Metalocalypse: Impending Doom

Chapter Ten: "Falling Apart"

72 hours left...

"What the FUCK happened?! I swear to God I'll stab every one of you mother fuckers!" Nathalia was screaming at the majority of the Dethklok band and some of her own. They were all standing in the living-room, their faces either surprised or scared of the enraged singer.

Charles was the only one who kept himself composed as he held his hand up toward Nathalia. "Listen, Salem is fine. They're recovering in their bed right now, but they won't be able to work on anything for a while."

"I don't fucking understand, how they could fucking DRINK THAT MUCH?!" Nathalia threw one of the small stands, watching it clunk harmlessly against the wall with dissatisfaction. "Fuck!" She turned to eye Pickles angrily, who looked guilty, his head low and his hands shoved in his pocket. "You better have an answer for me, motherfucker!"

"I- I don't know," Pickles stuttered honestly, looking sheepish. "I really don't... I'm sorry."

"Damn right you are, you fuck! You crippled my drummer! What about the album?!"

"Nathalia." The fuming singer snapped her head around to glare daggers into Abigail's head, who wasn't phased in any way, as usual. "We checked the security cameras, Pickles drank about half of the pile from the living-room, and they were all unopened. Yet his B.A.C was proven to be almost zero, several times. We really don't understand how it happened or even what happened, but whatever it was, it wasn't Pickles's fault."

Nathalia growled; she hated being told to not be mad at the person she wanted to blame. But she had no argument against it, so she threw a vase this time, watching as it smashed into small pieces. "Whatever. I wanna go see them."

"Nath-"

"I want to see my midget!" She shouted, and the small group of people that had surrounded them slowly stepped back and created a clearing for her to walk through. Both Charles and Abigail led Nathalia briskly away from everyone and down the hall where Salem's room was.

Nathalia's head was reeling with questions as she followed them. She didn't understand how Salem's alcohol levels could get that bad, but she knew one thing. After having had the conversation with them about their drug use, and then them almost dying by alcohol, something had to be done before Salem killed themselves accidentally... or 'accidentally'. Nathalia scoffed in her head. Only I'm allowed to be suicidal, she thought sarcastically to herself.

Nathalia still remembered the first time her eyes fell on the small, dirty human and assumed them to be a small child lost on the streets. After asking them if they were lost and if they needed an adult, they laughed and said they were... what age had they been, eighteen? Nineteen? Either way, an embarrassing moment for both which eventually turned into a huge inside joke to them since Salem was still the same tiny person as before.

They'd been friends for almost nine years now. Tobias, who had already been friends with Nathalia for a few years beforehand, warmed up to Salem as well and eventually all three were able to get their own place when Salem landed a job and became good friends with their boss, who had a small shack of a house to rent out.

Their nights were filled with late night talks, dirty humor, and their dreams. Oh, and of course booze. Salem had always found a way to get some and Nathalia suspected that they stole it from someone or a place because surely they couldn't get it from their boss, but when Tobias asked, Salem would just smile and put their lips to a bottle. Eventually, he stopped asking.

Salem and Nathalia opened up to each other quickly, though mostly through Nathalia's prodding and Nathalia's also willingness to air out her dirty laundry in an eager attempt at validation. Still, there were a few things Salem never opened up about in great detail. That didn't mean she didn't know about those certain things, just that she didn't know the full story. She wondered how anybody could exist and just not explain things that would be eating people alive, but she didn't pester... too much.