Storm of Evil

HELLFIRE

HELLFIRE

[Five months ago]

Soon as I walked into that shop, I knew I was home. The unkempt structure and fractured walls, decorated with dark posters and propaganda; the collections of experimental albums by local artists recorded in the very shop itself.

It was like I finally knew what I wanted to do with myself; I knew who I wanted to be. I'd found my group of people. I'd found people I wanted to be around. Dressed in black with a warped perspective on the music they released; I finally thought I'd found the place I wanted to live out a lot of my life around -

Helvete.

I entered almost cautiously. There was a guy sitting on a beaten chair, feet propped up on the counter as he sat behind it reading a comic. Oh my god did I know him...

He had long lightish brown hair and was dressed in black jeans with black buckled boots that came just over half way up his shins, and a loose black shirt with 'Bathory' on the front.

He glanced at me, moving the comic slightly, and raised an eyebrow. Putting it down, he sat up straight in the chair and let out a breath.

"Can I help you?" He asked. I shrugged.

"Dunno, can you?"

"Guess that depends what you want, but we probably can't help," he smiled meaninglessly before leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up again to read the comic.

"Grishnackh, it's me,"" I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. Listening to weird friends ramble crap is honestly very important, especially for situations like this.

I only knew about his appearance recently from desciption. It had been a while.

He lowered his comic again, this time not changing his seated position. His eyebrows knitted together slightly - not much, but very slightly...or was that just how his face was?

"Me who?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"Hellfire." I replied, finally capturing his attention. He sat up straight again, placing his hands on the counter.

"Hellfire! It's you!" he exclaimed with a huge, optimistic grin. I opened my eyes wide and mirrored his expression and tone.

"Oh my god, it's me!!"

"You're back!"

"Yes I'm back!"

"And you're uglier than ever!"

"You mean sexy," I corrected puckering my lips slightly.

"Oh my bad Mr Sexy. Nice hair."

"Learnt from the best," I winked. Last time I saw Varg, aka Count Grishnackh, was a while ago and my hair wasn't nearly as long. Now, we looked basically the same, or very similar.

"My god it's been a while now, hasn't it..." he mused with a grin as one arm propped itself on the other; one across his stomach, the other with his hands stroking the slight facial hair on his chin. "So what brings you back?"

"Euronymous has a shop, is that not enough to bring me back?"

"Fair enough," he shrugged.

"And also, I heard you guys did recording and shit, I kinda want in," I muttered at the end just loud enough so he could hear me. He let out a laugh.

"Ha! I knew it," he exclaimed, now slamming his hand on the table, kinda frightening me with his sudden, loud action.

"Woah shit, calm down," I said, eyebrows raising, "D'ya think he'd let me?" I asked in seriousness. Varg just shrugged.

"Dunno, if he decides he likes you," he answered matter of factly. I nodded, but that was so vague it wasn't even helpful. "Tell ya what, I'll put in a good word for ya'."

"Thanks," I smiled back. Clearing my throat after a small silence, I built up the confidence to ask what I really came here to ask. I mean, the recording was only one part of it; realistically...I needed their help as well...

"Can I ask you, something serious?" I asked cautiously. He eyed me, his lids squinting a little before his bottom lip poke out and he nodded. My nerves were a little anxious.

"Sure, fire away," he replied easily.

"Well, I may have gotten into a spot of trouble back at Bergen...and I may need just a morsel of assistance," I carefully worded. Grishnackh stared at me, his eyebrows slowly knitting closer together.

"Mm, what kinda' 'spot of trouble' we talking about here?" he inquired skeptically.

"Just need a bit of convincing of police," I replied.

"Oh dear, what have you done?" Varg sighed, slumping comfortably in the chair. I shrugged back.

"I set a couple cars on fire. I just need someone to vouch for me and say I was already here when it was lit up. And they have to be really, really convincing," I breathed out, anxiety at some kind of rising bar. If Varg didn't help, than I was honestly lost.

He looked at me with a smile as if to say "fear not, I have a marvelous idea". I hoped he did, otherwise it was off to jail.

"Oh, Hellfire, still the raging pyromaniac," he chuckled slightly, shaking his head. I smiled a small smile and nodded. Hence how I got the name 'Hellfire'... "But sure, I can vouch for ya', no worries."

"Thanks man, you have no idea," I replied, letting out a relieved breath.

"Ehh, I'm pretty sure I do," he replied with a look of deep thought as he stared at nothing in particular. "Not long ago Euronymous and I were blamed for setting up a carcass display in front of the library."

"Wait, the two sheep?"

"Ya."

"So...that wasn't you?" I asked with slight disbelief. I honestly thought it was him.

"What do you think I am, completely pathetic?" he asked with a sarcastic tone amd smile, "Nah, I had pubs to conquer, drinks to drink. The bloody sheep were a waste of time, really."

"So how'd you get out of that?" I asked curiously.

"Girl who worked at the pub that night happened to pass and got us out. Thank God, because otherwise we'd be done for."

My eye widened and I nodded. Not bad. Not bad luck at all...

"Tell you what," he continued, "Mister Hellfire, the man with the obsession for flames - is this going to happen often?" he asked with a slight smirk. He just seemed to know.

I hesitated, attempting to say no, but I knew it would happen all too often. I can't actually seem to help myself.

"Ahhhh...well I just...I can't ever quite seem to stop. You know me too well Grishnackh," I replied.

"I don't know you at all, but I know that. What you need is someone to be a constant alibi mate," he said, almost suggestively, raising his eyebrows. Um. Varg...?

"Uh, okay?" I replied awkwardly.

"Not me ya' daft lunatic, someone else!" he exclaimed, chuckling with a wide grin.

"Oh...Kay. Go on," I urged. He continued to smile widely, but spoke with a serious tone.

"The chick that got Øystein and I out, she isn't very involved with us, but I trust her. She's a very good ally to have onside; very good with words. If you want coverage, I suggest you get close with her."

"Count Grishnackh, are you suggesting I use this girl for protection?" I asked with mock horror. He chuckled a little.

"Not quite but still. She's surprisingly very good at this," he explained. "She works at På Tykk." He spoke about her with such high respect, as if she were someone to be worshipped and taken care of. Considering she works in a bar, I guess I'll find out.

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Emilie."

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