Historical Figures and Ancient Heads
Chapter Six

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles, Toki/Skwisgaar, Murderface/Knubbler, Pickles/OC.
Warnings: None
Summary: Dethklok needs a spare drummer, and Charles discovers there are times when it is better not to think.
Notes: Erick Fisher belongs to Rei and nobody else.

Illustration of Charles by Zsomeone.

Davida Mundy stared at the man seated across the desk from her, flanked by a man and a woman, each dressed in executioner-style outfits.

"Mr. Offdensen I am delighted to have you take an interest in my humble little label. As you can see we are a very small outfit, with half the building dedicated to being a recording studio and the other half devoted to the business of being a record label. The handful of bands we feature so far can't afford recording facilities, so we provide a place for them to record their music, then are paid back for our time when and if they see a profit. Hazard Records is devoted to the idea of promoting bands and music that may otherwise never be heard. We're not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination... as you can probably see..." she finished morosely as a rat galloped across her desk.

The female guard eyed the rat keenly, slowly pulling a gun from a hip holster. Charles lifted a hand to forestall her.

"We all start at the bottom. This is a palace compared to Dethklok's first apartment."

"Well I can only assume that you are not here to make use of our recording studios." Davida quickly shut the office door as in the hallway Joey began scratching himself against the wall. Charles politely pretended not to have noticed.

"No, we're well set for that, thank you. I'll get right to the point. Ms. Mundy, Dethklok is in the market for a new record label. Preferably one that will not interfere in the creative decisions. We're in the process of creating a final album and farewell tour, and... well, the boys must have their way."

She blinked at him. "So... let me get this straight. You are asking me to sign Dethklok to Hazard Records.... because Cornickelson was unwilling to let them do a couple of covers on a double album?"

"Well, it's not only that. He also called our front man fat." Somewhere under Charles’ perfectly straight face squirmed a shit-eating grin.

Davida blinked a few times, trying to comprehend that. Then she became outraged. "I happen to think Nathan's tummy is adorable. All right Mr. Offdensen, let's talk contract. And just so we're clear; they can sing the Batman and Robin version of Jingle Bells if they want."

It took several hours for the contract to be fully negotiated, and Davida was well aware of the fact that she was letting Charles skew things just slightly more favourably for his boys, but that was his job. Her job was to let him know she was aware of his tactics and the things she was letting him get away with were not being awarded because she was too naïve to know better. She was a business woman. Furthermore she had learned from Charles himself, albeit through a couple of books he had written. However this was Dethklok, not some untried band. She was willing to make exceptions. Then when it was all signed and done, she offered him a glass of brandy.

"You probably don't remember me at all," she said, "but before I went into the recording business, I was an emergency room nurse. I was actually the fan who ran on stage after the fireworks blew up in Skwisgaar's face."

Charles gave her a smile that implied he'd known all of this. "You don't say?"

"Yeah I was the one who started treating his burns while Toki sat on him. I've been sort of keeping track of him. He ended up pretty much blind, didn't he? Over 80% vision loss?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Poor baby," she said softly. "There are nights I still hear him screaming. I thought he was going to lose his eyes completely."

"He's doing well," he assured her. "He's the same Skwisgaar. He just sometimes looks the wrong way when you talk to him."

"Poor baby. Well I'm sure he's still loved and looked after. Man he is a pretty, pretty piece of man-meat. Ah what do I care? I wouldn't know what to do with a man that tall and hot. I have a budgie that swears. What more does a woman need?"

"He's very well-cared for," Charles assured, deciding it best to ignore the majority of that little speech.

Davida decided that she needed to be careful about what came out of her mouth when she had been drinking brandy. "Oh I'm sure he is, and I'm glad to hear he still has some vision." She closed her eyes and winced as the rat returned, stopped in the middle of the desk, then stood up on its hind legs as if to say "What's all this then, hmm?"

"Well Mr. Offdensen permit me to say how deeply honoured I am to have your band signed on, and I truly hope that this is not the last album."

"Well, the boys do intend for this to be the bang on which they go out. But you can never know." Charles deftly moved in front of the female Gear as she stared at the rat, her hand moving towards her gun. He offered his hand to Davida. "The honour is ours, Ms. Mundy. I look forward to working with you."

"Davida, please. And thank you. I'll walk you to the door. I should be locking up anyway. I suspect Joey and his boys have left by now." She sighed. "Their fifteen year old drummer is not allowed out after nine pm. He's only a baby but he's already one of the fastest power drummers I've ever seen."

Charles gave a wistful almost-smile. "We imposed a curfew on Toki when he joined. Staying up past midnight made him cranky."

Davida melted visibly. "Oh bless his little heart, I bet he was adorable. I'm sorry, I'm a huge Dethklok fan, and I've been doing my best not to gush like a teenager."

"It's quite all right. You've controlled yourself more admirably than most."

She smiled. "Thanks. I'm working on separating myself from being a fan girl into a business woman. I assure you that once you have left I will make a complete ass of myself." She opened the door to let Charles and his Gears out. "Good night Mr. Offdensen. And between you and me I hope this album is a monumental success, just so I can see the look on Cornickelson’s face."

Charles gave a faint smirk, as close to a smile as he would allow. "The feeling is quite mutual. Good night, Ms. Mundy."

She smiled. "Good night Mr. Offdensen."

She closed the door and locked it, then turned to look at Ginny. There was a long moment of silence, then the two of them began shrieking and leaping like thirteen year olds on too much sugar.

***---***

Charles sat on the bed, brandy in one hand, watching the figure on the TV, as he was recorded decades ago – young, pretty the way dangerous animals were, hanging off the mic stand like a discarded shirt. There he was, the Electric Shaman himself, Mr. Mojo Rising, the Lizard King, a figure who had become as much a myth as the lore he wove into his songs. Charles glanced sidelong at Nathan, who was also a creature of myth, but inspired a totally different kind of awe when he played. Morrison cast spells from the stage; hypnotizing with his mere presence, able to bring a crowd of thousands to absolute silence with a whisper. Nathan just sort of caused incidental mayhem and bloodshed.

“What’s this song?” asked Charles.

“The End,” said Nathan. “It’s one of his long sorta ‘epic’ style songs. It also got him in a shitload of trouble on a few occasions.”

“Really? Why? It’s utterly lovely, it’s so haunting.”

Nathan grinned. “Just keep listening.”

Charles shrugged, happy to do so as Jim Morrison swayed like a serpent, hanging from the mic in his classic stance, eyes closed, full sensual lips just touching the surface of the microphone.

The killer awoke before dawn,
He put his boots on.
He took a face from the ancient gallery,
And he walked on down the hall.

He went into the room where his sister lived,
Then he paid a visit to his brother, and then he…
He walked on down the hall.
And he came to a door.
And he looked inside.

“Father?”
“Yes son?”
“I want to kill you. Mother? I want to….

FUCK YOU!”

Charles was rocked not only by the sudden scream, but by what he was reasonably certain he had just heard.

“Did he just say he wanted to fuck his mother? In the late sixties? When you couldn’t show a belly button on TV?”

Nathan just grinned. “Uh-huh.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Well that would certainly get you in trouble. But at least he knew his Greek mythology.”

“I do too. There once lived a man named Oedipus Rex…”

“Don’t go there.”

“You’re no fun.” Nathan munched a chip. “Why are we watching this?”

Charles smiled slightly. “Because coming up is footage of The Celebration of the Lizard.”

Nathan suddenly sat bolt upright. “I didn’t think there was any! I mean the entire piece itself is so rare! How did you find this?”

“Well I knew it had to exist, snippets have cropped up in documentaries. But finding the whole piece did take a bit of work.”

Nathan just stared at Charles for a long moment, then suddenly tossed the chips aside and pounced on him.

“Nathan! You’ll miss the Celebration….”

“Fuck the Celebration. That’s what rewind is for.”

Charles squeaked in pleasure as he was abruptly violated. “Any other Doors footage I can get for you?”

“Sex now. Talk later.”

“SQUEAK!”

Nathan kissed him hard, thrusting slow and deep. Charles just grinned and held on. He couldn’t wait for Nathan to find out they had finally been given the rights to perform the piece.

***---***

Toki walked into the bedroom he shared with Skwisgaar, over to the bed and getting under the covers, spooning up to his lover, stroking the white-blonde hair.

“You awake?”

“No.”

Toki smiled. “You needs anyt’ing?”

“Just you.” Skwisgaar slowly rolled over to drape an arm across his middle, resting his head on Toki’s chest. “Am I still pretties?”

“Still pretties.”

“Can’ts see in da mirror no more. I worries sometimes. I has dreams I gets my sight back an’ finds out I mutilate-sted.”

“No. No not at all. Still beautiful.”

“Would you tells me if I was?”

Toki winced. “I don’ts know, Skwisgaar. What is matter anyway? You nots ugly. An’ if you was, what good would come froms telling you? Just make you sadder and you is already nots talks for long time.”

“Is matter to me!”

“Well you can stops worrying, is not’ings wrong wit’s you face. Is you guitars playing dats mutilate-sted.”

“Oh dat’s it, Toki nots get not’ings tonights.”

“Oh no? Maybes Toki just takes advantage of pretty Skwisgaar.” He kissed him, slowly moving over top of him. “Now I has you.”

“Pfft. Maybes I has you.”

Toki suddenly felt himself held tightly by a long pair of legs. He just grinned. “I nots minding.”

Skwisgaar kissed him. “I nots mindings either.”

Toki slid his hand over Skwisgaar’s lean ribs. “You going to be okies, going on tour? Is nots going to be too scaries?”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Don’ts know. Won’ts until I’s on da stage.”

“I don’t wants you scared.” Toki kissed him.

“I done being scareds. I was scareds too long. Is time to gets on wit’ t’ings. We nots young no mores. Time to takes da bow an’ moves on.”

“You goings to miss it? Da touring? Da craziness?”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Don’ts know. Don’ts know anyt’ing anymore. Funny how we is never t’ought we gets here. Still betters to go outs metal dan mud.”

Toki kissed him again. “Ja. We goes out more metals dan when we come in, right Skwisgaar?”

“Ja. Den…. We see whats else life has for us. Maybes find a bull skin, two raven eggs, an’ makes Charlie’s hair goes greyer.”

Toki laughed quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little Toki.”

***---***

“Okay we have a prahblem,” said Pickles.

They were standing in their recording space, watching as the Gears swept the dust from the speakers and got the place ready for use once more.

“Just one?” said Nathan as Skwisgaar managed to trip over a crack in the floor.

“I mean if I’m out front during Dazed and Confused and the intro song, then who is gonna play the drums?”

“I will,” said Nathan.

Pickles narrowed his eyes at him. “Can you play the drums?”

“No, but…. how hard can it be?”

“Do four things at once. Right now.”

“Man I can’t do four things at once.”

“Then you can’t play drums.”

“Well I can play drumsh,” said Murderface.

“Nots sure gettings drunk on Saint Patrick’s Day an’ hittings guy wit’ a bodhran counts,” said Toki.

“Sure it does!”

“We need you on bass, where you’re almost useful,” said Pickles. “And Skwisgaar is doing the Jimmy Page thing.”

“Skwisgaar can’t plays da drums anyway,” said Toki. “He nevers learn.”

“Well we need a drummer. We can’t do Dazed and Confused without a drummer,” said Nathan. “I mean the studio version is no big deal, Pickles can do both tracks but he can’t do that on stage.”

“Well here we go!” said Murderface, working up to one of his legendary tantrums. “Now we gotta hire some douchebag to go on tour with us!”

“Well dood it’s naht like it’s never been done before,” said Pickles. “Queen did it. Some other bands too.”

“I don’t wanna share spasche with some arrogant schmelly talentless douche,” said Murderface, crossing his arms.

“Why not?” said Nathan. “We do.”

“Dood that’sch not a nische thing to say about Pickles.”

“I was talking about you.”

“Well FINE! How about I just kill myself?!”

The studio door opened, and Charles walked in. “So how’s the album coming?”

“We need a drummer,” said Nathan.

“Okay…. How about Pickles?”

“No we need a drummer for when he does his two songs live on stage,” said Nathan.

“All right,” said Charles, “I can look into hiring some…”

“We don’t want schome nobody tagging along!” said Murderface.

“Well fine,” said Charles. “How about we can the tracks Pickles lays down and just play it back for the show?”

“Who does we looks likes to you?” said Skwisgaar. “Milli Vanilli?”

“Dude for all you know we could look like Milli Vanilli,” said Pickles.

Skwisgaar huffed. Charles raised an eyebrow. “Well what do you boys want?”

“A drummer we’re familiar with,” said Murderface.

“Yeah!” said Toki. “Someones we know!”

“Well… I can play drums,” said Charles.

“OH HERE WE GO!” ranted Murderface. “IT’SCH JOHN LENNON AND YOKO ONO ALL OVER AGAIN! NATHAN’S BITCH IS GONNA BE HANGING WITH THE BAND NOW!”

“Okay,” said Nathan. “Just because you called my man a bitch, we’re gonna let him audition now.”

“HE CAN’T COME ON TOUR! HE’SH GONNA NERD THE PLACE UP!”

“Oh gives Charlies a chance,” said Toki.

“Ja,” said Skwisgaar. “Lets da littles guy play.”

Nathan just grinned. He knew the only reason the Toki and Skwisgaar were in favour of Charles playing was because it was pissing off Murderface, but that was fine. Charles could play the drums, and he could play well, and within moments he was proving it. Nathan just stood back and grinned as Charles hammered his way through ‘Awaken’ as if he had spent his life as a drummer. At the end, most of the band was satisfied.

“Sounded good to me,” said Pickles.

“Ja, me toos,” said Skwisgaar. “You, Toki?”

“Ja! Was great!”

“HE’SH GONNA NERD THE PLACE UP AND MAKE USH WEAR PANTSH!”

“So how is that any different from what he usually does?” asked Nathan.

“So did I pass the audition?” asked Charles.

There was a round of applause from everyone but Murderface.

***---***

The announcement that Dethklok would be releasing a double album and going on tour to promote it was like a shotgun blast in a church. The reaction was immediate and chaotic, with fans saying everything from it was a hoax to a horrid mistake. Most simply did not believe it. They had seen the photos of Pickles looking crippled, Nathan looking considerably fatter than was his norm and Skwisgaar looking frightened and closed off. They simply did not believe that Dethklok was going on tour, and most said they would not go to the show, preferring to remember them in their glory days, not as five broken-down has-beens.

Cornickelson released a condescendingly polite statement from Crystal Mountain Records wishing Dethklok all the best with their new label, Hazard Records, and fans again took this as another sign that Dethklok were indeed done. If they were still capable of bringing in the bucks why had Crystal Mountain dumped them? No no no, this was all wrong!

It was the first time Charles had ever seen a tour announcement greeted with panic. Finally he agreed to appear on a daytime talk show, the host Karol Ambrose inviting him personally. Charles liked Karol; she didn’t take herself seriously and had an obvious soft spot for the band, including once inviting Toki and Skwisgaar on to prepare some traditional Scandinavian dishes. It had been going along really well too until the gravlax exploded.

They never did find out what caused that.

“So, Charles,” said Karol, smiling. “What the hell are they doing?”

Never one to beat about the bush, he mused. “Well they’re going on tour. I thought that was fairly self-explanatory.”

“So this is not a hoax. Dethklok are releasing a double album and going on tour.”

“Yes. They are. This will be their farewell tour, and after that they plan to retire.”

“Does that mean they’ll get their own places?”

“Well there is really no point, they would just all be visiting each other constantly anyway.”

“So they really are just as close as they ever were?”

“The boys are very tight,” said Charles. “They like to keep their own company, and besides I’m…. really not sure anyone else would put up with them.”

Karol raised an eyebrow. “You live with them too.”

“I do. But I have my own apartments on the estate. I actually have a place to escape to when they start blowing things up or playing Herring Ball. They’re…. not significantly different now from when they were younger.”

“Herring Ball?” Karol intoned slowly.

“I’m really not clear on the rules, but it involves a herring, a golf club and a throwing axe. I usually just… try to avoid getting involved if at all possible. They’re… they’re a lively bunch.”

“So how are they?” she asked. “That’s the question on everyone’s mind. I mean are they capable of doing a tour?”

Charles thought about his next words carefully. Part of the game plan for this tour involved not letting anyone know exactly what sort of shape the boys really were in. On the other hand the business school graduate in him rebelled at the idea of intentionally sabotaging a tour. Then again, if he blew the boys’ scheme, they’d be really upset…

Of course the very long pause he had just given while thinking this over sort of blew to hell any chance he had of making it seem like the boys were even capable of scratching their own asses any more.

“I’m… sure they could,” he said.

Those words, along with his wide-eyed, slightly rabbit-in-the-headlights expression would haunt him on YouTube for months.