Eileen. It was a nice enough name in itself, in fact it was the name of her old Irish Gran. But it wasn't her name, not really- it was a joke, a joke for children or child-like men. She tried to stifle the old one in the depths of her memory though it would bear its head from time to time. It was her duty to suppress it though it made its way through from time to time. Regan. Regan Burke.
Regan had a cushy job as a Klokateer, piloting Dethkopter 5 and managing its repairs. It was no easy feat to get work at Mordhaus, but not exactly a peach of job either, considering that a grizzly death was a constant possibility.
The Klokateers, though from varied backgrounds, had a great deal in common. Many of them, like Regan, were latchkey kids from poor families who craved order and a good paycheck. They were hard to phase and disciplined, but most of all strictly loyal to the entity that was Dethklok. Regan couldn't put her finger on what drew all of them so fiercely to the band. Their music had a hypnotic effect, compared to the most powerful drugs in the world, and even the euphoria of falling in love. It could be seen in the populous, with their violent desire to watch their idols and shed their blood for them.
She touched the stroked the gear brand on the back of her neck. It had a different effect on everyone's skin, and on hers it rose gently, and felt, even in its brutality and persisting heat, something like a flower.
The female Klokateers made up a fraction of the total- ten percent maximum. Ofdensen had said they were too distracting to the band. Then why did he choose the good-looking ones? Regan wasn't perfect- she had a square face and deep eye sockets that made her always look hungry, even though she was strong. But she had full lips, thick hair, and her figure was good, which was enough when she spent half of her day under a hood.
It was a nice feeling to work for the most powerful band in existence, even if at times Mordhaus was a bit of dictatorship, with some of the craziest bastards that ever lived at the helm. And Regan was clear headed and self assured- Ofdenson ruled out the weak ones, and quick. Though she often faced death, she didn't dwell on it. Until of course, that day.
It had been a chilly, gray afternoon, and calm. Dethklok had been out on one of their golfing excursions, if they could be called that when rumor had it they spend the whole time binge drinking and chasing each other with the clubs. A breeze had picked up and Explosion had complained about the cold, so dethcopter 5 was dispatched to pick up the band. Regan rarely had dealing with the band. Her duties were usually the mundane, picking booze, cheese snacks, and firecrackers from the nearby Finntrolls. But their regular pilot was off duty for repairs after the band had taken drunken glee in smashing everything in Dethkopter One. It should have been a warning to her, but she took on the task with some pride. She even, as she remembered wryly, had adjusted her hair, even though the hood would cover it.
The band was escorted inside and they behaved themselves, for the most part. But the soft breeze quickly turned to a windstorm, and the dethkopter had nearly toppled, damaging the main rotors. The band made it safely home, and Regan was forced in the high winds for repairs. It didn't phase her. She had been out dozens of times on similar jobs.
There was one unfortunate detail. It was a dethcopter after all and the blades were sharp as a razor's edge. She crawled gingerly to the top of the copter and surveyed the damage on the main rotor and the radar dome. They were both in bad repair. She called a team of klokateer mechanics to hold the huge blades still while she tweaked the wiring.
It was tedious work, made worse by a gentle rain that rendered the surface of the copter sleek and wet. At any other workplace she could have asked for a tent, or anything for shelter, but not here. She had to face it head-on, and she nodded to herself. The wind picked up and the muscles in the locaters' arms tensed as they held fast to the blade. The gale grew fiercer, and Regan's jaw dropped as several of them toppled over. The others shrieked as the blade burst free, taking the tips of their fingers with it.
The blades went rogue, spinning faster and faster around her. She gaped at the death machine below her and struggled to balance on the radar dome, but she never stood a chance. Her body tumbled from the slick surface. As she fell, a jolt like ice slithered up her body and she knew she was done for.