Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse nor the characters, within it: Nathan Explosion, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, Toki Wartooth, William Murderface, Pickles, the Klokateers, Facebones, Mr. Selatcia and his council, or anything else originally designed by brilliant creators. I also do not make any money off of this and write this story out of pure love of the show and boredom of sitting in an airport for over 12 hours with nothing else to do.
October: Halloween Falls of Friday the 13th? Or The Band Gets Pussy
I live again.
I hear his black heart calling out to me.
It craves my caress.
The touch of his queen.
There was a shudder within the earth as is stretched its lithe limbs, ripping free from the enchainment of vines. Outside, the priests who guarded this cursed temple trembled as they watched the forming black clouds overhead. It has awakened. Man-kind is doomed. A gust of wind unbound the sacred talismans and dispersed the sage barrier. A boom of thunder sounded, quaking the holy men to their knees as a pair of glowing golden eyes peered from within the temple. They could see the twisted white smile, the licking of lushes lips. Then, in a gentle breeze, it was gone.
Charles Offensen was attempting to hold yet another conference with the musical powerhouse known as Dethklok. "Alright guys, as you know, it's time to get started on our next record. You all said you wanted to take a bit of time off to relax, and I allowed that, now, let's get back to—"
"Heys guys," the brown haired rhythm guitarist interrupted. Charles finished his statement in a mumbled voice. "Does Halloweens ever falls on Fridays the thirtheenths?" Toki had been trying to figure this out for a couple of days now.
"Don'ts be stupids Tokis," The blond lead guitarist Toki so admired responded first.
"Yeah Toki, don't be such a dumb ass," The base guitarist snorted.
"I'm nots the dumb ass, Merdersface," Toki huffed indignantly. This was a legitimate question that has been plaguing his mind.
Before the rest of the band could comment, Charles took hold of the conversation, "I'm afraid that is literally impossible Toki, as Halloween is on the thirty-first of October, and therefore can never be on the thirteenth. Now, about the new record-"
"But," Toki once again interjected, "it woulds be pretty brutals if it was right?"
The entire room was quiet as everyone looked at Toki. Why does he continue to press this issue?
Finally the lead singer speaks, "Yea…I guess it would be pretty brutal. Halloween falling on the most unluckiest day of the year…" Unfortunately for Charles, it looked like Nathan Explosion was thinking.
"Indeed," Charles spoke slowly, "now, back to—"
"Hey, what day is it anyways?" This time, the never sober red head drummer spoke. He wasn't trying to be humorous by any means. It's just that this morning he had finally awoken from his drug and alcohol induced blackout and forgotten until now to ask the date.
"It is October the thirtieth," Charles informed, losing patience, " and tomorrow the band has a very important press meeting to release the new coming album to the—"
"To-tomorrow?" Murderface stammered.
"Well yes."
"What the hell Charles?" Nathan Explosion asked, utterly appalled, "And you're just now bringing this up?"
The band manager summoned all of his patience as he stared at the lead singer. "Actually Nathan, if you recall, I have been talking about this since May when you all decided you wanted to take a 'summer break'."
"I don't remember that?" Pickles stated, although, admittedly, his drinking habits cause him not to remember a lot of things.
"Yea, I don'ts remembers thats, eithers," Skwisgaar agreed, "You expects us to just comes ups with new ideas and records like we're some kinds of wizards?"
"Yea," Toki chimed in, "We're not likes some kinds of wizards that's can just makes news ideas and records ands things!"
Skwisgaar glared at Toki thoroughly annoyed, "Yea, I'ds just saids thats."
"Look, guys," Charles tried to resolve, "No one is saying you have to come up with the album now. I just want us to take time to think of what to say during the interview."
To this, Murderface snorted and spat on the floor. "What do you mean think of what to say?"
"I just—"
The crude base player continued, "If people don't like what we say, they can all suck my millionaire dick."
"Well, actually Murderface—" Charles began to correct before being interrupted yet again.
"Don't we like, have a person for this kind of junk?" Nathan asked.
"Excuse me?" Charles asked, politely although the sentiment was wasted on this group.
"You know," Pickles provided, "Like a PR agent or something?" Pickles is arguably the most intelligent one among the band…that is when he is mostly sober…well, as sober as Pickles gets.
"There was," Charles began, "but unfortunately he was forced to quit for-er-'personal reasons'." These 'personal reasons' happened to be death.
"Then get a new one that isn't a lazy son-of-a-bitch," Nathan resolved. "Meeting over."
"You don't understand. We don't have time to find a new PR agent for the press conference tomorrow. Guys, come back. The meeting isn't over yet." But it was too late. Dethklok had already shuffled out of the board room leaving their manager Charles Offensen to figure out what to do next to once again pick up the band's loose ends.
Outside Mordhouse a fierce gale swept in suddenly. The band members had all settled within their expansive living room after the meeting to flip through TV channels and enjoy their in home hot tub. Pickles worked the remote foot pedals as Nathan and Murderface lounged in the hot tub.
"Whats are you doings at the windows, Tokis?" Skwisgaar asked sitting at the end of the couch fingering his electric guitar.
"I bet he's trying to be all deep and poetic and junk," scoffed Murderface. "He's always trying to show everybody else up." This accusation holds no weight except for Murderface's own insecurities.
"Quiets," Toki shushed. "Yous guys don'ts hears that?"
"Nope," Pickles shrugged nonchalantly not even attempting to lower the volume of the massive television, followed by a chorus of no's by the rest of the band members.
"I thinks there's a kittys outs theres."
"So?" Murderface asked, not really caring.
"Whats do yous means 'so'?" Toki demanded indignantly. "A poor kittys is out theres in the colds and someones has to helps it!" And by "someone", Toki meant himself. No one else bothered to move as Toki stormed out of the living room and through the large looming doors of Morthouse to the acres of land before him.
"Heres, Kittys, Kittys!" Toki called into the wind. He was completely unaware of the golden eyes that watched his every movement. The flick of a tongue licking full plum stained lips.
After a few minutes of searching, Toki finally stopped, wondering if he had actually imagined the mewing sound carried on the wind earlier. That is when he felt the loft pressure against his boot. Looking down, Toki found a pair of large golden eyes staring back up at him as a lithe black body pressed and rubbed against his boot affectionately. "Wow-ee!" He had been right after all. There was a cat out here. She was larger than the average cat, but a beautiful one none the less. Her short black hair gleamed in the light of the setting sun and her long tail curled completely around his leg. Toki could feel her purring and instantly knew he was in love. He gathered the cat into his arms, inwardly remarking that she was lighter than he thought she would be. Cradling the purring beauty in his arms, Toki dashed to his room, barricading himself inside for the remainder of the day.
"I don't see why we have to do this," Murderface groaned while rolling his eyes.
"Because," Nathan provided, "Toki didn't show up to dinner so his stupid feelings are probably hurt or something."
The entire band of Dethklok stood outside Toki's room, preparing themselves to knock and check on their fellow band member and friend.
"So, we're not his mother," Pickles answered.
"Yeas," Skwisgaar agreed, "We aren'ts his mothers."
"Well, Toki is our friend or whatever and…" Nathan trailed off, "You're right, …this is stupid."
"We might as well get this over with," Murderface said with a deep breath kicking Toki's door. It wasn't that he didn't want to check on his friend. He just didn't want to be bothered (not that he was doing anything really) and now that he was interrupted from practicing playing his base guitar with his dong, he felt he might as well interrupt whatever Toki was doing too.
The band could hear scrambling coming from inside, "Ah, ones minuets." Finally Toki unlocked his door and peeked his head out. "What dos yous guys wants?"
The band members outside the door were quiet for a moment until Skwisgaar spoke up, "Whats your deals? Why dids you miss dinners? You're not in here cryings like a babys because your feelings are hurts, are yous?" Simple and to the point. That was the reason they came to see Toki after all.
Before Toki could answer, a loud mewing came from inside his room.
"What the fuck was that?" Pickles asked. Of course this was a rhetorical question. He knew exactly what that sound was, especially considering who he was talking to.
"Nothings," Toki answered too quickly. The mewing came again, this time closer. Above Toki's head, on the shelf he keeps his figurines, a small black, furry face was peeking out the door with him. For a moment, all the band members could do was stare. The cat gracefully leapt from the high shelf into Toki's arms. He held the large cat to his muscular chest and plead, "Please, oh please, lets me keeps her."
Murderface snickered, "Yea, Nathan. That is a nice pussy, after all. " At that, the black cat extended her claws and swiped at Murderface. "Agh, fuck it, that pussy can go to hell."
"Get rid of the flea bag. It's just going to dies in a couple of days and Toki will be boo-hoo crying," all over the place, Pickles insisted, noticing the cat's sudden glare and furrowed brow. That's strange.
Toki only held the cat closer to his chest. She squirmed a bit uncomfortably. "But it's darks outsides! At least lets her sleeps heres tonights!"
Nather turned away, "Fine, until tomorrow." This really was stupid. Why did he think to come to check on Toki? Maybe sex with whores would help him think and clear his mind. Whores always helped him think.
After the remainder of the band members dispersed, Toki closed his door dejectedly. "I'm sorry Kittys," Toki whispered as he stroked her neck with his thumb gently. He moved to his bed and placed her gently on the pillow so he could prepare for bed. He was completely unaware of the large golden eyes that drank in his entire form, lusting at his muscular chest and arms.
"I don'ts wants tonights to ends, so we'll stays up all nights," Toki decided once he finished and sat on the edge of the bed. He stared down into the golden eyes and thought he saw a flash of light. Suddenly, he was unable to turn away from those glowing orbs. "Kittys…" Toki began. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy with the sudden need for sleep. He closed them slowly. Once, then twice.
Upon opening them the second time, Toki found himself staring not at his beautiful Kitty, but a young woman. He was too drowsy to be startled by the sudden appearance. He faintly noticed her plum stained lips, soft and full. They were moving. His eyes followed her hand which entered his peripheral. Her nails were long, black, and sharp. They brushed back her neatly bobbed jet black hair. For a moment, he wondered which were more black, her nails or her hair. Another movement in his peripheral caused his eyes to dart down. She was uncrossing her legs to stand. Those lean legs seemed endless as he slowly followed them to their base, the bottom half of a lacy black panty set. Toki could feel his face fill with blood as a heavy blush fell over his cheeks. It's not that he has never seen a woman in a state of undress before. There was just that he knew he loved her. He could feel himself being guided to his back and the blankets of his bed pulled from beneath his heavy form to cover him in warmth. He wanted to reach for her, but his limbs were all too heavy. All Toki could do was stare into those same golden eyes, framed in a perfect cinnamon face. Then, his eyes closed for good.
She stared down at his prone, slumbering form. A sinister grin pulled at the corner of her perfectly painted lips. Today had truly been a test of her patience, being so close to his perfect body all day and yet unable to touch him the way a queen in supposed to touch her king. She could have him now if she wanted. Just a little pleasure. A little carnal delight. She didn't need him conscious, per say, not for just a little taste. As she glanced around the room, she sighed. Her king has changed. Her beloved's idea of entertainment should not be plastic toy models…he should be able to once again arrange and rearrange the bleached bones of his victims and prey. She spied the devil tailed teddy bear wedged between the wall and the bed. Another smile. At least some things never change. This sewn sack of cotton, however, would never compare to the real thing. As she placed the bear beneath the blanket next to her king, she wondered how to resurrect her king's favorite pet…well, favorite second to her. First, however, she had to take care of some business.
This one stood atop a mountain as thunder and lightning crashed about him, the godly percussion to accompany the artful fingering of his guitar strings. She approached the blond from behind, wrapping her arms around his shirtless torso. He remained focused, paying her no attention, just like the overly busty blondes wrapped around his legs, affectionately nudging his leg, pleading for attention as they finger themselves to the rhythm of his guitar strings. Then, horror, he hit a wrong cord. He could feel his fingers slowing, becoming tangled within the metal cords as they slithered around his hands, cutting into them until he cried out in pain. The cords continued to constrict, spilling his talented blood, cutting through muscle and veins until bone was exposed. Would they completely amputate his glorious digits? A soft mewing came to his ears. Looking down, where there once cooed busty blondes, writhing in desire, now hissed fanged harpies, clawing at his legs. Within the growing pool of blood sat that damned cat Toki had found, lapping up the acidic red sanguine like cream. The soft body he was barely aware of before, pressed against his back, began to constrict her hands until her tails dug into his skin, adding more blood to the lake he now seemed to wade within. Turning his head slowly, Skwisgaar came face to face with glowing gold eyes.
The second certainly was not as much fun. A simple dream for a simple mind, she supposed. He stood center stage as a stadium of bikini clad models cheered for him. Immediately, he dropped his pants, the crowd's roar growing louder in amazement and reverence for his glorious length. As they jumped up and down in excitement, their breasts bounced free from their tops, and so aroused, orgies began to spring up within the mob of sexually charged beauties. She stood among them, and when she had finally had enough, with a snap of her finger, dispersed them all. The crazed fans evaporated in a plume of black smoke, leaving Murderface in complete silence. He stared about him, until finally settling on a pair of gold eyes set within a fuzzy black face.
'Toki's damn cat,' he thought to himself. Before he could open his mouth to curse the feline, he noticed an identical pair of golden eyes perfectly set within a cold brown face. The cat sat upon this beauty's lap, looking as bored and unimpressed as the mysterious woman. As her glaring eyes gazed him with contempt, waiting for his performance, Murderface knew that there was nothing he could possibly do to come close to impressing the frosty duo. His shining moment was over.
Most challenging so far, she could not think of how to intimidate the blitzed drummer. His dream was a haze, clouded by drugs and alcohol. There was nothing here, except for a dim spark within the blackness attempting to be ignited. And so she did. This one didn't need intimidation. He was his own worst enemy. Instead, she approached this flame, and curled around it, giving her own warmth to keep the spark alight. She could feel the agitation, the unease within him from being shown this sort of care. She wondered, doesn't this mortal have a family?
The last to be visited was the lead singer. She didn't quite know what to make of the juxtaposition within this mind. Gentle pastel colors bled into stark blacks and crimsons. Was this really the mind of the brutal lead singer of Dethklok? A conflict between normalcy and exposing the brutality of life? She sat in wait, shadowed by the tall grass, as she stared at the lead singer's broad back, the muscles easily rippling through his thin black t-shirt.
She backed away slowly. He was in deep contemplation. She would be back, though. She definitely sensed something here.
Toki's eyes shot open. "Wow-ee," he sighs to himself on an exhale. Aware of a slight weight beside him, Toki turns his head to see the large black cat resting peacefully on the pillow beside his head. He stares at the cat for a while, wondering. A Dream? When he closes his eyes, he doesn't notice her golden eyes glowing in the dark, gazing into his gentle, slumbering face.
Charles enters his office the next morning mentally preparing for the day ahead. In the forefront of his mind, the press conference to introduce the new coming Dethklok album. After that, he needs a PR agent which means sifting through a drawer of applications, a week's worth of work in itself. With Dethklok's popularity, and the band leading as the 7th most productive economy in the world, there was no shortage of applications in every field. Going directly to his chair, and sitting down, Charles steeple his fingers on top of his desk and stared at the single leather chair before him.
"Hmm," he considered. A cat. He had to admit he wasn't prepared for this. He stared into her eyes for a moment before catching the flash. "I am very busy and have no time for games."
The cat licked her paw nonchalantly and wiped her ear before transforming before Charles' eyes into an alluring young woman dressed in a black micro-miniskirt and fashionable blazer, running her fingers through her perfectly bobbed hair. "How very insightful of you," she commented
The young woman leaned forward so that the top of her breasts were easy access to Charles' eyes.
He glanced down with silent admiration, but kept his thoughts focused, returning his gaze to her eyes. He could feel a haziness seeping into his mind. An intrusion. Turning away he warned in a firm voice, "I already told you I have no time for games."
He didn't see her smile, nor catch the purr in her voice. She was quite impressed. "I am here to help you, Charles Offensen. I am quite," a grin pulled at the corner of her mouth, "talented."
He turned again to look at her. "Who are you?"
"That's not important. But he calls me, Kitty"
He stared at her for a long time before responding. Finally, he outstretched his hand, "Well then, Miss Kitty, welcome to Dethklok."
Toki arrived to breakfast late. He spent the morning looking for Kitty, under, behind, and within everything in his room without success. He was going to order her a special breakfast before having to let her go—two types of cream and four types of fish: baked salmon, grilled halibut, broiled tuna, and red Swedish. In his gloomy mood, he missed the hollow expressions of his band mates, each one lost in the memory of his own dream from the night before.
No one was really eating this morning, so no one was too upset by Charles' sudden appearance and clearing his throat to gather their attention, "Everyone, I have one quick announcement. I would like to introduce you to your new PR agent, Miss Kitty."
No one spoke, deathly stunned, terror stricken, that is, except for Toki, who could only smile as he heart soared at the vision before him.
AN: I hope you enjoyed. There will be more, as long as I am bored -_-