Charles Foster Ofdensen shuffled the legal documents on his lap noisily, his lips tightly pressed together. Four men looked at him slightly worried, none of them daring to talk. They were in one of the hotels owned by Crystal Mountain Records, or more accurately a dorm since the only people who were allowed in were employees.
The band manager finished putting his papers in order and placed them neatly inside his leather briefcase. He looked up to find the four remaining members of Dethklok looking apprehensive and realized that his face was scrunched in a tight scowl. With a deep breath, he relaxed his face to the neutral expression the boys were used to.
The effect was immediate, the air in the room became less tense. Skwisgaar began practicing with his unplugged guitar, moving his fingers nimbly up and down the neck. Murderface took out his Bowie knife and casually cleaned his fingernails with it, despite the fact that he was nicking his fingers in the process.
"So," Charles began and everybody looked at him. He believed this was the first time he held the entire band's attention for such a long time. Better make them listen. "As you are probably all figured out by now, Thomas Chainsaw will not be a part of Dethklok. In fact, Crystal Mountain Records may put a plug on his music career for good after he gets out of prison."
"Uh...so what exactly...did he do?" Nathan had been meaning to ask since before the band meeting began but the look on Charles' face could deter even the most brutal singer.
"Good thing that you asked, I want you all to hear this." Charles took off his glasses for emphasis and addressed the band, even though they had become irregular blobs around him. "Thomas was arrested for sexually assaulting a young woman."
"Seckshually what?" Skwisgaar had never thought there could be legal repercussions for doing sexually anything.
"Sexual assault, Skwisgaar. On the night of the eighth, a female fan came backstage to meet you guys. You may remember her. Tall and dark-skinned, she's a Latina. Argentinian I believe."
"Wasn't that the night of our New York show? We met weeth tons of groupies that night." Pickles shot a glance at Nathan for confirmation.
"Yes that was the night of the New York show. She came to the post-show party along with some other girls." Charles made a mental note to speak with the head of security. If the stupid bouncers Crystal Records hired kept letting people through in exchange of sexual favours, he would be better off hiring a separate unit of security for Dethklok. He could probably organize it better too.
"Anyway, not long after the post-show party started, Thomas told her to come to the band trailer for some drinks. Since everyone was at the party, the trailer was empty. While they were alone, he raped her."
He avoided using the word "allegedly". Thomas was officially not Crystal Records' liability as of this morning. He'd also seen the security camera footage from the trailer that night. There was nothing "alleged".
There was an uncomfortable pause before Skwisgaar broke it.
"What ams raped?"
"Rape means to have sex with someone who does not give consent." Charles answered. He had looked up every legal definition of it in case Thomas went to trial while still being a Dethklok employee. He was happy he'd dodged that bullet. He was happier Thomas didn't have a competent man like himself on the defense.
"Uh, isn't that what groupies are for?" Murderface stabbed his knife into the couch, exposing the stuffing. "I mean, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."
"No Murderface, groupies are not for raping. In fact there is no one that is for raping. Nobody deserves that." Charles' tone was even, perhaps even monotone but his glare froze Muderface on the spot.
"But didn't she want to have sex with him? I mean, anybody would think that she knew what she was getting into, following him into the empty trailer and all..." Nathan trailed off, shifting uncomfortably under the manager's intense glare that was now directed at him.
"In a way I'm glad this situation happened so I can talk seriously to you guys about this for a moment. Dethklok is on the brink of becoming huge. We could easily become the next most influential and prominent band of this country. But it all depends on the next few months and how you guys behave. A scandal could end this band's future before it's truly realized."
Pickles banged the table, alarmed. "Are you suggesting we give up the booze, the drugs and the girls?! Because I'm not giving up any-"
"Settle down, Pickles." Charles answered calmly. "Dethklok has an image. An image of things brutal and metal. Drugs and alcohol fit in with the band's theme perfectly. If one of you gets arrested for carrying drugs, it might even boost our band's image. So don't worry about that."
Pickles had half risen out of his seat but now sat down slowly.
"But there's if there is one scandal we cannot afford to have it would be a rape one. Our recent increase in popularity comes from the fact that the latest album appeals to both genders so well. We are possibly the first metal band to have as many female fans as male fans. This has done wonders for both our CD and merch sales. Us keeping this market may end up being crucial to our success as a band.
However, if Dethklok develops an image of being hostile to women, we will lose that market."
"Whats do you mean? Chicks loves the brutal stuff." Skwisgaar twiddled with his guitar as he spoke. "No matter what bands I ams in, they like it. They ams not that smart."
Charles put his glasses back on, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Skwisgaar, you're thinking of a very select group of women who likely follow you around for your looks. Your range of data is too small. You have to think big. You have to think globally."
He'd said similar words to Roy Cornickelson this morning with a much better reception. The tall Swede just stared at him with a bemused expression.
"Look, you guys want women to keep approaching you, right?" They all nodded. "Well, less women are going to approach you if the band has a reputation for being abusers. We're going to lose market and you guys will find less groupies willing to have sex with you.
I have a strategy: from now on all of you will stop approaching women. Now this doesn't mean you have to stay away from them." He continued quickly as Dethklok's jaws dropped and they began to protest. "This just means you have to let them approach you. That way there can be no confusion. Wait for her to approach you, wait for her to make it perfectly clear that she wants to have sex before doing anything."
"But that takes too long! And we'll get laid less!" Pickles complained.
"With the way the band is going and if the revised contract I gave Cornickelson gets approved, I don't think that will be a problem. Soon you guys will be surrounded by groupies who cannot take their panties off fast enough."
The band did not look too convinced.
"Look, all I ask is that you use your discretion when it comes to this. Regardless of the potential financial loss, rape is a terrible thing to do. There is a difference between brutal and complete scum.
I plan to make this band a success. I want Dethklok to be huge. I want there to be a day when Dethklok is so big that fans can be chopped to bits during a live show and not only do we not get in trouble, the fans love it."
"That's brutal." Nathan nodded in approval.
"However, that is not going to happen overnight. First we need to become big. First we need to win over the fans and make them love the band so much that they'd do anything for Dethklok."
"But fans are annoying," Pickles complained. "I mean...when they are not giving us blowjobs or making cinnamon buns they're just getting up on our asses to sign autographs and take pictures. We don't have time for that shit."
"I've been considering that and I have a solution: none of you are going to do any informal interviews or autograph sessions anymore. I want to keep the band's visibility high but the information about the members discreet. The more mysterious you guys are, the better. It's better that you don't talk about your personal lives at all with groupies."
"What ams informal autographs sessions?"
"To put it bluntly, that's when people approach you after shows asking if you'll give them an autograph if you have sex with them."
"You am sayings we no longer have sex for them?"
"I'm saying that from now on, all of you should make it clear that they're not getting anything special in return. Groupies who come backstage should all be made aware of this."
Saying it out loud made Charles come to the realization that he had to hire and organize a separate security team for Dethklok. A team to help turn the gears of the band smoothly, so to speak.
"In any case, it's better for the band and for you guys personally to distance ourselves from what Thomas did as much as possible. It's a good thing he only had a temporary contract and never was an official Dethklok member. This will make it easier to say he was never part of the group."
"I never liked Thomas anyway. He was kind of a douchebag." Nathan growled. The rest of the band nodded sagely with him and suddenly the matter was closed. It sometimes still surprised Charles how much influence Nathan had over their little band.
"Anyway, Crystal Records wants all the band to go to Norway and do several shows while they deal with the P.R. damage here. By the time we come back the stage should be set economically and public image wise to make a new album."
Pickles had taken out a pair of drumsticks and was absentmindedly tapping the table. Suddenly he turned to Charles.
"Wait, a few shows in Norway?"
"Yes, we leave tomorrow."
"But we don't have a rhythm guitarist."
Nathan joined in. "That's right, we don't have a second guitarist. How are we supposed to do the show with songs written with two guitars in mind!"
"Well guys, why don't you do what you did right after Magnus left?"
"You mean, make Skwisgaar record everything before the show and then have some random dildo pretend to play the guitar onstage during the concert?" Pickles asked.
"Oh nos! I ams tired of doings that! If you ams goings to makes me to the works of two people then I wants double the pay!" Skwisgaar even stopped practicing when he said this.
"Besides, everyone can tell when a dildo is pretending to play the guitar. Hiring a regular jack-off is not brutal at all. It would ruin our concert." Nathan admired talent in music more than fancy theatrics. "We're not a lip-synch band. All our live shows are live."
"Guys, I understand the sentiments, but it's you who are extremely picky about getting new band members. I will remind you that after Magnus left we auditioned over a thousand potential rhythm guitarists and Thomas was the only one you deemed worthy to call back. We're back to square one, I'm afraid."
The need for a fifth band member became painfully obvious during their Norway tour.
For the first few shows Crystal Records flew a talented guitarist from England that had just been signed. Andrew Ziminiar was good enough to keep up with Skwisgaar during live shows and even cover Murderface's mistakes.
Unfortunately Andrew didn't like it when Skwisgaar often pointed out that his skills were inferior and patronized him by giving him instructions. This conflict culminated when the two of them had a huge fight outside a club in Hamar and Andrew was pushed into canal. He contracted viral gastroenteritis and had to withdraw from the tour.
The next guitarist they got was Brent Yeter'el. Brent was not as talented, but he was more amiable than Andrew and a happier drunk. Unfortunately he got too excited during one of their live shows and stage-dived right into a young woman's metal studded bustier and tore his right eye completely off. His resulting infection was so bad he needed facial reconstruction surgery.
After that, none of the guitarists Crystal records sent were good enough for the band or if they were, they could not play metal. Skwisgaar didn't understand why so many wanted a music sheet. This was not grade school, who read things anymore?
For a while they tried having only Skwisgaar on the stage but even the world's fastest guitarist could not play and complement the rhythms at the same time.
They became so desperate that Pickles convinced Charles to let them hold auditions for amateur guitar players while they were still on tour instead of waiting for them to return to United States.
The amateur guitarists definitely had a better idea of what metal was about, but nearly none of them could actually play the guitar beyond strumming it with style.
Charles knew that they could take one of these amateurs and train him into a proper guitarist given enough time. The problem was that they did not have enough time. The band had not made a proper album since Magnus had been kicked out. Crystal Records was demanding to see some evidence that the band was making progress. The other metal band that the label had signed, Suptum of Satan, was floudering badly.
They had been forced to cancel the rest of their continental Europe tour when Austrian police found that the crucified skeleton on the stage was not a prop. The entire band was in custody until the identity of the corpse was ascertained. Charles suspected they had done some grave robbing rather than a murder, but they were in deep shit either way. And thanks to them, Crystal Records was becoming hesitant to invest more money on the metal genre.
On the last day of the Dethklok tour they were going to perform in a rather small venue in Stjørdal, only six hundred seats.
After they got the instruments set up, Nathan and Pickles immediately went to get pre-drunk in the trailer with their "secret stash" and Murderface left to check out the Vardø witch trials museum to see if they had any creepy torture instruments.
Skwisgaar considered joining Pickles and Nathan, but opted for practicing guitar instead to make sure his solo was beyond perfect. Since they could not find a supporting player, they had opted for making more complicated guitar work accompanied with drums.
His fingers moved swiftly, strumming the strings. Usually this made almost no noise but the stage was unusually quiet since there was no one there except for Skiwsgaar and some tech guys looking at the lighting. Skwisgaar could feel the Gibson vibrating...
Suddenly the amplifier he had been sitting on screeched at full volume. It resonated with the notes he had been playing and awful high pitched feedback from being too close to the microphone. "Vad fan?!"
Skwisgaar leapt up to see a guy next to the amp's control's clutching his ears. "Vad jävla fan är fel med dig!" He literally kicked him in the ass and turned off the amp.
The guy rubbed his butt and glared at Skwisgaar "Hvorfor du sparke meg, rasshøl?"
The Swede took the guitar off and crossed his arms.
"Do you speaks English? What are you doings, you dumb dildo?"
He looked at him up and down. He was young, maybe still even a teenager. He had brown shoulder-length hair tied on a low ponytail and the beginnings of a moustache growing in the sides of his mouth.
The young guy blinked at him, "I saws you and I thoughts that you probably plays well. I wanteds to hear it."
Skwisgaar sighed exasperatedly, another dumb fan. "Of course I ams good. Dont's you know who I ams?"
"No." He answered without a hint of sarcasm.
Skwisgaar was surprised. Dethklok was getting more famous each day and there was no one in the metal or rock circles that had not heard their name by now. Didn't this guy work in a punk rock venue?
"You knows...when I was in the videregående skole, hows you say, higher school, I was in the pop music club." He reached at Skwisgaar's Gibson, lightly touching the strings. The Swede was stunned for a moment before slapping his hand away and physically putting himself between this stranger and his precious guitar.
The young guy did not seem to register the slap. His face remained blank and he slowly withdrew his hand.
"That was the first time I plays an electrics guitar."
Skwisgaar scoffed. "I guess what you say next. You ams guitar prodigy and you want to be in our bands."
"Ackshually that was the last time I could hold a reals guitar. All the others students wanted wanted to plays ABBA cover songs. I punches the club presidents so hard he falls in drum set and goes to hosptials for stitches. I was on detentions for the rest of the semesters."
His blank expression did not change as he told this. Suddenly he turned to Skwisgaar with an expression of curiosity. "What does your bands play?"
"Uh, death metal."
"Wowee!" It was odd hearing a childish exclamation from someone who just admitted punching someone hard enough to send them to the hospital. "I loves metal! I listens to Skyforger, Spektr, Nachtfalke and Mütiilation!"
"How can you says you loves metal when you haves no heards of Dethklok? We are the biggest metal bands in the worlds!"
"I starteds listening to metal in schools but I hads no money so I could only gets borrowed CD's from other students. During detentions they take my CD's aways and I did not get them back. I still have not enough money after I graduates."
During this conversation, Skwisgaar had slung his guitar over his shoulder again and turned on the amp, though he lowered the volume. When the young man finished speaking, he began riffing their latest song.
He was doing it partly to practice, but also because he could never resist showing off, not even to a sad dildo with no money.
The guy stood there mesmerized, watching the Swede's fingers move impossibly fast and making the guitar sing for him.
He couldn't help himself. "Can you lets me play? Just once? Please?"
Skwisgaar stopped playing and looked at him directly in the eye. He noticed this guy's eyes were also blue like his own, but they were paler and somehow sadder.
He got up and looked around Dethklok's equipment. He found the spare guitar. He held it up by the neck. "You can touch my guitars only if you can keep up with me."
He smirked as he saw him scramble to plug in the guitar. He tried not to laugh as he held the guitar wrong before remembering how to grasp the neck. He'd crush this kid to dust.
He began playing in the guitar part of Dehumanizer by Black Sabbath the low D tune except much faster than the original.
The brown-haired teen just looked at him and for a moment Skwisgaar thought he would give up without trying. But then he began playing.
A bit slow at first, but then he began hitting each note nearly perfectly. The only difference was that he seemed to be playing the cover version in low C.
Skwisgaar frowned and played faster. The brunette also increased his speed, but he stayed consistently two beats behind Skwisgaar.
Deciding he could only keep up because he'd chosen a well-known riff, Skwisgaar switched to an original composition, not changing his speed at all.
The teen was thrown off for a moment, messing up his rhythm, but then he watched Skwisgaar's hands and began playing again. This time not only was he slower, but he was a few notes behind because he didn't know what song Skwisgaar was playing.
Was he lying when he said he'd only played once in his life? The Swede began to make the composition increasingly complicated. His pride was now at stake.
Neither man noticed when the rest of the band returned to stage nor when Charles called the manager of the concert hall.
"Who is that?"
"Han? He's a kid I just hired. I thought he woulds make a good dørvakt, what's the engelsk word for it, a bouncer because the first time he was here he beat the dritt out of a guy three times as big. But for some reason after that he turns into big pushover so I puts him with tech crew."
"Does he have any experience as a musician?"
"I doubts it. This is his first real job after highs school. He didn't even know what a resume was. I had to make him fills out an application."
"Can I see this application?"
The guy looked suspiciously at him. "Why?"
Charles matched his glare. "I can make it worth your while."
Fifteen minutes later the two were still playing, oblivious to the world and Charles was reading the application with a Norwegian-English pocket dictionary in hand. Only three things mattered to him. His name was Toki Wartooth. He was legally an adult at age 19. And his contract with the concert venue could be broken verbally without previous notice.
He turned to Nathan and Pickles who were watching the guitar battle with interest. Without warning, Skwisgaar kicked Toki's guitar amp, shutting it off and making Toki completely lose his tempo.
"Hey, why dids you do that?"
"This ams stupid and a waste of time, it's clear I ams gooder than you anyways."
"You jævla-!"
"If I may interject here," Charles interrupted before the two started fighting. "I think Toki here is talented enough to be a temporary member of Dethklok. What do you guys think?"
"He's brutal enough." Nathan said.
"Yeah he has the right stuff." Pickles was nodding. He was sick of auditioning star-struck kids or snobby professionals.
"Hold it! He has to answer one question so we know he's metal enough." Murderface got his face close to Toki's, close enough that Toki could smell the pork rinds the bass player had for a snack.
"How many dead cats would a person need to write "I hate your fucking guts" out in the parking lot?"
Toki put his index finger over his chin, thoughtful. "Seventy-three, but it depends on how longs the cats are and whether you needs to doubles up on curves."
Murderface nodded in approval. They all turned to Skwisgaar, who had a sour expression on his face.
"Well? Do you think he could be rhythm guitarist?" Charles' face was impassive, but inside he was begging the blonde's pride was not bigger than his need to rock.
Skwisgaar unplugged his guitar and angrily played with it in silence. He was also sick of seeing a parade of no-talent dildos try to match his guitar skills. And with a proper rhythm guitarist he would be able to focus on making his own pieces completely perfect. As long as this guy didn't turn out to be better than him...
"Onlys if he gets temporary contracts. He is on probations until we sees him at live concert. He no gets own instruments or creative voice in band until I's says otherwise. He's not allowed to have solos." He clutched his beloved Gibson. "He's also not allowed to haves the same model of guitars as me. Not ever."
Charles nodded, clapping inwardly. "Toki Wartooth, I offer you a job as temporary rhythm guitarist for Dethklok, copyright of Crystal Mountain Records. Do you accept?"
The manager of the concert venue protested. "You waits a minute! He ams my employee right now! You cannot just-"
He never finished saying that Charles could or could not do, because that moment one of the beams supporting the concert lights snapped and fell. Several metal cables snapped since the beam was no longer supporting the full weight of all the lights and cables. Nobody was ever able to ascertain what happened first: either the cable decapitated the manager or the beam impaled him to the ground.
Toki didn't return to Norway until the Duncan Hills coffee jingle.