Little Wing (Mythklok, Chapter 13)
Title: Little Wing (Mythklok, Chapter 13)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dethklok goes to Hell. ‘Nuff said.
Warnings: Slash, AU, F-words, OCs, smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump
This is a Metalocalypse AU which tiktaalikroseae has dubbed “Mythklok.” Here are the other bits, about an angelic visit (Chapter 1), a hunt (Chapter 2), a barbecue (Chapter 3), a ski trip (Chapter 4), a sword fight (Chapter 5), Bette Davis Movies (Chapter 6), a concert (Chapter 7), tall tales (Chapter WTF), a trial (Chapter8), an argument (Chapter 9), a stray cat (Chapter 10), Satan’s shinkansen system (Chapter 11) and the highway to Hell (Chapter 12).
Oh, and these are Lady Raziel’s accounts of Sariel’s adventures in North Africa and Middle Earth.
Oh, and lookit dudes! late_totheparty did arts for Falling Down. It's actually from the Michael Douglas movie, but it's complete awesome and stuff.
What’s been happening: Well, this little arc ended up being a teeny bit longer than I had intended. To begin more or less at the beginning of time: CFO is an immortal angel who used to go by the name Sariel. He sort of wants to forget that bit of his life, due to the fact that it kind of sucked, and now he’s Fallen, and pretty much trapped forever in our even suckier universe. However, recently, supernatural beings, some mischievous, and some malevolent, have been dropping by and making his life even more miserable. At the beginning of this arc, Lucifer invited him down for a visit to Hell, and kind of kidnapped Nathan. So, Dethklok’s lead singer is still down there, drinking beer with a bunch of dead musicians in the burning city of Dis, located in the Fifth Circle. But help is on the way! In the form of Dethklok. Oh, no. And Charles also brought along some reinforcements, including a stoner eagle Kachina named Kwahu, an annoying female Seraph named Raziel, and a Hindu elephant god named Ganesh, the latter being also sort of his boyfriend. Surprised? Well, yeah, so is he.
Little Wing
Not so many years ago….
“So, it’s over.”
“Yeh.”
“I think you could do better.”
“Dood, what did you say yer name was again?”
“Charles Foster Ofdensen.”
“Heh. Yea. What did yoo say yer real name was?”
“What did you say your real name was?”
“Ha, touché,” said Pickles the drummer, grinning over at the douche bag in the suit. He was sort of a cute douche bag, which is why Pickles had continued talking to him even after it became painfully apparent that he was a douche bag. “So, you t’ink I can do better dan Snakes an’ Barrels?”
The man in the suit - OK, Pickles would let him be “Charles” for now - fingered his Scotch glass as if he were twisting it into the table. “I believe, with more suitable personnel, a slightly different musical direction, and, most importantly, a more involved, ah, management team … yes, you could go quite far.”
“SnB had a manager, dood. We went t’rough a lotta managers. And dey usually jist went t’rough a lotta our money.”
“Yes. But I have other, ah, more specialized qualifications I could bring to shepherding your career. You and your new band’s career. Once we get that in place.”
“Other qualifications? What are yoo, a crime boss?”
Charles got kind of a wistful smile. “Well, maybe that’s not too far off.”
“What?”
“I’m a lawyer. You’re welcome to check my credentials. You have my card. And I have some training in financial management as well. But most of all,” and here he turned to look at Pickles, “I could give you more, ah, intense oversight of your career.”
“Intense oversight?”
“Yes. If you’ll forgive me for using a clichéd term, you might, ah, think of me as your guardian angel.”
“My WHAT?” Pickles laughed. But the dude who called himself Charles Foster Something-or-other was just looking into his whiskey glass again and smiling a sort of Mona Lisa smile.
It didn’t take too many more shots of whiskey to get Charles up to his hotel room. It was usually a pretty easy thing for Pickles, though he had to admit, things had slowed down a tad since SnB finally sputtered out.
Charles checked to see that the door was locked, and then immediately began tearing off his jacket and tie. “Whoa, dood,” laughed Pickles, “yer not eager or anything.”
“I’d like to show you something.”
“Dood! I been in a band Ain’t anything I haven’t seen….” But then he went silent.
“Motherdouchebags,” he finally said.
The present day….
Sariel soared uneasily down towards the pits of Hell.
This had seemed like a good idea, back when they were standing in the middle of Wotan’s dining room.
One thing he had always shared with Raziel was a dislike of their respective True Forms. Though, as he’d often told her, at least her monstrous Seraph Form was useful for various things, such as kicking the shit out of people. Instead of a warrior Form, however, he’d been granted gangly little wings that were mostly good for knocking over the good china in tight places. And as for his unusual silvery coloring, the Creator may as well have painted a giant target on his back.
He was following the golden-winged Garuda, mounted with Ganesh and Raziel. Unlike Sariel, the beast seemed to have an instinct for catching the subtlest of updrafts. He was close enough to notice that, despite Ganesh’s concern that she would drop off to sleep again and plummet, Raziel appeared to be having the time of her life, eagerly chattering with the Hindu god and pointing out various things on their descent. Why hadn’t she been awake and eager back when he was being drooled to death by a Cerberus dog?
His thoughts drifted back to the boys, still up on the Road to Hell just outside the Fifth Circle. Another thing that had sounded just dandy in the dining room at Valhalla. They would play a guitar riff, reunite with Nathan, escort him back, and exit just the way they came in. What could go wrong? Except everything. And he should have been there for Nathan. He was the one who got him stuck down here. Going off like this on some stupid vengeance mission made him seem like a douche bag. Which, face it, maybe he was. He sure as hell looked like one in this stupid fucking Form.
The angels and the elephant god alit in a dark section of the road to Hell in the Eighth Circle. Ganesh helped Raziel down from Garuda, and then coaxed the gorgeous creature back into his tiny perfume bottle. Ofdensen, with great relief, reverted to Court Form.
A building that extended all the way to the rim of the Circle blocked the road here. They could hear what sounded like a throbbing dance beat coming from inside.
“They have a disco here?” Ofdensen asked no one in particular.
“I wanna go clubbing in Hell!” Raziel said, pushing inside.
It did indeed look like a club, albeit a rather sedate one. It was extremely crowded, but even though the DJ was obviously throwing down beats, there was almost no one up dancing. Instead the residents milled around, looking bored.
“Hey, it’s just like a club up above,” grinned Ofdensen.
As they moved towards the exit on the other side, however, the milling crowd started to move in their way. Ofdensen noticed that several of the demons among them were wavering from humanoid Forms to rather nastier True Forms, which included tentacles and claws and the like. The party of three retreated, and then they tried to take an alternate route to the door. But were once again cut off in the subtly threatening manner. They tried a third route, and were surrounded and pushed back once again.
They finally assembled around one of the tables in the bar area.
“We could fight our way through,” Ganesh speculated, “but I’m not entirely certain of our odds, and the attention we attract might alert Lucifer to our purposes prematurely.”
“We’re stuck in a discothèque in Hell?” Ofdensen sighed, putting his head on the table. Clubbing, as it happened, was his idea of eternal punishment.
“Perhaps,” said Ganesh. He considered a moment. Raziel had dozed off on his shoulder. He nudged her awake. “Come,” he told her. “Dance with me.”
Raziel blinked at him, dazed. Ganesh was already on the dance floor, and he beckoned to her. “You guys are gonna fucking DANCE?” Ofdensen whispered to her.
Raziel grinned. “Oh hell yeah! Just stay here and get ready to run,” she whispered. She slid off the stool and went out to join Ganesh on the floor. The Hindu god was already swaying to the music, and Raziel was soon following his moves. He pulled her closer - a lot closer - and they continued moving to the music.
Ofdensen blinked and forced himself to look away. It was a bit arresting to see them like that. He noticed that several of the assorted damned souls and demons who had been milling about the club had now joined the couple out on the floor. It was strange: like Raziel, they seemed to be copying Ganesh’s movements.
He jerked back. Ganesh had just tossed his jacket onto the table, and Raziel soon followed, shedding her own coat and tossing it at Ofdensen. More club patrons were on the floor dancing, as Ganesh held Raziel even closer, they only seemed aware of each other. And they continued like this for a few minutes, Ofdensen found himself the recipient of a few more random articles of clothing as most of the other patrons now found themselves out on the floor.
He lost sight of Ganesh and Raziel for a moment, but then he saw the Hindu God pulling her up on a table and they began … well, he wasn’t exactly certain what they were doing could technically be called dancing any more. He shook his head and looked around the club again. The seating area around him was almost deserted as the entire club worth of patrons now seemed to be seething on the dance floor, following Ganesh’s dance.
He looked back to the dance floor, but no longer saw Ganesh or Raziel. But then the wind was knocked out of him as he felt himself jerked back out of his chair. Keeping low, Ganesh and Raziel were sneaking towards the exit at a rapid place.
They pushed out of the door and ran, and remained running until the club was out of sight. They came to a halt, laughing and puffing, and Raziel and Ganesh started to re-don various discarded items of clothing Ofdensen had bundled in his arms.
“Does, uh, does Wotan know you guys go out and dance like that?” Ofdensen asked Raziel, holding out her blouse.
“We don’t always dance like THAT,” she said, snatching it away from him. “My god, that DJ was HOT!” she gushed.
“They appear to have the best quality disk jockeys down here,” agreed Ganesh, buttoning his shirt.
“I wish we could’ve stayed for another number!”
“Yes, ‘tis a pity that we’re in a hurry.”
“Well, I’m pretty fucking SORRY that rescuing a kidnapping victim is interfering with you two going clubbing!” Ofdensen fumed.
“Maybe you could inquire with Dick Knubbler about getting one of these fellows for the reception?” Ganesh proposed.
“Oh, that’s a terrific idea, Ganesh.”
“Ganesh, does being around Raziel just make you fucking nuts too?” Ofdensen asked him.
“Sariel,” Raziel giggled, clutching him by an arm as he cringed. “Ganesh just rescued us from an impossible situation! Shouldn’t you be showering him with praise?”
“Now, Lady Raziel,” Ganesh scolded, “You shouldn’t be so judgmental! Sariel is our leader, so he must keep in mind the ultimate success of the mission!”
“I think he’s being a stick in the mud. By the way, you damn well better teach him to dance or I’m gonna be terribly disappointed.”
“I dance,” Ofdensen groused. “Just NOT LIKE THAT.”
Skwisgaar had his equipment all set at the Gates of Hell.
He was idly tuning his Gibson, getting ready to play the solo of his life.
He looked at the people gathered around the pink Caddy, watching him. He fingered a couple of riffs. And then he took his hands off his guitar and stared back at his audience.
“Ah,” he said. “Maybe it would be best if we ams played with two guitar?”
Toki froze.
“We needs to get dis rights da first times, ja? And what ifs da guitars string breaks?”
Toki blinked.
“Tokis? Ams you comings up here or nots?” demanded Skwisgaar.
Toki dove for his guitar, and soon he and Pickles had him set up and ready to go. Despite his derision of all things associated with physical labor, Murderface may have even grabbed a microphone. Or, maybe not.
“Um,” said Toki.
“What ams it now Tokis?” Skwisgaar snapped.
“We ams broughts da equipments for everybody….” Toki ventured.
Skwisgaar paused and did something very odd. He thought about what Toki had just said. Perhaps it was the heat and smoke.
“Dat’s troo,” Pickles mused. “I got a drum set. We could back ya up, dood.”
Finally, Skwisgaar said, “Maybe dat ams not da bad ideas. You guys ams probably makes me looks good, ja? Except maybes Murderfaces, you ams pretends plays?”
“Yeah, then I won’t have to schet up my ampsch,” the bassist grumbled. Even so, he had already grabbed his bass guitar.
They were peeking over an outcropping, the angels and the god. An entire valley full of demons now lay between them and Satan’s office block in Hell. And it really did look like an office block. Ganesh had thoughtfully packed along some opera glasses, even though Ofdensen suspected he didn’t need them. Why would Lucifer wanna make Hell look like Century City? Unless it was the Century City looked like Hell.
But there wasn’t time for such musing. The road to Hell still wound along the side of the valley, but it looked very disused in this part.
“So close, and yet, so far,” Ganesh noted. “Well, I could give you the loan of Garuda.”
“No. That’s why we didn’t land over there in the first place. I really don’t wanna tip him off that it’s me ‘til the last possible second.”
“So True Form is out,” Raziel concluded.
“Yeah. Look, I hate to ask this, and if it was anybody else but ya know, Legolas and Gimli….” Raziel smiled blondely. “If you guys could manage some kind of diversion down on the plains, I could probably get around the rim pretty quickly.”
Ganesh and Raziel were grinning madly at each other.
“Are you feeling diverting, Gimli?” asked Raziel.
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Ganesh assured her.
“Too bad your father isn’t here!” Raziel told Ganesh.
“Oh, a wager? You realize, Lady Legolas, that I am Oxford-educated, and thus am capable of keeping count as well?”
“Ha! Then it’s on, dwarf!” Raziel laughed.
“Uh, guys? Just make sure you concentrate on, you know, not dying? Before the suave keeping count part?” Ofdensen asked. But Raziel had pulled out a blade she was feinting with, and Ganesh, for whatever reason, was kicking off his shoes and calmly removing his jacket and placing it neatly on some rocks.
“You ready to go, Sariel?” Raziel asked.
‘You’re gonna be OK? Just the two of you?” he asked her.
“We’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s not just the two of us.” And, before he could stop her, she had hopped over the outcropping and landed in the middle of the fields of Hell.
“King Wotan sends his regards!” she shouted, flourishing the sword. Suddenly, every eye on the field was upon her. Ofdensen watched as she tucked her sword under her arm. As dozens of demons started slowly approaching her, she calmly pulled an intricate silver ring off her left hand. She rubbed it between her palms, and it separated into five delicate rings. She cast out each of the rings before her and waved her hand, muttering something as she did so.
The five rings sprouted into five wolves. They were big - even bigger than Geri and Freki, who were monsters. They growled, and snapped, and charged, Lady Raziel behind them, cheerfully shouting and waving her sword.
Ofdensen became aware that Ganesh was staring over his shoulder. He turned.
“Did she begin without me?” Ganesh laughed. He had pulled off his shirt, because he had pulled out an extra set of arms. As well as an extra set of swords, which he irritably twirled with two of his arms. “That is not terribly sportsmanlike!” he declared, waving one of his now many fingers.
“Uh, I guess I should’ve warned you about wagering with Raziel,” Ofdensen said distractedly.
Ganesh grinned, and suddenly grabbed the small of Ofdensen’s back with one of his free hands and kissed him. “I must go!” he laughed, and then he too had jumped onto the field.
Ofdensen stood for a long moment, watching Ganesh’s back, all four arms busily hacking away. For a long moment, he unsuccessfully tried to force his mind to start thinking again. At length, he looked to the horizon, to Lucifer’s offices. He decided to treat himself like a member of Dethklok. OK, from here to there, keep running, kill any demons you meet. Clear? Clear.
He set off, glad that he listened to himself better than his band did.
Dethklok - or 80% thereof - was now set up to play at the Gates of Hell.
“You ams follows me,” Skwisgaar scolded Toki. “AND DON’TS FUCKS IT UPS!”
Toki nodded. He was trying so very hard not to grin like an idiot, as that would not be terribly metal. They had their guitars tuned down as far as they would go. The world would never again hear anything so heavy. Pickles had been nervously playing drumrolls, and Murderface was practicing poses that looked particularly Hellish.
Kwahu, who had tried to fly ahead into Dis several times to scout around for Nathan, had been repeatedly frustrated by the odd updrafts around the gate. He wasn’t exactly certain if it was the fire, or some kind of infernal magic. But he couldn’t say he minded, as he would never in his life get better seats for a Dethklok concert.
They decided to do Hatredcopter, even though it wouldn’t really be the same without Nathan’s growls. Pickles counted off and the cacophony started.
Sometimes when they were playing, especially during the really good gigs, they’d get to feeling like they were actually floating up above themselves, watching from the sky. They didn’t really talk about this much with each other. Despite Dr. Twinkletits’ best efforts, Dethklok weren’t “talk about it” kinda guys. But, that had started happening already. Maybe because the acoustics were particularly good, or because everybody was pretty psyched. And maybe it was because Dick Knubbler had worked his magic with the sound. Come to think of it, maybe he had worked actual magic?
But so it happened, there they were, above the stage, all by the second verse, watching the five of them play on stage.
And it was the five of them. Nathan had joined them. I wasn’t clear how, but there he was, big as life. No, bigger than life! And then finally Pickles sang the last of his verses. It was exhausting to play the fucking drums and try to sing at the same time, but he had put everything into it, and now came the part where Skwisgaar and Toki needed to wind up and take it home. The guitar part started out really crunchy, and then it just went batshit insane. And Skwisgaar just absolutely lost his mind this time. He had never played so fast, or so brutally. And the rest of the band kept up with him, including Nathan’s spirit, who was there to sing the last round of “Hatredcopter hatredcopter hatredcopter hatredcopter….”
In the end, the Gates of Hell simply had no chance against a full frontal assault Dethklok. They didn’t open. The iron went white hot, and then simply melted.
The unfortunately souls who resided in the Burning City of Dis were instantly all gathered around the ruined gate, cheerily waving hook ‘em horns.
“I’m here to see Satan. I don’t have an appointment.”
It was a waiting room in Hell. In other words, it looked very much like a waiting room pretty much anywhere else in the world. There was a scowling receptionist attacking her long fingernails with an emery board, and a room full of miserable souls reading last May’s edition of People magazine.
The startled receptionist quickly went to True Form, which appeared to involve rather a lot of tentacles.
Several of the demons in the waiting room looked up from articles about Prince William and Kate Middleton and appeared to grow restless. Some of them had started flickering, as if they were all about to convert to rather unpleasant True Forms.
Ofdensen flashed his sword and neatly sliced off the receptionist’s head, or at least where her head had been before it was replaced by a Lovecraftian abomination.
The other waiting room occupants suddenly snapped their attentions back to Prince William’s royal romance.
Ofdensen burst into Lucifer’s office. The Morningstar looked up from his desk, smiling a blinding smile.
“Lucifer,” said Ofdensen.
“Sariel,” said the Devil. “Sorry I gotta take-“ but then he was screaming.
Ofdensen had sliced off Lucifer’s Bluetooth. Along with his right ear. “Get off the motherfucking phone,” he growled, his sword point now in Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer stood, throwing over his desk as he did so, and forcing Ofdensen to jump back. “You don’t want to anger me, Little Brother,” he hissed.
“I’m not your fucking Little Brother.”
“No. You’re just little.” Ofdensen noticed that the office had disappeared, and they were standing more or less in the center of the Ninth Circle. The arch of the rocky dome atop Hell seemed as high and far away as Headquarters from down here.
Lucifer grinned his too-tight, bleached grin. “You idiot! You have no fucking idea!” And the blinding grin grew. And grew. And grew. In moments, Satan had grown to a hulking Seraph-sized Form. He laughed, and the ground shook, as Hell literally trembled beneath Lucifer’s feet.
“I will crush-“ he started. But then Lucifer was screaming. Ofdensen had just lit his sword on fire with his cigarette, and then neatly sliced off Seraph Lucifer’s right foot, through the ankle. Lucifer crashed down on his Seraphic ass, writhing in pain and surprise. As the ground shook again, Ofdensen was already running around the Morningstar, trying to duck his thrashing limbs, as Ganesh had taught him to. He climbed some rocks, and leapt off them, coming down square on Lucifer’s face, where he thrust the sword as deep as it would go into Lucifer’s eye.
The screaming intensified, and Lucifer, thrashing and grabbing his ruined eye, shrunk back to his Court Form.
“You mutilated me!”
“Trust me,” Ofdensen said, eyeing his now gooey sword with a bit of repugnance. “An eyepatch is gonna look a lot better than that facelift.”
“I’ll never give you Nathan!”
“We’ve already got Nathan,” Ofdensen told him. “Now, roll over.”
“What?”
“I said roll. The fuck. Over,” Ofdensen repeated, flourishing his flaming sword so it changed to a flaming hacksaw.
The pink Cadillac rolled into the burning city of Dis to the same kind of reception as astronauts returning from a moon voyage. There was ticker tape. Burning ticker tape.
Nathan was there at the side of the road, staring at them. They stopped the car and leapt out.
“Dudes!” called Nathan. “Did Lucifer kidnap you- ? HEY GET OFF ME TOKI!!!” Though the last was a bit muffled due to a flying tackle by a Norwegian.
“Dood, we’re here t’ rescue yoo,” Pickles told him, as they helped him back to his feet.
“You all CAME TO HELL? Seriously, that’s kind of awesome.”
“Didn’t you hear usch playing?” Murderface asked.
“Well, everybodies but Murderface ams playings,” Skwisgaar laughed.
“Seriously?” Nathan asked.
“Dood! We wuz set out right outside da gate. How bad is yer hearin’?” asked Pickles.
Nathan shook his head.
“I seriously t’ought you wuz singin’ wit’ us,” Pickles wondered.
Nathan pulled at the scarf he had wrapped around his neck. “No dudes. My voice SUCKS because of all this FUCKING SMOKE. This is a weird place. Everybody else here is a fucking musician. I mean, they’re all dead and stuff, and I’m not, but it’s kind of cool. There’s just no fucking music here. It’s fucked up.”
“Shoulds we ams get goings?” Toki asked. “Charles’ ams says….”
“Uh, did Charles…” Nathan started. “They never told me what happened….”
“He’s OK. He and Raz got out. He’s down here takin’ a meetin’ wit’ Satan,” Pickles explained.
“Ah. Hey. Cool. Hey, you guys wanna grab a beer before we go? They have great beer here in Hell.”
“Naw, dood….”
“We’re schupposed to get you and drive right back,” Murderface muttered.
“Aw, dudes, just one beer, I want you to meet some people.”
“We ams must get back to da surfaces!” Toki protested.
“Charles told you guys this?” They all nodded obediently. “But, that dude’s still at his meeting, right?” More nods. “Sooo, it won’t matter if we all stay and have JUST ONE BEER?”
All eyes had suddenly drifted over to an obviously uncomfortable Pickles. “What ams you t’inks, Pickle?” Skwisgaar asked, still strumming the Dethcopter solo on his Gibson.
“Well. Uh. I guess it’s just one beer. Right, doods?”
Nathan grinned.
Ofdensen paused for a moment in the middle of the Ninth Circle of Hell to light a cigarette.
It looked like Ganesh and Raziel had pretty much cleared the plains of the Ninth Circle. A few of the demons were slowly knitting themselves back together. They would all pull back together, eventually. The process was just a lot slower and more difficult for them after they’d been hit by a magicked sword.
A small, ethereally pale demon was descending from above, its dark wings outstretched. It alit on an outcropping and glared at him with large brown eyes. Ofdensen blinked at it. It looked awfully familiar.
“Raziel?” he gawped. “What the fuck?”
She sprang off the rocks and landed in front of him. It was Raziel. Tiny Raziel. Only, with dark angel wings. She Court Formed, and held out a hand. “Shirt?” she asked.
“What?”
“I need your shirt. Before somebody sees my tits.”
He tilted his head. “I can already see your tits.”
“Before somebody important sees my tits!”
He grinned, removed his jacket and gave her his shirt. She took it, but scrutinized the label very carefully before she donned it.
“How the fuck did you do that, anyway?” he asked.
“I dunno. I was trying to see if I could True Form to squash the last couple demons, and ended up going to that weird small Form instead.”
“Weird form? Isn’t that like my True Form? Which you’ve always told me is lovely and I shouldn’t bitch about it?”
“Uh, well. Anyway, it was cool, ‘cause I could fly around and not worry about bringing the fucking place down with an earthquake.“ She put a hand through her hair, which had remained dark when she transformed. “But, it totally messed up my dye job!”
“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but, your roots were showing. Just a little.”
“Oh really? Well, good! I guess maybe all the snake bites fucked with my magic?”
“Maybe it’s being here. Morningstar has a Seraph Form.”
“What?”
“It’s odd. It’s not quite like us. I mean, like you. But, it definitely resembled a Seraph.”
“That little maggot! What did you do?”
“Kicked his ass.”
“Cool. Are those his?”
Ofdensen nodded to the bloody severed wings leaning against an outcropping and smiled.
“Are we gonna haul them back? They’re kinda gross,” she asked.
“I dunno. I just didn’t wanna give him a chance to magick them back on, ya know? You got any other ideas?”
“Oh yeah!” she said. She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Suddenly the five huge wolves came romping over. “Hey, magical doggies,” she sang, putting her arms around the neck of one. “Wanna play fetch?”
“Hell beer is AWESOME!” Nathan concluded. And, he had consumed enough to be rather confident in his opinion.
Nathan - car - surface, thought Pickles, annoyed that he could still think. “Dood,” he ventured. “Maybe we better….”
“Oh, hey, dudes,” Nathan whispered in his not too whispery voice, you gotta see this.” Nathan turned around and signaled Hell’s Barmaid. “Hey, douche bag! Your beer SUCKS!”
The barmaid True Formed in a tangle of tentacles. Skwisgaar, startled, doubled down his fingering. The bar maid suddenly cringed, and appeared to cover where her ears would have been with what her hands would have been. She slithered out of the bar.
“Dammit, that wasch our waitressch!” Murderface grumbled.
“Hey, isn’t dat what happened wit dat Minotaur dude?”
“You guys saw A MINOTAUR? Awwww, that sounds AWESOME,” Nathan grumbled.
“Nat’an, would yoo do dat again? Wit’ da barmaid?”
“But that’sch the only other waitressch!” Murderface protested. Nevertheless, Nathan managed to insult the demon barmaid into some kind of giant cockroach, and then Skwisgaar made her scurry away with a riff.
The group at the table looked up. They had company.
“Oh, uh, sorry, dudes, my buddies just wanted me to show them that transforming shit.”
“Can we ask you something?” the dead souls asked. Pickles noted the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. He wasn’t exactly certain if it was because they were totally famous dudes, or because they were dead dudes. Or maybe both.
“Where did you get these instruments?” He was pointing to Skwisgaar’s spare Strat, which he’d also taken to the bar, in case he wanted to alternate his constant practice.
“Doods! Dere’s a fucking warehouse full o’ dis stuff like a mile up da road!”
“No way!” Nathan said.
“Yesch. It’s weird asch Hell! Hahahaha!”
“You dudes should totally go up there and grab guitars and then you could annoy your waitresses FOR ETERNITY!” Nathan laughed.
“Unfortunately, it’s not allowed.”
“We’re dead. So we’re assigned our place in Hell.”
“But, we ams opened da gates for ya!” Skwisgaar protested.
“This is our place.”
“Yer trapped in da burnin’ city?” Pickles asked. “Fer eternity an’ shit?”
They nodded.
“Oh. Dat’s too bad,” Pickles muttered. He knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and waited for someone else to say it.
“Maybes we ams gets dems somes more instruments before we ams goings?” Toki ventured. “Dey ams da goods guy.”
“I could get back there pretty quick in the car!” Murderface volunteered. “Though, schomebody would have to come with me to pack the inschtruments!”
Pickles still had his eyes shut. He knew everybody was looking at him. Nathan - car - surface.
Lord Ganesh was standing up on some rocks, still in four-armed Form, distractedly counting off on all of his many fingers.
“So. What else does he have multiples of?” Raziel whispered to Ofdensen, who elbowed her, a bit sharply, in the ribs.
“Ganesha!” Raziel called. Ganesh nodded, but continued counting off on his fingers.
Just then, a demon dropped down on him from up above. But before Raziel or Ofdensen could react, Ganesh turned and sliced its head off.
He jumped down, smiling.
“I knew I missed one!” Ganesh said.
“If that one put you over, I am going to be so mad!” Raziel announced.
“You took a head start!” Ganesh scolded her.
“You put on your extra arms!”
“You brought extra wolves!” Ganesh protested, pointing to two of the same, who were apparently wrestling over a feather pillow or something of the sort. “By the way, what happened here?”
“Sariel took a meeting with Satan.”
“Ah. How did that go?”
“I got his Bluetooth. And the ear.” Ofdensen grinned.
“Somehow I always imagined those devices originated from down here,” Ganesh mused, picking up his discarded shirt from where he’d laid it aside on some rocks and dusting it off.
“You’ve done humanity a service. Really,” said Raziel, watching her wolves mangle Lucifer’s wings.
“If you guys could put away your wolves and maybe uncork Garuda? I’d like to get back up there and check on the boys.”
Raziel whistled sharply and the furry beasts came galloping her way.
“You don’t think they are already on their way out, as we planned?” Ganesh inquired.
From the middle of a pack of wolves, Raziel started laughing. “You wanna bet on that Ganesh? I bet you the million billion dollars I won from Skwisgaar.”
“I just…. I’ll just feel better when we’re all the fuck out of here,” Ofdensen sighed. He somehow reckoned taking Dethklok to Hell was nothing on trying to pry their reluctant asses out of Hell.
It was bigger than Woodstock.
Or, maybe not.
But it had certainly attracted every damned soul in the vicinity.
Pickles stood to the side of the makeshift stage, arms crossed, a look of triumph on his face. He had been their leader, a responsibility that never weighed easily on him. And, as was typical, he had completely fucked up, well, all to Hell.
Maybe his dad had been right, and he belonged in a garbage can. But right now, he was pretty fucking proud of himself.
He felt someone grip his shoulder. He knew who it was. He knew before he even turned around.
“Pickles….” Charles started. Pickles glared back. He knew this look. He steeled himself. “What is happening? Where is the car? Where is…. Where is Nathan?”
“Nat’an is OK,” Pickles assured him. No reason to make the guy suffer, even if he was being an asshole. Or soon going to be an asshole. “We’re OK, dood. An…. I sent da car back to da place t’ get more instr’ments.”
Here it came. “You. Did. What?”
“Dood, ya don’t unnerstand.” Pickles waved at the stage. If he was gonna get yelled at, he was gonna say his fucking piece first. “Dey’re down here, an’ Loocifer took all deir instruments away. Now dey got a reason t’ live. Or, uh, not live, ‘cause dey’re dead I guess. Huh.”
“Pickles….”
“Anyway! Dood! He took away deir music. Douchifer. So, we jist sent da car back t’ pick some more stuff up. Instruments an’ stuff. We’ll get outta here. We will. Jist… Dey were cool t’ Nat’an. An’ we wanted t’ help. I mean, dey’re dead souls. Dey didn’t doo anyt’ing, dey’re jist dead. Dey’re TRAPPED here, Charles! Ferever.”
Pickles braced himself. But the storm didn’t come. Ofdensen was fumbling for a cigarette. “All right then,” he said, very quietly. “All right. We’ll go when the car comes back. Where’s Nathan?”
Raziel had wandered over to the stage. She had found Skwisgaar pretty quickly, as that blond head was easy to spot in a crowd. He had excused himself, to go chat with some musicians up on stage, but he had just come back to stand beside her.
There were two guitarists on the stage now tuning up. The guy wearing the hat with the silver band had restrung his Strat left-handed. The other guy - shy, blond, bearded - had a Gibson Les Paul.
“Oh my god, is that-“ Raziel started.
“I ams made da requests for ya,” Skwisgaar muttered into her ear. They both turned to watch the stage. The opening chord chimed, and then the drummer cut in, and then two guitarists began to chase each other, trading lines.
Skwisgaar started. Raziel had twined her small hand in his, and was holding on, very tightly.
“Those dudes aren’t bad,” said Nathan. “For old dead dudes.” Ofdensen, standing beside Nathan, nodded quietly. “You should have heard our set! Did Pickles tell you? We did three songs.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It was one of the four or five best we’ve ever done! Even with my voice rough! It was better than Marrakesh!”
“Uh-huh.”
“That was one of our best. Don’t you think it was one of our best?” Ofdensen shrugged, so Nathan pressed, “What did you think was our best gig?”
“Uh. It’s hard to pick.” He became aware of Nathan scowling at him. “Look, Nathan, I don’t always get to, uh, hear you guys play.”
“What?”
“Cause he’s doin’ other shit, Nat’an,” Pickles snorted.
“Wait, you don’t hear the fucking shows?”
“I’m there for the shows,” Ofdensen said, now scowling himself. “You know that. I’m always there for the shows.”
“But you don’t listen?”
“Dood, he doesn’t get t’ listen ‘cause he’s tryin’ to make sure the fuckin’ stage don’t burn down,” Pickles laughed, putting a friendly arm around their frowning manager’s shoulders. “Which it usually does anyway. Heh.”
Murderface and Knubbler approached Pickles. “That’s the lascht of the inschtruments,” Murderface told Pickles. “Hey, Ofdenschen. How was the meeting?”
Ofdensen shrugged. “We had a very civil discussion.”
“Yesch?”
“And then I cut his wings off with a fucking hacksaw.”
Murderface grinned. “Aweschome,” he said.
Pickles gaped, taking his arm off their manager’s shoulders. “Dood…” he began.
But Ofdensen had turned around. Ganesh had just tapped his shoulder.
“I don’t wish to seem uncordial….” The god began.
“I don’t think it’s possible for you,” Ofdensen told him, shaking his head.
“My father used to tell me, regarding mountaineering in the Himalayas, that one rarely lost a man on the ascent. It was always the descent where problems seemed to occur.”
“We need to get our ass out of here, in other words?”
“Despite the conducive company, yes, this is still technically enemy territory.”
“Noted. Gather everybody around the car. Let’s get going.” He reeled at the tremor.
“Was that an earthquake?” Ganesh said.
“No. Get everyone. Now. William?”
“Yesch.”
“You still got those explosives in your bag?”
Murderface grinned.
The sky above burning city of Dis was still orange when the Pink Cadillac tore off up the road to Hell, William Murderface at the wheel. But there was now the added crimson and brown splash from the mushroom cloud that had formerly been Styx Station on Satan’s bullet train system.
“I feel sorta bad destroying that,” Nathan mused. “I mean, even though Satan is kind of a douche. It’s cool to have a bullet train.”
They drove in silence. The tremors were becoming more powerful and more frequent. The road to Hell was in notably worse shape than on the descent, and a couple places, Murderface had a job threading the large car between rockslides and the sheer edge of the road. There were no guard rails in Hell.
Kwahu alit on the front seat and transformed. “Oh, man, dudes. This is not good.”
But Ofdensen didn’t have to ask. They approached the tunnel to the back door of Hell. It had been completely collapsed in one of the rockslides.
Mufderface stopped the car and Ofdensen leapt out to look. The ground began to shake again.
“William? Car keys.” The bassist tossed the keys to Ofdensen.
“Raziel?” She nodded. He handed her the keys. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
The small angel was already starting the car, tossing her shoes into the back. “Watch the clutch!” Murderface warned her. Raziel ignored him. She jammed it into gear and they were all pushed back with the acceleration. She clipped corners, and veered too close to the edge.
“This ain’t a fucking Ferrari!” Murderface finally screamed through tightly clenched eyes.
“It is if ya know how to fucking drive it,” Raziel yelled back. And she didn’t engage the brake until they arrived, with a squeal of tires, at the tunnel that bored under the Acheron river, and into Purgatory.
They slammed to a halt just as another tremor sent the DANGER sign tumbling down into the pits of Hell.
“Everybody into the fucking tunnel NOW!” Ofdensen screamed. For once, there wasn’t any debate.
And then he turned back, and saw the reason for the tremors. He felt Ganesh grabbing his jacket, and he turned and ran into the tunnel.
“Kwahu,” Ofdensen ordered. “Go find an elevator. Any fucking elevator.”
“You got it dude,” the eagle Kachina agreed, swiftly going to bird Form.
“Murderface! Where’s the rest of the explosives?” The bassist eagerly dug in his bag. “Just toss me whatever we have. Everybody else? Keep going. Into the mall.”
“Into da what?” Pickles said, but, like everyone else, he was now running towards Purgatory.
Ofdensen spread the charges around the tunnel. And then he threw himself to the ground. A Seraph who was too big to fit into the tunnel entrance was poking at him with a huge flaming sword. Then Ofdensen felt a tug on his collar, and he was suddenly at the other end of the tunnel, near the exit doors, on top of Raziel, who was yelling, “GOT ‘EM! DO IT!” Murderface, who was also by the door, drawing a bead with his gun, squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the explosives, and the tunnel turned into an orange ball of flame. They were all three knocked back several feet by the concussive force.
“God I love blowin’ schit up!” Murderface laughed.
Ofdensen pushed himself up and looked around. Someone had turned the lights off in Purgatory.
“Dis ams a shoppings mall?” Skwisgaar asked, shining a flashlight around.
“Where did all the shoppers go?” Nathan asked.
“Hey angel homeboy!” Kwahu hissed. “Found your elevators! But they’re stuck. Like fucking everything here.”
“Raziel, can you jump up an elevator shaft to the surface from here?”
“Oh, fuck yeah!”
The ground trembled. One of the mannequins in the Contempo Casuals window toppled over through the plate glass window in the front of the shop with a smash. And then there was more smashing glass, from the other end of the mall.
“They’re coming over the Acheron now. Which way, Kwahu?” The eagle Kachina led them through the darkened shopping mall. The tremors were coming more frequently, and more powerfully. They picked their way over broken glass to what looked like a bank of service elevators. Ganesh made a sweeping gesture with his arms, and the doors popped open to reveal an empty, darkened elevator shaft.
“Raziel?” Ofdensen asked. But she had already grabbed Pickles in a flying tackle and jumped into the shaft. And then they were gone, just as the Seraphim smashed into view.
“Fuck,” Ofdensen whispered.
Dick Knubbler was peering up an elevator shaft, his eyes blinking green. “It’s been a long time, baby, but I think Dick Knubbler may have a jump left in him, yeah.” Ofdensen nodded to him, and drew a sword. Ganesh drew a sword and also flourished a trident.
“Willie, babe!” Knubbler told Murderface. “Gimme your hand, baby, yeah!”
“WHOA!” said Pickles. The little angel giggled and scrambled out from beneath him. He rose, helping her up. “Dat was awesome!”
“We can try that again some time when we’re not all gonna die,” Raziel told him. She looked around. They were in a wilderness area, though not the same one they’d gone to for the back door to Hell. It looked like they were near an old abandoned mine. They were next to the mine elevator rig, a mess of gears and metal beams, which looked a bit like the world’s biggest, coolest Erector set. “Speaking of which, I gotta get….”
“HOLY FUCKING SCHIT!” Murderface screamed as he suddenly appeared. Pickles and Raziel pulled the dazed bassist off of an even more dazed looking Dick Knubbler. The producing angel’s robot eyes were squeezed closed. “Dick?” asked Pickles. “Dood? Yer OK?”
The robot irises opened, blinking red to green to red. “Sorry babies, yeah. It’s been a while since Dick Knubbler tried that, yeah.”
“Look after him?” Raziel asked Pickles. He nodded, and she jumped into the elevator rig.
“Uh, you’re gonna fight those dudes?” Nathan was asking Ofdensen.
“No. We’re gonna hold ‘em off. Now fucking stay back, Nathan. Or I WILL kill you myself.”
The two Seraphim stood awkwardly in the center of the darkened mall atrium. There was not quite enough room for them to stand shoulder to shoulder, and they were both a bit hunched over. Raziel was right, Ofdensen reflected. There actually were disadvantages to having a hulking fighting form.
At that exact moment the small angel appeared, muttered, “Sorry, got delayed,” grabbed a very surprised Toki by the collar, and evaporated again, Norwegian guitarist in tow.
Ganesh threw his trident into the foot of the nearest Seraph. The giant reeled, now pinned to the ground, and managed to shove his buddy back with his flailing. The ground shook, and there was more glass shattering. A huge crack appeared in the center of the floor. There was an eerie orange glow visible inside the crack. Ganesh was already climbing up to the second floor of the mall. Ofdensen ran around to where the second Seraph was still trying to keep his footing. One slash of his sword, and the giant’s Achilles tendon was severed in his right foot. The Seraph stomped down, hard. The ground trembled, and the crack in the floor ripped open into a giant crevasse, right down the center of the floor, between the Sports Authority and Nordstrom.
Raziel appeared again. “C’mon, Blondie!” she yelled, grabbing Skwisgaar this time.
Ofdensen cut the Seraph’s other tendon. The Seraph fell hard, collapsing into the floor, and then taking most of the floor with him, as the crevasse widened into canyon. He peered over, but couldn’t see the Seraph, nor the bottom of the yawning hole. Ofdensen started running back around to where Nathan was still standing on the narrow shelf in front of the elevator shafts.
Ganesh was up on the second floor balcony, expertly slitting the first Seraph’s throat. Blood geysered out of the giant’s neck. The Seraph clutched blindly. He grabbed Ganesh, who cried out, and then disappeared as they both tumbled into the yawning crevasse.
Ofdensen found himself being punched hard in the shoulder. It was Raziel. “GO GET HIM! I GOT THIS!” And so saying she shoved Nathan into the elevator shaft.
Sariel was already True Form, trying to fly fast enough to catch up to a falling giant. The Seraph was clinging to the side of the crevasse with one hand, Ganesh unconscious in the other mighty hand. Then the Seraph screamed. Kwahu the eagle had just flown into his eye. The Seraph dropped Ganesh and lost purchase on the side. He fell, all giant thrashing limbs, as Sariel dove after Ganesh. Sariel came up just under the elephant god and slammed him to the side of the crevasse, somehow just missing the dying Seraph’s madly thrashing arm. Then he grabbed Ganesh as tightly as he could under his arms and, with Kwahu circling them, flew him up to the top of the crevasse and then straight towards elevator shaft. Kwahu landed on Sariel’s shoulder, his eagle talons digging deep. They careened into a shaft, and Sariel jumped.
“You were grabbing my tits!” Raziel was shouting.
“I was not grabbing your tits!” Nathan protested.
“You were totally grabbing my tits!”
“Maybe I was kind of grabbing your tits!”
“Goddammit Nathan-.“ But then she froze. Everybody stopped.
“I don’t think his heart is beating.” Sariel could barely manage a whisper, but they were all gathered around, silent.
Instantly, Dick Knubbler was at Ganesh’s side. “Stand back and let Dick Knubbler work, yeah. Pickles, the medical bag!” The redheaded drummer leapt over and grabbed the black bag. He dragged it over to Ganesh’s lifeless body.
“Ten CCs of epinephrine baby. Stat. Yeah,” he told Pickles. “In the biggest gauge needle, yeah.” Pickles obediently located the bottle of adrenaline and loaded a syringe, flicking out the bubbles. He slapped it into the record producer’s right palm. Kumbbler had unbuttoned Ganesh’s shirt, and was already feeling carefully for Ganesh’s breastbone with his left hand. He spread his fingers around the proper spot.
He stabbed the elephant god in the chest with the big needle, pushing the drug straight into his heart.
There was a gasp. Ganesh was sitting bolt upright, the needle still in his heart, his eyes wide open.
“Ha!” Raziel shouted, her arms encircling the record producer.
“You learn some things, being in this business forever baby, yeah!” Dick Knubbler grinned. He leaned over and plucked the needle out of the elephant god’s chest.
There were almost as many hands on Ganesh as he possessed himself. “I was dreaming….” Ganesh whispered. “The wheel…. The wheel of karma….”
Sariel traced a strand of Ganesh’s hair back behind his ear. “Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.”
True to the cliché that doctors make the worst patients, Ganesh would not lie down quietly and wait for medical evacuation, but instead insisted on personally attending to the injuries of every single member of the expedition before he would conscience leaving. And this, even though he admitted he knew next to nothing regarding angel physiology, and just plain nothing of the workings of Kachinas. Surprisingly, there was nothing life-threatening, although Nathan was still complaining about his voice.
“So I ams now da only livings guitarist to opens da gates of Hell!” Skwisgaar was bragging.
“We ams both da guitarists, Skiwsgaar,” Toki reminded him.
“Well, ja, I guesses…” Skwisgaar muttered.
“Doods, I play da guitar too! So, I’m a guitarist who opened dat gate!” Pickles laughed. Skwisgaar scowled and played an unpleasant riff.
“And I played bassch guitar!”
“You ams pretend playings!”
“I should get back,” Raziel said, happily watching the squabble. “Wotan’s gonna wanna hear about all this from me.”
“Let me give you something for those serpent bites,” Ganesh told her. She protectively laced an arm around his waist and led him off to where he had set down the medical pack. He rummaged around and extracted a small jar. “If you apply this each night,” he explained, “it should eliminate the possibility of any scarring. You might need to get Wotan to make sure you’ve covered all areas.” He grinned. “I trust he won’t find this assignment onerous?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine with that!” Razlei giggled. She tugged on Ganesh’s collar to bring his head down to where she could kiss him on his cheeks. “Thanks, Gimli!”
“Any time, Legolas.”
“Why don’t I ever get the fucking air kiss bullshit?”
She looked over to where Ofdensen was glaring at her. “Well, for one, thing,” she counted on her fingers, “you hate people touching you….”
“You do?” asked Ganesh.
“You hate pointless social gestures. You find me irritating….”
“Everybody finds you irritating, Raziel!”
She stalked over, grabbed the collar of his badly torn jacket to pull his face down, and kissed him on both cheeks.
“Ya know, I just bought this jacket,” he told her, grinning down at her hand on his collar.
She threw her hands up in mock despair, smiled, and disappeared.
“Shall I be careful of your jacket?” Ganesh laughed. Ofdensen shook his head. And so he wasn’t.
“I need to go too,” Ganesh said at last.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I believe so. I will return to my father’s palace, where I will be attended to. But I think you will be well disposed to come and check on me at your earliest opportunity?” And with that, Ganesh smiled and disappeared as well.
“Don’t I get da air kisses?”
Ofdensen jerked around to see Pickles grinning madly at him.
“Fuck off, Pickles,” he grumbled.
“What about a blow job?” the drummer laughed, hooking an elbow around his manager’s neck.
“Fuck off, Pickles.” Though, he was smiling when he said it.
They returned to where the rest of the party was milling around.
“Can I offer you dudes a ride home?” asked Kwahu.
“What do you think, Nathan?” Ofdensen winced. He thought Nathan might crush his shoulder in his grip.
“OH FUCK YEAH,” Nathan said.
Hon the Bear Kachina waved from the back of the flying serpent. It floated gracefully down to earth, like a green banner in the wind.
Nathan was at his office door.
Ofdensen did something he rarely did. He smiled.
He beckoned the singer to enter. Nathan sat, but looked uncomfortable.
Ofdensen was already pouring out a glass of Scotch. “You doin’ OK?” he asked. “I guess we haven’t had a chance to talk since…. You know.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, knocking back some Scotch. “That’s why I’m here. We need to talk.”
Ofdensen’s heart stopped. It was something about the way he said it. “Uh. Yeah?”
“I just did some thinking,” Nathan said, looking into his empty glass. “When I was down in Hell.”
“I suppose that would make anyone think.”
“About my life.” Nathan looked up.
“OK. Something you wanna share?”
“I’m thinking about taking a break.”
“Taking a break?”
“You know. From Dethklok.”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dethklok goes to Hell. ‘Nuff said.
Warnings: Slash, AU, F-words, OCs, smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump
This is a Metalocalypse AU which tiktaalikroseae has dubbed “Mythklok.” Here are the other bits, about an angelic visit (Chapter 1), a hunt (Chapter 2), a barbecue (Chapter 3), a ski trip (Chapter 4), a sword fight (Chapter 5), Bette Davis Movies (Chapter 6), a concert (Chapter 7), tall tales (Chapter WTF), a trial (Chapter8), an argument (Chapter 9), a stray cat (Chapter 10), Satan’s shinkansen system (Chapter 11) and the highway to Hell (Chapter 12).
Oh, and these are Lady Raziel’s accounts of Sariel’s adventures in North Africa and Middle Earth.
Oh, and lookit dudes! late_totheparty did arts for Falling Down. It's actually from the Michael Douglas movie, but it's complete awesome and stuff.
What’s been happening: Well, this little arc ended up being a teeny bit longer than I had intended. To begin more or less at the beginning of time: CFO is an immortal angel who used to go by the name Sariel. He sort of wants to forget that bit of his life, due to the fact that it kind of sucked, and now he’s Fallen, and pretty much trapped forever in our even suckier universe. However, recently, supernatural beings, some mischievous, and some malevolent, have been dropping by and making his life even more miserable. At the beginning of this arc, Lucifer invited him down for a visit to Hell, and kind of kidnapped Nathan. So, Dethklok’s lead singer is still down there, drinking beer with a bunch of dead musicians in the burning city of Dis, located in the Fifth Circle. But help is on the way! In the form of Dethklok. Oh, no. And Charles also brought along some reinforcements, including a stoner eagle Kachina named Kwahu, an annoying female Seraph named Raziel, and a Hindu elephant god named Ganesh, the latter being also sort of his boyfriend. Surprised? Well, yeah, so is he.
Little Wing
Not so many years ago….
“So, it’s over.”
“Yeh.”
“I think you could do better.”
“Dood, what did you say yer name was again?”
“Charles Foster Ofdensen.”
“Heh. Yea. What did yoo say yer real name was?”
“What did you say your real name was?”
“Ha, touché,” said Pickles the drummer, grinning over at the douche bag in the suit. He was sort of a cute douche bag, which is why Pickles had continued talking to him even after it became painfully apparent that he was a douche bag. “So, you t’ink I can do better dan Snakes an’ Barrels?”
The man in the suit - OK, Pickles would let him be “Charles” for now - fingered his Scotch glass as if he were twisting it into the table. “I believe, with more suitable personnel, a slightly different musical direction, and, most importantly, a more involved, ah, management team … yes, you could go quite far.”
“SnB had a manager, dood. We went t’rough a lotta managers. And dey usually jist went t’rough a lotta our money.”
“Yes. But I have other, ah, more specialized qualifications I could bring to shepherding your career. You and your new band’s career. Once we get that in place.”
“Other qualifications? What are yoo, a crime boss?”
Charles got kind of a wistful smile. “Well, maybe that’s not too far off.”
“What?”
“I’m a lawyer. You’re welcome to check my credentials. You have my card. And I have some training in financial management as well. But most of all,” and here he turned to look at Pickles, “I could give you more, ah, intense oversight of your career.”
“Intense oversight?”
“Yes. If you’ll forgive me for using a clichéd term, you might, ah, think of me as your guardian angel.”
“My WHAT?” Pickles laughed. But the dude who called himself Charles Foster Something-or-other was just looking into his whiskey glass again and smiling a sort of Mona Lisa smile.
It didn’t take too many more shots of whiskey to get Charles up to his hotel room. It was usually a pretty easy thing for Pickles, though he had to admit, things had slowed down a tad since SnB finally sputtered out.
Charles checked to see that the door was locked, and then immediately began tearing off his jacket and tie. “Whoa, dood,” laughed Pickles, “yer not eager or anything.”
“I’d like to show you something.”
“Dood! I been in a band Ain’t anything I haven’t seen….” But then he went silent.
“Motherdouchebags,” he finally said.
The present day….
Sariel soared uneasily down towards the pits of Hell.
This had seemed like a good idea, back when they were standing in the middle of Wotan’s dining room.
One thing he had always shared with Raziel was a dislike of their respective True Forms. Though, as he’d often told her, at least her monstrous Seraph Form was useful for various things, such as kicking the shit out of people. Instead of a warrior Form, however, he’d been granted gangly little wings that were mostly good for knocking over the good china in tight places. And as for his unusual silvery coloring, the Creator may as well have painted a giant target on his back.
He was following the golden-winged Garuda, mounted with Ganesh and Raziel. Unlike Sariel, the beast seemed to have an instinct for catching the subtlest of updrafts. He was close enough to notice that, despite Ganesh’s concern that she would drop off to sleep again and plummet, Raziel appeared to be having the time of her life, eagerly chattering with the Hindu god and pointing out various things on their descent. Why hadn’t she been awake and eager back when he was being drooled to death by a Cerberus dog?
His thoughts drifted back to the boys, still up on the Road to Hell just outside the Fifth Circle. Another thing that had sounded just dandy in the dining room at Valhalla. They would play a guitar riff, reunite with Nathan, escort him back, and exit just the way they came in. What could go wrong? Except everything. And he should have been there for Nathan. He was the one who got him stuck down here. Going off like this on some stupid vengeance mission made him seem like a douche bag. Which, face it, maybe he was. He sure as hell looked like one in this stupid fucking Form.
The angels and the elephant god alit in a dark section of the road to Hell in the Eighth Circle. Ganesh helped Raziel down from Garuda, and then coaxed the gorgeous creature back into his tiny perfume bottle. Ofdensen, with great relief, reverted to Court Form.
A building that extended all the way to the rim of the Circle blocked the road here. They could hear what sounded like a throbbing dance beat coming from inside.
“They have a disco here?” Ofdensen asked no one in particular.
“I wanna go clubbing in Hell!” Raziel said, pushing inside.
It did indeed look like a club, albeit a rather sedate one. It was extremely crowded, but even though the DJ was obviously throwing down beats, there was almost no one up dancing. Instead the residents milled around, looking bored.
“Hey, it’s just like a club up above,” grinned Ofdensen.
As they moved towards the exit on the other side, however, the milling crowd started to move in their way. Ofdensen noticed that several of the demons among them were wavering from humanoid Forms to rather nastier True Forms, which included tentacles and claws and the like. The party of three retreated, and then they tried to take an alternate route to the door. But were once again cut off in the subtly threatening manner. They tried a third route, and were surrounded and pushed back once again.
They finally assembled around one of the tables in the bar area.
“We could fight our way through,” Ganesh speculated, “but I’m not entirely certain of our odds, and the attention we attract might alert Lucifer to our purposes prematurely.”
“We’re stuck in a discothèque in Hell?” Ofdensen sighed, putting his head on the table. Clubbing, as it happened, was his idea of eternal punishment.
“Perhaps,” said Ganesh. He considered a moment. Raziel had dozed off on his shoulder. He nudged her awake. “Come,” he told her. “Dance with me.”
Raziel blinked at him, dazed. Ganesh was already on the dance floor, and he beckoned to her. “You guys are gonna fucking DANCE?” Ofdensen whispered to her.
Raziel grinned. “Oh hell yeah! Just stay here and get ready to run,” she whispered. She slid off the stool and went out to join Ganesh on the floor. The Hindu god was already swaying to the music, and Raziel was soon following his moves. He pulled her closer - a lot closer - and they continued moving to the music.
Ofdensen blinked and forced himself to look away. It was a bit arresting to see them like that. He noticed that several of the assorted damned souls and demons who had been milling about the club had now joined the couple out on the floor. It was strange: like Raziel, they seemed to be copying Ganesh’s movements.
He jerked back. Ganesh had just tossed his jacket onto the table, and Raziel soon followed, shedding her own coat and tossing it at Ofdensen. More club patrons were on the floor dancing, as Ganesh held Raziel even closer, they only seemed aware of each other. And they continued like this for a few minutes, Ofdensen found himself the recipient of a few more random articles of clothing as most of the other patrons now found themselves out on the floor.
He lost sight of Ganesh and Raziel for a moment, but then he saw the Hindu God pulling her up on a table and they began … well, he wasn’t exactly certain what they were doing could technically be called dancing any more. He shook his head and looked around the club again. The seating area around him was almost deserted as the entire club worth of patrons now seemed to be seething on the dance floor, following Ganesh’s dance.
He looked back to the dance floor, but no longer saw Ganesh or Raziel. But then the wind was knocked out of him as he felt himself jerked back out of his chair. Keeping low, Ganesh and Raziel were sneaking towards the exit at a rapid place.
They pushed out of the door and ran, and remained running until the club was out of sight. They came to a halt, laughing and puffing, and Raziel and Ganesh started to re-don various discarded items of clothing Ofdensen had bundled in his arms.
“Does, uh, does Wotan know you guys go out and dance like that?” Ofdensen asked Raziel, holding out her blouse.
“We don’t always dance like THAT,” she said, snatching it away from him. “My god, that DJ was HOT!” she gushed.
“They appear to have the best quality disk jockeys down here,” agreed Ganesh, buttoning his shirt.
“I wish we could’ve stayed for another number!”
“Yes, ‘tis a pity that we’re in a hurry.”
“Well, I’m pretty fucking SORRY that rescuing a kidnapping victim is interfering with you two going clubbing!” Ofdensen fumed.
“Maybe you could inquire with Dick Knubbler about getting one of these fellows for the reception?” Ganesh proposed.
“Oh, that’s a terrific idea, Ganesh.”
“Ganesh, does being around Raziel just make you fucking nuts too?” Ofdensen asked him.
“Sariel,” Raziel giggled, clutching him by an arm as he cringed. “Ganesh just rescued us from an impossible situation! Shouldn’t you be showering him with praise?”
“Now, Lady Raziel,” Ganesh scolded, “You shouldn’t be so judgmental! Sariel is our leader, so he must keep in mind the ultimate success of the mission!”
“I think he’s being a stick in the mud. By the way, you damn well better teach him to dance or I’m gonna be terribly disappointed.”
“I dance,” Ofdensen groused. “Just NOT LIKE THAT.”
Skwisgaar had his equipment all set at the Gates of Hell.
He was idly tuning his Gibson, getting ready to play the solo of his life.
He looked at the people gathered around the pink Caddy, watching him. He fingered a couple of riffs. And then he took his hands off his guitar and stared back at his audience.
“Ah,” he said. “Maybe it would be best if we ams played with two guitar?”
Toki froze.
“We needs to get dis rights da first times, ja? And what ifs da guitars string breaks?”
Toki blinked.
“Tokis? Ams you comings up here or nots?” demanded Skwisgaar.
Toki dove for his guitar, and soon he and Pickles had him set up and ready to go. Despite his derision of all things associated with physical labor, Murderface may have even grabbed a microphone. Or, maybe not.
“Um,” said Toki.
“What ams it now Tokis?” Skwisgaar snapped.
“We ams broughts da equipments for everybody….” Toki ventured.
Skwisgaar paused and did something very odd. He thought about what Toki had just said. Perhaps it was the heat and smoke.
“Dat’s troo,” Pickles mused. “I got a drum set. We could back ya up, dood.”
Finally, Skwisgaar said, “Maybe dat ams not da bad ideas. You guys ams probably makes me looks good, ja? Except maybes Murderfaces, you ams pretends plays?”
“Yeah, then I won’t have to schet up my ampsch,” the bassist grumbled. Even so, he had already grabbed his bass guitar.
They were peeking over an outcropping, the angels and the god. An entire valley full of demons now lay between them and Satan’s office block in Hell. And it really did look like an office block. Ganesh had thoughtfully packed along some opera glasses, even though Ofdensen suspected he didn’t need them. Why would Lucifer wanna make Hell look like Century City? Unless it was the Century City looked like Hell.
But there wasn’t time for such musing. The road to Hell still wound along the side of the valley, but it looked very disused in this part.
“So close, and yet, so far,” Ganesh noted. “Well, I could give you the loan of Garuda.”
“No. That’s why we didn’t land over there in the first place. I really don’t wanna tip him off that it’s me ‘til the last possible second.”
“So True Form is out,” Raziel concluded.
“Yeah. Look, I hate to ask this, and if it was anybody else but ya know, Legolas and Gimli….” Raziel smiled blondely. “If you guys could manage some kind of diversion down on the plains, I could probably get around the rim pretty quickly.”
Ganesh and Raziel were grinning madly at each other.
“Are you feeling diverting, Gimli?” asked Raziel.
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Ganesh assured her.
“Too bad your father isn’t here!” Raziel told Ganesh.
“Oh, a wager? You realize, Lady Legolas, that I am Oxford-educated, and thus am capable of keeping count as well?”
“Ha! Then it’s on, dwarf!” Raziel laughed.
“Uh, guys? Just make sure you concentrate on, you know, not dying? Before the suave keeping count part?” Ofdensen asked. But Raziel had pulled out a blade she was feinting with, and Ganesh, for whatever reason, was kicking off his shoes and calmly removing his jacket and placing it neatly on some rocks.
“You ready to go, Sariel?” Raziel asked.
‘You’re gonna be OK? Just the two of you?” he asked her.
“We’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s not just the two of us.” And, before he could stop her, she had hopped over the outcropping and landed in the middle of the fields of Hell.
“King Wotan sends his regards!” she shouted, flourishing the sword. Suddenly, every eye on the field was upon her. Ofdensen watched as she tucked her sword under her arm. As dozens of demons started slowly approaching her, she calmly pulled an intricate silver ring off her left hand. She rubbed it between her palms, and it separated into five delicate rings. She cast out each of the rings before her and waved her hand, muttering something as she did so.
The five rings sprouted into five wolves. They were big - even bigger than Geri and Freki, who were monsters. They growled, and snapped, and charged, Lady Raziel behind them, cheerfully shouting and waving her sword.
Ofdensen became aware that Ganesh was staring over his shoulder. He turned.
“Did she begin without me?” Ganesh laughed. He had pulled off his shirt, because he had pulled out an extra set of arms. As well as an extra set of swords, which he irritably twirled with two of his arms. “That is not terribly sportsmanlike!” he declared, waving one of his now many fingers.
“Uh, I guess I should’ve warned you about wagering with Raziel,” Ofdensen said distractedly.
Ganesh grinned, and suddenly grabbed the small of Ofdensen’s back with one of his free hands and kissed him. “I must go!” he laughed, and then he too had jumped onto the field.
Ofdensen stood for a long moment, watching Ganesh’s back, all four arms busily hacking away. For a long moment, he unsuccessfully tried to force his mind to start thinking again. At length, he looked to the horizon, to Lucifer’s offices. He decided to treat himself like a member of Dethklok. OK, from here to there, keep running, kill any demons you meet. Clear? Clear.
He set off, glad that he listened to himself better than his band did.
Dethklok - or 80% thereof - was now set up to play at the Gates of Hell.
“You ams follows me,” Skwisgaar scolded Toki. “AND DON’TS FUCKS IT UPS!”
Toki nodded. He was trying so very hard not to grin like an idiot, as that would not be terribly metal. They had their guitars tuned down as far as they would go. The world would never again hear anything so heavy. Pickles had been nervously playing drumrolls, and Murderface was practicing poses that looked particularly Hellish.
Kwahu, who had tried to fly ahead into Dis several times to scout around for Nathan, had been repeatedly frustrated by the odd updrafts around the gate. He wasn’t exactly certain if it was the fire, or some kind of infernal magic. But he couldn’t say he minded, as he would never in his life get better seats for a Dethklok concert.
They decided to do Hatredcopter, even though it wouldn’t really be the same without Nathan’s growls. Pickles counted off and the cacophony started.
Sometimes when they were playing, especially during the really good gigs, they’d get to feeling like they were actually floating up above themselves, watching from the sky. They didn’t really talk about this much with each other. Despite Dr. Twinkletits’ best efforts, Dethklok weren’t “talk about it” kinda guys. But, that had started happening already. Maybe because the acoustics were particularly good, or because everybody was pretty psyched. And maybe it was because Dick Knubbler had worked his magic with the sound. Come to think of it, maybe he had worked actual magic?
But so it happened, there they were, above the stage, all by the second verse, watching the five of them play on stage.
And it was the five of them. Nathan had joined them. I wasn’t clear how, but there he was, big as life. No, bigger than life! And then finally Pickles sang the last of his verses. It was exhausting to play the fucking drums and try to sing at the same time, but he had put everything into it, and now came the part where Skwisgaar and Toki needed to wind up and take it home. The guitar part started out really crunchy, and then it just went batshit insane. And Skwisgaar just absolutely lost his mind this time. He had never played so fast, or so brutally. And the rest of the band kept up with him, including Nathan’s spirit, who was there to sing the last round of “Hatredcopter hatredcopter hatredcopter hatredcopter….”
In the end, the Gates of Hell simply had no chance against a full frontal assault Dethklok. They didn’t open. The iron went white hot, and then simply melted.
The unfortunately souls who resided in the Burning City of Dis were instantly all gathered around the ruined gate, cheerily waving hook ‘em horns.
“I’m here to see Satan. I don’t have an appointment.”
It was a waiting room in Hell. In other words, it looked very much like a waiting room pretty much anywhere else in the world. There was a scowling receptionist attacking her long fingernails with an emery board, and a room full of miserable souls reading last May’s edition of People magazine.
The startled receptionist quickly went to True Form, which appeared to involve rather a lot of tentacles.
Several of the demons in the waiting room looked up from articles about Prince William and Kate Middleton and appeared to grow restless. Some of them had started flickering, as if they were all about to convert to rather unpleasant True Forms.
Ofdensen flashed his sword and neatly sliced off the receptionist’s head, or at least where her head had been before it was replaced by a Lovecraftian abomination.
The other waiting room occupants suddenly snapped their attentions back to Prince William’s royal romance.
Ofdensen burst into Lucifer’s office. The Morningstar looked up from his desk, smiling a blinding smile.
“Lucifer,” said Ofdensen.
“Sariel,” said the Devil. “Sorry I gotta take-“ but then he was screaming.
Ofdensen had sliced off Lucifer’s Bluetooth. Along with his right ear. “Get off the motherfucking phone,” he growled, his sword point now in Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer stood, throwing over his desk as he did so, and forcing Ofdensen to jump back. “You don’t want to anger me, Little Brother,” he hissed.
“I’m not your fucking Little Brother.”
“No. You’re just little.” Ofdensen noticed that the office had disappeared, and they were standing more or less in the center of the Ninth Circle. The arch of the rocky dome atop Hell seemed as high and far away as Headquarters from down here.
Lucifer grinned his too-tight, bleached grin. “You idiot! You have no fucking idea!” And the blinding grin grew. And grew. And grew. In moments, Satan had grown to a hulking Seraph-sized Form. He laughed, and the ground shook, as Hell literally trembled beneath Lucifer’s feet.
“I will crush-“ he started. But then Lucifer was screaming. Ofdensen had just lit his sword on fire with his cigarette, and then neatly sliced off Seraph Lucifer’s right foot, through the ankle. Lucifer crashed down on his Seraphic ass, writhing in pain and surprise. As the ground shook again, Ofdensen was already running around the Morningstar, trying to duck his thrashing limbs, as Ganesh had taught him to. He climbed some rocks, and leapt off them, coming down square on Lucifer’s face, where he thrust the sword as deep as it would go into Lucifer’s eye.
The screaming intensified, and Lucifer, thrashing and grabbing his ruined eye, shrunk back to his Court Form.
“You mutilated me!”
“Trust me,” Ofdensen said, eyeing his now gooey sword with a bit of repugnance. “An eyepatch is gonna look a lot better than that facelift.”
“I’ll never give you Nathan!”
“We’ve already got Nathan,” Ofdensen told him. “Now, roll over.”
“What?”
“I said roll. The fuck. Over,” Ofdensen repeated, flourishing his flaming sword so it changed to a flaming hacksaw.
The pink Cadillac rolled into the burning city of Dis to the same kind of reception as astronauts returning from a moon voyage. There was ticker tape. Burning ticker tape.
Nathan was there at the side of the road, staring at them. They stopped the car and leapt out.
“Dudes!” called Nathan. “Did Lucifer kidnap you- ? HEY GET OFF ME TOKI!!!” Though the last was a bit muffled due to a flying tackle by a Norwegian.
“Dood, we’re here t’ rescue yoo,” Pickles told him, as they helped him back to his feet.
“You all CAME TO HELL? Seriously, that’s kind of awesome.”
“Didn’t you hear usch playing?” Murderface asked.
“Well, everybodies but Murderface ams playings,” Skwisgaar laughed.
“Seriously?” Nathan asked.
“Dood! We wuz set out right outside da gate. How bad is yer hearin’?” asked Pickles.
Nathan shook his head.
“I seriously t’ought you wuz singin’ wit’ us,” Pickles wondered.
Nathan pulled at the scarf he had wrapped around his neck. “No dudes. My voice SUCKS because of all this FUCKING SMOKE. This is a weird place. Everybody else here is a fucking musician. I mean, they’re all dead and stuff, and I’m not, but it’s kind of cool. There’s just no fucking music here. It’s fucked up.”
“Shoulds we ams get goings?” Toki asked. “Charles’ ams says….”
“Uh, did Charles…” Nathan started. “They never told me what happened….”
“He’s OK. He and Raz got out. He’s down here takin’ a meetin’ wit’ Satan,” Pickles explained.
“Ah. Hey. Cool. Hey, you guys wanna grab a beer before we go? They have great beer here in Hell.”
“Naw, dood….”
“We’re schupposed to get you and drive right back,” Murderface muttered.
“Aw, dudes, just one beer, I want you to meet some people.”
“We ams must get back to da surfaces!” Toki protested.
“Charles told you guys this?” They all nodded obediently. “But, that dude’s still at his meeting, right?” More nods. “Sooo, it won’t matter if we all stay and have JUST ONE BEER?”
All eyes had suddenly drifted over to an obviously uncomfortable Pickles. “What ams you t’inks, Pickle?” Skwisgaar asked, still strumming the Dethcopter solo on his Gibson.
“Well. Uh. I guess it’s just one beer. Right, doods?”
Nathan grinned.
Ofdensen paused for a moment in the middle of the Ninth Circle of Hell to light a cigarette.
It looked like Ganesh and Raziel had pretty much cleared the plains of the Ninth Circle. A few of the demons were slowly knitting themselves back together. They would all pull back together, eventually. The process was just a lot slower and more difficult for them after they’d been hit by a magicked sword.
A small, ethereally pale demon was descending from above, its dark wings outstretched. It alit on an outcropping and glared at him with large brown eyes. Ofdensen blinked at it. It looked awfully familiar.
“Raziel?” he gawped. “What the fuck?”
She sprang off the rocks and landed in front of him. It was Raziel. Tiny Raziel. Only, with dark angel wings. She Court Formed, and held out a hand. “Shirt?” she asked.
“What?”
“I need your shirt. Before somebody sees my tits.”
He tilted his head. “I can already see your tits.”
“Before somebody important sees my tits!”
He grinned, removed his jacket and gave her his shirt. She took it, but scrutinized the label very carefully before she donned it.
“How the fuck did you do that, anyway?” he asked.
“I dunno. I was trying to see if I could True Form to squash the last couple demons, and ended up going to that weird small Form instead.”
“Weird form? Isn’t that like my True Form? Which you’ve always told me is lovely and I shouldn’t bitch about it?”
“Uh, well. Anyway, it was cool, ‘cause I could fly around and not worry about bringing the fucking place down with an earthquake.“ She put a hand through her hair, which had remained dark when she transformed. “But, it totally messed up my dye job!”
“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but, your roots were showing. Just a little.”
“Oh really? Well, good! I guess maybe all the snake bites fucked with my magic?”
“Maybe it’s being here. Morningstar has a Seraph Form.”
“What?”
“It’s odd. It’s not quite like us. I mean, like you. But, it definitely resembled a Seraph.”
“That little maggot! What did you do?”
“Kicked his ass.”
“Cool. Are those his?”
Ofdensen nodded to the bloody severed wings leaning against an outcropping and smiled.
“Are we gonna haul them back? They’re kinda gross,” she asked.
“I dunno. I just didn’t wanna give him a chance to magick them back on, ya know? You got any other ideas?”
“Oh yeah!” she said. She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Suddenly the five huge wolves came romping over. “Hey, magical doggies,” she sang, putting her arms around the neck of one. “Wanna play fetch?”
“Hell beer is AWESOME!” Nathan concluded. And, he had consumed enough to be rather confident in his opinion.
Nathan - car - surface, thought Pickles, annoyed that he could still think. “Dood,” he ventured. “Maybe we better….”
“Oh, hey, dudes,” Nathan whispered in his not too whispery voice, you gotta see this.” Nathan turned around and signaled Hell’s Barmaid. “Hey, douche bag! Your beer SUCKS!”
The barmaid True Formed in a tangle of tentacles. Skwisgaar, startled, doubled down his fingering. The bar maid suddenly cringed, and appeared to cover where her ears would have been with what her hands would have been. She slithered out of the bar.
“Dammit, that wasch our waitressch!” Murderface grumbled.
“Hey, isn’t dat what happened wit dat Minotaur dude?”
“You guys saw A MINOTAUR? Awwww, that sounds AWESOME,” Nathan grumbled.
“Nat’an, would yoo do dat again? Wit’ da barmaid?”
“But that’sch the only other waitressch!” Murderface protested. Nevertheless, Nathan managed to insult the demon barmaid into some kind of giant cockroach, and then Skwisgaar made her scurry away with a riff.
The group at the table looked up. They had company.
“Oh, uh, sorry, dudes, my buddies just wanted me to show them that transforming shit.”
“Can we ask you something?” the dead souls asked. Pickles noted the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. He wasn’t exactly certain if it was because they were totally famous dudes, or because they were dead dudes. Or maybe both.
“Where did you get these instruments?” He was pointing to Skwisgaar’s spare Strat, which he’d also taken to the bar, in case he wanted to alternate his constant practice.
“Doods! Dere’s a fucking warehouse full o’ dis stuff like a mile up da road!”
“No way!” Nathan said.
“Yesch. It’s weird asch Hell! Hahahaha!”
“You dudes should totally go up there and grab guitars and then you could annoy your waitresses FOR ETERNITY!” Nathan laughed.
“Unfortunately, it’s not allowed.”
“We’re dead. So we’re assigned our place in Hell.”
“But, we ams opened da gates for ya!” Skwisgaar protested.
“This is our place.”
“Yer trapped in da burnin’ city?” Pickles asked. “Fer eternity an’ shit?”
They nodded.
“Oh. Dat’s too bad,” Pickles muttered. He knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and waited for someone else to say it.
“Maybes we ams gets dems somes more instruments before we ams goings?” Toki ventured. “Dey ams da goods guy.”
“I could get back there pretty quick in the car!” Murderface volunteered. “Though, schomebody would have to come with me to pack the inschtruments!”
Pickles still had his eyes shut. He knew everybody was looking at him. Nathan - car - surface.
Lord Ganesh was standing up on some rocks, still in four-armed Form, distractedly counting off on all of his many fingers.
“So. What else does he have multiples of?” Raziel whispered to Ofdensen, who elbowed her, a bit sharply, in the ribs.
“Ganesha!” Raziel called. Ganesh nodded, but continued counting off on his fingers.
Just then, a demon dropped down on him from up above. But before Raziel or Ofdensen could react, Ganesh turned and sliced its head off.
He jumped down, smiling.
“I knew I missed one!” Ganesh said.
“If that one put you over, I am going to be so mad!” Raziel announced.
“You took a head start!” Ganesh scolded her.
“You put on your extra arms!”
“You brought extra wolves!” Ganesh protested, pointing to two of the same, who were apparently wrestling over a feather pillow or something of the sort. “By the way, what happened here?”
“Sariel took a meeting with Satan.”
“Ah. How did that go?”
“I got his Bluetooth. And the ear.” Ofdensen grinned.
“Somehow I always imagined those devices originated from down here,” Ganesh mused, picking up his discarded shirt from where he’d laid it aside on some rocks and dusting it off.
“You’ve done humanity a service. Really,” said Raziel, watching her wolves mangle Lucifer’s wings.
“If you guys could put away your wolves and maybe uncork Garuda? I’d like to get back up there and check on the boys.”
Raziel whistled sharply and the furry beasts came galloping her way.
“You don’t think they are already on their way out, as we planned?” Ganesh inquired.
From the middle of a pack of wolves, Raziel started laughing. “You wanna bet on that Ganesh? I bet you the million billion dollars I won from Skwisgaar.”
“I just…. I’ll just feel better when we’re all the fuck out of here,” Ofdensen sighed. He somehow reckoned taking Dethklok to Hell was nothing on trying to pry their reluctant asses out of Hell.
It was bigger than Woodstock.
Or, maybe not.
But it had certainly attracted every damned soul in the vicinity.
Pickles stood to the side of the makeshift stage, arms crossed, a look of triumph on his face. He had been their leader, a responsibility that never weighed easily on him. And, as was typical, he had completely fucked up, well, all to Hell.
Maybe his dad had been right, and he belonged in a garbage can. But right now, he was pretty fucking proud of himself.
He felt someone grip his shoulder. He knew who it was. He knew before he even turned around.
“Pickles….” Charles started. Pickles glared back. He knew this look. He steeled himself. “What is happening? Where is the car? Where is…. Where is Nathan?”
“Nat’an is OK,” Pickles assured him. No reason to make the guy suffer, even if he was being an asshole. Or soon going to be an asshole. “We’re OK, dood. An…. I sent da car back to da place t’ get more instr’ments.”
Here it came. “You. Did. What?”
“Dood, ya don’t unnerstand.” Pickles waved at the stage. If he was gonna get yelled at, he was gonna say his fucking piece first. “Dey’re down here, an’ Loocifer took all deir instruments away. Now dey got a reason t’ live. Or, uh, not live, ‘cause dey’re dead I guess. Huh.”
“Pickles….”
“Anyway! Dood! He took away deir music. Douchifer. So, we jist sent da car back t’ pick some more stuff up. Instruments an’ stuff. We’ll get outta here. We will. Jist… Dey were cool t’ Nat’an. An’ we wanted t’ help. I mean, dey’re dead souls. Dey didn’t doo anyt’ing, dey’re jist dead. Dey’re TRAPPED here, Charles! Ferever.”
Pickles braced himself. But the storm didn’t come. Ofdensen was fumbling for a cigarette. “All right then,” he said, very quietly. “All right. We’ll go when the car comes back. Where’s Nathan?”
Raziel had wandered over to the stage. She had found Skwisgaar pretty quickly, as that blond head was easy to spot in a crowd. He had excused himself, to go chat with some musicians up on stage, but he had just come back to stand beside her.
There were two guitarists on the stage now tuning up. The guy wearing the hat with the silver band had restrung his Strat left-handed. The other guy - shy, blond, bearded - had a Gibson Les Paul.
“Oh my god, is that-“ Raziel started.
“I ams made da requests for ya,” Skwisgaar muttered into her ear. They both turned to watch the stage. The opening chord chimed, and then the drummer cut in, and then two guitarists began to chase each other, trading lines.
Skwisgaar started. Raziel had twined her small hand in his, and was holding on, very tightly.
“Those dudes aren’t bad,” said Nathan. “For old dead dudes.” Ofdensen, standing beside Nathan, nodded quietly. “You should have heard our set! Did Pickles tell you? We did three songs.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It was one of the four or five best we’ve ever done! Even with my voice rough! It was better than Marrakesh!”
“Uh-huh.”
“That was one of our best. Don’t you think it was one of our best?” Ofdensen shrugged, so Nathan pressed, “What did you think was our best gig?”
“Uh. It’s hard to pick.” He became aware of Nathan scowling at him. “Look, Nathan, I don’t always get to, uh, hear you guys play.”
“What?”
“Cause he’s doin’ other shit, Nat’an,” Pickles snorted.
“Wait, you don’t hear the fucking shows?”
“I’m there for the shows,” Ofdensen said, now scowling himself. “You know that. I’m always there for the shows.”
“But you don’t listen?”
“Dood, he doesn’t get t’ listen ‘cause he’s tryin’ to make sure the fuckin’ stage don’t burn down,” Pickles laughed, putting a friendly arm around their frowning manager’s shoulders. “Which it usually does anyway. Heh.”
Murderface and Knubbler approached Pickles. “That’s the lascht of the inschtruments,” Murderface told Pickles. “Hey, Ofdenschen. How was the meeting?”
Ofdensen shrugged. “We had a very civil discussion.”
“Yesch?”
“And then I cut his wings off with a fucking hacksaw.”
Murderface grinned. “Aweschome,” he said.
Pickles gaped, taking his arm off their manager’s shoulders. “Dood…” he began.
But Ofdensen had turned around. Ganesh had just tapped his shoulder.
“I don’t wish to seem uncordial….” The god began.
“I don’t think it’s possible for you,” Ofdensen told him, shaking his head.
“My father used to tell me, regarding mountaineering in the Himalayas, that one rarely lost a man on the ascent. It was always the descent where problems seemed to occur.”
“We need to get our ass out of here, in other words?”
“Despite the conducive company, yes, this is still technically enemy territory.”
“Noted. Gather everybody around the car. Let’s get going.” He reeled at the tremor.
“Was that an earthquake?” Ganesh said.
“No. Get everyone. Now. William?”
“Yesch.”
“You still got those explosives in your bag?”
Murderface grinned.
The sky above burning city of Dis was still orange when the Pink Cadillac tore off up the road to Hell, William Murderface at the wheel. But there was now the added crimson and brown splash from the mushroom cloud that had formerly been Styx Station on Satan’s bullet train system.
“I feel sorta bad destroying that,” Nathan mused. “I mean, even though Satan is kind of a douche. It’s cool to have a bullet train.”
They drove in silence. The tremors were becoming more powerful and more frequent. The road to Hell was in notably worse shape than on the descent, and a couple places, Murderface had a job threading the large car between rockslides and the sheer edge of the road. There were no guard rails in Hell.
Kwahu alit on the front seat and transformed. “Oh, man, dudes. This is not good.”
But Ofdensen didn’t have to ask. They approached the tunnel to the back door of Hell. It had been completely collapsed in one of the rockslides.
Mufderface stopped the car and Ofdensen leapt out to look. The ground began to shake again.
“William? Car keys.” The bassist tossed the keys to Ofdensen.
“Raziel?” She nodded. He handed her the keys. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
The small angel was already starting the car, tossing her shoes into the back. “Watch the clutch!” Murderface warned her. Raziel ignored him. She jammed it into gear and they were all pushed back with the acceleration. She clipped corners, and veered too close to the edge.
“This ain’t a fucking Ferrari!” Murderface finally screamed through tightly clenched eyes.
“It is if ya know how to fucking drive it,” Raziel yelled back. And she didn’t engage the brake until they arrived, with a squeal of tires, at the tunnel that bored under the Acheron river, and into Purgatory.
They slammed to a halt just as another tremor sent the DANGER sign tumbling down into the pits of Hell.
“Everybody into the fucking tunnel NOW!” Ofdensen screamed. For once, there wasn’t any debate.
And then he turned back, and saw the reason for the tremors. He felt Ganesh grabbing his jacket, and he turned and ran into the tunnel.
“Kwahu,” Ofdensen ordered. “Go find an elevator. Any fucking elevator.”
“You got it dude,” the eagle Kachina agreed, swiftly going to bird Form.
“Murderface! Where’s the rest of the explosives?” The bassist eagerly dug in his bag. “Just toss me whatever we have. Everybody else? Keep going. Into the mall.”
“Into da what?” Pickles said, but, like everyone else, he was now running towards Purgatory.
Ofdensen spread the charges around the tunnel. And then he threw himself to the ground. A Seraph who was too big to fit into the tunnel entrance was poking at him with a huge flaming sword. Then Ofdensen felt a tug on his collar, and he was suddenly at the other end of the tunnel, near the exit doors, on top of Raziel, who was yelling, “GOT ‘EM! DO IT!” Murderface, who was also by the door, drawing a bead with his gun, squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the explosives, and the tunnel turned into an orange ball of flame. They were all three knocked back several feet by the concussive force.
“God I love blowin’ schit up!” Murderface laughed.
Ofdensen pushed himself up and looked around. Someone had turned the lights off in Purgatory.
“Dis ams a shoppings mall?” Skwisgaar asked, shining a flashlight around.
“Where did all the shoppers go?” Nathan asked.
“Hey angel homeboy!” Kwahu hissed. “Found your elevators! But they’re stuck. Like fucking everything here.”
“Raziel, can you jump up an elevator shaft to the surface from here?”
“Oh, fuck yeah!”
The ground trembled. One of the mannequins in the Contempo Casuals window toppled over through the plate glass window in the front of the shop with a smash. And then there was more smashing glass, from the other end of the mall.
“They’re coming over the Acheron now. Which way, Kwahu?” The eagle Kachina led them through the darkened shopping mall. The tremors were coming more frequently, and more powerfully. They picked their way over broken glass to what looked like a bank of service elevators. Ganesh made a sweeping gesture with his arms, and the doors popped open to reveal an empty, darkened elevator shaft.
“Raziel?” Ofdensen asked. But she had already grabbed Pickles in a flying tackle and jumped into the shaft. And then they were gone, just as the Seraphim smashed into view.
“Fuck,” Ofdensen whispered.
Dick Knubbler was peering up an elevator shaft, his eyes blinking green. “It’s been a long time, baby, but I think Dick Knubbler may have a jump left in him, yeah.” Ofdensen nodded to him, and drew a sword. Ganesh drew a sword and also flourished a trident.
“Willie, babe!” Knubbler told Murderface. “Gimme your hand, baby, yeah!”
“WHOA!” said Pickles. The little angel giggled and scrambled out from beneath him. He rose, helping her up. “Dat was awesome!”
“We can try that again some time when we’re not all gonna die,” Raziel told him. She looked around. They were in a wilderness area, though not the same one they’d gone to for the back door to Hell. It looked like they were near an old abandoned mine. They were next to the mine elevator rig, a mess of gears and metal beams, which looked a bit like the world’s biggest, coolest Erector set. “Speaking of which, I gotta get….”
“HOLY FUCKING SCHIT!” Murderface screamed as he suddenly appeared. Pickles and Raziel pulled the dazed bassist off of an even more dazed looking Dick Knubbler. The producing angel’s robot eyes were squeezed closed. “Dick?” asked Pickles. “Dood? Yer OK?”
The robot irises opened, blinking red to green to red. “Sorry babies, yeah. It’s been a while since Dick Knubbler tried that, yeah.”
“Look after him?” Raziel asked Pickles. He nodded, and she jumped into the elevator rig.
“Uh, you’re gonna fight those dudes?” Nathan was asking Ofdensen.
“No. We’re gonna hold ‘em off. Now fucking stay back, Nathan. Or I WILL kill you myself.”
The two Seraphim stood awkwardly in the center of the darkened mall atrium. There was not quite enough room for them to stand shoulder to shoulder, and they were both a bit hunched over. Raziel was right, Ofdensen reflected. There actually were disadvantages to having a hulking fighting form.
At that exact moment the small angel appeared, muttered, “Sorry, got delayed,” grabbed a very surprised Toki by the collar, and evaporated again, Norwegian guitarist in tow.
Ganesh threw his trident into the foot of the nearest Seraph. The giant reeled, now pinned to the ground, and managed to shove his buddy back with his flailing. The ground shook, and there was more glass shattering. A huge crack appeared in the center of the floor. There was an eerie orange glow visible inside the crack. Ganesh was already climbing up to the second floor of the mall. Ofdensen ran around to where the second Seraph was still trying to keep his footing. One slash of his sword, and the giant’s Achilles tendon was severed in his right foot. The Seraph stomped down, hard. The ground trembled, and the crack in the floor ripped open into a giant crevasse, right down the center of the floor, between the Sports Authority and Nordstrom.
Raziel appeared again. “C’mon, Blondie!” she yelled, grabbing Skwisgaar this time.
Ofdensen cut the Seraph’s other tendon. The Seraph fell hard, collapsing into the floor, and then taking most of the floor with him, as the crevasse widened into canyon. He peered over, but couldn’t see the Seraph, nor the bottom of the yawning hole. Ofdensen started running back around to where Nathan was still standing on the narrow shelf in front of the elevator shafts.
Ganesh was up on the second floor balcony, expertly slitting the first Seraph’s throat. Blood geysered out of the giant’s neck. The Seraph clutched blindly. He grabbed Ganesh, who cried out, and then disappeared as they both tumbled into the yawning crevasse.
Ofdensen found himself being punched hard in the shoulder. It was Raziel. “GO GET HIM! I GOT THIS!” And so saying she shoved Nathan into the elevator shaft.
Sariel was already True Form, trying to fly fast enough to catch up to a falling giant. The Seraph was clinging to the side of the crevasse with one hand, Ganesh unconscious in the other mighty hand. Then the Seraph screamed. Kwahu the eagle had just flown into his eye. The Seraph dropped Ganesh and lost purchase on the side. He fell, all giant thrashing limbs, as Sariel dove after Ganesh. Sariel came up just under the elephant god and slammed him to the side of the crevasse, somehow just missing the dying Seraph’s madly thrashing arm. Then he grabbed Ganesh as tightly as he could under his arms and, with Kwahu circling them, flew him up to the top of the crevasse and then straight towards elevator shaft. Kwahu landed on Sariel’s shoulder, his eagle talons digging deep. They careened into a shaft, and Sariel jumped.
“You were grabbing my tits!” Raziel was shouting.
“I was not grabbing your tits!” Nathan protested.
“You were totally grabbing my tits!”
“Maybe I was kind of grabbing your tits!”
“Goddammit Nathan-.“ But then she froze. Everybody stopped.
“I don’t think his heart is beating.” Sariel could barely manage a whisper, but they were all gathered around, silent.
Instantly, Dick Knubbler was at Ganesh’s side. “Stand back and let Dick Knubbler work, yeah. Pickles, the medical bag!” The redheaded drummer leapt over and grabbed the black bag. He dragged it over to Ganesh’s lifeless body.
“Ten CCs of epinephrine baby. Stat. Yeah,” he told Pickles. “In the biggest gauge needle, yeah.” Pickles obediently located the bottle of adrenaline and loaded a syringe, flicking out the bubbles. He slapped it into the record producer’s right palm. Kumbbler had unbuttoned Ganesh’s shirt, and was already feeling carefully for Ganesh’s breastbone with his left hand. He spread his fingers around the proper spot.
He stabbed the elephant god in the chest with the big needle, pushing the drug straight into his heart.
There was a gasp. Ganesh was sitting bolt upright, the needle still in his heart, his eyes wide open.
“Ha!” Raziel shouted, her arms encircling the record producer.
“You learn some things, being in this business forever baby, yeah!” Dick Knubbler grinned. He leaned over and plucked the needle out of the elephant god’s chest.
There were almost as many hands on Ganesh as he possessed himself. “I was dreaming….” Ganesh whispered. “The wheel…. The wheel of karma….”
Sariel traced a strand of Ganesh’s hair back behind his ear. “Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.”
True to the cliché that doctors make the worst patients, Ganesh would not lie down quietly and wait for medical evacuation, but instead insisted on personally attending to the injuries of every single member of the expedition before he would conscience leaving. And this, even though he admitted he knew next to nothing regarding angel physiology, and just plain nothing of the workings of Kachinas. Surprisingly, there was nothing life-threatening, although Nathan was still complaining about his voice.
“So I ams now da only livings guitarist to opens da gates of Hell!” Skwisgaar was bragging.
“We ams both da guitarists, Skiwsgaar,” Toki reminded him.
“Well, ja, I guesses…” Skwisgaar muttered.
“Doods, I play da guitar too! So, I’m a guitarist who opened dat gate!” Pickles laughed. Skwisgaar scowled and played an unpleasant riff.
“And I played bassch guitar!”
“You ams pretend playings!”
“I should get back,” Raziel said, happily watching the squabble. “Wotan’s gonna wanna hear about all this from me.”
“Let me give you something for those serpent bites,” Ganesh told her. She protectively laced an arm around his waist and led him off to where he had set down the medical pack. He rummaged around and extracted a small jar. “If you apply this each night,” he explained, “it should eliminate the possibility of any scarring. You might need to get Wotan to make sure you’ve covered all areas.” He grinned. “I trust he won’t find this assignment onerous?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine with that!” Razlei giggled. She tugged on Ganesh’s collar to bring his head down to where she could kiss him on his cheeks. “Thanks, Gimli!”
“Any time, Legolas.”
“Why don’t I ever get the fucking air kiss bullshit?”
She looked over to where Ofdensen was glaring at her. “Well, for one, thing,” she counted on her fingers, “you hate people touching you….”
“You do?” asked Ganesh.
“You hate pointless social gestures. You find me irritating….”
“Everybody finds you irritating, Raziel!”
She stalked over, grabbed the collar of his badly torn jacket to pull his face down, and kissed him on both cheeks.
“Ya know, I just bought this jacket,” he told her, grinning down at her hand on his collar.
She threw her hands up in mock despair, smiled, and disappeared.
“Shall I be careful of your jacket?” Ganesh laughed. Ofdensen shook his head. And so he wasn’t.
“I need to go too,” Ganesh said at last.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I believe so. I will return to my father’s palace, where I will be attended to. But I think you will be well disposed to come and check on me at your earliest opportunity?” And with that, Ganesh smiled and disappeared as well.
“Don’t I get da air kisses?”
Ofdensen jerked around to see Pickles grinning madly at him.
“Fuck off, Pickles,” he grumbled.
“What about a blow job?” the drummer laughed, hooking an elbow around his manager’s neck.
“Fuck off, Pickles.” Though, he was smiling when he said it.
They returned to where the rest of the party was milling around.
“Can I offer you dudes a ride home?” asked Kwahu.
“What do you think, Nathan?” Ofdensen winced. He thought Nathan might crush his shoulder in his grip.
“OH FUCK YEAH,” Nathan said.
Hon the Bear Kachina waved from the back of the flying serpent. It floated gracefully down to earth, like a green banner in the wind.
Nathan was at his office door.
Ofdensen did something he rarely did. He smiled.
He beckoned the singer to enter. Nathan sat, but looked uncomfortable.
Ofdensen was already pouring out a glass of Scotch. “You doin’ OK?” he asked. “I guess we haven’t had a chance to talk since…. You know.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, knocking back some Scotch. “That’s why I’m here. We need to talk.”
Ofdensen’s heart stopped. It was something about the way he said it. “Uh. Yeah?”
“I just did some thinking,” Nathan said, looking into his empty glass. “When I was down in Hell.”
“I suppose that would make anyone think.”
“About my life.” Nathan looked up.
“OK. Something you wanna share?”
“I’m thinking about taking a break.”
“Taking a break?”
“You know. From Dethklok.”