Chapter 11-1, Back to Tampa
The medical hood had entered the living room of the Dethkopter sombrely, and simply stated that Charles Foster Offdenson, was dead. He then left as quickly as he had entered, his body in a 90 degree bow the entire way out.
Pickles slumped forward in his chair, Murderface stopped carving his knife into the table and Skwisgaar stared at the floor, arms crossed. Toki was half way through his transition from drunk to hung over and so fell slowly sideways to lay across the couch. Nathan stared at the fireplace for a long time, as still as the air in a coffin.
"Then that settles it." He finally said, completing the conversation in his head out loud. The others looked up as he turned to face them. "I've had this weird feeling for a while now. I don't really know how to explain this, but, I think we'll be safest near the ocean." The others blinked at him. "We can lie low in Tampa. At least we know we still have friends there."
The others wondered if this was true but returning to Tampa seemed as good an idea as any. Although they didn't say it out loud, they all felt a strange comfort from the idea of being near the sea.
The Dethkopter whirled in the damp Floridian night air. The five band members sat in the Kopter's living room with cups of coffee. None of them had slept but they couldn't have, even if they'd tried. The coffee was a distraction. They could stare at the cups instead of looking at each other. The news that Charles hadn't made it had sobered them beyond what any coffee could do.
Within hours of the attack, they were bunkering down at a Krampford hotel subsidiary that Toki owned. Security hoods had cleared out the whole building and the remaining Klokateers were converting the tower into their new base of operations; re-routing security satellite feeds, supply shipments, and their lords' packages from Sky-Mall.
Skwisgaar leaned against the low railing of the expansive ground floor balcony overlooking the bay. Waves from the incoming Pacific tide beat against the rocks at the base of the small cliff the hotel was built on. The moon was close to the horizon, soon it would dip down into the ocean, chasing after the sun which had set many hours ago. This far south it wouldn't rise again for about another hour or so. The ice in his Vodka lemon clinked about and he took a moment to admire the silver light glinting off the ocean's surface. He breathed in deeply and exhaled some of his stress into the salty summer breeze.
Losing Charles was like Dethklok losing a limb, or more accurately, their head. How the fuck would they survive without him? Skwisgaar swirled his drink again. How had any of them survived that attack? Had it been blind luck, or had they really had the protection of the Gods? He supposed, either way, he should be grateful. What was that English expression, about horses and their mouths?
Klokateers worked in monkey chains above him, erecting a huge satellite dish on the roof of the Hotel. They had been flying dark the whole way south with a jammer on all communication devices. Maybe he should call his mother when they were finished to let her know he was alive? News reels of their burning home must be invading every television set on the planet by now. Usually, Charles would organise a media black out, but…
"Of course thisch was an inside job!" Murderface's voice carried out to the balcony from the open doors of the hotel lounge bar. "Someone fucked usch over. Someone close."
The three Americans sat in armchairs with glasses of bourbon while Toki lay on the couch clutching a cold mug of coffee to his chest, staring up at the ceiling.
"Why would any one of 'em do that?" Pickles said as he rapidly flicked through the Hotel bar's in house TV channels, cringing at what passed for programming in Florida these days.
"Well we won't know exachtly why until we figure out who it was." Murderface refilled his glass of bourbon from the bottle on the coffee table in front of them.
"An' how would we figure out who it was unless we knew why it happened? Look, just leave it to-" He stopped suddenly. Each of the band mates let their gaze fall to the floor and silently finished Pickles's sentence with 'Charles'.
"It's up to us now." Nathan said, "We have to be the ones to figure this out." He called Skwisgaar in from outside and made them all sit around him like the detective in the parlour of an Agatha Christie novel.
As a group, they went through everyone they knew who was at the party and vigorously debated the probability of that person's capability and motives for attacking them.
"What about Knubbler?" Nathan was working through a list he had written on the Hotel stationery.
"No way. Yer should have seen his face when I handed him the bucket o' Puked-up Master." Pickles said, "He had as much to lose from that attack as the rest of us."
Nathan scratched a line through Knubbler's name.
The hoods had taken the spare guitars out of storage on the Dethkopter, so Skwisgaar leaned on the arm of the couch Toki lay on and plucked away. Playing his guitar calmed his nerves, though his hands still felt stiff from wielding one as a weapon only hours ago.
"Roy barely schpoke to usch all night?" Murderface said, his chin on his fist in the 'Thinker' pose.
"Do you blame him? With that smokin' hot new wife o' his? Probably trying to stop her disappearing upstairs with Blondie here." Pickles poked a thumb at Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar scoffed; that explained the distraction with his son.
Toki stared blankly at the ceiling, ignoring the talk around him. He had washed the blood from his face, but it still clung to his shirt, mixing with the singe marks across his chest where the beam had fallen.
Skwisgaar ran through a set of scales. He and Toki hadn't passed a full sentence between each other since the studio. Gods, he hoped he would have the grace to just let it go and never mention it again. He'd put that arsehole in his place, so in Skwisgaar's mind, there was nothing left to talk about.
Nathan scratched a line through Roy's name. He tapped the pen on his notepad. "Actually, Skwisgaar, who was that douchebag you did disappear with?" He asked. Skwisgaar's fingers froze, jarringly stopping half way through the bar.
"Neij. He ams a nobodys." He shook his head, desperate to deflect the conversation elsewhere.
"Really?" Nathan narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. "Because you turned as white as your cum-crusted blanket when he rocked up."
Skwisgaar propped his guitar against the couch arm, then tried to casually grab a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table. "Forgets him. He ams definentlys a fuckings nobody." He said, but his deflective body language had already revealed his lie.
"Bullshit, blondie. Spill it." Pickles said, mirroring Nathan's movements by leaning forward in his chair and holding his chin.
"Likes Nathan said, he ams just some douchebag." He lit the cigarette and spluttered as the soot already taking up real estate in his lungs jostled against the smoke. "Just some douchebag from de old days, tries to ride my coats tails." He threw away the comment and attempted another draw on his cigarette.
"He tried to ride more than your coat tails." Toki said pointedly from the couch, still staring at the ceiling.
"Nope, no snow speak. No more fucking secrets." Nathan slammed his notepad onto the side table. "We don't know who we can trust right now, but if we can't trust each other," he looked straight at Skwisgaar, "then we're dead too."
Skwisgaar's jaw clenched as his mind raced. How could he sum up their history together? Lover, teacher, abandoner? The only person he had ever let see the real him? Someone he had trusted and then was rewarded with the deep cut of betrayal? That's what you got for letting people in, and now Nathan wanted him to do the same with Dethklok.
He glanced at Toki who was now looking straight at him instead of the ceiling. His expected, knowing stare pieced him, like an X-Ray. Was he waiting for Skwisgaar to tell them everything that happened in the studio? What fucking good would that do? He crossed his arms against Toki's burrowing gaze.
"He ams just an ex-bands dildo. Someones from Sweden I didn't thinks I woulds ever see agians. He ams a nobody." He finally said.
Pelle couldn't have had anything to do with the attack. He just wanted his cut of Skwisgaar, like everyone else at that party; and he'd almost gotten it too. The bar air-conditioner sent a gust of air towards him; the feeling of Pelle's breath brushing his neck. He turned away from Toki and the rest of the band.
Toki's moustache twisted. 'This is bullshit.' The Other Toki said to him as he took murky shape behind the couch. 'He won't even give us a name.'
"I'm still not buyin' it." Pickle shook his head.
"Especially since he said he was your guitar teacher." Nathan shot at him.
"Pfft. He was only de first, I had others afters dat. So whats?" Skwisgaar aggressively flicked the ash from his cigarette, obviously uncomfortable.
"'So what?!' Holy shit, dood!" Pickles pointed at Skwisgaar with his full hand. He thought back to his first music teacher in high school and what Mr. Green had meant to him. "He basically moulded the foundation of your playing today. That's not some 'nobody'. That's a deep connection."
'They don't know the fucking half of it.' The other Toki said.
Toki rolled his eyes in agreement. He sighed quietly to himself. Skwisgaar had been his first teacher and a rotten one at that. He never understood his obsession with scales; he knew where the notes were, so why keep proving it to himself? Toki had always just listened to songs, and then played them as they sounded. Easy. Why did Skwisgaar always have to make things so fucking hard.
Pickles took out his Dethphone. "Isn't he th' new vocalist fer, fuck, Hammer-somethin'?" He said and tried to look it up. "Damn. The receiver still aint up. Can't those guys work any faster?" He threw his phone onto the coffee table.
"Just moves on. He ams nots be matterings." Skwisgaar said, his English eroding as his anxiety increased.
'Doesn't matter.' The Other Toki leaned over the couch back to look at Toki. 'That's his answer to everything. Does anything actually matter to him? You know, other than his guitar, his hair and his cock.'
Toki smirked; he was actually starting to like this part of himself. He thought hard. The douchebag was from Dark-Star, Skwisgaar's first band. Skwisgaar had mentioned him, drunk on the stairs over a year ago. What the hell was that guy's name again?
'You had the same name.' The Other Toki leaned on his subconscious and it popped into his head.
"Pelle." Toki said absentmindedly. "He ams Pelle, froms Hammerstorm."
Nathan said the name phonetically as he wrote it on his list, underlining it twice.
Toki shifted his head to look at the Swede. Skwisgaar's left eye ticked as he stared at the name written in Nathan's chunky handwriting. He looked like he would tear down the entire hotel to not hear it again.
"And he taught you guitar, eh?" Murderface said, smiling a malicious smile. "Scho… that means he's better than you?"
"Fucks off! I was sixteen year olds den, it was ams de basics. No ones even comes close to mes now."
'Bullshit! You Rocked all his parts in Thunderhorse.' The Other Toki said. 'You're not sixteen anymore either. Only a few hours ago you nailed the whole set list for the hard-as-fuck new album, and you were still pretty drunk.'
A small clump of black magma turned in Toki's gut. His other self was right. This album had been different. His parts had been more technical, more challenging than anything before; as complex to play as the lead.
"No ones comes close, huh?" Toki swung his legs quickly over the side of the couch to sit. The others almost jumped from his sudden movement. "Then whys everybodys askings abouts the twin leads this album?"
"There amnst a twin leads." Skwisgaar said slowly, punctuating each word in threat.
"Reallys? Then why everyones says it is?" Toki said, glaring at Skwisgaar. "Even Pelle saids so."
"Hang on," Nathan pointed his pen at Toki. "You were talking to that guy too?" He said, raising an eyebrow.
"Nots really. More likes, listening." Toki said not taking his eyes off Skwisgaar.
Skwisgaar's eyes narrowed. Fucking childish arsehole. If Toki thought he could bait him into recounting one of his lowest moments to the band, he had another thing coming.
'It's right there, in the Twin lead.' Pelle didn't know what he was talking about, none of them did. Toki's hate may have been the source of inspiration for the Album, but it was Skwisgaar's skill and talent that formed and channelled that hate into art. The air-conditioner swung back and another gust pushed past his neck. He bristled.
"Fucks dis." Skwisgaar put his cigarette out emotively and stood to leave the room.
'He's never going to look at you as an equal. Not until you prove to him that you are.' The Other Toki's gaze fell on the Gibson Xplorer resting against he couch arm.
Toki's fret hand twitched. Nathan was about to get up and physically pull Skwisgaar back to them when Toki grabbed the Xplorer. He willingly gave way to his other self, but kept enough control to Co-Pilot. Instrument in his lap, he ran through the lead guitar section for the opening track on the new album. Skwisgaar halted mid-step.
"Stop dats." His shoulders curled forward as his hackles stood up across his back. He snapped his head to glare at Toki. "Dere ams no ways you can plays de leads part."
"Dats funny, because I ams." Toki continued the section into the rest of the song. Pickles and Nathan threw impressed looks at each other and nodded approvingly. "You tell them the truth about Pelle, or I will." Toki added. Nathan went to scold Toki for using Snow Speak but Pickles held out an arm to silence him, letting the scene unfold.
Skwisgaar stepped towards Toki but Toki rose to his full height, defiantly staring up into his face, grasping the neck of the Xplorer.
"The Truth? You know nothing about him." Skwisgaar said through gritted teeth. Toki scoffed and slipped the guitar strap over his shoulder.
"You're right. I don't know him." He took a few lazy steps away, running through the lead part again. "But I know you. And you weren't you around him."
"That's none of your fucking business." Skwisgaar was damn near growling as he stalked back to them.
"It is our fucking business. For once, Murderface is right; someone close fucked us. And it took all of 5 minutes for him to get right up close to you." Toki ran through the next 4 bars. Skwisgaar watched him, shaking with rage. "But if you still feel that way, I'll battle you for it. The truth." He let the last note of the bar ring out its tinny tone. "If I win, you have to tell us who Pelle really is, to you." He said, throwing down the gauntlet.
"Pfft. You won't win, so how do I know you won't just babble the crap you think you know?"
"You don't." Toki said plainly, "It's like Nathan said, we need to trust each other." He began the solo to their closure song tauntingly.
"Stop dats!" Skwisgaar's panic was breaking through. The ghost of Pelle's touch hovered over his chest, the feeling of his lips on his neck, his hips pressing onto his thighs; He had to keep Toki's mouth shut. "Fucks you! Fines, you wants dis? Den I fucking gives it to you!"
He barked at some hoods nearby to get another guitar and some amps; This would be a proper showdown.
Pickles convinced Nathan to just let them get whatever this was out of their system, then they could get back to the matter at hand. Murderface announced he was going to get popcorn for this, and hurried to the industrial kitchen.
The gear arrived. They split, plugged their guitars into their amps and positioned themselves ready for the battle. Murderface returned with a big bowl of buttery-corny goodness and positioned himself on the couch between Nathan and Pickles. They each grabbed a handful. Pickles couldn't help but pick his phone up from the table and hit record; This was going to be epic.
Skwisgaar broke into another of the new album solos. His fingers stretched and darted like alien tentacles over the strings. Toki copied him perfectly and even threw in part of his own flare on the whammy bar at the end - drawing first blood in their battle.
A primal sound came from the back of Skwisgaar's throat. It was a sound from the blackest bog in the darkest part of the forest. The sound of a vile creature awakened after centuries of sleep by the clumsy incantation of an apprentice magician. He cracked the knuckles in his fret hand and the gloves came off. He started shedding in earnest. He didn't think, he only felt, letting his hands run free all over the fret board, moving faster and faster.
Toki's lip snarled and his notes flew after Skwisgaar like an eagle chasing a falcon off a cliff. He chased him onward and upward. Each bird moving higher and higher into the sky as they scratched and pecked and tore at each other. One attacking, the other evading; one landing a blow and the other a counter attack; feathers, blood, talons lashing out at the other. Swooping down then beating their wings hard to gain height, trying to drop on their opponent from above.
Twisting, dipping, darting, bending. Each note a precise and strategic move. They began physically circling each other on the hotel lounge carpet. Claws scratching, razor edged beaks slicing at each other as their fingertips moved on ferocious instinct.
Toki didn't dare take his eyes off Skwisgaar's. He wanted to make him see him, to finally look at him, to feel him. But not like that morning. He didn't want to hold Skwisgaar down, not anymore. This battle wasn't to knock him off his pedestal. Each bar was another grip and pull up the side of the plinth, proving he deserved to stand up there, next to him, as Twin Lead.
Skwisgaar was running at maximum capacity. He side stepped again, trying to throw Toki off but Toki matched his movements without slowing, although there was a slight slide which made Skwisgaar clench his teeth in annoyance. There was only one way to gain back control, the same way he had that morning. He slipped in behind Toki's riff and supported it. He was giving Toki the lead, something he had no idea how to handle.
Toki kept riffing, watching Skwisgaar's pout twitch upward. He was being tested. He threw back his own pout and changed to something much closer to Skwisgaar's heart. The first few bars of Chornobyl Snow pushed hard through the Amp. Skwisgaar started each of his practice sessions with this piece so Toki had heard it hundreds of times over the past few years. Toki curled his fingers into each note, bending and shaping Skwisgaar's melody.
Skwisgaar was almost thrown and had to repeat a bar to center himself. This was his piece, not Dethklok's. It had grown in technical precision as Skwisgaar had grown. It encapsulated his history as a musician, from his shaky beginnings in the Gothenburg house, through to his global acceptance as God of the Guitar. How fucking dare Toki play this piece, of all fucking pieces?! It felt like he had his slippery little fingers inside his guts, poking at his organs.
But Toki took the riff and wrapped it in his own flare; folding in his own essence, his own history. The first time he touched the strings of his fathers old acoustic guitar. Getting his first beat up flying V in Lillehammer, and clutching it close in his bunk at the back of the record store. Busking his way across Florida. Staring at an audition flyer in Tampa. Joining his first band. His first show, his first stadium show, his first tour. His first autograph, magazine cover, and groupie. His first real home.
Skwisgaar was still pissed, but he followed Toki's story through the music, gliding alongside him. They had both escaped their homeland and their pasts to chase the American dream. For all their differences, they always shared that common ground and it kept them close, no matter how hard he pushed Toki away. He began shaping his melody in a new way, through and around Toki's, tying them together.
Their first practice session, and following, their first fight. Their fights in the studio, their fights on the tour bus, their fights at Dimmu Burger. Their fights on the way to the immigration office with Charles. The first time he tried to fire Toki. The last time he tried to fire Toki. The long nights next to Toki's hospital bed. The bitter taste of Akvavit and remorse.
Toki could feel it all. How could Skwisgaar be so sincere in his music but refuse to say any of it in person? He would need to force it out of him, by winning. He sped up, beating his wings harder, climbing higher.
Skwisgaar followed him upward, working hard to get in front of him. He leaned back, supporting his guitar on his hips as he used both hands to shred the high notes of the fretboard. Toki made the guitar strap do its job and pushed it against his thigh. The high notes from both guitars hit the room hard and fast. These last 16 bars would be the decider, they both knew it. Each bird tangled in each other's feathers and claws, hurtling towards the ground. Frantic ripping, eye gouging, blood spurting, then, impact.
They both stopped on the final note, letting it ring out in the amps. The two guitarists looked at each other, panting from effort. Pickles, Nathan and Murderface didn't quite know what they had just witnessed, but all three reached for a cigarette after watching that.
Toki dropped to his knees, lungs heaving, bruise across his chest pounding. He grasped the guitar at the neck and used it to steady himself like a wizard's staff.
"I dids it." He said in a low voice between breaths. "I fuckings dids it." He looked up at Skwisgaar; Finally, he would see they were equals.
A flare of nostrils, a twitch of eye lid, a quirk at the corner of his lips. Flickers of rage, fear, and perhaps a little pride all tried to poke through at different points on Skwisgaar's face. He lifted his guitar strap over his head while a sweat broke over his brow.
"Pfft. You gots faster but you ams still sloppy like de groupies at 3 am." He said and shook his hand as the blood returned to his fingertips; had he been holding the pick that tightly?
"Bullshit! I matches you!"
"No you didn'ts." He picked up his pack of cigarettes and tapped one out, his hand still trembling. "You ams lates on de fourth bar, you missed de openings after de treble and alls I can hears ams you sliding around de strings likes a pig ins shit. Picks up you damn piggy fingers."
Pickles put down his phone and leaned towards Nathan, "Blondie's got a point." He stroked his goatee theatrically. "But did you hear what I heard?" He cocked his eyebrow for dramatic effect.
Nathan leaned into their conspiracy and held his chin in his fingers, "You mean where Skwisgaar came in late to the harmony?"
Skwisgaar's thumb snapped his cigarette in half. He glared at the two self proclaimed 'judges' on the couch.
"And the treble he was talkin' about. Bit loose." Pickles said. Nathan nodded in agreement.
"Hmmmmm" Nathan's deep rumble caused everyone to quiver in anticipation. "Toki's right. I'm calling it a draw."
Toki threw his guitar down, "Ha! Ins you fuckings face!" He stood there expectantly but Skwisgaar's expression did not change.
"Shows what you dildos know abouts guitar." Skwisgaar lit the butt half of his cigarette and walked away towards the balcony.
Toki stared after him still kneeling on the floor; first with his mouth open, then with his teeth gritted. He lifted himself up and followed Skwisgaar to the balcony, deliberately leaving the door open for the others to hear.
Skwisgaar leaned on the low railing once more, cupping his cigarette in his hand to protect it from the sea breeze. His hand was still shaking. Where the fuck did that Toki come from? He hadn't been there for practice or even for the show in the desert. This feeling, he'd had it once before, Some Time Ago…
"Heys!" Skwisgaar heard Toki's voice join the current of air rushing past his ears. "What the fuck are you doing? You still have to tell us who Pelle really is."
Skwisgaar flinched at Pelle's name. He could feel Pelle's hands again, crossing his neck, his chest, his navel. His gut clenched and the smoke became vile on his tongue. He flicked the cigarette butt and it fell for a full three seconds before hitting the water.
"There's nothing to tell. You didn't win." He said, watching the dark waves where the butt had landed.
"You didn't win either." Toki said flatly.
The others stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching on.
"Last chance, or I'll tell them." Toki said still looking at the back of Skwisgaar's head.
Skwisgaar held the rail to still his hands. He twisted his palms around it and tried to calm himself by staring at the moon on the sea's horizon. Toki had been there, the entire time. He had heard what Pelle said, seen what he did. What was left to tell? Pelle's lips ghosted over his.
"Why in the nine realms are you doing this?!" Skwisgaar smacked the railing with his open palms and turned to face Toki. "What the fuck do you want from me?!"
"Honesty." Toki threw his hands up in exasperation. "All I want from you is some fucking honesty."
Skwisgaar was shaking with anger. They didn't need to know about Pelle, about any part of his past. He wouldn't even know how to put it into words, never mind English words. He hadn't spoken to anyone about it, not even band therapist Dr. Twinkletits. He imagined the on-going ridicule from the rest of the band, the jokes and taunts; constant reminders of him. He wanted Pelle as dead in his head as he was in reality. Telling the others what happened in the studio made it real, made him live on.
"Scho, someone want to explain what that was all about?" Murderface asked, obviously chuffed with Skwisgaar's almost defeat.
Toki waited a few more moments, giving Skwisgaar the chance to speak before lowering his head in disappointment.
"If it was someones close to us whats did this, then I don't thinks anyone ams closer to Skwisgaar than thats guy." Toki said.
The others exchanged surprised looks; Then why had they never heard of this guy before?
"Damn its, Toki! Whys you do this shit?!" Skwisgaar smacked the rail so hard it made a low twang. "I'm not your fucking Toy box! You can't open me up and play around with what's inside whenever you want."
"I amnst doings nothings! You ams the ones whats won't answer a simples question." Toki said, switching the conversation to English so the others could bare witness.
"It amnst fuckings simple!" He ran his hand through his sooty hair as he paced across the balcony. "It doesn't matter anyways, we can'ts interrogates him. Dere ams no way he mades it out of de dungeons alive."
The others adopted querying looks at the word 'dungeon'. What the fuck was a label mate doing in the Mordhaus dungeon? Charles would never have allowed that. Unless he put him there?
'There it is again! 'It doesn't matter.' Your manager's been murdered and everything you had just went up in flames, but 'It doesn't matter'? Fucking make it matter.' The Other Toki said.
"Ok, I makes it simple then," Toki scowled, "You still his 'little Falcon'?" He asked mockingly.
Skwisgaar took a step toward Toki and punched him right across the jaw. He stood, breathing heavily, dumbfounded by his own action; his arm had moved on instinct. He hadn't expected Toki to fly back that far, he really had lost so much of his body mass.
Toki fell backward and Murderface ran to catch him under the arms. Nathan and Pickles stood shocked. What the fuck did Toki just say to get sucker punched out of nowhere? They knew the little guy had a real knack for pushing Blondie's buttons, but Skwisgaar didn't look pissed, he looked… scared.
Toki held his face in one hand. 'Oh, it's on.' The Other Toki said and grabbed his controls. Black fire swelled and lit every vein as if his blood were oil. He rushed at the Swede and hit Skwisgaar square in the gut. If he wouldn't honour the agreement of their guitar battle, he'd just have to deal with a real battle instead.
"Who de fucks ams he!?" Toki bellowed as Skwisgaar bent in half. "You acts like a littles girly Bitch around him." Toki went in for a second punch but Skwisgaar countered with a strike to his chest. It added to the bruising from the beam and Toki took a few steps back.
"Shuts de fucks up! I amnst no girl!" Skwisgaar yelled back, holding his middle.
"Yeah? Then whys you punch likes one?" Toki said, hand on his chest, panting.
Skwisgaar growled, stepped up to Toki, and went for a second swing. Toki dropped his head and shoulder barged Skwisgaar backward into the railing.
"Who the fucks ams he?!" Toki screamed so loud the hoods working above stopped momentarily.
"He ams fucking nobodys!" Skwisgaar yelled back right into his face.
"Lier! Emily called me 'Pelle' and you losts you shit! It didn't have nothings to even dos with me, dids it? Yous fucking phsycho!" He swung at Skwisgaar's face, connecting with his jaw. "I quits de band over dat!"
"He did what?" Murderface asked but Nathan shrugged, he didn't know anything about it.
Skwisgaar spat blood. "No, I fuckings fiereds you!" He grabbed the front of Toki's shirt and almost lifted him off the ground as he pushed him over a meter away. "You took hims name just to piss me offs! Wells it fuckings worked!"
Toki righted himself and secured his footing. "If he ams a 'nobody' then whys you gets pissed off? Huh? You makes no fuckings sense!" He ran at Skwisgaar again but the Swede caught him. They locked each other in place, neither yielding nor relenting. "You hates that guy but yous lets him do what ever he wants to you, like some groupie sluts! Why?!" Toki Pushed hard making Skwisgaar falter, knocking him against the low railing again. Toki took two hand fulls of Skwisgaar's shirt. His eyes were damp and angry as he looked up at him. "You ams fuckings better than thats shit."
Skwisgaar stared back into those winter sky eyes. The guy who couldn't save himself, had saved his arse, literally, from a monster that had stalked him for a decade. If Pelle had been bigger than Skwisgaar, or at least stronger, he might not feel such overwhelming shame from the rescue. But Pelle had kept him down with nothing but the weight of his words.
The satellite receiver clunked on at the top of the tower and the bar TV Switched to a news helicopter view of Mordhaus in flames. They had already lost everything this night, he wasn't losing his last shed of dignity as well.
Skwisgaar held Toki by the shoulders. "Why was you even down there? You saids you would never be goings back."
Toki's lip quivered and his eyes narrowed. He was cornered.
"Comes on, it ams a simple questions? Right?" Skwisgaar said, taunting him with his own logic. "De album was ams done, so whats was you doings in de studio?" Toki remained silent, staring up at the swede's rapidly swelling face, desperately searching for a move that would get him out Check. Skwisgaar's pout returned to his face and quirked at the edge. "Fines. You really wants to know who he ams?" He scoffed and leaned his head in close to Toki's, dropping his voice to a menacing whisper. "Fuckings nobody."
Toki screamed raw rage at him. "I fucking hates you!" His fists clenched and pulled Skwisgaar down. He slammed the swede's head right into his own, smashing his way out of Check-Mate. Murderface couldn't have head-butted him better.
"Enough!" Nathan boomed and went to separate them, but it was too late.
Blood streamed from Skwisgaar's nose. He grabbed onto Toki's shirt trying to stop himself from going over the railing but physics were not on his side. All he could see was moonlight as he fell. There was no feeling of weightlessness, in fact, quite the opposite as his back hit the surface of the water below him. It was like hitting a sheet of glass and all remaining air was forced from his lungs as his rib cage compressed further than it should. He was still clutching fabric as the water's tension gave way and swallowed the two guitarists whole.