“What am I shooting at?” “Not the bridge, Heimdall’s on the bridge. But anything else that moves!” snapped the she-devil. “We might lose a few dragons, but there are aliens inside the shell.” Loser craphole, thought Modgud sulkily, opening a window on his wrist computer. At least we acknowledge the existence of technology down here. At least we’re not relying on archaic phone calls and bong codes. “I can mentalbrain what you’re thinking!” screeched Hel. “Something about tents and cake!” Modgud activated the cannons with a few taps on his screen. God help us, he thought. But not the gods we
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