Thor, Catrina, Chester A. Arthur XVII, and Queen Victoria XXX, heavily armed and more or less determined, walked down the street, stepping over the occasional dead tourist or twitching brochure-hawker, and made their way to the casino.
Quetzalcoatl saw their approach and waved from his perch.
“He seems nice,” said Queen Victoria XXX.
“What, uh, what do we do now?” asked Catrina confusedly. “Call him out? Throw a rock?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII, shouldering a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. The president aimed at the Aztec god and pulled the trigger. The projectile hit Quetzalcoatl in the face and exploded.
“Aren’t you supposed to add some kind of witty taunt to that?” asked Thor.
“I thought I did.”
“Well, that was kind of oblique, you know? I was thinking something more direct, like, ‘knock, knock, bitch.’”
“That doesn’t really seem like something I would say, though.”
“I don’t know. I think you could pull it off.”
“You sure? I’m really more of a speech guy.”
“Uh, guys,” said Catrina, pointing toward a swooping and pissed off Quetzalcoatl, “shut up and do something.”
“Fuck.”
Quetzalcoatl slammed into the ground with tremendous force, shattering the sidewalk beneath him. The shockwave knocked the girls to the ground, while the reborn god’s whipping tail caught Thor at the knee and spun him face-first into the pavement. Chester A. Arthur XVII, however, managed to remain standing. He raised his RPG, only to remember it was unloaded.
“Fuck!”
Quetzalcoatl slammed his fist into Chester’s face, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling across the sidewalk.
“Knock, knock, bitches,” said Quetzalcoatl.
“Oh, come on,” said Thor, picking himself up from the ground. “That was ours! It doesn’t even fit what you’re doing.”
“I was knocking you guys on your asses, it totally fit.”
“That’s stretching it, man,” explained Thor, pointing the igniter of his flamethrower at Quetzalcoatl and pulling the trigger. “See, right now, I’m setting you on fire. So what I’m going to do is make some kind of crack about the heat. Or grilling. Something like, ‘I hope you like your gods well done.’ Or maybe, ‘I don’t know where I’m going to find a tortilla big enough for this,’ since you’re Mexican and all. Although that might be a little too racially insensitive, I’m not really sure.”
“I’m cool with it,” said Quetzalcoatl, shrugging and being doused in flames.
“Oh, good,” said Thor. “I kind of like that one.”
“You mind terribly if I tried again?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“OK,” said Quetzalcoatl, still being bathed in a jet of flame. “How about, ‘Tell the electricians I said “hi.”’”
“Well, no, see, that’s actually worse. There’re no electricians here, it makes even less sense.”
Quetzalcoatl pointed toward the building on the far side of the casino’s property, specifically the marquee stating “West Coast Construction Workers Conference” in tall, bright, easily-read letters.
“Crap,” said Thor, extinguishing the flamethrower. “Nice one.”
“I thought so.”
In a single, astoundingly quick motion, Quetzalcoatl slid his way to Thor’s side, grabbed him by the face, and pushed, sending Thor sailing over the Excalibur’s entranceway and through the window of the neighboring convention hall.