A/N: Please keep in mind that I have not written fan fiction in a very long time. I am a bad speller, though I try. Alas, my spell check doesn't work for some reason. I do not mind constructive criticism and please feel free to point out any grammar/spelling errors. All in all, this is just for fun. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters involving Metalocalypse.

Belonging to the Night

Lilith grimaced as she shoved the hair pin close to her scalp. No matter how many pins or how much hairspray she used, she could never seem to get her hair to behave. She exhaled slowly, then straightened her shoulders.

She shoved her feet into her comfortable, sensible low-heeled pumps and strung her purse over her shoulder. A yelp escaped her lips as she nearly topped over the table. She nimbly stepped away and scrambled towards the door.

On her way out, she glanced in the mirror and softly cursed. Several bright red curls had slipped out from the carefully placed pins, all of them sticking out at odd angles. There was no point in attempting to fix the mess now; she was sure the limo driver was already impatient with her as it was.

She smiled unsteadily at the doorman as he opened the door for her. He grinned and handed her a newspaper. Lilith muttered a confused thank you as she stepped outside. Well, no fucking wonder.

The wind was angry and cold, pelting her with freezing drops of rain. She jogged towards the limo, thanking every god she could think of that a Klokateer stood holding open the door of the car. She flashed him a grateful smile and slid inside. The door closed with barely a sound.

The redhead sighed and looked down to survey the damage on her cheap Sears business suit. It could have been worse, and would more than likely dry after a few minutes in the warmth of the car. Mordhaus was at least an hour away and in this weather, there would be no speeding down the roads. She attempted to smooth her hair and leaned back into the soft burgundy seat.

This was a hell of thing. Never in her wildest dreams would she have landed this position. Some deity had smiled upon her. She'd applied for a job at a temp agency, thinking she would get by as she normally did. She'd moved from job to job, working as a secretary or a personal assistant. She'd done it since finishing college, and it kept her bills paid and her life simple.

The call had come at about three in the afternoon, just as she was finishing up developing some film. She'd dried her hands and answered the unfamiliar number with a casual hello.

The voice on the other end had been calm and cool, asking for Lilith Roma. She'd smiled, her stomach jumping at the prospect of a new job. Unemployment checks were something she enjoyed saying goodbye to. She'd smiled and dropped onto the sofa, telling the voice that is was indeed Lilith Roma on the other end.

When the voice had told her who it was, she'd sat up straight and choked. Charles Offtenson; every person with acces to anything technological knew exactly who he was. He was the manager and lawyer of the most famous band in the whole world. He ran Dethklok.

She shivered, with a little fear and much anticipation. Lilith wasn't like most of the band's enormous following. Their music was rough and raw, but she enjoyed it. It was a good release for tension. It let the animal part of her creep out and enjoy the brutality.

And by some miracle, she'd been chosen for a full time position as his personal assistant. Through a temp agency, no less. He said he'd chosen her for her willingness to travel, excellent references and ability to be ... discreet with her employers personal matters.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. There was no reason to tell the business of others. Secrets were a natural part of her life; always had been.

Lilith hadn't been sure of what the job entailed, and she'd queried the lawyer thoroughly. He'd chuckled a little and described it. She would file for him, do errands, fetch beverages as he needed it.

It sounded like a normal aid's job, with what might be 5 times the salary, living expenses included. She would even have her own private suite in Mordhaus. And a raise for every year she didn't die. That was a hell of a thing.

She pressed her head against the seat and laughed lightly. It was more than a dream come true. Her mouth turned into a determined line as she reached into her purse, drawing out a Rolling Stone magazine. The grim faces of Dethklock stared back at her. Nathan Explosion's green eyes glared back at her. Skwisgar looked elegant as always. Pickles -what a name- sneered up at her. Toki stared at her, his expression dower. She tapped his picture idly. He'd always been her favorite. Murderface grimaced up from the glossy cover. Lilith flicked through the pages, skimming through the six page article. Little was mentioned of Offtenson, other than the brief mention of his position.

She replaced the magazine and sighed, burrowing into the comfy seat and closing her eyes.

"Miss? We've arrived."

Lilith blinked awake from her nap, grasping for her purse. The Klokateer held a wide black umbrella beside the open limo door. She stepped under it, and stared up at Mordhaus. It was obnoxious, dark, imposing.

And now it was home.