This fic has much to answer for, starting with the fact that I'm not Tommy Blacha or Brendon Small, and only two of Skwisgaar's random women are actually mine. So to speak. Any details about Satanic religion I may have jacked up or misrepresented were unintentional. The bed in the cell is real, but it's actually located in the basement level of the 'Power Exchange'. Anything else you may find offensive in this fic is now your problem.
Ultimatum
(a.k.a. 'Dethvirgin Sacrifice')
"You are plays like dildos, Toki. Trys again like- -HERE-" Skwisgaar reached over and mashed the fingers of Toki's left hand onto the appropriate strings. It didn't take much, since they'd already *been* there.
Toki made an exasperated squeak of protest but let him do it, glaring sullenly.
"Its goes like THIS," Skwisgaar snapped, playing the riff with sickening ease.
Toki shut his eyes or a second, opened them, and shredded the riff back to him.
Pickles and Murderface looked pleased.
Skwisgaar heard a one-eighth beat pause before the fourth note, and sighed disgustedly.
"If you're nots goings to *listen*-" he began.
Toki played it over, just to shut the other guitarist up. There was less of a pause this time, but-
"Is closer, but you-"
"HOW MANY LICKS IT TAKES, AH? You NEVER goings to likes it! NEVER!" Toki yelled, taking his guitar and storming out of the studio.
"Crying babies," Skwisgaar muttered, picking out the tune softly just to prove he could.
"How many licksh?" Murderface echoed, deadpan.
Skwisgaar rolled his eyes.
Pickles grinned wolfishly.
"That's it," Nathan decided, "-we have GOT to get Toki laid."
(Cue wicked metal intro and band credits.)
The dungeon door opened. A lovely, curvy blonde woman wearing only a short plaid skirt tiptoed out, and shut the door softly.
"Sho? How did it GO?" Murderface demanded.
"Yeah, did he like, do you?" Pickles asked, addressing her mesmerizing boobs.
"You guys didn't tell me Toki was so *sweet*..." Susan smiled affectionately.
Nathan's face fell.
"That's uh- -that's a no, isn't it?"
"Not ALL the way my lord... I mean we kissed and stuff, but he kept asking all these silly questions, and then I ended up teaching him this patty-cake thing I learned in middle school, and then he fell asleep with his head on my boob," Susan pressed a hand to the spot in question, "-and his little mustache *tickles*..."
The non-virginal members of Dethklok exchanged glances.
"Well... you did your best. You don't need to be punished," Nathan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb.
"I am so sorry zis didn't work out," Skwisgaar agreed, putting an arm around Susan's shoulders, "-I makes it up to you in ANY ways I can."
"That figuhes," Murderface scowled, folding his arms.
"Hey! Hang on a sec, dood. There's something I gotta do," Pickles interrupted.
Skwisgaar looked over at the drummer with mild annoyance.
Pickles dropped to his knees in front of Susan, cupped one shapely breast in each hand, and nuzzled his face between them happily. Susan started laughing.
"Thanks, Suzie. I needed that," Pickles smiled up at her.
"Of course, my lord," Susan grinned down at him.
Skwisgaar's eyes narrowed to slivers of blue ice.
"Hey, um..." Susan began.
"What?" Pickles blinked.
"Aren't you gonna let Toki out of that cell now?"
Nathan looked at Pickles, who shrugged. Murderface gave a thumbs-down gesture.
"Und hears his whining tomorrows?" Skwisgaar pointed out. "-Leaves door unlocked. He finds way out sooner or laters."
Pickles locked the door open with a large iron key that Nathan handed him, and Skwisgaar took that opportunity to vanish with Susan.
Pickles looked up smiling, and his expression froze.
"Son of a f(guitar riff) (guitar riff)!!!"
Toki woke up alone in a stone-walled cell, and put his hands behind his head. The bed's black rubber sheets squeaked.
Early afternoon sunlight cast a warm finger of brightness into the room, glowing off the narrow gray windowsill, and sinking into the depths of the black bear furs that covered him to mid-chest.
The shadow of a bird flickered across the window, probably one of a numerous family of barn-swallows that nested under the overlapping beams of Mordhaus's mighty prow.
Toki whistled something and waited.
A moment later, the tiny bird alighted on the rough-stoned window frame at an improbable angle, and cocked it's head at him.
It looked like the sailor-tattoo design on the faceplate of a guitar he'd seen.
"Good mornings, tattoos-birdie," Toki smiled.
The bird crapped minutely on the windowsill, and eyed him.
"Chirp."
So, Susan had failed.
In the silence of his room, Skwisgaar's fingers slid expertly along the strings, just *feeling* the song, not playing it. Skwisgaar liked Susan well enough, in an abstract sort of way. She was pretty, good in front of a camera, and intelligent enough to keep her mouth shut when it really mattered. She knew the rules of his stable, she was fun to be with, and she didn't mind being given to other members of the band.
Maybe that was the problem.
Skwisgaar was no longer sure if he was sharing his toy with his band-mates or the other way around, and it disturbed him. He pressed just a little harder, drawing out distinct notes and chords.
When this mess with Toki was all over, maybe he should just give Susan to Pickles and be done it. Skwisgaar hadn't earned his playboy reputation by being a pushover, but neither had he earned it by wasting time chasing after the unwilling.
A new pattern emerged from the music beneath his hands, high and clear with a forked steel tongue, soaring above the thoughtful mid-range background.
If a riff wasn't working, he tried another until he found one that did.
Skwisgaar glanced behind him at the lovely curve of Susan's hip where the blanket had slipped down. He reached over and traced the milky curve with one fingertip. She stirred and half turned onto her back, but didn't wake. The new position spilled Susan's soft, wavy hair partway off the edge of the bed, and showed the firm swell of one of her breasts.
Skwisgaar leaned down and pressed his cheek against it, inhaling deeply.
He needed a shave, and the texture woke her. Susan looked up at him with the light brown eyes of a sleepy lioness.
"You wants Pickles, ja?" Skwisgaar stated.
Susan looked wary for a split-second, then smiled and shrugged ruefully.
"You can haves him," Skwisgaar told her, "-but not Tokis."
Susan blinked. Skwisgaar was dead serious.
"I thought you guys were *trying* to get Toki laid."
"Is true but... nots you, understand?"
"Ja- -dammit, you got ME doing it again!" Susan laughed.
Skwisgaar took Susan's nipple in his mouth without a word, and found to his satisfaction that 'ja' wasn't the only word he'd taught her.
"Murderface, why for you beings so nice to me?" Toki asked.
"Don't worry, I'm jusht messhing with yer head," the bassist assured him, "-nobody's nicsh to ME, I wouldn't know nicsh if it bit me on my hairy ass!"
"Ah-hah..." Toki nodded, uneasily.
"-But sherioushly, it wash jus' me an'- -an' her at this truck shtop, and she saysh 'hey there boyah do you like ta piss?..."
"You're a f(guitar riff) douche bag, d'you know that? You're a serious f(guitar riff) prize," Pickles growled at Murderface.
"All I did was tell 'im how I losht my v-"
"GAH! Just no, man. Just like, stop right there, okay?" Pickles held up both hands.
Between them Toki stood unmoving, his face frozen in wide-eyed shell-shock.
"It'sh a fond memory for me! I wash only tryin' ta do you touchy-feely d(guitar riff) a favor! You din't have to go all DEFENSHIVE-!"
"Dood. Shaddap and help me get 'im unfroze, okey?"
"Fine. WHATEVER. Shee if *I* ever try ta-"
When they played the Seattle stadium two days later, Nathan watched Toki walk into the men's room, catch sight of Murderface at the urinals, and choose a stall instead.
Nathan frowned thoughtfully, but didn't ask.
There was only one candle, and it was coming nearer.
Toki watched the yellow glow spilling through his bedroom doorway, illuminating the smooth but unfinished wooden walls.
Toki's father came in more silently than any living man had the right to move, holding the candlestick high up in the darkened room and looking down at Toki piercingly. In his other hand he held a dark-stained wooden cross. Behind the Reverend Wartooth stood Anya, and Toki's mother carried a well-worn bible in both her thin hands, pressed against her chest tightly. There was a coldly accusing light in her eyes as she gazed down at her small son, and Toki shrank down towards the headboard, sickeningly guilty, though for *what* he was desperately trying to remember...
Father was easier to read... anger, maybe?
Silently they knelt beside Toki's bed and began to pray, first one then the other.
"Our lord who art in heaven, forgive this sinful child and cast from him the demon his sin invited, Make him clean and pure in your eyes once more, o lord, hear our prayers, and by your grace deliver-"
Toki was silent by now, still as a graven image because he knew from experience that protests of his innocence- -or indeed any words at all, would get him held down by two pairs of iron-strong hands. Screaming and crying, pleading for them to come back to him and stop talking about a boy he hoped who didn't exist would be the 'voice of the demon' tormented by the word of God.
Toki kept his pale blue eyes open for exactly the same reasons, but behind them he saw storms, and heard the rolling of thunder.
"Our lord, who art in heaven-"
Toki poked his head into Pickles's room.
"Pickle?" he called, "-I hads bad dream, can I- um-"
Toki broke off, catching sight of Pickles passed out on the floor. There was a scorched chemical smell in the room, like something had been recently burned. Toki walked over to the drummer, and nudged him with his foot. Pickles rolled with the nudge bonelessly and snorted for a moment, but didn't wake up. Toki wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, feeling very much alone. He dragged a worn blanket off of Pickles's bed and covered him with it, then left.
Toki raised his hand to knock on Nathan's door, and stopped when he heard a low cry from within.
Then a deep-voiced chuckle, and indistinct words.
The cry came again, louder.
One of the voices was clearly Nathan's. The other was familiar, but Toki couldn't place it. Frowning, he left.
"Tokis, why you dildoes comes in here?" Skwisgaar growled.
"I- -hads bad dream. Can I sleeps with you?"
Skwisgaar looked back at the well-fucked Amazon lounging in the bed behind him. She shrugged, and held her black finger-nailed hand out to Toki.
Toki looked at his band-mate beseechingly.
"Ja, whatsever..." Skwisgaar sighed, "-nots talks too much."
The woman in Skwisgaar's bed had an unremarkable face, and slit-pupiled yellow eyes that Toki figured were probably contacts, but he wasn't too sure. She also had exotically pointed ears, one of which peeked through the heavy sweep of her dark hair like a pale thorn.
Toki touched it curiously before he realized his hand was moving.
She looked at back at Toki, amused.
"...Are you elfs lady?" he asked, wonderingly.
"No, I had them done like that," the woman explained. She had a slight German accent, but her English was better than his or Skwisgaar's.
"For why?"
"It's part of my religion," she explained.
"Oh, okays. What's your names? I's Toki."
"Gertrude," she said.
Toki was still standing, fascinated by her clipped ears.
Skwisgaar reached over one long arm and flicked the side of Toki's knee pointedly.
Toki yipped in surprise, and climbed into bed with them.
Skwisgaar awoke to someone biting the base of his thumb.
Not hard, but enough to pinch. He hissed, and fisted his hand in Gertrude's hair. The biting stopped, and he could feel her smile against his wrist.
"Up for breakfast?" Gertrude asked.
"MMmmm..." Skwisgaar ran his tongue along the back of her neck, pushing her hair up out of the way one-handed. He moved lower, tasting the black and red lines of a tattoo on her back disturbing enough to grace a Dethklok album cover.
He became aware of someone purring and mumbling sleepily.
"Whats are you doing to Tokis?" Skwisgaar whispered, tracing the back of Gertrude's ear with his nose.
"Nothing he doesn't want me to..." Gertrude murmured back, "-why, did you want him first?"
Skwisgaar paused, nibbling on the tip of her ear thoughtfully.
If he said yes that was one can of worms, but if he said no Toki was going to get his bones jumped by a Satanic priestess at eleven fifteen in the morning.
Hmm.
"Is jumpy, my Tokis," Skwisgaar told her casually, then dropped his voice an octave and added, "-bes nice."
"Me?"
"Ja, YOU," Skwisgaar growled against her ear.
Gertrude giggled, a low, fluid sound that was almost something more.
Skwisgaar bit her earlobe, hard.
Gertrude raised one of his long-fingered hands to her lips, and kissed the back of his knuckles in silent promise.
Skwisgaar released her ear, and resumed his attentions to her tattoo.
"...E-elfs lady...?" Toki asked, in a small voice.
"Guten morgan, Toki."
"Whats is you doing?"
"Good morning kisses-" Gertrude told him.
"Whys dere?"
"-Why not?"
"Skwisgaar-?"
"Ja, WHAT?" Skwisgaar demanded, looking up over Gertrude's shoulder at him in annoyance.
"Whats is she doings?"
Gertrude had been working her way down Toki's hard-chiseled abs, and seemed to have paused patiently at the level of his navel when he started asking questions. Toki's cheeks were flushed, and a lighter reddish cast had spread well down his arms and chest.
"I think she kisses you all over," Skwisgaar told him, tactfully.
"What abouts my-?" Toki began, eyes widening.
"Lets her," Skwisgaar cut him off, "-its FUN."
"...Ja?"
"Trusts me?"
"No..." Toki admitted.
"Then shuts up and you finds out," Skwisgaar told him, dryly.
Toki swallowed, pinning the Swede's blue eyes with his own and pleading with him.
"...Fåntratt," Skwisgaar sighed finally, shaking his head.
"What's that means?"
"It means stop being dildoes."
"YOU stop being dildoes," Toki shot back, petulantly.
"Are you two serious?" Gertrude asked, looking from one to the other.
"Looks what-! -Tokis, you is HOPELESS with women!" Skwisgaar lamented.
"I AMS NOT!" Toki shouted back.
"Okay, you guys have thirty seconds to work this out, or I am getting dressed," Gertrude decided, standing up in the center of the bed between them like a female colossus of Rhodes.
"...She's not scareds of us," Toki observed, sitting up and folding his arms.
"She's not supposeds to be, Tokis," Skwisgaar sighed, running a hand through his rumpled blonde hair.
"...Huh," Toki scratched one side of his mustache.
"Twenty..." said Gertrude, evenly.
"Tokis, if you screws DIS one up..." Skwisgaar warned.
Toki glared back at him silently, and for a split-second the young guitarist's eyes seemed to reflect back almost red.
"Ten..." said Gertrude.
"-Come," Skwisgaar held out his hand. It wasn't exactly a question OR an order.
Toki put his hand in Skwisgaar's, still glaring. Skwisgaar gripped it for a moment, then opened Toki's fingers and placed the hand high on the back of Gertrude's thigh.
Gertrude reached down and stroked Skwisgaar's hair approvingly.
"Two," she whispered, and stopped counting.
"Again," Skwisgaar ordered, impatiently.
Toki's fingers flew across the strings of his guitar, producing something a lot closer to brutally perfect than most musicians could even dream of.
"Hmmn," Skwisgaar frowned, "-is nots right in dis thirds part."
"Nots right HOW?" Toki demanded.
Pickles sighed, jammed his sticks in his back jeans pocket, and folded his arms to wait this one out. Nathan exchanged an amused look with Murderface.
"...Stops trying to get ahead of me," Skwisgaar decided.
"Okey-dokey."
They played the riff over, and it *did* sound better.
"Almosts," Skwisgaar said, with a slight smirk.
"Almosts?" Toki echoed.
"Is nots big deal," Skwisgaar shrugged, "-you just needs practice."
Toki smiled at Skwisgaar sidelong, and cracked his knuckles.
(Cue credits)
"The f(guitar riff)'s with Toki an' hish *girlfriend*, man?" Murderface asked Pickles sourly.
"I dunno," Pickles said, taking a drink.
In the hallway behind them, Susan could be faintly seen screwing number 242.
(more credits)
"Are you talkings to pretty elfs lady?" Toki asked, bouncing at Skwisgaar's elbow.
"Ja. Goes *away*," Skwisgaar said, holding the Dethphone away from him.
"Gimmiiieee!"
(more credits)
Alone in his office, Offdensen ejected an unmarked videotape from the VCR beneath the monitor. He wrote something neatly on the label in black felt-tip pen, then placed it with twenty or so others in his wall safe.
(Safe door slams on camera, screen goes black, and the sound of a heavy-duty wheel lock being spun plays)
-End-