Ragnarok

FIFTY

Midtown, New York, NY

“Black Three!” Deep Blue was shouting into his headset to the helicopter pilot. “The building’s coming down. So are we! Move before you slice us to ribbons!”

King flipped over face first to spread his arms and legs in a classic skydiving stance, as he and Deep Blue fell from the roof of the collapsing Exxon Building. Thankfully, the building tipped away from them, not quite yet to a forty-five degree angle. He watched the helicopter peeling away toward the Time-Life Building fire two rockets at the lower portion of the Exxon Building below him. The rockets sank into the concrete of the building a few hundred feet below him. Stretched out between the underside of the Black Hawk and the impact sites of the two rockets was a black net, reminding King of the nets he had seen at the circus when he was a kid. Only this time, one side of the net was held up by a helicopter, and he was the one falling into it-from the roof of a skyscraper. Also, he had two otherworldly vicious brutes about to fall on top of him and rake his eyes out.

The air squealed with the rending of concrete and steel as the upper twenty floors of the Exxon Building fell over. When it reached a forty-five degree angle, the center of the building sheared, and tore from the hollow space created by its central elevator shafts. Some of the building ripped away and dropped above the heads of the falling dire wolves.

The helicopter dipped, allowing some slack in the net. King heard the distinctive sound of repetitive gunfire. Black Four, the co-pilot, was firing a side-mounted machine gun at the dire wolves above King.

Deep Blue slammed into the net a second before King did. Both men quickly grabbed onto the netting, which was a thin, nylon and elastic substance coated in black threads. The net bounced under the weight of the bodies, but almost as soon as King hit the net, the helicopter rose up and pulled the net taught at a sharp angle, leading up and away from the crumbling Exxon Building.

Then the first pursuing dire wolf, now dead from withering gunfire, smashed into the net and rolled down toward the side of the building, where the net’s rocket-fired mounts had attached. The second dire wolf had been hit, but was still alive and managed to snag the net with a clawed hand.

A ten-story slab of concrete came down next. Completed in 1971, the Exxon Building was the second-tallest building in the Rockefeller Center Plaza, and was also one of the 100 tallest buildings in America, but today it would become another casualty in the war on terror-against both human and otherworldly threats.

The giant slab of falling steel, concrete and glass was almost to the net when the lower portion of the building began its collapse.

“We’re on!” Deep Blue was shouting. “Detach, detach!”

King clung to the netting as the last living dire wolf climbed toward him. Small explosive charges on the net’s mounts detonated in clouds of smoke. The bottom of the net swung away from the Exxon Building with King, Deep Blue and the dire wolf all clinging to it. The dead dire wolf tumbled away as the net swung across West 50 ^th

Street, still some twenty stories in the air. It slammed them into the side of the Time-Life Building, high above its distinctive wavy cement walkway, shattering windows.

King lost a handhold in the impact and dropped a foot lower toward the dire wolf, but his other arm tangled firmly in the netting. The dire wolf was unfazed by the impact, but it stopped moving and held on as the net swung.

The Black Hawk dropped fast and banked hard. The massive chunk of rubble whooshed past, missing the chopper, but snagging the end of the net, which snapped taut. One of the net’s two moorings on the underside of the Black Hawk came loose, sending the net twisting and spinning in the air.

Then the rest of the gigantic piece of building was past them, crashing into the pavement below and sending up a choking plume of dust. The helicopter raced along West 50 ^th, until it was clear of the dust storm.

King looked down. The dire wolf was climbing again. He grabbed onto the net with his other hand and untangled his left. Then he climbed down to meet the dire wolf climbing up. He kicked down with his armor-plated boot, catching the beast in its snout. The thing recoiled and tried to bite King’s foot, then swept a clawed hand up at his leg. King pulled back just in time. He knew the armor would provide some level of protection, but he didn’t know how deep those claws could cut.

The lash ripped a few of the threads of the net, but not enough to pose a problem. He looked up and saw Deep Blue climbing the net toward a small, open access hatch in the bottom of the helicopter.

The Black Hawk reached 7 ^th Avenue and turned a sharp right toward the park, the net swinging away from the banking turn. The lower portion of the net swung out and slammed into a huge billboard on 7 ^th advertising an upcoming Peter Jackson film. The dire wolf dented the board, but didn’t relinquish its grip. King was high enough on the net that only his foot hit the billboard, and he barely felt it through the armored boot.

King climbed while the dire wolf was recovering. When he reached the underside of the Black Hawk, Black Four extended a rope ladder that ran just a few feet out of the hatch. Once King was on the ladder, and off the net, he raised a thumb up to the man. The helicopter swept over Central Park and Black Four disappeared inside the cabin of the helicopter.

High over the park’s lake, the last coupling for the net detached, dropping the net, and the dire wolf, to the water eighty feet below them.

King scrambled up into the moving vehicle just before the helicopter banked hard and circled the lake. King stood just in time to see Black Four manning the port side machine gun again.

The helicopter rolled right and Black Four loosed a barrage into the lake. King looked out the window, watching the dire wolf spasm as. 50 caliber rounds tore into its chest. The pilot circled again before turning north and speeding away from the city.

King turned to Deep Blue and then slid down the side wall of the Black Hawk into a troop-carrying canvas seat. He pulled on a seat belt as Deep Blue did the same. Black Four moved up to the cockpit, climbed over the central console and took his seat next to the pilot.

Deep Blue removed his battered high-tech helmet. His face was drawn and pale. He looked battered, exhausted and much, much older than he was.

Something happened. Something bad.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bishop and Knight. They’re down.”