"The Freemasons?" asked a puzzled Agent CampDog, surveying the carnage following the chaos of the most violent and savage bar brawl that he had ever seen.
"Yep, yah cowering chicken arse prick," said Mando, tossing to the timber floor the metallic skull of the former captain of Uber Awesome Industries soccer team, "the flaming fudging Freemasons."
"Oh please," commented Danny, checking her sneakers for signs of damage following the vast array of kicks she delivered to the fembot soccer players, "don't get her started or we'll be listening to her rant for hours."
"They run the world Danny," said Mando, "they run everything, and when I say 'they' what I mean is the Rothchilds of course. They got their greedy fingers in every pie, they're the puppet masters, they're the flaming arseholes manipulating us all. I knew they were behind Uber Awesome Industries, propping up an evil Satanic energy matrix to feed the endless gluttony of the flaming military industrial complex and their flaming chemtrails.
"They're the ones pushing the idea that the world is round when it's clearly flat cause we never went to the moon in the first place. They are the same flaming flogs who push the idea that the demons in the sky are aliens. How can they be aliens? What, they just smashed through the firmament like it's a dodgy concrete job? And every one else who is clearly asleep, thinks the British Royal Family are ordinary people when in reality, they're actually shapeshifting space lizards who front for the Illuminati who have a secret underground base beneath Denver International Airport.
"They're the ones who told everyone they needed a jab to stop the flaming rona when what that crap was really about was giving us all autism while simultaneously depopulating the Earth so that they can horde all of the resources for QAnon. And I tell you what, 9/11 was a fudging inside job orchestrated by libtards and their unicorn riding cronies the Scottish mafia who used the CIA to assassinate JFK because Marilyn Monroe was going to tell the press that energy vampires were at the top of the food chain.
"And don't get me started about HAARP, weather control and directed energy weapons. HAARP's got nothing to do with weather control and more to do with these demonic diabolical flogs using necromancy to bring Elvis back from the flaming dead and herald in the coming of the antichrist and the Dark Age of Aquarius! For fudge sake – it's about turning all of the frogs gay! You just gotta follow the dots."
"Oh, I know that I am following the dots alright," replied CampDog, "and they lead like bread crumbs to the front gate of the funny farm. Nothing you just rambled makes any sense and frankly, my brain hurts from hearing it all."
"Awe, so I guess you think that veganism is for health reasons and not because mice are Djinn in disguise?" retorted Mando, right before she prodded CampDog three times in the chest, "and I bet you think that Hitler wasn't in contact with evil demons from another dimension."
"Far out," groaned CampDog in frenzied annoyance, "your logic is inherently flawed, like, why fuel tension between nations so the military industrial complex can sell more guns, tanks and bombs while simultaneously reducing the amount of people on Earth who can buy and use these weapons?
"And," CampDog continued, "don't even begin to trivialise Hitler with conspiracy theories. That monster was responsible for the murder of more than six million Jews – men, women and children! This occurred in extermination camps, chiefly in Auschwitz-Birkenau, Treblinka, Belzec, Sobibor and Chełmno in occupied Poland!"
"Fudge off yah tosser, I'm not a holocaust denier," retorted Mando, "Hitler was a fudging bad egg who deserved a bullet, but unfortunately, he fled to Argentina in a parallel dimension to start an alpaca farm,"
Danny groaned in annoyance at CampDog, "Why did you just say all of that to her?"
"Because," replied CampDog, "she needs to pull her head out of the sand and hear the truth!"
"I'll give you some free advice, yah bearded up blockhead," said Mando and she leaned in to CampDog, "only the ignorant call the truth a conspiracy … so, why don't you shut your trap from flapping and pull your own head out of your own arse."
"Oh," said CampDog in defiance, he lit up a cigarette, "I'm just getting started, so pack your bags because we're going on a debunk…" he paused to grab a bottle of tequila spared from being turned into a weapon during the brawl, poured himself a shot, downed it, took in a deep breath and said, "misunderstandings about the Freemasons are due to their historical secrecies and symbolic rituals, they are about fellowship, charity and self-improvement and not some dumb arse conspiracy like global control.
"Conspiracy theories about the Rothchilds greatly exaggerate their power and influence and completely ignores the complex dynamics of finance and the diversity of power structures. Chemtrails are simply contrails consisting of water vapour and ice crystals – remnants of jet exhaust interacting with the atmosphere.
"The Earth is not flat, its curved! We can clearly see the curvature from high altitudes. Satellites in space also confirm the Earth is a globe, not to mention that gravitational forces across the globe are consistent, all of which clearly indicate that Earth is round and not flat … like your head!"
"Awe, so yah wanna go too yah tosser?" asked Mando, taking a few steps towards CampDog.
CampDog raised his right hand, pointing his index finger upwards to signify 'wait a sec' as he sculled another shot, followed by taking in another large breath, "and I could continue to easily debunk every crackpot conspiracy you waffled but I won't, other than to say that you are dead wrong about aliens being demons. Trust me, aliens exist and I should know, because I am one!"
"Pfft," replied Mando, "sounds like you just debunked everything that you just said, yah dumb arse knob jockey."
"No," replied CampDog, "I am indeed an alien – from an Earth like moon orbiting a different version of Earth in a parallel dimension."
"So," smiled Mando sarcastically, "from another dimension hey? So, you're claiming to be a demon then?"
"No, not a demon you ignoramus, but an alien."
"From another dimension, then?"
"Yep."
Mando scoffed and looked at Danny, "See Danny … he's a demon."
"I'm not a demon," scoffed CampDog.
"Yeah," replied Mando, "that's exactly what a demon would say."
"Awe for fudge sake, I'm not a fudging—"
"Silence!" It was then that the massive Norwegian man wiped the burger grease from his hands with a napkin, finished off his Heineken and followed on in near perfect pronunciation of English with a subtle hint of a Scandinavian accent, "Well that was an epic bash, I do enjoy watching you girls getting into a good biff," he stood to his feet. The man was truly massive at almost eight feet in height and built like an Icelandic strongman, "You two Valkyries are indeed having fun in Midgard."
Danny and Mando looked at the giant of a man and then at each other in puzzlement.
The mound of muscle just smiled, "One of you is here as punishment while the other is here by choice."
"What crap you flapping from your trap?" Mando queried, "What flaming fart'n are you shart'n from your Heineken guzzling poop chute, big fella?"
The mountain of a man smiled and stomped towards Danny and Mando, he gently beckoned them to approach which they did, looking at each other in confusion as they felt for some reason, compelled to step forward. The giant placed each of his huge hands gently on the head of each woman. He continued to smile as golden shimmering light appeared from his palms, illuminating the tops of each woman's head. The women just looked at each other in confusion.
"Mm," said the giant bloke, "it usually works most of the time … oh well, I guess it'll just have to be the old fashion way then," he proceeded to knock both of their heads together like a set of bongo drums.
He took a step back, placing his hands on his hips. He stood there, waiting for the effects of the golden light and knocking of noggins to kick in.
Danny looked at Mando and vice versa. Their shared confusion gradually changed to expressions of recollection and realisation.
"Oh," said Danny, she looked around, at Mando and then at the giant of a man, "I remember."
"Yep," agreed Mando, "so do I."
"Your real names?" the mountain of a man asked.
"My real name," began Danny, "is Brynhildr. Punished by your dad to walk in a perpetual state of sleep in Midgard, and why?" she said with a mild hint of anger, "because I had the audacity to save two baby boys from the jaws of alien monsters? I guess what your dad meant by 'perpetual state of sleep' was to forget everything, including the fact I have these!" she said as two magnificent wings with shining metallic gold feathers shot out from her shoulder blades.
"Holy smoke!" exclaimed CampDog, "you're a Valkyrie?"
"And I'm flaming Skögu," added Mando, "I came to this bung hole Midgard to find me friend Brynno here. I couldn't shake her flaming amnesia so I decided to make me-self forget who I was as well. But now I remember everything, I don't have wings," she shook her left arm forward and in a flash of golden light a silver shield appeared strapped to her forearm while a glistening short sword appeared in her right hand, "but I have these bitches, yah big arse bitch."
"You shouldn't have returned to Asgard Skögu," said the Scandinavian giant, "the Aesir value your decision making, your judgement and down-to-Midgard common sense."
"Why are you here Thor? Yah flaming big arse ranga?" she asked.
Thor sighed, "Bloody Baldur's gone on bender again."
"So, flaming what? It's not like he doesn't do that all of the flaming time. Probably got pissed like a triquillion parakeet, banged a bunch of chicks and dudes and is sleeping it off under a tree somewhere. You remember that time I found him passed out under a Hibiscus shrub on a traffic island in downtown Honolulu?"
"Yes, I remember," said Thor, "but this time, it's different," he said with concern.
"Yeah, and how's that?"
"He's been gone too long, 93 Midgard years to be exact … and he took Bödvarr Bjarki with him."
"What?" asked Mando, "that fat arse punce of a big arse? You know that boofhead identifies as a brown bear, right?"
Thor shook his head and waved his hands in mild dismissal, "Everyone knows the big fellow has identity issues, no need to be getting all politically incorrect Skögu, live and let live."
"My name's now Mando yah red arse ranga," replied Mando, "and you can dress it up about Bjarki anyway you want, but he's a fudging furry."
"Yes, well," conceded Thor, "we all have our issues."
Mando stroked her chin and pondered, "Baldur would only take Bjarki, if he needed to ride Bjarki while he was in his," she made quote gestures with her fingers, "bear mode, and he'd only do that if he was planning to travel infinitely long distances on the Bifrost bridge. They could be anywhere or when in the pan cosmos."
"Have you tried calling him?" asked Danny.
"Yeah, I tried that," said Thor, pacing around the bar in a worrying manner, "Mum and Dad tried to call him as well, but he isn't picking up."
"Well, did you try sending him a flaming text or something?" asked Mando.
"Of course, Skögu, but he isn't responding to our texts either," Thor kicked the metallic skull of the former captain of the Uber Han Industries soccer team, sending it soaring through a window, shattering the glass, "the pretty boy prick also has his location switched off. Last time he had it on was here, in Midgard, in Amsterdam."
"Yeah, well sorry that I'm not sorry, fudge you Thor, fudge that big pineapple of a brother of yours and tell your dad to shovel Fenrir's monstrous turds from the front lawns of Valhalla, and you know where he can shovel that sherbet, don't you? I'm the flaming captain of my fudging ship and I will decide what I flaming do and when I fudging do it.
"I will decide when to fight and who to biff," Mando ranted as he looked around the wreckage of the blues bar, "like what just happened here with what's left of these bunch of cheating, cybernetic scrags … and I tell you what mate, I don't give a pair of ice cubes in a frost giant's ball sack what her real name is," she said pointing to Brynhildr, "her name now is Danny and my name now is Mando," she stepped towards Thor, prodding the god of thunder twice in his sternum as she said, "and where from the Switch bitch, we got lives back there and everything. So, you can fudge right off."
"Fiery as always, Skögu," replied Thor.
"It's Mando," corrected Mando, "yah red bearded boofhead."
"Awe man," complained Agent Camp Dog, breathing out a heavy sigh, "I just wanna go back to jamming AC/DC's Thunderstruck on my porcelain throne. Ultra terrestrial Dutch Gerbils trying to extract my brain, Big Budgie ghosting me, bar brawls and arguments between egregores and their tulpa minions. This mission's gone way too pear shaped for my liking… And just where the hell is Agent Hulio?"