"As you can see," said Senator Stampings ton, "Dethklok has met a two thousand-year-old demigod known as the guardian of Metal."
The Guardian of Metal's image was displayed on the large screen behind Senator Stampingston.
"His powers that we know of are command of lightning and fire, the ability to create portals, flight, a knack for weaponizing vehicles, great agility, mastery of hand-to-hand combat…and immortality."
"Hold on, said General Crozier,"You mean to say that this man can't be killed?"
"oh, he can be killed," Stampingston said, "He just doesn't stay dead. He rises like a phoenix."
"Good Lord…" Said the General.
"But there's hope. Our allies, the Demonslayers, have decided to make their move. They sent a corocotta to deal with Dethklok."
"And I presume they failed?"
"Yes, they did. The Guardian of Metal made sure of that. Knowing the Demonslayers, though, they will continue the assault until Dethklok has been neutralized."
"So? What do we do? Do we wet them continue?"
"Yes," rasped Selatcia, "We let them continue. The time has come."
Back at Mordhaus, the Guardian of Metal had just finished explaining the origins of the corocotta to Dethklok.
"Let me get this straight," said Pickles, "There's a pretty much ahll-powerful arm of holier-than-thou Christian crazies coming to kill us?"
"Yes."
"I'll believe it when I schee it," said Murderface, crossing his arms.
"Okay then, explain to me where that corocotta came from."
"He's got a point," rumbled Nathan.
Charles Offdensen shook his head in amazement.
"Wow. Just…wow. I mean, we've had attacks on our lives before, but never on this scale… ad never with such force…"
"It's what they do best," said the Guardian grimly, "They come to your world and go all out. They've taken over so many worlds they've now got millions and millions of young men ready to kill for their god. It's sad, really. They came to my world, too, y'know. We were lucky. We had enough power to get rid of them…"
"What does you means, 'my world'?" asked Toki.
"Are you a schpasche alien?"
The entire band looked at Murderface.
"Aliens?" snickered Pickles.
"Schut up I don't believe in aliensch!"
"So…wheres do you comes from, den?" asked Skwisgaar.
"I come from an alternate dimension classed Metal-Earthy. It's basically an entire world of metal."
"What's it like? Asked Nathan.
"Best *guitar*-ing place of all time. S'beautiful…giant sword-monoliths comin' out of the ground, jungle waterfalls shaped like skills, animals with big metal spikes comin' out of 'em, the Temple of Orunagoden, which is a big temple on top of a mountain of bones…and the Motor Forge. That's where I live. It's a system of magma caverns full of some of the most dangerous artifacts in my world."
"Hang on….did you say there's a temple on top of a MOUNTAIN OF BONES?" said Nathan.
"Yes, a temple to a flaming chrome beast called Ormagoden, who created metal."
"That could possibly be one of THE most brutal things. Ever."
The door opened and in came Jean-Pierre, Dethklok's undead chef. He held out a platter and bowed.
"Your corocotta filets, my lords," he said.
The Guardian grinned.
"Nothing says *guitar* you, Demonslayers like eating their death machine for dinner," he said.