Quinn shot forward without a warning.

“What are you doing Quinn?” said Bevan, his voice failing to contain the panic he was feeling.

But there was no response from the vehicle. He simply sped towards the man standing in the middle of the road. For a moment, it seemed as though Quinn would run over the descendant of Thor.

Instead, Raiden lifted his hammer like he was lifting an object made out of cardboard and balanced it on his shoulder. He then stepped aside, raising his free hand and pointing it in the direction Quinn was heading. It was as though he was the sole custodian of the road and he was giving permission for passage.

When the car passed by Raiden, Maitho turned around to see him tilt his head to the side, a wide smile plastered on his face.

“You were going to run him over,” said Brigid, her voice contorted to suppress her fury.

“Oh nonsense,” said Quinn, unaffected by the Celtic leader’s tone. “I knew he would step aside.”

“You possess many skills. Predicting the future isn’t one of them.”

“I don’t need to predict, my dear,” said Quinn. “Common sense dictates that he isn't suicidal. Nor would he use his powers in broad daylight where there might be witnesses. Use of godly powers in the open is frowned upon. Usually.”

The sound of tires skidding on the road drew Maitho’s attention. Behind them, an unmarked van had begun its pursuit. “This is too easy for him," he said. "He’s not even trying to follow us. He’s just there where we end up.”

“Before we bring our collective intellectualism together to solve the mystery of Raiden's appearances, any chance we can rid ourselves of our pursuers?” Quinn took a sharp turn. The navigation system showed that he was heading towards the industrial complex. Perhaps he might have guessed that no matter what they do, there is no avoiding a fight. Might as well head to an abandoned part of the area to resolve any conflicts.

“You’re practically bulletproof,” said Bevan.

“Yes, but it does not mean I enjoy being shot at.”

The van entered their streets, nearly skidding at the corner before righting itself. It began to slowly pick up speed. Maitho realized that if they did not stop the van, then they might be facing an overwhelming number of opponents. They had to lose the van and they had to do it soon. The industrial complex was just a couple of minutes away.

“Hold ma hand,” said Epona, looking directly at Maitho.

Her words made little sense to him. But he could see that she had a plan. If that were the case, then he would offer the trust that she needed. He held out his hand, “I got you.”

Epona clasped it tightly. “Open the door on my side Quinn.”

There was no verbal feedback from the car. The door simply opened. Perhaps that was Quinn’s way of showing his support to her. Maitho noticed that the door kept opening until it was pressed against the front door.

Epona leaned outside until her head was close to the road. Maitho could see the tips of her hair brush against the asphalt that sped past her. She raised her hand and pointed the revolver she had been given by Brigid earlier down the side of the car, directly at the incoming van. Looking through the front windshield, Maitho noticed that they were soon approaching a three-way junction. The road split into two directions.

“We’ll be making a turn soon,” said Maitho, raising his voice and giving Epona a warning. His hold on her hand was firm.

Then Epona fired. Maitho watched through the rear windshield as the bullet found its mark in one of the two front tires. The bursting of the tire caused the van to lose control. It careened off the road, it’s sudden maneuvering causing one side to lift up a few feet off the ground. The driver of the van must have realized the danger of motion, as the van suddenly braked to a stop. For a few seconds, the raised section of the van seemed to hover in midair, as though it was refusing to make contact with the ground. Eventually, the vehicle alighted itself and there was no further movement.

“I’m pulling you in,” shouted Maitho, giving the woman a warning.

In response, Epona tucked her hand close to her chest, revolver firm gripped in her palm. It allowed her to avoid bumping her limb accidentally. Maitho pulled, bringing her back into the car. The door closed behind her without any verbal or other commands. Her arrival within the car was none too soon, as Quinn drifted into a turn at the junction. Maitho found his back slammed against the door. His head bumped against the glass window and stars swam in his vision.

“You two okay?” said Quinn.

“Minus the minor headache, everything’s good,” said Maitho.

“You’ll be fine, my dear. Epona?”

“Just focus on the drivin,” came the response from the woman.

“Yep, you are fine as well.”

After about a couple of minutes of driving, the number of buildings began to diminish. Eventually, lands occupied by abandoned factories and warehouses took over. Here and there, rust-covered vehicles, broken machinery, the litter of thousands of humans who had taken this route and other objects that had long ago served their purpose dotted the lonely landscape. Chimneys that had once puked out nitrous oxide, sulfur dioxide or other gases that could rip a hole in the lungs were now standing still, a reminder that nearly everything on this planet has an expiry date. Even the road itself showed signs of becoming a victim to the effects of time. Black asphalt would often give way to dirt, rocks, and sand.

“Where do we go now Maitho?” said Quinn.

There was a warehouse. It was the one with the moss covered crates in front of it. Perhaps the crates might have been moved by the homeless using them for makeshift shelters. Regardless, Maitho remembered it from a time long ago. If only he could spot it.

He eventually did. “That’s the one. On the other side is a dirt road that connects to an exit. Take that exit into the main highway. Change into another car model and you can use the highway traffic to hide you.”

“Time for a quick exit then,” said Quinn. The number on the digital speedometer began to rise. Then it kept rising.

The car wasn’t holding back. If speed was the goal, then Quinn was going to reach it, and then go beyond. Vibrations throughout the car told Maitho that they had left the comfort of straight roads and were running along gravel and dirt.

The entrance to the warehouse that Maitho had pointed consisted of a gate that hung on its hinges, as though they were holding on to dear life for as long as possible. Quinn didn’t slow down.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Bevan.

His remark went unanswered. Instead, the car sped up even more. It crashed through the gate, ripping the metal framework free and sending it spinning through the air.

That was when they noticed the other van heading towards them. The vehicle had simply emerged from inside the warehouse.

“Oh come on. Can Raiden see the future or something?” said Bevan, his eyes transfixed by the appearance of the van, as though he couldn’t believe it was actually there. Instantly, a focused expression materialized on his face. “Stop right here Quinn.”

“And why would I do that, Bevan dear?” came the response from the car.

“Please trust me.”

The car stopped. There wasn’t even a word of resistance. Whatever Bevan had said might have meant something to the car for it to respond in such a manner. Instantly, Bevan stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him. He walked towards the back of the car. By the time he had reached his destination, the trunk door was open. From within, he pulled out a long object covered in cloth.

The Freagarach.

Bevan slammed the trunk shut and ran towards the van. He got down into a crouch and leaped forward. He crossed the distance that was equal to the length of a big rig truck in a single bound, shooting forward like an arrow. For a second, it seemed as though he was going to slam into the van itself.

Instead, Bevan landed away from the path of the van. He pulled the cloth and revealed the sword.

The weapon stood out among the decrepit surroundings of the warehouse. It shone its brilliance, glinting off sunlight like a lost treasure of an unknown civilization.

With the sword in his hand, Bevan seemed to transform. His body was poised. His legs were apart. His torso was twisted to the side in a striking position, sword held in both hands.

It was like watching a timid cat suddenly bare its fangs and claws.

The van braked to a halt, as if that would do it any good. Bevan swiped his sword upwards, swinging it like a bat. The blade went through the hood of the van. It was like watching a hot knife cut through butter. There was no resistance. Nothing stopped the sword's momentum as it cut the front part of the van clean off the body. It might as well have been slicing empty air with the way it moved through the hood.

The van’s doors opened. A muscular man who stood taller than Bevan emerged in front of him.

There was nothing the man could do. Bevan simply lifted his leg and brought it square into the man's solar plexus. It was like watching someone kick a ball. The man was sent shooting backwards and ricocheted off the body of the van, shaking the vehicle.

Bevan didn’t wait. He landed another kick against the driver’s door, pushing the van itself violently to one side. The vehicle slammed into the people who had exited on the other side. Another slice of the sword and the van was cut clean in two halves; dividing it into the front portion and the rear.

Grabbing hold of the driver’s door, he yanked it open, ripping it free of its hinges. He reached inside and pulled out the driver, sending him flying for at least what could have been six feet before the helpless man landed on the ground.

When it was all over, Bevan stood in the middle of the destruction, breathing evenly. He brought the blade up and rested it on its flat side against his shoulder. He turned around to face the team.

Then with a big goofy grin, he showed a thumbs up.

“We need to work on that ending but otherwise, a solid ten for the performance I think,” said Quinn.

But whether everyone agreed to the score, it wasn’t something they found out. For at that moment, landing down the area like he had just fallen from the heavens, was Raiden.

The Norse Guardian still had Mjollnir rested on his shoulder. He lifted the hammer and held it by his side, allowing the head of the weapon to drop to the ground. “Seems like I’m here right on time. Good to see you again Bevan.”