Justice Served Bloody, Revenge Served Cold
It was about the time of day when the sun sets and the darkness of the night time sky starts to absorb the dark blue twilight. They had reached the church. Odin had spent six long years searching, and he had finally found it. The boy, Lucas, knew that it was a place of evil. There would be bloodshed tonight, as there had been before in this once mighty house of the God men used to have faith in. He bound his fur tight in the bitter cold.
"This is it?" Lucas asked.
"Yes," Odin replied.
Odin never spoke much. One day he had told Lucas of his past, and of the girl, Faye. He couldn't fully comprehend how Odin felt, but knew one thing about Odin for sure. He was sick. He was dying. He knew even though Odin looked about 40, he was only about 25. His youth was hidden by a full beard and several scars.
Lucas had been concerned ever since that strange insect had bitten Odin. It was larger than any bug he'd ever seen, and it resembled a praying mantis. He knew it had to be mutated. That evening Odin had a fever and coughed up blood. Although he knew he was in rough shape, he insisted to Lucas that he was fine. One week later, when Odin's arms were covered in crimson lines (which Lucas initially thought were veins) he knew Odin was dying. Being his age and facing death was a cruel reality in this world. Lucas would know.
The abandoned office building where Odin had found him had been a shelter for his family and many others. That is, until the cannibals came. Any they didn't take back to their camp were burned alive, except for Lucas. He had hidden in a cabinet inside the cafeteria for six days before Odin came. He knew there had been a fight between Odin and the few mutants who stayed, for they were all slain.
So there they were, at the church in the mightiest of ruins. Odin stared at the doors with cold eyes. He shivered slightly and remembered Faye's last words as the knife's poison coursed through her veins, and he spoke them aloud as if in a trance:
"In the largest of cities, in the largest church, Fenrir waits and is ever watchful"
He did not know who Fenrir was, but knew he had killed her. He had looked into the horrible mutant's eyes for a moment before it fled from its victim. He would recognize those pale yellow eyes anywhere.
Odin stepped towards the rotting wood doors and pushed. They were locked. No matter. He grabbed hold of the hatchet he wore strapped around his waist and swung it into the door. The rotting wood collapsed under the pressure of the blow. He and the boy stepped over what was left of the door and looked around. Bones littered the floor; some which still had bits of flesh stuck to them. Then Odin saw it. Crouched against the altar was what resembled a large man, only he was covered in hair.
The thing opened its eyes.
"Fenrir!" Odin shouted.
"I have a visitor?" The creature spoke as if he had rusty gears lodged in his throat instead of vocal chords, "Oh, it is you. Come for revenge, I doubt not."
There was no need for words. Fenrir knew why he had come. Odin looked over to Lucas. The boy was frightened.
"It looks like a were-wolf, Odin," he whispered, "What are we gonna do?"
Odin did not answer. Actions speak louder than words. He walked over to where Fenrir lay and held up his hatchet.
"Go ahead," the creature snarled, "Kill a helpless, dying old mutant." Its teeth were like fine daggers. Well, the few it had left.
Odin did not hesitate at first. Nor did he hesitate as he pulled the hatchet from the creature's skull. His heart pounded. He felt good about this. He felt more than good, he was great. Yet at the same time, he was dying. The insect had been highly poisonous and radioactive, and Odin should have died the moment he was bitten. Determination to avenge Faye had kept him alive. Now, Fenrir lay lifeless on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Justice had been dealt to him. Odin coughed horribly into an open palm. Blood. He collapsed on the floor.