DethloveKlok

Hundreds of people managed to find their way to the top-secret launch site of the Dethklok rocket, and more found the places where the fan rockets would be launched as well. It was a veritable three-ring-circus and Ofdensen had his hands full with the security and other last-minute details. He was ever suave and smooth, even that time he had to try on a spacesuit during a safety brief and everyone else laughed at him. A brilliant study in grace and efficiency, he was never unruffled, even when a guy showed up at the launch site with enough TNT to blow them all sky high strapped to himself. He was caught, disarmed, and put in the reinforced pit to have a rocket barbecue. He would be less than ash in T-minus 40 seconds. That made Off's wide mouth twitch ever so slightly into the faintest of grins. It was times like these he loved his job.

The members of Dethklok crowded around the viewscreens to get a good look of the liftoff--the ground grew farther and farther away, everything receding faster and faster. The two females were just as ruthless in their bid for a good view, elbowing the men out of the way.
"Wowee," breathed Judy and Toki together.
"Hey guys," came Pickles' chipper voice. "I just thought o' somethin. We're the first metal band in space! That's the shit!"

"Yeah!," Nathan agreed. He LOVED BEING MOTIVATED. "That's awesome! And we're truckin' our audience to the fuckin Moon!"

"And if we meet anything livin' on the Moon we're gonna kill it!," crowed Murderface.

"YEAH!," Nathan was sweating like a gorilla now in his enthusiasm. "WE'RE REALLY DOIN' IT!"

"Woo hooo!," yelled Judy and Katrina.

"Whys are we yellings?," asked Skwisgaar, guitar strapped to him as usual.

"Cause we loves beings motivatedals?," asked Toki.

"This thing have laschers?," asked Murderface, hazel eyes twinkling with anticipated mayhem.

"Oh yeah," answered Nathan. "We made sure of that. OH GAWD I FORGOT ABOUT THE LASERS! HOLY SHIT!," he panted, getting worked up again.

"I called it firsht!," shouted Murderface, heading for the Control Room. "I wanna schoot asteroids like in the video game, only it'll be for real!"

"Shit on a brick, I'm comin too!," Nathan said as he hurried after the bassist.

"Time for bong hits," declared Pickles, producing a Led Zeppelin bong and a bag of what appeared to be a whole pound of weed. "Gonna trip balls on this space trip."

"I wants to has my full facoolties whiles in spacetimes," says Skwisgaar. Really he was afraid of marijuana slowing down his incredibly fast hands when playing guitar.

"You shoulds lives a little," scoffs Toki, taking a good long hit when it was passed to him.

"You shoulds practice more and goof offs less," he jabs back. "Then maybes you won't always be second fastest guitarist.

"You worlds biggest dumb-dick jackoff asshole, shoulds be proud of yourself," sniffed Toki, coughing. "Heyyy dis some good stuff, Pickle."

"Well yous only second biggest dumb-dick asshole jerkoffs whatever you say it," Skwisgaar shoots back.

"Jah and your moms is da sluts. She what the Irish calls an aul' hooerbag."

"Toki, I has to kill you now. Youse offended my honors," Skwisgaar removed his guitar and started toward Toki who was merely laughing at him.

"Boys," warned Offdensen, sensing the tension. "We'll have to set up for the concert right after touchdown on the Moon, and I don't want any of you hurting each other or yourselves." Skwisgaar sat back down, glowering at Toki. "Is that...pot?," Ofdensen asked.

Judy was holding the bong, eyes wide as the CFO looked round at all of them. "Ahhh," the girl stammered. "Maybe?"

"Jah maybe the robots should smoke some, might makes you more cooler," Skwisgaar taunted Ofdensen.

"Guys, I'm at an astounded lack for words," he said in his clipped voice. He left the room seething.

Six pairs of eyes silently observed as Nathan and Murderface raced happily through the passageway, completely oblivious. The eyes belonged to six leather-clad, impossibly armed and beautiful women. The eyes of the leader of the group were dark as the Abyss and she was much deadlier. Her name was Lavena Succuboso and her Squad had one purpose--kill Nathan Explosion, but only after extracting his sperm in order to spawn a race of supermen to take over the world with. Lavena had decided she wanted to have her way with him a bit first, if time permitted. She smiled at the thought--her perfect Cupid's-bow, red-painted lips curling up.

She turned to the girl next to her, a tall shapely blonde with a beehive hairdo. "You still set on your own plan?," she asked in her purring Italian accent.

"Yes, Mistress," answered the other.

"Then don't waste my Dust; use it well. It's taken me years to perfect the formula."

"I know, Lavena. But not even Ofdensen will be able to resist my charms now, the blond asserts.

"Then good luck to you, Lila, my sister. I expect you to rendezvous at the appointed time and place. Good hunting."

"Good hunting," the blonde repeated back.

The remaining five femme fatale agents continued to stalk Nathan.

At the same time another faction was making their move, hacking into the computer system and learning all they could of the advanced machinery. It was nine kinds of difficult planting Anti-Dethklok agents in the different ships and modules, along with providing for members to be in the audience at strategic points. Two million American dollars per fan is a lot of currency to raise, after all.

Dennis made a last-minute communication to his commander via a disguised watch. He was the leader of this endeavor and wanted to be sure nothing went wrong. "Everything's in place, Commander. We're just waiting for the right time."

"Good. That's great. I'll give you the signal," came the response in the form of a bland, clipped voice filled with hidden menace. Dennis switched off, brushing a lank strand of blond hair from his sweaty forehead.


Ofdensen was seated before an array of screens and readouts, sipping coffee. He coordinated much of the security and normal running of the Dethrocket while experienced and highly-paid NASA workers and pilots actually steered its course through space. Something catches the slender man's eye--a silent motion alarm going off indicating an intruder. How? Where?, he thought, and the hair on the back of his neck raised. He whirled in the swivel chair to see a gorgeous blonde approaching.

"How the hell?," he wondered, tripping the silent alarm. Nothing happened.

The strange woman laughed. "I'm not stupid," she told him, her manner of speaking similar to his. "It's already disabled."

"And the guards outside?"

"Out of the way," she smirked. "I know you, Charles Foster Ofdensen, CFO and manager of Dethklok, age 42, currently single," she recited. "Five feet, eleven inches tall, IQ near-genius level. Exactly what I've been looking for," she smiled almost sweetly at him.

"Hope you had an enjoyable search," he chipped the words out of ice. "Because it has sadly ended," he lunged for her just as she raised her wrist-guard and discharged some kind of chemical or particles, which she blew in his face. This brought him up short, he assuming the material was mace or something like it. He shook his head and blinked after he got a lungful.

"Cupid's Dust," she explains. "Highly concentrated pheromone compound. Designed to incite unbearable desire in men for the next female they see. Also a bit of something extra to make one more open to suggestion. So relax, my dear," she stepped closer, unzipping her vest.

Rubbing his eyes Ofdensen gazed at Lila, feeling his unshakable control slipping. His vision became cloudy and he felt like he was moving underwater. The woman's beauty seemed to grow and intensify, and a burning, aching sensation spread out from his loins. The only cure for this painful lust, his brain told him, is to give her what she wants. It would be so easy. Nostrils flaring he charged her again, this time tackling a surprised Lila into a computer kiosk. "Ooof!," she went, then elbowed the man's side to make him release her.

"But--but it never fails!," she exclaimed, ducking punches and kicks. He had been slowed by the Cupid's Dust but he rained blow after blow upon her. A kick sent her sprawling to the floor and she managed to douse Ofdensen with another dose. He halted again, shaking his head, addled.

His grey eyes dilated, then he took a step back, mouth hanging slack.

"Finally," Lila says, getting to her feet. "How do you feel, Charles?"

"Good...I feel good," he murmurs, unable to act as he wished.

The blonde took his arm and led him back to the control board. She soon felt a hand around her neck, fingers like metal bands. With some effort she pulled his hand away and slipped it under the vest to cup a full, round breast. "My, your persistent," she declares, removing his glasses from his twitching face.

"I'll kill you," he tells her matter-off-factly.

"I know you want to," she says softly, licking his ear. "But first, you're gonna do something for me. I want you to donate your sperm personally," she blew into his ear, sending chills all over him.


Meanwhile Toki put his lips on Judy's, his arms going around her waist. One moment they'd been joking with Pickles and Katrina and passing around the sacred Led Zeppelin bong, the next they were in each other's arms on the couch. "Damn," snorted Pickles. This must be some horny weed."

"Jah it's getting too hots in her fors me," Skwisgaar says, gets up and departs.

"Hey Toki," called Pickles. "I thought you was into redheads?"

"Not into yous, Pickle. Sorry," Toki replied after finally coming up for air.

"Ah, that hurts," he says sarcastically, downing another beer. "But, Toki my friend, that's you-know-who's daughter yer sucking face with."

"Guys, stop talking like I'm not in the room," Judy scolds.

"They're young and they have hormones," Katrina puts in. "Surely you remember what that was like?"

"Unfortunately I do," he concedes. "And don't call me Shirley."

The young pair nuzzled for a minute until Katrina runs over to Pickles and sits beside him. "Hey, let the more experienced crowd show 'em how it's done," she announces, then grabbed Pickles and dipped the slight man, planting a long, wet, sloppy kiss on him. He was shocked almost to sobriety, and even dropped his fresh beer in the process. Toki and Judy hooted and cheered. When she released him Pickles had stars in his eyes, an almost dreamy expression on his face. "Now that's making out," Katrina said smugly.

"Damn, don't ask me to get up for a while," Pickles laughed. "I got one helluva boner now. But seriously, what's Nat'an gonna say? You know how protective he is. Toki, he's liable to kill ya."

"Nuh uh," refutes Toki. "He knows me, Pickle. I wouldn'ts hurt Judys for the world." He kissed her again.

"Uh, hi Nathan," greets Katrina, noticing him standing in the doorway.

"Well," Nathan growls. "Looks like we're havin a good time. I was gonna see if maybe you wanted to go shoot some asteroids with me with a real laser."

"Dad, we were just--" Judy began.

"You guys fuckin? Cause you should use, like, protection. Shit I have no idea where Toki's been or what diseases he's got."

"Nathans!," Toki fumed. "What, you think I like Skwisgaar? Humping everythings that stands still longs enough?"

"I dunno," the singer shrugged. "I don't want you to knock her up or hurt her. I sure as hell don't want you as a son-in-law!"

The rhythm guitarist's deep blue eyes grew wide at that, his lip trembling. "How...how cans you says such things? I likes you Nathans, and I likes her too! So just deal with it!," he got up and ran sobbing from the room.

"Dad! What the hell is wrong with you?," Judy yelled at him, infuriated. "I can like, love, date, fuck, or kill anybody I want and YOU CAN'T DO NOTHIN' ABOUT IT!"

"Judy, please, Nathan's going about this the wrong way, but don't be like that," Katrina pleads. "Your dad loves you."

"It's not ok! Look at what's happened, who knows if Toki will even play the concert now!," she ran away to look for Toki.

"That went pretty well," hiccuped Pickles, who got a drop-dead look from Nathan.