A massive thank you to LyssieTheMoonAngel who has helped edit this chapter. Truely an inspriation!
Chapter 8-11 Blood Fest III
Skwisgaar sat with his arms crossed glaring out the window of the limo as it passed through the suburban neighbourhoods.
"Is there anything you want to, arhhh, talk about?" Charles asked, noting the lead guitarist's unusually messy face.
"Nos."
"Are you sure?"
"Ja… Nej… Jag vet inte." Skwisgaar crossed his arms tighter.
Charles sighed; Skwisgaar had switched to Swedish which meant he was closed tight like a clam and prying at him would achieve nothing. "Well then, I need to finish this phone call."
Charles drew his dethphone from his suit jacket pocket and dialled Roy Cornickelson, head of Crystal Mountain Records. "Roy, hi, sorry about that. Yes …yes… yes, I understand but that's the problem…." Skwisgaar glanced sideways at his manager. Typical robot, talking business at a time like this. "Ah-huh. Yes, well, as I said, things have been a bit, arrh, hectic our end…" Hectic? Is that what you call the rhythm guitarist having a psychotic break, or something, and absconding to hang with a group of weirdos while the lead guitarist collapses from exhaustion? Oh, and now Dethklok was down a member. Hectic seemed an understatement; this was fucking chaos. "…so I just don't see us making the extended deadline…. Yes, twice extended, I know, however,"
Skwisgaar scowled, his mouth twisting with contempt. This was the expectation, to keep pumping out music on command like trained dogs. He didn't work for the label, the label worked for him! He was the talent and without him they would have nothing. Skwisgaar reached over and forcibly yanked the phone from Charles's hand.
"Roy, you wills gets it when we feels like givings it to yous so," Skwisgaar's face turned gradually more sour as he listened to Roy's grievances, "Well maybes some tings am more importants dan de FUCKINGS ALBUM!" He hung up and threw the phone on the seat next to Charles.
"Jesus Christ, Skwisgaar!" Charles put his head in both hands.
"Nos! Fucks Roy and fucks de label! I don't cares no mores. Dey takes an' takes an' takes and we always gots to give! Whats about us?" He crossed his arms again and stared at his knees like a sulking child.
Charles rubbed his eyes under his glasses; obviously the billions of dollars they got in return had slip Skwisgaar's mind. "Look, Roy has been very lenient and" His phone rang again, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow at Charles as he hardly ever swore. Charles kept his thumb and forefinger on his scrunched up eyelids as he answered "Roy, look," He paused then brought his head up sharply as all colour drained from his face; It wasn't Roy. Charles squared his shoulders "Secure the Rabbit and wait for backup. ETA, twelve minutes." He hung up.
The sudden change in his manager's conduct threw Skwisgaar from his moodiness. Charles pushed a button to his right and the glass sheet between the driver and them wound down. "Turn around. Scramble the Dethkopter and transmit our coordinates to it. Prepare for maneuver D-K-25." He barked at the driver.
"Yes, Sire." The driving hood slammed the brakes and rounded the vehicle with surprising elegance considering the tonne of spikes and amour plating. Skwisgaar braced himself against the ceiling as they did a 180 degree about-face.
"De fucks ams happenings?!"
"Skwisgaar!" Charles assumed a demeanour of total control, "You do not leave this car. No matter what. Do you understand?"
"What de fucks ams"
"Do you understand?!"
"Fucks. Oks." Skwisgaar yielded to the authoritative voice.
"Good." Charles took a deep breath as the rumble of the Dethkopter was heard on the horizon. "Now fasten your seat belt and hang on tight."
-0-0-0-
Toki looked out over the crowd and could almost taste the salty air of the Polish gulf. The screams, violence, panic, confusion; it was happening all over again. His eyes darted franticly for Emily, but it was impossible to find her in the squirming crowd. He turned to Thunderhorse, each of their faces were etched with fear. After all of Thunderhorse's tough talk, they were only a fledgling band and a fan attack was the furthest thing from their minds.
"Quicks!" Toki threw down his guitar, "Intos the box!" He pointed to the shipping container. Thunderhorse moved swiftly inside the green room and began sliding the lock bolts into place. Toki stood just outside the main door and scanned the crowd for Emily again. She was out there, somewhere. Maybe hiding, maybe running, either way she was frightened and powerless. If something were to happen to her Toki would never forgive himself. He had to save her. Toki put a hand on either side of the heavy metal doors, "Don'ts you guys leaves dis box." His eyes were steeled with conviction, "I'ms going to finds Emily." The band gave him the 'don't-you-do-what-you're-about-to-do' look as Toki slammed the large metal doors shut and slipped the lock bolt into place from the outside. He could faintly hear Norman's frantic yells and banging as he dashed into the heaving sea of screams.
-0-0-0-
Trees bowed, bicycles slid into garage doors and lawn furniture rolled like tumbleweeds as the great, whirling behemoth aligned itself with the suburban street and came down dangerously low. The floating fortress chugged on in front of the car and slowly opened the hatch to its great, cavernous belly. Sparks flew as the lowered gangplank bounced and scrapped along the road.
Skwisgaar's skin flushed cold as the Limousine gained speed to meet it. He looked to his manager who wore the face of a sea captain, calm, detached and controlled. Charles leaned forward to observe the scene through the windscreen and Skwisgaar copied him just as the Kopter's huge, rear spotlights clunked on. The light pierced Skwisgaar's eyes and he was forced to scrunch them shut. With his vision lost, he could feel every bump in the road, the downward pressure from the blades, his own blood pulsing through his limbs. This was nuts! Skwisgaar straightened his back, dug his fingers deep into the upholstery and braced for impact. The Kopter slowed, the limo engine reved, more sparks flew and with a great scrape of metal on metal they were inside. The vehicle came to an abrupt stop in the cargo hold and the guitarist finally took a breath. His fingers were locked stiff in their position.
Charles unbuckled himself as a hood ran over to open the limo door for him. He stepped out into the cargo bay, a vision of perfect authority. "Do you have a lock on Toki?"
Skwisgaar's curiosity piqued at the mention of Toki. What did that little dildo have to do with this? Had he gone too far with Roy and the label was trying to pull some shit? What would they possibly want with an Ex-band member? He unbuckled himself and poked his head out of the Limo door to listen.
"Not yet, sire. Three-Forty-Two is locating the young lord now. It seems the situation has worsened." The officer hood followed his suit clad commander.
"Is it them?" Charles's surveyed the hooded soldiers moving into formation.
"It's hard to say, sire, but it seems consistent with their previous attacks."
Skwisgaar's nordic eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck was going on? Skwisgaar looked nervously at the military hoods lined up along the edge of the Kopter's opening, donned in all their best tactical gear.
"We're approaching the restaurant district now." An officer hood informed his supreme commander. Skwisgaar stepped out of the Limo and stood holding the top of the door. They were returning to the festival to get Toki, but with soldiers?
"Alpha squad, Deploy!" Charles instructed with a wave of his hand, "Don't let them disappear into the alley ways!" Skwisgaar watched the first two rows of soldiers rush forward, coiled rope in hand and dive backwards over the edge. The only situation that required this level of response was… his heart froze as the burning cold sensation of Polish snow bristled across his shoulders.
-0-0-0-
The sound of gunfire filled the streets and those that could not make it to the festival gate took refuge in the street-side businesses. Toki scanned every head in front of him for Emily's long black hair. Not her, not her, not her, not her. Is that her?! No. Fuck! He scurried on, deflecting blows and bouncing off rubble until he saw a green mohawk ruthlessly swinging a fractured section of coffee cart wheel. Rick was kneeling nearby with his blood drenched hand clutched to his side as one of the zombies moved in from behind. Toki bent down and scooped up a mangled, metal stool leg then dashed towards the Dicks. He came in behind their attacker and connected the thin pipe with the back of the zombie's knees. Toki brought the piece of metal down again and clubbed the attacker's temple. The zombie fell backwards then lay still on the asphalt.
"Shit, that was Cameron." Rick spluttered as he stared down at the unconscious man.
Ricky spun around, cartwheel in hand. "Pelle!" relief washed over his face, "What the fuck is going on?!"
"Danzig." Toki panted. "Is Danzig, all over agains." He reached out and tugged the Duncan Hills banner off the up-ended coffee cart next to them.
"A fucking fan attack?!" Ricky watched Toki tear the banner in two and wrap it around Rick's haemorrhaging torso. Ricky brandished his hub of splinters in an attempt to protect patient and medic from the chaos.
"Why the fuck would anyone attack a no-name band like Thunderhorse?" Rick asked in short, laboured breaths as Toki draped him across his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.
"Oh, Nos.", Toki's voice dropped with realisation, "Dis ams mine faults." He stared at his shoes for a moment and internally scolded himself for not realising it earlier.
"What?" Ricky turned to face him with a scowl of impatience.
"They amn'st after Thunderhorse." Toki shook his head in dismay then looked up into Ricky's face, "Theys after mes."
"After you? Why the fuck would…" Ricky cut out mid sentence when he saw Toki's apologetic and remorseful eyes. He stared at him curiously then realisation crashed over him in waves. The showmanship, the depth of Dethklok musical knowledge, the lighting speed on the guitar; it all made sense now. He mentally scanned every picture he had ever seen of Dethklok's rhythm guitarist, "Holy shit." When your mind deems something impossible you don't see it, but the impossible was starring Ricky square in the face, "because you're Toki fucking Wartooth."
Two sets of eyes the hue of a nuclear melt-down twisted at the sound of the name. Toki watched the zombies move together towards him like wolves in the wood. He glanced at the Dicks. Ricky had no skill with weapons and Rick could barely stand on his own; they would be useless in a fight. He wouldn't let his friends die, not for him. If the best he could do was lead them away it would give the Dick's a chance to escape.
"Dats right!" Toki held the predatory gaze of the two zombies as he slipped Rick from his own shoulder onto Ricky's. "Dats right, I ams!" He picked up the mangled chair leg and brandished it towards his assailants to get their full attention, "I ams Toki FUCKINGS Wartooth!" Rick and Ricky gawked openly as Toki coaxed the attackers towards him. Toki stepped backwards cautiously, putting space between him and the Dicks, "Guitarist for Dethklok." The zombies moved past the twin Dicks, ignoring them. His plan was working. Toki took a last glance at his friends and they returned the same imploring expression as Thunderhorse. Toki stared the closest zombie dead in the eye and defiantly thwacked his metal chair leg on the nearest pile of rubble. "So comes get me!" He turned and sprinted away with the green dots in hot pursuit.
He darted around lamp posts and jumped over corpses as he lead the zombies away from the Twin Dicks. When he had gone far enough, he turned to face his attackers. Toki swung his weapon and landed a blow on the side of one zombie's head. It hit the road with an inelegant thud and did not move again. The other was a petite woman with a mess of brown hair. She went straight for his front and grabbed the pipe. She was unnaturally strong for her stature and forced Toki into a tug-of-war for the weapon. Toki gritted his teeth and squeezed his shoulders together to bring her in close then head butted her right between the eyes. She ripped the pipe from his hand as she staggered backwards. She corrected her footing then went in for the kill. Toki brought his elbow up and struck her between the eyes again. She fell to the ground, now perfectly still.
Toki's chest heaved as he caught his breath. He looked down at his defeated assailants and a small glimmer of pride flickered in his heart. Those hours in the gym had finally paid off and he was confident he could protect Emily from these people. He needed to find her quickly. He lifted his head to survey what was left of the festival. She was smart and nimble, maybe she had already gotten away? What if she were back at the slaughter house, sitting safely, high up on the roof, anxiously biting her nails as she watched the road, waiting for their return?
He turned his gaze in the direction of the slaughter house and scanned the rooftops for her silhouette. Without warning a sharp, hot force struck him from behind and raked crudely across his upper back. Shock gripped him. The piercing sting of the night air scraping over his exposed flesh sent him to his knees. He swore as he turned his body to see her luminescent green eyes starring sadistically into his. Long, black hair whipped violently about her face. A broken bottle clutched in her right hand; blood dripping lazily down the jagged glass onto her whitened knuckles.
Toki's jaw dropped. He tried to move himself backwards into a sitting position, but his fresh wound wept crimson and his shoulder muscles gave way. She moved towards him again. Instinct rolled him onto his front and forced him to his feet, narrowly avoiding her attack.
"Emily, Stops!" he rasped and stumbled a few steps backwards, "Is me. Is Toki." His shirt, wet with blood, stuck to his torso and pulled with each grating breath. Emily bared her teeth and emitted a low growl. She grasped the blood slicked bottle neck with both hands and lunged toward his chest.
-0-0-0-
The festival grounds came into view under the Dethkopter.
"Sire!" came a call from the bridge, "We have a lock on Rabbit! Repeat. Lock on Rabbit!"
"Secure the target and position for aerial evac." Charles said to the hood next to him. He turned to the suppression squad who twitched eagerly at the edge of the opening. "Show our enemies no mercy! Eliminate them!" Charles lifted his hand "Beta squad! Deploy!" he brought his hand down sharply and Skwisgaar watched the next two rows of hoods jump backwards over the lip of the cargo bay.
Skwisgaar took a calming breath; They had found Toki, everything would be OK. He was going to give that little dildo a mouthful. If Toki hadn't run off in the first place, then Charles wouldn't be wasting time saving his arse now when he was supposed to be negotiating a new deadline with the label. Typical, selfish, childish Toki. Skwisgaar left the car and strode over to Charles to take his place in the welcoming/scolding party. As he moved forward he gradually became aware of the situation on the ground. People were stampeding like scared wildebeest, shiny puddles of blood dotted the asphalt, terrified screams wafted through the night air. He stopped a few feet from the edge of the opening, eyes wide. His stomach dropped. This wasn't Danzig; this was much, much worse.
Charles scowled at the disobedient guitarist staring intensely at the chaos below, "Skwisgaar! What did I-"
-0-0-0-
The Slaughter Street Duncan Hills Coffee shop exploded. Roof tiles were catapulted skyward, the walls blew out like paper, limbs and viscera sailed from the windows to smear along the pavement. The shipping container with Thunderhorse locked inside slid sideways into the stage, sending amplifiers tumbling and destroying the lighting rig.
Emily and Toki were lifted from their feet and thrown with the direction of the blast wave. Toki hit the road on his back. The force ripped his wound wider and a combination of gravity and a roaring wail pushed all the air from his chest. Each subsequent breath was thick with soot and clawed their way down as he forced one after the other into his bruised lungs. He tried to reorient himself. Hot air rolled over him and all he could hear was a high-pitched whine. He opened his eyes a little but the dust cloud quickly forced them shut. He managed to see the vague outline of Emily beside him, face down. She hadn't meant to attack him. No. She must have mistaken him for one of these Zombies. She was defending herself, it wasn't her fault.
The Kopter struggled to hold its aerial position as the shock wave ripped through the night air. Charles had to shield his face from the dust; Skwisgaar covered his hears and scrunched his eyes tight. When the worst had passed, Skwisgaar opened his eyes to see the coffee shop in flames. The orange fire light illuminated the festival grounds and through the smoke and dust Skwisgaar could just make out the familiar brown haired figure directly below them. "Toki!" Skwisgaar's body set into motion without thought. He ran to the closest ladder, kicked off the safety, laced himself between the bars and dove off the edge.
Toki forced his eyes open; Emily lay next to him, silently still. He stretched out his hand and flicked her dirty hair off her face. He pressed his fingers gently to her colourless cheek as the dust and debris from the explosion fell gently around them like the snow in Chernobyl; tragic yet beautiful. His insides felt cold and he rolled onto his back in exhaustion. The gash across his shoulders throbbed and stung from contact with the road but even pain offered no warmth. Toki allowed his eyelids to fall again as the air pushed down hard all around them and blew the dust away.
The ladder reel clanked and spun with Skwisgaar's decent as the Kopter positioned itself directly above Toki. Each passing moment felt like a decade to Skwisgaar as the distance between the guitarists closed. 20 meters away, 18 meters, 15 meters. The military hoods hurried to reposition the spotlights and roving disks of white melded together over their young lord below. Skwisgaar willed himself downward creating a mental magnet connecting Toki to him and drawing him nearer. 12 meters, 10 meters.
Emily's ruby coloured hand twitched in the broken shards of glass. Her eyelids flickered open and the new toxic glow behind them turned towards her victim. She pushed herself up, the scaping of the glass shard in her hand lost to Toki's ringing eardrums. She shuffled on her knees to kneel next to her lover. Toki stirred when she steadied herself on his torso, leaving a red, sticky hand pint on his shirt. He looked up into her stony face, her grungy black hair whipped manically about as the air pushed down harder from above. Emily clutched the make-shift blade and it glinted in the great white light from above. Her own fresh blood oozed between her fingers as she wrapped both hands around the shard of glass and held it above Toki's chest.
Charles's panic-stricken face watched from above. This was what he had been warned about, this was what they had been preparing to fight against. "Take the shot!" He commanded his sniper.
"Negative. Lord Skwigelf-" The hood protested.
"Take the shot!" Charles bellowed desperately.
Skwisgaar stretched out his hand towards Toki. 6 meters, 5 meters. As he drew nearer he could see the glinting glass in Emily's hand. A fury like none he had ever experienced swelled inside Skwisgaar. He had never had the urge to hurt a woman, but if she dared to hurt Toki he would rip her chest open and eat her fucking heart!
Charles wrenched the rifle from the hands of the hood next to him. He knelt on the lip of the cargo bay and clicked back the bolt. He held Emily in his crosshair; That poor girl, the Revengencers's curse could not be undone.
Toki Looked up into Emily's face and felt a hurried plea he could not hear rattle past his lips. She brought the shard down.
Charles contracted his index finger and a bullet whistled an inch past Skwisgaar's ear.
Toki watched as a seemingly invisible force struck her chest and pushed her backwards. She fell next to him, spluttering, trying to get back up, trying to finish her mission. Her grip slackened and the glass shard fell from her hand. She lay motionless as a wet stain spread slowly from above her left breast and cascaded down onto the asphalt. Toki rolled onto his side and watched the light in her eyes fade from arsenic green to jade to lime then dissipate completely. His insides churned, his wound pulsed. Hot air scraped his throat raw as he pushed a scream he could not hear from his lungs.
Toki fell lifelessly onto his back again and stared up into the piercing white light. The feeling of cold consumed him. This was it. This is how he would die. This was the harsh light of heaven shining down on him. He even thought he could see, no, he could see… an Angel. The silhouette of a magnificent, winged angel in the white light of heaven. The air beat so hard from his wings that the surrounding area was flattened. The high pitch song of the angelic choir rang all around him. Toki's vision darkened as the being moved closer, hand outstretched, ready to guide him to the life after this one. Would his sins be forgiven? Had he brought enough happiness to the world to avoid the fiery pits of Hell after all? Would Emily be waiting there for him? Serenity washed over Toki and he instinctively lifted his hand to meet the divine soldier's.
Skwisgaar hit the ground. He grasped Toki's hand in his and pull him up. He glanced down at the corpse bleeding out next to his boots and resisted to urge to kick her. Skwisgaar had to use all his strength to haul the Norwegian's limp body upward. He then pinned Toki between himself and the ladder, threading his arms through the rungs under Toki's arms to lock him into place. He held him tightly as their movement reversed and they started moving skywards.
Toki opened his eyes for a brief moment to see the ground moving away from him; his assent to Heaven had begun. He saw the tips of golden hair flicker in front of his face and felt a thin, warm chest pressed hard into his. Toki's insides writhed once more and a warmth spewed up from his stomach and down Skwisgaar's right side. Skwisgaar grumbled but told his pride to ignore it. It wasn't the first time he had been vomited on and he bet it wouldn't be the last. The two guitarists reached the Kopter's opening and were hoisted up into the cargo bay. Skwisgaar touched the thick, slimy vomit in his hair. As he pulled his fingers away in disgust he saw the slick, red sheen covering them. Blood. Skwisgaar looked at his red hand then down at the unconscious Toki. A crimson stripe ran from his blue lips and down his snowy coloured chin.
"MEDIC!" Charles screeched; The medical hoods were already rushing towards them with a stretcher. They quickly inspected their young lord and gasped at the cut across his back. A nurse immediately cut his wet shirt away and tossed it to her left. His torso was ghostly pale with an icy blue tinge running under the surface. Skwisgaar didn't breathe as the medical team pressed down on the wound, pierced Toki with needles filled with incomprehensible names and clamped the wound shut.
"The blast wave; It's caused an internal haemorrhage." The head medical hood said as he inspected Toki's mouth. A nurse appeared with a blood pack and slipped the needle into Toki's arm. Four hoods lifted him onto the stretcher and whisked their young lord away.
Skwisgaar's body demanded air and forced him to take several sharp inward breaths that rattled his ribs. Charles removed his glasses and rested both palms on his eyes to steady himself. He looked at his blank- faced guitarist. "Skwisgaar," He stepped in front of Dethklok's lead guitarist and grabbed him by both shoulders, pushing his thumbs hard into Skwisgaar's flesh. "Don't you ever do something so reckless again." His manager's eyes shot hot, fiery anger at Skwisgaar and the guitarist could do nothing more than apologetically nod. Charles released him, straightened his glasses and strode with purpose towards the bridge.
Skwisgaar searched for his cigarettes and lit one with his trembling hands. The blood-puke drenching half his body turned cold and he shivered. The image of Toki's bloodless skin entangled his every thought. His knees gave way and he slowly crumpled to the floor. His hand landed on a cold, wet piece of Toki's T Shirt. His heart felt like it would push straight through his lungs and out his back as he wrapped the bloodied shirt around his faded left-palm scar. His decision less than an hour ago to fire Toki seemed so petty, so juvenile, and above all, so incredibly stupid. "FUCK!" The second flow of tears for the night began to roll down his cheeks as he imagined a world without Toki in it. His head fell towards his knees and the drops patted softly onto the iron-sheet flooring. If he had just paid a little more attention to him he wouldn't have left Mordhaus and none of this would have happened. Toki could have died tonight, he still might, and it was all Skwisgaar's fault. "FUUUUUUCK!" He scrunched his fist around the shirt piece and held it to his forehead. For the first time in a long time, he felt ashamed. He lifted his damp face when the chains pulled taught and wound the gangplank up. He drew back on his cigarette and watched the twinkling city lights shrink into the horizon until the hatch banged shut.
"Ja… Nej… Jag vet inte." - Swedish, "Yes... No... I don't know."