NOTE SHIT!: Awright. Chapter three. This is fun times, guys. Fun times. I'm really enjoying writing this. The teeny part with the Tribunal probably sucks donkey balls, but I had to shove them in there somewhere. So yeah. Also, this one's a bit short; next one'll be longer. As always, I shall plead with you (though it shall be ignored, verily): Tell me how I did! Okay, I'll stop talking and let you read now!
When the band left the doctor's office, they were intercepted by Charles. "What happened in there? I heard screaming…" he said, trailing off when he noticed that everyone was covered in blood. He stared, raised an eyebrow expectantly, and waited for an explanation.
"Dethklok is dead," Senator Stampingston said, a picture of the band appearing on the screen. "So far, the information has been suppressed from the media. If this were to get out, there would be complete chaos. We didn't have enough notice to prepare anything for the media, so... Well, here to tell us more is our… uh… zombie "expert", Mr. James Castle."
The Tribunal's eyes all focused on a rather youngish nerdy-looking man in a disheveled suit; he looked uncomfortable. "Um, it's Jimmy," he said. "Uh, yes, it seems that the members have been bitten by a zombie. This means that they're obviously zombies themselves now. And being zombies, they'll be eating as many people as they can." He shrugged. "And the world's gonna end. That's what happens when there's zombies."
Back at Mordhaus, Dethklok was hanging out in the living room as usual. However, none of them wanted to be there. They were all extremely hungry, having had nothing to eat after the doctor. The air seemed a bit tense.
Toki was trying to play DDR, but the combination of death and extreme hunger really screwed up his coordination and he kept messing up. "I hates this!" he yelled after falling down for the third time. "Why can'ts we go get foods? I'm starvings!" He stuck his tongue out at the game machine. "Stupids Dance Dance Revsolutions."
"Charles said we can't eat anyone yet," Pickles said, lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Said he wants to see if the science dudes can make us some fake food." He sighed. "So we can't."
"But I don't wants fakes foods!" Toki said, turning around to look at the others, eyes wide with hunger and anger. "I wants real foods! Peoples! I wants bloods everywhere and the foods to be warm and movings and screamings and…" he said, then trailed off. "Uh… I'm confuseds. But I'm still hungrys."
"Tokis, you ams dildos. We can'ts eats peoples," Skwisgaar said with his back towards everyone, messing with his guitar. He narrowed his eyes at his guitar. "I ams a gods, I shouldn'ts evens be deads…" he muttered.
"Fucks you, you liked it!" Toki said, glaring at Skwisgaar. "You were fightings with Nathans and Murderface when you were eatings that guy! You were!"
"Would you all jusht shut up? I'm trying to conshentrate!" Murderface yelled. He stood playing Wheelchair Bound, trying as hard as he could not to think about the hunger, which was really distracting. It was making him even more irritable than usual. Even playing his favorite game wasn't helping any.
Nathan sat in the hot tub, staring at nothing, his mind going back over it all; it seemed like so much had happened in a really short time. They had explained everything to Charles, who seemed oddly unfazed by their story. He'd barely even flinched when he saw the amount of blood that covered everyone. When they'd gotten back, he told them they had to stay in the living room, and left for his office, mumbling something about having to write up another waiver.
Nathan sighed. Instead of making the hunger stop, eating the doctor seemed to have awoken some kind of instinct and just made it worse. It didn't help that Mordhaus was full of people; the human smell wafting through the air was incredibly distracting.
Pickles had been trying to get drunk, but so far he wasn't having any luck. He tossed his third empty bottle at the wall half-heartedly, so it bounced off and hit the floor. "Dude, what the fuck is this? Why can't I get drunk?" He groaned and sat up, not even bothering to get another drink.
"Maybe deads peoples can't gets drunk?" Toki offered with a shrug, seemingly recovered from his little outburst earlier. He turned back towards the screen of the DDR machine and decided to try a lower difficulty in hopes that he'd be able to handle it. The slower setting worked for him, and he continued playing.
"I'm fucking hungry!" Nathan yelled, finally, startling everyone. In trying not to notice their hunger, they'd sunk into a sort of a stupor, focusing only on what they were doing. Nathan had snapped them out of it. "They better hurry up with our food."
Charles sat in his office, sighing. He had just finished making a flurry of phone calls, trying to make everything work. What the hell were you supposed to do when the band you managed became flesh-eating zombies, anyway? They'd never covered that in business school.
He knew the news was going to get leaked to the public somehow, which is why he was so frantic to get everything in order. New waivers that made sure to include a clause about getting eaten by the band. Development of synthetic human flesh that would serve as a substitute for the real thing and keep them from eating everyone. Making sure to sweep the death of the doctor under the rug. The usual.
He wasn't even sure if they could still play the same. After all, in movies at least (Charles didn't exactly have much experience with real zombies, of course), zombies weren't exactly the most dexterous things. He hadn't noticed too much of a difference in how the band moved, although they did seem to stumble around a bit more.
If they had suffered any kind of hits to their playing… well, that could prove disastrous for everyone involved. They had to be the best. It was what they did. If Dethklok had slipped up in any way… well, it would upset everything they'd built up. And that would be a problem. He'd have to check on them later on that front.
He sighed and stared at the phone, willing it to ring with good news about the research. Could they even develop such a thing on such short notice? He rested his head in his hands. This was a disaster. All because apparently some neglectful Klokateers had let some zombie backstage.
What a day.
