Sonatorrek: Reginsmál - 3

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

They head to the Valhallas HQ, and meet Thor.



“Welcome to Blake Motors.” Arnie Snorinsen said as he pulled the squad car up in front of the lot. It had a big front lot with a chain link gate currently open, and a mix of cars and motorcycles lined up. Kane could see a large garage at the far end, with a squat building beside it. Beside the fence was a small shop, advertising car and motorcycle repairs, as well as small engines and farm machinery. Obviously the Valhallas brought in some of their money legally.

“This is the clubhouse?”

“Yeah. Beside the garage. Now, the both of you-“ Arnie motioned Brand to join him. “Deke Blake is a decent guy, but he doesn’t like being told what to do. He also doesn’t like threats. If you want him to tell you anything other than to get fucked, you’re going to need to be diplomatic. Some of the younger guys will push you a bit the second they find out you’re cops. Don’t take the bait. An ATF guy last year got goaded into taking a swing at one of them, and their lawyer ended his career.”

“That’s good to know.” Kane nodded. What he didn’t say was that the ATF were the ATF; they were FBI, and if the bikers shared half a brain between them all, they’d know just what kind of pressure could be brought down on them.

Arnie let out a breath. “Alright, here we go. This is not going to be fun.”

"Fun, indeed," Brand echoed under her breath, looking more bored than anything. She wasn't impressed they'd been sent out on this whole wild goose chase, but orders were orders. She caught Garrison watching her warily and she raised her eyebrow at him. "What? I can play nice. Trust me."

"I'll believe it when I see it." He said quietly, falling into step beside Arnie. Both in suits, they stuck out obviously and immediately, and several of the bikers abandoned what they had been doing, drifting over to where Arnie stopped.

"Hey Deke?" He addressed a man in a pair of dirty coveralls, with 'Blake Motors' on the breast. He was long haired and bearded, hair mostly grey. Despite his age, he still sported powerful arms, heavily tattooed and visible in the cut off sleeves. He wore an eye patch over his right eye, and the remaining one was hard as he regarded him. Kane noticed the tattoo on his shoulder - 101st Airborne and made a note to check it out. "These people want to have a word with you, if you got a moment."

Blake spat, and turned back around to the car he'd been working on, forcing the wrench with the effort that corded the muscles and smoothed out the tattoos. "What people? All I smell are the Feds."

Arnie gave Kane an 'I told you so' look before walking around to Deke. "It's about Don, Deke." He said, keeping his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear him.

Deke glared back at him, sarcasm rolling off him in thick waves. "Well, no shit. What the fuck isn't these days?" He turned his eyes back on the visitors. "Nice suits. Very... clean. You got a warrant for my boy?"

"No warrants, Mr. Blake." Surprisingly, Brand's tone was polite, almost... respectful. "We just have a few questions about Don and then we'll be on our way. No arrests, no trouble."

Arnie gave him a look, hoping that this wouldn't turn out badly. Deke was protective of Don. It was his only son, and the only thing left of his dead wife. Finally, Deke nodded and made a vague gesture towards the clubhouse.

"I'll take 'em in, Deke." Arnie rejoined them. "Come on. Don will be inside."

They followed, but a half dozen bikers joined them, jostling as they went through the door. Obviously, they weren't about to trust them alone. Kane wondered just how close Arnie was tied to the gang. He was deferential to Blake, and that worried him. Did he have a bent police chief to factor into the equation now. Inside, it looked like a decent roadhouse, with a long stocked bar and plenty of seats. At the pool table, a man with longish blonde hair leaned over to line up a shot. He was young, tall, and built like an statue from Ancient Greece. He heard the audible intake of breath from Brand when she saw him. One of the bikers walked over to him.

"Donny, we've got-"

"Thor."

"Shit, yeah, sorry. Thor, people to see you."

The broad shouldered blond stood up from the table, setting aside the pool cue by placing it on the table, ensuring that no one would take the next shot while he saw to his visitors. His clear blue eyes looked Arnie over with some familiarity before turning on both Brand and Kane, turning slightly wintry upon meeting the gaze of both strangers, nary a hint of fear (and daresay a bit of challenge) in his eyes.

He holds the gaze for a minute before looking sideways to Donny, and then back to Arnie once more. "Why are you bringing these people to see me, Arnie?" Don asks of the officer, voice blunt and forceful. "I don't speak to the authorities." Perhaps Arnie wasn't considered much of an authority?

"I'm Agent Kane and this is Agent Brand. FBI. The United States government tends to have a few questions when a bonafide god claims to be taking a vacation from Valhalla in Minnesota."

"Asgard." Arnie said and Kane rolled his eyes.

"In any case, they sent us to ask those questions. We have a friendly chat with all the answers, and you'll never see us again."

Dons's chest swelled in sudden outrage as he was addressed by Kane directly without Arnie's blessing, and ice blue eyes turned on both Brand and Kane immediately, his gaze skewering them as if they were no more than bugs.

"THOR ODINSON HATH NO NEED TO ANSWER THY POINTLESS QUESTIONS, MORTALS." Don boomed loudly in response, his voice deepening, becoming significantly more resonant as his voice rang through the shop. He wasn't actually shouting the words-- but people could probably hear him in Asgard itself with how resonant his voice became.

"Thine Earthly authorities hath no claim o'er the favored son of Asgard! The quest before him doth encompass and surpass thine mortal concern."

"Look at it as more of a diplomatic mission," Brand suggested, folding her arms over her chest and meeting the big man's eyes without flinching. "Warrior to warrior. We're just making sure you aren't declaring godly war on us."

"If war had been declared upon thee, thou would knowest it already, mortals." Don responded, as his eyes locked onto Brand's once more when he responded. He eyed the authorities warningly and he cracked his knuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. "However, if thou seek to come between mine quest to foil Loki's plans, thou will find that interfering with Thor Odinson is no small matter."

"Quest to foil Loki's plans? Who's Loki and what's he up to that you need to stop, eh?"

"You should mind mortal affairs and leave the work of the Gods to the Gods." He said, clearly ending the interview. Kane touched Brand's arm and she backed off. Arnie gave them a shrug.

"I told you. Look, Deke's willing to talk private."

"I hope so." Garrison took a last look at Thor before he turned away. The kid could be out of Central Casting for the role of Nordic God, but the speech was muddled; like someone trying to sound erudite by talking like they thought was the common inflection. The Chief lead them away to a small room off the bar, where Deke sat staring at a beer.

"So, how was your religious experience, officers? Something to tell the kiddies about, back home?" The challenge was there underwriting the words of the old biker boss, but it felt pro forma. The man suddenly seemed tired, worn out to the bone. And scared that the universe was falling in on his son and there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do to protect him. Which made the next sentence to come out in a calm, detached, weary tone all the more chilling. "You come to stick him in a loony bin or a lab and we all die bloody."

Brand took in the threat and strangely, for her, did not rise to it. Perhaps even she knew when discretion was a better idea than mouthing off. "How long has he been like this?" she asked quietly.

Deke pushed away the untouched beer, and downed the shot of whiskey instead. "Two years all in. It didn't seem like any big thing at first - just weird-ass dreams and shit. Then..." The biker shook his head. "A year ago he barbecued a meth-house with a lightening, in the middle of a sunny and cloudless fucking day. All downhill from there."

Deke's face congealed into a stone mask, as he gestured for another shot. "The last few months - he's just gone, as good as. This thing, it's eaten him." He wasn't looking at the agents as he slammed down the glass. "But he's still my son."

"Look, Deke, we're not trying to take Don away. We just need to figure out if he might end up being a danger to himself or others." Kane said, sympathizing with the man. "Is there anything that started at the same time as the dreams that you can think of?"

Deke shrugged, the utter emotional weariness coming through as supreme indifference. "I've thought about that. Nothing flashy jumps out. But he's a man, not a kid. Whose Da knows all his son's secrets? Your best bet would be to knock on Sylvie's door. She's been his lady for most of it."