10-2 Falcon is down!
Toki didn't dare open his eyes as he crouched, hidden, on the floor of the isolation booth. He fell deeper into himself. Deeper into the punishment hole. The smell of stale air trapped between the stone, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling, the taste of his own blood. His consciousness flowed from the edges of reality into the dark spaces of his mind, and slowly, from the murky blackness, his father appeared to him.
His heart pumped violently with shame. The shame of having done wrong, of burdening his father with the duty of punishing him. The piercing look from his father's eyes pinned him to the wall; a reminder that God was watching him and demanded his sins be stripped from his very flesh.
The cracking whip rang in his ears and the heat from his wound spread across his back like a forest fire, each scar a tall redwood bursting into flame. Another wave of popping ran through his arms and legs as the last of the champagne bubbles burst in his stomach.
'You're still letting him do this?' Toki heard his own voice speak to him without uttering a word. 'Stand up to him, you pussy'. He said. A thick darkness poured over him like tar pitch. Over his head, down his neck, and across his burning back. He held his breath as it enveloped his entire being, holding him there, helplessly staring back at his father's scorn.
'Stand up.' Toki said to himself again.
"I can't." He replied. "I'm stuck, I can't move." The darkness was cooling on him, setting him into his crouched position on the floor.
Gaze set like stone, his father drew his whip arm up and back. Toki screamed at every muscle in his body to move but the darkness had set hard and frozen him in place. The whip cut through the air above them and moved in a righteous arch set to land on the heretic huddled at the bearer's feet.
There was nowhere to go. Nowhere, except down. The floor of his consciousness gave way and he fell further into himself, sacrificing his body to save his soul.
'For fuck's sake.' His forearm shot up from his side to shield him.
It caught the whip lash and the leather thong coiled around it. He had expected it to be the thin bones of a child, but instead, it was the muscular arm of his adult self, before he had atrophied. Veins pressed against his skin as his muscles strained against the fetter. Toki stared at himself in awe.
'Every God damn time, I have to save us.'
Toki poked his head up and over the edge of lucid thought, "Who the hell are you?"
'Me? I'm the sucker who has to step in whenever you implode. I'm the one filling the gap, looking out for us, protecting us until you get your shit together and decide to come back out.'
His scars burned and the fire spread through the pitch to every part of his body.
'I'm the one who stepped in front of this arsehole's whip and felt its sting over and over and OVER!'
His arm pulled back without his instruction and ripped the whip from his father's hand. Fingers wrapping around the rough wooden handle, he wrung out its power. Toki rolled forward and straightened his legs rising to stand tall. The darkness no longer froze him in place. No. Instead, it burned hot, pushing its way inside to form a writhing ball of magma at his very core. He curled the tip of the whip in little circles on the stone floor as he looked at his father; Man to Man.
For years the silhouette of long robes against the small opening of the punishment hole had meant pain. But the crack of leather on flesh had made sparks; Sparks that lit a dark, brutal, primal flame on the fuel of hatred. A flame that now swelled from a pilot light to a roaring blaze. The black fire moved up from his belly, into his throat. Its warmth pushed out from his skin and spread across him like Nasgoul's armor.
The other Toki smiled and Toki felt the upward pull on his own lips as they stared pure hatred into their father's face.
'I've been waiting a long fucking time for this.' The rasp in the other Toki's voice sent bubbles popping through Toki's limbs again, but this time, they were bubbles of lava. His father's eyes narrowed, daring them to do it. To deify him and the will of God. Their shoulder drew back, whip in hand, arm muscles quivering with the anticipation of a taught bow string.
The amplified creak of the studio door filled his head. The punishment hole receded from Toki's vision until he was once again sitting in the darkness of the isolation booth.
He clutched at his chest as he re-calibrated his breathing pattern and his reality. The talk-back microphone was on, and through it came a familiar voice.
"What do you want from me." Skwisgaar snapped at Pelle as he pushed the padded studio door shut.
"What I want?" Pelle moved in closer, but Skwisgaar didn't back away. "I want you to know how proud I am of you." he smiled and brushed Skwisgaar's hair over his ear. Skwisgaar stood motionless as a confusing warmth nestled in his chest. "I want you to know I still think of you," The tension between their bodies grew and an invisible lighting crackled in the narrow space. "and I regret ever letting you go."
Pelle ran his hand to the back of Skwisgaar's neck and all Skwisgaar's hairs stood on end. His thoughts buzzed and swirled, making them impossible to hold on to. His bottom lip trembled as his heart thumped wildly against his ribs.
"Let me go?" Skwisgaar stammered as he caught one of his flying thoughts. He took hold of Pelle's wrist and removed his hand from the back of his neck. "You left me behind."
"And you left me behind." Pelle's face soured, "You left for America and didn't give me another thought."
"You got married!" Skwisgaar released Pelle's wrist and turned to the beverage trolley in search of a towel.
"Which was the biggest sign that I wasn't OK! How could you just leave me like that?" Pelle's brow scrunched tightly over his leaf-green eyes.
"Are you fucking serious?" Skwisgaar stopped mid choimies over his arm. "You graduated from one of the most prestigious music schools in Scandinavia." He took a step into Pelle's personal space, scrunching the towel in his fret hand. "There's pictures of your perfect wife accepting awards from Queen Sonja." Pelle gave him a surprised look, Skwisgaar flashed wild eyes at him. "You even ended up as Principle Flute for the Oslo Philharmonic." Pelle's jaw slackened as he stared wide eyed. Skwisgaar's top lip curled, "Your perfect life, all wrapped up with a neat bow on top. The life you abandoned Dark Star for. The life you abandoned me for. And you have the balls to stand there and say that all of that screamed 'save me'?"
"Yes! Does any of that sound like me at all?" Pelle looked at him more desperately, "Those meds, they made me a Zombie. I couldn't even write my own music, I just played what was in front of me. It was like, all the colours were sucked from the world and all that was left was beige." Pelle crossed his arms. "And I was stuck in that happy hell hole for five years until…" he looked down.
"Until what?" Skwisgaar narrowed his eyes at him.
"Until I started to see your face everywhere." Pelle turned his head away, Skwisgaar's brow loosened. "Tours, interviews, magazine covers. It made me look at my life, and I realised how disgusting it was." Pelle's gaze dropped to his shoes.
It was either the black fire, warm champagne or what he just heard that curdled Toki's stomach. He put a hand to his mouth. Who the fuck was this guy? He didn't know the other voice but it sure knew Skwisgaar.
'All this time and he never mentioned someone this close to him? More lies. More secrets. More bullshit. What else do you expect?' The Other-Toki said from just behind his eyes.
Fuck, another monster had followed him out of his head and into reality. Toki focused on his breathing to stop himself from vomiting.
Skwisgaar's head was swirling with Pelle's words. He took a few long strides towards the studio sofa and extracted a half bottle of Akvavit from its hiding place underneath. Unscrewing the cap, he collapsed on the sofa and took a short swig of the offensive liquid, wincing as he brought it away from his lips.
"So you've been keeping tabs on me, then?" Pelle said and sat on the sofa next to him.
"No. I just hear things." Skwisgaar lied. When Dethklok started to make it big, the hoods had gathered information on all his previous band mates. There were a lot of records, but Pelle's file was the only one he read.
"Well, it's nice to think that you were. But I suppose it's much easier for me to keep track of you." Pelle slid closer to him.
Skwisgaar considered Pelle's words carefully. His fame usually protected him. People fell over themselves to do things for him, help him, excuse him from anti-social behaviour. But it was a double-edged sword, he couldn't hide in the spotlight.
Pelle looked at the bottle in Skwisgaar's hand and gave a little laugh."You've got all the money in the world and you still drink that stuff? What for? Nostalgia?"
"Something like that." Skwisgaar handed the bottle over, just like he used to. "but mostly to get drunk as fast as fucking possible."
Pelle took a swig from the bottle."Geeze, it's worse than I remembered." He winced and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "That taste takes me back."
"Back to the Gothenburg house." Skwisgaar sighed. The Gothenburg house; it was his Genesis, the garden from which he grew. The first place he had felt safe to be himself, safe to be the real him. At least he thought he had been safe. He reached out for the bottle and touched Pelle's hand. A little zap of familiarity tingled between their fingers. Nostalgia.
"You know, you really fucked us all up by leaving so suddenly. Everything fell apart after that." Skwisgaar twitched his sticky fret fingers over the glass bottle, "I thought it was my fault, you know? That I wasn't a good enough guitar player. That I was holding the band back, holding you back. I thought that's why you left."
'Holy shit! The god of the Guitar used to bow to someone? Who the fuck is this guy?! And what the hell is he doing here?' The Other Toki said silently.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Toki said just as silently back, although he had the same questions.
'We've been over this, I'm here until you snap out of it.'
All senses from the punishment hole had retreated, so snap out of what?
"I had no idea that's how you felt. That must have been awful for you." Pelle said and leaned forward in his seat. "They changed my medication around that time. Made me think that leaving the house and moving to Oslo was 'getting my shit together'; That I was doing what I was supposed to do. When I should have done the exact opposite." He put a hand to his forehead, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what might have been. I'd look at Dethklok, at you gaining fame, and think, that could have been m-" He paused "Us. That could have been us, Dark Star, on the posters, touring the world." Pelle leaned back on the sofa and sighed, "That could have been us." He stretched his arm along the sofa back behind Skwisgaar.
Skwisgaar bit the inside of his lip as Toki's words from the roof shot through his head 'there aren't any dreams left, we've caught them all'. Did Pelle really understand what he was wishing for? Only after you chase it down and wrangle it to the ground do you realise, you are the one caught in Fame's grasp.
"Well. You seem to be doing Okay with Hammerstorm." Skwisgaar took another short swig of Akvavit.
"It's been good so far. We've almost run out of our advance, though. I hope there isn't too much backlash from me coming in on vocals. Have to keep the fans happy." Pelle took the bottle and gave Skwisgaar a knowing smile.
"Arrg. Fans." Skwisgaar said. It felt like old times, passing the bottle between them, and he let the warmth of the Akvavit trickling down inside his chest loosen his tongue. "The bigger we get the more horrible they become."
"You're nothing without the fans, remember that." Pelle looked at him sternly, "They are the true power in our world." He sipped from the bottle without breaking eye contact.
'Our world'? Skwisgaar considered the choice of words carefully. What would Pelle know of Skwisgaar's world? Had he spent weeks in court because a few idiots nearly downed listening to one of his albums underwater? Did he have to put up with journalists digging into his private affairs to further their own careers? Or have a constant security detail?
"Have your fans ever tried to kill you?" Skwisgaar pursed his lips and dropped his brow again. "Because mine have."
Pelle stared at the floor and rested the bottle on his knee. "I know. The Gulf of Danzig show. I was there, watching you." Pelle handed the bottle back to Skwisgaar. "It was scary enough from the ground, I can't begin to imagine what it was like for you."
"It's definitely one of the more fucked up things that has ever happened to us." Skwisgaar took the bottle, Pelle brushed their fingers together again, this time on purpose, sending confusing little messages all over Skwisgaar's body.
An odd comfort came over him; maybe it really was the medication that had fucked him up? Because right now it felt like he was talking to his Pelle, the one he used to tell everything to, the one who knew the real him. He took a long swig from the bottle and shook his head to work it, and his draw bridge, down.
"To be honest, we haven't fully recovered from it. There are some things you just can't forget." Skwisgaar looked at the bottle of oblivion in his hand, "Even when you try."
Toki's body reached such a high level of tension, he felt like a guitar string about to snap. Skwisgaar was talking so openly about the band's worst moment. Even the band hadn't talked about it, not really. Besides, it wasn't anyone else's business, especially not this stranger.
'Yet, he's talking to him. Telling him things he doesn't tell you. Opening up. By choice.' The other Toki pressed on the inside of his skull.
He put his hand to his temple as it began to pound again. Who was the Skwisgaar on the roof, then? Pouring his guts out to him in the rain? That wasn't by choice?
'That was just another show.' The other Toki's voice was coming from outside his head now. 'You thought you'd developed some kind of deeper connection with him. Ha.' The voice became more solid, like a pitch black shadow moving through the forests of night; darker than black. 'You thought you were special? Only crazy people think they're special.'
Toki swallowed in his dry throat.
Pelle leaned back on the couch and sighed. "I guess things could have been different if we had stuck together?"
"Well, that wasn't up to me." Skwisgaar said pointedly.
"It wasn't up to me either, I won't let them medicate me ever again. They were just trying to control me." Pelle leaned in and put his hand on Skwisgaar's shoulder, "But I'm free now. We're both free."
Skwisgaar looked at the hand on his shoulder and then to Pelle's face. "You think we're going to pick up where we left off or something?" He moved Pelle's hand away, "Pfft. Keep dreaming."
"I don't expect anything like that." He reached out and tenderly brushed Skwisgaar's cheek "But what's the harm in, reconnecting?" He skated his hand to the back of Skwisgaar's neck, guiding him into place. Skwisgaar's spine rippled under the familiar touch of his former lover.
"What makes you think I would want to do that?" Skwisgaar said, eyebrows pressed into a scowl. Pelle moved in closer and pushed Skwisgaar's golden, champagne soaked locks from his face.
"Look at you, still fiery as ever. It's always been such a turn on." Pelle squeezed the back of Skwisgaar's neck, turning his touch into a binding hold. "Tell me you've missed me."
"I haven't." Skwisgaar told his body to stand, but it didn't listen.
"I always know when you're lying, you know that." Pelle moved his other hand to grasp as Skwisgaar's far shoulder, locking him in position, "I can see right through you, my little Falcon."
"Don't call me that." Skwisgaar looked down.
"Why not? You used to love it." Pelle manipulated the back of Skwisgaar's skull and turned Skwisgaar's head to look at him, "And you still do, I can see it in your eyes." He pressed his fingers harder into Skwisgaar's shoulder. "I know you, the real you. You can't hide from me." Skwisgaar's chest felt hollow as the authority in Pelle's voice mounted, "Now tell me you've missed me." Skwisgaar's lip trembled. "Say it."
Pelle's voice was deep and powerful. It was the stern voice of a father Skwisgaar had never leaned to defy. There was no room for negotiation here, he would obey or there would be consequences. Skwisgaar's breathing was shallow; He was 16 years old again, completely exposed and at Pelle's mercy. There was no fight, Pelle had already won. He bowed his head; just like old times, alright.
"I've… missed you." Skwisgaar's voice wavered, small and compliant.
Both Toki's took a sharp inward breath. Something was wrong. In all his years living with Skwisgaar, dealing with his ego or even witnessing his meltdowns, never had he heard whatever it was he had just heard in his voice. He sounded small. Not small like a freshly collapsed supernova about to fuck up the bar/ hotel room/ press conference/ court room. Small like…
'Like when you were facing down the whip?' The other Toki finished his thought.
Toki needed to see what was happening, to see his face. He kept low and moved himself to the safety of the dark at the back of the isolation booth. A kind of presence followed him and stood next to where Toki crouched. They both turned and peered out beyond the glass. Skwisgaar's face was held in the fingers of another half-elf. He looked limp somehow. Placid. Like a dog submitting to his owner's commands.
The other guy leaned in and pressed their cheeks together, nuzzling his pet.
The familiar warmth of Pelle's skin on Skwisgaar's held him still; he knew better than to flinch.
"See, I told you. I can see right into your soul." He spoke softly into his ear, "I've missed you too, little Falcon." Pelle fell forward and pressed their chests together pulling him into a tight embrace. "I've missed you so much it pains me. Stabs at my heart."
Pelle moved his head back to look at Skwisgaar's face. He grabbed the back of Skwisgaar's head again, "Now you're going to kiss me."
This wasn't a request; this was a command. Skwisgaar hesitated and Pelle dug his fingers into Skwisgaar's shoulder like spurs in a horse's side.
Skwisgaar's mind sent signals to his body to pull away, but the orders were blocked by something deep beneath the surface of his consciousness.
"I'm not going to force you. You have to come to me willingly." Pelle said, fingers digging deeper into his shoulder.
Skwisgaar fought his nerves again, begging them to move, but his orders were still not making it to the front lines of his body. Pelle's impatience grew. He was disappointing him. The shame of disobedience flooded the deepest parts of his being and he was pulled on invisible puppet strings towards Pelle.
Their lips touched and the old feelings returned. The calming relief of defeat came over him. The once familiar feeling of giving himself over and no longer having to bear the burden of resistance. Pelle was inside him now and fighting him would only damage himself in the process. He had been infiltrated and the strategic move was surrender, to submit to him.
Pelle broke away. "Good. Now look at me." He said in a tone that had slithered straight out of the Garden of Eden. He brushed at Skwisgaar's cheek in delicate instruction and Skwisgaar opened his eyes.
Skwisgaar felt himself watching the scene from somewhere else. He was yelling, berating, and pleading with himself to just punch this arsehole and go wash the fifty thousand dollars worth of Champagne out of his hair. But he couldn't break through.
"Let's just forget the past." Pelle smiled and laced his fingers between Skwisgaar's. "This is your night after all, so let's celebrate." He pushed his lips onto Skwisgaar's again, more forcefully this time.
Skwisgaar's hands were pulled by those invisible strings, pulling them into familiar positions. He fell back on the couch, back into their routine with Pelle on top of him, keeping him down.
Pelle moved his way down Skwisgaar's neck as he ran his hands up the inside of his shirt. "I thought about this often. What you were like now." He Lifted Skwisgaar's shirt as he ran his hands under it, "You're not a boy anymore, are you?" He ran his hands up and over Skwisgaar's shoulders then slowly down to his biceps where he leaned in to hold him down. "You're a man of real power now."
Skwisgaar's heart was racing. He was right. Fuck, damn it, he was right! So why couldn't he just shove Pelle off him?
Pelle dropped himself onto Skwisgaar, nestling his legs between his, lips on his again. The Skwisgaar watching himself finally got a signal through, but it came through without proper decryption. He pushed up into the kiss in an act of defiance but it had the opposite effect. Pelle continued more passionately and Skwisgaar was lost in the whirlwind of familiar touches.
"Tell me about it." Pelle said as he moved a hand down, unbuttoning Skwisgaar's jeans.
"About what?" Skwisgaar panted as Pelle's fingers brushed below his navel.
"About this." Pelle's hand slipped below his waistband and smoothed the tip of Skwisgaar's sensitivity before wrapping around it firmly to have it pulse in his palm. "Tell me about it all. The money, the fame," He stoked him up and down gently. "All of it."
The messages Skwisgaar sent to his body were completely rewritten en route. Instead of pushing Pelle away, he held his shoulders like he used to. Instead of backing off, he arched his hips into his grip like he used to.
"Why do you want to hear any of that?" Skwisgaar said between heavy breaths.
"Because it's so hot." Pelle's hand slid around more quickly. "Remember when we used to dream of it? We were going to be stars, together."
Toki watched in silent shock. Was this even Skwisgaar? Or a doppleganger like the time Charles had gotten them body doubles?
The punishment hole had disappeared and left something just as horrifying in its place. Toki was trapped again. He'd stayed way too long to announce his presence now.
'This is really fucked up, right?' The Other-Toki watched on with him in morbid fascination.
Knubbler had banned phones from the Studio as they made a tapping sound through the speakers just before receiving texts and calls, so Toki nearly lept out of his skin when his Dethphone buzzed in this pocket. That was it! He ignored the text from Nathan asking where the hell he'd gotten to. Holding his other hand against the screen to shield the light, he messaged the only person any of them trusted with these sorts of situations, although they would never admit it.
Pelle licked at the Champagne on Skwisgaar's neck all the way up to his ear lobe. "I can hear it in your music, you know. I can hear us." He whispered. "This Album, tell me you were thinking of me when you wrote it."
"I," Skwisgaar felt the false words catch in his throat.
"Say it." Pelle pulled Skwisgaar underneath him. "This is your only chance, so say you were thinking of me." He looked straight into his eyes.
"I… I wasn't." His honesty broke through enemy lines.
"Yes you were. I know when you're lying. It's right there, in the twin lead. That's us."
"Nei, it's not." The axe of truth shone bright with righteousness as it charged into the fray.
"More lies, little Falcon. Who else could you have been thinking of? Who do you have that much passion for?"
The axe came down and Skwisgaar surrendered himself willingly to it. He let it cut a single name from his tongue, "Toki."
Toki's heart stopped for a moment. Did Skwisgaar just say he was thinking of him when he wrote the album? Everything he said on the roof top, was true? He really was Skwisgaar's Muse? He didn't believe his ears.
'And you shouldn't, you know he's bullshitting. He always is.' The Other Toki leaned against the Amp wall, now a solid image of his former, muscular self. 'He doesn't truly care about you, none of them do. You know that.' There wasn't any malice in this statement, it was just a fact. But the facts didn't seem to fit reality anymore.
Toki looked out at the disturbing diorama on the other side of the glass. This wasn't the Skwisgaar he knew, but did he really know him at all? Why was he letting this happen? He could have easily pushed this arsehole off him, but he just lay there, dominated and pinned to the couch by some ex-band mate.
How could this douchebag be keeping the god of the guitar down? Didn't he understand who he was messing with? This Album would stand in the vaults of history. It was a masterpiece, the pinnacle of the Genre, of all Metal, of all music. And it was them, Toki and Skwisgaar. Their essence, swirling, chasing, colliding, writhing together, as Twin Lead. How fucking dare this no-name fame chasing dildo think he had anything to do with their masterpiece?!
Toki's hands balled into fists as black flames ignited in his chest once more.
"Why are you still trying to lie to me?" Pelle gritted his teeth and dug his hands into Skwisgaar's shoulders, pinning him to the couch. "I know what I heard. I know you better than you know yourself! No one can take my place in your heart. You're mine!"
"No he's not!" Toki screamed from the isolation booth.
Black fire channelled through his fist as he drew back and connected with the glass. The window shattered and shards fell tinkling to the ground. Skwisgaar's mind grasped at the life line Toki had thrown. It pulled itself up and took control of his body again.
"That's right, I'm not yours." He said and pushed Pelle off him with all his strength. Pelle fell back to the far end of the couch, flicking his stare between the two guitarists.
"Yes you are!" He clawed his way up the cushions into a sitting position. "Do you think that you'd be anything without me? I was the one who pushed you, taught you, nurtured you when no one else would."
"That's bullshit!" Skwisgaar shuffled himself backward to put distance between them. "Dark Star fell, but I kept going, all on my own."
"Oh really? Because I heard you went crawling back to your Mother. Seriously? After all the crap she put you through? It took months for you to keep a meal down after you moved in with us. And who was there for you through all that? Me!"
"That's got nothing to do with anything!" Skwisgaar rebuttoned his jeans as he yelled from the other end of the couch.
"And those bullies at your high school? Who set them straight?"
"High school?! I nearly failed my gymnasium* because you barely ever let me go!"
"That's because I needed to teach you how to play your guitar fucking properly! And that's worked out pretty well for you, hasn't it? Face it Skwisgaar, you owe me."
Skwisgaar stood and looked down on Pelle. "I don't owe you SHIT!"
The large padded double doors swung open as Offdensen burst through, pushing them away with both hands. Four security hoods and two tactical hoods followed him into the room and surrounded Pelle on the couch; The barrels of their assault rifles trained on his head and chest.
Skwisgaar was startled. How had Charles managed to pull this level of Ex Machina? But the relief on Toki's face gave him away.
The head security Hood took Pelle under the arm. "You'll need to come with us."
"Waits." Skwisgaar said, holding up his hand.
All the hoods dipped their barrels and complied with a small bow and a unison of 'Yes, Sire'. The look on Pelle's face was exactly what Skwisgaar was hoping for.
"You know what? As a parting gift, I will tell you what it's like to be this famous." Skwisgaar stepped in close to Pelle. "I've got more money than Switzerland and have more power than all world leaders combined. I'm loved more than life and feared me more than death. There is nothing, NOTHING, I can't have, and nothing I can't do. I don't answer to anyone, not the law, not the label, not the fans, and not to fucking you."
He put both hands on the couch back either side of Pelle's head, trapping him. "But you're right, I'm not a boy anymore. I'm not even a man. I'm more than that, more than you could ever hope to be. I'm more than a Rock Star, more than a King!" He rasped and brought his face right down to Pelle's, holding the stare of those leafy green eyes. "I, am a GOD!" Skwisgaar voice boomed. His words inexplicably reverberated off the sound-proof walls.
He straightened up, "Takes him away." he said and waved his hand in a last show of power. The hoods rushed in towards Pelle, pulling him to his feet and handcuffing his hands behind his back. Pelle thrashed against them but a Taser to his gut stopped the escape attempt. He doubled over, panting in pain.
"You deserve everything that's coming to you." Pelle growled from under his ice blond hair.
Skwisgaar took Pelle's chin in his slender fingers and tilted it up to face him, commanding his complete attention. "So do you."
Pelle growled again and Charles ordered their 'guest' be taken to his new room in the lower levels where instead of a bible next to the bed there was a copy of the Geneva Convention with an appendix that listed all the torture techniques that weren't explicitly banned by it.
Skwisgaar held his head high and proud as Pelle was dragged away, but after the studio door closed he collapsed on the couch again. Sticky and shaken, he put his head in his hands.
Toki found a section of wall without glass shards poking up and vaulted himself over the window sill.
"Is everything alright, now?" Charles asked Skwisgaar; he nodded weakly in reply. Charles adjusted his glasses. "Then we need you cleaned up and back out there."
Toki let out a curse of frustration. "You damns Robot! Cants you see he"
"Ams fine, Toki." Skwisgaar cut him off, "De show must goes on."
Charles studied him for a moment. He gave Skwisgaar a familiar expression of 2 parts concern mixed with 1 part admiration. The night was far from over and they had already had one security breach. He gave a last look to the pair before he left to re-check all the security systems, shutting the great padded doors behind him.
Toki turned to Skwisgaar the moment the doors clicked together. "Who the fuck was that guy?!" He shot point blank and gestured after Pelle.
Skwisgaar kept his head in his hands and stared blankly at the floor. How the fuck would he answer that question? 'That guy' was the spark of his black flame, the well-spring of his first hatred; A hate that was tainted with shame and embarrassment. He had tried to bury it, deep inside, for that reason. But the rage, the betrayal, the hurt Pelle had caused pushed through from his mental grave like tar bubbles. It had made him work harder, be more focused. He had climbed higher than he had ever thought possible. He released the pressure through his guitar and let it gurgle out on stage with whoever would let him play. The moment they got too close, he would move onto the next. Band after Band, like women through his bed. Don't let them in, don't trust them. He would leave them before they inevitably left him. Like Pelle had. Like his father had.
Dethklok hadn't been any different, not in the beginning. With Magnus steering the band, Skwisgaar knew his time with them was limited. Although the label contract Magnus managed to secure made him stick around longer than he originally intended. He would let his sludgy darkness play out until something better came along.
That is, until Toki came into his life. Toki had his own spark, a new shade of black flame burning inside him. Something cleaner, darker, purer, and definitely more potent than his; and that had terrified Skwisgaar. He doubled down on practice and chased after Technical purity, trying to ignore Toki's incredible darkness.
His fret hand faced him palm up, the faded scar running through the middle. Had he really found his own hate that day? Or is that when he started to channel Toki's? After the overwhelming success of their first Album, he started to lose his own fire, his flame, his burning hatred. It got mixed up in contracts, media appearances, and lawsuits. His billions of dollars had smothered it, his women had snuffed it out. He was conjuring ghosts. That's when he started feeding from Toki, from his raw and deep sorrow, from his anguish, from his hate.
The more they fought, the better Skwisgaar's music became. Skwisgaar had deliberately riled him up on more than one occasion, but he hadn't stopped to ask himself why he was doing it. It was just something he did, another addiction. He was subconsciously hurting Toki so he didn't have to rely on his own hurt, the tainted hate from Pelle that still lurked just below the surface of his mind.
That level of honesty was too much for him, too much for tonight, and it would be too much for Toki. Toki was still so fragile, his drinking had gotten completely out of control. He couldn't put any more shit on Toki's plate or he might fall into a bottle and never come out again. Skwisgaar couldn't take another night next to Toki's hospital bed, or worse, on the roof.
"He's nobody." Skwisgaar said, trying to push it all back down.
"BULLSHITS!" Toki threw his fists to his sides, "He's somebody alright."
Skwisgaar covered his whole face with his hands. His fingertips stuck to his eyelids. He pressed onto his eyes and watched the bright shapes dance in his retinas. Why couldn't Toki just let this go? Just for tonight?
"You heard what I said to him. He's definitely a nobody."
"Oh yeah, I heard what you said, and what he said too. Talk back mic was on the whole time." Toki glared at him, expectantly.
Skwisgaar's stomach did somersaults and sloshed the Akvavit about violently. It burned a hole through him like acid, and not the fun kind. Toki had heard it all. He had witnessed the hold Pelle still had over him, the ease at which he had been manipulated. Toki may be able to walk through the walls of his fortress but Pelle, he still held the keys. He had opened him up and left him completely exposed, powerless, again. The whole point to coming down here was to make sure no one could hear them.
"You just had to pick now of all times to finally waltz back into the studio." Skwisgaar said in an exhausted tone.
Toki fell silent. He crossed his arms and turned towards the broken shards of glass around the isolation booth. The other Toki stood inside it, staring back at him, as solid as shadow.
'You witnessed the whole thing and he won't even acknowledge it happened.' The other Toki said. He inspected the broken window pane, 'And after you went to the trouble of saving him, he won't even tell you who you saved him from.' The other Toki mirrored his crossed arm pose.
Skwisgaar lifted his head, "What the fuck are you doing down here anyway? You said you," He cut himself off. He supposed he should be glad Toki could walk in here again, although now he had lost his hiding spot from him. "Fuck it. It doesn't matter."
'Doesn't matter?!' The other Toki smacked his palm on the remaining glass pane. 'We almost had that whip wielding prick, until this self proclaimed God came and fucked it all up for us. Some God. He doesn't even have the power to save himself.'
Bubbles popped in Toki's limbs again and he hugged his arms now instead of crossing them. His hallucination was making a lot of sense. Skwisgaar interrupted his revenge on his father. Toki had pushed himself to come down here, forced his way back into the hole, and confronted this worst demon, only to have his chance at revenge wrenched from his fingertips. Would he ever have another chance? He needed something, something to make up for for losing his revenge.
"Skwisgaar? That guy said there was a Twin Lead in this Album. My Riffs are harder this time. Does that mean"
"Fucks off." Skwisgaar snapped before Toki could finish. He pulled a pack of Marlborough's from his pocket and lit one. "There is only one Lead guitar in Dethklok. What is this Twin Lead shit people think they hear." He rested his head in both hands again and exhaled to the floor, staring at his boots.
Toki turned to face him. The other Toki now stood directly behind the couch, his stare boring a hole into the back of Skwisgaar's skull. 'Told you. Deep connection my arse. Only crazy people think they're special.' He poked a thumb at the Swede, 'And this guy thinks he's really special.'
Toki bit the inside of his lip to keep the lump in his throat from flowing up to his eyes. Even after calling him his Muse, Skwisgaar still couldn't bear the thought that they could be equals. He never truly cared about him, only himself; his status, his music. It wasn't their Album in his mind, just his. He took a last glimpse of the broken glass, the shattered heart of the dragon. Nothing could go back to the way it was. He and Skwisgaar, were done. Toki shook his head in disappointment.
"Fucks you, Skwisgaar." He said and grabbed the half bottle of Akvavit from the table. "Just, Fucks you." And both Toki's stormed out of the studio.
Skwisgaar sat and smoked without lifting his head. He didn't want anyone to look at him, no one could see him like this. He wanted to stay down here with his guitar for the rest of the night. Just down the remainder of Akvavit and pass out on the couch as he had done so many times before. But he didn't have that choice. The launch party was still raging upstairs and he would have to return soon to play his part. Shit, what the fuck was he meant to say to the rest of Hammerstorm? Nothing, he guessed. Charles would take care of it. Charles always took care of them. His manager was right. For the sake of the band, and the Album's successful launch, he needed to clean himself up and get back out there like nothing had happened; The show must go on.
He pulled his hand away from his face with a slight Velcro sound and lifted his head to stub out his cigarette butt. He needed a drink to steel his nerves, but the bottle was gone. Fuck.