Author's Note: Hey, so this story has literally been bouncing around in my brain for a little over a month now. I planned on letting it just stay that way, you know, bouncing around in my mind but the day after thanksgiving it took a pickaxe and tunneled its way out of my brain and skull. So here it is! Enjoy! Oh, also on re-reading the story I found that the timeline for when Terry was a baby listening to Dethklok doesn't really work, but I'm too lazy to change it.

2 years ago

"…and this is where we have our daily meetings which, contrary to what you might hear from the other band members, is actually required no matter how drunk, horribly mangled, or bored you may be."

"Mm-hm. Got it,"

"As I was saying before, we average about two hundred and fifty deaths per day here at Mordhaus most of which are the result of…uh…well, we don't need to go into that. Look, what I'm saying is at any moment you may see something that disturbs or even frightens you here at Mordhaus. The Klokateers –"

"Sorry, what are Klokateers, again?"

"The staff. They'll attend to all of your needs during your stay here."

The girl at his side hmmed pensively and wrote this new piece of information down on her upper arm with a felt pen. The other arm had already been covered from fingertip to collarbone in the greasy black ink and they had only just entered the front wing. She bit her lip and surveyed the newly smeared spot just below her armpit. Pretty soon she'd be covered in information about Dethklok, which, as she thought about it, really wasn't a bad thing.

"As I was saying, the Klokateers represent some of the most loyal fans of Dethklok. They would, given the chance, die for Dethklok. If you see any, uh…violations of human rights regarding these servants…" suddenly he stopped and turned towards her. His voice dropped to a menacing tone and, though he did not change his stiff posture, the eyes behind his glasses flashed in a very threatening way "you are not to report it."

She squeaked and leaned back. "I am not to report it," she confirmed.

"It was in your contract."

"It was in my contract…oh, sorry, what was in my contract?"

"A legally binding passage stating that if you hear, see, or even reflect on any human rights violation heard, seen, or experienced here at Mordhaus you are not to report it to anyone outside of my office."

"What if a stranger goes into your office? Can I report it to them?"

"No. Only me."

"But what if you're outside of your office? Who should I report it to then?"

"I…I'm the only one you can report it to," by now, any other human being would have been flustered beyond measure, but this was Charles [guitar riff] Ofdensen and he had had a lot of practice with the boys. Strange how his expression really doesn't change, the girl thought as she looked at her reflection in his abnormally spotless glasses, he doesn't really blink, either. She raised her finger timidly. "So…does that mean I report it to you during your office hours? Do you have those? You know…when you're in your office or during your out-of-office hours, because you really didn't specify in or out of office. And what if you're not in your office during office hou-"

"You know, how about you just…look the other way if you see anything unusual here, deal?"

"…deal."

"Hey, Charles! Who's your new lady friend?"

The voice of Nathan Explosion, so unmistakable in its awesome baritone-ness, echoed loudly throughout the gilded hall. The girl froze and looked up, her pen still quivering above her right arm. Five men were walking towards them in a horizontal line, eyeing her with boredom. Of course she knew who these men were. As a baby her mother had installed speakers in her cradle and had forced her to listen to songs from Dethklok albums for hours on ends (sometimes a whole day would go by with her just lying in her crib, sucking on her toes as Nathan Explosion screamed in her ear.) Growing up, her first words had been 'murder,' 'electrocution,' and 'bloodthirsty, homeopathic tendencies derived from a lust for killing helpless souls.' Still, she could not force herself to straighten up and smile (so shocked was she at actually seeing the band walk towards her all bad-ass like) and instead stood hunched over like a dummy.

"This is Terry Frostumansmiter –"

"Hey, guys look," Swisgaar guffawed, "Charles has got himself a news ladies friend. How hard do you think he's doing her?"

"Oh, yeah! A wholes lot!" Toki chimed in, possibly drunk. Possibly not. It was hard to tell.

"Yeah, he's totally doing her," that was Nathan, "Hey! Hey, Charles! Charles, how hard have you been doing her?"

"Looksh like the robotshs getting a little love, oh-ho-ho…" Murderface moved closer to the girl and rested his chin on her shoulder, "personally, I wouldn't mind getting in a little…lick or two."

"All right, all right, that's enough," Charles said right as Murderface's tongue touched her cheek, "I'm not doing…I'm not….I'm not doing…anything. This is your new –"

"Oh. You're not doing anything now," Nathan said slyly, jabbing a finger into Ofdensen's chest, "but what about at night when nobody's looking? And the next night? And the next night?"

"Yeah. Whats abouts the next night?"

"Yeah, the nexts night?"

"I wanna get in there the next night."

"What do you do then, Charles? Do you put your [guitar riff] in her [guitar riff] and [guitar riff guitar riff guitar riff]?"

Of course, any other man would have been shocked out of his mind, but this was Charles [guitar riff] Ofdensen, folks. He was still wearing the same expression that he had put on three years ago. The girl cleared her throat and stepped forward. She felt it was time she inserted her own voice into the very awkward matter. "Trust me, boys, Mr. Ofdensen is not screwing me-"

"Yet," whispered Murderface with crossed arms. The corner of her lip twitched.

"I'm your new electric violinist,"

The room went very quiet. All mouths fell open save Terry's and Charles's which stayed firmly shut.

"Oh, [guitar riff]" Nathan said.

[insert Detheme]

Author's Note: Huh…..I just realized that Pickles hasn't said anything. Next chapter Pickles, next chapters.