Brilliant. Tyr had bore witness to the dragon's last moment, from start to end, from the inception of Shamash's battle to the fiery death that awaited such a spawn of Hel. It filled his chest with a degree of pride as he hung out the side of the chariot, hair whipping around rapidly in the wind. His friend Shamash, Shamash of Sumer was not a man just as he was not a god - he was a warrior, capable of slaying vicious Norse beasts. These were beasts that Tyr's people were well accustomed to of course, a young boy proving his manhood or a blindfolded woman able to deal with one without much difficulty, but a foreigner? It was truly remarkable, and something to be commended.
However, as the God of Heroic Glory to his people, Tyr could not allow his friend's victory to linger for long without seeking to one-up him. By any means necessary.
Thankfully the villains this day were plenty.
"COME!" he shouted with fire in his eyes and a wicked, wild grin as he leaned out the side of the chariot, speeding along at a pace faster than he could recall any chariot ever going before. ...Six hundred horses would do that, though. He would have to talk to Thor about upgrading. "COME! COME AND I SHA-"
"Leeeerooooyyy Jeeenkkiiinnss!!"
"What? Wha-"
The chariot swerved hard on the road again, driven now by their associate in their mad escape from the den of thieves. Tyr's eyes went wide in that moment, knees bending with the sharp turn, one foot losing its grip completely. His swordarm slipped, the side of his bastard sword scraping against the road in two brief showings of sparks. The god's right arm that was hooked just inside the doorway and one foot still with a grip were all he had left to hold himself from a drunken tumble at over a hundred miles an hour. A drunken tumble onto a road of black, hands reaching up to grasp at his clothing, trying to invite him to their depths. Thankfully, it was enough. Tyr's teeth grit as he pulled himself up with his arm, sparing any strength he could to smack the flat edge of his blade against the driver side window of the chariot.
This was a pretty unique chariot, to have a window.
Another thing to speak to Thor of, at another time. He couldn't get Cobr4 Co\m/\m/and3r's attention, and there wasn't time to hesitate. Two more of the demonic constructs of skin and steel joined the pursuit from another road, and at that moment Tyr's mind flashed with an idea. An idea and a grin, and a realization; Ragnarok was not today. It was not today, and that gave him an edge.
At the next hard swerve, at the next time they passed by the creatures of metal and of flesh, shrill sirens blaring in the air like horns of war from unknown lands, Tyr leapt off the side of their chariot, sword held high, boarding one of their foes.
Their driver, a rapidly depleting roach held between two lips covered in a thick sheen of orange, took the next turn off of the six-lane highway. He pulled off the road, taking the off-ramp, swerving around a police blockade and driving right through a stand of fruit, grapefruits and kiwis flying everywhere. Then right alongside a construction site, a worker too engrossed in the chaos, accidentally leaning against the button that would pour tar all over the hood of the vehicle. Then through several dozen wooden crates holding chickens, because otherwise this would be a pretty shitty chase scene.
The car swerved to a stop a few seconds later in the Ihop parking lot, smoke rising from the wheels. In a handicap spot. In three handicap spots. The man stepped out of the car, threw up the horns, mouthed a quick 'fuck, yeah!' and started to walk in... before turning to Shamash.
His eyes went wide in that moment, followed by his mouth. Followed by his palms spreading wide to get Shamash's attention, and to keep the situation calm.
"Holy crap, man! You're tu... you're turning into a chicken!! What the fuck?! What the fuck?! Holy-... Stop drop and roll, man! Everything'll be ok! This happened to my cousin once! Just stop drop and roll!!!"