Hey, just an idea I had on the way home from a job interview thingy... meeh. Just read. Review!!
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They were flying over the U.S. border when Nathan next awoke. He grabbed a can of beer on his bedside table and chugged it and climbed to his feet, intending to go into the main room and hang with the rest of the band if they were there.
He saw that Murderface hadn't moevd on bit since he had left; he was asleep and snoring loudly.
In a corner, Toki and Flame were talking animatedly in what he now assumed was Norwegian. It made him feel a little left out, to tell the truth.
"Oh, hi Nat'ans. We was just talking abouts Dethklok and how it gots started," said Toki.
"Oh. Cool," he grunted. He had started Dethklok shortly after he had dropped out of high school. He had been 19. At the moment he was 26. Original members had included himself and Murderface and Pickles. They'd gotten Skwisgaar and Toki as replacements for the jerks who had been in before and they didn't get a dime for what songs they had written.
The two lapsed back into their rapid Norwegian. Toki looked cheerful as ever and Flame simply looked mildly interested.
He set himself down on a couch and took out his laptop again. He would be glad when the Hatredcopter landed again and they could all get nice and drunk.
"Landing," said the intercom about a half hour later.
"Finally," said Pickles, geting to his feet, a liquor bottle in hand as usual. "I was running out of liquor."
Toki and Flame stopped talking and she got to her feet and collected the only things she had brought with her. Her bag containing all her blades and the small suitcase.
She carried the duffel bag across her chest by the strap and lugged the suitcase under one arm against her hip. She was stronger than she looked.
She followed them off the Hatredcopter and got her first look at Mordhaus. Her eyes went wide and her face went white once again. Her jaw dropped and a grin spread over her face.
"Oh, WOW," was all she said.
"You like it?" asked Pickles.
"Wow... this place... is awesome... and so fucking metal," she said.
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Unbeknownst to the members of Dethklok, the Tribunal's field man was watching them.
Equipped with a pair of high powered binoculars, he was able to spy on them well away from the sniper towers that were part of the security.
His name was Brutus and he wore camo shirt and pants so he could blend with the tall grass.
So the girl was an expert swordman, his notes read. He was to spy on the band for a specific ammount of time and then report back to HQ. He would be paid then and only then, and generously so or he wouldn't be on this crazy stunt. He himself was an avid fan of Dethklok.
He packed up his tripod and camera (and his gun) and moved spots. They would be relocating to a different part of Mordhaus and he wanted a better vantage point for when they did.
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"This is your room from now on, got it? If ya need anything... just, umm...Uuhhhhhhh, yeah, this is your room, and that's that," said Nathan.
She stepped through the door and her mouth fell open. She couldn't help it.
It was entirely done in stone and there was a small desk, a bed in one corner and a plasma screen tv in the corner. The entire room was done in black. Metal.
"Thanks," she said without looking back. She didn't hear any footsteps leading to or going away from the door, she she set her things down on the bed and turned back. He was still standing there as if expecting her to say something.
Actually, he was just thinking. Not very hard, but thinking just the same.
"How old're you?" he finally asked.
"20 Why?" she replied.
He was six years older than her. She was legal enough for what he had in mind.
"You wanna come to the bar with us and drink?" he asked. He wasn't sure what made him invite her, but a bodyguard sounded like a good idea for a bar.
"Sure, but I don't drink much more than Tequila," she replied, not paying attention to him any more. She was unpacking her swords and hanging them on the walls with plastic hooks thrust into the mortar.
Nathan left her to her doings and wandered into the main room of Mordhaus, glad, in a way, to be back home. Pickles thought so too, because he was already refilling what looked like his fifth glass of whisky.
"You guys wanna go to the bar?" he asked.
"Yeah!"
"Sure!"
Just what I needed."
"Whatevers."
Nathan fished the keys to the murdercycle out of his pocket.
"Let's go."
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There were only four sidecars on the murdercycle. Where was Flame going to ride?
"Stick her behind you or sumthin', let's just go, man," said Pickles.
Nathan climbed onto the cycle and waited for the shift in weight that told him Flame had climbed on.
He kickstarted the engine, opened the throttle and gunned it, tearing of across the pavement. The bike's action must not have been familiar to Flame because he felt strong arms wrap around his midsection almost the moment the bike began to tilt. He felt her tits press up against his back as well, particularly when he took a sharp corner. God he needed that drink.
They arrived at the nearest bar and he kickstanded the bike and dismounted. He couldn't get to the counter fast enough, and said, "100 beers, exactly 100. Right now, 100 beers."
Flame ordered a Tequila, but that was all.
"Did Ofdensen tell ya we get paid weekly?" asked Pickles, downing the first drink that was served.
"Nope. This is actually pretty much the last of anymoney I had. Finding odd jobs is tough around here," she said, sipping her drink and handing the bartender what looked like a shitload of change and three ones.
"Tough break," said Murderface, downing a beer and he belched.
He wasn't sure when exactly he had achieved drunkenness, but it was hours before the band decided to leave. By which point they were all severely wasted.
"I'mmmm not drunk, you are," he slurred, pointing a finger at Flame when she persisted in shoving him away from the bike.
"Yeahsh, we's not drunk," agreed Skwisgaar.
"Tough. I'm driving, get in," she insisted, and she would not move from the driver's seat of the murdercycle. Not even when Nathan threatened to punch her.
"Your outfit sucks and you're an asshole, uhhhh, I'mmm having a hard time expressing myself," he said without thinking.
"So noted."
Nathan swung a leg over the motorcycle and put both hands on her hips to steady himself. In his line of vision, there seemed to be triple of everything. Her hips, however, felt solid enough to him and he focused on those so he didn't vomit. Maybe fresh air would wake him up a bit.
"Woo hooo, Charles Parker!" called Murderface, standing up in the sidecar.
"SIDDOWN!"
Nathan jumped involuntarily. Her voice had gone all growly and ... Dethklok-ish again.
Murderface sat and she opened the throttle. The bike began to speed away, back towards Mordhaus and after awhile, the vibration in the bike's seat made him very aware of what was down there and what it was for, as well as what was on the seat in front of him. She probably felt it but he was too drunk to care. A bed seemed like a good idea to him right then.
The cold air seemed to clea rhis head but only somewhat. The stresses of the tour were beginning to leave him, leaving behindonly a pleasant warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest and stomach. His head swam and right then he had the urge to kiss whoever was driving. Who was driving? He didn't think he was.
He put his head on their shoulder and smelled oranges and the smell seemed to bring something back, but he couldn't remember what. He pressed his mouth to the smoothe whit flesh of their neck and felt the bike swerve dangerously close to the siderails.
"Yaaah! Don't DO that! I'm driving!" he heard her yell. Oh god, had he just kissed the bodyguard???? THIS was gonna be tough to explain.
"Woooh ooo hoohoooo! Charles Parker, yeaaaah," Murderface was catcalling to any passing car that would listen.
When the bike finally stopped, he couldn't tell. To him, everything was still moving.
He leaned over the edge of the bike and threw up, mostly chunks of his last meal and viscuous stomach bile, no blood. That much was good, at least, althuogh he couldn't remember why, or even recall why there should be blood in it.
He felt strong arms grab his elbows and steer him towards three doorways. His legs gave out and he felt himself land on something warm and soft and curvy but he couldn't see who it was, exactly.
"Hey, c'mon, get up, you're crushing me, Nathan," said a woman's dusky voice. Why did that voice turn him on, why? He groped for whoever it was he was laying on, but she moved away from him, making the world go tipsy again.
He felt more strong arms grab him and then he blacked out.
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PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! Boy, Nathan was really drunk, hahaha. For the record, I never been drunk, but my dad has and I asked him and he said "100 beers? He wouldn't be thinking anything caus he'd be dead!"
thanks much to luma for reviewing! Joanna makes a guest appearance next chappie!