In traumatic situations, doctors were supposed to provide
delicate care so as not to trigger raw emotions. But when Daniel Mercer
thrashed around in his hospital bed punching and kicking anything that moved,
he had to be held down by the toughest of the tough. Three different nurses
held his left arm. Two doctors held his right arm. One of the bigger nurses
laid across his shins.
The Lord of the Pit roared and screamed his head off with
his most demonic voice, but the medical staff’s pressure on his limbs increased
even more. He got so cantankerous that they had to strap him in bed with
leather buckles. Even in bondage his head bounced off the pillow as he howled
like a wounded animal.
All it took was one jab in the arm and a press of the
plunger. Daniel felt coldness running through his veins to sooth his burning
anger. The volume of his possessed screams got lower as his breathing
intensified. His eyelids became heavier than dumbbells. His clenched jaw
relaxed to where his tongue was hanging out like a dog. While he wasn’t
completely knocked out, he was drowsy enough that the doctors and nurses could
wipe the sweat off their foreheads and breathe sighs of relief.
“I’ll take it from here, guys. Thank you very much,” said a
familiar male voice. The medical staff huffed and heaved their way out of the
semi-private room after such an exhausting struggle. Even with blurry vision
and a relaxed mind, Daniel could make out the cue ball head of Detective Shawn
Henry, the man who brought him to this hospital in the first place.
As the delirious snoozer tried to form words, Detective
Henry placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to signify that he’ll be the one who
does the talking. “You’re in a safe place now, Daniel. You were a pain in the
ass to get here, but that just goes to show how much of a fighter you really
are. I can only imagine what kind of pain you were in when Roger Zee tortured
you. It’s one thing to use musical torture on somebody else. But to a man who
built his entire life around that genre of music…it’s unacceptable. It’s like A
Clockwork Orange for the good guys.”
Daniel once again tried to form a coherent sentence, but he
ended up sounding like a drunken stroke victim. He seemed to get Shawn’s
message with little nods here and there.
The detective placed a hand on Daniel’s knee and said, “You
may not realize it right now, but we need you now more than ever. Roger Zee has
the entire police force under his control. I should have never let him get to
those computers. Even so, there’s still a chance we can put him away once and
for all. I have a pretty good idea of where he’s taking his newfound forces.”
“…Lay-len…Lay-len!” said Daniel with a swollen tongue.
“Yes, Daniel, you’ve mentioned this Raven girl to me before.
Is she your girlfriend?” asked Shawn, to which the Lord of the Pit flashed a
retarded grin. The detective flashed a small grin himself and said, “Whoever
she is, we’ll find her before Roger can hurt her. I know it seems like we’re
wasting time in this hospital, but trust me, you’re in no condition to be
chasing bad guys right now. You might be better in the morning, depending on
just how long you spent at that black site. Either way, you’re the only one who
can stop this madman. With that microphone of yours, you might even be able to
talk some sense into my colleagues.”
Daniel shook his head and allowed his tongue to dangle from
side to side like a pendulum of spittle. His attempts at “Uh-uh” grew stronger
the more he realized what he was being asked to do.
“I know you don’t think much of your music right now. I know
you think that you can’t do this without your band mates. But like it or not,
you’re a huge part of this puzzle. While you’re not even close to being the one
to blame for Roger’s violence, he’s taking a huge interest in your vocation,
not to mention everything your music stands for.”
Shawn leaned in closer with this next sentence. “You are the
creative force behind every music group you’ve been a part of. Even with
traumatic nightmares, you’re one of the most imaginative people I’ve ever
known. That scares Roger. He doesn’t like creativity. He shuns individuality.
He wants this world to be just as boring and dull as him. You can’t let that
happen. You’ve got to put a line through that.”
Daniel made a whiny groan in his throat while slamming his
head on the pillow in disbelief. Shawn patted his knee and said, “I know we’re
asking a lot of you. But this is a responsibility you were custom built for, my
friend. Don’t think of these civilians as mere strangers. Think of them as audience
members. They’re gathering around you so that you can put on a show for them.
Not just any show, but one that will fill them with positive memories. Memories
that will make them want to come back for more. Even with your most violent
lyrics, you inspire an entire generation of listeners to face the hardest parts
of life.”
The Lord of the Pit had a flat tire hiss and shook his head.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Shawn knew he had to pull out the big guns to get
this reluctant hero’s attention. He reached in his pocket and pulled out
something that made Daniel’s eyes light up like Las Vegas.
“You see this, Mr. Mercer? This right here is the very first
Demon Axe album. I bought it after the two of us met for the very first time. I
admit, it was a god-awful interview at your house, but if it wasn’t for that, I
would have never known about your music. I have to say, this is a pretty
goddamn good album. I don’t claim to be the biggest metal head on planet earth,
but even I think this is pretty fucking good. You and your band mates put a lot
of hard work into every song on this CD. Your band mates gave you their lives,
now it’s time to finish the job.”
Tears rolled down Daniel’s cheeks as he made little
whimpering noises through his nose. Shawn grabbed a paper towel from the
counter and wiped them away ever so delicately. He said, “I can tell you’re
still not convinced. You somehow have it in you that you let everyone down by
allowing yourself to be tortured. You didn’t let anyone down, Daniel. Some
things in life are beyond our control. But this road that lies ahead of you,
this road to recovery, it begins and ends with putting Roger Zee in his grave.
To help you along the way, I brought another surprise for you.”
Shawn motioned toward the doorway and two nurses wheeled a
gigantic radio into the room. The detective pulled out yet another CD, though
Daniel’s eyes widened when he couldn’t tell what the album was. The Lord of the
Pit made loud whining noises in anticipation of more torture. He thrashed around
in his straps, but no amount of white hot rage could set him free.
The gentle piano music, on the other hand, could, at least
psychologically. The pianist’s fingers danced lightly and gracefully across the
keys, especially near the lower octaves to provide the sweetest lullaby to a
pain-wracked Daniel. The whining and whimpering was reduced to silent drooling
and a spaced-out look in his eyes. With his hands at his lap, he performed the
one technique that got him through the death of his Demon Axe brethren. He
tapped his left leg, then his right, then his left, then his right, almost in
perfect harmony with the tranquilizing piano music.
“Lay-len…Lay-len…Lay-len…”
Shawn smiled at Daniel and said, “Raven was the one who
taught you that technique. That’s called EMDR. I’d definitely say she’s a
keeper, my friend. If you don’t do this for anybody else, do this for her.
She’s depending on you.”
Daniel formed another stupid-looking grin on his face while
his eyes danced in different directions. Shawn covered his own face as he
noticed a sizable lump growing in Daniel’s shorts. The detective jokingly said,
“Too much information, buddy! Too much information!”
The Lord of the Pit chuckled in his moment of
quasi-embarrassment and kept tapping his thighs until his eyelids closed for
the final time of the night. Daniel’s face fell to the side of his pillow and
he ended his evening with a combination of frothing drool and lawnmower snores.
Shawn smiled again and shook his head. Meanwhile, one of the
nurses produced Daniel’s magical microphone and asked, “Where do you want me to
leave this?”
The detective took it and said, “I’ve got a nice place for
it when he’s ready to wake up.” Confident that the singer was lost in
dreamland, Shawn placed the microphone handle in Daniel’s hand and closed his
fingers around it. The cop was careful not to allow the mouthpiece near his
drooling sewer hole, but it was right there when he needed it. Even in his
subconscious’s theater, Daniel Mercer had a decision to make: run away and never
turn back or fight like the warrior he was always meant to be.
