor. The pacific fleet was smashed, and South America was heavily contested.

The Allies had met their match. Mondo sighed. He was loosing, and he knew it. It had taken hours to whittle his forces down, and despite early wins and counter-attacks, it was a simple matter of attrition. He didn’t have the numbers or the luck of the dice to win.

“I surrender.” Mondo threw up his hands. The cheer woke up anyone foolish enough to be sleeping.

Dustin “The Wind” stepped forward taking Torrence’s wrist in his hand, and raised it over Torrence’s head.

“The Winner and Champion! The War God Thor!” more cheers. After the noise died down a little bit Torrence offered his hand to his vanquished foe. Mondo took it without hesitation and smiled as he shook it.

“Good game mano, good game.” He said.

“Best of three games?” Torrence offered with a gleam in his green eyes. Mondo chuckled.

“Nah, getting whipped once was enough.”

“No hard feelings?”

“Joo said neither of use could cheat, I’d likes to know how… now that it’s over that is.”

Fubar appeared beside them with a smile. “You two do know it’s very late on a school night, don’t you?”

“Just finishing up, Foob, and heading to bed.” Torrence smiled. “Everything on the up and up?” Fubar shrugged.

“A couple of Tk’ers tried to alter the dice or move pieces. I made sure they knew I wouldn’t appreciate that.” He smiled.

“So, I lost fair and square. Cool.”

“Bed Time.” Fubar insisted.

“But, I’m hungry, I skipped diner for this!” Torrence protested.

“What? After that lunch your still Hungry?” Mondo was incredulous. Torrence shrugged.

“I’m still a growing boy, I need my sustenance.”

    *        *        *        *

It was a dark and stormy night, the rain was ice-cold as it fell in a torrential downpour. Raeburn Anderdin Eugene Danforth sat on a park bench soaked to the bone. He was crying but you could only tell that by the way his shoulders shook, he was trying to be quite about it. A shadow from the streetlight fell across his knees, he looked up.

“What do you want?” Raydan asked his roommate.

“Nuffin. Just coming out to see if you were ok.” Torrence answered. He’d only been outside a minute and was completely soaked, but then again, his was a little more used to the cold and wet than most school kids.

“I’m fine. Go away.” Raydan hugged his knees closer to him to try and get warm as he rocked back and forth in the rain. Torrence looked at his roommate with pity in his eyes.

“I know a way to warm you up, if you like.” Torrence reached out a hand and a lightning bolt obediently fell into his grasp. He held it like a javelin and presented it to Raydan. Raydan blinked at the blinding white light of the lightning bolt, then up into his roommate’s warm smile. Slowly he reached out a hand and absorbed the bolt. He steamed slightly and gave a weak smile.

“Thanks.” Torrence returned the smile and sat next to his roommate.

“No problemo.” He sighed. “Wanna talk about it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Raydan pouted, sulking again.

“This is Whateley, you’d be surprised what I’d understand.” Raydan snorted. He had a point, all kinds of weird things were considered ‘normal’ here. Hell, it was a school for mutants after all. How weird was that?

“You’ve seen the ads and shows on TV, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Commercials, shows, music, news, movies… everywhere it’s sex, sex, sex!” he was quite for a moment. Torrence spoke thinking he knew what was the matter.

“Look, I know you have a crush on that Japanese girl from Poe, but you gotta give it time. I’m sure that…” he was interrupted.

“No! NO! NO! NO!” Raydan jumped up from the bench and blasted a branch off a nearby tree with a bolt of pure electricity. “That’s not it at all!” he spun and threw another bolt at the light-post behind Torrence. Torrence grabbed it in his off hand. It wiggled and writhed in his hand.

“You want this back?” he asked in a flat voice. Raydan stared at him a moment speechless. With a tightening of his eyes, which had just started to go gray, he dispersed the bolt.

“How did you do that?” Torrence shrugged.

“You know how I’m always telling you guys that I’m really Thor, the Norse God?” Raydan knodded. “Well, I’m not making it up.” Raydan snorted and sat back down on the bench.

“No one believes that but you, Tor.” Torrence nodded.

“I know, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Raydan was quite for a bit. “There. I told you my big secret… now it’s your turn. What’s your big secret. Come on, I’m a God, you can tell me.”

Raydan considered for a few moments.

“I can’t have sex.” Torrence waited, that didn’t explain anything and interrupting again would only confuse things and anger his roommate. After a few more moments Raydan finally spoke again, rain pouring down his face hiding the tears from his completely black eyes. “Ever notice I don’t eat anything? I only drink water. I haven’t tasted a cheeseburger in over two years. I can’t eat my own birthday cake, and mom always gets Boston Cream Pie, my favorite.” He sniffled. “I… I no longer have genitalia, Tor. I can’t take a shit, I can’t piss. All I consume is water, electricity, air, and space.” He hung his head.

Torrence’s eyes watered, and not from the rain. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Raydan cried for a little while, then looked up into Thor’s eyes. “You say you’re a god, right?” Torrence nodded. “Is there anything you can do about this?” Torrence sighed and shook his head.

“I’m not that kinda God, Ray. I mainly just break people and hurt things…” Torrence waved his hand absently. “You know, that whole ‘War God’ thing.” He reached up and grabbed another lightning bolt from the sky and handed it over to Raydan. “I cannot heal what’s not broken. You’ve changed, you’ve changed for a reason, Ray. Yeah, you’re different. That’s hard, but look around, Ray. There are 600 other kids here that are just as different as you are. Sure, some if not most could pass in public for ‘normal’ but what is normal anyway? I’m a God and I don’t know what this mystical concept of ‘normal’ is.” Torrence sighed. “I’ve met people that believe they should only share their bed with the same gender as they are. I’ve met people who’s bodies didn’t match the gender their soul was. I saw a girl who has almost completely turned into a snake… but I stayed WAY the hell away from her.” Torrence chuckled at his own fear, it was about the only way he could deal with it without freaking out.

“I’m not like every one else, Tor.” Torrence nodded.

“You’re right. You are different… just like every one else here.”

“How am I supposed to approach Jade if… I… if I don’t…” Torrence squeezed his friends shoulder.

“Don’t have any expectations, for one. Next try just being her friend… if you can get around her big sister that is… she’s a Ghost or something.”

“She’s a gadgeteer and I’m an energizer, Tor. I’d fry her toys.”

“Oh, I have the feeling that her ‘toys’ can stand a bit more punishment that you think, Ray.”

Torrence thought for a moment. Then got up and walked over to the branch Raydan had blasted off the tree in anger. It wasn’t a very big branch, maybe a meter long. He turned around and held it up over his head and called the lightning down shouting in Old Norse. Archaic light filled the campus as bolt after bolt rained down onto the branch in Thor’s hands, stripping the bark from it, burning away most of the wood, leaving only the heart of the branch, about fourteen inches long, coal black in his hands, and crackling with energy.

Thor took his mechanist hammer from his belt with his left hand and tapped the branch a few times to shake the detritus off it. Sparks jumped every time the cold forged iron touched the wand.

Raydan’s eyes went wide when Thor stepped up and handed it to his friend.

“What is it?” Torrence shrugged.

“Consider it a battery backup. Keep it in your belt or backpack for when you need it. To recharge it you can either discharge into it before bed, or plant it in the ground during lightning storms, but I wouldn’t leave it unattended… Magical Items have a tendency to walk away when that happens.”

“Magic? I thought you didn’t use magic.” Torrence shrugged.

“Any technology sufficiently advanced shale appear as to be as magic to the uninitiated.” Raydan snorted.

“That wasn’t technology.” Torrence shook his head.

“Nope, but it was a good comeback, wouldn’t you say?” Torrence smiled and Raydan chuckled, then turned his attention to the wand in his hands. “If you carve it, use only a pure silver dagger or knife. If you etch it with metal I’d suggest True Silver, or Mitheral as some call it… and only do that sparingly.”

“Why?”

“Mitheral is bloody fucking expensive, that’s why. Like $30,000 an ounce!” The rain pounded down around them for a while. Torrence shuddered. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to get cold. Let’s go inside.” Raydan snorted.

“So much for your claims of facing down blizzards in Jutland.” Torrence shrugged.

“Hey, It’s been a thousand years, I’m outta practice.” Torrence said as he got up to walk back to the cottage, his friend and roommate close behind him.

    *        *        *        *

The Next Morning

“ENERGIZER IN THE SHOWER!” someone screamed, there was a trample of feet as naked boys ran from the shower as Raydan stepped in, chuckling to himself.

Torrence was just lathering up in the corner and looked over as Raydan was talking off his towel.

“Why do you do that, Ray?” he asked as he worked on scrubbing his ankles.

“I prefer to be alone while I’m showering… to hide… well, you know.” He said slightly embarrassed.

Torrence did know. And didn’t say anything. He tried to keep his eyes off his roommate, and the steam helped with that. He knew full well his roommates secret, and understood how most of the boys would treat him if they knew. So he didn’t comment on his roommates little deception.

It also helped that electricity didn’t affect Torrence the way it affected everyone else. Being a God had advantages.

    *        *        *        *

December 21st

Torrence was sitting in his father’s chair. ‘Wow!’ he thought to himself as his mother brought him a gallon of goat’s milk. ‘I’m sitting in dad’s chair and my mom just brought me a drink!’ He still wasn’t sure of he should be nervous or not. His dad had gone into work to take care of a small problem on the assembly line for the third shift guys that hadn’t negotiated Christmas week off, and here was Torrence sitting in his dad’s chair in the living room with the remote all to himself.

He was almost giddy. He and his mother had never really been close, but he was almost positive she was scared for some reason. He flipped the channels again looking for something even remotely interesting. He found a newscast from Hell’s Kitchen Christmas parade, or at least something along those lines.

Looked like a giant snowman building it’s self in the middle of the park. Torrence took a long pull of milk just as the WMRV reporter Julia Sondergaard whispered “Ymir…” with wide eyes.

“SPLURGLE! Cough!! cough!” Torrence spit his goats milk out and tried to breath again. He took another look at the screen, half covered in dripping milk.

It wasn’t Ymir. Odin had slain Ymir, the proto-giant, and used his body to create the planets in this system, or so his father had told him many eons ago.But it did bear a striking resemblance to any number of frost giants he’d killed back in the olde days. He thought about it a moment. Yeah, about even split of male giants and female giants. He’d asked his wife, Sif, about that once and she had answered “The forces of chaos have a strong female side.”

‘I guess that made me Equal Opportunity before Equal Opportunity was cool.’

“Torrence! Look at the mess you made! Go Get a Towel and clean this mess up, NOW!”

Jumping out of his dad’s chair he hollered “Yes, mother!”

    *        *        *        *

Continued after Christmas Break, stay tuned!