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."