Stalking towards her, he heard she was still talking, “You call them Fenrir’s Chosen.  I’m a scholar, believe it or not.  I know Fenrir was one of the beasts that brings about Ragnarök, the death of the gods.  Fenrir was the beast who slew Odin, Allfather, king of the gods.  Fenrir was a wolf.  Too coincidental for that to be an accident on your part.”

Oh nice, she’s providing a little recap for all the readers who didn’t know all the stuff I just talked about off-hand like I do.

Not gonna lie, that makes me feel a lot more confident in my theory.

Something I didn’t mention in the post about who would be Odin: If Allfather represents Odin here, and already is dead, then that suggests he might’ve been killed by Hookwolf, and Hookwolf possibly believes the apocalypse is already happening. And if I’m on to something about why the Dandelions started empowering people, he might be right. You could argue that the apocalypse began thirty years ago.

Also I suppose if we’re going with the Ragnarök parallels, then I suppose the threat which I believe to be the titular Worm would be Jörmungandr, the world serpent, which kills Thor. Hmm, do we have any good fits for Thor yet? (Kaiser doesn’t work, he’s dead – though he did die to a sea monster…)

Ultimately, Fenrir is killed by one of Odin’s sons in retribution, I believe. Which one was it again… Ah, Víðarr. I don’t know if there’s a parallel to be found there, so maybe I’m stretching this too far.

It’s not like this is a parallel that the story is necessarily bound to follow exactly, either.

He couldn’t speak to answer her, and only climbed the building’s face.  He was three-quarters of the way up when she leaped down, soaring toward the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.  Always keeping her distance.

Heh, frustrating, isn’t it?

A gale caught her, and her lateral movement stopped.  As wind twisted around her, she was driven down into the street, hard.

Ouch.

Stormtiger to the rescue?

Hookwolf would have laughed if he could.  He looked at his headquarters and saw Stormtiger crouching by the front door, clutching a blood-soaked rag to his throat.  Stormtiger wouldn’t interfere where it counted, but he would give Hookwolf the opportunity to confront his opponent.

Nice. Seems like he knows his boss well.

He adjusted his position and fell to the street next to Shatterbird.  She held one leg while laying on her back.  She’d fallen badly.

Hm, I guess with a power centered on glass, it’s thematically appropriate if she can’t take much in terms of hits.

The best part is that considering her massive offensive ability, that makes her officially a Glass Cannon.

Armmaster, Allfather (who is already dead), Legend, Myrddin and even Tattletale can all be construed as tying into Odin somehow – I don’t think any of them are supposed to be an exact match, though.

If anyone is, though, I guess it’d be Allfather – the one we know least about and the one whose name is literally one of Odin’s.

“What I can’t figure out-” she paused to throw herself up to the top of a four-story building, then raised her voice to be heard on the ground, “Is what you’re doing with these ‘Chosen’ of yours.”

Do his plans even have anything to do with the Nazi ideology people think they’re joining for?

Hm… It’s worth noting that the name “Fenrir’s Chosen" has a rather apocalyptic bent. Fenrir is supposed to be freed from his chains at Ragnarök, the end of the world as the Norse people knew it, and contribute to the fall of the Æsir by killing Odin. The name “Fenrir’s Chosen” suggests people who are in the wolf’s favor at the end of the world.

Does Hookwolf believe, or even know (Dinah is probably not the only source by which someone might find out), that an apocalypse – the future threat that may or may not be a giant worm more powerful than the Endbringers combined – is coming? Is he literally gathering these “Aryan” people together in order to attempt to bring them safely to the other side of the apocalypse and repopulate the world with Nazi genes and ideals?

He pounced once more, driving both foreclaws at her and following up with two quick jabs with his needle-tipped limbs.  She dodged all three hits, then swept a carpet of glass beneath him as he pounced quickly after her.

Not bad on either side – neat attacks avoided by excellent dodging.

He landed and skidded on the surface like one might with a carpet of marbles, falling onto one side, and she threw a tidal wave of glass shards at him, driving him across the street to distance him once more.

Yeah, it seems like keeping distance is generally what Shatterbird is trying to do here – stay far enough away from Hookwolf that she can talk to him without being interrupted by a set of claws to the face.

He stopped to draw his head and upper body back into the core.  The wave of glass had come too close to penetrating the head of his form and cutting his flesh.  It was dangerously vulnerable. 

Ahh, I see.

I suppose this might please Shatterbird, with the whole “conventional forms” thing.

A warrior at heart, she’d said.  He’d thought, sometimes, that he was born at the wrong time.  Had he been born in Rome’s heyday, the Crusades or any of the great wars, in eras where martial pride and strength were valued, he thought he might have been a great person, a soldier feared on the battlefield.

You’re out of my league
I’m out of my mind
Thinking I was born
In the wrong time

I do like the idea of Roman centurion Hamus Lupus. Actually, a Roman AU in general sounds kinda neat, but Hookwolf and Dauntless probably fit in better than most (Dauntless taking the role of a traveler from a Greek city state).

He would have relished that life.  Here, now?  Even with powers, he wasn’t so notable.  People with a tendency for violence and a thirst for blood just didn’t thrive.

Yeeah, humanity just had to take a turn for the more peaceful right before people started getting powers that are largely geared towards combat, huh.

“They’re enough.”  He pounced.  She leaped to one side, and almost glided to a position across the street.  She was using the glass of her costume to levitate herself.

Eyy, called it!

From her new vantage point she told him, “I did say I had my suspicions about your motivations.  I think I’ve come to understand you. Jack encourages this, you know.

Encourages what? Trying to understand people’s motivations?

Understanding our targets, be they recruits or victims.  You learn a lot being with him.  I believe you, Hookwolf, are a born warrior.”

Jack’s right. I believe we’ve been over this quite a few times now: knowledge (and understanding) is power.

A warrior, huh? As in he fights just for the sake of fighting? I suppose that makes a lot of sense with the fighting ring background.

“What’s the rush?  In fact, any moment we delay, you have a chance of reinforcements arriving.  Your Stormtiger, your Othala, your Menja, they could all do a little something to assist you. It’s in your advantage for us to delay the fight.”

She does have a point, or would if Hookwolf hadn’t asked them to do other things. I suppose they might come after him when they were done, though.

“Except I’m more than capable of putting you down myself.”

“Perhaps.”

And unlike the three mentioned, he’s not easily vulnerable to the glass.

He adjusted his form, dropping to four legs once more.  The aesthetic suffered, but he created two needle-tipped limbs at his shoulders, poised like scorpion’s tails.

The aesthetic suffers from becoming a wolf with dual scorpion stingers growing from the shoulders?? I don’t know what world you’re living in, Hookwolf, but in mine, that’s super cool.

“Ah, that’s much better,” she said, “But you’re still too attached to conventional forms.  Why have legs at all?”

Oh, you’re a connoiseur of unconventional body shapes?

I suppose there’s something psychological about it. Hookwolf doesn’t seem to need legs, but he very much prefers the quadrupedal form. So is it just “I prefer the aesthetics of having legs”, or is there more to it?

Cricket collapsed, large quantities of blood spilling through her fingers and around her hands, where they clutched her throat.

And Shatterbird just had to hit the throat, too. As if Cricket didn’t have enough problems with that.

“Now it’s just you and me,” Shatterbird said.  She dusted herself off, not giving any concern to the sharp edges of the glass shards that made up her garment.  “We talk.”

I wonder if Shatterbird ever uses her ability to move glass on her garment to let her fly.

“I think I’ll kill you instead,” Hookwolf growled.

It’s weird how reasonable this sounds at this point.