Thanks to AgentUrsa for requesting the Agents of Metal category and for mission-critical suggestions!

-ArmageddonClan

...

Chapter 1 - The Meeting

"Run, my test subject
Run through this hellish maze
I hold the key to your life and death
As the seconds tick away
The imperative of your survival
Compels you to complete!"

Ian thought his voice was raspy just in the right way. Or at least that was how it sounded from the monitor speakers; he could not be sure how it sounded through the PA to the audience.

Singing this way hurt his throat a bit, meaning he was not doing it exactly right, but he would manage to the end of the short set. The sound of his bass guitar was also distorted just right, thick but clear enough for fast-paced thrash. Every time his mouth touched the grille of the SM58, he received a tiny electric shock – nothing hazardous, but there was probably a slight difference in ground potential. It helped him focus. Or to imagine torture. Ian wasn't sure he could differentiate between the two.

The lyrics lifted just a bit from Agent Steel's Human Bullet, but were made more in reference to the hellish training he had to endure during his short re-integration to SCEPTRE. Probably no-one in the audience would catch the true meaning. Unless… there were actual SCEPTRE members present. In that case, it could go at least two ways. One: the song would actually help them break through their mental conditioning. Two: it would confirm their assigned target, and the kill order.

Right on cue of the verse's last word, Jo began her guitar solo over Erik's murderous thrash beat. The solo was a bit different each time; Ian thought there was a trace of old Deicide this time. Ian could not help smiling for just a moment. Still, probably no-one in the audience caught that, as he stepped away from the mic and began to headbang while playing the backing riff, hair obscuring most of his face.

To think they had reached this point was somewhat of a miracle. The three of them, playing an actual festival – the Stahlhölle - after all of their life-threatening adventures. The trio lineup was simply called AGENT. It seemed no-one else had the audacity to name themselves with just that one word, usually there was something tacked on.

The day had only started; justifiably they were on the smaller stage, and would only play for half an hour. Ian counted a crowd of about fifty. But even that was an achievement, so early in their "career." It could mean that people actually recognized that what they were doing came straight from the heart. On the flip side, the judgment for anything deemed false metal could be swift and vicious, but Ian had seen almost none of that on the internet so far – AGENT had a three-song demo out on Bandcamp.

Right after them, Ranger would begin dishing out their combat metal on the main stage. Ian knew them somewhat; they worshiped the eighties, the ridiculous echo in the vocals, the constant "circus" drum beat. And no bottom heads on the tom drums! Finally, the festival's first day would end with WyvernForce as the headliner.

Now the song changed to a half-tempo feel, and Ian could let his right wrist relax. It also allowed his thoughts to wander some more. Sometimes these mental journeys were not pleasant. If not outright recollections of the violence he had committed, or endured at the hands of SCEPTRE, then the paranoid feeling that at some unforeseen point in the future he would be unmasked, revealed as an impostor. He was not really a musician, or their band's front man. Only a dissociating killer. And one who had never even finished his training. A booming voice would announce his crimes as he stood naked before the crowd … it could even happen right now.

Submerged in these thoughts, Ian almost missed a chord change. Jo shot him an odd glance; she knew something was going on. Ian knew he had to focus. There was still half of the set list to go. If necessary, he would use his trademark mental phrase, though right now it tied somewhat unpleasantly back to the exact doubts he was having.

...

"Not enough Satan. Otherwise a good day," Erik remarked from behind his pint. "I'd want to share the stage with Arckanum or something. 218!"

To Ian, anything to do with Azerate or 218 rather tied back to how SCEPTRE had misused the anti-cosmic ideology. The three numbers reminded him of typing them frantically into a keypad lock while enemies were closing in. But for Erik, it apparently still reminded more of the actual bands, mostly Swedish, who had spearheaded the movement. Good for him.

In any case the day was over, and it had been excellent. Including WyvernForce's set. Their playing had been tight throughout, with little trace of "StudioWyvern." The new vocalist would not insult the audience as much as the original had done; that could be counted as a minus, or then not.

Now the three of them were back in the hotel's bar, the clock just past midnight. The gear was safely stashed away, and there were no more responsibilities, nothing to do but to enjoy the night. How drunk they would get, would only determine how many bands they would miss tomorrow. The flow of beer had been steady, but nothing excessive so far.

"Like it or not, most thrash is not conductive for Satan. At least combat thrash like us," Jo replied, also from behind her pint.

Ian knew Jo had a point. They had chosen the path of not having as much potential for KVLTishness, which would open some doors, and close others. The most KVLT bands would always prefer to play only among their own. But to try to fit into that scene while they did in fact not, would be a falsehood that would get quickly revealed. The rules of metal had to be observed.

Then Ian got an idea.

"You could have a side project. Blackened Satanic doom metal with Kim. Just drums and distorted bass."

Erik grunted indistinctly, possibly in approval. Sometimes it was impossible to know what he thought exactly, and also unwise to inquire further. The ultimate lineup would of course have been the four of them, since they all had apparently (Ian's memories were rather unclear) played a role in the latest incident.

But then, one just had to accept that everyone did not get along with everyone. Plus, Kim would have needed months of stringent practice to get up to speed for playing complex thrash metal at 200 BPM or more. No. It would not have been right to dictate a musical direction on her. She needed to go her own way, whatever that was.

Suddenly Ian was alerted by two figures entering the bar. He certainly recognized them. Holy shit. Lee and Stan, the guitarists of WyvernForce. Ian had not known they were staying at this exact same place.

The guitarists strode directly to the bar and ordered shots. By now Jo and Erik had already noticed them as well.

"Shall we go meet them?" Ian asked. Normally he did not exactly crave the company of people he had never met before – and especially those who would be much more famous than he could ever hope to be – but this was a rare burst of energy, similar to how he had decided to initially approach Jo and the late band leader René.

Jo was instantly in. "Hell yeah."

"Flower metal. Bah. You go," Erik grunted in a low voice, and stayed at the table. It didn't take long for Ian to close the distance to the bar, with Jo following close behind.

For just a second, Ian imagined the most ridiculous and boastful way they could use to introduce themselves. "Hey. We're Agents of Metal. We kill using all weapons both known and unknown, and saved your asses from the planet Nibiru using a weaponized Ford Ka, while you didn't even know. But nice to meet you." But no. Tonight they were just the bassist / vocalist and lead guitarist of AGENT.

While Ian began the process of ordering another beer, not yet sure of what to say, Jo made Pac-Man noises with her mouth, while mimicing the act of dragging a guitar's tremolo bar over muted strings. Thus solving the problem of introductions.

Lee turned. "Hey. Someone knows our tricks."

Jo smiled back at him.

"You play guitar?" Lee asked.

"We're from AGENT. Played early this day."

Stan's gaze lit up. "So it's you. Proper MK-ULTRA thrash. We listened to your demo in the bus. Good shit."

Ian thought it sounded unbelievable that these above-mortals would listen to something that lowly. Maybe it was just an extremely lucky coincidence, or they had been severely bored.

This was probably the turning point for the night to become extraordinary.