You Got the Silver (Mythklok, Chapter 37)
Mar. 15th, 2011 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: You Got the Silver (Mythklok, Chapter 37)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Will a Dethklok concert spell the end of the universe?
Warnings: Slash, AU, including an AU to the AU, OCs, tons of smoking, EXTRA SUPER BAD SWEARING, excessive cuteness (at the end) – this one just got totally out of control folks
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
capslokdethklok
OK, here's your Mythklok. Featuring 30% MORE CHEESE SNACKS. YUM! This is the fourth bitlet in what I decided to call the Santeria Arc. I think there will be five bitlets total, but then again, maybe not.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU in which Charles is Sariel, an angel who fell to earth and subsequently got adopted by a death metal band. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
So, recently, Charles got to learn more about his truly weird origins. Unfortunately, he's trapped in an alternate universe that's about to explode. Since in this AU Dethklok never formed (due to this universe's Charles having been killed at birth) he's been trying to get the band together. He has a plan! A crazy, stupid plan, but aren't those the best kind?
You Got the Silver
In another universe....
Charles was trying and failing to recall the last time he had seen quite so many limousines.
They had all come for Dick Knubbler Presents a Dr. John's Celebrity Rehab Mystery Concert Featuring The Knubblerettes and Other Special Guests.
Evidently, one thing shared by this universe and our own was the pervasiveness of supernaturals having jobs, from the lowest to highest levels. within the entertainment industry. At any rate, when Dick Knubbler had chosen a "mystery concert" venue located so far out of town it was actually situated in a different galaxy, he seemed to have absolutely no trouble rounding up drivers for whom this was evidently no more than an occasion for a bit of overtime pay.
The venue reminded him of a soccer stadium. Football stadium, he corrected himself, remembering that this Ganesh was probably another Anglophile.
Charles found Ganesh holed up in a temporary office, jabbering into a cell phone.
"This is impressive," Charles told him during a momentary lull.
"One wouldn't have thought I had a knack for concert promotion. Perhaps my Uncle Wotan is wrong," Ganesh grinned.
"What do you mean?"
"We have been a bit ... estranged of late. He is of the opinion that I am frittering away my life. I say, what is life, if not to be frittered away?"
Charles frowned. He didn't really know this particular Ganesh, but he could say he had a certain amount of experience with the type. This one, like his, seemed to have a talent for not ever quite saying exactly what he thought. "If you're so fucking shallow, why were you looking for me?"
"Oh, er, well, I do tend to get bored...."
"You went to medical school because you were bored?"
The lovely eyes narrowed just the barest fraction. You could have missed it. If you didn't know to look for it. "You are ... a most complex entity," was what this Ganesh finally said, unshod foot drawn up on his chair as he coiled up one leg.
"You are changing the damn subject. Which is all right, it's really none of my fucking business anyway," said Charles. He found himself wondering for not the first time why there seemed so little romantic spark between the two of them. Not that he didn't wonder, on a sometimes hourly basis, what the fuck it was his Ganesh thought he saw in him. Under similar circumstances, on earth, the two of them would have jammed the door shut several minutes past in order to perform unspeakable acts upon each other.
Ganesh appeared to be sizing him up. "You and your Ganesh...?"
"It's never boring," Charles told him. He actually found himself smiling slightly. "Anyway, I presume you're monitoring the discontinuity with the same degree of vigilance."
"Of course! At the first sign of instability, we will whisk our guests off to Dick Knubbler Presents a Dr. John's Celebrity Rehab Mystery Concert After Party and invitational Charity Miniature Golf Tournament."
"Ah. Golf. Sorry I didn't bring my clubs."
"A splendid time is guaranteed for all!"
"Hmm. Well, I best go see to my boys,"
"Yes, to which set do you refer?"
"I have two now, huh? Gods. It's like twins. Only infinite. You're keeping them all separate?"
"As instructed."
"Then the Dethklok ones."
"Oh, actually, Pickles was just inquiring about your recent ancestry!" It was Ganesh's time to grin.
Charles scowled. Ganesh's phone had started ringing again, to the opening notes of "Titty Fish." He rose to go.
"One thing," Ganesh told him, hand over the receiver.
"Yeah?"
"No offense. But, I, er, I don't believe I was looking for you after all. Or, not exactly you."
Charles nodded.
He was actually pretty fucking offended.
He stepped out of Ganesh's office to see the five musicians waiting in the hallway.
"Charles, dood-" Pickles began. Charles was actually, and quite uncharacteristically, about to put a friendly hand on Pickles' shoulder when he saw the glower.
"Yoo got us second billed to da Knubber-feckin-ettes!" Pickles' voice actually rose half a register.
And then Charles found himself surrounded. Were his boys this tall? Wait, these were his boys. Oh, shit.
"We don't play schecond billed to nobody!" Murderface growled.
"That's, uh, a double negative. You are aware of that?" Charles tried.
"What?"
"Well, if you don't play second billed to nobody, you must play second billed to somebody, right?"
"Whoa!" said Pickles.
"So, uh, therefore, that somebody is the Knubblerettes. Uh, QED," Charles concluded.
"DAMN! HE'S GOT US!" Nathan wailed. "Defeated by a resort to SYLLOGISM!"
"I am not schuscheptible to your logical conschtructsch, Ofdenschen," Murderface grumbled.
"And why ams we nots bills as us?" Skwisgaar grumbled.
"Look, I told you that, you guys already exist in this universe. It would cause problems."
"We ams not exists here?" Toki asked, suddenly worried.
"Then if we're not us WHO THE FUCK ARE WE?" Nathan demanded.
"Uh, you're, ah, Pink Floyd?" Charles proposed.
"The Floyd isch not scho bad," Murderface allowed.
"Which ams lineup, dudes?" Skwisgaar asked suspiciously.
"Uh, the brief but turbulent period when David Gilmour and Syd Barrett were both involved?" Charles told him.
Skwisgaar's lip curled, but he nodded. "Ams brutal. Ams works for me."
Charles sighed with relief.
"So, dude," Natthan asked, "how much is the Floyd gonna be MAKING on this concert?"
"Oh, uh, well, it's for charity...."
"But what about schweet do-re-mi! You schaid that Ganesch is loaded in thisch reality," Murderface growled.
"Uh, it'll be a great tax deduction?"
"Oh, ja?" Skwisgaar asked suspiciously. "Ands, what ams forms schedules does you use to declares charitable desucktions ins da alternates universe?"
Charles felt five pairs of eyes boring into him.
"Why, you Dethklok fellows! Just who I had been seeking!" Ganesh happily told them.
"What?" Nathan grunted.
"Dood. We want words wit' yoo!" Pickles grumbled.
"Ja, you ams pretty hots, but we ams nots wants any mores of your bullshits!" Skwisgaar warned.
"But, your cheese snacks have arrived!" Ganesh waved an arm, and suddenly was surrounded by waiters carrying silver trays. On his signal, exquisite silver lids were lifted, revealing serving trays heavily laden with infinite varieties if delicious dairy delicacies.
"Dooooooooood," said Pickles, to much assent.
Back in our universe....
They blotted out the sky over Mordhaus.
Seraphim. It appeared as if Seth had gathered every troop from the southern continent and brought them along for the last stand.
He stood now in the gardens outside the front gate, flanked by several of the monsters at full wing.
Various beings were stationed guarding the castle: angels (though none appeared to be Seraphic), sword-bearing gods of the Eastern Kingdom, the mounted spirits of warriors from Asgard.
Queen Raziel emerged from the front door, striding out, flanked by the Elder Gods Bast and Nephthys.
She marched towards Seth.
When she got within twenty yards, Seth began to ramble. "What I wanna know is where my fucking brother is hiding, because I'm gonna.... Whoa!"
Although Bast and Nephthys had halted a few paces from Seth, Raziel had continued walking until she stood, on tiptoe, scowling up at him, with barely a handbreadth between them.
"What I am going to do, and please pay attention, Seth, because I am not gonna repeat this, I am gonna cut off your toes, and then I am gonna cut off your fingers..."
Lady Bast flourished her sword. Seth took a step back, but Raziel closed the distance.
"And then I am gonna cut off your feet. And then your hands. Legs. Arms. Balls. We brought a sack for them"
Nephthys held up a Ziploc baggie.
"And then I am gonna have your head for my box." She held up a wooden crate.
"Look you crazy bitch," Seth ranted, "you fucking cut me, you lay a fucking finger of that tiny fucking dwarf hand on me, my men have fucking orders to destroy this fucking place and then stomp the fucking crumbs."
Raziel drew back. She wiped her nose with her hand, to Seth's utter confusion, rubbed her fingers together in front of him. She then expertly flicked the tiny snot ball towards the Seraph at Seth's right shoulder.
The Seraph screamed. And toppled to the ground.
Seth cringed.
"That would be one thing," Raziel said, leaning forward again, nearly bumping him with her pregnant belly. "If you were brave. Or you were heroic." She held up a hand. "Nephthys!" she ordered.
The Egyptian goddess made a sweeping gesture. Underneath where Seth and his angelic troops were standing, every single living thing in the garden suddenly shriveled and died: every leaf. Every flower. Every blade of grass. Seth and the angels looked around, nervous now.
Raziel glared at Seth. "You are not brave. You are not heroic. Tarry here, and death will find you. My kind of death. And, you will not like it." She grinned.
"I will fucking fuck you if it takes the rest of my days you fucking cunt bag."
Seth gave a signal, and with one last glare at Raziel, he and the angels departed.
An uncharacteristically cheerful Nephthys held up the Ziploc baggie and shook it as they flew off.
"Serves you right, messing with a poor pregnant lady!" Raziel fumed, patting her belly.
In another universe....
Having received their delicious cheese snacks, Dethklok was in full thrash, thundering forth from Dick Knubbler's improvised stage.
Far above the field where the punters stood listening, up in the VIP box at the top of the stands (with their own trays of cheese snacks) Death Frog had been stunned into silence.
Charles had to grin. This was probably the stupidest fucking idea he had ever had, but it was nice to know he still had It.
Whatever the fuck It was.
Dethklok had decided to perform a new number. His Nathan had told him it was something based on The Book. Charles stood, listening intently. He found it strangely compelling.
"Dude!" the man he now thought if as Death Frog Nathan suddenly broke his reverie.
"Me and Skwisgaar have been thinking," Nathan explained. "There's one thing we don't have quite right."
"And what would that be, Nathan?"
"The NAME! Death Frog."
"Oh, so what have you guys come up with?"
Nathan and Skwisgaar exchanged a sly glance.
"SMASH FROG!" thundered Nathan.
"Well, uh, if at is what you'd prefer."
"He doesn't like it!" Nathan wailed.
"No, Nathan, it's fine...."
"Pffft! I ams tells you, Da Rainbows Frogs Ams Evil ams da better names."
"That's not a name for a band."
"Are you scharing your alternate name ideasch? Because, I would like to proposch at thisch time. The William Murderfasche and Friendsch Exschperiensche."
"Dood! Why shud it be yer band name?" Pickles complained
"I am obviouschly the biggest schelebrity!"
"Den why don't we ams calls da bands Titty Fishes," snickered Skwisgaar, to a murderous glance from Murderface.
"CRUNCHY FROG!" Nathan declared.
"Oh. I think Ganesh would like that one," Charles acknowledged. His eyes drifted down to the field far below. "Oh, shit, just a minute you guys. Go ahead and keep brainstorming...."
He tore out pf the VIP box and raced down the stands, ignoring some burly security personnel to hop the railing that separated the cheap seats from the field.
It was Jacque, accompanied by Elegba. Charles had no idea how his father had found them
"What the fuck are you fucking doing here?" Jacque was demanding of Raziel.
"I'm trying to watch the fucking concert!" Raziel told him.
“You fucking ruined my fucking palace,” Jacque told her.
"You fucking shot at us!"
"You fucking stole my fucking son!"
"You fucking kidnapped your fucking son!"
“Will you two fucking quit it?” Charles snapped, pulling up, breathless. between them.
“Are all of you QUITE incapable of speaking the Queen’s English?” Ganesh wailed.
"Oh fuck!" Charles said, suddenly looking up.
"See! This is what I'm talking about...."
"No," Charles explained, pointing to the sky. "What's happening out there?"
"I have been keeping the tear in the universe under careful observation," Ganesh explained, "And I see no-"
"Not the tear! The sun!"
They turned to stare at the fiery entity, which had quite suddenly doubled in size.
"Er. I believe the sun is on the verge of going supernova," Ganesh posited.
"Get the band! Get everybody the fuck out of here!" Charles shouted.
Ganesh called out a prearranged signal into his communicator.
Somewhere, in a VIP box high above, Dick Knubbler shouted, "To the limos, babies! Yeah!"
Our universe, Lord Ganesh's estate....
The bearded man knelt down and carefully traced the symbols in rooster blood on the floor of the damp, darkened, ruined living room. What was done must be done with utmost care. He paused and wiped some sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
And then a killer frog hopped across the floor, in hot pursuit of a bunny rabbit.
Ganesh sat back and sighed. "Gods damn it," he muttered. He was distracted by the opening notes of "Little Wing" sounding from his cellular phone. He wiped his hands on a towel and, carelessly tossing it aside, grabbed the phone.
"Lady Raziel! Yes, I'm close I just... Yes, Uncle Wotan stopped by with the, er, ingredients. Was Seth...? He's already departed? Did you...? With a, er, booger? Really, well, I would have liked to have witnessed that. So, you are not in need of assistance? No, really, no more help here, I just need.... Wait!"
Lord Ganesh looked up. There was a deadly frog atop his head. He grabbed it, and glared at it.
"Tell me," he told the phone, "Does Jean-Pierre have any recipes that perhaps require as ingredients hares and poison toads? Yes, I am perfectly aware of my vegetarian status. I find these days I am requiring additional protein."
The frog croaked accusingly at him.
"Pfffft," he told it.
In another universe....
It wasn't the audience evacuation that had worried him: in the end, the casualty rate from Dick Knubbler Presents a Dr. John's Celebrity Rehab Mystery Concert Featuring The Knubblerettes and Other Special Guests was low compared to a typical Dethklok concert. Aside from a very few cases of trampling, it was mostly complaints of mild radiation burns from amongst those seated too close to the supernova (which it had been absurdly easy to explain away as an especially spectacular laser light show).
No, the prospect that had concerned Charles the most was arresting Dethklok when they were in the middle of an especially brutal number. In the end, Raziel powered up to her Seraphim Form and grabbed the Dethklok boys up like a greedy child clutching at little action figures. Including Pickles, who was not happy about being manhandled.
"It don't matter da yooniverse, you haven feckin' idea how do do da spirit Walk!" he screamed at her as she set him down at the rendezvous point on the desert planet, Tatooine, a safe distance from the exploding solar system.
"I like my Pickles better," she grinned, reverting to her Court Form. "This one is too fussy."
"That ams actually pretty cool laser lights show, dudes," Dethklok Skwisgaar commented, watching the sun melt down.
"Did it work?" Charles asked Ganesh, who was squinting through a rather eccentric looking telescope. It was covered with gears and odd dials.
"I don't understand," the god comment. "That kind of celestial phenomenon usually takes millions of years! Added to the fact that that sun was not even in a class nor age likely to go through an ignition of that magnitude."
"That's my band."
"I am frankly speechless."
"And the tear?"
"i believe the explosion successfully sealed off the universe. There is no trace of the discontinuity," Ganesh marveled.
Charles held his breath.
"You mean it worked?"
"Apparently."
"Damn. I'm good," Charles whispered.
The pleasant feeling faded almost immediately, however. He looked over to where Raziel had deposited his Dethklok. Too fucking close by. Given that the universe was now no longer in imminent danger from the discontinuity, he was now concerned about a violation of reality should Dethklok meet anti-Dethklok.
"Who are thosche douschebagsch?" Dethklok Murderface was grumbling, looking over to the assorted members of Death Frog. "They're schome ugly motherfuckersch."
"Murderface, they are obviously our doubles in this universe!" Nathan explained. "We should go and thank them for getting killed or horribly disfigured for us!"
"Actually, they're not...." Charles started, just arriving on the scene.
"Dat guys ams handsome devils," grinned Skwisgaar, eagerly sizing up his opposite.
"Dood! I need to talk to dat guy!" Pickles pleaded. "He might have some spiritual guidance! Da mysteries of da universe! Or, really awesome weed!"
"Look," Charles tried, "you guys need to go with Raziel NOW and...."
"WHY WON'T YOU LET US TALK TO THE ME'S?" Nathan bawled, to the assent of nearly everybody.
"I've told you, if you guys meet yourselves, it could destroy the universe!"
"We heard there wasch MINI GOLF," Murderface bitched.
"Yeah, but....!" Charles told him. "If you meet yourself, uh..... You could get trapped in this universe! And.... There are NO COCKTAIL SAUSAGES HERE!"
"Oh, god no!" said Nathan. He gripped Charles by the shoulders. "IT'S A NIGHTMARE UNIVERSE! A NIGHTMARE!"
Raziel looked confused, but Charles managed to give her a signal, so she once again True Formed and grabbed Dethklok, including a still heavily bitching Pickles, and whisked them back to Ganesh's estate.
"So, you're not real?"
Charles turned. It was Death Frog's Toki. Charles silently cursed this universe's Dick Knubbler for not gathering them up and taking them home right away.
"I'm real," he told this Toki. "I'm just not human."
"Are you an angel? Like her?"
Oh boy. Fucked up abusive religious upbringing. Mixed with possible parricide in this universe. No matter what potential reality, Toki always seemed to get it up the ass. Charles' thoughts drifted to another reality. Where he would show up 20 years earlier at Rev. Aslaug's doorstep. With a claw hammer.
"I'm sort of an angel. Not like her though." Toki looked skeptical, so he continued, "I got in trouble. Being an angel. So I don't work for those guys any more." Sorry, no angelic forgiveness here. He decided to try a change in topic. "Pickles tells me you're a pretty fucking good guitarist."
Toki's smile was small but genuine. "Thanks."
"Just a fair warning. We'd like you to participate." We need you to participate. "But Skwisgaar, as lead guitarist...."
"I LIKE Skwisgaar!" Toki enthused.
It was so genuine. It would have broken his heart, he thought, if he'd had one to break. "Just.... Don't let him give you too much shit. OK?"
"TOOOOKIIIIII!" This universe's Nathan. "Pickles says you know an AWESOME STRIP CLUB."
"Yeah. Sure," Toki told them, the whole nascent band now crowding around him, awaiting transport to the Promised Land.
"You ams sure you don't gotta gets back to Lavo?" Skwisgaar laughed.
"Oh, she's uh, inside a carpet today," Nathan explained
"WHATS?"
"It's, you know, an art project where they roll her up inside a carpet, and it, uh, means something and stuff...." But the rest of Nathan's no doubt authoritative explanation was lost as a grinning Knubbler tossed Charles a CD and whisked them off to mini golf and strip bars.
Charles pocketed the CD.
"That was pretty fucking impressive, Charles!"
Charles turned around. "Jacque! I need to fucking talk to you!"
"I am beginning - beginning! - to reassess my fucking objections to you music industry career ambitions."
Charles scowled. "They're not ambitions! I'm fucking successful!"
"I still think you should consider the law! Why fuck around with fucking music when you've got a fucking education!"
"I'm not..... Look, Jacque. The tear is gone. The universe will be OK. All I want is for you to reverse the spell and let me go."
Jacque and Elegba looked at each other.
"Oh what the fuck is it now?" Charles wailed.
"Ain't no reversing that spell, boy," Jacque said quietly.
"What?" Charles thought he must have misheard. He prayed he must have misheard.
"Couldn't risk that I'd lose heart. I'm one sentimental cocksucker, ask anybody. Couldn't risk letting you go. Prematurely. This is my fucking universe, you know." Jacque stood stubbornly staring at the ground.
Charles felt like his heart had been yanked out and given a good stomp. "Then, I'm.... You trapped me here? For good?"
Jacque waved his hand. "Ah. Your pretty boyfriend, or those crazy musician motherfuckers, they'll figure something. I have no doubt. No doubt at all."
"You ... cocksucking motherfucker."
"That I am."
Jacque motioned to Elegba, who handed him something. "I had this made for you, 'cause you're a fucking Ogoun now. Maybe you'll decide to use it on me!" Jacque chuckled and handed him a machete.
It was cast in silver.
Charles stared at the gorgeous silver blade. "I can't accept..." he started.
But Jacque was gone.
And he was all alone.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Will a Dethklok concert spell the end of the universe?
Warnings: Slash, AU, including an AU to the AU, OCs, tons of smoking, EXTRA SUPER BAD SWEARING, excessive cuteness (at the end) – this one just got totally out of control folks
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to
capslokdethklokOK, here's your Mythklok. Featuring 30% MORE CHEESE SNACKS. YUM! This is the fourth bitlet in what I decided to call the Santeria Arc. I think there will be five bitlets total, but then again, maybe not.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU in which Charles is Sariel, an angel who fell to earth and subsequently got adopted by a death metal band. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,
tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.So, recently, Charles got to learn more about his truly weird origins. Unfortunately, he's trapped in an alternate universe that's about to explode. Since in this AU Dethklok never formed (due to this universe's Charles having been killed at birth) he's been trying to get the band together. He has a plan! A crazy, stupid plan, but aren't those the best kind?
You Got the Silver
In another universe....
Charles was trying and failing to recall the last time he had seen quite so many limousines.
They had all come for Dick Knubbler Presents a Dr. John's Celebrity Rehab Mystery Concert Featuring The Knubblerettes and Other Special Guests.
Evidently, one thing shared by this universe and our own was the pervasiveness of supernaturals having jobs, from the lowest to highest levels. within the entertainment industry. At any rate, when Dick Knubbler had chosen a "mystery concert" venue located so far out of town it was actually situated in a different galaxy, he seemed to have absolutely no trouble rounding up drivers for whom this was evidently no more than an occasion for a bit of overtime pay.
The venue reminded him of a soccer stadium. Football stadium, he corrected himself, remembering that this Ganesh was probably another Anglophile.
Charles found Ganesh holed up in a temporary office, jabbering into a cell phone.
"This is impressive," Charles told him during a momentary lull.
"One wouldn't have thought I had a knack for concert promotion. Perhaps my Uncle Wotan is wrong," Ganesh grinned.
"What do you mean?"
"We have been a bit ... estranged of late. He is of the opinion that I am frittering away my life. I say, what is life, if not to be frittered away?"
Charles frowned. He didn't really know this particular Ganesh, but he could say he had a certain amount of experience with the type. This one, like his, seemed to have a talent for not ever quite saying exactly what he thought. "If you're so fucking shallow, why were you looking for me?"
"Oh, er, well, I do tend to get bored...."
"You went to medical school because you were bored?"
The lovely eyes narrowed just the barest fraction. You could have missed it. If you didn't know to look for it. "You are ... a most complex entity," was what this Ganesh finally said, unshod foot drawn up on his chair as he coiled up one leg.
"You are changing the damn subject. Which is all right, it's really none of my fucking business anyway," said Charles. He found himself wondering for not the first time why there seemed so little romantic spark between the two of them. Not that he didn't wonder, on a sometimes hourly basis, what the fuck it was his Ganesh thought he saw in him. Under similar circumstances, on earth, the two of them would have jammed the door shut several minutes past in order to perform unspeakable acts upon each other.
Ganesh appeared to be sizing him up. "You and your Ganesh...?"
"It's never boring," Charles told him. He actually found himself smiling slightly. "Anyway, I presume you're monitoring the discontinuity with the same degree of vigilance."
"Of course! At the first sign of instability, we will whisk our guests off to Dick Knubbler Presents a Dr. John's Celebrity Rehab Mystery Concert After Party and invitational Charity Miniature Golf Tournament."
"Ah. Golf. Sorry I didn't bring my clubs."
"A splendid time is guaranteed for all!"
"Hmm. Well, I best go see to my boys,"
"Yes, to which set do you refer?"
"I have two now, huh? Gods. It's like twins. Only infinite. You're keeping them all separate?"
"As instructed."
"Then the Dethklok ones."
"Oh, actually, Pickles was just inquiring about your recent ancestry!" It was Ganesh's time to grin.
Charles scowled. Ganesh's phone had started ringing again, to the opening notes of "Titty Fish." He rose to go.
"One thing," Ganesh told him, hand over the receiver.
"Yeah?"
"No offense. But, I, er, I don't believe I was looking for you after all. Or, not exactly you."
Charles nodded.
He was actually pretty fucking offended.
He stepped out of Ganesh's office to see the five musicians waiting in the hallway.
"Charles, dood-" Pickles began. Charles was actually, and quite uncharacteristically, about to put a friendly hand on Pickles' shoulder when he saw the glower.
"Yoo got us second billed to da Knubber-feckin-ettes!" Pickles' voice actually rose half a register.
And then Charles found himself surrounded. Were his boys this tall? Wait, these were his boys. Oh, shit.
"We don't play schecond billed to nobody!" Murderface growled.
"That's, uh, a double negative. You are aware of that?" Charles tried.
"What?"
"Well, if you don't play second billed to nobody, you must play second billed to somebody, right?"
"Whoa!" said Pickles.
"So, uh, therefore, that somebody is the Knubblerettes. Uh, QED," Charles concluded.
"DAMN! HE'S GOT US!" Nathan wailed. "Defeated by a resort to SYLLOGISM!"
"I am not schuscheptible to your logical conschtructsch, Ofdenschen," Murderface grumbled.
"And why ams we nots bills as us?" Skwisgaar grumbled.
"Look, I told you that, you guys already exist in this universe. It would cause problems."
"We ams not exists here?" Toki asked, suddenly worried.
"Then if we're not us WHO THE FUCK ARE WE?" Nathan demanded.
"Uh, you're, ah, Pink Floyd?" Charles proposed.
"The Floyd isch not scho bad," Murderface allowed.
"Which ams lineup, dudes?" Skwisgaar asked suspiciously.
"Uh, the brief but turbulent period when David Gilmour and Syd Barrett were both involved?" Charles told him.
Skwisgaar's lip curled, but he nodded. "Ams brutal. Ams works for me."
Charles sighed with relief.
"So, dude," Natthan asked, "how much is the Floyd gonna be MAKING on this concert?"
"Oh, uh, well, it's for charity...."
"But what about schweet do-re-mi! You schaid that Ganesch is loaded in thisch reality," Murderface growled.
"Uh, it'll be a great tax deduction?"
"Oh, ja?" Skwisgaar asked suspiciously. "Ands, what ams forms schedules does you use to declares charitable desucktions ins da alternates universe?"
Charles felt five pairs of eyes boring into him.
"Why, you Dethklok fellows! Just who I had been seeking!" Ganesh happily told them.
"What?" Nathan grunted.
"Dood. We want words wit' yoo!" Pickles grumbled.
"Ja, you ams pretty hots, but we ams nots wants any mores of your bullshits!" Skwisgaar warned.
"But, your cheese snacks have arrived!" Ganesh waved an arm, and suddenly was surrounded by waiters carrying silver trays. On his signal, exquisite silver lids were lifted, revealing serving trays heavily laden with infinite varieties if delicious dairy delicacies.
"Dooooooooood," said Pickles, to much assent.
Back in our universe....
They blotted out the sky over Mordhaus.
Seraphim. It appeared as if Seth had gathered every troop from the southern continent and brought them along for the last stand.
He stood now in the gardens outside the front gate, flanked by several of the monsters at full wing.
Various beings were stationed guarding the castle: angels (though none appeared to be Seraphic), sword-bearing gods of the Eastern Kingdom, the mounted spirits of warriors from Asgard.
Queen Raziel emerged from the front door, striding out, flanked by the Elder Gods Bast and Nephthys.
She marched towards Seth.
When she got within twenty yards, Seth began to ramble. "What I wanna know is where my fucking brother is hiding, because I'm gonna.... Whoa!"
Although Bast and Nephthys had halted a few paces from Seth, Raziel had continued walking until she stood, on tiptoe, scowling up at him, with barely a handbreadth between them.
"What I am going to do, and please pay attention, Seth, because I am not gonna repeat this, I am gonna cut off your toes, and then I am gonna cut off your fingers..."
Lady Bast flourished her sword. Seth took a step back, but Raziel closed the distance.
"And then I am gonna cut off your feet. And then your hands. Legs. Arms. Balls. We brought a sack for them"
Nephthys held up a Ziploc baggie.
"And then I am gonna have your head for my box." She held up a wooden crate.
"Look you crazy bitch," Seth ranted, "you fucking cut me, you lay a fucking finger of that tiny fucking dwarf hand on me, my men have fucking orders to destroy this fucking place and then stomp the fucking crumbs."
Raziel drew back. She wiped her nose with her hand, to Seth's utter confusion, rubbed her fingers together in front of him. She then expertly flicked the tiny snot ball towards the Seraph at Seth's right shoulder.
The Seraph screamed. And toppled to the ground.
Seth cringed.
"That would be one thing," Raziel said, leaning forward again, nearly bumping him with her pregnant belly. "If you were brave. Or you were heroic." She held up a hand. "Nephthys!" she ordered.
The Egyptian goddess made a sweeping gesture. Underneath where Seth and his angelic troops were standing, every single living thing in the garden suddenly shriveled and died: every leaf. Every flower. Every blade of grass. Seth and the angels looked around, nervous now.
Raziel glared at Seth. "You are not brave. You are not heroic. Tarry here, and death will find you. My kind of death. And, you will not like it." She grinned.
"I will fucking fuck you if it takes the rest of my days you fucking cunt bag."
Seth gave a signal, and with one last glare at Raziel, he and the angels departed.
An uncharacteristically cheerful Nephthys held up the Ziploc baggie and shook it as they flew off.
"Serves you right, messing with a poor pregnant lady!" Raziel fumed, patting her belly.
In another universe....
Having received their delicious cheese snacks, Dethklok was in full thrash, thundering forth from Dick Knubbler's improvised stage.
Far above the field where the punters stood listening, up in the VIP box at the top of the stands (with their own trays of cheese snacks) Death Frog had been stunned into silence.
Charles had to grin. This was probably the stupidest fucking idea he had ever had, but it was nice to know he still had It.
Whatever the fuck It was.
Dethklok had decided to perform a new number. His Nathan had told him it was something based on The Book. Charles stood, listening intently. He found it strangely compelling.
"Dude!" the man he now thought if as Death Frog Nathan suddenly broke his reverie.
"Me and Skwisgaar have been thinking," Nathan explained. "There's one thing we don't have quite right."
"And what would that be, Nathan?"
"The NAME! Death Frog."
"Oh, so what have you guys come up with?"
Nathan and Skwisgaar exchanged a sly glance.
"SMASH FROG!" thundered Nathan.
"Well, uh, if at is what you'd prefer."
"He doesn't like it!" Nathan wailed.
"No, Nathan, it's fine...."
"Pffft! I ams tells you, Da Rainbows Frogs Ams Evil ams da better names."
"That's not a name for a band."
"Are you scharing your alternate name ideasch? Because, I would like to proposch at thisch time. The William Murderfasche and Friendsch Exschperiensche."
"Dood! Why shud it be yer band name?" Pickles complained
"I am obviouschly the biggest schelebrity!"
"Den why don't we ams calls da bands Titty Fishes," snickered Skwisgaar, to a murderous glance from Murderface.
"CRUNCHY FROG!" Nathan declared.
"Oh. I think Ganesh would like that one," Charles acknowledged. His eyes drifted down to the field far below. "Oh, shit, just a minute you guys. Go ahead and keep brainstorming...."
He tore out pf the VIP box and raced down the stands, ignoring some burly security personnel to hop the railing that separated the cheap seats from the field.
It was Jacque, accompanied by Elegba. Charles had no idea how his father had found them
"What the fuck are you fucking doing here?" Jacque was demanding of Raziel.
"I'm trying to watch the fucking concert!" Raziel told him.
“You fucking ruined my fucking palace,” Jacque told her.
"You fucking shot at us!"
"You fucking stole my fucking son!"
"You fucking kidnapped your fucking son!"
“Will you two fucking quit it?” Charles snapped, pulling up, breathless. between them.
“Are all of you QUITE incapable of speaking the Queen’s English?” Ganesh wailed.
"Oh fuck!" Charles said, suddenly looking up.
"See! This is what I'm talking about...."
"No," Charles explained, pointing to the sky. "What's happening out there?"
"I have been keeping the tear in the universe under careful observation," Ganesh explained, "And I see no-"
"Not the tear! The sun!"
They turned to stare at the fiery entity, which had quite suddenly doubled in size.
"Er. I believe the sun is on the verge of going supernova," Ganesh posited.
"Get the band! Get everybody the fuck out of here!" Charles shouted.
Ganesh called out a prearranged signal into his communicator.
Somewhere, in a VIP box high above, Dick Knubbler shouted, "To the limos, babies! Yeah!"
Our universe, Lord Ganesh's estate....
The bearded man knelt down and carefully traced the symbols in rooster blood on the floor of the damp, darkened, ruined living room. What was done must be done with utmost care. He paused and wiped some sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
And then a killer frog hopped across the floor, in hot pursuit of a bunny rabbit.
Ganesh sat back and sighed. "Gods damn it," he muttered. He was distracted by the opening notes of "Little Wing" sounding from his cellular phone. He wiped his hands on a towel and, carelessly tossing it aside, grabbed the phone.
"Lady Raziel! Yes, I'm close I just... Yes, Uncle Wotan stopped by with the, er, ingredients. Was Seth...? He's already departed? Did you...? With a, er, booger? Really, well, I would have liked to have witnessed that. So, you are not in need of assistance? No, really, no more help here, I just need.... Wait!"
Lord Ganesh looked up. There was a deadly frog atop his head. He grabbed it, and glared at it.
"Tell me," he told the phone, "Does Jean-Pierre have any recipes that perhaps require as ingredients hares and poison toads? Yes, I am perfectly aware of my vegetarian status. I find these days I am requiring additional protein."
The frog croaked accusingly at him.
"Pfffft," he told it.
In another universe....
It wasn't the audience evacuation that had worried him: in the end, the casualty rate from Dick Knubbler Presents a Dr. John's Celebrity Rehab Mystery Concert Featuring The Knubblerettes and Other Special Guests was low compared to a typical Dethklok concert. Aside from a very few cases of trampling, it was mostly complaints of mild radiation burns from amongst those seated too close to the supernova (which it had been absurdly easy to explain away as an especially spectacular laser light show).
No, the prospect that had concerned Charles the most was arresting Dethklok when they were in the middle of an especially brutal number. In the end, Raziel powered up to her Seraphim Form and grabbed the Dethklok boys up like a greedy child clutching at little action figures. Including Pickles, who was not happy about being manhandled.
"It don't matter da yooniverse, you haven feckin' idea how do do da spirit Walk!" he screamed at her as she set him down at the rendezvous point on the desert planet, Tatooine, a safe distance from the exploding solar system.
"I like my Pickles better," she grinned, reverting to her Court Form. "This one is too fussy."
"That ams actually pretty cool laser lights show, dudes," Dethklok Skwisgaar commented, watching the sun melt down.
"Did it work?" Charles asked Ganesh, who was squinting through a rather eccentric looking telescope. It was covered with gears and odd dials.
"I don't understand," the god comment. "That kind of celestial phenomenon usually takes millions of years! Added to the fact that that sun was not even in a class nor age likely to go through an ignition of that magnitude."
"That's my band."
"I am frankly speechless."
"And the tear?"
"i believe the explosion successfully sealed off the universe. There is no trace of the discontinuity," Ganesh marveled.
Charles held his breath.
"You mean it worked?"
"Apparently."
"Damn. I'm good," Charles whispered.
The pleasant feeling faded almost immediately, however. He looked over to where Raziel had deposited his Dethklok. Too fucking close by. Given that the universe was now no longer in imminent danger from the discontinuity, he was now concerned about a violation of reality should Dethklok meet anti-Dethklok.
"Who are thosche douschebagsch?" Dethklok Murderface was grumbling, looking over to the assorted members of Death Frog. "They're schome ugly motherfuckersch."
"Murderface, they are obviously our doubles in this universe!" Nathan explained. "We should go and thank them for getting killed or horribly disfigured for us!"
"Actually, they're not...." Charles started, just arriving on the scene.
"Dat guys ams handsome devils," grinned Skwisgaar, eagerly sizing up his opposite.
"Dood! I need to talk to dat guy!" Pickles pleaded. "He might have some spiritual guidance! Da mysteries of da universe! Or, really awesome weed!"
"Look," Charles tried, "you guys need to go with Raziel NOW and...."
"WHY WON'T YOU LET US TALK TO THE ME'S?" Nathan bawled, to the assent of nearly everybody.
"I've told you, if you guys meet yourselves, it could destroy the universe!"
"We heard there wasch MINI GOLF," Murderface bitched.
"Yeah, but....!" Charles told him. "If you meet yourself, uh..... You could get trapped in this universe! And.... There are NO COCKTAIL SAUSAGES HERE!"
"Oh, god no!" said Nathan. He gripped Charles by the shoulders. "IT'S A NIGHTMARE UNIVERSE! A NIGHTMARE!"
Raziel looked confused, but Charles managed to give her a signal, so she once again True Formed and grabbed Dethklok, including a still heavily bitching Pickles, and whisked them back to Ganesh's estate.
"So, you're not real?"
Charles turned. It was Death Frog's Toki. Charles silently cursed this universe's Dick Knubbler for not gathering them up and taking them home right away.
"I'm real," he told this Toki. "I'm just not human."
"Are you an angel? Like her?"
Oh boy. Fucked up abusive religious upbringing. Mixed with possible parricide in this universe. No matter what potential reality, Toki always seemed to get it up the ass. Charles' thoughts drifted to another reality. Where he would show up 20 years earlier at Rev. Aslaug's doorstep. With a claw hammer.
"I'm sort of an angel. Not like her though." Toki looked skeptical, so he continued, "I got in trouble. Being an angel. So I don't work for those guys any more." Sorry, no angelic forgiveness here. He decided to try a change in topic. "Pickles tells me you're a pretty fucking good guitarist."
Toki's smile was small but genuine. "Thanks."
"Just a fair warning. We'd like you to participate." We need you to participate. "But Skwisgaar, as lead guitarist...."
"I LIKE Skwisgaar!" Toki enthused.
It was so genuine. It would have broken his heart, he thought, if he'd had one to break. "Just.... Don't let him give you too much shit. OK?"
"TOOOOKIIIIII!" This universe's Nathan. "Pickles says you know an AWESOME STRIP CLUB."
"Yeah. Sure," Toki told them, the whole nascent band now crowding around him, awaiting transport to the Promised Land.
"You ams sure you don't gotta gets back to Lavo?" Skwisgaar laughed.
"Oh, she's uh, inside a carpet today," Nathan explained
"WHATS?"
"It's, you know, an art project where they roll her up inside a carpet, and it, uh, means something and stuff...." But the rest of Nathan's no doubt authoritative explanation was lost as a grinning Knubbler tossed Charles a CD and whisked them off to mini golf and strip bars.
Charles pocketed the CD.
"That was pretty fucking impressive, Charles!"
Charles turned around. "Jacque! I need to fucking talk to you!"
"I am beginning - beginning! - to reassess my fucking objections to you music industry career ambitions."
Charles scowled. "They're not ambitions! I'm fucking successful!"
"I still think you should consider the law! Why fuck around with fucking music when you've got a fucking education!"
"I'm not..... Look, Jacque. The tear is gone. The universe will be OK. All I want is for you to reverse the spell and let me go."
Jacque and Elegba looked at each other.
"Oh what the fuck is it now?" Charles wailed.
"Ain't no reversing that spell, boy," Jacque said quietly.
"What?" Charles thought he must have misheard. He prayed he must have misheard.
"Couldn't risk that I'd lose heart. I'm one sentimental cocksucker, ask anybody. Couldn't risk letting you go. Prematurely. This is my fucking universe, you know." Jacque stood stubbornly staring at the ground.
Charles felt like his heart had been yanked out and given a good stomp. "Then, I'm.... You trapped me here? For good?"
Jacque waved his hand. "Ah. Your pretty boyfriend, or those crazy musician motherfuckers, they'll figure something. I have no doubt. No doubt at all."
"You ... cocksucking motherfucker."
"That I am."
Jacque motioned to Elegba, who handed him something. "I had this made for you, 'cause you're a fucking Ogoun now. Maybe you'll decide to use it on me!" Jacque chuckled and handed him a machete.
It was cast in silver.
Charles stared at the gorgeous silver blade. "I can't accept..." he started.
But Jacque was gone.
And he was all alone.
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no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 02:22 am (UTC)Death Frog is still around. They might be changing their name. To Titty Frog.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 03:23 am (UTC)Titty Frog? Hmm...sounds like something Z would draw up.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 03:40 am (UTC)*lulz*
Yes, that is one DAMN FINE PLAN! :D Plus, PIE!