Brimstone, Bass, and Baseball.

 I was out of the hospital and back in my cruiser in less than a week, thanks to the supernatural healing provided by my new "roomate" only to find out from my boss I had been put on a temporary suspension. I knew it was gonna happen, what with all the shit I was doing behind is back to keep Rodney out of the public eye, but the boss let me keep the car at least, so I didn't have to take the stationwagon my wife Maria uses to take the kids to school.

She never trusted school bus drivers, not after seeing how petty they could be firsthand. Someone attempted a pass on her bus when she was young, the bus driver turned with the passing car, to keep it from going on the other side of the road, nearly getting rear-ended in the process. She was the closest to it having been seated in the back of the bus. Hasn't trusted a bus since.

I was continuing to contemplate my wife's irrational fear of the schoolbus when I heard that little roommate in my head instructing me like some supernatural GPS.

"Take a right here Charlie." Following the instructions I turned to the right, and found myself on an extremely sketchy part of town, the glares I was getting from the neighborhood and the colors most of them wore suggested Blood territory, but nobody liked the boys in blue on a street like this. I was in my civies, and my cruiser was the type that you could stick a light on from the drivers side, but that doesn't get rid of the huge "SPD" label on the sides.

"Lass, what am I doing on Blood turf?" I asked aloud to the demon currently riding in a partitioned corner of my soul.
"Because, we are going to a party."

"A party for what?"

"A party run by Skye."

"Skye? You mean the biggest ecstasy dealer this side of the river? That Skye?"

"Yep, it's just a pseudonym, he's one of the best DJ's in town too. He's also a god and one of my best friends; Quetzalcoatl."

"So the reason we haven't been able to catch him is because he's a god?"

"No, the reason the police haven't been able to catch him is because he has half the force in his pocket, a quarter of them addicted to his stuff, and the rest are incompetent."

"Hey wait a minute!"

"Present company excepted of course."

"Uh huh."

"Besides, he's a god of agriculture, he's just really good at growing plants. He deals with Weed, Salvia, Psilocybin and a bunch of other plants, one of which, is the fabled 'Vegan Molly' which is what he sells. It's a weed strain that produces the same chemical that is used for Ecstacy, it's the shit you keep calling Ecstasy that he's dealing, it's just designer weed though. Magic designer weed."

"Any other gods that are also leaders of criminal organizations I should know about Lass?"

I made another left, the asphalt stretching towards a cul-de-sac littered with abandoned buildings, a few more bloods were making rude gestures in my direction, and a pair of them went into a nearby garage, I saw one of them chiefing a blunt, but I was off duty, in gangland territory, and in all honesty, didn't care enough to try.

"Of course. Zeus used to be the best smut dealer back in the twenties, but now he has a human trafficking ring that would put Onlyfans to shame. I'm pretty sure he is working with Aphrodite for that one. Bastet meanwhile has her hands in every cat cafe in the world, and she has blackmail on almost every single high-ranking member of your government, as well as the governments of other places."

"You know what, maybe its better I don't know."

"Fair enough."

We drove in silence, until I could hear the distant thudding of EDM music coming from a boarded up apartment complex at the midpoint of the cul-de-sac. The occasional laser light could be seen piercing the spaces between the planks over the windows, and the front door had mist pouring out from underneath.
Standing in front of the door, was the biggest man I have ever seen in all my days, the guy stood at least six-ten, maybe seven feet in height, and he had a frown on his face that said "I get paid too much to be bribed, but too little to be standing here without a smoke."

I parked up nearby, fully expecting my cruiser to be keyed and the tires slashed by the time I got out of the building, and approached the bouncer. I was in my civvies, in a vain attempt to not look like a cop.

When I walked up to the bouncer, I heard Lascivious's voice in my head; "Let me drive for a bit."

I agreed, this was more his wheelhouse than mine, I felt my muscles relax, my whole body loose tension as Lascivious's lithe relaxed posture took over my reserved and tense one. In my defence, I was in a location that was probably drastically lowering my life expectancy just by being here.

I could feel my tongue moving, hear my voice speaking, but it wasn't me in control here. It was like dissociation, but somehow more unpleasant, I silently hoped this wasn't something I was going to need to get used to.

"Hey Buxx, you wanna let me in?" I felt my mouth take on a wry smirk as he spoke. His voice was blending with the gravel of a teenager's stupid decision to start smoking at thirteen, but still having that wierd oxford accent he always spoke in.
"Who the fuck are you? And how do you know my name?"
"Mutual friend of ours, need to speak with them, think I can pull them away from cooking the board for a bit?"

"Skye's busy, and you aren't on the list."

"Tell Skye that XiXi is here, and I want to talk to them. Just send the message, trust me."

"XiXi? Really?"

"Insufferable nickname, Xitexikti is my actual name, my summoning name, but when Quetzal heard what my nickname in the office was he thought it was so funny that he would use it himself."

The guy gave us a look, and I half expected him to tap his list and decide against letting us through, but he moved inside. A few seconds later the EDM music skipped a bit, and returned to its constant thumping rhythm, though it lacked the changes and ad-libs of a live DJ.

The bouncer came back out and said "Boss lady is upstairs, she wants to talk to you."

"She?" I said. Without speaking, Lass replied "The Gods have been around for a very long time, they change shape every once in a while to keep on the down low. Quetzal likes to change himself up all the time. We still refer to Him as Him as long as we know what he is though. He might be a female for now, but that changes fairly often."

"Anything else I need to know about gods? Don't offer them firstborns? Never apologize to them?"

"Come now Charlie they are Gods not bloody pixies, they aren't the same."

"Are those real too?"

There was silence in my head, Lass refusing to answer my question, as we walked into the makeshift bar. A neon sign that said "The Syzygy" hung above a mixboard, my senses were assaulted by the Lazer light show, strobe lights, mist and fog from nearby machines, and the occasional blast of pyrotechnics from the heavy bass and distorted vocals. "What the hell is this noise?!?"

We pushed through tides of writhing bodies, people tripping on every substance known to mankind if I were to hazard a guess, I was pretty sure a strobe revealed at least four people puffing on a massive hookah in the corner somewhere.

"I do believe Skye refers to it as 'Mayan Dream' they claim to have coined it. It's quite beautiful if you understand the tongue." "I don't speak ancient Mayan, or Aztec! I just need to get out of this overwhelming noise!"

"Upstairs then my good man, there should be a little soundproofing... Though you aren't going to like it any more than down here I'm afraid."

"Anything to get out of this shit..." Lass directed our body upstairs, past another bodyguard who gave us a curt nod, and into a long hallway lined at both sides with doors.

Beyond each door was some very loud, very sexual noises.

"Goddamn it Lass."

I just heard the demon chuckle at my misfortune, feeling my mouth quirk at the corner as the demon led me down the hall and to a door at the end. We grabbed for the worm-eaten door's handle and swung the thing open, shutting it behind us with a fair bit of dramatic flair.

I internally rolled my eyes at how idiotic we must have looked.

"You aren't skinny and red anymore Lass, you are an obese cop with... what did you say? A face like Danny Trejo?"

"Heard that one did you? Sorry, but you really should learn a thing or two about moisturizing, here, you can have your body back for a bit, I just need your voice..."

I felt control of my limbs return to me, and nearly fell the hell over from the sudden shift in stance, Lass always stands in such a weird way, like his legs are bent the wrong way round. Regaining my footing I walked further into the doorway.

I took a look around the room, most of the noise was muffled (thank God) and I could bring my mind into a state of relative calm, allowing myself to examine, and investigate. The room had aztec masks of various hues lining the walls, which were painted in viridian green.

A faux fireplace flickered digitally against one wall, pumping electric heat into the room. Above it was a flat screen TV, which was off. Also in the room was a few electronic devices, probably sound equipment and mixing boards, a pair of couches facing each other, leather. As well as a smaller version of one of the Hookah's downstairs, which had a small coal burning in the top. A young woman, thin, flat chested and pale, sat on one of the couches that faced the door, sucking at one of the tips, taking in a vast amount of smoke. Her face was littered with silver and gold piercings, and her skin was utterly flawless, with a thin pair of red lips that looked almost lizard-like as she pursed them. Her eyes were large, and a nearly unnatural shade of green.

"What do I do? Bow?"

"No, just sit on the couch, I will take it from here."

I moved onto the couch, sliding myself over the comfy cushions and trying to get comfortable, while Lascivious used my lips to speak.

"Quetzalcoatl, been a while, how's the weed/clubbing business been?"

"Fine Lass, fine." Her face was split by a brilliant smile, her teeth were filed to shark points and had what looked like small rhinestones embedded into the enamel. Her accent was difficult to place, she sounded local, but exotic at the same time, like the standard Chicago or Brooklyn accent but with a hint of something vaguely... asian? I suspected the Gods could sound like whatever they fancy.

"What brings my demonic handler to my humble abode on this fine evening? And currently inhabiting the body of someone who smells like a cop and sits like one too? I thought possession was beneath you."

"So did I Skye, so did I. But needs must when I'm driving eh? To answer your question though, I am afraid its not just to sample your latest stock, besides, this guy is a teetotaler."

"Hey!" I shouted in my head.

"Michelob Ultra and the occasional Martini does not equate to weed laced with Ecstacy my friend." He replied to my thought with his own.

Skye broke into our internal argument before I could reply

"So, if you aren't here to smoke, and you aren't here to chat, and you aren't here to talk about how your team lost yet another baseball game this year..."

"Not my fault the Red Sox have sucked since they dropped Babe Ruth."

She chuckled at his expense "If you were a gambling demon I would have you as one of Zeus's girls by now." She laughed again.

"So, if you aren't here to talk about any of that, than why have you come to petition the God of Agriculture? Oh hell-sent of Lucifer?"

"The Norse are starting to get uppity." Lass's tone suddenly got deadly serious. "I just saw a man practically possessed by Tyr sprint through a car-part machining facility, throwing blocks of very expensive steel as if it was a paperweight, and had my dear friend nearly devoured by rats sent by who-the-hell-knows which God. It was only stopped by Zeus or Susanoo or some other electricity deity causing an impossible arc flash to blast the poor man apart."

Her lips pursed again, and I could swear that the bright pink mohawk that decorated her shaven head started to sprout feathers. Her stance became more masculine as she replied. "Ah, that."

She took another drag off the hookah, and the air was filled with a thick cloud of dark smoke which began to swirl around the room.

"How much do the two of you know about Fimbulvinter?" As she spoke, the smoke started to take a different shape, a familiar shape, it started to look a lot more like Lass, it even sat next to me, reeking of skunk and roses. I felt my lips be returned to me as Lass inhabited the smoke somehow. It wasn't so much he was outside of me now, he was still in there, but it was like someone had handed his side of my soul a set of control bars for a Marionette, that being the smoke.

I wondered at that, maybe the God of Agriculture could also control the by-products of said agriculture? So weed smoke could be controlled by them just as well as the plant itself? This had some terrifying implications, but I put a pin in it for now, I would come back to it mentally later.

"Isn't that like... The Norse end of the world?" I had heard a fair bit from forensics about the Norse gods during all these investigations, so I recognized the name.

Lass shrugged "Pretty much, the gods believe that when Fimbulvinter starts, it kicks off the end times. During 1816 Odin was pretty well convinced the end had come, but when the summer finally returned the next year, he went back into hiding again. He has been sulking about the peace treaty with Yahweh for ages now, but he was largely the only Norse god who held this opinion."

Things must have changed, but what?

I started to set up a mental corkboard in my head, surprisingly it was easier to visualize things when half your mind was taken up by another. I took "End of World." and "Odin" and "Suspect" Connecting them with mental red thread.

"Odin sees the end times as a chance at a new beginning, believing that once the new world starts, the Aesir will be the true gods of the new world, that we and Yahweh are mere pretenders, powerful, but pretenders nonetheless. The fact that he cannot see into any other god's future does not help his mental state. He's been struggling with his perceived weakness for decades now. He must have seen something that spooked the other Gods into action."

Lass leaned back, the smoke of his marionette sinking into the cushions. "So he wants to bring about the end of the world, by releasing what? Jormungandr?"

I added that to the board in my head, but realized I didn't know a damn thing about what he just said, I also didn't have that much info on Fimbulvinter either, frustrated I said

"Could someone explain to me what the hell we are talking about? Who the fuck is Jormungandr? What even is Fimbulvinter supposed to be?"

"Well." Lass began. "Fimbulvinter is said to be an unending winter, cold, pure, infinite, that kills everything and everyone and brings about the coming of Ragnarok, it's the first omen of the end. Jormungandr is the great Serpent that Thor is supposed to kill before dying himself. Or at least it would be, if Thor was still kicking."

I stopped him there "Thor's dead?"

"Sort of, he isn't dead dead, but he expended too much of his power, and now he is really just a regular guy with an infinite lifespan. Last I heard he joined the Hells Angels to go 'Find Himself' or something. To a god? That's practically dying."

"So Odin wants to bring the Serpent, Jormungand, into being so Thor can kill it?"

"No, he wants to bring it into being so it can destroy the world, and so a new one can be formed. He doesn't care about prophecy anymore, his prophecy has failed him time and time again, and because of that, he's lost his mind. He's just gone completely mad." Quetzal took another deep pull on the hookah. "He's probably decided that that is what the Gods must do, and for some reason the rest of the Norse gods are going with him. That's why he has a prophet after all these years."

I reshuffled the cards on my mental corkboard.

"So Odin wants to end the world, why not just do it himself?"

Quetzal leaned forward, the tip of the hookah gently smoking between his teeth as he spoke

"Because my dear lawman, that's not how Gods do things. Acting of our own accord when we could have some adherent or worshipper do it for us means we expend far less power, and we don't need to risk our souls in the process. We prefer catspaws, pawns if you will, doing it ourselves would likely result in an all out battle between the gods. Should that happen, Yahweh steps in, and that's bad for all of us, humanity included."

So we have a motive, and we explained the means, the why and the how, but we were still missing the full picture. Where was the prophet now? Where is Odin?

"Can we talk to Odin?" I asked, just as I did, it was interrupted by a cellphone ringing, I reached down to find that it was my cell, and the caller ID just said "Chief."

I held it up to Lass, and he gave me a shocked look "Uh oh."

I answered it.

"Charlie, it's your boss. Some suit or another wants to see you, says its important... He... He's with the government. They took your case, and, they want you to lead it. I don't get what's going on here man, but as of this moment, I'm rescinding your suspension. Get. Back. Here."

He hung up.

"Ohh shit." Lass said.

"Looks like you need a ride." Quetzal said

"What do you mean? My car's outside..."

He smiled. "Was... Was outside. Or at least, it had wheels. here, I'll drive you, then I will call the other gods in for a summit, we can discuss it there, find out from Odin himself what he's up to."

"And if he doesn't show up?"

"Then its war." He said, his voice going cold, serpentine, and deeply masculine.

I was led out of the club by the pink haired girl... guy? Deity, and led into a hidden back door which led to some kind of side-street garage. The vehicle I was escorted to was an original Rolls-Royce, a fine and beautiful vehicle with leather seats, and it would have been the pride of the asphalt if it weren't for one thing.

It was hot pink.

"Jesus Christ."

"He's not around right now, so you get me instead." Quetzal laughed as he got into the car, and we sped in the direction of Headquarters.

I went to the floor the Chief of Police was on when I arrived, walking past desks and tables and hearing the occasional whisper from my fellow detectives. The office was surprisingly quiet today, lacking the hustle and bustle of your usual weekday, but I knew better than to say that aloud as I moved in the direction of the chief's office.

I knocked on the door and heard a gruff "Come in."

I opened the door and stepped inside only to see the tall and formidable figure of a black man with a pair of thick shades and slicked black hair. He looked for all the world like one of those MIB's that you hear conspiracy theorists talk about, but he had tattoos on his face and neck which suggested a past life as a violent criminal, which clashed with the professional suit and tie attire.

He spoke with a deep resonant tone, chesty and solid, with a faint twang that suggested some southern state or another, I absentmindedly gravitated towards the coffee pot in the chief's office as he began to speak, shaking his hand as I went.

"Detective Ramirez." He began. "Charlie, please, I was always a first-name type of cop." I replied.

The man's face did something I was looking for, a sort of upturning of the lip, a disgust face barely hidden by his well-trained attitude. I was avoiding eye-contact, finding distractions like coffee or finding a good spot to lean against, trying to annoy the guy. I was attempting to get a read on the guy below the suit.

"Nice ink, looks like prison variety?" I said before he had the chance to reply. My boss groaned in protest but I continued. I never liked when the suits took our cases even as a beat cop, and I certainly wasn't going to start liking it just because he was gonna let me stay on.

"My past life was not the most agreeable Detective, Charlie. Chief I would like a moment alone with the Detective if that's alright."

"In my fuckin' office? No its not alright!"

"Chief, do not take my politeness in saying 'if that's alright' to suggest you had a choice in the matter." The man stared, stone-faced.

The Chief looked like he might back down, but I spoke up. "Nah, I know a good place we can speak in confidence, you want an interrogation? I can give you an interrogation." I started to lead the suit out of the room.

"Very well, if you insist Detective." The suit followed me into one of the interrogation rooms. I had him sit down, locked the door, unplugged the camera on the wall, switched off the recording devices, and even went beyond the one-way glass and locked the door over there.

"There. Privacy. What did you want to say to me?" I said as the government suit began to smile.

This conversation was not going to be a pleasant one, I could feel it in my bones.