Chapter Text
Simo Hayha passed on in April of 2002.
A little over a decade later, in December of 2012, the Gods would call a vote and agree to exterminate humanity, not only killing every living human, but also destroying the souls in Valhalla. The Valkyrie, Brunhilde, was able to temporarily stop this by invoking Ragnarok. Thirteen Humans and Thirteen Gods would fight in 1-on-1 fights to the death of the soul, the winner gaining a point for their side. Whatever side got to seven points first would win. If the gods win, Humanity would be exterminated, if humanity won, they would survive.
Much to Simo's dismay, he was one of the thirteen.
He knew why of course, he was The White Death, the greatest sniper to ever live, and undoubtably one of the deadliest humans to live.
Every cell in his body shook at the thought of having to become the White Death again, he wanted nothing more than to decline the offer, he wanted somebody, anybody else to take the spot he took on the roster.
Those hopes were shattered when he was informed by Brunhilde that she chose him specifically to counter the Norse God of Trickery, Loki, and she believed nobody but him could kill Loki.
Simo looked at the gun, the M28-30 Mosin-Nagant Rifle, without any emotion on his face besides a tired look in his eyes. He had left this at his house, in case the time ever came to use it again, which had obviously come, he picked it up and brandished the handle. This gun, much as he hated it, was an extension of himself, his arm.
It didn't feel unnatural at all to wield it, after all, all of his muscle memories remained in the afterlife, including the skills he wanted to forget at all costs. Simo knew this wouldn't be the gun he'd be using, that would be provided to him by the Valkyrie he would be bonded with, Radgridr, but a bit of practice wouldn't hurt him.
He went outside and observed the targets that had been set up, surrounding him from every angle possible, in case Loki attacked from any of them. Simo made sure his gun had no ammunition inside of it and counted down from Kolme to Yksi.
When he was done counting, he looked, loaded, and systematically fired at every single in the span of a few seconds. He didn't need the ammo, he knew he had hit them all dead center.
He needed no more practice, he was ready.
A buzz in his pocket signified a notification on his phone, it was from Brunhilde. Round 9 had recently finished in Apollo's victory for the Gods, the score was 5-4 in their favor. There were only four rounds left and they needed to win three of them to survive. The plan was for Soji Okita to fight in the next round against Susanoo while Brunhilde convinced Loki to go after that.
Simo knew it was time to find Radgridr. He knew she would be nearby in the forest, a nice picnic to calm the nerves. Simo had heard of stranger ways to relieve fear, and a nice lunch was always welcomed, but he wasn't one to eat before a fight.
Walking through the forest, Simo looked for Radgridr so they could properly Volund, but while traversing the trees, a sharp breath of panic escaped his mouth as the reality of the situation truly sat with him.
Simo stumbled, before leaning onto a tree, shallow drafts of air rapidly left his mouth as he tried to properly control his body's actions again. He could have a panic attack later, not now, not when all of Humanity depends on him!
Slowly but surely, after a few minutes, he began to breath deeper, controlling himself again, his eyesight becoming clearer, he saw what was helping him.
His pet dog, Kille, was nestled on his foot. Simo looked down, smiling at Kille before petting him.
He continued walking forward, Kille at his side, eventually spotting Radgridr.
"You called for me?"
Radgridr jumped slightly before noticing Simo behind her.
"When did you- I couldn't sense anything!" She exclaimed before saluting to Simo. "I am Radgridr, 8th of the Valkyries, I submit myself to you!"
Simo saluted back.
"Let us go, for the Fatherland."