10-4 Black Fire within us
Toki could feel the hot up-draft of air before he felt the pounding blood in his temples. His stomach told him he was upside down and it was about to use the gravity assist to push the Akvavit out of him. He opened his eyes a little but the heat dried them quickly before he could focus. The distinctive sound of Nathan's grunting finally made it to his ears. Nathan was moving them up an escape ladder, taking two steps at a time and jumping his right arm up while using his left to hold onto Toki over his shoulder. Toki closed his eyes again; The jerking was not helping his stomach situation.
Wasn't he sitting in his room with half a bottle of Aquavit? The vile taste of betrayal curled around his mouth with every sip. Fucking Skwisgaar. He'd saved him from that douche bag and he would even say who that douchebag was, never mind be grateful for the rescue. After everything they had been through, Skwisgaar still wouldn't be honest with him. Usually, he would love to see that arrogant pouty prick brought down a few pegs, but listening to the smallness of his voice, the way he just let himself be taken over, that wasn't fun. Toki had taken no joy in Skwisgaar's legitimate pain and anguish.
No one treated Skwisgaar like that, no one but him. He was going to have the hoods torture an explanation out of their prisoner, tonight. Bottle in hand, he marched out of his room and towards the underbelly of Mordhaus. The walls shook but he dismissed it; probably just Murderface deciding that an impromptu Nascar Race, indoors, would impress Roy. But as he reached the hall before the stairs to the dungeon, smoke rolled over him. Not cigarette smoke. It smelled like when he had left the glue gun on and it had singed one of his model planes. The smell of the wood, plastic, and adhesive all burning together. Then a crack from above, and everything went dark.
They jumped up another rung and a little bit of vomit made its way into Toki's cheeks. Only then did he realised they were going up the ladder instead of down. He opened his eyes despite the heat and saw a skirmish of Hoods against a militia of what looked like fans. Except they had the same green eyes as the zombies from Slaughter Fest.
'Not these fuckers again.' The other Toki said from just inside his eyes.
'You're still here?' Toki said. The Akvavit had beaten the other Toki down, given him less control, but Toki only had to mentally step aside for a split second for him to snatch the wheel of his consciousness.
'Good thing too. Looks like you'll be needing me. Remember, I'm the only one truly looking out for us.'
Toki spat the contents of his mouth at the zombies and watched as it hurtled towards the ground. He was either too drunk or too sober for this shit.
Nathan reached the top of the Dragon. He had hurtled through the halls and rooms of Mordhaus, screaming Toki's name. Then, there he was, pinned under a fallen beam. He had scooped him up and a path had opened through the smoke, as if by magic, guiding him out of the Haus. He had lept through a broken window into the side of the courtyard. Above them, the tactical hoods flew to the front lines where servant hoods were facing off with what looked like regular Jack-offs. But there was something odd about them, something intense. They seemed determined, relentless, and their eyes glowed toxic green. Worst of all, they were headed straight for him. A missile took the head off one of them and Nathan watched as it skidded and stopped next to Mordhaus, right next to his next escape path. He ran to the maintenance access ladder and began to climb, Toki still slung over his shoulder, up and away from the battle.
When they reached the top, he lay Toki on the wooden cladding and looked down at the skirmish. "We'll be safe here." He said, more as an affirmation to himself than as an assurance to Toki.
Toki's throat was dry and raw from smoke and heat. He really needed a drink. The feeling of hard glass in his fingers registered in his brain. White knuckled, he was still holding the Akvavit bottle. He pressed the bottle opening to his lips, almost chipping a tooth in his haste. Nathan's rumbling voice rolled over him like the heat rolling up and over the Dragon's sides. Then he heard another voice, a woman's voice. She stood, in all black leather, with some contraption strapped to her back. A Matrix style kick with her stiletto boot to Nathan's face and he was down.
"You don't know me, but I know you." The woman rasped at him.
Toki thought that this was nothing new. In fact it was downright normal for people as famous as them. He'd run away from exactly that and when he had found a blissful sense of anonymity in Thunderhorse, it had been taken away from him.
Toki shifted from flat on his back to propping himself up on his elbow. The woman's long black hair whipped in the wind, and for a moment, he could remember Emily's face without the acid green eyes. Sitting on her roof, looking out over the city, towards Mordhaus. The city lights were lost up here, saturated by the light of the fire. He should have brought Emily up here when he had the chance. He should have just been honest with her from the beginning. Maybe everything would have turned out differently. Now her great icon was burning; mortal; dying. Coming to join her.
Nathan righted himself and grabbed the woman, restraining her. "What do you want you crazy broad?" He said, not letting her wiggle out of his bear hug.
"I'll show you what I want." The woman said in an accent Toki knew and hated; Few people know about the NAZI occupation of Norway.
She turned and Nathan was suddenly in mid smooch with the German woman. This sobered Toki up quite a bit, but not as much as when she pulled away and kneed Nathan right in the nethers. The strange gun flung over her shoulder and she pointed it directly at Nathan's crotch. It had what looked like the claw from a toy-grab arcade game at the end of the barrel, and she was about to claim her prize.
'No fucking way!' The other Toki screamed at her. Toki was on his feet before he even knew he was standing, the glass bottle still clutched in his fingers. His legs took a few precise strides towards her and brought the bottle down on her head. It made a satisfying smashing sound that ensured she wasn't getting back up.
"Takes that, you German whore!" The other Toki said through his lips, "Takes that."
A deep rumbling emanated from the other side of the Haus. The distinctive grind and whine of the Dethkopter powering up. There was no way it could fly over this fire, the updrafts would completely destabilise it. They had to get back onto the ground, through the fighting, and away from Mordhaus. Nathan pulled himself up, cupping himself delicately with one hand.
"Come on, Toki." He said pushing through the pain, "We gotta go, now."
Toki just stood there, staring down at the woman. There was an explosion from the back of the Dragon's head. Pieces of splintered wood and rivets showered over them.
"Fuck this!" Nathan scooped him over his shoulder again like the fireman he needed to be. Toki folded in two like a rag doll and they started back down the Ladder.
Pickles jogged through the main hall as fast as he could with the Master record sloshing about in his stomach. Skwisgaar ran in front of him, his guitar held over his shoulder ready to come down on anyone who came too close. The heat from the flames dried their eye balls and the smoke made it impossible to take more than a quarter of a breath.
Inelegantly spluttering, they made their way to where the great oak doors were crumbling in embers, half open with people pushing each other to get out. There was no hierarchy here, no one cared that they were members of Dethklok. No one was giving up their place to let them through first. They looked to the entrance to the Haus kitchen on the other side of the room; there were secret exits throughout Mordhaus, some even the Hoods didn't know about. Skwisgaar tightened both hands around his Xplorer. Black fire crackled through his fingers as he strode into the ocean of green dots that lay between them and escape.
Pickles followed the blonde fury as he clobbered, smacked, and beat a path for them. He was coughing again and had to focus on keeping the master record down. Body packing songs wasn't as simple as he first imagined.
They made it to the kitchen and pushed open the door. The air inside was cleaner by comparison and the fire hadn't penetrated this room yet. This twist of irony was missed by the two musicians who legged it across the tiles, flung open the walk in pantry doors and pushed the wall at the back aside to reveal a sodium-lit tunnel.
They followed it outside, and as the night air hit them, they could hear the distinctive chop-chop-whoosh of the Dethkopter. This was also why they didn't hear the faint electric whirring coming up behind them. The distinctive cock of the shotgun caught their attention though, and they froze like rabbits.
A man they vaguely recognised, sat in an electric wheelchair. The matte black of the double barrel shotgun laying across his lap did not reflect the fire, as if it were sucking in the light around it.
"This is the end." He said and pointed the gun at the two musicians.
Skwisgaar's blood turned to ice. After all of it, saving the master, beating up douchebags, breathing in fire; after all of that he still wasn't worthy of the Gods' protection.
"We're Dead." He said succinctly. What else was there to say? He'd broken his promise to Nathan, he had failed to protect Pickles or the Album. Their legacy, their masterpiece, would die here.
Pickles held a hand to his protruding stomach filled with the collective imprint of their bare souls. At least he would be taking the band with him to the afterlife.
"Skwisgaar, before we die, I have to tell you something." Pickles looked at him with tears forming in his eyes.
"Yes, my friends?" Skwisgaar asked, knowing Pickles's words would be the last he'd ever hear.
"I did it. I fucking did it. I Sucked my own cock last night." The soot from the air mixed with his tears to cause a thick muddy stream to fall over each cheek. He pulled himself up and pushed his shoulders back, "I can die now." He stared straight down the barrel of the shot gun.
Skwisgaar looked to Pickles with the reverence of a Sage. The drummer had achieved so much, had lived so much longer, with more life. When he said he could die now and be content with it, he meant it. Pickles had a belly full of their greatest art where as Skwisgaar was only filled with regret.
He was the fastest guitarist alive, he had more money than he could count, he took princesses, super models and movie stars to his bed; and none of it could help him get Pickles out of here alive. He had hit the high score in all his endeavors, and in the end, it meant nothing at all.
The guitar slipped from his hand and hit the earth with a thud he didn't hear. He hoped that Nathan had found Toki and was carrying him like a football the hell away from here. Nathan was the best protector Toki could have, unlike him. At least he wouldn't have to face Nathan's scorn over losing the Master and getting both himself and Pickles killed.
Time slowed and the heat from the fire burned like the cold snow of Danzig. Had he been so calm back then? As accepting of his mortality as Pickles was right now? He remembered his promise to meet Toki in Valhalla and extended it to the whole band. Horns of mead would be clinking together in the great hall soon. They could play music together for eternity, not for the fame, the money or out of contractual obligation - they could play for the sheer joy of it, until the Ragnarok.
He cleared his mind and paid attention to his senses, determined to take in as much of this mortal realm before departing it. The firelight dancing as it devoured the dragon; Raw, rasping smoke filling his lungs; The sound of the Dethkopter, its great engines whining and grinding, preparing for flight. Each second stretched on into a millennium as he recorded every detail.
But his finality did not come. The guy in the wheelchair was hesitating. His chest rose and fell sharply like he was psyching himself into pulling back on the trigger. Shadows moved on the outskirts of Skwisgaar's vision, darting swiftly towards them.
Black hoods charged at the mechanical menace, bursting out of the flames like demons from Hell. The cloth covering their faces protected their mouths and stopped the soot from clogging their lungs. They sprang forth and came down on the man in the wheel-chair without any regard for his disability but with plenty of regard for the shot gun he had pointed at their masters.
Nathan steadied himself on the ladder with Toki slumped over his shoulder like a ragdoll cat, occasionally muttering to himself in Snow speak. He gripped Toki by the back of the thighs and jumped one vice-grip palm down the rungs. Metal creaked and the fixtures threatened to give way at any moment. The ladder would last another minute, maybe two? Nathan felt a small pang of guilt for leaving the woman up there to die, she had no chance of escape now.
"Such a shame she was so hot." He said more to himself than to Toki but the floppy mannequin found enough English to tease him about it.
"You only figured that out now?" Toki said "All the hot ones am crazy. All the ugly ones too." He gave a small laugh.
Nathan gave a single grunt chuckle. That was the only laugh of the evening, and it was Toki who caused it. Of course it was. No matter what the circumstances you could always rely on Toki to make you laugh, especially when he didn't mean to. Those stressful moments on tour, when all you want to do is crush the windpipes of all your band mates and up comes Toki with candy stuck in his hair and he doesn't even know it. Instantly, everyone backstage is in stitches. It was never like that with Magnus in the Band. Nathan knew, without Toki being the butt of all their jokes, pulling them together, the band have fallen apart long ago.
'Seriously? You're going to let yourself be carried around like a baby?' Toki stared at his imaginary self sliding effortlessly down the creaking ladder below them. 'He's only doing this to show off, you know. To make himself the Hero. None of them really care if you live or die, you're 100% expendable.' Toki's guts rolled about uncomfortably.
Nathan used gravity to fall onto the next rung of the ladder and caught himself with his one free hand, re-balancing Toki's weight to keep him secure. He was lighter than Nathan remembered and he could feel Toki's ribs poking into him. When was the last time they had had a workout session together? How had he not noticed earlier? The reek of that Scandi poison was all over him. No, he had noticed, he just hadn't said anything. Toki had been too drunk to come to the gym, or to Dimmu burger, or even to shower (unless they threw him in there). If Toki kept drinking like this he was going to end up dead, or worse, in Rehab.
"I'm only going to say this because you're so drunk you won't remember and you won't tell on my for giving a shit about your life." Nathan grunted as he fell another rung. "But, man you've been fucking way too drunk lately."
It didn't feel like a weight had been lifted from his chest, because that weight was made of Toki's legs, but the honesty was still relieving. Liver transplants weren't fun and he didn't want to see Toki end up like him. He wanted better for their little goofball.
Toki's face squirmed a little on his back. He knew Nathan didn't know the reasoning behind his breakfast Vodka. He'd wake up screaming every morning from nightmares that didn't leave. How was he meant to tell him that he could hear things that weren't there; screams, growls, whispers behind every door. That Hoods passed him by with gunshot wounds to their chest, blood trailing throughout the house. That Nathan's own green eyes glowed like the bastards trying to kill them now, then faded out, just like her's had.
'He'll think you're crazy.' His most recent hallucination said. 'He'd drop you like a sack of shit, say you're not worth saving. All of them would. None of them really care.'
"Then why would he say it?" Toki mumbled back. His drinking wasn't hurting Nathan, why would he mention it? Why save him now? Why not just let him go and save himself? Toki was a burden, so why would it matter if he self destructed? Unless…
"Hey Nathans," He said as they made it to the half way point of the ladder. "The real reasons you tells me this is because… you cares abouts me."
Nathan increased his falling-Catching speed as a hollow warmth swam about in his chest. He had told Skwisgaar multiple times that he's not the only one who cared about Toki, but he had never said it to the little guy himself.
"You cares about me." Toki repeated to himself in a horse whisper. His stomach rolled and Nathan could feel it through his shoulder.
"Oh, Toki, don't do this to me right now, don't throw up." Nathan pleaded, but it was too late. About five thousand dollars worth of Canepes and champagne, and about forty dollars of Akvavit, left Toki's cheeks and headed for the ground at 9.25 meters per second squared.
Heavy boots finally hit the ground and Nathan flopped Toki against the side of the Haus; His back was killing him, he couldn't carry him any more.
"You've gotta stand-up, Toki." He gave the little guy a few slaps on the cheek to bring him back to the situation at hand.
The thudding of the Dethkopter's blades was louder now, it was all warmed up. A green flicker caught the corner of Nathan's vision and he turned to see one of the fan attackers lung for him with a machete. He recoiled on instinct, just as a great mass of fur and claws cross attacked, hitting the assailant in the chest. A yard wolf. Nathan thought they had all literally run for the hills by now, but this one remained. White fangs sunk into the guy's throat, and with one quick shake the green faded from his eyes and red coated his face. Blood covered the wolf's snout and ran down its front like hot pancake syrup.
Toki sat up with outstretched arms. "Hi, girl!"
The creature padded over to him, black-red dripping from her panting tongue. Nathan watched and tried to overcome several millennia of caveman instinct screaming at him to 'fucking run!'. The wolf nuzzeled up to Toki and he gave her an affectionate scratch in her oily, thick coat at the back of her neck. In that moment, Nathan realised that for all his childish bullshit, Toki had the biggest stones out of all of them.
A voice as deep as an earthquake cut through the sound of the battle and he turned. About 50 meters away, Charles was going all Karate-Kid with a guy even bigger than Nathan with a steel masquerade mask covering the top half of his face. His eyes were hidden behind it, but there wasn't a glow like the others. This guy was different, he'd had training, his movements were deliberate and calculated. But, FUCK, so had Charles! When did he learn to fight like this? Nathan wanted to leap up and run to his manager's side, but he knew that if he ran, that wolf would take him down on instinct.
The man with the silver face caught Charles's arm and snapped the elbow the wrong way. Charles would have screamed but he was hit in the face several times by a fist the same size and density as a house brick. A glint of blade was pulled from the man's boot and Nathan pulled every piece of training from his high school football days to sprint in a B-line towards them; at this speed, maybe he could even out run that wolf.
He picked up a flaming beam from the ground and kloked the silver-faced man in the back of the head as he leaned over Charles.
"That's my bread and butter you're fucking with!" Nathan panted as the man fell to the ground like the sack of shit he was.
Charles was just as still but for the little bubbles of blood coming up from his lips. At least he was still breathing. Nathan scanned the area and saw Pickles jostling towards him with Skwisgaar protecting him like a game sprite. They were alive. The relief and happiness that filled him could have filled the Mariana Trench.
Before Skwisgaar could franticly splutter, "Where de fucks ams Toki?!" the yard wolf ran up beside him and brushed his thigh like a shark in the ocean. He actually yelped and pickles nearly pissed out the Album when he saw the blood drenched wolf.
"You's all such scardy cats." Toki said to his band mates as he staggered up behind the wolf and ran both hands affectionately through her fur.
"Thank the Gods." The tension in Skwisgaar's chest released on sight of Toki, alive and seemingly unharmed. All he wanted to do was grab onto the little dildo and squeeze, but 185 pounds of teeth and hair stood between them that he was not going to challenge for his affections.
Toki gave Skwisgaar a cold look as he approached slowly, but he ran the remaining few feet when he saw Charles. He knelt beside their manager and started saying something frantic in Norwegian as the Wolf licked at Charles's bloody, swollen face.
"Careful, Toki, we shouldn't move 'im." Pickles said but instantly realised that they didn't have a choice.
The wolf moved around to Toki and nuzzled under his arm. He hugged her, smearing the still wet blood from her snout on his own front and cheeks. No one else dared even flinch. Charles moved his head to the side and his eyes went wide, as if he could see something the others could not.
There was movement in the sky behind Mordhaus and a fortress of steel rose from the flames and blocked the moon. The Dethkopter whooshed across the grounds like a Valkyrie, blades making their deep chop, chop, chop rumble. There was a snarl from the wolf that took hold of each of their spines and shook, but then she turned into a whimper and the wolf broke Toki's grip to sprint away into the hills to join her pack. Toki watched her longingly but then turned his attention to the sky above them. The downward pressure from the blades rushed a Brazilian waterfall's worth of hot air over them and blocked out all noise except Murderface on his bullhorn.
"Heeeey," he bellowed down from the open cargo bay door, "Get the fuck up" He stopped when he squinted down at Charles. He swore to himself then grabbed a ladder and threw himself backward over the edge. The hoods next to him followed. They all hit the ground and rushed to Charles.
Murderface, Toki, Skwisgaar, Pickles and Nathan stood helplessly around their manager, their home in flames behind them. A stretcher was sent down and the medical hoods carefully strapped him into it.
"My lords." One of the Dethsquad hoods gestured to the ladders and each of them clung to the rails as they were hoisted to safety. They looked down to see the medical hoods attending to Charles mid air. The band scrambled over the side and hugged the walls to allow for the gernie to be lifted up and over the edge.
When the wheels hit the cargo bay floor, hoods and random party guests split like the red sea as it was rolled away at the sprint to the on-board hospital ward. No one spoke. The other Toki stood at the edge of the cargo bay. He turned to face Toki, looking him straight in the eyes. He wasn't going away anytime soon.
Toki dropped to the floor, sitting awkwardly, chest hunched forward and both legs straight out. He wiped his bloody hand across his bloody face making the smears on both worse instead of better. He looked up to the rest of the band, with little streaks of clean running from his eyes, down through the blood over his cheeks. Pickles careful sat next to him, cradling his gut like a pregnant woman, and Toki tilted his head to lean on his shoulder. The band clumped together and sat in a row at the centre of the platform, watching the burning dragon become smaller though the closing hatch as they lifted higher into the summer night sky.
Skwisgaar sat on the end of their row. He thought of Pelle trapped below the burning dragon; There was no way he could have gotten out alive. But they had. He had earned the God's protection after all and hoped, with all his half scorched, soot covered being, that this protection extended to Charles.