Fool's Gold (updated 11/3/12)

[Anonymouse]

Thank you SO MUCH for the comments, guys! I always look forward to reading them. For anyone who’s interested in Oda at all, I based her off of

, the lead singer of Guano Apes who, in my opinion, looks like a female Skwisgaar. She’s always wearing black tops and she’s skinny and has blonde hair sometimes and is just pretty. And I love her nose. This song happens to be... slightly relevent to the story line.

I like conspiracies and shit, which is a huge part of the reason I love Metalocalypse so much. So I brought the Tribunal in for this chapter since they’re basically the embodiment of conspiracy. Sorry that the first section is so heavy with that stuff and not so much the sneezing.

---

“Gentlemen.”

Senator Stampingston assumed his usual position before the Tribunal, meeting member’s eyes with his own before clearing his throat and continuing.

"It seems that Dethklok guitarist Skwisgaar Skwigelf has been given his own... Swedish national holiday."

“It's a disgrace,” interrupted General Crozier, “to citizens around the world who have proven themselves deserving of national recognition through philanthropic works and political accomplishments. This guy plays guitar and doesn't donate a cent to charity or better the world in any way and Sweden rewards him with his own holiday?”

“I understand your displeasure, General," said Stampington. "However, we have reason to suspect that there were ulterior motives for granting Skwigelf a nationally recognized holiday...”

This comment raised a few eyebrows and incited a puzzled exchange of glances between the General and Vater Orlaag. The idea that such an event could occur due to anything other than the blind adoration of Dethklok fans was baffling to them. The Senator caught a glimpse of his guest speaker in the doorway and gave him a nod, his cue to enter. “I have brought in modern-day cult expert Mr. Oswalden Kmiotekershauser to explain more… Mr. Kmiotekershauser?”

The screen became illuminated with images of infamous cult figures: Charles Manson, David Koresh, Tom Cruise, some guy named Brendon Small. “Cults have been around since the dawn of mankind,” Kmiotekershauser began in a whispery, melodramatic voice. “In Greek times there were groups dedicated to the worship of archaic figures such as Dionysus, the god of wine, my… personal favorite.

“Cults have persisted through the centuries and still exist to this very day. Most notable recent examples include the Manson Family, notorious for the murder of several people, and the… Church of Scientology, whose sole purpose is to brainwash the masses of the world.

“Whether they know it or not, the band members have come in contact with a great deal of cult members since their rise in popularity. Two out of five concert-goers on any given night are likely to be associated with some sort of Dethklok cult. You might recall Elizabeth Bane, cult fanatic and scam artist who used Pickles the Drummer’s popularity to draw followers from around the country before suffering a… tragic and untimely death.”

A photo of a smoking car, smashed in half by a stray piece of meteorite, flashed across the screen. As if the sight wasn’t gruesome enough, the top half of Ms. Bane’s severed body could be seen plastered across the hood of the car. Kmiotekershauser gave the unflappable Tribunal a moment to take it all in, which they did, unflappably, before he continued.

“Considering Dethklok’s popularity, it should come as no surprise that there is no shortage of Dethcults. There are groups that worship the band as a whole as well as separate groups dedicated to its individual members. Foremost among these organizations is the Cult of the Silver Skull, a powerful cult whose members believe that Skwisgaar Skwigelf is truly a god in possession of supernatural powers.”

He pressed the button on his clicker and a photograph of a man with slicked-back hair the color of copper appeared on the screen. “This man,” Kmiotekershauser continued, gesturing with his pointer, “is Kenneth Stålnacke, the mayor of Kiruna. He is also a high-ranking member of the Silver Skulls. If we are to give any credence to the ‘tweets’ we recovered from his super-secret government Twitter account, he has recently been in contact with this woman, Oda Ivković, former lead singer of one of Skwisgaar’s former bands, Fuckface Academy.” A series of images, mostly news clippings and magazine articles, flashed before them. “According to our sources, Ivković is currently in Kiruna attempting to establish contact with Skwigelf.”

“Oda Ivković has been missing since 2008 and was believed to be dead,” General Crozier said, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. “How has he been able to contact her? And how can she walk about in public freely, without it being broadcasted on every news station in the world?”

It had been such a big deal when she seemingly vanished off the face of the earth almost four years ago. Fuckface Academy had just been in the middle of a tour when her bandmates found her room empty one evening before a show. Every newspaper, magazine, and tabloid had her picture on the cover, and the stories and reports always mentioned Skwisgaar in passing, though he was never suspecting of being involved with her disappearance. In fact, despite being formerly close, Skwisgaar severed all ties with Oda and even somehow managed to tune out any news that didn’t mainly concern Dethklok, so it was likely that he didn't even know she was missing. He quite literally lived in a bubble. A bubble made of brick and steel and shaped like a dragon, but a bubble nonetheless.

“It is likely that her physical appearance is just one of the many things that has been… altered…” Kmiotekershauser said cryptically.

The members of the Tribunal waited for an explanation, but Kmiotekershauser just stood there grinning, his teeth gleaming yellow in the light of his PowerPoint presentation. “Where the hell does he find these quacks,” the General wondered aloud, softly enough so that Kmiotekershauser couldn’t hear.

“We will keep abreast of this situation as it develops,” Stampington said. One of the Tribunal snorted, probably at the word "abreast." “It is likely that Ivković has been recruited to lead the Silver Skulls straight to Skwigelf.”

“What do they plan to do once they find him?” Crozier asked.

Kmiotekershauser let out a shrill laugh that made most of the Tribunal’s stoic members jump in their seats. “The Silver Skulls believe that Skwsgaar is the physical embodiment of metal, that his veins run silver with the very essence of it,” he explained, frantic with passion. “It is a belief among the Silver Skulls that if they can drink Skwisgaar’s blood, they, too, will be filled with the power of metal. They feel he has a duty to share this great gift with all the people of the world, and they will take it by force if need be.”

“Perhaps we should intervene,” Crozier suggested. “Skwigelf is a key component in Dethklok’s fame. If he were to be harmed in anyway… it could hurt the band's status, which would tank the already suffering economy.”

“Be patient, General,” growled Selatcia, leering down at the Crozier knowingly from his icy throne. “We must wait and see who has fate on their side…”

---

Toki’s face felt like cold clay when he reached up to touch it. While there was some faint sensation in the tips of his fingers, he couldn’t feel the pressure of his hand against his cheeks. He tried opening his mouth but his jaw felt wired shut, and when he sniffled it wasn’t air, but fur that fluttered around inside his nostrils.

“Hehhh!--- IHPTCSHH! EH’KSHHH!”

Something squirmed in his arms, something that was not Skwisgaar or Deddy. It had fur, not hair or cloth, and it was breathing hot air in his face. His opened his eyes and found himself staring down a panting wolf.

“Skwisgaar!” he cried, scrambling into a partially upright position. It became second nature for him to call out for Skwisgaar whenever he felt his life was in danger. For instance, after nightmares, which, unfortunately for Skwisgaar, he had quite often.

“Right heres, Toki.”

Within seconds Skwisgaar was crouching by his side. He felt himself being lifted up, his body as heavy and listless as a deer carcass, and he could only hope he didn’t look as appetizing as one to the wolf that was still eyeing him.

“De wolv-es” Toki murmured, shivering violently now that quadropedic companion was no longer sharing its body heat with him. Skwisgaar, who was mostly skin and bones, was hardly an suitable substitute.

“De wolv-es ams friendlies,” Skwisgaar assured him. “Dey ain’ts tried to attack us. One even curls up to sleeps with you and keeps you warms, so I went hutings.”

He gestured towards a small pile of dead animals and Toki squinted, trying to make the most of the wan firelight. There were yellow eyes glinting in the darkness all around them, but they didn’t look menacing. Skwisgaar had built a small spit over the fire and there was some kind of rodent or squirrel roasting above the flames. Toki didn’t feel hungry. He didn’t feel anything. Even his internal organs felt numb from the cold.

He reached out carefully to pet the wolf and it nudged its way into his arms, taking his friendliness as an invitation to return. Skwisgaar continued to hold him, his fingers buried in the wolf’s thick fur. “You sleeps a long times,” he pointed out, kissing Toki’s head gently. “Ams you’s head okay?”

Toki blinked. He wasn't sure if the darkness was to blame for his double vision or not. His whole body ached, too, and he suddenly remembered the events that transpired before he fell asleep. He felt suddenly nauseous with the memory of how much it hurt falling off Rosencrantz and hitting the ice, the way the water churned underneath him as the horse struggled to keep its head above water, how helpless he felt when he realized that nobody was coming to save them.

“Ams we outs in de middles of nowhere still?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Skwisgaar sighed, trembling as he inched closer to the tiny fire. “Ja.”

He had tried finding some indication of the closest way back to Kiruna, or to any town for that matter, but everything looked the same. Flat, snow-covered plains interspersed with dense evergreen forests. Any prints they might have left coming here had probably been covered within minutes, and the stars, the galaxy’s natural compass, were obscured by dark clouds.

When the wolves first approached him like they were old friends he hesitated. Ever since he first ventured down into the snowy crevasse where he found his first guitar the wolves treated him like an ally. While they didn’t hesitate to attack any other child who was stupid enough to wander this far into the wilderness unaccompanied, they had always allowed Skwisgaar to roam freely in their presence and sometimes even followed him around on his adventures. Fortunately they were being friendly with Toki, too, as if they could sense how important he was to Skwisgaar.

Toki nuzzled his face in the nape of the wolf’s neck before lifting his head, his nostrils quivering and his breath coming in soft, desperate pants. “Hnn… hh’ihh… hihh’bTSCH!”

The wolf gave a tolerant grunt as Toki muffled the sneeze against his fur, then turned its head to lick his cheek. Skwisgaar frowned as Toki started coughing deeply and violently, his chest rattling with congestion. He let out a pained whimper and Skwisgaar stroked his hair gently. It was actually frozen in some places from the water. He tried to melt it with the warmth of his hand.

“Shh, relaxes… Charles ams probablies on his way right nows.”

Toki shook his head in disbelief. It took Charles so long to find them the last time they had gotten lost, and by that point they had almost frozen to death. To tell the truth, Skwisgaar didn’t have much faith in their manager either. Even if he could somehow locate them using whatever tracking technology he used to keep tabs on them, it would be difficult to actually see them from a chopper or even a snowmobile. But as inconvenient a location as the forest was, the open plains weren’t any better.

The squirrel speared above the fire suddenly slid off the stick, plopping onto and extinguishing the flames beneath it. “Dammits,” Skwisgaar muttered, his body all too aware of the sudden loss of their last remaining heat sources besides one another. It was a miracle that he'd been able to even start a fire in the first place, after a couple hundred frustrating tries, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to fashion another one.

The wolves grouped closer together, forming a protective ring around the guitarists, and made themselves comfortable, at home in the snow. Even with all the added body heat Skwisgaar was still freezing, and judging from the way he was trembling so was Toki. He couldn't help but feel responsible for this whole situation. “I’m so sorries, Toki…”

Toki began to reply but his breath caught and he tensed up in Skwisgaar’s arms, releasing a wet “Ihhpfftchhh!” against his chest. Once again this was followed by another coughing fit that left him wheezing by the time he was finished. His lungs sounded like deflating balloons, his chest rising and falling as if every breath was a struggle.

They could only last out here so much longer. Toki was sick and injured and Skwisgaar was terrified that every second they wasted waiting out here would only make him regret his own inaction even more.

A pair of eyes as blue as the snow in the dim moonlight suddenly appeared above where the fire used to be. Skwisgaar stared into them for a moment, feeling oddly enough as if he were looking at his own reflection in the dark, and understood at once what he had to do. The wolves rose to their feet as one and began to follow the wolf with the blue eyes deeper into the forest. Skwisgaar stood up too.

“Toki, gets up.”

The rhythm guitarist clung to the lead as he tried to stand. His legs shook, too numb to support his body, but Skwisgaar held him steady. “Where ams… where ams we goings?” he asked breathlessly, his head lolling against Skwisgaar’s shoulder as they began walking.

“To follow the wolv-es.”

Edited July 8, 2012 by AnonyMouse

[Masking]

YAY, WOLV-ES!

But poor Toki. I want to hold him and keep him warm now. I don't care if he sneezes on me.

Find them, Charles!

[ichixshiro14]

Gahhhh this is great!!! I could totally see Skwisgaar having a camaraderie with the wolves

[NameTaken]

Toki's sneezing is just hnng always so cute and sexy at the same time.

And wow, that tribunal part is so well written :0 You are extremely good at writing in the character's voices. Also, drama!

[March Hare]

VERY exciting. I love it!

[Anonymouse]

I suck at H/C, but this whole chapter is supposed to be full of it, so, uh... yeah lol. I tried.

---

It was still dark by the time they reached the house, though they had traveled for what felt like hours, taking brief breaks to allow Toki to regain enough strength to walk with minimal assistance from Skwisgaar. By the time they reached their destination there was about three more feet of snow on the ground, and snow flurries still fluttered down like dying hummingbirds from the dark gray sky. The wolves finally dispersed, positioning themselves around the perimeter of the house like sentries.

Toki, who had his arms wrapped weakly around Skwisgaar’s waist and his face buried against his upper arm, lifted his head tiredly to squint at the building. “Where… where ams we?”

“My house,” Skwisgaar said after a moment, when he was sure he wasn’t just imagining his childhood home before him.

There weren’t any lights on inside. Skwisgaar approached the door hesitantly, trying the knob, which turned easily. His mother always left the door unlocked, whether she was home or not. He entered and Toki stumbled along beside him, ready to collapse into the first piece of furniture they encountered which, much to Skwisgaar’s chagrin, was the armchair his mother liked to… use… when men came over.

“Moms?” Skwisgaar called out.

There was no response. The house was fairly small, but he walked to the other end of it and called her name into the silence again. There wasn’t any moaning coming from her bedroom so he felt safe opening the door. She wasn’t in her bed, nor was she in her bathroom. He flicked the switch for some light but the light didn’t come on. The power must have gone out. Maybe she was staying with someone closer to town. They used to stay with her sister when he was younger and it snowed really hard like this.

Skwisgaar heard Toki sneeze in the other room and rushed back to him, feeling for a moment like an overly protective mother reacting to the faintest whimper from her infant. Toki was curled up in the chair, shivering, with his face squashed against the arm of the chair. “Hehhh-hehh…” He curled up tighter, his entire body shuddering. “HEHHKMF’SHUU!”

“Blesses you,” Skwisgaar said, stroking Toki’s hair out of his eyes. The Norwegian nudged his hand away with a sleepy sigh, curling back up again, but the residual heat from his forehead still tingled against Skwisgaar’s fingers. He was breathing slowly and uneasily, his breath crackling in his chest.

Frowning, Skwisgaar fumbled around in the darkness, trying to find some candles and matches. He returned to his mother’s room and discovered a few in her bedside table drawer. Lighting one, he checked the sparse medicine cabinet for something to help Toki but only found expired face creams and lubrication. With a shudder he slammed the door shut and gathered up the rest of the candles and matches before returning to the living room.

There didn’t seem to be tissues anywhere so Skwisgaar went into his old room, trying to fight back the flood of memories triggered by the stale but familiar smell. He dug through his old wardrobe and pulled out a couple of soft, hole-ridden shirts. As he continued searching for more wearable clothes for him and Toki to change into he paused, squinting into the darkness of his closet. His nostrils twitched and he dropped the shirt he was holding to press his hand against his nose, his eyes fluttering shut. “Hehh… ngKT!”

He barely got out a sigh before the next “HnnKSHT!” bent him double, and he waited, panting, his hands on his knees. “Hihh… ihh’hih’hehh… IhKNXSH!- ahh…”

He straightened back up with another sigh, combing his hair back from his face with his fingers. It was probably just dust... though dust didn’t explain why his face felt so warm.

Toki lifted his head weakly when Skwisgaar entered the room, blinking at him from behind a throw pillow. “Wheres you goes?” he asked hoarsely, eyeing the shirts Skwisgaar held with faint curiosity.

“To gets dis,” he said, holding up one of the shirts, “sos you cans blows your nose.”

He perched himself on the edge of the armchair. Even if there had been enough room for him and Toki to sit there he had an aversion to doing so simply because he knew about the things that happened in that chair. Toki attempted to struggle into an upright position but Skwisgaar pressed his shoulder gently, urging him to lie back down. “Stays… I’ll holds it.”

He didn’t protest, so Skwisgaar pressed the old shirt gingerly against his nose. Toki took a deep, ragged breath and blew, but all Skwisgaar could feel against his fingers was warm air. “Duttings cubs out,” Toki reported breathlessly, his eyes watering from the effort.

“Tries again.”

Toki took another deep breath but then paused, his brow furrowing slightly. Skwisgaar nudged the shirt against his nose but Toki batted at it weakly, his breath hitching softly. “Hehh… hih’hihh…”

Pushing Toki’s arm down and holding it still, Skwisgaar secured the shirt against his nose just as he bucked forward. “HhihhBFSHHH!”

He stroked the rhythm guitarist’s hair gently as he resumed his blank stare into space, taking stuffy little sniffles, his darkened eyes glazed over. When his face took on that mildly panicked look again Skwisgaar pinched the shirt gently around his nose, catching a second, wetter “HHNFFSHHHahh!” in the fabric.

Without waiting for Skwisgaar to prompt him he blew his nose into the shirt. It was only a soft, gurgling sound but nevertheless effective – the Swede could feel the wet warmth seeping through the fabric. “Goods,” he said encouragingly, then frowned as Toki succumbed to another coughing fit.

He rubbed his back gently before urging him to sit up a bit. “Come ons, lets gets to the beds.”

“I cadn’ts boves…”

“Sures you cans. I’ll helps you gets up.”

Skwisgaar stood up and eased his hands under Toki’s armpits, pulling him upright. Toki was listless, his head lolling to the side as if his neck was too weak to support it. Hugging his arms around his warm body, he pulled Toki off the chair and onto his feet. The rhythm guitarist stumbled a little and let out a startled cry, clinging desperately to Skwisgaar, who managed to not get dragged down with him but instead held him steady until he was certain that they would be able to handle the trek to his bedroom. They shuffled over, Toki’s feet skittering across the floor as if he were trying to walk across marbles as he tried to keep up with Skwisgaar’s pace. Once they were close enough to the bed he squirmed out of Skwisgaar’s hold and fell heavily onto the mattress, ducking his head between his shoulders. “IHKSHH! – K’TSCHH!”

“Thanks for waiting untils I puts you down to does dats,” Skwisgaar said, trying for a joke, but Toki merely stared at him, his gaze glassy and vacant.

Frowning, Skwisgaar touched his forehead again. Still hot. His gentle fingers continued to explore Toki’s face, then the back of his head, brushing over a sticky, matted section of hair that made his brow furrow with concern. Parts of his hair were still kind of frozen, but this felt different. Drawing his hand back hesitantly, he cringed at the sight of the rust color that had stained his fingertips.

“Oh fucks, Toki…”

“Whats?” he asked flatly, seeing the blood but not really reacting.

“I guess you… hits your heads whens you… fells off de horse.”

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if there was anything he could do. Toki shivered suddenly, violently, and Skwisgaar put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. His clothing was still damp, and that was something Skwisgaar could fix.

“Puts your hands up,” he instructed, and Toki did as he was told without argument.

Skwisgaar peeled his shirt off carefully, struggling a little to get it over Toki’s head. Toki helped, grabbing the shirt once his arms were free and pulling it over his face. The collar brushed his nose and he crinkled it, gasping reflexively at the faint stimulus. “Hehh!”

Sensing that another sneeze was coming, Skwisgaar tossed the damp shirt aside and grabbed for the drier one that had become their makeshift tissue. He pressed the crumpled cloth against Toki’s flaring nostrils and waited patiently, watching the muscles of his chest expand and relax rhythmically. “Hehh… hehh! Hehh’EFFSHHH! EHKFSHH!”

They were stronger than Skwisgaar had anticipated. The shirt fluttered against his wrist with each forceful burst of warm, wet air, and he pinched the fabric tighter against Toki’s flexing nostrils. “Mores?”

Toki gave a slight nod, then tensed up again. “Hh’ehkkt’SCHHHahh!”

He managed to contain this one better, and he gave Toki a rough but necessary wipe before depositing the shirt in the trashcan and sitting beside the other guitarist. Toki looked woozy, swaying a bit as if he had difficulty maintaining an upright position, but when Skwisgaar pulled his own shirt off he glanced over with a faint look of interest. Before the Swede was even aware of the attention he was getting Toki took him gently by the upper arm, looking into his eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to his. Skwisgaar mumbled a surprised “Mmnnd” against Toki’s mouth, allowing the kiss to continue for a few more seconds before pulling away slowly. “You needs to rest, Toki…”

“Pfft, rests. Fucks dat, I wants you.”

Skwisgaar could see where Toki’s hand was going and he intercepted it with his own, lifting it gently to press against his chest instead. “Toki… you ams sick. We ams lost. Dis… ain’ts really the best times, don’ts you think?”

Though he had to admit, it seemed like more of a good idea with each passing second. Toki pulled himself onto the bed completely, leaning against Skwisgaar and sliding his hand out from beneath his grasp. Skwisgaar could feel it reposition itself against his thigh as Toki nudged his forehead against his neck, his warm lips grazing against his collarbone. They hadn’t had sex in a week, or maybe even longer, because Toki wasn’t feeling well. And Skwisgaar was feeling seriously deprived.

Unfortunately Toki still wasn’t feeling well, as much as they were trying to pretend otherwise. He drew back abruptly, the hair that hung in his face hiding most of his expression, but Skwisgaar could tell from the way his breath was hitching that he had to sneeze again. “HehhIHKSHHH’ah! KSHHHHahh!”

He twisted sharply to the side, the bed bouncing from the force, and Skwisgaar reached out to grab his arms and steady him. “Hej… just lies down, okay?” Skwisgaar tilted his head, trying to decode Toki’s puzzling expression, but it was one he’d never seen before, and the hair that still hung in his face wasn’t helping much. “We gots times for dis laters… once we’re home…”

“But what if we—” Toki began weakly, breaking off abruptly to cough against his shoulder.

Skwisgaar stroked his back until he was finished. When Toki glanced back over at him his light blue eyes were filled with tears. “I'm sorry, I just... wanteds to try it... just once.”

"Tries what?"

Toki shook his head, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his chin against them. "Whats if... there isn't a laters...?”

Better with actions than words, Skwisgaar scooted over and wrapped his arms around the little shivering ball that Toki had formed himself into. He brushed his hair aside and pushed his lips against the warm, damp skin of his neck, a gesture that seemed to calm him a little. Toki eased into Skwisgaar’s hold, closing his eyes as he laid his head against his chest.

Soon his whimpers became soft snores, and Skwisgaar rocked him gently, watching the flickering flames of the candles until the last one burned out.

Edited July 10, 2012 by AnonyMouse

[Masking]

Poor boys.

I LOVE Toki's stuffy little sniffles. Dat guy ams so cutes! And here's hoping Skwisgaar's sneezes develop into a full-fledged Toki-esque cold.

[NameTaken]

Yesss. Beautiful update, particularly Long and sneezy. God they are adorable aghh. I've missed your lovely writings.

[Anonymouse]

Charles Ofdensen had a bad feeling.

He stood before the weather radar, one hand cupped thoughtfully against his chin as he studied the dark purple cloud that was blanketing most of Sweden.

Someone entered the room. Without turning around Charles spoke, his attention still focused on the pixels that traveled ominously across the screen like a swarm of killer bees. “Are they boys all accounted for?”

“Lords Skwigelf and Wartooth have not yet returned from town, my lord.”

The manager’s gaze shifted to the clock on the wall. Just a little past ten. He’d asked them to call to check in if they planned on staying out later than that, even though he knew very well they weren’t responsible enough to follow this one simple instruction. He checked his phone again, in case he had any missed calls, but there was, unsurprisingly, nothing.

“Have 7418 do a sweep of the town,” he said, typing in the code that would allow him access to the global positioning system’s satellite feed, something he would have checked hours ago, if not for this pressing weather issue.

The image on the screen changed slightly. It still showed a map of Sweden, but instead of the weather it displayed four blinking yellow lights. Three of them were huddled together just outside of Kiruna, which wasn't anything to be concerned about. Charles had seen to it himself that Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface’s horses were housed safely in the climate controlled stable, their GPS tracking devices still activated in case one of the band members decided to take an equine joyride.

For a moment the CFO seemed most concerned with the yellow light that was flickering dimly a few dozen miles outside of town. But that was before he realized there were only four lights.

This analysis only took a matter of seconds, and before the Klokateer behind him had a chance to even turn around to leave Charles stopped him with a sharp order. “Nevermind about 7418. Ready the Dethchopper.”

“But sir, the weather conditions—”

Charles Ofdensen was not a man who liked to repeat himself. A simple look accomplished what his words had failed to, and the Klokateer turned around without further protest and strode quickly out into the corridor.

Returning his gaze to the monitor, Charles counted the dots again, though he knew he wasn’t mistaken. Something had happened to Toki’s horse and Skwisgaar’s was out in the middle of nowhere. Unless the weather was messing with the satellite reception, then two of his boys were lost and this sick feeling in his stomach wasn’t just a coincidence.

He switched back to the weather feed and watched the storm progress until a Klokateer returned to inform him that the chopper was ready.

---

Skwisgaar awoke to a sudden, irrepressible urge to sneeze. He wasn’t even awake enough to make a conscious attempt to stifle, but his body did so automatically, out of habit, and he smothered the squelched result against a hastily raised fist.

“Hhhn’NNGtcshh!—uhh…”

Toki’s body, warm and heavy, was still sprawled across his lap. He murmured softly, turning to bury his face against Skwisgaar’s thigh, and the Swede drew in a deep breath and forced himself to hold it, his knuckles still pressed firmly against his nose.

He had excellent self-control, but he could only hold it back for so long before it came barreling out, louder and stronger than it would have been otherwise, so he quickly devised an escape plan. Slowly he eased one leg out from under Toki, then the other, placing his feet on the ground and letting the rhythm guitarist slide off his lap gradually. This resulted in a few semi-conscious protests, but Skwisgaar pushed a pillow into Toki’s reaching arms and he snuggled into it, relaxing again with a sleepy sigh. Skwisgaar waited for a few seconds to make sure Toki was still asleep before stepping carefully but quickly out of the room, his nostrils twitching urgently against his curled fingers.

He just made it through the doorway when his breath started hitching, rendering him temporarily immobile. “Hihh… hehhh… hh’IHH!—”

Tilting his head back, he drew in one final breath and then let it out almost immediately in a frustrated sigh. “Fucks,” he muttered, a chill running through his body.

There was no doubt about it – he was sick. He almost always sneezed in threes, but when he had a cold the last two had a tendency to tease and elude him for as long as possible. Not to mention his throat was sore, his face felt too warm, and he couldn’t stop shivering, though that could have had something to do with the fact that he was trapped in a house without heat in the middle of a blizzard.

Keeping his hand against his nose in case the sneezes snuck back up on him, he made his way over to the door and peered out the little frosted window. It was dark, but the land outside was illuminated in a ghostly glow from the full moon. All he could see for miles was white, and from what he could tell there was at least three feet of snow on the ground.

Taking care not to make too much noise, he pulled the door open, shuddering when the icy air caressed his skin. He shuffled outside, barefoot, and stood nearly knee-deep in the snow for a moment until his toes went numb. Something didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what. The wolves were gone – not that he’d expected them to stay – but standing alone out here he felt like the only person left in the world. It was unsettling.

More unsettling was the sudden thought that he wasn’t alone. Besides Toki, there was someone else out here in this desolate stretch of land. But who? Certainly not Charles, who would have announced his presence with the bright lights and the loud thunder of the helicopter. As if to reassure himself he glanced towards the sky, squinting at the bright white orb of the moon. The dormant prickle in his nose intensified when the reflected light of the sun hit his eyes, making him gasp. “Ihhh!”

Crinkling his nose, he put one hand on the side of his frozen house for balance and squashed the other against his trembling nostrils. “Hnn’gKNTSCHHH! Hehh… hehh-EH’IHSCHHHHoo!”

“Na zdravlje...”

Startled, he glanced up and saw Oda standing there like an apparition. If there wasn’t a trail in the snow leading from around the back of the house he would have been certain she’d appeared out of thin air. Baffled, all he could do was stare, convinced he was having some sort of hallucination.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself lost,” she said, suddenly close enough now to rest the palm of her hand against his face.

It felt oddly cold. Not the kind of cold skin should feel after having been exposed to the elements for God only knew how long. It was a lifeless kind of cold, a lack of temperature rather than a low one.

“H-how d-d-did you…” he began, his teeth chattering.

“Shh… it will all be over soon…”

She took his hands now and gave him a surprisingly strong tug. Something sharp, perhaps a fingernail, sunk into his numbed skin. He staggered forward a bit, nearly losing his footing in the snow.

It was then he heard the sound of glass breaking.

“Toki?!” he exclaimed, trying to pull out of Oda’s grasp, but she only held tighter, her expression shifting suddenly.

“Skwisgaar, don’t!” she pleaded, her voice filled with emotion. “It’s you they want.”

He had no idea what was going on. He could hear people inside the house now, upturning furniture, stomping from room to room, opening and slamming doors. Oda pulled him again, inhumanly strong, then gave him a strategic shove. This time he did fall, sinking back into the snow. He felt her fingers unthread from his as all of the light disappeared from his world, obscured by an avalanche of snow.

The last thing he heard before slipping out of consciousness was Toki screaming his name.

Edited November 3, 2012 by AnonyMouse

[Anonymouse]

Special thanks to Sitruuna for assisting me with some Swedish translation! Kept this chapter short because there’s no sneezing, but it’s crucial to the overall plot, plus I didn’t want this story to die a lonely, painful death.

---

The voices above him sounded garbled, as if his head were stuck in a fishbowl. The effect was magnified when he cracked his eyes open and saw blurred, distorted figures hovering around him, faceless but definitely human. He tried to make a sound but he was having a hard enough time just breathing, his airways seemingly constricted to the width of a straw. When he tried to move his fingers there was a sharp pain in his joints and a cracking sound, like the sound an icicle makes when it is snapped off from under a window ledge.

It was dark but there were flickering lights, panicked voices. He was aware of the fact that he was lying on his back on the ground, and he braced himself for the possibility of receiving a boot to the abdomen, but he sensed that someone knew he was down there and was protecting him. “I’ve got you, Skwisgaar,” came the calm, reassuring voice of his manager, and he felt himself getting lifted up by what he could only assume was a pair of arms, though his body was numb to all physical contact.

When he blinked he could see snow clinging to his eyelashes like crystal mascara. His sealed lips parted painfully and his voice shuddered out of him, weak and whispered. “T-t-to— T-toki…”

In the back of his delirious mind he noted that he kind of sounded like Dr. Rockso. His numb, blue lips formed a smile and Charles frowned at him, disconcerted, before handing him off to a pair of Klokateers in medical garb. “Take him back at once,” he ordered, but when the Dokateers attempted to secure the guitarist onto the prepared stretcher he went berserk.

“N-nos! Toki! They gots Toki! Dra åt helvete!” He thrashed in the Klokateers’ hold, elbowing one in the face and sending him reeling away with a broken nose. The larger one managed to restrain him, but Skwisgaar continued to struggle valiantly, like a freshly caught fish at the end of a line. “Släpp mig, din skitstövel!”

The Klokateers were so used to abiding by their masters’ commands without question that he released Skwisgaar almost instantly. He rushed towards the house like a blond tornado and Charles intercepted him, nearly knocking the both of them to the ground in the process. “He’s not in there,” Charles assured him firmly, though his voice was still too calm for Skwisgaar's liking.

“Ja, because they takes him!”

Even though the guitarist was starting to sound more and more like a raving conspiracy theorist, Charles believed there was some truth to what he was saying. He set his hands carefully on each of Skwisgaar's frozen arms and asked in a steady but almost desperate tone “Who took him, Skwisgaar?”

The Swede slumped, suddenly crestfallen. Both of the medical Klokateers, one still cupping his broken nose in his gloved hand, assisted Charles in keeping him upright, though he was light enough that the manager could have probably handled it on his own. “I don’ts… I don’ts knows…” he said, his voice wavering as he looked at the dark house with glistening eyes.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Charles explained in a soft, even voice that made Skwisgaar feel a little manic, “or your fingers may very well fall off. If you didn’t see anything, there’s nothing you can do right now. We have thirty-four guys checking the perimeter of the property. We’ll find Toki.”

His reassurance had a sedating effect on Skwisgaar. He relaxed in the arms of the Dokateers and walked with them, shakily but cooperatively, to the stretcher. Once he was lying down the small, red dot on Skwisgaar’s wrist caught the attention of the head medic, who ran his gloved fingers gently over the mark. This seemed to trigger something in Skwisgaar, who sat up suddenly despite the pain that shot through his limbs at the sudden movement. “Charles.”

The manager had his phone against his ear, but he covered it with his hand and glanced back at Skwisgaar, eyebrows raised.

“Oda,” the Swede said, lying back down in the stretcher and closing his eyes. “Oda Ivkovic… she was heres…”

The Klokateers exchanged confused looks with Charles, who merely waved at them to get Skwisgaar into the helicopter as he returned to his phone call, chalking the guitarist’s comment up to shock.

After all, Oda Ivkovic was dead.

Edited November 4, 2012 by AnonyMouse