Tobias was briefly stunned by what he had underwent. It took his body a while to adjust to the International Space Station's environment. While he regretted not being able to save Brussena from the terror that awaited her back at the facility, he couldn't help but be impressed with Clifton's ingenuity regardless. "Uggh... I didn't know... You hads it in you... Ferre- Clifton." He got up and took a brief look at his surroundings. The Station seemed stable, for the moment. He shook himself off. "I suppose I should be introducing myself to you, comrade." I am in fact a double agent for Danish government. We try to bring back the USSR. I signed up for the Breeds Program to infiltrate American military operations. Now..." He beckoned for Clifton to lead on "..Show me this man you speak of."

Clifton took charge. He turned the corner, space pistol drawn. A man was there, admiring himself in the mirror. "You!" shouted Clifton. "Give me your keycard!"

The man turned to Clifton and laughed boldly. "Do you spaceknow who I am? It is I, Maglorial Eptomititus! If you spacethink you'll be getting spacepassed me, spacethink again!"

Clifton fire a round through Maglorial Eptomititus' spacehead and swiped the keycard. He made his way to the command room. Sliding the card, he entered the room. On the other end, a man sat hunched over his desk, deep in though. When he saw Clifton and Tobias enter the room armed, he could only stare with his mouth gaping like the maw of Gaping Dragon.

"What in fucking tarnation is this?" exclaimed Commander Pistols.

"Weston Pistols, I knew I'd find you here," said Clifton.

"It's COMMANDER PISTOLS, you daggone son of a bitch!"

Clifton was done with this bullshit. He rammed the pistol into Commander Pistols' cowboy face. "I don't have time for this jingjangle shit. You're going to take us to Asgard to see HIM. Now!"

ASGARD? Could it be true? The dreams of his childhood came flooding back to Tobias. Somewhere off in Valhalla, his father nodded in approvement. "I would very much love to visit the land of my forefather's lords. But is it truly real? Is it possible, Clifton?" But alas, deep down in his nordic nether-regions he knew it was true all along. He slammed the nearest table with terrifying force. " I am with ferret-friend. Take us to Asgard, Commander. AT ONCE!"

With a dusty cowboy sigh, Commander Pistols stood up, reveal his well concealed deformity. His right foot was a pistol now, and it shamed him to no end. "Very well. Please follow me." He led them to panel. Lifting it to reveal a button, he pressed it. In the middle of the room, a portal flickered to life. Through it they could see Asgard. "There you go, now please leave me out of this."

"I don't think you understand me, Pistols. We need YOU. HE knows YOU. And, if I recall correctly... you're also a Catholic," sneered Clifton with nefarious fervor. At gunpoint, he pushed Commander Pistols into the portal.

On the other side of the portal, a cold wind blew, chilling the band to the bone. Valhalla loomed in the distance, ominously. They knew not for certain what lay beyond. "Ready?" asked Clifton.

Tobias took his first, feeble steps upon the promised land. His bloodline left him naturally impervious to frost. He was born to be here. He could feel it in his bones. He was not sure how this would all help his government's mission; perhaps they could salvage some Asgardian technology or something. Maybe none of it mattered anymore. He felt like he had a new purpose now. Morphing back into a walrus, he opened his jaws agape and began heaving forth an object from deep within his bowels. He had been concealing this treasure the entire time, and had been the real reason for him being sick. Finally a glorious battleaxe protruded from his gaping maw. It had nothing on Mjolnir, but it was a highly ornate and deadly efficient. The pride and secret weapon of his ancient house. It was called.... Pelsdraebe! He held it before him, looking as mighty and magnificent as the Allfather himself. He had originally planned to use it on that vile snake-boy, but he now sensed a much more monstrous presence had corrupted the land of the gods. He needed to kill it. "I am ready, weasel. Let us go forth and confront this terror, for the glory of Midgard!" He heard the diabolical click of Weston's fabled pistols being cocked beside him.

The precious instant of a new friendship is rudely interrupted with the heavenly aura of the portal. Out from the space station with the speedlines of three hundred animes came Ken, in Blastoise form, alongside Kareem, in basketball form.

"PEARL HARBOR! PEARL HARBOR!" Ken shouted.
"Y'all niggas best not forget dis muthafucka" said Kareem.

Clifton nodded his approval at the two additional delinquents. He would need all the help they could get. They marched to the dark doors of Valhalla, a dreadful silence hanging over the air in place of the joyous battles and drunken festivities that once filled the lands. The crumpled corpse of a yeti and yak laid in the courtyard. The sight sent shivers down his stoat genes. He pushed open the doors, and shafts of heavenly light pierced the dark halls. Inside, the mangled corpses of the Norse pantheon decorated the interior. Atop the mighty throne sat a dark figure.

Reedus's Dad rose.

"What brings you to this Hall of Heathens?" asked Reedus's Dad. He lifted a mighty blade of tempered teenage angst. The Reedusword. "These Scandinavian beasts thought that their blasphemous antics would never come to an end. They thought they were safe from my Papal Wrath in this realm of Asgard. They should have been unreachable, but they forgot one detail."

He began to walk towards the group.

"I happen to be a Catholic."

"Yooo! My little cuz' communion is next week ya feel me an I forgot to get her a gift, what do you think I should get sword guy?" Kareem asked excitedly.
Kareem looked up at Reedus' Dad in awe. He thought The Reedusword looked dope! Kareem wondered for a moment how useful Reedus' Dad would be the next time some punk ass niggas tried to try shit. Then he realized he joined a team of men trying shit. Kareem became worried.

Ken reverted back to human form and named his Doublade "Reedusword."

As the group began their standoff with Reedus's Dad, time suddenly seemed to stand still for Tobias. Pelsdraebe began to quiver slightly in Tobias's hands. Bewildered, he examined the weapon closer. There was a noise emitting from it, very faintly. It sounded... A bit like 50 Cent. Or perhaps Tupac. Whatever the sound was, it was exceedingly gangsta. Suddenly, the axe began to glow with a bright aura, and then... A figure emerged from inside the weapon! It was... Anne Frank!

But this was not the Anne Frank we all know and love from history class. She was decked out with bling, a backwards baseball cap, images of cannabis on her clothes, and other gangsta paraphernalia. She looked like one real Bad Bitch.

"Sup nigga" she said.
"A-Annes Frank?!?" Tobias sputtered, positively flabbergasted.
"Yea it's me, fool." She replied, annoyed. "I been chillin' in dat axe for forever now, but I guess yall done set me free 'n shit."
"B-but.... Whats is... How....?"
"Now just shut the fuck up an listen, dawg. The only reason I'm here is cause that pious nigga over there got the Reedusword. I musta gotten woken up cause o' how close yo ass has gotten to that thing. That shit is bad news man! It's like, the mothafuckin' nemesis of your axe, ya feel me?"
He did not feel her.

"Now listen. I can give your little cleaver some, like, more power n' shit. Maybe enough to match the Reedusword in strength. But it means I gotta sacrifice my ass an be absorbed back into the weapon, permanently this time. I'll do it tho cause I'm a gracious mothafucka and because yall is like the Chosen One n' shit, destined to defeat-"
Tobias cut her off by socking that shit in the jaw. "Don't you be talking to me's about some 'Chosen One' nonsense! That is BOLSHEVIK!"

The blow spun Anne's head all the way around, but she seemed to be okay because she was a phantom. "YO MAN WHAT THE FUCK? You fuckin' dumbass bitch! Fuck this shit, I'm out!" She shouted and began to float away.
"OH NO YOU DON'TS!!" Tobias came at her again, walloping her on the back of the head with the flat of the axe, knocking the bitch out. Then he brought the axe down on her limp body with a fierce blow. It dug into her back and started sucking her back into the blade. Looks like he would get her power after all. The weapon trembled with a great ferocity, changing colors and becoming.... Pelsdraebe+!

"Now is time..." he muttered as time returned back to normal. He let out a war cry and charged at Reedus's Dad with his newly buffed weapon, letting loose all of his viking fury. "YOUR JIGGING IS UP!"

Clifton watched the appearance and demise of Anne "Bad Bitch" Frank with mild discomfort. It was the sort of discomfort one gets from stepping into a puddle of water with socks on. It was the sort of discomfort that mildly upsets you to your very core. In the pit of his stomach, he could feel his luncheon's salad begin to frost over and the orange juice begin to curdle. The malevolent Catholic's approach did nothing to ease him. He turned to Commander Pistols, pleading. "Talk to him!," Clifton screamed. "Do something! We need that sword!"

Commander Pistols met Clifton's eyes. "Sonny, I tried to explain it earlier, but you weren't having it. Reedus's Dad and I had a falling out sometime ago. He tried to excommunicate me to death! I've got the scars to prove it." He pointed at his pistol foot. "If you were counting on me to help you, well, you're outta luck, son."

Clifton's salad began to resemble the arctic circle. All that stood between him and certain religious persecution was an angry viking, a weeaboo, and a basketball. He pulled out his pocket calculator and began to steal classified UN documents in an attempt to calm his nerves.

In the meanwhile, Reedus's Dad continued his march, Reedusword drawn. The basketball said something to him, but both black men and basketball were beneath his comprehension. He only had eyes for Tobias and his pagan weapon. A Religious Fervor burned deeply in his chaste loins. Leaping higher than the highest basilica, he covered the ground between him and the group. Pelsdraebe+ and Reedusword clashed. The screams of metal on metal deafened all those around, drowning out the world in their harrowing cacophony. The windows of Valhalla shattered as the sound traveled out and bounded across the lands, calling out well into the far corners of the universe. Not a soul was left unmarked.

Somewhere, a pair of pointy ears pricked.

The force of contact between the two weapons knocked the combatants away from each other. Pelsdraebe+ was smoking from the heat of the blow, smelling faintly like marijuana. Some part of Anne Frank still existed within the weapon. Tobias made a mental note to himself to pass the axe down to his least favorite son. He then proceeded to glare crossly at his opponent, who returned the gesture in an anime-style staredown, complete with random grunts and growls. Reedus's Dad even gave a couple pleasured moans for some reason.

The sound from their first clash did not go without reapercushions. The noise was like Brokencyde multiplied by Nickelback, with a helping of Creed. It spread to the furthest reaches of space. The universe trembled as a billion salads suddenly cried out, and were frozen. On Asgard the sky was darkening. Storms were brewing. The ground began to quake. Rifts in the earth began to appear, and portals were forming in the clouds. "The convergence is upon us..." Commander Pistols said grimly. "...And Ragnarok will follow."