Chapter 8.09 - Blood Fest II

The night air swirled like a Van Gough painting as Skwisgaar stumbled lifelessly through the festival crowd.

"Fucking Thunderhoooooorrrse! Wooooooo!" The voice from the speakers boomed again. "With their sick new lead guitarist! Make some motherfuckin' noise for PELLE, the shrrrrrred maaasssttteeerrrrrr!"

A wave of cold sweat crashed over the world's fastest guitarist. He turned to the stage as a guy with a long, green mohawk started the crowd's chant.

Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le! Pel-le!

He must still be asleep because this was a starry-fucking-nightmare! His heart heaved and thrashed against his ribcage as it tried to escape. Anxiety and adrenaline mixed and merged in his gut. The world warped and darkened around him. Bricks were ripped from his wall in rhythm with the chant.

He snapped.

"Don'ts you says his name!" Skwisgaar yelled as he spun wildly about. His eyes were erratic and scared, every movement was defensive. "Don'ts any of you says it!" He was totally exposed; A retched, black soul, naked and bare. They could see him; FUCK! They could SEE him. They knew everything, all of them! Their faces closed in around him. He was a cornered animal running purely on instinct; his fight instincts took hold this time.

Charles was distracted from his phone call by the sound of Swedish fists connecting with someone's face. "Roy, I'll have to call you back." Charles snapped the phone shut and strode with purpose to the guitarist. "Dear god! Stop this!"

Skwisgaar threw his victim backwards but the man found his footing and moved in for the counter attack. Charles drew a Taser from his breast pocket and administered a good dose of lightning to the would-be assailant. He then quickly ushered the Lead guitarist away from the public-relations-nightmare twitching on the asphalt.

"Just go back to the Limo, I'll get Toki." He tried to order.

"Fuck hims! He amn'st coming." The swede wiped cold sweat from his brow and hot tears from his cheeks as he trod angrily through the festival grounds.

"He has to come back, we're too far behind schedule for this!" Offdensen argued as he trotted alongside him; that phone call was not a friendly one.

"Well he amn'st in Dethklok no mores so he amn'st needings to record." Skwisgaar's voice levelled out as they passed through the gate.

"What?"

"I fireds him."

"Oh dear God, not this again." His manager let out a frustrated sigh as they approached the limo.

"No! Fucks him! If he ams so fuckings happy here den he can stays!" The driver opened the door for his master and Skwisgaar slid inside without even breaking step. "I says goods ridgenks!"

Charles looked back at the stage; If they left now he could drop Skwisgaar home and then return to pick up Toki just after the festival ended. The accompanying security hood opened the door for his master, "Three-Forty-Two, keep an eye on things here until I return." Charles ordered as he took his seat.

"Yes, Sire." The hood confirmed. He closed the door and the Limo pulled away.

Toki ran after Emily as she ducked and weaved through the crowd.

"Waits, please!" he called after her. She turned to face him with puffy red eyes and smeared mascara. He tried to hold her.

"No! No, no, no, no!" She said as she smacked him away repeatedly. She stood there a perfect mess. The Norwegian held his mouth open for a long time as he started a few different sentences but didn't give sound to any of them.

"I's sorry." He finally said. "I just… I just…"

The crowd started a new chant;

PEL-LE! PEL-LE! PEL-LE!

"I'm so embarrassed." Her voice broke. She threw her hands up again to block her view of the Norwegian, "Nope, nope, I can't do this." She walked away.

"No waits, please…" He grabbed her arm, she didn't pull away. He looked around for somewhere private to talk and lead her to a clearing by the fence.

"I's sorry. I don't knows whats else to say. I know it was bad ofs mes but…" Toki sighed, "buts it was so nice, just, not beings me." He gestured his hand toward the chanting crowd.

She jostled on the spot with her gaze averted. "I can't even look at you." She crossed her arms.

"Ares you dat mad wit mes?"

"No." She stole a glance at him, "It's because you're Toki fucking Wartooth." She said awkwardly. Toki sighed again.

"And dis ams why I didn't tells you." He said forlorn. She stole another glance at his saddened face. She had heard the fame machine was brutal but what had it done to this man? With that in mind, it was hard to pity a billionaire.

"It's just a lot to take in." She said truthfully. Toki leaned against the fence next to her and took out his cigarette packet. He searched for his lighter then remembered he had thrown it. Just another kick in the nuts.

"Here." Emily took a lighter from her pocket, "I'm going need one of those, too." The guitarist lit two and passed one over. She took a deep calming draw of her fresh cigarette "So…. What now?"

"What's you mean?"

"I mean, like, what now? What happens now? You know, with us?" She stood away from the fence, "What the fuck am I saying? You're going to go back to Mordhaus and I will have never existed." She scoffed at herself.

"Dat amn'st true!"

"Really?"

"Reallies! You amn'st just some groupie sluts to me."

"Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe."

"You amn'st like dem at alls! Yous sweet and funnies ands, ands you likes me for mes." The Norwegian tried to explain, "You's not some stupid girls whats just wants rock star dick." He looked over to her and they locked eyes, "Yous… yous a woman. A reals woman."

At first it disgusted her how many other girls he had slept with; but then again, she trumped them all.

"So, you really meant what you said… back there?"

"Um, wells, ja. I thinks I did." He smiled at her.

"Fuck." She laughed and shifted her gaze from one shoe to the other, "Well… I think…. that maybe…. I feel the same way." She looked up sheepishly. They locked eyes again and let the warm rush of emotions fill their hearts. "Fucking hell, Emily." She gripped the fence with her free hand "You only go and fall for Toki from Dethklok." Her long black hair flicked at the ends as she shook her head.

Toki sighed again. "Nopes. Looks likes I justs regular olds Toki now." He drew back on his cigarette, "I really fucks up dis time. Why da hells does he has to be such an ass! I don't even knows what he ams angry abouts." He rested the back of his head against the fence, "Well, what he ams extra angry abouts, anyway." He listened to the crowd and frowned. What was so wrong with the name 'Pelle'?

"Do you think you can work it out?" She exhaled smoke through the wire.

"I don'ts know. I don'ts even knows if I wants to." Silence fell between them. He turned his head to see Norman standing just outside the shipping container looking about franticly. Toki put out his cigarette, "Looks like I gots to play now."

"You're still… you're still going to play?"

"Ja. Of course. De show must goes on, as they says."

Emily saw Norman looking at them. She tentatively took Toki's hand and gave her brother a smile to tell him everything was cool. She let the guitarist's callouses scratch her palm and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "If you're sure, then you better go. The crowd is getting pretty restless."

"Yous right abouts that." Toki thought he heard a fight break out somewhere close by.

"Maybe afterwards, you can take me for a ride in your Ferrari?" She teased and gave his hand a little squeeze.

"Oh, ums…"

"Oh. You can't be seen in public with me." Her face drooped.

"No, no, nos, nots dat, just, I don'ts have a driver's license."

"Oh!"

"Or a Ferrari."

"Oh?"

"But I just, ahhh, borrow, one from Pickle. He won't notice." He extended his other hand and pushed her hair back behind her ear. "You has to drive, dhough."

Emily burst out laughing. Joyriding in Pickle's stolen Ferrari with Toki Wartooth; The ridiculousness of this conversation had hit its max.

"Whats?" The Norwegian was genuinely confused.

"Nothing, nothing, just, wow! You know?" She saw her brother make concerned gestures towards her. The Norwegian looked over. Norman quickly stopped shifting from one foot to the other and stood up straight.

She leaned in and gave Toki a soft kiss, "Break a leg, ok?" He embraced her tightly and soaked in all her good vibes. No matter what his future now held at least he would be holding her.

He broke away reluctantly and walked towards her brother. Norman didn't quite know what to do so he just stuck out his hand. Toki extended his own hand and they shook.

"So… what now?" Norman asked.

"Whats now? We gots a show to play, that whats."

Norman's eyes went wide with surprise. "We're… we're still goin' to play?"

"Ja. All dese peoples comes to sees Thunderhorse, rights? Well I amn'st going to be the one whats makes dem unhappy. So, let's do dis."

Norman actually let a little smile cross his lips; This man of conviction was a perfect match for his baby sister after all "Yeah, man. Let's do this."

They entered the green room together and the other band members all turned quickly.

"Alright! Change-over boys!" Norman announced with a clap of his hands and a big grin, "We've got a gig ta play."

"What?!" Pockles barked from the back of the room.

"We're…. We're still gunna play?" Gary twitched with what seemed to be eagerness.

"Why's everyone keeps asking dat?" Toki put a hand to his brow in annoyance, "Can'ts you hear dem?" He shifted his hand to point towards the crowd. They had switched back to:

THUN-DER-HORSE! THUN-DER-HORSE! THUN-DER-HORSE!

"But Offdensen?" Billy wrung his hands in dismay; It felt weird speaking to Toki as a friend now.

"Charles can licks a dildo!" The brunette retorted, "He ams always tries to boss me abouts, well nots dis time! I don't has to do what he says no mores." He scrunched his fists at his sides, "Or dat jaevale Swedish asshole. He can licks a dildo too! In facts, he can chokes on one!"

Pockles and Billy looked at one another and shrugged. Then at Norman then at Gary. Gary looked positively love sick, like a cartoon character stuck by cupid's arrow. Billy gave him a sharp clip behind the ear, "Don't be a weirdo, Gary."

"B-b-b-but it's Toki fucking Wartooth!" Gary stammered. "Right here, in this room, with us!"

Toki crossed his arms and rolled his eyes but secretly loved the admiration.

"Well dey here for Thunderhorse tonight and ifs you wants my professionals advice," Gary did, "we betters get out deres or they goings to rip yous apart." He flashed back to the gulf of Danzig, "Literally." He added in a level tone.

"That's right! C'mon boys. Let's do wha' we came here to do!" Total immunity had given Norman a new vigour, "Let's rock their fucking nuts off!"

"Yeeeahhhhhhh!" Gary made his hands into horns and threw them in the air, "Cocks 'n' fuckin' all!" he concurred with matching enthusiasm.

"Jesus Christ, Gary." Pockles laughed and shook his head. Thunderhorse passed a warm glance to one another; They'd already made history, getting to play was just icing on the cake.

Norman went to find the stage hand and signalled to the Dicks that they could stop stalling for time. The other band members unpacked and gently recalibrated their hastily stowed instruments. Toki wandered over to the Gibson X-plorer and delicately lifted it out of its case. The shape, the feel, the tone, all of it was Dethklok's lead guitarist. The brunette turned to the rest of the band and each of them looked back at him with admiration and excitement. This is what Thunderhorse had dreamed of for so long and Toki was the one to help them realise their dream. He might not have as many fans after tonight but he would have so many more friends. He positioned the guitar strap over his shoulder and gave them a solidifying nod.

"Right! Let's fuckin' do this!" Norman gave the battle cry and they marched out onto the stage.

This was it, this was Toki's chance to prove not only to himself but to that Swedish prick that he deserved to wear this guitar, that he could play it just as skilfully, that his soul rang just as loudly, that he no longer stood in his shadow but on the same pedestal and shone just as magnificently; If that didn't make Skwisgaar finally look at him then he must be blind. Tonight was no longer for Skwisgaar's honour, no, this was for Toki's.

After set-up and line check Thunderhorse galloped into their set. Everyone in the pit swayed and jostled and jumped together with three people simultaneously crowd surfing at any one time. Toki loved being this close to the fans. Watching the sweat bead from their brow, hearing their yells lift the night sky, the energy and emotion of every song carved into their faces.

They finished their third song and Norman addressed the crowd. "How you doin' tonight BLOOD FEST!?" The crowd gave a loud cheer in response. "For those of you who don't know us, I'm Norman Blowup and we are Thunderhorse, a tribute to the almighty DETHKLOK!" Norman awkwardly looked over at Toki but their lead guitarist was in performance mode, posing for the photographers and blowing kisses to the topless girls sitting on shoulders. In only half a second, Toki had given him a full lesson on professional showmanship. "On bass guitar," Norman continued, "Billy Butterface!" Billy played a funky jazz riff the crowd adored. "On rhythm guitar, Tooki Wolfpaint!" Gary did an adlib shred that went on longer than it rightfully should have. "Behind me, we have Pockles the drummer!" Pockles did a quick little drum fill to make a wordless point to Gary. "and last but by no means least." He moved his hand in Toki's direction, "Our new lead guitarist and friend, make some fucking noise for Pelle!" The crowd erupted into a cacophony of applause. Norman backed off as Toki moved to the front of the stage and stuck a power stance. The lead guitarist spotted Emily with Mary in the crowd.

("Well he's the closest thing I've heard to the REAL Skwisgaar")

The closest thing? No. He was Skwisgaar. He had crawled inside his soul and now wore it as a jumpsuit. He had harnessed the power of a god and bent it to his will. It was Skwisgaar's music and he could play it. The shameful taste of aquavit ghosted over his tongue. He had matched the guitar god in technique and speed but only from their older titles. If he was to prove he was Skwisgaar's equal he would have to play his current work. Toki took a deep breath and broke into one of Skwisgaar's superbly technical solos from the new album. His mind raced ten notes ahead of his fingers which glided up and down the fretboard. His pick moved effortlessly and almost of its own accord. The music rang out bright and clean over the awestruck crowd.

There was movement but not moshing.

There were screams but not elation.

Some people were changing. Their eyes glazed over arsenic green. Their faces devoid of compassion. Their bodies, moving like puppets.

The only thing more terrifying than the sound of footsteps approaching the dungeon door, was the wiring sound of the electric wheelchair. The prisoners huddled together in the dark, dank bunker as the faint voices of their captors echoed in the outside hallway.

"We thought our chance was lost," the Harvard educated voice began, "but then the Dethkopter was heard over that section of the wood the following day and we got it! All the lead guitar tracks from the new album are now ours."

"And you think this will work?" The gruff, sandpapery tone responded.

"We've already developed some extraordinary technology to weaponize their own music against them but this technique incorporates a more 'human' approach. Each of them have tickets to the album launch show so when they hear the trigger music, they will be within striking distance."

"And if they fail?"

"Then we carry out the attack on Mordhaus. We can't lose." The steel door swung open and the prisoners squirmed backwards again. In rolled the wheelchair-bound goatee accompanied by the steel face of death. "Congratulations!" The goatee boomed over the trembling mass of limbs, "You have all been strategically selected to become sleeper agents."

"Selected?! You mean kidnapped!" One of the more defiant prisoners argued. The man with the silver face casually stepped towards the rebel, grabbed him by the back of the head and ran his blade across his throat. The prisoner spluttered and violently twitched as the black-red puddle grew about his knees. He fell forward with a final gasp and splattered his blood all over a pretty, young girl with long black hair.

Emily grabbed her head in pain as each note unlocked more murderous thoughts.

(Death, Dethklok, death, Dethklok, Death-klok, Death-klok, die, die, die, Dethklok, die, Dethklok, die)

"Shit, Emmy!" Mary held her friend to stop her collapsing. People started running for the gates as their friends and bandmates turned on them. Broken bottles, splinters of table, poles from chairs, everything became a weapon. Slashing, biting, cracking. A coffee cart was hurled through the air and the scolding hot water burned the people below.

"Emmy! We got to get the fuck out of here!" Mary shook Emily who still clutched her skull.

(Dethklok must die! Dethklok must die! Dethklok must die! Dethklok must die!)

"What's wrong with you? We've got to move!" Mary screamed in desperation as the eyes in front of her gained a greenish glow and a blank, zombie like expression consumed the English girl's features. Emily straightened herself and shot out her hands to wrap neatly around the blonde woman's neck. Small plastic bags of white powder fell from Mary's bosom as she ripped at her assailant with her manicured talons. Emily twisted her hands and a loud spinal pop stopped her victim's thrashing. She watched her friend fall to the ground without so much as a twitch of her eye.

She was a solider.

Fuelled by revengeance.

With only one mission:

KILL DETHKLOK