Hey, thanks to the two people who reviewed my first chapter. I know that it has been a while since I updated this story (and it's a short update), I apologize, I was in the middle of moving into my new dorm and getting settled, but now that it's over I hope to be able to write more often. Thanks again you two.

Chapter 2

The next day Charles Ofdensen sat at his desk as he slowly flipped through a file that the klokateers had put together on the Raith family. From what he had read the Raith's were both well-known held in very high-esteem wielding no small amount of clout in certain political circles. There w as also a bizarre connection to the porn industry.

Other than that there wasn't anything terribly balk-worthy. So far Ofdensen hadn't been able to think of a single factual reason not to at the very least inform the band of the invitation. Except for the disturbing aura the manager had felt from Thomas Raith; that cold, bestial feeling that the natural Adonis seemed to give off. The brunet didn't like it. Not one bit. This party felt like a trap… but was that enough to not bring it up to the rest of Dethklok?

They certainly wouldn't believe so.

With a heavy sigh Charles called a band meeting for the second time this week and stood to make his way to the conference room. It took nearly an hour for the others to filter into their usual seats. Nathan was, naturally, the first to vent his frustrations, "Why are we having two weekly meetings? We all agreed that we're only every supposed to have one!"

"I know that, Nathan," Charles said calmly, "but you all have been invited to a party and it's in a couple of—"

"Party?" Toki cried excitedly, "Whys you not says sos earlier? I says let's go!" Toki's exuberance was not shared by the rest of the band.

"Why the fuck should we go to some shit ass party?" Murderface shouted. His ire, however, was drowned out by a drunken cheer from Pickles.

"I second goin'. We 'aven't been anywhere in weeks!"

"Guys," Ofdensen tried to interrupt, "I haven't even told you where—"

"I agree. We're going to that party!" the note of finality in the singers voice made the manager sigh. So much for presenting them an alternative.

-Present-

Charles thought back on this moment as he moved among the obscenely rich men and women of the gathering. There were senators, congressmen, and a sprinkling of actors and actresses here and there. All of whom were trying to curry favor with one or more of the band. He mused idly that even if he had managed to get a word in edgewise they probably would have ignored whatever he said anyway; probably out of shear principle.

A middle-aged woman so bedecked in precious stones that Ofdensen was amazed she was able to balance in her six inch stiletto heels, shifted and granted the man a glimpse across the ballroom and of the one person Charles had been trying not to think about for the past week.

With a single-mindedness that he hadn't experienced since his years on the streets the small man crossed the ballroom in a matter of seconds and before he could stop himself he reached out and touched the specter's shoulder.

"John?"

AN: CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM requested. I have a thousand ideas or so for where this is going and will hopefully update sooner than last time, but any ideas you have are welcome.