AN 2/09: Happy Singles Awarness Day! lol, a gift for the lonely. Uh... well, I'm close to being done with the updates, so yay! Hopefulyl I can squeeze in the next chapter by tomorrow, but I dunno... Sundays are weird for me, a lot of tension in the house, you know? Might hang out with some friends in the mean time. Dunno... but thanks so much for bearing with me!

Tracks of Choice: "Milk of Regret" by Otep

Chapter 22: Deth Search and Deth Cries Begin

Dethklok and Cancerous were transferred to a bigger hospital at the news of Cherry's intensive surgery which could not be performed in Yakov's, who was now deceased, private's hospital. Pickles, finally discharged six hours later along with Nathan, Toki, Skwisgaar and Lucy, paced back in forth in the waiting room at around four in the afternoon. Well, more like limped to and fro. Six hours and the female drummer was still under the knife. Runa was said to have gone through some mild surgery as well as Bloodyfist and Murderface. No one knew why the male bass player had to go under though… No luck in saving his face.

"Fuck… first Seth has a concussion and now we're goin' on seven hours since Cherry's been in ER." He said more to himself than anyone else. "Shit, what if she…? No! Stop thinking like that. She'll be ok…" he yanked on a few dreads, trying to distract his mind of the possibility of looking for funeral homes. "Sh-she's gotta be!" In his right hand he clutched a small black velvet box that would hopefully guarantee him a better future with the female drummer, but only if she would make it. Everyone had been told she had lost a lot of blood to the point she could almost die. Another ounce and Cherry would have been no more.

Nathan was not doing well himself. The part Amazonian man was sitting with a cup of coffee outside of the hallway, waiting for any signs of Ofdensen or Ivan, now the head of Dethklok Russia. With Yakov dead and Ivan knowing everything about the business of Yakov's and Dethklok, it was only right for him to take command. Dozens of Russian soldiers and klokateers, all armed to the teeth, patrolled the halls of the top floor, letting no one but approved doctors and nurses through.

Crozier came limping down the hall, a grim look on his face. As the elderly man spotted Explosion, he hobbled over and took a seat.

"Worried about Moira?" Crozier said, causing Nathan to grunt a response that he took as a 'yes'. "We all are. Right now Ofdensen and Ivan or doing a head count of their men, only a few of mine are alive. Afterwards we're going to plan a search party."

"Any clue of where she is?" Nathan said softly, very uncharacteristic of him. He moved his cup around, sloshing the now cold dark brown liquid inside.

Crozier sighed, "We haven't received an activated GPS signal from her ring just yet, so there is a chance she's been unconscious all this time." The man rubbed his sore leg, "I'm going to keep believing she's going to be alright. The media has already gotten wind of this and they're going to blow it out of proportion. I'm on my way to meet with them and hopefully keep them at bay for a while until Ofdensen is done. Want to join me?" Crozier's intention was to help relieve Nathan of the stress. The taller and buffer man was pale and tired, quite and emotionless. This could not have been the great Nathan Explosion.

Nathan shook his head, still a bit untrusting of the man beside him even if Moira was a bit fond of him. "Uh, no. Could cause a riot or something. Not in the mood." It sounded fun, but his heart wasn't in it to see the violence. Perhaps some other time.

The general shrugged, "Suit yourself."

--100 Miles from the Concert Site—

Moira groaned as she began to come out of her comatose state. Blinking once, she hissed as a single hanging light assault her sensitive eyes. Putting her hand over them was a greater effort than expected. Never had she felt so weak. The sound of a heart monitor caught her attention.

"What the hell… happened?" Her eyes finally adjusted to the offending light. Looking around, Moira found herself in a hospital room with a one-way mirror, the reflective side facing the room. Thinking she was safe and thus not bothering to find her ring in the pile of her bloody clothes on a stool, Moira relaxed, moving the flimsy linen sheet down and lifting her hospital gown up. Moira's eyebrows shot up to her hair line as she saw the thick gauze wrapped around her torso. Her left side began to throb a little, causing her to gasp in pain. Her right hand shot up to clutch it. "The hell?" She bit her lip, concentrating on blocking the pain. Once it subsided, completely out of breath, she looked around again. "It's like… I'm in Resident Evil or something. Freaky ass place." A chill went down her spine. "Where's every body?"

She sunk back further into the bed which was surprisingly soft, trying to collect her thoughts about the events that transpired before she got there. The crazy bitch in a black suit, Javier disarming her, he aimed a gun at Nathan, she jumped in front of him and got nailed a few times, then everything went blank. The last bit she could remember someone picking her up and throwing her over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the added pain causing her to knock out. Was it Nathan who did it? Probably, he was a brute after all.

The door clicked, slowly opening. Looking up, Moira half expected to see her doctor or one of her band mates come to speak with her. How long was she out cold? Hours? Days? Weeks? No clock was in the room either. She heard murmurs but couldn't quite place the voices. Both sounded vaguely familiar. As if from a far away dream. The female vocalist closed her eyes, listening to the hushed voices.

"I should have killed him." One of the voices said. Could it be Ivan? It was too light to be Nathan.

"No, that wasn't your mission. You should thank me you even got to see him up close! Did you know you almost killed her?" the other said rather angrily. This sparked her curiosity. What did the voice mean by that? The voices went down a notch in volume, making it practically impossible for her to decipher the words.

There was the sound of a frustrated sigh and then the door squeaked as it was open further. Heavy boots echoed in the room and the sound rustling clothes. A heavy but warm hand caressed her face gently, moving a strand of hair behind her ear.

"N… Nathan?" Moira said softly, opening her eyes again. They widen however as she gasped, sending another jolt of pain to course through her body. "Wuh… What? How? Andy!" Her eyes glazed over and just before she could sit up to hug him, he caught her around the neck and stuffed a rag in her face. Moira struggled a bit before finally taking a sniff of the rag and falling back asleep.

"Shh, darling. All will be better. You're a part of my plan to get to Dethklok. You're more valuable to me then the other girls." He chuckled darkly, ripping the wires that linked to the monitors off her body. The sound lines died, causing the monitor to squeal in warning. He picked her up bridal style and pivoted, accidently bumping into the stool. "Shit!" he kicked the clothes away, not noticing the ring roll away into a corner as the eyes began to blink faintly. The GPS was turned on, but the signal was weak.

--Runa's Room—

Runa gulped as she sat down on the examining table in her hospital gown after she came out surgery. She had been asked to see an OB/GYN. Looking around the white washed room, a sense of dread over came her. An elderly Russian doctor, her name was Dr. Krushnek, was in the room, absorbed in her work. The female guitarist didn't understand why she was there when all she wanted was be with Skwisgaar and the others. Her surgery wasn't a big deal, just necessary to remove the shards of glass from her hip and sew up her large gash on her on her arm. She was relieved to know that it wouldn't leave visible scars. These doctors were angels in that aspect.

"Ms. Hathor." The doctor finally said calmly in Swedish, typing something on the computer, "Have you felt any nausea lately? In the morning perhaps?" looking up, Runa shrugged.

"Uh, the past week or so, yes."

"Do your breasts hurt?"

"No, but I think they got slightly bigger. My bras don't fit quite right."

The doctor nodded, writing something down on a clip board before again tapping a few keys. "Now… Are you on any kind of birth control? When was your last period?"

Runa, again, shrugged, not understanding why the woman was asking her such irrelevant things, "I was on the shot, might have worn off by now, and to be honest, my last period was over six months ago, I think. I should be expecting the break through bleeding soon."she sighed, "No big deal."

The older woman sighed, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose. Sitting on a stool in front of Runa, she placed a warm hand on her knee. "Ms. Hathor, I'm going perform an ultrasound on you. Your blood tests came back a bit… abnormal. Please, lay down."

Runa did as she was told, though a bit confused about what the doctor had meant. Ultrasound? Why? Shouldn't they be doing some x-rays instead if they had to find whatever was wrong with her? There was no need for her to see a gynocologist any way. She jumped as cold cream was placed on her lower stomach. The doctor carefully pressed the device down that looked like small triangular vacuum, spreading the cream and looking at a black and white monitor to her left. Runa cocked her head to get a look at it.

"Have you consumed alcohol or taken any drugs over the past few months?" The older women's brows creased a littled.

Runa thought for a minute, grunting when the women pushed down a little too hard on a tender spot, "Not in about two months. Turk's Blood. After that, nothing. Maybe a beer, but only a bottle though highly doubtful."

"Oh my…" The doctor sighed, holding the weird mechanism still, "Just as I thought." A small smiled crept on her lips. "I hope it'll be ok. If you haven't consumed any harmful substances, it should be find."

"What?" Runa said, getting a sinking feeling again. "Sometings wrongs? Am I bleedings from da insides? What's is its you talks abouts?"The doctor could tell that the Finnish woman was beginning to panic.

Dr. Krushnek shook her head negatively and turned off the monitor. "No, Ms. Hathor, nothing is wrong." She smiled kindly up at her, "Though I must say congratulation. You're six weeks along."

Runa sat up, not understanding what she meant. "Huh? What do you mean 'six weeks'?" She watched as the doctor pulled out a calendar.

"Ms. Hathor, you're going to have a baby. We can expect it's birth in mid June the earliest."

Runa gasped, then looked down at her tummy. The information hadn't sunk in just yet, but still she let out a shriek that echoed in the room and hallway. "What! No… NO!" Her voice could be heard bouncing around the corridor, no doubt anyone in the waiting room would hear it. Strangely enough, a scream that sounded much like Cherry could be heard as well further up the hall way.

The doctor once again placed a hand on her knee, "Please, stay calm. If you stress out, it could hurt the fetus. It's a miracle it's alright after your ordeal. Please, Ms. Hathor, sit back and rest and… Ms. Hathor!" Runa didn't hear the rest as she fainted.

--At the same time with Cherry—

Cherry finally came out of surgery a grueling seven and a half hours later. As the anesthesia faded, she woke up feeling drowsy, but could comprehend what was going on around her, especially the babbling nurse beside her. She nodded a few times in acknowledgement about taking it easy and not stressing out while she stayed in the hospital for the next week or two before going back 'home'. She snorted at that through the oxygen mask. Cancerous' home was a tour bus. No resting there. But Moira said they'd most likely be heading back to Mordlord with the men. The nurse finally left.

A bag of morphine and blood were connected to each of her arms, keeping the pain at bay and replenishing her blood. A bit risky in her critcal state, but necessary. It was an odd feeling, but Cherry was glad to be drugged out again even if it was legal at the moment. If only she could have a pina colada or something. That would have made everything better had she not gone anemic. The Texan drummer had stunned the doctors and nurses when she hadn't fallen into a coma, which happened to anyone who had gone through as much as she did. The woman was amazing.

Her surgeon came into the room, finally cleaned up. He was actually a British doctor who was employed by Yakov for this occasion. The man checked her vital signs, rubbing his grey goatee thoughfully. Cherry stared up at him questioningly.

"Well, Ms. Cherry. I have good news and bad." He sighed, finally turning to face his patient. "So I'm going to tell you the bad just so it's done and over with and hopefully the good news will help." He rubbed his hands together nervously.

Cherry pulled the masked down so her voice wouldn't be muffled. "Tell me the good first. If it's bad… I think I prefer Pickles 'ere." Her voice was a bit hoarse and itchy. She swallowed, hoping to moisten her chords.

"But… he's not your husband or family. This must be told to you confidentially, in case you don't want others to know." He took her hand in his and rubbed it in a soothing manner. "Are you sure?" Cherry nodded weakly. "Very well… Nurse?" The surgeon said as he pressed the intercom on the side of her bed, "Can you please get a Mr. Pickles from the waiting room and send him to recovery room to meet with me and Ms. Cherry."

"So, the good news doc?" The doctor assisted her as she sat up straighter, tired of being parallel to the floor. "Thanks, sug."

"Right then. Good news. Well, you should make a speedy recovery if you continue to take antibiotics to keep your injuries from infection. I tried very hard to make sure your scars will not be ghastly. You're a performer and a beautiful young woman, I'm sure you'll appreciate that." He smiled lightly.

Cherry giggled a little, "Mhmm. A nice body is a wanted body in our business now a days." The door opened slowly. "Hey."

Pickles couldn't look her in the eyes as he sheepishly waved in her direction. "Uh… how ya feeling?" he stole a glance at her direction. "I was getting scared." His bottom lip trembled.

The female drummer smiled, her eyes softening as he came closer. "I'm fine, hun. Doc says I'll make a nice recovery. Just gotta take it easy is all." Pickles sat down on the seat beside her bed as the physician moved away. He held her hand and stroke her cheek. "Say it again… that you…"

"I love you. Really, I do." He kissed the back of hand, mindful of the wires and tubes attatched to her. Watching her look so beat up and pale in the bed tore at his heart. The love of his life was heart… almost dead when she made it to Yakov's. Imagines of her being carted away with a blood soak sheet over her haunted his mind. Pickles had been terrified at the thought of them pulling the blanket over her face.

The doctor cleared his throat, causing the both of them to blush and look up at him. Pickles glared at him, but quieted nonetheless. The physician rubbed the back of his neck, "Where should I even begin? Uh, Ms. Cherry, I need for you to stay calm as I explain to you the situation that you are in. Don't worry, it's nothing life threaten, so to speak." He really didn't want to be the bearer of bad news.

"I don't understand. Whadda ya mean 'so ta speak'?" She gripped Pickles hand as tight as she could, not liking the rather dark tone of the doctor. Her heart monitor quickened. Pickles braced himself for whatever the older man had to say.

The surgeon sighed with sympathy. "Unfortunately, you were two months pregnant. Because of the stab wound you received, it punctured your uterus. You lost the fetus." The doctor said it rather quickly, but the two were able to catch it. Both of them gasped, "That's not the worst of it."

"Not the wor-…?" Pickles ground his teeth together, feeling Cherry shake as she fought down a sob, "What's worse then losin' the baby you douche bag!" He head whipped over as Cherry doubled over in her bed, clutching her stomach. "Shit, babe. Are you ok?" the surgeon came around to the other side to try and get her to relax. Her wound was beginning to reopen, staining the cover with small red blotched. "Fuck… Cherry, sit up."

"A baby… we were… n' I? Oh God…" Tears were already streaming down her face as she looked up at Pickles helplessly, not quite sure about his take on the news. Her boyfriend gasped, seeing the fear take over her senses. He didn't know what to do. Cherry's mind began to race. Did he want it? The pain etched on his face told her yes, he did. "If… that's not the worse, what is? Cain't we start o-over?"

The doctor mentally slapped himself for telling her so soon, but he thought the impact wouldn't be as terrible if he just dropped the bomb while she was supposedly relaxed from the morphine. He thought she knew. Taking a shaky breath, the doctor continued, "I… I don't think so." Cherry let out a strangled cry, "The injury was deep and quite large, there is a great possibility that you may never conceive again. Your uterus is scarred and your left tube was cut, narrowing your chances of an egg clinging to the endometrium even more. I'm sorry."

Cherry looked like a deer caught in headlights. Pickles tried his best to hug her as he leaned toward the bed. Cherry latched onto him, crying harder and screaming. "No! Please, no!" The women let out a wail of pain, making both men cringe at the deep hurt she felt. The female drummer came from a large family, and she herself wanted one of her own. Soon Cherry became short of breath as a similar horrified yell was heard. Her monitor beeped erractically, her heart dangerously close to going into cardiac arrest. The surgeon immediately separated the couple, throwing her oxygen mask over her mouth and forcing her to lay back in the bed. As the gas flowed, Cherry herself fainted.

Pickles stood back, visibly shaken. His heart thundered in his chest, constricting painfully. Furiously rubbing his moist cheeks from the tears he didn't know he shed, he looked at the distraught physician. "Are you sure about… ?" he couldn't bear to finish his sentence.

"I'm sure." He said sadly, nodding his head slowly, "Ms. Cherry has become barren. Chances of conceiving are slim to none." Pickles and Cherry's hopes and dreams were shattered then and there.

Pickles ran a hand over his head, taking a calming breath. He needed to be strong. The drummer knew how much Cherry adored kids, and once confessed she wanted one before she turned thirty, no matter who the father was. The idea was sweet, but now a farfetched dream.

"Fuck… it wasn't, suppose ta be like this. I didn't even ask her." He sighed and leaned over the bar of the bed to stroke her cheek, wiping away the evidence of her pain. Kissing her forehead, he left the room.

--In the Waiting Room—

Skwisgaar immediately pounced on Pickles as he walked out of the recovery ward. He didn't care his right arm throbbed from underneath the brace it was in. "Is Runa's ok? I hears screams. Fuckings doctors not lets me in!" The drummer pried the Swede's hands off his shoulder.

"The fuck do I know! I have a lot of shit to deal with right now. Cherry's not gonna be the same when she wakes up. I don't see how." Skwisgaar stepped back and growled, wondering what was happening to the Finnish woman. Pickles was lost in thought, still not believing that he and Cherry were going to have a child, and that child was gone. He jumped as Lucy placed a hand on his arm with her good arm. The other was in a sling.

"What happens?" her eyes searched his, hoping he would say something. In the background, Murderface and Bloodyfist, now joining the group, were arguing about who kicked more ass with Toki, the Norwegian holding up his cast covered arm. It was their way of coping with the trauma. Nathan still wasn't back from where ever he went. Skwisgaar, cursing his Swedish, paced back and forth. "Don'ts keeps it bottles up, it justs hurt more."

Pickles bit his trembling lower lip. He didn't look into her big blue eyes, afraid of breaking down, but he decided to speak. Perhaps she would know how to help Cherry. "Lucy… Cherry and I…" he wrung his hands nervously, "We were gonna have a baby… but she lost it because… because of the stab wound." The Ukrainian guitarist gasped. "And I know, she really wanted one but… she won't be able to. Not anymore." He was shocked when Lucy hugged him.

It took a moment for Pickles to wrap his scratched arms around her frail shoulders. "For as longs as I is knowings Cherries, I knew she wanteds to has a baby and ifs possible, wit someone she loves. She is so happies with you Pickle, I tinks dat her dream was comings trues. Now, the only ting I tink we cans," she paused and shook her head, "No, you cans does is makes sures dat she knows you loves her. Yous does, right?" Pickles nodded causing Lucy to smile as she pulled back, "Goods. I may bes young, but I is not stupids. I know dat all of us has dis bond between us dat can'ts be broken. We wills find Moiras, and Cherries will be betters. You sees. Dey are strongers den you tinks." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before turning around and headed back to sit next to Toki. The young Norwegian wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, leaning his head on hers.

Pickles couldn't help but smile a little himself. Perhaps she was right. Cherry would be better, and in this day and age, there were other methods to have children of their own that didn't involve adoption. Fingering the lump in his pocket, he went back to Cherry's room to wait for her to wake up again. Little did he know the woman had slipped into a coma the doctor had worried about.

--With Moira—

The vocalist woke again, shivering at the chill in the room. She tried to move her hands to rub them against her arms, but was startled to find them tied behind her in an uncomfortable chair and her ankles tied to the legs. Everything was dark, the only light was coming from a single bulb above her head. She was still in a dingy hospital gown, now slightly damp and freezing, causing her skin to ache.

A door opened up behind her, but she couldn't twist around enough to see who was coming, not that she had to wait long. Her eyes narrowed as she bared her teeth, an animalistic growl emitting from her throat. Her eyes glowed with rage.

"What the fuck Andrew!" she spat, struggling to get out of her restraints. "The fuck is going on?" The man said nothing as Javier appeared behind him, rolling a TV into her line of vision. It was a live broadcast and still the general or the others had yet to figure out about the ring's activation.

(Cue Otep's "Milk of Regret")

Was I just your surrogate?
Was I your revenge?
Was I just your surrogate?
Was I your revenge?
I... have... no regrets... yet
I... have... no regrets...

You'll wish we never took this ride...
You make me do this, you make me do this, you make me
I wish I was afraid of suicide,
long ago before I died
We should never be this high
I wish I was afraid of suicide

The news was playing, the image was focused on Crozier as he addressed the crowd of reporters and fans outside of a hospital. Moira faintly recognized it being situated in her childhood city. Crozier's voice was hard to hear through the screaming. Moira had to read the texts scrolling across screen to understand.

"Last night at the concert ground, the bands were attacked by two terrorist groups. Death tolls continue to rise. As many of you are aware of, the Revengencers were after Dethklok while Undertakers attacked Cancerous. As of now, we're on a search to find missing vocalist Moira Implosion, abducted during the fighting and badly injured. Our culprit is Javier Van Winkler, leader of the Undertakers. If you have any news of Ms. Implosion or on Van Winkler, give us a call on our hotline ---------, immediately."

Once was I... made of glass,
Long ago, before I cracked...
Once was I... made of glass,
Long ago... before I cracked...
You made me do this!

I just can't forget
the blood,
the stitches,
the bite marks,
the kisses,
the glass memories reflecting back
the suffocating block,
ill milk of regret
Just smile and breathe,
dad we never mattered it anyway
Smile and breathe,
dad we never mattered anyway

As it continued, Moira felt like bashing the men's head together. She took her eyes of the TV and continued to glare at her former CFO who had a large smirk on his face. He was dressed in a camouflage army suit and thick brown boots. Javier stood beside with a stoic face. The only thing he wore were a pair of black baggy cargo jeans and metal toed boots. She would have yelled at them again but the next voice on television caused her to stop.

You'll wish we never took this..

I'm starving,
I'm starving...
I'm starving for affection
Your heart is made of ash
And you were just a face to me,
a sacrificial lamb
Rejection, Revenge
Deception, Dimense
I might be going down in flames,
but you will burn with me
You'll wish we never took this ride

"I demand to know Moira's whereabouts before I fucking kill everyone on the face of the earth. If she's still hurt, I'll rip your fucking face off dick head. I know you're watching. I will not sleep until she's returned." Nathan growled into the mike. The trio in the room could sense the dark aura around him as everyone in the crowd took a step back. Nathan gripped the podium in a tight grasp, his knuckles turning white and his palm began to bleed from where the edges pressed into his skin. "So listen fuckfaces out there who helped take her away from me, I'm going to kill you and send your to the deepest part of hell. I will find you."

I just can't forget
the blood,
the stitches,
the bite marks,
the kisses,
the glass memories reflecting back
the suffocating black,
ill milk of regret
Just smile and breathe,
tell them: we never mattered anyway

..no one will know

Munkittrick turned off the TV at that and chuckled, turning to the flabbergasted Implosion. She really had no idea he cared. Moira thought he'd be glad she was gone, he would no longer have competition. She snapped out of her daze as Andrew grabbed her chin.

This is the perfect place
to hide the crime and burn the remains.
This is the perfect place
To hide the crime and burn the remains.
I was so naive
I refused to feed
Waiting for you to notice me
I was so naive
I refused to feed
Waiting for you...

Like a love sick anorexic!

"Seems the moron finally figured out his feelings for you. Hooray for Moira." He mocked. "But I'm not returning you. Oh no." he kneeled in front of her, still holding her chin with one and with the other he rubbed her clammy thigh. She stiffened. "Listen, Moira. I know things are a bit odd, but don't worry, I'm going to explain everything. Why I asked Charlie-boy for help, why I faked my own death and why you're here." He chuckled darkly. Javier stood behind him, his arms behind his back.

I just can't forget
the love you twisted
the lies you enlisted
The killers quietly beat me down
I hope you drown in this shit milk or regret
I won't fucking forget

I hope you drown while you're world is burning down
I hope you drown while you're world is burning down

Moira adverted her eyes from him, "Well then get to it. You've been our manager for about six years and just when I thought things were going good, you do this. What the hell?" she shot him a heated glare as his hand wandered up beneath the hem of her hospital gown. "Don't touch me!"

...the whole world is burning
...your whole world is burning
...your whole world is burning
...your whole world is burning down
...your whole world is burning
...your whole world is burning
...your whole world is burning, is burning down

Munkittrick did as he was told, standing up as he did so. "Where should I begin? Hmm? Maybe at the part where I have this undeniable jealous rage when it comes to Ofdensen. He always did better. Don't know why still. But after he began to make billions with Dethklok, I had to do something. So I hired Javier to make a group of rabid Dethklok fans and go after you. It worked. One call for help and Charlie was willing to lend a hand. He thought it would make the boys work harder, and they did.

"But there was still so much I needed to know. So for a month, I reacquainted myself with Charlie, shared a few stories, had a few laughs. Breaking into his vault was a real bitch, but I did it. I have all of his documents backed up. but I knew he was getting suspicious and so I had to disappear. Nothing to worry about. Moira, babe, you're one of the most famous metal icons on earth, and everyone knows Nathan Explosion is in love with you. He's simple minded as well. I'm sure that after a while, I'll dangle you like a lure and he'll work for me, making me billions. All to keep you safe."

Moira sat there, shocked at his words. "You're fucking crazy." She said, watching him cackle like a lunatic. "All this time you were using us? To get to them?" She felt used and disgusted at the fact her and the others had thought of him as family.

Munkittrick crossed his arms over his chest, "Not from the start. I really did see potential in you all, but when Dethklok climbed to the charts and became a household name, I had enough of standing in the side lines as Ofdensen paraded his success. I knew the five of you would get along with them, I just had to bid my time until the right opportunity." He patted her head, "And if Nathan doesn't comply, well, he's dead. Javier is disgusted he loves a little whore." Before she could react, Andrew Munkittrick struck Moira on her left cheek for no apparent reason. She gasped, feeling the fresh cut on her lip begin to bleed. That was how Munkittrick and Van Winkler left her.

--Back in Moscow—

Ivan burst into the door of Ofdensen's office were dozens of radio equipment and transmitters lined the walls. He was sitting in front of one that had a map of Russia with a pair of headphones over his ears. Ivan shook his shoulder.

"Is is true?" he panted, having rushed from one end of the hospital to another.

The CFO looked up at him, "It's hard to tell if it's Moira. Several signals of similar frequencies have turned up. I've mobilized several search parties to investigate. Any clues at the concert site?" he took a sip from his coffee mug. Poor Ofdensen looked disheveled, his hair was a mess and there were circles under his eyes. A five o' clock shadow was making its appearance known.

Ivan sighed, "Not yet, but get some rest Ofdensen. I'll take over for now with Crozier's help. Seth is still sleeping in his room." He helped the older man out of his seat, "We need to consider your health as well. If something happens to you, everything's going down the shit hole." Charles nodded.

"Very well. But if anything happens, come get me." Before he left he turned around, "And Ivan."

"Yes sir?"

"The bands' families have clearance to come up and see them. They must have their IDs and birth certificates to actually make it to this floor. That's all." With that, he walked out of the room to go and take a much needed power nap.

--Back with the bands—

Runa finally limped out of the recovery hall with a help of a male nurse an hour later. Skwisgaar wasted no time to be by her side, hugging her tightly and asking if everything was ok. She laughed a little, trying to get out of his embrace. She was touched by his concern for her.

"I'm alright." She said softly, putting a hand against the Swede's bruised cheek.

He shook his head, "You don't sound fine to me. I heard you yelling! What happened?" he pulled back to examine her with his eyes. "Did those dildoes hurt you?"

Runa shook her head, a small smile on her lips, "Skwisgaar. I'm fine. I uh…" she didn't know if she could bare to tell him about their 'little problem'. She hadn't decided on whether or not to keep the baby or get an abortion. If she decided the latter, it was best to keep it a secret. Surely the world's fastest guitar player did not want a child. That struck a chord in her heart. No, he couldn't know, "They say I may scar pretty badly on the hip. If that's the case… my body is no longer perfect." She half lied.

The male guitarist shook his head, "You'll always be perfect to me, no matter what. Any woman who can defend herself like you is a gift from god." He kissed her forehead. Runa couldn't help but smile wider at that. She was anything but perfect.

EEEK! I finished two days before my deadline, huzzah! Thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter! Three more to go and Cancerouklok is OVER! Then we have the special "lost" chapter. I think you'll enjoy that one :3

Insomnia: Moira was actually kidnapped by crazy Van Winkler. So sorry if I confused you, I didn't go over the chapter before posting, not that I ever fix all my mistakes. Lol. And I do believe you will like my last chapter pertaining to Nathan and Moira, -wink, wink, nudge nudge- heheheheh!

Dragonz: Woot! I would think everyone would hate me for the cliffies. This chapter didn't really have one, so, yay! Or should it be 'nay'? The fighting was hard to write D: Especially when my first draft wasn't saved. But I do believe it was better than the first :)

Gremlin: Yes, my life had an Ouran twist. It was so weird, and not exactly fun. D: I had a dream about my very open freshmen buddy a few nights ago. It was awkward!

Angela: Guess what? I didn't post it on Friday :D I did it early! YAY! I project that my next update may be one week from today (hopefully). Thanks for waiting.