Scraps (Mythklok Chapter 97)

[tikific]

Title: Scraps (Mythklok Chapter 97)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A search and rescue mission.
Warnings: Just the usual nonsense
Notes: After jump




Last time: we listened to a goddess. And Charles lost something important.



“Go and fetch Skwisgaar. Immediately. I don’t give a flying fuck whether or not he is wearing pants!” ordered Ganesh before Nathan had time to object. “And Nathan! Do not tell him anything, just tell him to get his ass in here,” he added as the singer hastened out the door.

Charles had not moved from the spot – that spot – in his office. He wasn’t sure how Ganesh knew what had happened: he hadn’t called, but he had been there within seconds, along with Pickles. And then there were more people, and activity around him. Most of the band was here. Toki, who was wearing pajamas, had already situated himself on one of the couches with that stupid fucking scrapbook. Charles wanted to tear it from him, to rip out all the page, to scatter them. And to take the scissors, the ones little Elias had used to give himself a haircut, to take them, and….

Something.

But he couldn’t move.

Pickles was sitting next to Charles, not talking. And then Ganesh was kneeling in front of him, strong slim hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. “Jaanu. One more time. For me.”

Pickles was handing him something. A glass. Charles prayed it wasn’t water.

It wasn’t.

He downed every drop.

“I heard him say, ‘The Abyss, Daddy.’ He said it more than once….”

“You were…?”

“At my desk. Over there. And then I heard it. It’s difficult to describe. Like an angel chorus, but what it sounded like back when I couldn’t hear well. And I looked up. And … there was a hole. Here. Right here. And I said no, but Boon was in and the dog was in and then … it closed.” He gasped on the last word. He reached for the glass, which was miraculously filled up again.

“What da fucks ams happens here?” yawned Skwisgaar, who had in fact donned pants, but not anything else, for the occasion.

“Everybody!” said Ganesh, standing up. “Silence! Skwisgaar, you look, you tell me. Now.”

Skwisgaar frowned, but immediately came over to where Charles was kneeling on the floor. He glanced at Ganesh, inclining his head at Charles.

“Pickles?” asked Ganesh. The drummer grabbed Charles by the shoulders and led him over to sit on one of the couches next to Toki. Skwisgaar then proceeded to walk around, glaring at the ground, for an excruciating amount of time.

“Boom ams here,” he finally said, backing up a few steps. “An’ den he ams not. Hims ams goes,” and here, to Charles’ astonishment, Skwisgaar ran the exact same steps as his child, freezing at the exact spot where….

“Den,” said Skwisgaar, smacking his hands together. “Ams big magicks. I ams not knows. Likes da angels shits. But not.”

“He’s gont the Abyss. They got him. I know it,” said Charles.

“We do not know that,” said Ganesh.

“Ja,” said Toki. “Booms ams at the Abysses.”

“What?” asked Ganesh.

“It ams here,” Toki volunteered, scooting closer to Charles on the couch and displaying the pages of his scrapbook.

“Holy fucking shit!” said Charles. Suddenly, Ganesh and Skwisgaar were hovering over as well, and Nathan was peeking over the back of the couch. Toki turned the pages. There were photographs, looking like old-fashioned Polaroids, bordered by gold thread and sprinkles of glitter, of Charles’ office just before Elias disappeared. Elias was running and running, and then there was a picture of him darting into the hole, as well as another picture of Murgatroyd, his little belly almost getting stuck on the rapidly narrowing opening.

“How the fuck did you get these?” asked Charles, yanking the scrapbook into his lap.

“Do not ask,” counseled Ganesh, who was crouching in front of them. “Now. Why do you believe Boon went to the Abyss, Toki?” he asked softly.

“You ams sees dis?” asked Toki, reaching over to back up a page. Everyone leaned over a bit more. There was also a photo of just the hole, opened wide. And something was barely visible through it.

“Sariel! Do you have a magnifying glass?” asked Ganesh.

“The desk!” said Charles, his hands trembling on the book. “Top left.”

“Ams da temples!” said Toki as Ganesh rifled through a drawer. Ganesh ran back, kneeling beside Charles and handing him over the glass.

“That looks like what Durga talked about,” said Charles as Ganesh squinted into the glass.

“It looks the worse for wear,” commented Ganesh. Indeed, it looked as if it had been through an earthquake or some like calamity.

“It ams back here!” said Toki, digging into his cloth bag for another scrapbook. On the binding, Charles noticed, was written,”GURGLE.” Toki flipped it open. Glued to the pages was a series of the odd Polaroid-looking photos, all evidently taken on Durga’s journey upriver, as well as some other items, such as a ticket stub for Chauron’s boat.

“I’ll be fucked up the ass,” muttered Charles, who now had no idea whether or not he was dreaming.

“Dude has a magical fucking scrapbook?” asked Nathan, who was now leaning over the back of the couch. “That’s pretty fucked up shit. So, we’re going to get Boon, right?”

“I guess…” said Charles, who really had no idea about anything any more.

“Yes, Uncle,” Ganesh was saying into his cell phone. He stood up and began pacing. “It’s a long story, but we suspect he’s been taken to the Abyss. Yes, the wolf went with him, if it makes any difference. I’ve no idea. No. Yes, can you contact him? Dawn, yes. I will get the word out as well.” Ganesh pressed a button on the phone, and then frowned as it rang almost immediately. “Yes? Your burrito is cold…. I am terribly sorry, Edgar but now is not-” Ganesh then paused, listening silently for a time. “OK, yes, and see that they’re there and ready too,” he finally said, stabbing the END CALL button on his phone. “Pickles?” said Ganesh, nodding his head at Charles as if he weren’t there. Pickles gently grabbed Charles’ shoulders and brought him up standing. Charles kept Toki’s photo album gripped tightly in his hands. Toki smiled sweetly, not seeming to object in the least to this, even though he had been carting the volume around obsessively for weeks.

“C’mon, chief,” said Pickles very quietly as they followed Ganesh out of the office and down the hallway. They came to an elevator. Ganesh simultaneously pressed two buttons. He did it casually, as if it were something he had done many times. Charles found himself wondering how much Ganesh had been talking to Edgar. They certainly seemed an unlikely pairing. And then the three of them were down and inside a familiar basement room. A group had already gathered: besides Edgar, hanging irritably in his sling, there were a couple of lab-coated scientists, plus someone Charles thought he recognized as one of the servants who worked in Ganesh’s area of the kitchen.

“This burrito…” began Edgar, striking, as usual, to the heart of things.

“It is vegan. We have conversed about your diet, as you’ll remember,” said Ganesh.

They scowled at one another for a moment, but then Edgar said, “All right, very good.” The servant bowed and departed. “Now, gentlemen, can we have the device for testing?” he asked the scientists.

Charles blinked. He was in no mood for either a Jomfru brother or the chatty scientists. “Yes, we have it right here!” said the bald one, holding up something that looked like a vial of eye drops.

“It’s still in beta!” cautioned the other scientist.

“Yes, so we must use caution!”

“Caution, it’s true, must be-“

“May I?” interrupted Ganesh, grabbing away the little bottle, which he skeptically held up to the light. “And this is just altered water?”

“Yes, water,” said scientist number one.

“Which we have altered,” added scientist number two.

“All right,” said Ganesh.

“But it won’t work on humans!”

“No too weak!”

“Too weak!”

“But you believe,” asked Ganesh, “that it will serve on Charles?”

“Oh yes!”

“Else we would have bothered you!”

“Really wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Sariel,” said Ganesh, holding up the bottle. “These are ear drops.”

“Why do I need ear drops?” asked Charles.

“They have been adapted!” babbled a scientist.

“From the recording water.”

“You guys want me to have Dethklok records in my ear?” asked Charles.

“Well, no, if I understand correctly it is a receiver,” said Ganesh. “As well as, we hope, a transmitter.”

“Works on animals!” said a scientist.

“Works just fine!”

“On dogs!”

“Then give it to a fucking wolf,” muttered Charles, who was still confused.

“Edgar wishes to keep in contact. When we journey to the Abyss,” explained Ganesh.

Charles was silent for a long moment. “Edgar?” he asked at last.

Edgar looked down, as if guilty about something. He looked up, glaring at Charles. “We have lost our best Charles Ofdensen player from the RP, now that Cecily has gone on maternity leave.”

“You want Boon back. For your RP?” asked Charles.

“Well, of course!” huffed Edgar. “You will never be any good at playing yourself.”

“You hate kids?” asked Charles quietly.

“Of course I despise children, most particularly any spawn of yours! There is not a speck of sentiment about this decision!”

Charles searched Edgar for a time, and then handed Toki’s scrapbook over to Pickles. He nodded at Ganesh, who, carefully tilting Charles’ head to one side, used the eyedropper to let one scant drop fall into his ear.

“All right,” said Ganesh.

Edgar picked up a headset and flicked a switch on an odd looking device that somewhat resembled an old computer console. It was topped by a large radar dish. “Ahem,” he said, “Testing 1-2-3.”

“VOLUME!” shrieked Charles, who was on the ground cradling his head, Ganesh and Pickles at his side. Ganesh pushed his hand down, to signal “lower.”

Edgar turned a dial all the way over to the left and then leaned forward whispering, “Testing, 1-2-3?”

Charles, still sitting on the floor, rubbing his ear, nodded.

“Say something?” asked Edgar at a voice now just above a whisper.

“My ear fucking hurts,” grumbled Charles. Everyone looked over at Edgar, who was signaling thumbs up.

“That’s incredible!” said a scientist, high fiving his colleague.

“Will this work in the Abyss?” asked Charles.

“Sadly, we will not know until we actually arrive,” said Ganesh. “It is however nearly certain that our portable electronic devices will no longer be useful.”

“That location is off the grid!” stated Edgar, taking a healthy bite of his vegan burrito. “You will thank me for my participation in this matter. Oh, this is rather tasty actually,” he commented, rubbing vegan refried black beans from the edge of his mouth.

“Thank you, Edgar,” said Ganesh, putting a hand under one of Charles’ arms, and he and Pickles helped Charles to his feet. “I shall convey your comments to my staff.”

“Veegun buhrrito, dood?” asked Pickles as they once again assembled in the elevator.

“His cholesterol levels are alarmingly high,” sighed Ganesh, who already had his cell phone to his ear. “Can you please take him to our quarters?” he asked, indicating Charles. “And give him … something? I will be along in a while.”

“Wait, I don’t wanna sleep! I can’t sleep!” protested Charles.

“You are in shock and shall be of no use to any of us,” said Ganesh. “We will need you at your peak on the morrow.”

Charles nodded glumly, too weak and sad to argue. The decision had been made without him. No time to plan. As Ganesh went stalking off, ear glued to phone, Charles wandered off to his suite, where Pickles fixed him a drink, and then he found himself drifting off to a lonely, dreamless sleep.

He wasn’t exactly certain how he’d gotten into the bed, but he stirred when Ganesh climbed in, moments or hours or days later, he had no idea.

And then Ganesh’s many hands were on him, peeling off his clothes.

“Ganesh….”

“I need you now, Sariel. I really need you,” came the rough voice. Charles twisted around, holding Ganesh’s face still in the dark in his two hands. He saw clearly in the dimness the stark terror in his partner’s eyes, the fierce hollowness he felt himself. He consciously relaxed the tenseness in his body, submitting himself, letting Ganesh touch him and stroke him and penetrate him any way he wanted, until they were wrapped together, so many hands holding him tightly, as if they would never let go.

“We’ll find them, right? The ones who did this?” Charles asked.

“We will find them. And we will kill them.”

“And we’ll find him?”

Now it was Ganesh staring deeply into his eyes. “Can you hear him still?” he asked. “You have the power.”

“I don’t know,” said Charles, who hadn't thought of trying that trick. “He's so far away....”

“Try. Try now.”

Charles went silent, relaxing against Ganesh’s chest, concentrating his highly tuned hearing, drifting past the strong thump of Ganesh’s expectant heart, and down the hall, Skwisgaar’s fingers plucking sitar strings while groupies snored softly; someone chopping vegetables in the kitchen, the soft sound of the knife on a cutting board, Nathan pushing back in his seat with a high pitched squeak while Murderface sliced the peel from an apple with his quick hunting knife; further down the hall, the slight creak of a footpedal when Pickles changed the television channel.

And then far away, up to Valhalla, the very quiet snip of Toki’s shears as he sat in the dining hall with Raziel and Wotan, the rustle of scrapbook pictures spreading out on the table.

And then so very far away, farther than he had ever tried before, a strange place over the edge of the world, down a dangerous cliff, and up a burbling river, to a temple grounds, where birds sang and monkeys called.

And there it was.

The rough, rude little angel snore.

Charles exhaled: Ganesh had felt him tense, felt the instant when he sensed Elias, and tightened his arms.

“He’s there?” asked Ganesh. “He is there?”

“He’s there,” said Charles, who now also felt Ganesh dissolving into sobs. “He’s there. He's all right. We’ll get him. We’ll get him.” And they lay that way for a while. The relief: he couldn't express it. He wanted to leap from the bed, that instant, and charge off after his child. No, he told himself, they had to plan. Like adults.

Charles waited what seemed an eternity until he felt Ganesh's breathing return to normal. “Tell me what's going on,” he said. “Is Toki up at Valhalla?”

“Yes, Raziel rather dragged him up,” said Ganesh. “The family is picking apart the photo albums, trying to determine the best strategy. I'm afraid I was having trouble … concentrating, so she sent me packing,” he concluded.

“I'm having trouble too.”

“You've had a shock!” whispered Ganesh, putting hands through Charles' hair.

“You don't blame me?”

“Of course not,” said Ganesh. Charles felt him shaking his head. “Our boy is an escape artist. And at any rate. Casting blame is not going to get us anywhere. We need a plan. Raziel was feeling thwarted by the descent in to the Abyss, the place where Durga lost her army. It seems we will be very vulnerable at that time as well. It is a very critical first step, and all else depends upon it!”

“Well, huh,” said Charles. “Maybe Durga's shiny jeweled platinum card whatever army wasn't such great shakes?”

Ganesh laughed softly. “Between my father and my uncles it would have been a grand army. I do not think that was the case.”

“Do you think they’d be willing to conjure us something like that? Boon’s an heir!”

“Without my father, the Trimurti would not be able to pull such a trick I am afraid,” said Ganesh.

Charles frowned, considering his options. He sensed Ganesh doing the same. “You want me to help you get some sleep?” he asked Ganesh.

“I suppose that would be for the best,” said Ganesh.

Charles pushed back the covers and True Formed. “Come on,” he said, opening his wings so Ganesh could crawl inside.

Angels can grant sweet dreams.

When they are of the mind to.



Charles was up early, anxious to get something accomplished, although he wasn't quite certain what. He had heard the scuffling outside their bedroom door. Klokateers, come in to do some light housekeeping. Pie (his receptionist) had managed to assemble a team that only rarely shattered Ganesh's martini glasses.

He shuffled into the kitchen, coffee on his mind, when he saw it.

“Stop it! DON'T TOUCH THAT!” he gasped, leaping to wrest the sacred object from the fiend who dared touch it.

“Jaanu?” It's was Ganesh's voice, soft, from the doorway, staring at him, half crazed winged being wrestling with a hooded figure over a grubby cereal bowl that had been left in the sink, full of soggy Metal Flakes.

“That's his bowl!” babbled Charles. “He's coming back! He'll need to use it!”

Ganesh was over, handing him the bowl, and then, arms curled around the Klokateer, marching them out of the kitchen while talking so very soothingly to them.

“Now then,” he said, returning. He reached over and, taking Charles' shaking hands in his, helped him place Elias' cereal bowl carefully back in the sink. “There we are. It will be all ready for him.” He stopped and kissed Charles on the top of the head.

“I might go run around the grounds, I thought,” said Ganesh. Charles looked at him. Yes, he was dressed in his running tights. “Did you wish to come along?”

“I'm going to....” What, exactly, was he going to do? “I'm going to walk around. See if the boys need me.”

“All rightie. That is a good idea,” said Ganesh. “I will be back shortly. All right?”

“Of course. Of course.”

Charles wandered the halls with little purpose for a time. He ran into Skwisgaar, who was sitting in the living room, doodling on his sitar. Charles assumed that the guitarist had never been to bed.

“Oh, hey, that reminds me,” said Charles, regarding the large, clumsy instrument. “Skwisgaar, I have something for you.” He indicated Skwisgaar to follow him, and for once, the Swede went without protest.

Charles and Skwisgaar remained silent on the walk through Mordhaus. At last, Charles opened the door to his workshop and let Skwisgaar inside. He then squeezed in his broad silver wings (he hadn’t yet bothered to Court Form) and followed Skwisgaar through the door. Charles went to the wall and pulled down a guitar strap that was hanging there. He then attached it to the brand new guitar that was lying on his workbench.

“I wanted Boon to be here too. He helped. But I think this will be less clumsy to take along,” said Charles, holding it out for Skwisgaar. “I mean, if you go along,” he added.

Skwisgaar stood for a moment, staring at the guitar, blue eyes flickering over it.

“Uh, Skwisgaar?” said Charles, suddenly feeling awkward.

At last, after carefully setting aside his sitar, Skwisgaar took the guitar, but, to Charles’ surprise, did not immediately put on the strap. Instead he stared at it, turning it over and over, holding it up to see the flash of the finish in the light, running his long fingers over the body. Charles hopped up on a stool and fluttered his wings nervously.

Apparently satisfied, Skwisgaar put the strap over his head. “You ams gots da amp?” he asked. Charles scrambled off the stool and dragged over a large Marshall amp, which he plugged in. It sprang to life with a low hum. Skwisgaar sneered and bowed his head over the instrument, but, to Charles’ exasperation, still did not play.

Skwisgaar looked up, studying Charles. “Ganoshes, he ams helped wit’ dis?”

“Well, yes, actually. He did help. A little bit,” said Charles, a bit wonderingly.

“You ams calls him?”

“Here? Uh, OK,” said Charles, taking out his cell phone. “Uh, Ganesh? Are you back from running?”

“Sariel?” came the voice over the phone. Charles could hear a lot of chatter in the background. “I never made it out to run! You ought come outside!”

“I’m giving Skwisgaar the guitar. The new guitar? Uh, he asked for you?”

“Oh, yes! I know exactly what’s needed. I shall be by directly.”

Ganesh bustled in a few minutes later, carrying an aarti plate and a small tin bowl. “Lord of Beginnings, at your service,” he said, using his cigarette lighter to light three wicks floating in ghee butter on the ornate bronze aarti plate. Holding the plate with two hands he swirled it around in a circular motion, seeming to cup the smoke in two more hands. He applied a smoky hand to Skwisgaar’s head, and then another hand to Charles’ head.

“And da geetar!” insisted Skwisgaar.

“All rightie,” smiled Ganesh, swishing smoke onto the guitar as well. Ganesh set down the aarti plate and, dipping his finger in the red powder in the tin, applied a red tilaka mark to Skwisgaar and then one to Charles.

“Uh, OK now?” Charles asked Skwisgaar.

The Sweded nodded and, for the second time, donned the new guitar, this time letting his fingers dance up and down the frets. And then, seeming to be gathering himself, he bowed low, letting his blond hair hang down halfway to the ground.

And then he was all motion, frantic fingers, body rocking, exquisite blond hair swinging everywhere.

The Star Spangled Banner, in all its brutal glory, chunky with buzzy feedback and sonorous overtones.

“Metal!” whispered Charles, who found he was shivering. He and Ganesh listened in wonder.

At length, reverberations from the last chord had ceased.

Skwisgaar looked up.

“Ja, dis ams bes all right. I ams guesses.” And with that, being careful to heft his sitar as well, he took the guitar and departed.

The door shut with a thump.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” muttered Charles.

Ganesh was gripping him by the shoulder. “I think perhaps a long shower. And then breakfast.”

“Don’t we need to get going?” worried Charles.

“No. Well, we do need to get on, but we are still awaiting the rest of our army.”

“What do you mean, our army?” asked Charles. Ganesh didn’t answer, but strode over to the workshop’s high window and pushed it open. Even True Formed, Charles was too short to see, so he scooted up a stool and knelt on it, peering out.

The courtyard was utterly teeming with beings. Some Klokateers had brought out long tables, and were beginning to spread out what looked like a breakfast buffet.

“What the hell is this? Who are all these people?” asked Charles.

“Lady Raziel and I spent some time on the phone last night getting the word out to other pantheons.”

“And some of those guys came?”

“All of them came. All of them. And more,” said Ganesh, a slight wonder in his voice.

Charles leapt off the stool. “This is good. This is very good. Maybe…. Maybe then we could convince Dethklok to stay here: we have enough guys.”

“You believe you can convince the boys to stay?” asked Ganesh, leaning back against the workbench and tilting his head at Charles.

“Look, at least say you’ll try and help me! But Dethklok are-“

“A demigod, a demi-demon, a demi-angel, and a demi-elder god,” ticked off Ganesh.

“Yeah, but Nathan is human.”

“You believe Nathan can be convinced to stay back from his band? On a search for Boon?”

Charles crossed his arms stubbornly, and flapped his wings irritably, sending bits of sawdust flying.

“How about this?” Ganesh suggested. “If we have sufficient resources, perhaps we can delegate some personnel to keeping your boys, er, out of the worst of it?”

Charles sighed, but nodded.

“Come along. A nice hot shower, and then we’ll go to greet our guests,” said Ganesh, who was heading out the door. “Oh, hello!” he hailed as soon as he was out in the hallway.

Charles was not terribly pleased to see it was none other than Nephthys, the Egyptian goddess of death, and Raziel and Wotan’s nanny.

“I’m, like, so sorry to bother you and stuff,” she said, yanking an earbud out of her ear.

“Yes, what is it, dear?” asked Ganesh.

“Oh, you’re like all angel-out,” she told Charles, regarding the wings.

“Yes, I am angel-ed out. Totally. And stuff,” grumbled Charles, to a warning look from Ganesh.

“Um. Have you guys seen Anna?” asked Nephthys

Ganesh looked questioningly at Charles, who shook his head. “I have not seen her since we visited Valhalla,” said Ganesh. Charles thought back. Was it yesterday? It seemed a million years ago now.

“Yeah, I, like, thought she came back. But she hasn’t been answering my texts?”

“I do not know, I am afraid,” said Ganesh. “If you would like, you could await her here?”

“Yeah, that would be great. If you don't, like, mind?” she asked Charles.

“Yeah, I don't mind. As long as Raziel doesn't need you?” he replied.

“Oh, they won't need me for a while!” said Nephthys. “Thanks!”

“What did she mean by that?” Charles asked Ganesh as Nephthys slouched back down the hall.

“I do not know. Although this is worrisome. Come along now?”

“Will you do wings?” Charles asked quietly.

“Yes, that sounds like a rather nice idea.”



“Wow, look at the crowd,” called Raziel, who was now standing in the courtyard along with her small twins and a couple of ridiculously oversized wolves.

Charles, who was well used to chaos, could not believe the present state of chaos at his front door. He hadn't seen so many gods gathered together since his own overblown wedding ceremony.

“Hey, does this remind you of your wedding reception?” asked Raziel. “There's even pie!”

“Boon was there,” said Charles quietly. Raziel grabbed his elbow, and for once, he didn't squirm away.

Charles shrugged, shaking out his still damp wings. “Uh, what’s with your kids? Couldn’t you get a sitter?”

“I gave Nephthys the weekend off. She's worried about Anna. But as for the twins, they’re coming, Sariel.”

“WHAT? Are you nuts?” Charles suddenly became aware of eyes upon him. He looked down. Abby and Liam were now standing in front of him. Two sets of ice-blue eyes boring into his soul.

“They’re gonna come with me to get their cousin,” said Raziel.

“Raziel,” said Charles, who already suspected he was outvoted. “Ganesh?” he asked, turning to his partner for some rationality.

Ganesh knelt down in front of the twins. “I expect you two know this is terribly serious and very dangerous? That there should be no mischief, and you should listen to your mommy at all times?

There were two very solemn nods.

“Yeah, their father already had a talk,” said Raziel.

“They’re going along?” Charles asked.

“I do not really believe there is any way we could prevent it,” said Ganesh. “I think our three will ever stick together.”

“Well, tell me if there’s any way you can prevent that kid from tagging along!” Raziel to Charles, indicating Thor, who had just ambled up along with a rather sleepy looking Toki Wartooth.

“Hail, one and all!” announced Thor as Toki yawned.

“No way is he staying back, I need a laugh,” said Charles.

“Hey, T’or dood!” said Pickles. Dethklok, despite the early hour, had wandered outside to see the show.

“Thor! Will you see that Toki has a couple hours sleep before we take off?” said Raziel. “We kept him up kinda late last night with the scrapbook pictures,” she told Charles.

“I will do it, Mother!” yelled Thor.

“And don’t fucking call me Mother,” grumbled Raziel.

“One big happy family?” asked Charles.

“I ams not calls you Mother,” Skwisgaar assured Raziel.

“And I thank you for that,” said Raziel. “Hey, is that new?” she asked, pointing to Skwisgaar's guitar. The Swede sneered his sneeriest sneer and began playing a run.

Raziel nodded and listened skeptically to Skwisgaar. “Not bad,” she said. “And where did you get that?”

“Pffft. Thems ams made it for me,” he mumbled, halfway inclining his head towards Charles and Ganesh.

“Did you say thank you?” asked Raziel.

“Uh, he didn't need-” started Charles.

“Ja. Tack,” muttered Skwisgaar before wandering off.

“Mention not,” laughed Ganesh at his retreating back.

“I'll be damned,” said Charles. “How did you do that?” he asked Raziel.

“I'm a mom now. I'm a pro,” said Raziel. “FATHER!” she shouted, as she and her children ran to greet Phanuel. The Grey angel had just walked up along with Lady Hypnos. Raziel went up on tiptoe to air kiss each one.

“Well, look at you, my dears,” Phanuel said to Abby and Liam. He picked up Abby. “Growing bigger every day.” He came up to Charles and Ganesh.

“Phanuel,” said Charles.

“Phanuel Uncle,” said Ganesh.

“I am so sorry,” Phanuel told them. “I feel this was. My fault. My failure. At attending to the guard. At the Abyss-”

“No,” said Charles. “Like Ganesh was saying, we can't point fingers. We have to concentrate on getting him back.”

“Sariel knows he is … alive,” choked Ganesh.

“Is this true?” asked Phanuel.

Charles nodded. “I can hear him.”

Phanuel blinked in surprise. “My sense of hearing was never so acute. Even when I. Was quite young,” he said, setting down Abby. “Regardless. You are welcome. To my every. Assistance.”

“Our every assistance,” said Hypnos quietly, gently fluttering her delicate purple wings and coming to take Phanuel's hand.

“Oh. I do apologize,” said Phanuel. “I wish this were. A more happy occasion. For the announcement.”

“WHAT announcement?” asked Raziel, who seemed suddenly attentive.

“The lady,” said Phanuel, kissing her hand, “has agreed to be my wife.”

Charles and Ganesh grinned at each other, and then reached over to pull Raziel off of Phanuel, as she had screamed and tackled the Seraph.

“Lady Raziel, it might not be the best course to fatally injure your father prior to the ceremony,” said Ganesh.

“I had hoped. You would be pleased,” gasped Phanuel.

“I start planning as soon as we get back with Boonie!” announced Raziel.

“I thought just a quiet dinner?” pleaded Phanuel, as Ganesh and Charles helped him up.

“No fucking way,” said Charles, who was actually rather pleased for some good news.

“Oh my word, look who is here!” said Ganesh, who ran up to greet another visitor, a tall redheaded woman he literally picked up and spun around.

“Breagan,” said Charles, extending a hand. Breagan ignored the awkward hand and pulled Charles into an embrace.

“I came as soon as I heard, darlin',” said the goddess. “Thought you might use a hand.”

“You have no idea!” said Ganesh, who slipped a hand into Breagan's arm and marched her off for some kind of debriefing. Charles watched for a moment, then made to follow, but found himself restrained by a well-manicured little hand.

“Let him go,” said Raziel. “Probably needs to get some stuff off that waxed chest of his.”

“But, why does he need to tell her?” asked Charles, voice dripping with suspicion. “Is it some kind of secret?”

”Hee, yeah, we never keep secrets.” said Raziel in High Angelic.

”That's not what I meant!” said Charles. ”Not like our secrets!”

”They are not. Terribly secret. If others. Can overhear,” Phanuel reminded them. “Shall we get these two. Small terrors. A slice. Of pie?” he asked, smiling at his grandchildren.

“Thanks, Father,” said Raziel.

“Did you and Wotan come up with any ideas about the descent into the Abyss?” Charles asked Raziel.

She frowned and shook her head. “We have plenty of ideas. Just not good ones.”

“CHARLES DOOD!” shouted Pickles.

“Oh, most righteous angel....”

“Our Seraphic friend....”

“We are most pleased....”

“To say g'day....”

“Da Koori doods wanna help!” explained Pickles, standing in the midst of the Australian deities.

“Oh, well, uh, thanks for that, guys,” said Charles, who was never quite certain which of the babbling surfers he was supposed to be addressing. Pickles had explained (once, when they were very high on something) that the Koori were of one shared consciousness. Or something like that. Maybe Pickles had said they all shared condom packs? Charles shook off the musing. “Uh, how did they want to-”

“Da descent into da Abyss dood!” explained Pickles, flicking ashes into a used cup.

“We had heard the most heinous tale....”

“Of the righteous babe, Durga....”

“Who likes other chicks....”

“Which we think is most auspicious....”

“But you know of us, most excellent Sariel....”

“If the Koori brothers were reduced to but one....”

“That would be as if we all remained.”

Charles thought for a moment, trying to catch up to the whirl of conversation.

“So, you're OK with them wiping you dudes out to the last man?” asked Raziel more or less the instant Charles came to the same conclusion.

“You are most wicked correct....”

“Most bodacious babe, Raziel.”

“No!” said Charles. “No! Look, not that we don't appreciate it – I do! We do! But we'll think of another way!”

“Another way of what, darlin'?” asked Breagan, who had just moved back within hearing distance along with Ganesh.

“Whoa, a most, most un-heinous redhead!” gabbled the Koori.

“This is indeed a day of auspiciousness!”

“Breagan,” said Ganesh, “these are our good friends, the Koori, who oversee the Australian Dreamtime!”

“A right honor!” grinned Breagan as several Koori bowed and one by kissed her hand.

“We were just talking about the descent,” said Charles.

“Yes, Breagan, amongst our other woes, according to my Auntie Durga's telling of the tale, the descent proved fatal to her entire force.”

“You're really vulnerable, up there on the hillside, with your flank exposed,” said Raziel.

“Charles, darlin', did I teach you nothing?” smiled Breagan.

“The game!” said Charles, slapping his head. “Why didn't I think of it? Do you think it would help?”

“Couldn't hurt!” said Breagan.

“That's brilliant!” said Charles. Suddenly overcome, he pulled Breagan down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Whoa, dude, PDA!” said the Koori.

Raziel!” said Charles, turning to the little angel.

“Yeah?”

“I'm calling Edgar. We want our best gamers assembled....” he started, striding off with her, wings flapping in excitement.

Breagan stood, rubbing her cheek, and blushing bright red. “Well,” she said. “That's a first.”

Ganesh smiled and gave her a peck on the other cheek.



“I thuggetht we follow the pathway in that directhion!” said Murderface crisply (or as crispy as it is possible to manage with a Sylvester the Cat type of lisp). Without waiting for agreement, he headed off, although his walking gait seemed a bit odd, like a character in a computer animation.

Which this was, to tell the truth.

“Awesome! Metal!” said Nathan, skipping after Murderface in a most un-metal fashion.

“Pffft,” said Skwisgaar.

“Dood, dat's yer Swisger?” asked Pickles.

“Yeah, uh, what's wrong with it?” said Skwigaar.

“He don't do dat pffft t'ing all da time like dat.”

“He does it pretty often!” grumbled Skwisgaar, fingering his guitar.

“Wul, mebbe he duz it a lawt around yoo,” laughed Pickles.

Skwisgaar’s CGI sneer increased exponentially. “Look, I'm used to playing you!”

“Yoo play me? Oh, den who plays Swisger?”

“Ganesh usually.”

“Oh, now, he'd be gud,” grinned Pickles.

Ignoring the insult, Charles ticked off, “Raziel is always Nathan, even when Nathan plays, and they won't let me play me.”

“Dudes!” cried Nathan, who had just skipped back. “You're not being brutal! Come the fuck on!”

“I t'ought dere's no yoo in dis game anyway?” said Pickles as they followed after the others.

“We usually just do an RP. Text based. Edgar has a group. I don't think anyone knows we're actually playing some of the characters.”

“Den who plays da Charles, if yoo don't?”

“They have a girl, but she went on maternity leave. So lately, they've had Boon....”

“Wut!” laughed Pickles. “Hey, though, yeh, I guess he's a liddle yoo....”

“I always think he's more a small Ganesh.”

“Naw, dood, he's totally a t'ree foot Charles.”

“Hey, Skwisgaar, you need to get in character!” came Nathan's awfully high voice.

“Pffft,” grumbled Skwisgaar.

“He doesn’t say it THAT MUCH!” scolded Nathan.

“Hey, where the fuck are we?” said Skwisgaar. They had arrived at a place in the game that appeared to be all bright pastel colors. Everything seemed to have a cute, rounded, vaguely anime-esque design to it. Even the background music had changed to a bright, syrupy tune that seemed rather….

“Hey! This place is totally un-metal!” opined Nathan, who really seemed rather cheerful about the whole thing. “I wish I’d brought the kids.”

“Nathan doesn’t have kids,” sighed Skwisgaar. “Ed- I mean, Murderface, are you sure this is the right way?”

“Of courthe I am thertain thith ith the right path,” insisted Murderface.

“Doesn’t seem very Dethklok,” grumbled Skwisgaar.

“Heh. I’d be willin’ t’ bet Toki’s behind dis,” said Pickles.

“Oh, shit, you’re right!” said Skwisgaar. “I mean, ja. Pfft, I wish we’d brought him along.”

“He plays a good Skwisgaar,” snarked Nathan.

“But how are we even gonna tell when to expect a boss with all this pfft-y music?” asked Skwisgaar.

“Is 'pffft-y' even a word, Skwisgaar?” asked Nathan. “Because it sounds lame and un-metal!”

“Hey, doods, wut’s all dat?” asked Pickles, looking out at the valley below. There were a number of stone effigies. It looked like the world’s cutest Easter Island.

“Link, those are the Faces of Evil!”

The gamers turned around at the unfamiliar voice. It was a strange bearded guy riding, or all things, a magic carpet. The oddest thing about him was that, in this well-rendered 3D environment, he looked like he was the product of cell animation, and very cheaply done at that.

“Who are you?” demanded Murderface.

“And who the fuck is Link?” asked Skwisgaar.

“You must defeat them in order receive the Water of Life!” said the flying carpet dude.

“Wait, Gandalf! Why would we want the water of life?” asked Skwisgaar. But the flying dude had already zipped off, leaving only dustballs in his wake.

“Come on, dudes!” said Nathan, pulling out a really big sword. “Let’s get rockin’! Dibs on the big tiki head guy!” he said, taking off down the hill in the direction of a cute cartoon totem pole.

“What’s the Water of Life, anyway?” asked Skwisgaar, as Pickles went to Octo-Power and whirled away.

“I’ll thow you the Water of Life,” laughed Murderface, who started to unhook his belt.

“Uh, I gotta go that way!” said Skwisgaar, pointing his guitar down the hill. “Pfft and stuff.” He spotted a stone effigy that looked to him not unlike Facebones (if Facebones were rather cute and unthreatening that is) and started to head down towards it. Anything, he thought, beat witnessing Murderface’s power-up. Especially if Edgar had just finished another burrito.

He soon came face to face with adorable pastel Facebones. Shuddering slightly at the glaring absence of brutality in this region of the game (seriously, he needed to complain to Breagan, Dethklok had an image to maintain) he took out his guitar and prepared to power up. He stretched his fingers, and began to thrash.

And was immediately put off by the horrible sound: his crunching riff sounded more like Pop Goes the Weasel on helium. Cute Facebones rolled his eyeballs and started laughing, which at least sounded slightly evil. Undeterred, Skwisgaar redoubled his efforts on his Gibson, which only seemed to make the weasel pop even faster. Facebones’ eyes rolled up in his head, and then he began blowing chunks, which was actually kind of cool, if gross. Skwisgaar kept shredding until Facebones began to vibrate, and then, with a sickening crunch, his skull broke wide open and began to leak brain matter.

“Sorry, that hurt me as much as it hurt you,” Skwiagaar sighed, adding a final, “Pffft.” But just then, something – or someone – flashed in the corner of his vision. He whirled, but it was gone. Small. It could have been one of the small cute animals that were hopping around. But.

He didn't say the name, only mouthed it.

“Did you get your boss?” asked Nathan, who had just bounced up.

Skwisgaar shook his head. “Nathan walks, he rarely skips, and, yeah, I mean, ja,” said Skwisgaar. “By the way, did you see somebody?”

“Another player?” asked Nathan.

“Yeah, but small? Like a kid?”

“Don't think so,” said Nathan.

“I wath thuccethful ath well!” announced Murderface, who arrived zipping up his jeans.

“OK, and that’s enough about that,” said Skwisgaar.

“Where did Pickles go?” asked Nathan.

“D-d-d-d-dooooods!” came the answer to their question. “I can’t t-t-t-t-urn it awf!”

“Come on!” sang Nathan, as Skwisgaar and Murderface scrambled after him to the direction of the scream.

They came to an ornate fountain that was pouring out water. It took Skwisgaar a moment to realize that the octopus on top of the fountain was actually Pickles in his octo-power-up mode: a red octopus that was, at present, spurting water from every tentacle, like a crazy cephalopodic shower head.

“What the hell happened?” asked Skwisgaar.

“D-d-d-da f-f-f-f-f-airy d-d-d-doods!” sputtered Pickles.

“Wait,” said Nathan, who jumped into the fountain and then pulled what seemed to be a lever behind Pickles’s head.

“Oh. T’anks dood. Dat’s better.”

“Took him off massage mode,” laughed Nathan.

“What happened?” asked Skwisgaar.

“Da fairy doods sed I’d earned da Water o’ Life! But, I got stuck in dis ahkty mode!”

“Ath it happenth, I have water powerth!” suggested Murderface, once again tugging at his belt.

“Oh, Edgar, I don’t wanna see that,” sighed Skwisgaar, shielding his eyes.

“Euch, dood, don’ pee in mah fountain!” shuddered Pickles.

“Hey, it’s just like that statue in Brussels!” said Nathan.

But suddenly, the fountain started to glow a pretty disgusting piss-yellow. “Ah, no, dood,” sighed the Octapickles. But then he screamed, “Whoa dood,” and there was a splash, as he suddenly turned back to his Pickles form and plummeted into the fountain.

“Oh, gahd, ewww!” he said, coming up and spitting water.

“Wait, now the water's going crazy!” said Nathan. It was true: like a fire hydrant that had just been hit by a truck, water was now geysering out of the top of the fountain, to the point that water was running over the edge and beginning to flood the valley.

“Is there an off switch?” asked Nathan.

“Doods! Run!” said Pickles, splashing out of the fountain. The players obeyed, Nathan grabbing on to Murderface and basically dragging him along. But they were soon ankle deep, then shin deep, and then waist deep in the rushing water.

“I don't t'ink my avuhter dood c'n swim!” sputtered Pickles.

“But I thought you're an octopus!” scolded Skwisgaar.

Pickles didn't reply, as he went down for the second time.

“Dammit!” said Skwisgaar. “Raziel!”

“I'm Nathan!” he said, struggling to swim while dragging Murderface.

“Whatever. Can you True Form?”

“Why would Nathan be able to True Form?”

“Can you try?”

Suddenly, both Nathan and Skwisgaar had sprouted wings: Nathan's dark and wide and Skwisgaar's shining and silver. Nathan still grasping Murderface by the belt, struggled aloft, and Skwisgaar, stopping to scoop up a dripping Pickles, followed her up.

They looked down, scanning for dry land, but the game field was now completely filled with a rushing ocean.

“Let's get outta the game,” said Skwisgaar. “This is totally pfft.”

“Wait!” said Nathan. “Listen!”

It was a low, rumbling sound below them. They looked down below, to the water, where a group of whales had now broken the surface. There were three of them, utterly huge, and they appeared to be lowing at each other.

“Whales? What the fuck?” asked Skwisgaar.

The biggest whale keened, and then, flapping its magnificent tail, breached, coming back down with a mighty splash.

“WATCH OUT!” shouted Nathan.



Charles collapsed onto the floor, wings sodden. He looked across the control room. Edgar, Raziel, and Pickles were all soaked to the skin as well, water pooling on the floor beneath them.

“What happened?” asked Breagan, ripping off her headset.

“Didn't you program this?” asked Charles.

“I didn't program this, darlin',” she said, pulling at Charles's soaked wing in puzzlement.



“Whales, did you say?” Ganesh asked, leaning back on the couch in their suite and plonking an olive into his martini.

“Yeah, all that for some gods damned save the whales bullshit,” said Charles, reaching over and stealing the olive. He went back to toweling his hair dry. “I think the program is buggy or something.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder if- Wait, what is that?” It did not take angel ears to detect the ruckus in Mordhaus’s gardens. It sounded like a herd of elephants.

“What now?” asked Charles.

Ganesh had grabbed his cocktail and wandered out to the balcony. “Oh, my!”

“Here,” said Charles, who was still True Formed. Before Ganesh could raise any objection, Charles grabbed him and flew him down to confront the new visitors: three of the largest elephants anybody had ever seen.

“We have heard you wish to journey to the Abyss,” said a very familiar female voice.

“Azalea!” Ganesh told the elephant. “Mortimer! Basil! You have returned to your elephant forms?”

“Yes, they will serve us for this adventure,” Azalea the Old One told Ganesh.

“Hrmf,” scolded Mortimer the Elephant. “I warned you to stay away from the Abyss.”

“You most certainly did not!” protested Ganesh.

“Mortimer!” warned Basil. And then to Ganesh he said, “We are here to offer our assistance.”

“What kind of assistance?” asked Charles.

“Why, we will convey your party down to the floor of the Abyss by elephant back!” said Basil, the largest of the three old ones. “It is really the proper only way.”

Ganesh looked at Charles in wonder. “That would be…. We would really appreciate it!”

“Don’t think thjs is proper at all, actually, us meddling in their affairs,” muttered Mortimer.

“Mortimer!” thundered Azalea. “The villains have absconded with a child! A child! We will not stand by! I shall not stand by! If you are too cowardly to offer assistance, then you may crawl off in shame!”

“Now, Azalea,” soothed Basil.

“I will go,” backtracked Mortimer. “Of course. Only right thing to do.”

“Azalea,” said Ganesh, touching her trunk. She turned her sweet elephant eyes upon him. He wrapped his arms around her trunk and hugged with all his might.

“There, there, dear,” said Azalea.

“Hey, kids, elephants!” said Raziel, who had also just reached the courtyard. A crowd was gathering. She wandered over and elbowed Charles as the twins flew over to greet the mighty elephants.

“The Old Ones,” he said.

“So, we’re going?” she asked, putting her sunglasses atop her heard.

Charles seemed to awaken from his stupor. “Yes, we’re going,” he said, rattling his wings with determination. “We're going.”

“Excellent.”

“Raziel,” said Charles, frowning. “You know. It's still gonna be fucking dangerous. Even with the Old Ones.”

Raziel grinned. “Hells yeah it's gonna be dangerous. For the fuckers who kidnapped my Boonie,” she vowed, narrowing her eyes and donning her oversized sunglasses.

“Deaths?” asked Charles.

“Messy deaths.”

And they smiled, two avenging angels.