DethloveKlok

"Riots broke out all over the civilized world when the names of the Dethklok Space Lottery winners were drawn," announced the male reporter, talking in a calm, candid voice while behind him reigned total mayhem. Looting, beatings and firebombings raged in the background as he reported. "Several unconfirmed murders were perpetrated by jealous, disappointed fans, but on the whole the winners were ushered aboard the luxurious Dethklok-provided spaceliners, along with those non-winners who paid the phenomenal fee to see this historic, once-in-a-lifetime event." Just then a molotov cocktail sailed over the reporter's shoulder and struck the cameraman, who screamed and fell with the tv camera. The picture winked out.

This was on one of the many telescreens in Ofdensen's onboard office/command center, but he wasn't watching it at the moment. He was rather..busy...shall we say, his brain blanketed in a fog, until light reflecting off of something shiny caught his eye. While before he'd been seemingly moving in slow motion, now things jolted back into normal speed as his natural ruthlessness assessed the situation and pushed its way back to the forefront. The knife didn't hit its mark as he twisted to the right and wrapped two vice-grip hands around Lila's neck, still inside her, and flattened her against a monitor with his wiry form.

"Mother--fucker!," she hissed, scrabbling at his arms with one hand and trying to find a way to stab him with the other.

"I...told you...I'd kill you...," he found his voice at last, only now realizing he was fighting and fucking at the same time. The woman's legs tightened around his slim waist to keep him from any room to maneuver, sending a jolt of pleasure to them both. How in the hell...

Lila finally brought her blade up under his defenses and sank it into his side. He sprang backwards, disengaging from her and grasping the hilt of the weapon, yanked it out with a curse. The woman, essentially bare, was splayed across the console coughing, and blood poured out of Ofdensen's gash. Thankfully no major organs were hit that he could tell, but he'd need medical assistance soon. The few remaining clothes he was wearing he tried to rearrange as he tripped the secondary silent alarm, then stalked painfully to Lila, who raised her arm to spray him with Dust once more. He slammed her arm to the keyboard, and clutched at his state-of-the-art portable interspacial transmitter(he'd had made for this specific occasion), and brought it down on her frightened face. Again. Again. And again.

The next impact she felt someting give way in her jaw, then something else imploded. Must've been her nose. Crimson spattered Ofdensen's normally suave, sleek face, now twisted into a rictus of rage. He'd never been so horribly violated and humbled in his whole life, he'd prided himself on his intellect and control only have it brushed aside by this crazy bitch. Lila was seeing stars by now and knew if she didn't do something and fast, she'd be a freshly fucked, freshly killed corpse in a matter of seconds. She reached into her belt pocket and pulled out a throwing star, knowing she couldn't throw it, but she opened a nice tear across the man's cheek. It gave her enough precious seconds to squirm out of his grip, and she made for the door. Klokateers entered from that entrance, looking from a beaten, bloody Ofdensen to a naked (well, except for belt and boots) blonde woman, and took after her.

Screaming her frustration and fear she darted out the other door, down a tiny passageway. She heard Ofdensen yelling "Get her! Kill her!" from the room behind, and that spurred her on. Her face ached something terrible, it was already swelling and throbbing. She heard other footsteps, more of those damned hoodies. Ah, a storage room of some sort, she thought to herself, ducking in it and pressing what she thought was a lock button.

Sadly, it wasn't. It was an emergency maintenance pressure lock exit, and she'd activated the countdown sequence. "No! NO!," she cried. Ofdensen's face appeared in the tiny window, his face still bleeding. "End of the line, bitch," he sneered at her. "I could have one of the maintenance crew catch you when you're ejected into space, provided you tell me who you're working for."

"Fuck you, I'll tell you nothing!," she hissed.

"Suit yourself," he sniffed, wiping his wounded face with a handkerchief. The wall console continued its countdown, and Lila took a deep breath right before the outer hatch opened, the vacuum sucking her into space.

"That was...rather brutal," Ofdensen observed. "You," he barked at the closest Klokateer. "Have scans done of every level, send teams out to sweep everything. Nothing must be left untouched, I'm sure there's more of these crazy succubus's aboard. Radio the other modules, put them on full alert. Nothing will stop this concert from happening."

"Yes, sir!"

Someone else watched the lady be jettisoned into space, and made a decision.



"Holy fuck," breathed Nathan. "What happened to YOU?"

The manager looked the worse for wear with his garments hanging off him in shreds, bleeding from his side and face with more blood liberally splattered all over him. "Get the rest of the guys, Nathan," Off tells him in a tone which brooked no disobedience.

"Uhh," went Nathan, who'd been applying himself alone with gusto to the extensive liquor collection they'd brought with them. He still hadn't spoke to anybody since the big shit-hittin-the-fan-o-thon earlier, and was a bit depressed. "Ok."

"We're on high alert, the rocket's been infiltrated and we need to have an emergency safety briefing."

"In--infil--wha?"

"We've got intruders, Nathan."

"Oh. Shit." He took out his Dethphone and called the others. Pickles wasn't answering so he rang Judy reluctantly and asked her to get him. She grudgingly agreed.

The young woman left Toki in his room hugging his Deddy bear and cursing under her breath. She'd almost had him convinced Nathan didn't totally hate him and was close to the point of being able to talk to her father without losing it when the oaf calls her. Oh well, something weird was going on in this rocketship it sounds like, the said to herself. Fuck. How did things get so fucked up?

"Important announcement," came a computerized female voice over the intercom. "We'll be entering lunar orbit in one hour, in which time we will orbit the moon until we reach coordinates Judy's Totally Awesome Moon Plots of Metal and Guts. Thank you."

Pickles rolled over, content in his drunken stupor. In the interim few hours since Nathan's latest meltdown Pickles had drank, and smoked, and drank, and smoked some more. Something made him twitch and open bleary eyes, glanced over at the nude, darkhaired, curvy form next to him, and smiled. He must've been having a great time. Too bad he didn't remember much of it. What the hell was that?

*bang bang bang* "Pickles? You in there?" *bang bang*

"Wha-what? Who's there?," he called, dumping himself unceremoniously out of bed, taking the sheets with him, which revealed another body that had been nestled on the other side of him. Really the only thing different about this one, was that it was a young man. Pickles rubbed his head....hooo-weee that was some good shit he'd been smoking. Or snorting. Or something. He pulled on some pajama bottoms and staggered to the door. "Comin," he said.

"Wha's that?," the female said, smacking lips smeared with lipstick.

"What's goin on?," the guy said, yawning. Both he and the woman were uncannily gorgeous, in that Hollywood, plastic sort of way.

"Shuddup, I'm gonna find out," Pickles snaps back, then opens the door. Jeesh you can't get away from hangers-on even in outer space.

"Pickles everyone's tryin' to get ahold o' you," Judy says breathlessly, her Southern twang becoming more evident as her distress level rose. "Something's wrong cause Ofdensen's in an uproar and wants y'all for some meeting."

"Ok, ok," he placated her, hands outraised. "Lemme get dressed and I'll be right there."

"Could I borrow that Zeppelin bong?," she asked, giving her puppy-dog eyes expression. "While you're gone?"

"I guess..."

"Yay!," she dashed forward to grab it off the dresser, and saw the other occupants.

"You comin' to play too, sweetie?," the young black-haired man asked, blinking his impossibly blue eyes.

"Aw, Gahd no!," interruptied Pickles, aghast. "She's my adopted daughter!"

"Well if you have to go she could stay with us," the woman suggested, sitting up and jutting her too-round breasts out.

"Go on an' get outta here!," the drummer shouted at them. "Just go!"

"Holy mother of God, I don't think I can even express how traumatized I am right now," Judy says, clutching the bong.

"We'll talk about this later, ok? I thought you mighta already knew...I mean, the rest know but nobody ever says anything," Pickles babbled. "It's like out of sight out of mind."

"But Uncle Pickles, why'd you never tell me? I've hardly seen you with anyone at all."

"Dood, I ain't gettin any younger, y'know? I take any opportunity I can get." He threw on a shirt and headed out the door, Judy on his heels. "Guess I'm a bigger man-whore than Skwisgaar, huh?"

"I don't think you're a man-whore," Judy says quietly.

"You don't?," he turned to her in surprise.

"No," she asserts. "But you need to tell me where you find those pretty boys," she grinned.