Title: Nine Months - Prologue.

Author: Lost Experiment
Rating: PG-13

Characters this Chapter: Skwisgaar, Toki, Nathan, Pickles, Murderface, Charles and OC's in very minor roles.

Warnings/Pairings: if you've not seen the first episode of Season 3 this makes BIG GLARING GIANT SPOILERS FOR THE BIG DRAMATIC CLIMAX OF THE PREMIERE EPISODE OF SEASON 3 Also it's an AU because we DON'T know the truth. Picks up right after Season 2. Guess how many chapters it is.

Chapter Summary: Picking up right after Season 2 ends and covering the period of time before Season 3 begins....we follow Offdensen.

Disclaimer: I don't own Metalocalypse. Nor am I making any profit off of this. Fanwork only and is the property of Small and Blacha

Prologue

It had all been very carefully planned: right to the smallest detail. The squadron of elite Klokateers: some muscle, some doctors who accompanied Charles to the surgery. Dethklok was fortunately too incredulous at being made to wait outside to protest. It might have been fortunate that the manager was passed out at the time, as the look on Nathan's face would have been more than enough on its own to prevent him from what he had intended to do to them all.

He had hoped, while he was still awake that nothing would go this far. Now that it had it was up to people who were not him.

"Sirs. We understand that Dethklok would prefer to use their own surgeons in matters of their employees health but we simply can not condone…"

The deep rumble of a particularly well-built Klokateer issued slightly muffled from behind his mask. "We are here to puruse the morgue. We require a body. You and your staff may work on the commander."

"The morgue?!" sputtered the doctor. To the man's credit, he was not in the least intimidated by the enormous man's size. "Sir, I'm as big a Dethklok fan as the next man but may I remind you that these deceased patients are people's loved ones and family! I simply can not allow you this kind of irreverence in my hospital to human life."

"There are, I presume bodies in this morgue that do not belong to patients with families?"

"Well yes…" the Doctor said. "A few John Does are stored here." His gaze narrowed with loathing and suspicion.

"Very good. We will compensate the standard $500 family burial fees, plus some extra for use of your facilities."

The doctor's face did a dance of eyebrows and a ghost wind of sighs and clucks escaped his lips. The fact of the matter was that some of these bodies that the Police stored in the Hospital's much more spacious facilities belonged to the fringes of society, human waste who had died alone and exposed to the elements. For these poor souls to have a funeral was more than they would ever have expected otherwise. "Very well. Follow me." It wasn't quite defeat.

The body wasn't quite perfect, but alongside the real Charles being stitched together, the Dethklok surgeons began reconstructing the corpse they'd retrieved to look like the manager. This wasn't the usual work they did: destroying the faces of those whom they had to silence so Dethklok's frequent media disasters wouldn't affect the band's reputation.

The unknown victim of the elements naturally had not had the luxuries of a training facility and three square meals a day, but once padded with imaginative tissue reconstructions and all scars masked by a clean suit, the resemblance was uncanny. On the other table, the real Offdensen sat up, long deep stitches slightly stretched as he grinned a mildly unnerving grin at the first sight upon awakening from blood loss, surgery and local anaesthetics being himself lying dead on the opposite side of the room.

"Commander?"

"How much longer until I'm fit to leave?"

The same doctor who had initially warred with the Klokateer glanced at his charts. "Three hours. I would recommend that at least you allow a Nurse to take you to wherever it is you intend to go in a wheelchair. I assume you're not going home."

Charles gave the beleaguered man a wan smile. "You've probably figured out that Dethklok is not great at obeying orders."

"Oh, I have." With that, the doctor spun on his heel and made a harassed exit that in any other circumstance would have made the former manager proud. He clung to the notion of deliberate refusal to follow orders – it was what his boys would have done.

Three hours later, Klokateer number 577701 arrived in the waiting room. Although usually no Klokateer would dare appear before his Lords without his hood, the meaning behind the gesture could not be plainer: it was the equivalent of removing one's hat in reverence for the dead.

"My Lords, we have done all we can…but Commander Offdensen is dead."

Nathan opened his mouth but no long scream came forth. 577701 suddenly found his arms occupied: the right with a vehement Toki intent on beating him, the other with a frizzy haired bassist whose knife was about to find his throat. Luckily, 577701 was stronger than both and he managed to hold Toki until he'd calmed into hurt sobs and even Murderface was embarrassed and moved off.

Pickles quite obviously took solace in drug abuse but Skwisgaar surprisingly held out his arm for the drummer to inject a needle into. Once both realized that morphine didn't exactly sooth hurt emotions, they both broke out the booze and it didn't take long for whatever they were imbibing to relax the contours of their faces and put a dim shade behind their eyes.

"The hospital will keep Mr. Offdensen's body here, my Lords." 577701 retrieved his hood and put it on.

"Oh no. No…way. Hesh coming home."

"Yeaaaah dood. Murdahface is right." Pickles slurred.

"Uh." Nathan hadn't seemed to have come to grips yet. "Yeah. Having…y'know…dead body. Brutal."

577701 frowned. This was not what they had planned for. "My Lords, the facilities here are clean and…"

"NO. No you…Fuck. Fuck you. He's uh. Coming. Home. Yeah."

The burly gear nodded and went to retrieve the body. Hopefully this would work.

Pickles and Skwisgaar were no trouble at all. Both had ingested a dangerous level of alcohol and drugs by that point and neither was in any position to judge an apple from an orange with any competency let alone a delicate plastic surgery job.

Toki turned away immediately at the sight of the dead body and Murderface lingered but if he'd felt something was amiss he didn't say anything.

Nathan however prowled around the casket like an animal. The group of Gears who were Charles' private guard stood unflinching. If any member of Dethklok was going to see through the plan, it would be Lord Nathan.

Finally, the big man sighed. "Close it."

Two gears rushed forward to close the casket.

"We burn it tomorrow."

In a small pub located many miles from Mordland but not yet outside the United States of America, was Clawson Michigan. The restaurant was a run-down family style place, packed to the gills with families out for an evening and people who wanted a drink or two without getting drunk.

The man at the end of the bar hailed the bartender/waitress: a big lady with a lot of curves, dyed rust-coloured hair and a bunch of tattoos in the shape of roses, celtic crosses, barbed wire and other cliché favourites. As it was, the newcomer 'Charlie' was a favourite customer. He tipped well, didn't bore her with maudlin talk and practically worshipped her pie-making ability.

"More apple pie?"

"Just a coffee." She gave him a look. "Alright. You got me. Coffee and more pie. More importantly, I was wondering if you could turn that up."

She followed his gaze to the small television in the corner which had previously been playing the local College football game but upon announcement of the score (the rival university had bested Michigan State so they didn't dwell too long on it.) the news had switched to the Dethklok minute."

"Heh, Dethklok fan hm?"

Charles gave her a nod. "You could say that."

"You and everyone else in the world." A slice of pie was set in front of him but his iced cream dissolved into a soupy mess without being touched as he watched his boys light the pyre of the man they thought was him. He listened to the uncharacteristically slurred speech of Skwisgaar as he stumbled through Viking prayer and his heart melted watching Nathan's pain.

"I'm sorry boys. I'll be home soon."

"Yeh say somethin' Charlie?"

Charles took a bite of pie. "Nah. Just that this is the best pie ever."

To Be Contined...