Slash, death, violence, drug/alcohol usage.


Nope, don't own any characters, just the plot.


This story is mean to take place after an attack on the Mordhaus
by the government, who, as well know from the show, hates Dethklok.
This one attack spawned millions of others, and soon the world was in shambles.
Keep in mind that because of this there is no running water, electricity, or any
modern conveniences.

Reviews are love.


When did the voices
so diseased and angry
and whose strength do they use
to carry us to such unfamiliar places

They can pull triggers
they can throw us off rooftops
they can split us into uneven halves
whose strength do they use

~~Madness And A Bit Of Hope, by Safiya Henderson-Holmes


It began with a mass of fire and ash. They were violent, merciless assassins that had come in the dead of night to take away everything, and that's just what they had done. Nobody had been ready, nobody had been able to withstand their hatred, and so the Mordhaus fell to the madness of murder. The rest of the world followed, and each country sank down and died slowly and painfully, killed each other off in an insane display of nuclear bombs and bullets. Cities—Rome, London, Tokyo, Washington and all the rest—were reduced to nothing and the world was left to disappear under a blood-red sky. Everyone suffered, but somehow there were a few survivors. Toki was one of them.

Together he and Nathan had managed to pull back what little remained of their old rich lives and salvage their sanity—or what was left of it. Day was nothing but a long, miserable Hell, seeming to last ten lifetimes of misery. The night was terrifying—a gunshot in the dark or a cruel trick of the mind?-but somehow they managed to keep one another alive. Now they sat in what remained of the old living room of the Mordhaus, staring at a dead-asleep Pickles. "Ams he going to wake up today?" Toki asked, a deep frown on his face. "You said he was just sleepings; how long can he sleeps for?"

Nathan turned way from the hopeful Norwegian and said, "I already told you that he might not wake up."

"Oh." he looked down, a discouraged look on his face. "Whys not?"

He let out a slightly annoyed sigh; of course he ended up explaining this to the guitarist every day, but still he took Pickles' hand, sang to him, prayed in Norwegian, and told him stories, hoping that he would wake up again and be the same. The only problem with this was that nothing was the same. "He's in a coma."


"You know damn well why. I've explained it to you a hundred times."

Toki's pale eyes filled with tears as he stared at Pickles' ashen, emotionless face. Where had the life in him gone? "I miss hims."

"I know."

"And I miss Skwisgaar, Murderface, and Ofdensens..."

Nathan nodded. "I know, I do too."

The Norwegian laid his head next to the drummer's and closed his eyes. He remembered the night so many weeks ago when the Mordhaus had been attacked. They had all been sleeping. He had been hugging his deddy bear to him when Skwisgaar had burst into his room and cried, "Tokis, gets up quick!"


"There ammnest peoples with guns shootings everything up!"

He couldn't move, couldn't think. Instead he just asked in a hoarse, fearful voice, "Whats?"

Skwisgaar lead him over to his bedroom window and let him look outside at the devastation; hundreds of Klokateers were shooting and getting shot. Toki's face paled as he was lead out of the room by the Swede...somehow thru it all they'd been separated and Pickles had been shot and now...Toki didn't know. He stood, hovering over the bed where Pickles rested. "I wish he would wakes up, I really dos."

Nathan reached for his hand, but then drew back. "I...maybe we should just leave him alone for a little whi-"

"Leaves him?" The guitarist shook his head and knelt next to where the drummer lay. "Nevers. We should never leaves each other agains, Nathans." he paused before inquiring, "What if he doesn't wakes up again?"

The singer shrugged and answered, "Just...Toki, he's been asleep for a while, and all you do is talk to him and-"

"Because it helps him!"

"No it doesn't!" he said. "It just makes everything harder!"

He shrank back, took the drummer's hand, and watched him breathe. In and out, in and out. A steady heartbeat, no signs of death, only an eternal sleep. Toki bit his lower lip in thought and finally said, "But he looks stills alive."

"He's not." Nathan carefully placed a hand on the guitarist's shoulder. "He might not come back."

"But he ams right here!" Toki said, tears rolling down his face in slow and steady streams. "How can he 'comes back' when he ams stills here?" and he let out a sob and hissed, his voice so full of frustration, "It doesn't makes any sense!"

"Toki, he's-"

"And why can't yous just admit that you cares abouts him?" the Norwegian continued, his breath coming out in short, rasping gasps from his constant crying. "Why ams you still so worried abouts being brutal? We're all each other has and you act like you don'ts care!"

Nathan looked down and murmured, "I do care."

"Then why don't you ever shows it?"

"I...I..." he didn't know what to say, so he just walked towards the door and said in his deep voice, "Keep him company." and left, just like that.

Once he had gone, Toki turned his attention back to Pickles and squeezed his hand. "Nathan doesn't knows anything. You ams going to wakes up; I knows you will, because-" his voice broke as he whispered in the drummer's ear, "-because you can'ts leave me, nots now. I needs you, Pickle. Please comes back, please. Don't gives up, please wakes up."


Burning, coked by smoke and blinded by ash and corpses. The dead littered the ground as he lead Toki and Skwisgaar out of the burning Mordhaus. He was holding Toki's left hand and the Swede was clutching his right, both of them desperately trying to keep the weeping, coughing Norwegian close. "Skwisgaar!" Pickles shouted above the maddening sounds of the fights and fire around them. "We can't stay together no more! They'll catch us!"

"What dos we do?" he asked, hugging Toki to him protectively.

"We gatta let Toki go aff on his own."


"He'll have more of a chance." he insisted. Skwisgaar wiped some soot from his forehead and patted the other guitarist's shoulder in an effort to get his attention.

"Tokis, listens to me—you haves to run nows, okay? Runs as far as you can and don't look back, alright?"

He shook his head, his pale eyes wide and shining in the firelight that the smoldering house gave off. "N-Nos, I can't leaves you."

"It ain't safe no more, dude!" Pickles told him. "It's better for you t'just run ahead without us."

"I cant's!"

"Toki, you haves to. Please," Skwisgaar said, hugging the Norwegian one last time. "dos it for me?"

He glanced from one man to the other and finally nodded. "Fines. I-"

"Go!" Pickles urged, pushing the guitarist away. Toki turned and made a mad dash for the forest that surrounded the Mordhaus, but before he could reach the safety of the treeline, a loud shot rang out. Although gunfire was filling the night air all around them, this shot somehow stood out above the rest. It echoed, was loud and ear-piercing. For one fearful moment Pickles thought that Toki had been shot until he felt something warm and sticky hit his cheek. When he looked over, he saw that Skwisgaar was laying on the ground, a pained and astonished look on his pale face. "P-Pickle..." he blinked and a little blood ran from between his lips. "I thinks I gots shot..."

The drummer wiped the other man's blood from his own cheek then knelt down next to the Swede. He shook his head in denial; this was impossible, a dream. This couldn't be real. What had happened to their old, carefree life? Just yesterday hadn't they been down in the studio, laughing and making fun of each other in between recording songs? "Dude, you're-"

Skwisgaar fully understood the reality of the situation, because in a moment he was holding Pickles' hand, whispering in Swedish, and crying. "I don't wants to die," he whimpered. "Why ammnest this happenings?"

The drummer couldn't answer this, but he knew that he had to, so he responded with, "I...I don't know, dude..."

The Swede closed his eyes and breathed raggedly, "It wasn't supposed to bes this ways...we were all supposed to makes it and be okays..."

"We all are gonna-"



"Toki—takes care of him. Dos that for me, okays?"

He nodded and squeezed Skwisgaar's hand a little tighter. "Of course I will, dude. You know I love that kid."

"He ammnest like my brother."

"I know."

And the Swede smiled, his lips and teeth dyed red with his own blood. "I loves him...makes sure he ams okays. He won't understand..."

"He'll be fine; everything will be-" behind him there was the sound more gunfire and screaming. "-alright."

"H-Hows?" Skwisgaar wondered, casting his dying, deep blue gaze up at at the starry, red night sky above them. A bloody smile came across his face—he closed his eyes and whispered in an oddly peaceful way, "Hows did this happens?"

And the scene melted away as the Swede's body became limp, lifeless, and cold. There was a new voice now, one that was wretched with its whispered pleas of desperation. "Pickle? You haves to wakes up, you haves to! Please, please wakes up now."

Move, move!

He couldn't feel any part of himself, but the sound of that voice almost brought him back, if only for a moment. Toki? Yes, it was him, and Pickles remembered that night again, how he had heard another shot and felt the ripping pain of a searing hot bullet...he remembered the way it had felt to lose his blood, to watch the precious, life-giving liquid freely flowing out of him...had he died? No, but he wasn't alive, so where was he? Teetering on the edge of some unknown place between life and death?

Move, move!


Words were good too, he supposed, but he so longed to move, to rip himself out of this zombie-state of being. Then it came—he opened his eyes for a split second. Yes, he thought, I'm okay! I'm alive, I'm-

Dead again. Still he couldn't move and once again he was asleep. Toki saw this feeble display of life, though, because in a moment he was sobbing and kissing Pickles' cheek, saying prayers in his native tongue. "Han er i live! Gud, vennligst gjør ham våkne opp nå!" Then in English, "Pickle, I saws it, I know you ams alive! Please wakes up now!"

I can't...


God, I wish I could!

It was amazing, but in that split fraction of a second that his eyes had been open, Pickles had seen Toki's face; there was a small, half-healed cut along his cheek now, but other than that he was just as alive and childlike as ever. The dream, it really happened? But that means that they're dead, everyone's dead...and I promised Skwisgaar that I'd keep Toki safe...they're all gone...and nothing is the same.


"Hey, I brought you something to eat." Nathan announced as he entered the room. Toki glanced over at him and arched a brow.

"What ams it?"

"Canned stuff." he answered, throwing him a can. The label had been ripped off, but the guitarist didn't care; he ripped the can open and devoured its contents quickly.

"That ams all we haves left?"

"It's all we can afford to eat right now." he said, taking a seat next to Toki. The Norwegian was sitting cross-legged next to the still sleeping drummer. Nathan stared down into Pickles' face and murmured sadly, "Toki, I've been thinking..."

"Nos." he said immediately.

"No what? I didn't even tell you yet."

"We ams not going to leaves him alone to die."

Nathan shook his head and insisted, "You just don't get it, do you? He's-"

"I saw hims open his eyes today!"

"It was your imagination." he turned away and added warily, "You've been spending too much time crying over him. It's time to move on."

"I ams never going to forget abouts him." Toki stated, glaring at the singer hatefully. "I ams nots like you—I care abouts people!"

"I care!"

"Likes hell you do!"

He sighed in defeat and wrapped an arm around Toki's waist. He pulled him closer, into an awkward hug. "I care about you and I can't watch you waste any more tears over him; I'll lock you out of this room if I have to, I don't care."

"I hates you!" he cried, trying to end the hug. "I hates you, I-"


Both men let their expressions of anger wash away from their faces and turned their attention to Pickles. He was moving now, flexing and unflexing his fingers. As soon as Toki saw this, he let out a joyful cry and went over to him. "Wakes up, Pickle, please! Proves Nathan wrong, ple-"

"T-Toki?" Pickles muttered weakly. The Norwegian fell into his arms and began to laugh.

"Look, Nathans, he ams awake!"

"Y-Yeah." he said, a shocked look on his face.

"I was right, I knews it." and he hugged the drummer tighter and began to weep.

Pickles just tried to adjust his eyes to the new, painful light. He felt Toki's crushing weight against him and loved it. Finally he was home again. Slowly he summoned up what little strength he had in him, loosely put an arm around the guitarist, and pulled him closer. "Hey, dude. You missed me?" he could only nod. Pickles let a grin come across his face as he whispered in Toki's ear, "I missed you so damn much." then he cast his glance over to Nathan. "Doin' good?"

"Could be better."

The drummer let out a weak laugh and nodded. "Yeah, me too." his green eyes looked around the old living room, observed the destruction and the state of disrepair that the room was in, and the smile gradually faded from his face. "I guess we could all be doin' better."



The way I look at it, I could either get fairly good reviews on this story, or horrible ones—probably horrible ones considering the subject matter. Oh well. I've already typed up 5 chapters [this story's going to be an flowerchild-standard 6 parter] so yeah...hope you like it and enjoyed this chapter, cause there's more to come. Yes, in case you really, really can't believe it, Skwisgaar and Ofdensen are both dead; currently Murderface isn't confirmed to be dead, only missing...but still maybe dead. Ah, the suspense and plot twists to come! :P

Peace & Love