"Who's in th' mood for ginger?"
Pickles was lifted up and thrown down across a cold rock.
"I'm full up on Mexican," a male voice announced, belching.
"Tourists," a second male stated.
"I could eat," said a third.
"Me, too," agreed a fourth.
Pickles whimpered. Shapes appeared out of the darkness. Vaguely humanoid, but horns and tails and hooves sprouted from them.
"D-Don't come any closer!" The drummer yelped. "I – I – I just gotta say th' Lord's Prayer and you guys have t' disappear!"
"Oh yes?" One of the horned men stated. "How does that go, then?"
Pickles opened his mouth to recite the bit of religious doggerel, then closed it.
"Fuck, Toki would know this," he whimpered.
"I call dibs on his tongue!" one of the smaller shapes cried.
"No callin' dibs! Ye get to it first and it's yours!" another voice ordered.
"'ere; wait. That's Pickles th' Drummer!" The tongue-desiring voice said. "We cannea eat him!"
"Dat's right, dat's right!" Pickles cried, scooting closer to the shape with the taste for tongue. "You guys want money? I could make you rich!"
Closer to, Pickles could see the shape was a young man. He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. His eyes had gone flat black and his mouth was full of jagged teeth. A pair of horns crowned his head. The horns were wide but not very long. Pickles realized it was because they were still growing in; his savior was just a kid. Even with the horns and teeth, he was still recognizable.
"Hey, yer . . uh . . . y-yer Aiden Aughisky from th' Bograts, ain't ya?"
"He knows who we are! Now we have t' eat him!" Another man creature said. Pickles recognized him as Padraig Aughisky; violinist for the Bograts.
"No, we don't!" Aiden protested. "He's high so much no one would believe him anyway!"
"Dat's right!" Pickles agreed, scooting closer to Aiden. "Even Nat'an was tellin' me I was high when I saw you guys earlier!"
"'Earlier'?" Padraig turned a questioning look to the woman who had dragged Pickles in. "Why did you bring him here, Nessie?"
"He's Aware," she said simply. "I thought we could make a later dinner of him, but he might be more useful t' us alive."
"He's Pickles th' Drummer? He's shorter in real life," Caderyn stated.
"Come on, let's eat him anyway!" Oengus yelled, snagging the drummer's ankle with a tentacle.
"No!" Aiden cried, grabbing Pickles by the arm. "You can't have Dethklok wi'out Pickles!"
"Dat's right! I'm an integral part of the ba-and!" he wailed.
Aiden hauled back on Pickles, but his older brother easily dragged him forward.
"Damn an' blast, Aiden, yer're gonna develop an' unhealthy relationship wit' food jest like Phooka!"
"You can't eat Pickles!" Aiden repeated.
The young kelpie retained his grip on the drummer, but his own tentacles snaked out from under his shirt and lashed around few nearby trees.
"Aiden . . . listen t' yer brother," Padraig sighed. "Look at th' mess Phooka's in now."
"Don't listen t' Oengus!" Nessie snapped. "OR Padraig! This is Pickles th' Drummer an' he's more valuable alive!"
The female kelpie appeared alongside her little brother and added her own weight and tentacles to the tug of war.
"Yeah! Yeah!" Pickles wheezed, barely able to shout between the three creatures trying to pull him apart. "I kin – kin give you guys - *pant* anyt'ing!"
"We're getting' loads of energy from our audiences," Caderyn pointed out, watching the scuffle dispassionately. "An' money's no' really our final object. What could ye give us?"
"Are you lot stupid?" Nessie grunted. "We get energy an' food from crowds a' a couple hundred! What d'ye think we'd get if we opened fer Dethklok?"
Oengus's tentacle abruptly let go, sending Aiden, Nessie, and Pickles into a heap.
On a desolate beach, two men sat on a rock outcropping and watched the waves roll in. The huge tentacle serpent was back into his human form; lead singer for the Bograts, Phooka Aughisky. His long black hair tumbled down his back in a mass of curls. He wore jeans and a dark green shirt that hugged his muscular form pleasantly. All in all, Phooka qualified as a dish.
He lifted his head slightly and looked over to Cupid, a.k.a. Matthias Conway. He looked so different now than when he was a mere mortal by the name of Matthias Conway. True, he was still slight and blond, but he'd lost a great deal of the androgyny he'd had as a mortal. Before his resurrection, Matty could pass for an athletic woman or a very feminine man; now he was clearly male, even with his very pretty features.
He'd also lost a great deal of his insecurity. If Phooka had disappeared for a while, Matty would have thrown himself at the kelpie's feet and begged for forgiveness. He wouldn't have been seething with cold rage like he was now.
"Um . . . . I'm . . . uh . . . I'm sorry, luv," Phooka stated.
"You sure are," Matthias agreed coldly.
Phooka hung his head.
"I deserv'd that," he admitted. "You . . . you didn't. You never did anything to deserve . . . to deserve me walkin' out on you."
"Then why did you do it?" Matthias asked plaintively.
"Because . . . . I – I wasn't through grievin' for yeh," Phooka said. "You had died and I . . . I was grievin' for my love."
"But I came back!" Matty protested. "I wasn't dead anymore!"
"You did," Phooka said. "But – yeh weren't th' same. Oh, I know you were still the same on th' inside, but . . . Your face, your scent, even your smile were all different. I was still grieving for my husband. Maybe some would argue tha' you came back as a better version, but . . . I missed my silly li'l boy. Some things you still did the same, but it only reminded me of things that were gone forever. It's as if . . ." the kelpie paused to sigh roughly, dragging his fingers through his hair.
"I'm a piece a' shite," he stated suddenly. "I thought I was just mourning my lost love. I thought that's what it was. I even went back t' Miami last year t' find ye again, but you were already gone. And I saw Toki again today. . . . . fuck me, annsachd, I felt that spark again."
Phooka hung his head.
"Apparently, I'm just a piece a' shite who has a thing for li'l mortal boys."
"Uh . . . I . . . wouldn't worry about that too much," Matthias said uneasily. "There . . . um . . there might have been a scuffle over a love arrow in the crowd then."
Phooka straightened slightly.
"What?"
"You came back for me?"
"Of course I did. What d'ye mean 'a scuffle o'er a love arrow'?"
"I thought . . . I mean; I guess it was easy for me; just a void of cold and then I was back better than ever. I didn't think about what it did to you. Am I really that different?"
"Yes. All of it's for the better, but . . . I still miss me whiny, ignorant li'l boy."
"'Whiny'? 'Ignorant'?" Matthias echoed.
"Ye did attend th' Florida Public School System," Phooka pointed out.
"Wuh – okay, I'll give you that one," Matthias conceded.
"I fell in love wit' ye when ye were just a brief flash a' light . . . a candle . . . in a dark world. I wished it could last forever an' then . . . then yeh came back as a followin' star, bold an' bright an' everlastin'. I got my wish t' have yeh forever but part of why I loved that candle was th' fragility of it. I felt like ye didn't need me as much anymore. I went t' see me brothers t' try t' get me head on straight. I missed yeh more, but th' pain was clear an' . . . an' . . . . healin'. I wasn't done greivin' my candle so that I could follow my star."
"Phooka . . ." Matthias breathed, tears stinging his eyes.
"But ye were gone when I came back. I thought I'd lost ye for good. I deserv'd it for takin'off on ye like tha'."
"Phooka, you just had to tell me!" Matthias said. "I still love you, you flaky-ass fairy!"
"Ye do?"
"Of course I do!" Matthias threw his arms around the Irishman and squeezed him tightly. "Idiot! Jerk! Why didn't you tell me how you felt? Did you think I wouldn't understand?"
"I didn't understand it at first . . . ." Phooka said, squeezing his lover back. "I thought 'Til death we do part' maybe that was how it worked. Death we did part. I was so screwed up in th' head over it. I can come back?"
"Just you try to leave," Matty said.
Cupid and kelpie twined hard against each other for a long moment. They pulled back briefly, then kissed under the moonlight.
William Murderface was not enjoying himself. He'd passed out and woke up on the floor, then when he left his room to go find the others the power was out in the hallway.
At least, that's why he assumed it had turned into a long tunnel with a bright light at the end.
It wasn't his job to worry about keeping the lights on, so he'd gone away from the darkened hallway and found the rest of the band sans Toki drinking around a hot tub. Nathan ignored him when he tried to talk, but Nathan did that sometimes. Murderface never had a lot to say to Skwisgaar at the best of times and certainly not when the Swede was in the 'forget English entirely' stage of drunk. Charles came along a few minutes later and subjected him to the silent treatment as well, but he was probably busy with the news that Toki was a little queer. Like anybody should have been surprised by that.
Pickles still talked to him, though, so that was good.
Murderface decided he was still really drunk, though, because when he'd tried to grab a beer, there was just a moment of confusion and there he was with no beer in his hand while the glass had been picked up by someone else.
After the monster attack Pickles had been dragged off by that . . . thing that looked like a chick and Murderface had run back to the hot tub – the whole way, too, absolutely flat out and he hadn't gotten tired, which was odd – and spilled the whole story of the drummer's kidnapping to Charles.
Who fuckin' ignored him.
That wasn't like the robot at all; even if he was mad, he still listened. Murderface tried howling the story to Nathan, Toki, and even Skwisgaar, but they all looked straight through him.
Frustration starting to give way to uncertainty, Dethklok's bassist cursed his bandmates and stomped back up to his room. He was mildly pleased to see they had fixed the lights in the hallway. William grabbed the door handle to storm into the room and another odd moment of confusion swept over him. He didn't remember the feel of the doorknob in his hand or opening the door or seeing the slash of light from the hall across the dark room, but suddenly he was on the other side of the door, so all that other stuff must have happened.
Right?
He was really – that shouldn't – he must be wasted. He'd be more clear-headed in the morning. Yeah . . . yeah, he just needed some sleep. That was it.
Murderface fumbled forward in the dark room. Gradually, he picked out the shape of the bed and flopped down onto it.
William Murderface's eyes snapped open. He knew – knew – he had fallen face-down on the bed and now he was lying on his side spooning with a very naked chick. And cold! Fuck! He was fucking freezing all of a sudden! William shivered hard and hugged the naked chick like she was a super-sized hot water bottle. She made a sleepy little feminine noise and scooted back tighter against him. They had fucked; he could feel the faint stickiness on his dick that indicated he'd rode this particular skank hard and apparently bareback as well. The room was heavy with the scent of sex – why didn't he notice that before? In fact, why couldn't he remember fucking her? He didn't even remember taking his clothes off! He didn't remember bringing a chick back to the room!
Some automatic thought process said he should kick the skank out now that he was done with her but Murderface really, really didn't want to be alone right now. The bass player hugged his mystery bedmate a little tighter.
"Toki wants to goes home now!" Toki sobbed. "Papa, makes it so we cans goes home!"
"H-hang on, Toki," Charles said, rubbing the young Norwegian's shoulder. "We need to –to find everyone. I feel dizzy. Does anyone else feel dizzy?"
"You're drunk," Nathan said dully. "So what was he if he wasn't an angel?"
"I'm not drunk; I have been drinking," Charles corrected, swaying slightly. "We need to – we need to get everyone back . . . . back together. Pickles . . . . and . . . and . . . and . . . uh . . . Willam! Yes; that's who we need."
"You're fucking drunk," Nathan stated.
Skwisgaar mumbled something in Swedish.
"Skwisgaar wants to lays down now," Toki reported through his tears.
"Yes – fine. Have the Gears stand watch while you sleep. Conway!"
"He gotted eated by der Kracken," Toki reminded his manager.
"Oh. Oh right," Charles slurred. "He . . . uh . . . he might be a few days, then."
"What was he?" Nathan blurted, jumping on the subject as it sailed past.
"I'm . . . I'm . . . calling William," Charles said, dialing the phone with difficultly. This was particularly sad as Murderface was on speed dial. "I . . . ah . . . I think . . . . I think he's in his room."
William stared at the ringing phone on the nightstand apprehensively. Could he actually pick it up or would the world do that weird skip thing again? Did he even want to talk to anyone right now? The decision was made for him as the chick in his bed reached across the gap and picked up the ringing phone.
Before he could say 'That'sh my phone, bitch!', she showed him the lit-up screen.
"This is who's callin' ya," she said, pointing out Charles' name. "If'n they ain't on your list it'll just show the number. Ya put your finger here an' slide it across t' answer it."
The woman put deed to word, then handed the phone to Murderface. Ooooh-kay . . . crazy chick didn't think he knew how to use a phone.
"Hello?"
"William! I . . . this . . . ah . . . this is . . . . uh . . . ."
"Charlesh?" Murderface offered.
"Yes. Right. Mmm . . . well done. Where are you?"
"I'm . . . I'm in my hotel room," the bass player offered. "With a chick. Are you drunk?"
"I have been drinking," Charles corrected. "I'm just . . . doing a head check. I hadn't seen you since dinner."
"I wash just down there!" Murderface protested. "Not ten fuckin' minutesh ago!"
"I'm fairly certain that you're wrong," the manager stated calmly.
"You're fuckin' drunk!"
The skank in his bed laid her cheek against William's chest with a sigh and seemed to drift off to sleep. She was awfully affectionate for one of his groupies. It was kind of nice to have someone to hug when he was on the verge of freaking out. He'd kick her out in the morning.
"Have you seen Pickles?" Charles asked.
Murderface opened his mouth to blurt out the story of Pickles and the lady-monster, but stopped. Something was weird again. It wasn't world-skip weird but he had been trying to identify the feeling on his right hand for a minute or so. He looked down to see that he was running his hand through his groupie's hair, stroking her cheek, and even playing with her earlobe. Actually, he wasn't doing any of it. His right hand seemed to be doing everything of it's own volition.
As weird feelings went, it was up there.
"Oh, never mind. Here . . . ah . . . here comes Pickles. I'll . . . ah . . . let you get back to it. Good night," Charles hung up the phone.
"'Night," William growled automatically.
Murderface continued to stare at his suddenly-independent appendage as it fondled the skank's earlobe. He could feel everything like he was touching it, but he couldn't get it to stop and lady earlobes were amazingly soft.
Then – he really didn't know how to properly describe what happened next because words were not his thing. His right hand . . . 'saw' him staring at it and pointed a warning finger at Murderface's nose. The hand pointed at the skank sleeping on his chest, then pointed firmly downwards in a 'right here!' motion.
"I musht be sho fuckin' washted," William observed. "Jusht . . . jusht need to shleep it off."
Pickles was walking back to the gathering around the hot tub, a person on either side of him. Charles didn't recognize Aiden and Nessie Aughisky. In his current state he might not have recognized them even if he had caught the Bograts' concert. He only saw Pickles walking stiffly towards them with a shapely young lady on one arm and a teenaged boy on the other.
The boy struck him as a little odd, but with the way this night was shaping up . . .
"What's all the fuss about?"
Charles looked away from Pickles and his entourage to see the triplets joining the group, looking slightly puzzled. Damn, he had forgotten about them! They were snuggling in front of the TV when the report came on about Toki's sexuality and he'd run out – damn, he knew this was a boys' trip!
Faith raised an eyebrow.
"Charles, are you drunk?"
"I am not drunk!" The manager cried. "I've been drinking! There's a difference!"
"And Toki always has to hold you up, right?" Mercy offered.
Charles looked over at his rhythm guitarist. They had started out with Toki leaning against his shoulder, crying. At some point this had switched to Toki with Charles' arm over his shoulders and the younger man giving most of the support.
"I . . . uh . . . . um . . . . my liver hurts," the manager announced.
Nathan couldn't contain the snicker that burst past his lips.
"Okay, then Charles. How about we all go back to the room and lie down and have a little visit from the medical Gears to make sure you aren't dying of alcohol poisoning?" Faith gestured to some of the nearby hoods to get things started.
"No! No, I . . . I . . . have to . . . no . . . . . . . Pickles! Have to check on Pickles first."
"Pickles is fine!" Hope interjected. "See; he's right here! Aren't you fine, Pickles?"
"Y-Yes," Pickles squeaked. "Fine."
The drummer's smile was more like a forced death rictus. There was panic in his eyes and his shoulders were stiff.
"Oh. Um. Good. Huuuuuhhhh . . . maybe I had better lie down . . ." Charles mumbled.
"Mr. Offdensen! Can I bend yer ear before ye go t' sleep?" Nessie blurted, lunging forward.
A business card appeared in her hand as if by magic.
"Nessie Aughisky, manageress for th' Bograts. I've been discussin' things wit' Pickles here and he seems t' think—"
Nessie cut off sharply as Charles held up a 'just a minute' finger, then leaned over and puked. Hope sighed.
"That's the second time this trip I've had my feet thrown up on."
Charles straightened.
"All right; continue."
"I think you've done enough business for tonight, Big Daddy," Mercy said trying to steer Toki and Charles away from Nessie.
"'Big Daddy?' Oh my fucking God," Nathan chortled. "Wrong."
"It won't take but a second!" Nessie protested.
"'Big Daddy'? I . . . I . . . oh . . . shomebody needs some attention, don't they?" Charles slurred in what he imagined was a sexy way.
Nathan had both hands pressed over his face while his shoulders shook with suppressed mirth. Mercy opened her mouth to say she didn't think Charles was capable of standing upright by himself, realized saying this would be a total waste of effort and simply nodded.
"Um . . yes, that's right, darling; sure. Let's get upstairs, shall we?"
"Eager little minx, ishn't she?" Charles slurred in a stage whisper to Toki. "Looks so prim an' proper but get her shtarted and she fucks like a bunny."
Nathan gave up any semblance of self control and howled with laughter. Toki didn't look pleased to be on the receiving end of this information. Mercy turned the same color as her dress.
"CHARLES!"
"Gotta . . . gotta go; she wants me," the manager told Toki.
To Pickles' surprise, he heard Aiden humming under his breath.
"Yer're promising th' ladies a night of lovin' bliss
But truth be told, yer're far too drunk
T' stand up straight 'n' piss!
So give it up, yeh fuckin' wino cunt, ye'll not get laid.
An' th' sooner you are out th' door, th' quicker we'll be paid!"
In spite of the mortal terror he was feeling, the drummer snorted. Nessie heard this foul-mouthed byplay and made one last, desperate lunge for her goal.
"Any chance I could join th' party, luv?"
Charles stopped and looked around at the Irish woman.
"Egg-excushe me?"
"Well, three ladies at yer beck an' call might be nice, but four would be even better," the female kelpie purred.
Charles blinked owlishly at the manageress. Mercy was turning red again, but this time it looked like anger. Even Hope's mouth was hanging open in shock. Faith was just returning with the medical Gears.
"Ah. Miss . . . Miss Augustine, was it?"
"'Aughisky'," Nessie corrected under her breath.
"That'sh what I shaid. And if I took up the offer of every desperate, painted woman who wanted to whore hershelf for power, my harem would make King Solomon blush with shame. We are a closhed quad, thank you. Good night."
Charles attempted to stride off gracefully, tripped over a step and would have hit the pavement face first if Mercy and Hope hadn't lunged in from the side and cushioned his fall. A few Gears lifted the limp CFO and started carrying him upstairs. The triplets followed behind, Mercy still fuming over Charles' vulgar description of her sexual appetite.
Toki and Nathan followed them, Nathan still laughing hysterically over Charles' vulgar description of Mercy's sexual appetite.
Nessie turned back around to face Aiden and Pickles, her face a mask of white-hot rage.
Aiden snorted and burst out laughing at his big sister.
"He saw you comin' a mile away, didn't 'e?" he howled.
"Shut up, Aiden!" Nessie roared. Her voice had deeper inflections and echoes than it should have. Pickles could swear he saw shapes writhing under her dress.
"Ooooooh, Gahd, I'm gonna die . . . . " he whimpered.
"Keep an eye on th' meal ticket," Nessie ordered, stalking off into the night.
"Yeh gonna go blow some bloke fer internet access?" the younger kelpie inquired cheerfully.
Nessie paused in mid stalk, flexed her neck to the side and kept going. Aiden snickered as if he hadn't just nearly driven his sister into a homicidal rage and turned to Pickles.
"Ah well. I guess we're bunkin' up tonight!"