Orange Crush

Interlude 1 - Moments Of Vision

At least three snakes had left Purgatorio in the last few weeks, according to Samael's sources. None of them were Orange Crushes as far as he knew, which was only a good thing because even his little brother wasn't stupid enough to give up his most valuable asset by far. The sources had done their best to identify which types of snakes they were, but were only able to do so for one of them. A Blue Painkisser. Mid-level value at best, but not nearly as high as the Orange Crush. Which was exactly how Samael liked it, given that the Painkisser's unique venom allowed it to breed an addiction epidemic. Its venom, as well as its friendly nature, far more so than any other snake species on this planet.

What those other two snakes were, though, was unknown.

But the fact that they had gone to one of those Terras that Father had made many eons ago, it meant that Josh was looking to bring in his reinforcements. Who were they? Well, Samael had his suspicions. Even before meeting Josh, those twin Breakers had done so much dimension-hopping, universe-hopping...exactly the sort of shit for which Father would have tacked on another million years to his sentence here on this planet. And yet, he hadn't. Why?

There were too many potential answers to that question, but none that Samael could settle on. Father was too inscrutable and too omnipotent to pin down any definable motive except for "I wanted it here and now."

Which.

Again.

Why was he, Samael, the one suffering for his self-interest?

Well, that was a question to be answered another day.

For now, though, he would have to start deploying countermeasures against the twins' progress. Assuming, of course, they were on their way to the nearest transfer point to Purgatorio. Where would that be? There were only so many on any of the three Terras, and it all depended on which one they went to first. Probably Heaven, where the one still-living Primer twin was. And they were American? Naturally, because what other Terran nationality would have such a bad case of buttinsky disease?

Alaska, then.

The local deities there didn't take kindly to him, and had been trying to seal that transfer point for years, to utter failure each time. Thus far. Last he'd heard, they were planning to trigger another earthquake in Anchorage to close the gate for good. Hopefully not a catastrophic one like the kind they'd set off on all three Terras in 1964. A rare event that happened on all three, but being so powerful, all three had had to share the magical load lest the usual two out of three dimensions suffer real world-breakage.

So no Alaskan tribal deities he could ask for help. Perhaps the Norse? They came from a similar land and climate. It shouldn't be too much trouble, logically speaking. Loki, in particular, reveled in the fair, sweet embrace of chaos. And yet he was such a meticulous planner, enough to really be rooted in bringing order from that chaos.

Samael found Loki in the contacts menu on his phone and made the call. "Loki, min venn, hei!"

He could almost hear Loki's smile as he continued the opening line to that Norwegian rock song he loved so much, though with one key lyrical change. "'Hvor enn du er din verden?'"

Samael switched to English with a phrase he'd seen a few mortal novelists from Loki's old lands make surprisingly heavy use of. "Same old."

Loki kept going in the same language, though with a strong, singsong Norse accent. "Well, ever since Hiddleston stopped boosting my image on the big screen, I've been a little more down on my luck than I'd care to admit."

"Then consider this me offering you a new job. Not much, but I'll pay for it in two Black Glaciers."

"I have one already. Can't you spare me one of those Orange Crushes you prize so much?"

He had to know that was never going to happen, but Samael was always open to a good haggle. "Make it one more Black Glacier and a lifetime Alaskan fishing license on the Terra of your choice. Plus a dinner of Alaskan salmon and Kelbian onkorynchus."

"Those are basically the same thing."

"Yeah, but no kitchen puts them together like mine does."

Loki sighed loudly. "Beggars can't be choosers, I guess. What's the job?"

Samael allowed himself, for the first time in decades, a smile. "Picture this, my friend. The Alaskans don't like me, so on my behalf, you're gonna give them exactly what they want."