Dethklok Hero

The arena blasted sound. Massive spikes lined the stage, and the spikes dripped acidic poison. Pyrotechnics misfired periodically into the crowd, sending chunks of fans scattering hundreds of feet into the air, where they were shredded by the rotors of hovering dethcopters.



The fans went wild as five guitars started at once. Nathan started roaring.



“Shred the pristine flesh!

Shred the untouched flesh!

Shred the virgin flesh!

Faces melting, fingers bleeding

For the blackened hungry demons feeding

This torture eats your every waking hour

Your life is gone, by instruments devoured!

Shred the flesh!”



Judy held one hand in the air, making her axe scream by fingering its neck one-handed. The crowd went wild.



“Shred the bleeding flesh!

Shred the scarred flesh!

Shred the wounded flesh!

Your sacrifice not appreciated

Soul and hands now mutilated

No one cares about your fucking pain

Put the steel cords to your neck again!

Shred the flesh!”



Casey and Judy hit hard riffs, each one switching from high to low pitches in sequence with each other. Toki started sweating nervously.



“Shred the flayed flesh!

Shred the mottled flesh!

Shred the infected flesh!

Your friends have all left you behind

They see the failure as the fate of all your kind

Year after year your hopes have passed you by

The fingers on your neck say it’s time for you to die!

Shred the flesh!”



Toki peeled out, playing with a speed he usually died at. One by one, he took his fingers off the guitar. He took one hand away, playing with four fingers. Then three, then two.



Then one.



The crowd howled. A few people threw themselves onto the poison spikes, wanting to never hear anything so hardcore again. Their bodies melted before bursting into flames. Judy and Casey paled, forced from the stage by Toki’s power.



“Shred the dying flesh!

Shred the burning flesh!

Shred the slaughtered flesh!

Now you find yourself a broken, dying heap

Blood leaking from your body torn from places deep

You think peace will come after the savage pain of death

But there is no escape because your neck never could draw breath!

Shred the flesh!”



With a smile and a cute bob of her pigtails, Midori started playing at the highest and lowest points on her guitar strind simultaneously. She shredded notes until her fingers were almost touching, then shredded each fret with both hands. People in the crowd frothed at the mouth, some of them bled from their eyes, and still others exploded spontaneously.



Toki froze, unable to move. A roadie moved him off the stage like a big amp.



“That’s brutal.

Shred the slaughtered flesh!

Shred the decaying flesh!

Shred the oozing flesh!

All your little hopes for peace come to a lot of fucking nothing

Your soul just rots with your body trapped within your fucking coffin

You can only wish your spirit burned instead of staying in the darkened earth

All you can know now is that you built this fucking death starting with your fucking birth!

Shred the flesh!”



Skwisgaar Skwigelf started slow. Slow, for him. He ran through the scales.



Midori played them faster.



Skwisgaar played notes with blinding speed.



Midori played them faster.



Skwisgaar played a set which caused an amp to explode.



Midori played one which made people explode.



Skwisgaar’s shoulder strap broke.



Midori’s skirt caught fire.



Two of Skwisgaar’s strings snapped under the strain.



Midori’s next riff was so complex that it drove people listening too closely into insanity. She poured sweat and her fingers bled as she ended her set.



With his broken strings, Skwisgaar played. Blood rained from the sky, the earth cracked open and gouts of flame erupted as demons crawled out of Hell to see what the trembling from above was. Planes crashed into the crowd as ravens blotted out the sun.



Skwisgaar dabbed sweat from his forehead.







Pickles looked at the paper. “Hey, this is a pretty good review,” he turned the front page for everyone to see.



GUITAR DUEL ENDS LIVES OF LUCKY FEW



“Yah, that’s pretty good,” Skwisgaar said. “Dids it mentions me?”



“Hell yeah,” Pickles shook the paper.



“What’s about me?” Toki asked.



“UUUUuuuuuhhhhhh....sort of,” Pickles scanned the paper. “Says here, ‘Dethklok’s rhythm guitarist was also present’. That’s you.”



“Awesome!” Toki sounded happy.



“Yeah, that’s great,” Nathan sipped his coffee. “So Skwisgaar, what was up with those girls anyhow?”



“I tolds them to take a hike,” Skwisgaar replied, fingering his frets. The rest of the band stared at him.



“Yeah, that’s fine,” Murderface sighed. “I mean, having beautiful sex slaves comes easy for guys like us...DAMMIT!” He kicked over a table as he left the room.



The band was quiet for a while.



“Well,” Pickles looked at Skwisgaar. “I’m not so sure that’s the route I would have taken, there Skwisgaar. But, I respect your...” he trailed off. “...actually, no. That’s retarded.”



“Ha! Gots you’s!” Skwisgaar pointed at the band members still around him. He played a high cord on his guitar, and the three defeated women walked into the room, each wearing leather boots and gloves with a spiked collar, but wearing nothing else. “I mades them our sex slaves!”



“OOH!” The other band members high-fived him.



“You got us!”



“You mades us think you’s am letting them go!”



“Dude! Good one!”