Chapter 4, Part 1

Bad Justice

The following morning Pickles woke up by himself. He looked around, his hair a tangled mess, and saw that Toki's spot in the bed was empty. Frowning, he made his way downstairs, wondering where he could be. The Norwegian still didn't know his way around Mordhaus all that well, so it was probable that he got lost. He went into the kitchen and looked around, scratching his stomach thoughtfully.

"Hey, guys. Anyone seen Toki?" Pickles asked as he took his seat at the table. No sooner had the question left his mouth than Skwisgaar and Murderface began laughing.

Nathan just shook his head and grumbled, "Too fucking far, idiots."

"What?" Murderface said thru his laughter. "It wash fucking hilarioush!"

"Ja, you remembers the looks on hims face?" Skwisgaar said, doubling over in his seat, hugging his sides.

Pickles waited for their insane laughter to subside before asking with a forced calmness, "What the hell is so funny? Where's Toki?"

"He's-"

"No ways, Nathan!" the Swede snapped. "You saids that it was funny tos, so don'ts you dare tells him!"

"Yeah, jusht drag it out a while longer." Murderface added in.

"What the fuck are you guys talkin' about?" the drummer asked, stabbing at the plate of eggs that had been placed in front of him with his fork. "Did he eat already?"

"No," Nathan growled. "He didn't eat."

"Then what-"

"Skwisgaar." was all he said before taking a deep sip from his coffee and calling for a Klokateer. He passed the cup to the servant and instructed, "Put some booze in it, please. I'm about to need it."

Pickles' green eyes flashed in Skwisgaar's direction. "Where the hell is Toki?"

"I...I..." he burst out laughing again and managed to sputter, "He-He ams inside bathroom..."

"Okay, so what's so funny about 'dat?"

"He'sh crying!" Murderface exclaimed. "Shkwishgaar made him cry, I shwear to God!"

As Nathan took back his cup of half coffee-half booze, he shook his head and said in his low, harsh voice, "Too fucking far, stupid dildos."

Pickles threw down his fork and jumped out of his seat. He barley knew what Murderface was talking about, but he understood well enough to know where Toki was. Without hesitation he stormed out of the dining room and went to the bathroom. Before knocking on the door he took a deep, calming breath to regain his nerves. He knocked softly and asked, "Toki? Hey, are you in there?"

There was a moment of silence before the shaking, sorrowful voice of the guitarist responded, sounding muffled. "W-Who ams it?"

"It's Pickles. Please open up the damn door."

"I...I can'ts do that right nows. Suh-s...sorry..." and his voice broke and a loud sob could be heard from the other side of the door. Pickles sighed and backed away from the door, his hands shaking.

"Fuck. Gad damn it, what the hell do I do?"

He never had been good with these sorts of things. If Toki really was crying then he'd be at a loss for words, but what could he do? Just then the Norwegian called, "Just gos away, please. I want to bes alone right now."

That triggered something inside Pickles that he'd never felt before. Without shame he went and jiggled the knob on the door. "Toki, unlock this door or I swear to Gad I'll break it down."

"N-No. I don't wants to talks to you right now. Fucks off."

The words cut him, but didn't deter him. In a second Pickles was throwing his whole weight against the door, still trying in desperation to open it. It took a moment or two, but the lock clicked and the door swung open. Toki was sitting on the edge of the tub, his long hair in his face hiding the red of his cheeks and his crying eyes. The drummer went inside and softly closed the door again.

"P-Pickle..." was all he could say.

"I know. You hate us all, huh?"

He nodded and let his head fall into his hands. "I hates it here."

"No you don't. You just hate Skwisgaar and Murderface." Pickles leaned against the door and crossed his arms, trying to appear cool and collected. Seeing Toki like that, though, completely unnerved him. He felt that old weirdness creeping into him again, but tried to ignore it. Instead he said quietly, "I'm sorry about what they said to you..." and a thought came into his head. Curiously he asked, "What did they say to you, anyways?"

"They...Skwisgaar, he..." Toki shook his head and wiped his nose. "...d-don't wants to talk..."

" 'Dat's fine. You don't have to-" Before Pickles could even finish his thought, Toki had wrapped his arms around the drummer's waist and was hugging him close, weeping into his shirt. "I...Toki, look, 'dis is...I..."

What could he do? He couldn't tell Toki to get off of him without ruining everything, so he just stood there and let the guitarist hug him tightly and cry. It was so damn un-brutal, but he didn't care. The more time he spent with Toki the more he was beginning to realize that some things were more important than being brutal. That's why Pickles really didn't feel all that embarrassed as he gently laid a hand on the top of the Norwegian's head. "It's fine," he whispered. "Really, it is. I don't know what they said, but-"

"Don't makes me tell you, please."

"You ain't got to if you don't wanna. This is enough. This is-" his voice caught in his throat as Toki looked up at him, his wonderfully blue eyes shining brightly in the white light of the bathroom. He seemed so like a child then, like he depended on Pickles for everything. This made the drummer smile.

"I hates you." Toki said, sniffling and blinking quickly, trying to hide his tears.

This sent a stab of hurt and shame thru the drummer's heart, but it quickly disappeared as he heard the tone of the Norwegian's voice. It was a test to see how far Pickles really cared, to see how much he really wanted to help Toki. To see how much he was willing to endure. The drummer looked away, feeling his smile melt away and a solid lump forming in his throat.

"I...uh..."

"Leaves me alone."

"What?" he glanced back down at Toki. "You don't mean all that shit."

"Yes." he said. "I dos. Everyone around here hates me and tries tos fucks me up; why ams yous so different?"

"I really don't know." Pickles said, struggling to contain his own emotions. Seeing the guitarist like this was too much. It was so pitiful, so pathetic that it was almost enough to make him cry, but he didn't. Crying would be a little to un-brutal, even for him. Then he got an idea. He pulled Toki away from him and inquired, "Hey, you know what we'd used to do in Tomahawk?"

"Tam-hawks? Where ams that?" he asked, putting his hair behind his ears.

"It's this shithole town in Wisconsin, but anyways, you know we'd used t'do when people would try and fuck with us—people like Skwisgaar and Murderface?"

"What?" Toki asked, his old, childish affection returning. "What ams you would do?"

Pickles grabbed his wrist, hauled him to his feet, and walked out the bathroom. "Just fallow me and see."

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Chapter 4, Part 2

Lesson Learned

Ofdensen sighed and began clicking his pen. "So let me get this straight," he said to Pickles, who was sitting on the other side of his office desk. "Not even half an hour after you wake up you manage to start a fight between Skwisgaar and Murderface; you walk up to Skwisgaar, pull on a handful of his hair, and punch him in his face, breaking his nose. Is that correct?"

Both the drummer and the Swede nodded and said together, "Yeah."

"Uh-huh. Then in a panic Toki tries to stop you, but ends up getting a black eye. Murderface sees the fray and also decides to join in; he does this by giving Pickles a kick in his-"

"Let's not go 'dere, please. I still can't walk straight." the drummer cut in, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes were still watering from Murderface's sucker punch. The bassist scoffed at his reaction to Ofdensen's words.

"I wash aiming for hish stomach, but I misshed."

"You think?" Pickles exclaimed, his eyes growing wide. "You were aimin' for my nuts and you know i-"

"Permits me to interrupted yous little cats fights, but I needs another tissue." Skwisgaar said, throwing back his head and pinching his nose. "It ammnest bleedings again."

Ofdensen passed him a whole box of tissues and instructed, "Just keep your head back and it should stop. Now, as for you, Pickles." he turned his attention back to the grimacing drummer. "Can you please repeat your reasoning for starting the fight to begin with?"

"I...well, Skwisgaar and Murderface said somethin' fucked up to Toki, and I had to-"

"Yes, I know, but what exactly did they say?"

Pickles bit his lip and finally admitted, "I...ah, I dunno. Somethin' bad enough to make him cry."

"I'm sorrys." Toki said finally. His right eye was ringed with a black bruise and he was looking at Skwisgaar's bleeding nose with an apologetic expression. "It ams my faults. I makes to big of a deal out of it; I didn'ts mean for all this to happen."

"Well I'm very sorry to hear that, Toki." Ofdensen responded, looking down at his pen. "I'm very disappointed in you—all of you, but especially you, Toki. Being that you're a new addition to the band I would've expected better behavior from you."

"I knows." he said quietly.

"Good. Then you'll understand it when I say that as of today, due to your lack of self-control and the obvious danger you put the band in, you will be permanently kicked out of Dethklok."

Skwisgaar and Murderface exchanged victorious glances, but Pickles nearly ended up jumping out of his seat. "What the fuck?" he yelled. "It wasn't his fau-"

"We will also issue a restraining order against you," Ofdensen continued, clicking his pen. "one that will ban you from being within one-hundred feet of any Dethklok band member or employee. You will also be banned from any future Dethklok concerts and such for the concern of the safety of the band. Do I make myself clear?"

"Fuck no!" Pickles interrupted. "No it's nat clear! He didn't do nothing!"

"I would shut my mouth if I were you, Pickles." he said coolly. "Toki's not the only one who is in hot water here; you won't be kicked out of the band, but I'll make it my personal business to ensure that you are suspended for a one-month period from the band. No playing your drums and no inclusion in the recording of the new album—total alienation from all Dethklok business affairs.."

"Total alienation?" he repeated, his voice unusually high-pitched. "You can't do 'dat! There is no way that you can do 'dat!"

"Sadly yes, there is a way, and if you don't sit down I'm afraid that I'll have to extend that one month to six." Ofdensen said, crossing his arms. Once Pickles had calmed down a little, he turned to Skwisgaar and Murderface. "You two may go."

"Ja, thanks." the Swede said, hurriedly taking his leave before any punishment could be enacted upon him. Murderface left as well, smirking as he passed Toki.

"Nice job, shtupid."

Toki just sat in his chair, his hands gripping the edge of the desk with so much force that every vein stood out in his arms and his knuckles were white. His wide, blue eyes met Ofdensen's as he whispered with some sort of quiet, fearful urgency, "Kicks out of band? Reallys? Just likes that?"

"Yes." he said firmly. "Just like that, I'm afraid. It was a pleasure having you for the brief period that we did, though. If we wouldn't soon be having a restraining order against you, you'd be welcome to come back and visit any time."

Pickles felt his whole body begin to shake. He was pissed and so damn guilty. Not knowing what else to do, he blurted, "It's nat Toki's fault!"

Ofdensen turned to face him, his chair squeaking. "Really? So Toki's inappropriate reaction to Skwisgaar's actions had nothing to do with you starting a fight?"

"Well...no."

"Then what did?"

"I...ah..." he took a careful glance over at Toki and saw that he was staring at him with desperate eyes. Please, please saves me...helps me...

"I told him I wanted to show him how to stand up for himself. He tried to stap me and 'dat's all that happened. It wasn't his fault. I was pissed at Skwisgaar and was planning on fucking him up anyways."

"What would make you want to beat him up before Toki started crying?" Ofdensen asked, a skeptic look on his face.

Pickles thought for a moment then replied, "He ate my bagel."

"Your bagel?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding quickly. "Yeah, I had written my name on the little plastic bag thing and everything but he still ate it and I gat really pissed, so-"

"So you beat him up?"

The drummer continued nodding like an idiot. "Yep. Went right up to him and beat the livin' shit outta him." It had to have been the worst lie he'd ever told in his life.

Toki just relaxed and tried hard not to laugh as he said, "Ja, that ams true. Pickle really, really wanted to eats that bagel."

"Uh-huh." Ofdensen sighed and put down his pen. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. This time he sounded a little more agitated. "Pickles, I don't know why you're doing what you're doing, but by lying to me you're only worsening your punishment. You are aware of this?"

He shrugged. "I guess I am. The only problem is that I just don't care."

"Very well then. I will extend your one-month suspension to six months."

"And what about Toki?"

Ofdensen frowned. "Toki? Well, perhaps his punishment won't be quite as harsh. Since he's still rather new to the band and isn't all that familiar with the rules, I suppose that a one-month suspension is also in order. Is that fair?"

Pickles narrowed his eyes at the finely suited man. "Make it half a month."

"Two months."

"A week."

He thought for a moment and nodded stiffly. "Fine. You two may now leave my office." and he turned in his chair and proceeded to pour himself a glass of brandy. Pickles immediately got up out of his chair and exited the room, not even bothering to meet Toki's thankful, affectionate gaze.

It was too much for him; too much affection, too much hurt, too much innocence wrapped up in one person. Pickles couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand why he'd sacrificed so much for someone so emotionally muddled and confused. When he tried to make sense of it all he just quit, because it was just too much to think about.

To his dismay, Toki followed him. He walked with his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and his head hung low. Only when Pickles had rounded the hall that lead away from Ofdensen's office did he speak. "Pickle?"

"Yeah?" he asked snappishly.

"I...I'ms really sorry I made you get in trouble."

"You didn't make me do anything. Nobody makes me do anything."

"You says that lots of the time, but-"

Suddenly he stopped walking and turned to face Toki. "Hey, look, why don't you just—I really just need to think right now, okay?"

"Abouts how much you hates me?"

Pickles shook his head. "Course nat. I don't hate you."

"Oh, I gets it. You just don't likes me."

The drummer narrowed his eyes at Toki and hissed, "Look, I know you're nat stupid, so stap actin' like it. Do you really think for one fucking second that if I hated you or didn't like you that I'd risk my fuckin' neck back there? That I'd get my ass suspended just to keep you from goin' back to stupid Norway?"

Toki shook his head and answered shyly, "Nos, I guess not."

"Okay, then. Now just—I really need...I'm so fuckin' overwhelmed right now..." his voice trailed off and leaned heavily against the wall, gripping head in his hands. "...I just need to clear my head—get drunk, get fuckin' stoned. There's just so much I gotta think about..."

Toki sat down next to him and said, not casting him a second glance, "You sometimes scares the shit outs of me."

"Huh?" he asked, shifting his gaze to the guitarist. He hadn't noticed it before, but the Norwegian was shaking, struggling not to cry; his face was so pale. "Toki, what's wrong? You look sick."

"I guess I ams. Damns it, it ams just that you reminds me so much of my dads when you was fighting Skwisgaar. It scared me, that's all." he hugged his knees to his chest and repeated, "Scares the shit outs of me."

"I'm sorry." Pickles said. "I didn't know your dad was, y'know, like that."

"It ams fine." he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Can'ts do nothing abouts it now; couldn'ts do anything abouts it when he beat the fucks out of me, either." his pale eyes met the drummer's. "Right? I couldn'ts have done nothings about it when he hurts me?"

And there it was. Toki had finally come out and admitted that there was a bigger problem with his parents other than the fact that they hadn't wanted him to speak English or go to the Dethklok concert. Pickels had always sensed this, but told himself that his worries were in vain, that Toki was really a good, happy person, which is what he always appeared to be—even now he was putting on that fake mask and smiling bitterly as he spoke. But still, it made him feel sick to hear him actually admit it.

"No, Toki," he finally answered. "You couldn't have done nothing about it, not one damn thing."

"Okays. That ams good. I've always sorts of wondered if it was my faults for not doings nothing, but what coulds I do? Nothing..." Toki's small smile faded slightly as a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away hastily, trying to hide it, but Pickles saw it anyway.

The drummer rolled his eyes, hating the guitarist for how badly he was making him feel. All at once lost and forgotten memories of his own father came racing back to him, and with them came Sarah Simon's words:

He's such a mean, horrible boy. I hate him...

"Toki, have you ever...ever..." he didn't know where his question was going, but he did know what he needed now more than anything. With a shaking, wretched voice, he asked, "T-Toki? Can you p-please do somethin' for me?"

"Ja?" he asked, putting some of his long, brown hair behind his ears.

"I'm nat good with words or this sort of thing, but can you maybe just give me a hug?"

Toki's grin grew and he seemed to temporarily forget the trauma of his childhood. He went over to Pickles and hugged him tightly, securely.

You think that just because you drink a few beers you're a grown-up? You're just a dumb, stupid boy.

"Toki, did I ever tell you about Sarah?"

The Norwegian shook his head and asked, "Nos. Who ams she?"

"I loved her, I really did. I fuckin' know I did, but-"

"She ams the one who didn't loves you back?"

Pickles hesitated before daring to nod. He'd never told anyone about Sarah before. He supposed that she was sort of his own deep, dark secret; the most humiliating and horrible chapter of his life. His life, because Sarah had been around until he ran away after high school. He had asked her to prom every year until he got so wrapped up in booze and drugs that he just didn't give a fuck about anyone or anything anymore.

"Stupid Sarah." he said, trying very hard not to cry. "I fuckin' loved that dumb bitch, but she was a bratty little piece of shit and said I was stupid and threw it right back in my face. Can you believe 'dat? Right back in my face..."

"Pickle?"

"What?"

"I...um..." Toki ended the hug and got to his feet. His eyes glanced nervously down the hall, trying to make sure that nobody was coming. "I thinks that she was stupids. I thinks that you ams really great and she ams a dumb idiot and you should gets over her."

"Forget her?" Pickles shook his head. "I can't forget her."

"Then just don'ts thinks about her. That ams what I do when I something hurts. Just don't thinks about it and it won't hurt anymores." and Toki smiled brightly. "It's the best way."

He considered this for a moment and then peered over at the Norwegian. He couldn't forget her, not as long as he was with the guitarist. He looked so much like her with his long, brown hair and pale eyes... he was so much better than Sarah. Pickles sighed and pulled himself away from the wall. He gave Toki a little grin.

"You're right, let's just forget. Let's just both forget all that shit and move on. That's good, right?"

Toki nodded. "Ja, that ams good."

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Chapter 4, Part 3

Sign It Away

About three days later everyone gathered in the conference room. Ofdensen sat, clicking his pen as usual, his face gravely serious. As soon as they had all taken their seats, he began. "Although we've had a few confrontations over the past few days, I believe that it's time to for Toki to sign his six-month contract."

Pickles arched a brow. "You typed it up already?"

He nodded curtly. "Yes, and although I would've rather waited a while, the executives at the record company are eager to sign him on so that we can officially begin our work with Duncan Hills." he pulled a large packet of papers out of his briefcase and passed them to Toki. "By signing this you are fully aware that you and all of your valuables will become official property of Dethklok, am I correct?"

Toki picked up the pen that Ofdensen handed him and shrugged. "Ja, sures, whatever that means."

Nathan crossed his arms. "We didn't sign over our stuff when we did the contracts."

"That's because," Ofdensen said briskly, cleaning his glasses. "you didn't have to sign a brief six-month contract; Toki does. The stakes are higher for breaking it."

"So where ams I to sign?" the Norwegian asked, tapping the table distractedly with the pen.

Skwisgaar smirked. "Sos you ammnest goings to sign over all your stuffs?"

"Sures."

"And your life?" Ofdensen inquired. Toki glanced at him curiously.

"My lifes? I don't get it."

"By signing that six-month contract you will agree to the following terms-" Ofdensen explained, clearing his throat. He took out another copy of the contract and began to read. "All personal affects will become official Dethklok property, to be used as seen fit by any and all musicians and/or employees of Dethklok..."he paused, skipped ahead, and added, "The signer's life will be forfeit in exchange for a brief six-month trail period as the rhythm guitarist of Dethklok; he will comply with the rules set forth by the other band members. Meaning, quite simply, that if the band is put in danger, you will be the last to be saved."

"And also that he has to dos what we tells of him?" Skwisgaar asked, a slow, steady smile spreading across his face.

Ofdensen shrugged. "I suppose so, but let me encourage you to treat him as if he were-"

"Shign it!" Murderface urged Toki. "Jusht do it sho we can get out of thish shtupid meeting!"

"I just figured that this might be a big deal for you all." Ofdensen said, frowning at the bassist. "After all, once Toki signs this he'll be part of the band for half a year." then he said to the guitarist, "Oh, and just in case you find the language murky, here." he pulled out yet another large packet from his briefcase and passed it to Toki. "I've provided a copy in Norwegian for you."

Toki glanced thru the contract and then turned to Pickles. "Ams it good?"

"Huh?"

"Shoulds I sign it?"

He took a sip out of the bottle of vodka he was holding. "You really want me to tell you what to do?"

Toki nodded. "Ja, please helps me."

He thought for a moment then took then pen from the Norwegian's hand. "I honestly think that you shouldn't do it, but-"

"What?" Nathan asked. "He's been begging for us to sign him on since the day we met him!"

"Well, yeah, but Toki, you're literally signin' you life away. You know 'dat, right?"

"Lets him dos it if he wants." Skwisgaar said, glaring at the drummer. "His life ain'ts worth much anyways."

Pickles ignored him and placed the pen in front of Toki. "Do you really, really want 'dis?"

Toki gave an immediate nod. "Yes, more than anythings."

"Then go ahead and sign it, I guess."

All Pickles could do was sit back and watch as the guitarist signed his name. It hurt like hell to watch him do it, to know just what Toki was sacrificing, but he didn't stop him. If this was Toki's dream then who was he to fuck it up? Even if the Norwegian's dream did involve him having his stuff taken away and his life put in danger—or ended—on a whim...

Pickles looked down and bit his lip as Toki placed the pen back down on the table. "So I ams in the band now? Really ins it?"

"Yes," Ofdensen said, gathering up the contracts. "Congratulations. As of today you are an official musician of Dethklok."

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**A/N**

I don't know why, but for some reason I just keep expecting to get a really bad review for this story-I mean a really bad one. Don't ask me why, but I just do. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and remember that reviews are love-though hopefully they're good reviews-and that there's probably only going to be three or four chapters left.