When we were topside again, I teleported Steve and me to my apartment, which was covered in crime scene tape. He didn't seem to be able to teleport himself. My phone began to blow up with calls from various police departments and news channels.

How they got my phone number in the first place I didn't know. I answered the phone for the Las Vegas police first, because they had been the chillest with me in the past.

"This is Dave. Leave a message after the beep. Beep," I said.

"Oh, uh, Dave, this is the Las Vegas police calling. Please call us back when you get this message," a nervous police officer said.

"Hey! This isn't actually a voicemail. I was just kidding!" I said.

"Whoa! Ah! Ok. I see. Do you have a moment to come by and sit down with us? We just have a few questions. This is Officer Drew, from before, when I pulled you over? I gave you a ride to a sperm bank?" Officer Drew said.

"Oh, hi, Officer Drew. Yeah, I remember. I made sure to get some extra sperm from the bank just for you," I said.

"Oh. Really?" he asked.

"No, I was just kidding again," I said.

"Oh, good, because that would have been gross," he said.

"That's why it was a joke," I said.

"Right. Well, if you could drop by sometime today, that would be great," he said.

"Does now work?" I asked.

"What do you mean by now? Like in 15 or 30 minutes? How long is it going to take you to get here? Especially considering you don't have a crazy contraption of a car anymore," he said.

"About thirty seconds. I just have to tell my friend I'm leaving," I said.

"Oh. Ok. I don't pretend to understand how you're going to accomplish that, but we'll see you when you get here. Here being the Las Vegas Police Department. Which is somehow still standing," he said.

"Right. Alright I'm hanging up now," I said.

"You do that," he said as I hung up.

I turned to Steve, who was waiting patiently on the couch.

"Hey Steve. So I have to go to the Police Department and talk some things out with the boys. Are you good to hang out here?" I said.

"Yeah. Do you have anything to do?" he said.

"Yeah, you can watch TV. Here I'll turn it on for you," I said, turning on the TV to a channel that played mostly cop procedurals.

"Oh, cool! Alright. I'll wait here until you return," Steve said. "You're still taking 'sword me' with you right?"

"Yes," I laughed.

"Ok," he said, turning his attention to the TV. He laughed. "That's hilarious!"

I looked at the TV, and the cops were just examining a dead body. Huh. I guess we all find different things funny. I teleported to just outside the Las Vegas Police Department and walked inside.

"You really did mean thirty seconds. Wow. Ok. Come with me. We have a lot to discuss," he said.

"Before we start, I have to say go easy on the cuffs. They chafe my wrists. And my safe word is 'banana,'" I said.

"Don't worry. We won't be putting any cuffs on you. From what I've heard, that doesn't work on you," he said.

"You're right. It doesn't. I just break them accidentally," I said.

"Sounds like a nice problem to have," he laughed.

"You can say that, but I wouldn't. I just want to get along. I don't want to look like I'm constantly resisting arrest," I said.

"From what I've heard, you have, in fact, resisted arrest a couple times," he said as we walked into an interrogation room.

I figured it was standard procedure. I'd seen people talk to police in their offices before on TV, but I wasn't entirely sure what circumstances dictated which room you got to talk to the police in.

"Yeah, once. One of those times, I was just resisting being shot to death by a trigger-happy detective," I said.

"I don't know the full circumstances of the incident, so I'll take your word for it," he said.

We both sat down in uncomfortable aluminum chairs with a table between us. It was a mostly empty room with fluorescent lights and a one-way mirror on one wall. He laid down a folder with some papers in it. I knew he couldn't do anything serious to me, so I grabbed the folder and pulled it over to me.

I opened it and started flipping through it. It had pictures of me in various places doing various things. In one of them I was picking my nose, but I was pretty sure that was photoshopped.

"Hey! You can't do that!" he said, trying to grab the folder back.

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I gently put my hand on the folder, and he couldn't take it from me. What felt like the tiniest pressure to me was insurmountable to him.

"I can't?" I raised an eyebrow. "Do you want an open, friendly, and transparent discussion with me, or do you want to keep secrets and be antagonistic? The choice is yours." I took my hand off the folder.

He looked at me, then at the folder, then at me again, and took his hand off the folder. He sat back down and fixed his shirt, which had become wrinkled.

"Since you are not currently being charged with anything and as a show of good faith, I will allow you to peruse the file we have on you, but know that we don't normally allow this," he said.

"I understand. These are extraordinary circumstances. I did just save the world from complete and utter destruction," I said. "Well, not just, I guess. I saved it a week ago, but you know what I mean."

"I think I do, but elaborate," Drew said.

"Ok. Before I start, I understand there will be a burden of proof placed on me due to the unbelievable nature of what I'm about to tell you. I'd like to get that out of the way first. Do you have anything really difficult to bend or break that I can use to prove my strength?" I said.

"Hmm. Would a coffee mug work?" he said.

"It better not be something you like. I'm not going to destroy your '#1 Dad' mug. That's horrific," I said.

"Ok, what about a rock from outside?" he asked.

"Sure," I said.

Officer Drew looked at the one-way mirror and said, "Can someone get a rock?"

We heard some shuffling, and then a voice came over a speaker. "Yes. Hold on."

"They better not bring in that wrestler turned actor, or I'm going to lose my shit," I said.

"They wouldn't do that. That would be ridiculous," he said.

The door opened, and someone came in, placed something on the table, and left. I examined the object. It was a granite plaque that said, "Employee of the Year - Janet Meyer."

"What did I just say? I'm not destroying someone's achievement. I'm not crushing Janet's granite," I said.

The same voice came over the speaker. "Don't worry. She has twenty of those."

"She has twenty Employee of the Year awards? I'd like to meet this person. She sounds amazing," I said. "Still, though, I'm not breaking this. That's just messed up."

"Fine," the voice said.

A minute later, the same person walked in as before and put a fist sized rock on the table.

I picked it up and rolled it in my hands. "Now, this is what I'm talking about. This I can work with." I held the rock in my right hand. "Make sure you get this on camera."

I slowly squeezed the rock harder and harder until cracks began to form on the surface. Then it began to break apart until it crumbled into pieces in my hand.

"See? I just did something no normal human can do. Especially not someone of my size," I said. I poured what was left of the rock onto the right side of the table, out of the way of my arms.

Drew looked at the pile of crumbled rock, dumbfounded. "You certainly met a burden of proof in terms of unbelievable things. Now, what are you going to tell me?"

"This is going to sound even more unbelievable than what I just showed you, but please try to wrap your heads around it. Hell exists. Hell is real. Demons are real. Angels are real. God is real. And the Devil is real," I said.

Drew breathed a sigh of relief. "Any god fearing Christian believes that."

"Here comes the hard part. I am the new administrator of Hell. I recently replaced Lucifer, who has re-ascended into Heaven as a reformed angel. They needed someone to fill the position, and since I was the one who initiated his reformation, they gave the job to me," I said.

"Ok, now I'm lost," he said, blinking rapidly.

"Lucifer, the Devil, was in charge of Hell. He asked God for forgiveness for his sins and God forgave him. God re-instated Lucifer as an angel. Are you with me so far?" I said.

"Yes, I think so," he said, straightening up in his chair.

"That left a vacancy at the top of Hell's corporate structure. The CEO position was open. You still with me?" I said.

"Yes. This is making sense," he said.

"I got Lucifer to reform. So they offered me his old job," I said.

"Ok, I get it now," he said. "But you said no, right?"

"I tried to, but they kind of had me in a corner. Saying yes was the only legitimate option," I said, putting my hands together.

"Ok. So that makes you the Devil?" he said.

"Sort of. Devil is a classification that refers to fallen angels. Lucifer was the Devil with a capital 'D', because he was the devil in charge. I am a human, not a devil. So the title shouldn't really apply to me, but since the ruler of Hell was called the Devil for so long, the two have become synonymous. So in the sense that I am the ruler of Hell, yes I am the Devil," I said.

"So you're a bad guy, then?" Drew asked.

"No," I said.

"How? Why not?" Drew asked.

"I'm just in charge of running Hell, the place they keep people who have chosen to separate themselves from God. I don't have to tempt people towards Hell or entice them. I'm just in charge of managing the demons and human souls in Hell. That's all. Oh, and stopping early apocalypses, and basically whatever God tells me to do," I said.

"I see. So you're not a bad guy?" He said.

"No. I'm not," I said.

"Are you a good guy?" he asked.

"Arguably. I would say so," I said.

"Ok. So we wanted to find out what happened with the destroying of Vegas and the fight in Reno and why an inactive volcano has suddenly become active again. But it sounds like you want something more than that," he said.

"I do. I want special access to crime scenes and all law enforcement and intelligence data. This would help me keep the world safe from future apocalypses and other disasters," I said.

"I can't personally grant you access to all of that. I can probably get you access to crime scenes in Las Vegas and the data of the Las Vegas Police Department, but that's it," he said.

"Can you share this video with all law enforcement and intelligence agencies and give them my phone number and email?" I asked.

"Yeah, we can probably do that. I'll have to ask the chief, but that doesn't sound unreasonable to me," he said.

A different voice came over the speaker. "Tell him the Chief is ok with it, says me, the Chief."

"Ok. Looks like the Chief is ok with those things," he said with a smile.

"Yeah, I heard that. Not meaning to be rude or anything," I said.

"That's fine. Ok, so now that we have your requests settled, do you want to tell us what happened?" he said.

"Sure," I said.

I explained everything that happened from just before the bet to the bet, and everything that happened after, including the party and the trial. Even with everything I had already told them, they had a hard time believing Mole People existed, but I eventually got them over that hump.

They let me take the Bubble with me and when I asked for the medallions that the other police department had taken, they said they would call over there and let me know the results.

I ended up teleporting myself and the Bubble back to the little cave alcove where it originally launched from. As I was putting it back on the tracks that led into the magma, I wondered why I didn't just teleport Steve and me down here for the trial.

It would have been slightly faster than the elevator, but then I wouldn't have met up with Lucifer in the way that I did. So I guessed everything worked out for the best.

After I was done, I teleported back to my apartment. Steve was still there watching TV, which I realized was probably the best thing for him right now. You could learn a lot about life and society from TV if you had no other interaction with people to learn from. I wondered if they had TV in Hell.

After assuring Steve that everything was fine, I texted Margaret and told her I found a way to still date her. She was pleased and excited. I asked her where she wanted to meet for our date and when. She said right now and outside her work, which I knew to be the Fortress of Bureaucracy.

So I took a quick look in the mirror, brushed my teeth, mussed up my hair, and put on my favorite shirt, which I was already wearing, told Steve I would be gone for a bit, and teleported to the Fortress of Bureaucracy.