Week 7 Story: Weapons Master of the Gods

 

Source

After the Geneva Convention of 1956, the Gods were revoked access to their weapons. An armory was established — Svalbard Divine Weapons Vault. This is the story of the Weapons Master: Erik von Vepinschmith.

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Another day, another year spent in the icy depths of the Divine Weapons Vault. I think about the warm beaches of Maui as I descend into the tunnels beneath Svalbard, and dream of another two months of finding sand in all of my crevices.

The circular tunnels leading to the vaults fills me with dread. Did I bring my vitamin D supplements? I'll have to make sure — there won't be another supply drop for two weeks, and Bjørn gets scary-mad if he has to make the trek to town. 

I make it to the door that leads to the dorms. I stop just outside — my hand hovers over the keypad door handle. As soon as I enter the combination... as soon as I step through this door... I'll be captive for another year as Divine Weapon Keeper. Two straight months of vacation isn't enough when you're trapped in an arctic bunker that houses magical time bombs.

We really gotta form a union.

I enter the dorms, and am greeted with the unenthusiastic "hey-o's" of my coworkers. There's three of them lounging about on their off-time. Hannah Kowalski is the newest member of the team. An All-American blonde bombshell of a woman who ran away from home just to end up in this dump. 

There's the intern Jun Kajiy. He's studying Divine Engineering at the University of Tokyo, and was the only person who applied to intern here. He studies under the esteemed doctor.

Then there's Dr. Pier Fèvre — the very man who concocted this scheme. After the war, the worlds nations came together to discuss the powers the Gods displayed in battle. Everyone was terrified of the absolute destruction they could do, and the good Doctor designed a place to house their weapons. He was cursed by the Gods with immortality, and as repentance forced to work here for all eternity. The man's been here for 65 years — doesn't look a day over 30.

"Hi guys. Is Bjørn in the armory?"

"Yup," answered Hannah, "how was the vacation?"

"Went too fast," I complained, "but was just what I needed."

I set my stuff in my room, and made my way to the armory. 

Tunnels at Svalbard. Source.

The armory consists of a tiny space for the Smiths to work, complete with desktop computer and hard plastic chair. Beyond the working space are rows upon rows of revolving conveyors displaying the worlds most dangerous weapons.

Bjørn sat in his plastic chair, making it look child sized in comparison to his gigantic proportions. Seriously, the man is the size of a bear. Must be his viking ancestry. He stared at a sword that lay on the table, his one eyebrow scrunched together like a caterpillar. 

"What's that?" I asked

"Excalibur," replied the bear-man. 

Ahh Excalibur. The Lady of the Lake put up a fight before she let that thing go. Only the true king, blah blah. She took out a man's eye before they could restrain her.

Looking closely at the sword, I could see a shimmer swirling around the blade. 

"What's that?" I asked again

"Dunno," stated Bjørn nonchalantly. He scooted his tiny chair away from the desk and beckoned me to follow him.

He lead me through the rows of Divine Weapons, and showed me the swirly mystery was inflicting every Divine Weapon.

"It's been like this for four days," said Bjørn, "we're not sure what's happening. I told the others to stay out of the armory until I know for certain if this is dangerous or not."

Bjørn, ever the braveheart. 

"Well, they are Divine. Why wouldn't this be dangerous?"

"I've checked and rechecked many of the weapons, and nothing has seemed to happen. I have no wounds, my vitals are normal. Nothing has happened other than the mist."

"Has the Commander been notified?" I ask

"Yes, he -"

An absence of sound pressed upon our ears. In that moment, I thought about the beaches of Maui again. The excited screams of tourists, sipping whiskey at 8:30 in the morning.

A sudden vibration shot through my spine and Bjørn and I were pulled to the ground as if gravity itself decided to hug us.

Just barely able to move my head, I move my eyes toward to conveyors. Every weapon had disappeared.

I should have put my two weeks in.

Authors Note: I've been thinking a lot about weapons lately. I'm working on my storybook project, and that's an aspect of it. I didn't know much about divine weapons before this, but I found a list from wikipedia and implemented it into this story. I took the idea for the vault from Svalbard Seed Vault. It's pretty cool to learn about. I got a bit too into writing this, and researched surnames in other languages that are different meanings of "blacksmith." Once again, I find myself laughing at my own jokes. The weapon masters last name amused me. I write this at work, and a woman caught me laughing to myself. The shame. I didn't mean to just leave this on a cliffhanger, but there was a lot of information. I may or may not revisit it.