“That thing? With the giant werewolf? Remember?”
Catrina shot Thor a look that would have killed a lesser man. Seriously. Dude would’ve burst into flames right there.
“OK, fine,” replied Thor, rolling his eyes.
Thor knelt before Timmy and put both of his hands on the squirrel’s tiny shoulders. He took a deep breath and looked Timmy squarely in his rodent eyes.
“Timmy,” he said, “please do not kill these scientists. We apparently need them for some reason, maybe. More importantly, though, they are not very good at being scientists. They will undoubtedly find some way to kill themselves in a hilarious fashion shortly.”
Timmy returned Thor’s gaze, hesitation apparent in his eyes.
“Trust me,” said Thor.
Timmy took a deep breath.
“OK,” replied the caped super-squirrel, releasing the scientists from his telekinetic stranglehold. They fell to the ground with a variety of thuds.
“Alright, well, with that out of the way, I guess it’s time to start talking renegade Aztec gods,” said Queen Victoria XXX.
“Makes sense,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII. “What do you know, Phil?”
“You guys alright?” asked William H. Taft XLII, offering his hand to Judy.
“Oh my god,” said Judy. “I am so turned on.”
“Wait, what?”
“Well, I only met him for the first time… a couple weeks ago,” said Phil.
Judy turned to her scientist companions saying, “Someone needs to do me, right the fuck now.”
She grabbed one by the arm and began pulling him toward the helicopter.
“You, let’s go.”
“He was… different then than he is now,” continued the philosopher.
Judy shoved the scientist into the helicopter, climbed in on top of him, and slid the door shut.
“The wings are new, for one.”
“Seriously, guys,” said William H. Taft XLII, “did nobody else just see that?”
“The tail, as well.”
“It just seems really inappropriate is all,” continued the former president, scratching the back of his head. “And, you know, kinda creepy.”
Seventy-Two: Boom
“Sir,” said the completely nondescript bureaucratic drone whose fortune-telling mother hadn’t even bothered to name him due to his fated role in the world, “it appears that Quetzalcoatl and his army have breached Las Vegas and destroyed most of the city.”
“Damn it,” said the President of the Amalgamated Provinces and States of Canada, America and Mexico, pounding his fist against his desk. “The hookers?”
“At half capacity, sir.”
“Half?!” replied the president. “Our economy is ruined.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the Giant Killers?” asked the president, rubbing his forehead. “Do we have an ETA on them yet?”
“The Giant Killers, sir?”
“Operation Giant Killer?”
“None of the paperwork had ‘Giant Killer’ written on it,” said the drone, flipping through the reports and files he was carrying.
“Well, no, it wouldn’t. It was a
“I don’t know that there’s anything particularly secret about this, sir,” said the drone, still flipping. “Thor is referred to by name several times. As are his co-workers and the political clones who joined them. Political clones that don’t legally exist. It’s even got the model number and flight path of the helicopter taking them from New Jersey to Nevada. There is absolutely no part of this plan that uses any kind of discretion.”
“Yeah,” said the president, “that’s not Operation Giant Killer.”
“Sir?”
“I’m not really sure what you’re looking at, son,” explained the president. “The paperwork I got says I’m supposed to send in the Horsemen to deal with our little god infestation.”
“The Horsemen? The Horsemen were ruled a crime against humanity, sir. By a court of clinically psychopathic criminals. They were supposed to have been dismantled, melted down, turned into spoons, wrapped in plastic, and then fired into space,” said the nameless drone, outrage quickly rising within him.
“Well, that proved to be expensive,” said the president, “so they weren’t.”
“The Horsemen don’t have filters, sir. They’ll kill everyone.”
“These things happen,” he shrugged.
“Those people are innocent, sir. In fact,
“Actually,” said the president, “I already did. I authorized the release of the Horsemen twenty minutes ago.”
“Although,” he continued, “I had forgotten how highly illegal that endeavor was, so I guess maybe you’re right after all. Something should probably be done.”
“Thank you for coming to your senses, sir,” replied the nameless young man. “I really wasn’t looking forward to all the paperwork I’d have to file in order to report this to the United Global Congressional Federation of Countries.”
“Neither was I,” replied the president, pulling a crossbow from his desk.
“Sir,” said the completely nondescript bureaucratic drone whose fortune-telling mother hadn’t even bothered to name him due to his fated role in the world, “what are you doing?”
“Solving our paperwork problem,” replied the president as he loaded his crossbow.
“There are numerous, far better options…”
The President of the Amalgamated Provinces and States of Canada, America and Mexico shot an arrow into his assistant’s chest.
“Too bad your mother never saw that coming.”
“Actually, sir,” said the nameless young man, looking down at the arrow sticking out of his sternum, “she did.”
He slumped down into the armchair across from the president’s desk.
“They’ll probably blame you for this, you know.”
“Blame me for what?” said the increasingly confused attempted murderer, loading another arrow.
The office drone opened his shirt to reveal a vest, a belt, and a bandolier, all loaded with, and made of, explosives.
“The fall of the Amalgamated Provinces and States of Canada, America and Mexico, for one,” said the drone, beginning to spit up blood.
“I thought your torso was oddly shaped,” said the president, shooting the office worker in the chest again.
“Consolidating all the government offices into one building was a pretty stupid idea.”
The president shot the drone in the chest a third time.
“Especially considering how terrible a president you are, sir,” continued the drone, blood pouring down his chin.
“No kidding, son,” said the president. “I didn’t even vote for me.”
The president shot his assistant a fourth time.
