Demon Axe, Epilogue

Every night since Demon Axe’s final concert, all Daniel Mercer could see was the same creature chasing him down the Holy Mountains. His assailant’s face was dripping with blood that was lapped up with a lizard tongue. The creature’s wings were metallic with blade tips at the end of every feather. His fingers were spikes wrapped in barbed wire.

Despite having all of these weapons at his disposal, the creature always carried a bloodstained machete, a weapon that has claimed thousands of lives and traumatized even more. This blade did more damage than any nuclear bomb ever could. In the face of such a brutal tool of destruction, all Daniel could do was run as fast as he could while struggling for fresh oxygen. He tasted his own blood each time he gasped for air. His ribs crackled and popped like he was running on bubble wrap. His anus burned from sodomy and was a constant source of yuk-yuk humor for the blade-wielding beast.

One night, Daniel couldn’t run anymore. He tripped over his own exhausted legs and laid on the gravely ground heaving and spitting up blood. He was ready for death to take him away to a far better place. This version of hell was more painful to him than the pyrocosm certain religions imagined. “Take me now,” begged Daniel. “Kill me, damn it!”

The creature slowly and mockingly stalked its prey with the machete raised high in the air. One slash would be all it took to send Daniel to a more peaceful backdrop. One painful slash that would last all but a few seconds before eternal darkness swallowed Daniel’s vision. And then the creature tossed its weapon to the side while ripping away at its face, sending bloody chunks every which way and making the Holy Mountains more hellish than they needed to be.

Underneath all of that rancid horror was the loveliest, most beautiful face Daniel had ever seen. Long black hair, cherry-colored lips, creamy green skin, and radiant eyes that only an angel could possess. It was the pointed ears that gave this woman away, however. Not even the blindest of the blind could mistake those quirky ears. And that voice…”Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in there?”

A flood of white light brushed across Daniel’s field of vision and the scene changed from diabolic torment to waking up in a hospital bed. The Demon Axe leader screamed as he sat up in his bed, but breathed more calmly once he realized where he was. The room was dark, but he could still see the rows of flowers left behind during his time of slumber. He lifted up his hospital gown and saw a nasty-looking surgical scar across his torso. With a delicate touch, he felt his ribcage and noticed there were metal plates and screws where his bones used to be. Breathing heavily didn’t hurt as much then as it did when Roger broke his ribs.

Daniel plopped backward in his bed and breathed continual sighs of relief. The nightmare was over. The trauma would last longer once the initial relief wore off, but for this moment, he truly felt safe and relaxed.

There was a gentle knock on the door before Raven let herself in. Instead of wearing her battle outfit, she was dressed in royal red robes adorned with runic symbols and an emerald-encrusted crown atop her head. Daniel had naughty thoughts about his girlfriend’s new look, but tried not to get too hung up on it given the circumstances. Raven whispered, “Daniel, you’re finally awake. Thank goodness you’re okay, my love.” She tiptoed up to him and gave a warm hug, but lightly enough so as not to aggravate the metal singer’s injuries.

Daniel hugged her back and didn’t want to let go of his newfound queen. But when he finally did, he asked, “How long have I been asleep? It feels like forever.”

“You were in a coma for a whole year. The doctors didn’t think you were going to live through the surgery. But you’ve proven what my father knew about you all along: you’re a fighter, Daniel. You’re a no-nonsense warrior with so much left to do,” said Raven with a beautiful smile.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Daniel with a sheepish grin. “But seriously though…how am I supposed to rule a whole kingdom when I can’t even get out of bed? What the hell’s been going on while I was asleep?”

Raven sniffled a little bit before saying, “Father finally passed away. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but it still hurts to this day. I’ve taken over the throne in his absence, but also in yours. Daniel, I can’t do this by myself. You’re the one who gave my people hope. You’re the one they trust the most. You were directly responsible for ending the nightmare that was Roger Zee.”

“Come on, Raven, you knew I had help,” said Daniel with another sheepish expression.

“Yes, you did have help, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t play a huge part in the outcome. Everybody needs help whether it’s with saving the world or getting over psychological trauma. And now I’m asking you, Daniel, to help me run the elven kingdom. I understand you need more time to recover. But this elf society is a team effort. We’re all in this together. We have to rebuild our structures and bring peace to the land once more. I’d love for you to be a part of that, Daniel.”

The Lord of the Pit stared into Raven’s gorgeous eyes with so many pros and cons to consider. Was he really ready for this kind of responsibility? Was he ready to exchange his role as a victim for that of a courageous leader? These questions weighed more heavily on his heart that the metal plates protecting his surgically-reconstructed ribs.

Another light knock on the door later and a whole host of friends came to see Daniel had finally awakened. Tiger Man, Snowball, and Bone Warrior were still dressed in their monk robes and terrifying masks while Shawn Henry wore metal armor with a sheriff’s badge emblazoned on the chest.

The detective smiled at Daniel while carrying a plate of hospital food that looked too good to have come from such a place. “Danny boy, what’s up? Glad you’re finally awake! Here, have some dinner.”

The singer gave an awkward look to the contents of the plate once it was placed in his lap. Mashed potatoes and asparagus weren’t the most triggering thing on the menu. It was when he picked up a rack of barbecued beef ribs that he chuckled nervously and uttered a squeaky, “Thanks?”

Shawn asked, “What’s wrong, Daniel? Too soon?”

Holding his thumb and forefinger together, the patient said, “It might be just a little bit too soon.”

Bone Warrior opened his robe to reveal a full skeletal suit underneath and asked, “So this isn’t cool either?”

The entire room busted up laughing, including a weak attempt at a chuckle from Daniel, who said, “Actually, that’s fucking awesome.” His smile grew wider when he said, “You guys are the best. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Snowball leaned on Daniel’s bed and asked, “So when are you getting out of this damn thing? We’ve got an album to record and a kingdom to run. That’s two jobs at once, buddy. We’ve already got the guitars, bass, and drums recorded. We just need those sweet ass vocals of yours. Are you up for doing two jobs at once?” After shrugging silence from Daniel, Snowball said, “Come on, big boy! You killed Roger Zee like the badass you are! You can do anything!”

The Lord of the Pit gazed around the room with so much responsibility in his hands. He took in the scent of every lavender flower left behind for him, no doubt from fans and/or elf constituents. He looked at his soon-to-be wife with a combination of love and lust in his eyes. He nodded at Shawn as a sign of confidence for his newfound role as elven sheriff. The only three people left to consider were the ones staring him in the face with those evil, vile masks. These three guys looked every bit as awesome as Daniel’s band mates of the past, most notably from the first incarnation of Demon Axe to the short-lived Demon Death Juice. They also looked tough enough to hang in a wrestling ring with Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez, may they rest more peacefully than Daniel did in his coma.

Taking everything into consideration, Daniel P. Mercer a.k.a. The Lord of the Pit had one last request: “Get me my goddamn face paint. We’ve got lots of shit to do and little time to do it in. Fuck it, I’m ready!”

Demon Axe, Chapter 22

Roger stabbed his machete into the ground at the sight of various vehicles pulling up to the bottom of the mountain. Police cruisers and SWAT vans, pickup trucks and SUV’s, and finally an eighteen-wheeler parked sideway in the far back to make plenty of room. What it was making room for, Roger didn’t know. All he knew is that these people were worthy of his most venomous scowl with folded arms to boot.

Shawn and Raven on the other hand looked down at the multi-car scene with a mixture of confusion and relief. Was this some kind of cavalry or were these people going to be more innocent victims of Roger’s mad slashing? Arthur didn’t seem too worried about it judging from the grin on his elderly face and the words, “I told you my new friends would come,” to his nemesis.

And sure enough they did. Cops got out of their cruisers, pro-wrestlers wearing their gear got out of their gas-guzzling vehicles, and heavy metal fans with Demon Axe T-shirts joined their newfound brethren in the open space between the semi and the other cars. Once they all assembled with their arms folded and their game faces on, the police captain tested his bullhorn like a roadie would a microphone: “Check, one, two, check.”

Roger’s look of disdain turned into a mocking grin. He even pulled his machete out of the ground to drive home his next talking point. “Is this what you call a cavalry, Arthur? I don’t see toughness from any one of these bastards! I see a bunch of walking corpses ready to get their heads chopped off!” Pointing his blade at the crowd below, he barked, “Don’t even bother drawing your pop guns, because you’ll be dead before you have the chance to use them!”

“We’re not here to arrest you, Roger Zee, no matter how much you deserve it,” said the captain through his bullhorn. “We’re not even here to pick a fight, again, no matter how much you deserve it. We’re all here for one reason: to see a goddamn heavy metal show. We bought our tickets and we’re ready to rock and fucking roll. You see these people, Roger? These are all of the people you’ve pissed off by killing off their friends and family for political bullshit. Did you think these rasslers were going to forget that you murdered Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez? Did you think these men and women in uniform were going to forget that you turned a respectable police department into a slaughterhouse? Did you think these metal heads in Demon Axe shirts were going to forget what you’ve put the Lord of the Pit through? Hell no! And yet, all we want to do is listen to some goddamn rock and roll! You know, the kind of music that gets us through our day with our sanity intact.”

The captain turned his head and nodded at the driver of the semi, who flipped a switch inside the cab and raised the side compartment like a garage door. Roger’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he saw what the truck was delivering: an entire stage of musical equipment. A bass and electric guitar stood at opposite sides of the stage while a drum kit was nestled in the back. A microphone stand took center stage sans an actual microphone.

Slowly emerging from behind the curtain were three black robed monks with their faces hidden by their massive hoods and their ancient chants haunting the elven landscape. The monks took their positions at the bass guitar, electric guitar, and drums respectively. They stood there languidly for a moment while Roger Zee swung his machete around in the air like he was ready for combat. “More victims? Sure, why not! Thanks for saving me the trouble of having to find you assholes!”

The three monks growled like animals at Roger’s insult before removing their hoods to reveal their masked faces. Just like any member of Daniel Mercer’s band, their masks sent chills up the spines of anyone who dared mess with them. One by one they revealed themselves to their audience, machete-wielding and otherwise.

The tiger-masked drummer said in an Arabian accent, “I am Tiger Man. I was once part of a metal band called I Am Death before you took our guitarist away from us, Roger. He was a brother to us. He represented everything that was right with both our religion and our music. You stole him from us, you sadistic piece of shit!”

The skull-masked bass player, also using an Arabian accent, pointed his elongated finger at Roger and said, “I am Bone Warrior. I too was a member of I Am Death. Everything Tiger Man just said is Allah’s honest truth, right down to the moment where he called you a sadistic piece of shit. I have a whole list of disgusting insults I’d like to use right now to describe you, Roger, but instead I’d rather play the bass and get this show on the road.”

And then there was the zombie-masked guitarist with demon horns and a Santa hat who said, “I am Snowball. I am the last surviving member of the LGBT metal band Juice. Roger, there’s nothing I’d love more than to wrap these guitar strings around your neck and take every last ounce of oxygen from that pathetic body of yours. But that’s not what guitar strings are for. They’re for playing badass music with badass people. Daniel, get your butt down here so that we can get this show started!”

Roger mockingly chuckled at Snowball and said, “I’m sorry, did you say you wanted Daniel to get his butt down there? I’m afraid he can’t do that right now. Let’s just say I did to him what you LGBT motherfuckers do to men’s asses on a daily basis. Besides, he can’t sing to you right now because his ribs look like a fucking jigsaw puzzle. Look at him! He’s easily-triggered! He’s pathetic! He’s a snowflake, Snowball!”

Slowly stirring from his traumatized state, Daniel pulled his shorts up, spit out blood on the side of the mountain, and clutched his broken ribs while making it to his feet. He stared fire and poison through Roger’s goofy gaze before snatching his rightfully owned microphone out of the zealot’s hands. Daniel leaned his face close to Roger’s and said, “I’m not your victim anymore!”

With mind-blowing pain in every step, the Lord of the Pit dragged his feet down the side of the Holy Mountains with Shawn, Raven, and Arthur stabilizing him along the way. Raven whispered in her boyfriend’s ear, “You can do this, Daniel. You’re not a victim anymore. You’re our next king.”

Feigning concern with more goofy facial expressions, Roger said, “Oh, look at you, Daniel. Are you having a little bit of trouble getting down the mountain? Here, let me give you a boost!” The elf zealot planted the toe of his steel boot into Daniel’s butt cheek and sent him rolling down to the bottom of the mountain in a crumpled heap.

“You fucking bastard!” Shawn bellowed. “I ought to blow your face off right fucking now!” The detective raised his shotgun with his trigger finger itching for some blood.

Raven lowered the barrel while screaming, “No, don’t! You’ve seen what Roger can do with that blade! This is not the way we’re ending this!”

“He killed my wife and daughter! He deserves to have his head blown the fuck right off!” shouted Shawn.

“Listen to reason, Detective Henry,” said the police captain through his bullhorn. “You’re one of the best cops we have on the force. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for. Come on down here and mosh with us. It’s a rock concert, damn it!”

Shawn gazed at his police brethren and back at Roger while contemplating the voice of reason’s talking points. As much as he wanted to blow the terrorist’s head off with a well-placed shotgun shell, his wisdom dictated that getting murdered himself wouldn’t do a damn thing for his family. He stood there for a while with fists clenched and his trigger finger pulsating with rage. He finally dropped his shotgun and allowed Raven and Arthur to take him by the hands down the side of the mountain.

“You made the right call, Shawn,” said Roger. “Not that it really matters since I’m going to turn this so-called concert into a battlefield of dead bodies, not unlike the one I left behind back at the elven city.”

The threesome ignored Roger’s immature insults and knelt down to help Daniel to his feet. The Lord of the Pit groaned and whined as he struggled with his equilibrium. His ribs felt like he just ate a Halloween apple full of razorblades and spikes, yet he brushed his friends away and said, “It’s okay, guys. I got this. Trust me.”

Shawn, Raven, and Arthur joined the mosh pit congregation while trusting Daniel to gingerly make his way to one of SWAT team members. He spit out more blood and said, “Give me a goddamn flak vest. Now!”

“A flak vest? You really think that’s going to help you get through an entire set? I’d say you’re delusional, but you probably already know that from being an easily-triggered snowflake,” laughed Roger.

Daniel no-sold the insult as he strapped the flak vest around his ribs and limped his way to the makeshift stage. Snowball and Bone Warrior reached down and gently pulled Daniel up to his microphone stand, where he placed the axe-decorated piece of equipment into its rightful slot. Roger clapped like a little child and mockingly cheered Daniel as he made it to the stage.

“Keep clapping, buddy!” said Snowball. “But before you think you’ve won anything, check this shit out!” The demonic Christmas enthusiast picked up his guitar and flipped it around to reveal it had the same magical runes as Daniel’s microphone. Roger’s eyes bulged out of their sockets in horror as Bone Warrior revealed the same thing with his bass guitar and Tiger Man did so with his drum sticks.

“No…No…NO!” shouted Roger as he clutched his head in while rocking up and down.

“in the same way that Daniel’s microphone carries the lost souls of Pig Man, Vulture Man, and G-Pac,” explained Arthur, “These newly christened members of Demon Axe had their instruments imbued as well. The game is up, Roger. It’s over!”

After whining angrily through gritted teeth, Roger pulled his machete out of the ground and roared, “Nothing is over until I say it’s over! My reign as king will last forever and you sons of bitches are fucking dead! Do you hear me?! DEAD!” The zealot charged down the hill twirling his blade ready for yet another terrorist massacre.

Without regard for his battered ribs, Daniel screamed into the microphone, “One, two, three, four!” Just when Roger had entered the mosh pit and he was ready to bring his blade down on his first victim, he was sent flying backwards by the sound waves of “Fucking Hostile” by Pantera.

For the first time in a long time, everyone appeared to be having a good time. They didn’t have to worry about death and politics like a constant case of anxiety. They didn’t have to listen to their traumatic voices tell them what to do. They didn’t even have to pay their overdue bills until it was all over. It was just a mosh pit full of angry motherfuckers shoving each other and getting down to the classic Pantera sound as presented by Demon Axe. Even Raven, Shawn, and Arthur got in on the aggressive fun, bouncing off everybody in sight and getting tossed around like sacks of potatoes themselves.

The sound waves continued to assault Roger’s mind while his traumatic ghosts haunted him with the loudest voices. Every innocent he has ever killed, every living being who despised him in the present, they all gave this scumbag terrorist the brain fuck of the century. Roger clutched his ears and pounded his head against the ground until he couldn’t take it anymore. By the time “Fucking Hostile” came to a close, his head exploded like a hand grenade and got pieces of brain and skull all over the audience. This wasn’t traumatic violence. This was putting the death in death metal.

The audience roared like lions in a cage and chanted Demon Axe’s name, giving the performers onstage a reason to bow. Daniel, on the other hand, bowed for a much different reason. Even with the flak vest stabilizing his ribs, he clutched his chest and fell to the ground unconscious. His newfound band mates rushed to his aide while Raven fought her way through the crowd to try to do the same. “Daniel, no! Don’t die on me!” she shouted.

No matter how loud the screams were or how energetic the noise was, Daniel wouldn’t wake up from his final nightmare. He was carried offstage like a baby in Snowball’s arms while Tiger Man and Bone Warrior hung their heads following him. Raven tried to climb the stage, but the crowd swept her away and all she could do was allow tears to rain down her face like a thunderstorm of emotions. Was this the end of the elven kingdom? Had Roger Zee taken an entire world to the grave with him? Was it all too late? Worse, was it all for nothing?

Demon Axe, Chapter 21

Arthur Triscloud stared at Raven and Shawn with intense neon fury, his sword gripped tightly by his side, his other hand stretched out like a monster’s claw. His daughter and her cop friend held their ground with their own weapons in hand, though they secretly hoped they wouldn’t need them in this unnecessary battle of family bloodlines. The elf princess and the cop nodded at each other and made a mad scramble towards the once noble king.

Arthur held them back with quick and technical swings of his sword, but Raven swung back even harder in an attempt to knock the weapon out of her father’s hands. Shawn tried circling around his opponent, but he was met with wild slashes as well, which he barely dodged. The only thing Mr. Triscloud managed to hit was a piece of Shawn’s black T-shirt. A conservative amount of blood trickled down, but the hardnosed detective brushed it off all the same.

Raven tried to enter her father’s range with more aggressive swings of her blade, but her weapon was chopped in two by the king’s mighty sword. The zombie-like warrior held his blade against his daughter’s throat with her hands high in the air. Shawn ran in from behind and bear hugged Arthur around the middle of his arms.

“Get the crown! Get it off his head!” shouted Shawn, who was being tossed from side to side by Arthur’s thrashing. Raven rushed up to her father with her chopped up blade in hand in an attempt to pry the thorns loose. After one lethal spin from the monstrous king, both of his assailants were chucked through the air and down the steep hill. The two of them lost their weapons along the violent roll down, which left them with bumps and cuts everywhere. They didn’t stop rolling until they were halfway down the hill, where the animal skeletons halted their momentum.

The two fighters felt sore enough to barely move after such a rough tumble. Shawn slowly reached for his shotgun, his lack of speed the result of not wanting to aggravate his injuries. He had his fingers on the barrel when Arthur appeared out of nowhere and stomped on Shawn’s hand, creating a cluster-fuck of popping sounds and getting a painful cry out of the detective’s voice.

Arthur picked up the shotgun and aimed it at the fallen cop, still with his foot on Shawn’s hand. A resounding pump-action later and Raven yelled, “Stop! Stop it, Father!” The king looked at her with deadly hatred in his eyes, but she stood firm with a human arm bone in hand. “That look you’re giving me doesn’t mean shit right now! Roger Zee is out there somewhere and you’re just halting progress!”

“Progress? Progress?!” bellowed Arthur in his demonic voice. “Master Roger hates that word. It’s a word associated with fruity values. It’s a word associated with reverse discrimination. It’s a word associated with disdain for traditional beliefs. Come to think of it, I hate that word just as much as he does!”

Raven raised her bone club and threatened in a low voice, “If you hurt my friend, I swear to god, I’m going to…”

“You’re in no position to be making threats, my dear daughter!” shouted Arthur. “I am the king around here and Roger is going to be my successor! If you take another step closer, I’m going to blow this faggot’s head clean right off his shoulders! Your friend knows exactly what kind of danger he’s in. Look at him shivering like a little bitch!”

Shawn had had enough of being talked down to by a guy who was clearly brainwashed by a torture device. He wanted to restore the dignity of the Paulson City Police Department to its former glory. He wanted to be the hero that he couldn’t be to his wife and daughter. With clenched teeth and trembling muscles, Shawn whispered, “Go fuck yourself, you demagogue piece of shit!”

With one jerk of his hand, Shawn pulled King Triscloud off his feet and caused the shotgun to fire a round into the sky. Raven used this opportunity to run up to her fallen father and perform a body splash on his torso. Both Raven and Shawn pinned the corrupted politician to the ground while the former lodged the bone club into the base of the thorns. The more she pried, the louder Arthur’s screams became. Thrash around with newfound strength he might, he still couldn’t get all of that weight off of his chest and legs.

Arthur managed to free one of his legs and kick Shawn in the face hard enough to break his nose. With nobody to hold his legs and the detective grunting in hardcore pain, the king’s leg thrashing gave him more power to toss around Raven while he was on his back. And then the sound of wood snapping echoed across the Holy Mountains. As Arthur laid still and bellowed in agony, Raven jammed the bone club in further and pried even more pieces out of his head until the crown was completely broken.

With a bloody ring around his skull, Arthur’s demonic eyes slowly began losing their glow. Raven stood back with Shawn as her father made the transformation from brainwashed zombie to regal king once more. His eyes dimmed some more and he tossed and turned until he ran out of energy and passed out. His body was as limp as lifeless as any corpse found on the mountainside. For the longest few seconds, he didn’t move a muscle.

With Shawn still holding his broken nose, he and Raven approached the elven king for fear that they might have inadvertently killed him. “Come on, Dad! Breathe! Breath, goddamn it!” roared Raven with tears in her eyes. Her father still didn’t move and even more tears poured down her cheeks while Shawn used his free hand to comfort her shoulder. Another death in Roger’s long and torturous campaign of slaughter.

And just as the sun rose over the mountainside, Arthur’s fingers twitched slightly. His eyes slowly opened. He stretched out as if he had taken a long nap. Raven and Shawn pulled him up in a seated position and then the elven princess hugged her king with all the tightness and tears she could muster.

“Raven, I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, my dear. I never would have dreamed of doing this to my own flesh and blood,” said Arthur in his warm and loving elderly voice. The father and daughter duo hugged it out for the longest time while Shawn stood up and watched with a smile on his face despite blood pouring down his lips. Arthur then broke the embrace and asked, “Where’s Daniel? Did Roger take him?”

“He pulled Daniel underground once the battle began,” explained Shawn. “Where the hell’s my shotgun; I want to blow this cocksucker’s head off!”

“Did you say you were looking for a cocksucker?” asked Roger, who appeared out of nowhere with a sick grin on his hideous face, his machete in one hand, and Daniel’s microphone in the other. Shawn, Raven, and Arthur gazed at the zealot with horrified eyes as he reached down and pulled Daniel out of the ground by his hair like a vegetable. “Your cocksucker is right here.”

Though still alive and breathing, Daniel was curled up in the fetal position with his shorts and underwear around his ankles and white and red fluids coming out of his mouth and anus. The once intense heavy metal singer was reduced to a thumb-sucking mess who rocked back and forth and held his broken ribs like a mother cradling a child.

While Shawn and Arthur’s eyes grew even bigger and more horrified than before, Raven had a new reason for tears to pour from her eyes like waterfalls. “What have you done to him, you monster!” she shouted at Roger before rushing up to cradle Daniel’s traumatized head in her arms.

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done on your honeymoon, sweetheart,” said Roger in a cold tone. Raven could do nothing but sob for her sodomized boyfriend and rock him back and forth like the baby he felt like being. Even Shawn and Arthur had tears in their own eyes after watching such an evil display of control.

Roger lifted his machete over his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “Well, I had my fun for the day. Should I just kill all four of you now or should I wait until your so-called friends get here, my liege? Heh, some friends they are. What kind of people leave their bestie high and dry like this? Reminds me of someone I know, someone who’s weapon of choice was the almighty Demon Axe. But hey, Daniel, don’t worry about a thing; I’m sure your old band mates forgive you, right? I bet those two blowhard wrestlers forgive you too, considering they come from an industry that just bathes in friendship and love.”

Daniel didn’t respond to these slanderous accusations. He just curled up and allowed Raven to mother him during his moment of psychological numbness and infinite terror. Right or wrong, Roger Zee made more sense to him than anybody telling him it wasn’t his fault. It was always his fault. Anybody who said differently was a bigger liar than any politician on TV.

The sun continued to peak over the horizon, but none of the four heroes felt like fun in the sun. They could do nothing but stand there and watch Roger laugh like a psychotic hyena. They could have just as easily picked a fight with the guy, but what power did they really have? They were just four guys and Roger was the ultimate fighting machine with a penchant for rape and “fun”.

By the time the sun flooded the clouds with intense color, Roger’s laughter mysteriously came to an end as he saw something in the distance. He didn’t know what it was, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it.

Demon Axe, Chapter 18

This heavy metal opera had to end somewhere and Daniel Mercer pictured all the possible ways it could in his sick and twisted mind. He rode in the back of the SWAT van staring daggers into his magical microphone as his imagination ran wild. Was it as easy as screaming in Roger Zee’s ears and making his head explode? Did there have to be a special message behind the song? For all Daniel knew, he could sing the elf zealot a lullaby and slit his throat in his sleep.

Since it was the life of Raven’s father at stake, perhaps she could be the one to finish him off. Slice his head off his shoulders like a circumcision (because he was such a dickhead). Sodomize him with the blade. Cut his legs off and watch him crawl away. Such thoughts brought a wicked smile to Daniel’s face. Watching his newfound love sharpening her blade with a whetstone brought a flutter to his heart that not even a cocaine high was capable of.

Daniel snapped out of his violent fantasy when the SWAT van took a huge bump and bounced his head off the roof. The heavy metal god growled in pain and clutched his head while unleashing a horde of colorful swear words. Raven patted him on the shoulder to see if he was okay and he said in no uncertain terms, “I’m fine!”

Shawn Henry, the driver of the van, slammed on the brakes and caused Daniel and Raven to lurch toward the front, almost like being taken for a nickel ride. The Lord of the Pit shouted, “Hey! Quit driving like a fucking drunk! You got to be careful, damn it!”

Through the partition, the rock and roll couple could hear the door slamming shut and booted feet sloshing in the mud while Shawn appeared to be yelling, “No, no, no, no!” Daniel and Raven looked at each other with confusion and concern before exiting the vehicle themselves to see what was going on.

Shawn stood over two corpses with his muscles tightened, his fists clenched, and a shaking complexion reminiscent of tears. One of the dead bodies was a grown woman in a sundress about Shawn’s age. The other was a small child who looked barely old enough to register what was happening to the Henry clan. Deep gashes covered their bodies to where bones were showing. Organs poured out of those wounds like rotten milk. Their groins and inner thighs had bruises the size of mountains. Shawn Henry had seen a lot of death in his career, but nothing prepared him for this: the sight of his wife and daughter discarded on a muddy rode like common trash.

Raven tiptoed toward Shawn and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, to which the sobbing detective waved it away and shouted, “Don’t touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” She honored this by slowly backpedaling in the arms of Daniel. The detective dropped to his knees and held the heads of his wife and daughter against his chest before letting out a combination of a lion’s roar and a sorrowful burst of tears. Even a brave warrior like Raven couldn’t help but shed a tear or two.

For Daniel Mercer, watching death never got any easier. He had been exposed to so much of it over the course of this quest. He even glorified it in his music, hence the genre death metal. All he could do was wrap his arm around his girlfriend and stare blankly at the emotional trauma Shawn Henry was going through. When would enough be enough for someone like Roger Zee? How many people had to die because of his strong beliefs? What was the point of all this? Whatever joy Daniel felt fantasizing about Roger’s death was blown away like ashes in the wind at the sight of this honorable cop in a vulnerable moment.

“Great plan, Einstein,” said a familiar voice in Daniel’s head. With wide-eyed hyper-vigilance, he scoped the muddy forest for the source of the voice and saw the mangled ghost of Bear Man haunting his mind. “Complete disregard the safety of someone’s family and now look what happened to them. Nice job, buddy. Sounds familiar to me.”

“You shut the fuck up! I’ve had it up to here with you!” bellowed the Lord of the Pit.

“Daniel, who are you talking to?” asked Raven in a worried tone.

Lady Killer was next poltergeist to invade Daniel’s mind. “Why should we shut up, Daniel, are we saying things that you don’t like to hear? But isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Didn’t you make your living that way?”

“I’m sick of you motherfuckers blaming me for everything! You want to blame someone for all of this, blame Roger Zee! He’s the one who’s doing this to us! Go torture him instead of me! I’m the one trying to help you guys!” screamed Daniel.

“Daniel, stop it!” cried Raven.

The rest of Daniel’s band mates, Demon Axe or otherwise, floated in a circle around him and barked insults at him to deafening levels. Daniel held his ears and groaned loudly while Raven was trying to shake him out of it. “Daniel, please! Stop it! You’re scaring me!”

“That’s right, Lord of the Pit!” said the ghosts in a unified demonic voice. “You’d better stop it before you drive another loved one to their death!” The ghosts snorted and snickered while bathing in red electricity and purple smoke.

Even more lights began to flash in Daniel’s mind, much like the strobe pattern of when he was tortured with his own music. Right then he was being tortured by people he thought were his friends. True friends didn’t pass blame or judgment. Shawn’s wife and daughter would never blame him for their deaths. Neither should these band mates.

Daniel released his head and shouted into the skies (sans microphone), “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” The electricity and smoke faded into nothingness and the ghosts were silent with shame. “Nobody put a gun to your heads and made you join my band! You came here on your own volitions! But I can tell you guys don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore! If that’s what you want, then give me your masks! You’ve lost your right to play music with me! Come on, fork ‘em over! I’m sick of this goddamn shit! Hand ‘em over, now!”

The ghosts barely gazed at each other with hung heads before shrugging their shoulders and floating over to Daniel to do what they were told. One by one, the masks came off as the spirits floated away into smoke and dust. As the Lord of the Pit collected the masks, he gave them in return their old identities.

“You’re not Vulture Man. You’re Roman John. You’re not Pig Man. You’re Chris James. You’re not G-Pac. You’re Donald Brock. You sure as shit aren’t Bear Man. Phil Charles you’ll be. Fork it over, Lady Killer. Your real name is CJ Bill. Fuck you, Tarantula Man. Your name is Ahmed Tehran.” Once the last of the masks was collected, Daniel cast his finger off and angrily whispered, “Get the fuck out of my head!” The dust and smoke swirled into a vortex and was sucked into the dark gray skies. The Lord of the Pit threw the masks out in the distance and watched them fizzle out as well.

A solitary tear ran down the singer’s face as his traumatic anger played out in front of him. Whether or not this was a permanent solution for closure was answered when he heard the soothing, opera-style voice of Raven singing into the magical microphone. He snapped out of his trance and gazed at his girlfriend with loving and damp eyes. She sounded beautiful. Where did she learn to sing like that? Did the elves care that deeply about music? Every note of that operatic chant felt as soothing as a warm breeze in a field of flowers, a far cry from the muddy and corpse-ridden forest they had been driving through.

Daniel hugged his girlfriend tightly and said in an emotional voice, “I love you, Raven. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you too, Daniel. You’ll always be the Lord of the Pit to me,” she whispered as she hugged him back.

Also snapping out of his traumatic outburst was Shawn Henry, who was now standing over the corpses of his family with vicious confidence on his face instead of sorrow. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him badly. Daniel, you better not act like that in the middle of battle or that shotgun shell will be meant for you. You’d better scream your fucking head off until Roger can’t stand it anymore.”

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Shawn. I want that piece of shit as much as you do. Let’s go!”

Demon Axe, Chapter 17

“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

These gentle words brought a flood of light into Raven’s blacked out field of vision. She squinted so that her eyes could adjust, but they were still stinging from her battle with Roger Zee. Upon being reminded of that hideous name, she sat up with a quickness only to clutch her aching ribs and be laid back down again by powerful hands on her arms. Every part of her body felt like it was branded with a hot iron. Yet in this familiar man’s care, she remained relaxed.

Her burning eyes opened some more until the blurry shape before her straightened into focus. The long brown hair, the middle-aged face, the rock n’ roll T-shirt, they were all there. Raven couldn’t believe such gentle care came from a man whose occupation required fiery aggression. It was him alright. The man she had so many petty arguments with, yet couldn’t be without. Daniel Mercer smiled down on her with the face only a mother could love…a Mother of Dragons, that is.

“Daniel…we have to….we have to find my father…” whimpered Raven.

“I know, Raven. Trust me, I know. Shawn and I got here a little too late. I’m so sorry,” said Daniel.

With her clear vision, the elf princess gazed around the room to find she was lying on a police blanket in the back of a SWAT van. The dented shelter wasn’t pretty nor was the van mobile at all, but it was better than the battlefield of dead bodies waiting for them outside. Tears welled up in Raven’s eyes as she thought of her lost comrades.

Daniel wiped them away with the bottom of his shirt and said, “It’ll be okay. We’re going to find your father and that bastard Roger. But you need to rest for now. You were badly beaten when we found you.”

“How can I even think about resting when…?” cried Raven.

“Listen to me,” said Daniel as he held the elf’s hand in his own. “I know how much your father means to you. But if you go out and look for him in the condition you’re in, you won’t stand a chance. I know this, because I too had to stay in the hospital before I came here. That’s the reason why I was late.”

Raven’s face oozed with concern and sorrow when she asked, “Why were you in the hospital, Daniel? What did Roger do to you?”

The singer breathed a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few more heavy breaths, he said with trepidation, “He tortured me. I formed a new band just as I said I would…and he took all of us to a black site…he…” Daniel rubbed the sogginess out of his eyes. “He killed all of them right in front of me…and he took me to a dark room…he fucking tortured me with my own music…”

The elf princess squeezed Daniel’s hand in sympathy while using her other hand to brush his long locks. “That’s awful…He’s a goddamn monster!”

“For a while, I didn’t think I could ever be interested in metal music again. I thought my dream was over. The very thing that got me through life was going to be taken away from me. And then…I, uh…the place I went to in order to stop the pain…was you, Raven. I thought about how lovely you were…how much you cared…how you saved me from my own nightmares…It’s the only thing that got me through it all. If it wasn’t for those images, I probably would have…killed myself,” sobbed Daniel.

Despite having a bruised and battered body, Raven found the strength to slowly sit up and give her friend a loving hug, which he returned. They stayed locked in each other’s embrace for the longest time. Long enough to finally ignore their own pain, both physical and emotional.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Daniel. It’s about why you were chosen to take on Roger,” confessed Raven.

When the embrace was gingerly broken, the singer said, “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know what I must do and why I should do it.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s deeper than that, Daniel. Please, let me explain,” said Raven as she laid back down on the blanket. “My father has been around for many generations. He doesn’t have much longer to live. For a while we’ve been looking around scouting for a new king to rule over the elves. My father chose you, Daniel. He’s been watching you for a long time. He knows how passionate you can be. He knows where your morals lie. He believes in you.”

Daniel’s expression softened when he said, “But…I don’t know how to be a leader, Raven. I don’t know anything about being a politician. I led two heavy metal bands and all members of both bands are fucking dead. They’re dead because of me.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” asked Raven. “What did I teach you when I showed you the EMDR technique at the arena? Besides, I’m not much of a leader either as you can tell from the dead bodies outside. But if we’re judging our leadership skills based on another asshole’s actions, then you are really the only option we have. How is this any different from the politics of your human world?”

“Gee, thanks, Raven,” said Daniel with a light chuckle. Raven giggled as well. “But if we can be serious for a moment, what do I have to offer the elves if I can’t even handle my own goddamn life?”

“You have something that Roger hates with all of his might. You have creativity. You have music. You have a soul. A good soul, at that. Elves are passionate about the arts as you can tell from the lovely shapes of our buildings…before they were destroyed of course. Elves especially love music. That microphone we gave you is imbued with the souls of lost musicians. Every time you scream into the mouthpiece, you’re channeling their energy into every word you speak. When you sang that line about darkness before dawn, you made me believe in myself again. That’s how powerful your words really are. That’s why you must be next in line for the elven throne.”

Daniel hung his head in contemplation while petting Raven’s arm. The weight of the elven world rested on his shoulders, but he was determined to carry it with a titan’s strength. He lifted his head up to give an answer and a tiny smile was etched on his face. “If I become king of the elves…does that make you my queen?”

Raven threw her head back and giggled lightly enough to not aggravate her injuries. She thought it was just a joke, but when the laughter ceased, she saw the passion in Daniel’s eyes that King Arthur Triscloud himself boasted about. That was the look of someone with a purpose. That was the look of a hero. He knew he couldn’t rule this kingdom alone. He also knew he couldn’t live this life alone. He’d done the latter for so long throughout this campaign.

“Oh, Daniel…” whispered Raven as the two of them leaned in for a passionate kiss. As they brushed lips together and wrestled tongues, every ounce of energy they held back before came rushing into this loving moment. They spent so long denying each other and bickering senselessly. Neither of them wanted to give into each other until this private moment together. They kissed deeply, hugged tightly, and brushed each other’s hair wildly.

They were jerked away from their sexy moment when the back door of the van flung open and Shawn Henry stood there wide-eyed and with healing herbs in hand. He awkwardly said, “I found the medical supplies from the castle….in case you’re interested.”

“Um…yes, uh…of course we’re interested, Shawn. Thank you,” stammered Daniel as he crawled off of Raven and snatched the leaves out of the detective’s hands. He turned back to the wounded elf and said, “These, uh…these will help you recover, and…”

“We’ve used those before, Daniel. I know how they work,” said Raven.

The Lord of the Pit shakily crawled back to Raven and began applying the healing leaves and medical acid. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible when he said to Shawn, “You can leave now. I’ve got it from here.”

“Try not to have too much fun in there,” said Shawn with a smart-ass grin as he shut the van door.

Daniel smiled himself and said, “Well, that right there is what I like to call reverse Viagra.”

“You humans and your boner pills,” giggled Raven before she clutched her ribs in pain. “Hurry up and put that stuff on me, I’m hurting like hell!”

“Yes, Princess, I mean, Queen Triscloud!”

Demon Axe, Chapter 16

Any dumb fuck could make the excuse that the Paulson City Police were just doing what they were told for the sake of their families. The news anchors could sanitize their sins with Lysol until the end of time. But what about those in uniform who actually bought into Roger Zee’s twisted logic? Like a certain orange politician, Roger Zee’s actions and words gave permission to commit violence in the name of the “greater good”. The corrupt cops who felt empowered by this dangerous thinking were the ones driving tanks and hummers through the elven world.

Gigantic tanks crushing innocent street dwellers underneath their bladed wheels. Cannons blasting buildings until they crumbled to the ground. Hummers with machineguns mounted on them unloading a blizzard of bullets upon elves who tried to run and hide. After hundreds of years of the elves rebuilding their homeland, it once again resembled an apocalyptic scenario. Rubble scattered all over the pavement. Broken and twisted elf corpses strewn across the road with their blood running down the sewer drains. Screams and cries of those who were barely surviving pierced the ears, but not the hearts of their human rivals. Mothers huddling with their children behind piles of broken buildings.

The war machines were tromping their way across the wreckage and bloodied bodies with the intention of storming King Arthur Triscloud’s castle. The finest of elven architecture was ready to be violated with fiery cannonballs and armor-piercing bullets the size of crowbars. As more women and children gathered around the castle to shed their tears, their sorrows were met with laughter and mockery from the cops who were itching to settle the score between man and elf.

“This is not your land!” shouted a familiar female voice, putting an end to the hyena laughter. With rows upon rows of elven soldiers with swords marching behind her, Princess Raven Triscloud pointed her own blade at her world’s attackers while giving an oratory worthy of a certain Lord’s heavy metal performance.

With muscles twitching and raw anger in her voice, Raven shouted, “Whatever fake reminiscence Roger Zee is feeding you, it will be your downfall! Up until this moment, my elven race has never been a threat to human democracy! We just wanted to live peacefully and rebuild what your people have taken down with brute force! Anybody who says otherwise is dabbling in revisionist history! Your news anchors and your politicians have built the human empire on fear! You want something to be afraid of?! I’ll give it to you! Charge!”

The elven soldiers led by Raven rushed into battle with swords and shields raised while the human forces readied their machineguns and tank cannons. They unleashed a tidal wave of bullets across the elven warriors, but the indigenous race’s oversized shields deflected the ammunition off to the sides, where they bounced off rubble piles with audible pings. The elves stayed light on their feet as they dodged and weaved out of range of the cops’ high velocity cannons.

As soon as Raven and her soldiers bolted within range, the massive slaughter became a melee between swords and batons. Elves jammed elongated blades through their opponents’ black hearts and chopped off limbs, causing the human forces to bleed buckets all over the broken city streets. Likewise, cops rained down heavy clubs across the elves’ skulls until the fantasy race’s brains were splashed off the concrete.

Raven, being the most skilled fighter of her army, ran around to various human soldiers and slashed their throats, gutted their stomachs, and chopped off heads. She was often ganged up on by three, four, or five cops at a time, but for every baton strike, she rolled and flipped out of the way. While she was on the ground, she threw a circular slash and chopped off her opponents’ feet, causing them to scream like children and cuss like sailors as they bled profusely.

And then Raven noticed out of the corner of her eye that a tank cannon was aiming right for her. “Shit!” she yelled before cart-wheeling out of range. The cannon fired and blew concrete shrapnel all over her friends, making them easier targets for baton beatings over the head and across the ribs. At the threat of another cannon blast, Raven backed up into an alleyway to avoid more shrapnel. She needed time to rethink her strategy, but her friends were dying out there. “If only there was some way to disable those tanks,” she said to herself.

“I wouldn’t count on it if I was you,” said a haunting elf voice. Raven gasped and slowly turned around to face her new opponent. Out of the shadows came Roger Zee with his machete in hand and a shit-eating grin across his ugly face. “Haven’t you gotten tired of watching your loved ones die? Daniel Mercer certainly has. So much so that I doubt he’ll want to interfere in elf politics ever again,” mocked Roger.

“You bastard!” shouted Raven before engaging the terrorist in hand-to-hand combat. The two elves clanged and banged swords with enough volume to drown out the sounds of war going on in the background. They even managed to make dents in each other’s blades, though Raven’s were much deeper and nastier than Roger’s. The terrorist went for a slash to the throat only for Raven to duck underneath and bull rush her opponent against a brick wall.

Holding the blade to Roger’s neck, Raven angrily whispered, “You are a disgrace to your people, Roger. I’m going to enjoy taking your fucking head off!” She would have if a cannon blast didn’t take a chunk out of a nearby building and rock her off balance. Roger threw a palm strike to Raven’s gut and kicked her in the face, flipping her in the air and causing her to land on her chest. She spit out blood and nursed her numb face.

Roger arrogantly whistled as he picked up his machete and danced like a fruitcake to his fallen opponent. Raven slowly made it to her hands and knees, but Roger held the blade to the back of her neck and said, “Revisionist history my ass, Raven! The only traitor to the crown I see around here is your deadbeat father!”

The insult pumped adrenaline through Raven’s system as she grabbed Roger’s feet and pulled him to the ground, making him drop his weapon. Raven took this time to stagger to her feet while Roger nipped up like an athlete. From that point it was martial arts warfare. The female warrior threw punches and kicks around the head and ribs of her opponent, all of those attacks being blocked or dodged by Roger. The zealot grabbed one of Raven’s punches and squeezed on her wrist so tightly that she crumbled to her knees. He said, “That dig about your father? That wasn’t an alternative fact. It was a hard fact!”

Raven threw another punch, but Roger caught that one as well before throwing her overhead and slamming her on her back. From there the former Order of the Spider soldier dropped repeated elbows on her chest and ribs, causing her to cough up even more blood than before. She tried throwing her legs up to back him off, but she was so weak that it resembled drunken choreography.

Roger knelt down and held his blade to Raven’s throat, to which she said, “Go ahead! Finish me off! I’d rather die than live your dystopia!”

The terrorist chuckled, “As much as I’d love to finish you off right now, there’s a war going on around us in case you hadn’t noticed.” To prove his point, another chunk of rubble flew across the battlefield, dusting Raven and Roger with large pebbles. Roger stood up, grinned, and said, “Besides, you’re not the one that I came here for. Any minute now…”

“You scoundrel!” shouted an elderly male voice. Raven’s puffy vision was able to make out the features of her father as he dashed into battle and threw wild slashes at Roger. The terrorist dodged each slash with athletic grace before kneeing the king in the stomach and hoisting Arthur on his shoulder.

“Put him down!” demanded Raven as she coughed up more blood. Her rage fell on deaf ears as Roger retreated from the bloody battle going on around them. The Princess held out her hand in a weak attempt to save her father, but after a short while of seeing his pained face, Roger took him away into the violent morning.

Tears built up in Raven’s swelling eyes, but she had no outlet for her sorrow other than beating the ground with her aching fists. She tried getting up, but the pain surged through her bones and watered her down to a crawl across the concrete. She pulled with the last of her remaining strength and then closed her eyes in defeat. The human and elven worlds belonged to Roger Zee.

Her dreams, however, belonged only to her. As the sounds of battle were dying all around her, she envisioned Daniel Mercer with his magical microphone serenading a raucous crowd. He had his skeleton makeup on and everything. He even played with his former band mates: Vulture Man on guitars, Pig Man on bass, and G-Pac on drums.

Even though Daniel was screaming angry lyrics, he seemed happy and loved in a place like this. This was his natural habitat and Roger would never be able to take that away from him no matter how much land he ruled over. Raven would have smiled at this moment, but her mouth was bloody and it hurt to do so. “Find me, Daniel,” she whispered. “Find me again.”

Conforming to Society

***CONFORMING TO SOCIETY***

I can’t remember who exactly said it, but I read a Wikipedia article where the lead singer of a punk band talked about the necessity of conforming to society in order to fulfill responsibilities. In other words, doing what you’re told will give you worth in the eyes of your boss even if you don’t agree with your orders.

However, there’s a huge difference between doing what you’re told to earn a paycheck and changing your mindset to contour to the boss’s beliefs. When teenagers work at McDonald’s, they’re not doing it because they’re zealots of fast food. They’re doing it because they want money for an X-Box or a new car. Conformity takes place in the mind, not in the body. No sane human being would ever bomb a Burger King or spray poisonous gas in a Wendy’s in the righteous name of McDonald’s.

Money isn’t everything, but it is something. We all have to have it in some form or another, whether we’re keeping a roof over our heads or finding entertainment. Sometimes you have to do things for money that you never thought possible. But does that mean you’re a puppet for whoever you work for? No. Does it mean you have to give up on your original dreams? No.

If your boss does something morally corrupt, you could just as easily look for another job behind his back. If you need time to work on your dreams, wait until you get home. Even if you work seven days a week, you can use at least a modicum of your free time to work on other projects. Yes, you’ll be tired at the end of the day, but if you set aside time for yourself, it can be achieved.

What you do in your private life and what you believe in your own mind are nobody else’s business but your own. Your mind is a personal haven where you can say or do whatever you want. You can have violent fantasies, sexual fantasies, adventures, and other trains of thought without invasion. Yes, people will try to invade your private sanctuary with insults and abuse, which is why it’s important to maintain your individuality and suppress thoughts of conforming to your haters. Being an individual is a skill, but as long as you remember who you are and why you do what you do, it can be done.

I’m currently reading another one of Andy Peloquin’s books and it’s called “Child of the Night Guild”. The opening scenes depict a cruel drill instructor named Master Velvet trying to force small children to obey him at all times by starving them, beating them, and screaming at them. While the children do bend to his will, I’ll bet you anything that somewhere in their minds they’re thinking about kicking this guy in the nuts. He controls them by changing their birth names to numbers, but other than lost memories, I still wonder why these kids don’t just gang up on Master Velvet and beat him into powder.

There’s no rule that says you have to like what you do for a living or like who’s in charge. There’s also no rule that says you can’t use your employment as a stepping stone for bigger and better things. You can work at a convenience store, pay your bills, and set aside some money to publish that next great novel of yours. It doesn’t happen right away and your soul will feel crushed from time to time, but it can be done. Everyone tells you how hard it is to be an artist, but nobody tells you how hard it is NOT to be an artist. Think of all your favorite authors, actors, and musicians and what they had to go through to get to where they are today. And yet, they managed to achieve their dreams.

Putting on a grocery store apron doesn’t make you a zealot any more than earning a paycheck makes you a conformist. Do what you need to do to survive and then be yourself when you come back to your private life. If you like wearing rock band T-shirts, put one on when you get home. If you like watching Real Time with Bill Maher even though your boss likes watching The O’Reilly Factor, watch Bill Maher’s show when you get home.

If you need help remembering who you are, surround yourself with friends and family who believe in you. You might have to search far and wide to find these people, but it’s worth it. It might even be as easy as doing an internet search. Someone out there loves you for who you are. Not everybody wants you to change into something you’re not. No, you don’t have to conform to society in order to survive. Society isn’t always going to be your friend. Only people who love and respect you can be part of your own society. Do what makes you happy and be with people who will make you happy. You deserve the best, always.

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 11***

I somehow have the feeling that there should be a transition chapter between 10 and 11. But as it is, when chapter 10 ends with a bonfire argument, chapter 11 begins with a heavy metal concert at another venue. Daniel Mercer instantly forms a new band with members of I Am Death and Juice and they miraculously know how to play Demon Axe songs. Monk robes, scary masks, and crazy stage names aside, the new band won’t be called Demon Axe. It’ll be a combination of those three bands: Demon Death Juice. Again, these things happen instantaneously even though concerts sometimes take weeks or even months to book in advance, not to mention hours of practice the bands have to go through to get their songs right. Do we have time for rational solutions to the transition problem? Could months pass without another terrorist attack from Roger Zee? I need to sit on this one for a while before I write the damn thing.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Uneven tits aside, I’d say that Raven Triscloud turned out well. Now it’s time to draw a villain since a hero was featured in the last picture. That’s how I’m going to pump out Dark Fantasy Warriors: hero, villain, hero, villain, hero, villain. This time, we’ve got Carla Madder, the razor-toothed, overweight madam from the Poison Tongue Tales 2 story “Shield Me”. This woman could easily be the most frightening character I have and that’s saying something considering most of my villains are psychotic necrophiles who rape and murder without mercy.

***MIXED-MARTIAL ARTS QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Love me or hate me, just debate me.”

-Ronda Rousey-

***POST-SCRIPT***

I just found out that Ronda Rousey lost to Amanda Nunes at UFC 207 via TKO in under a minute. That makes me sad. It also makes me wonder where she’ll go from here now that she lost two title matches in a row. The last time she lost a UFC fight was when she dropped the Women’s Bantamweight Championship against Holly Holm. She considered suicide after that match. After her first stare down with Nunes, she needed to be consoled. If I could hug Ronda right now, I would.

Demon Axe, Chapter 10

Building a campfire in the grassy arena wasn’t hard to do considering so many victims left behind their pot lighters during the slaughter. The foursome could have just as easily crawled inside the Demon Axe tour van and ran the heater, but who wanted to be inside that beat up piece of shit anyways? The cackling flames in the early morning chill felt good against the shaking hands of Daniel Mercer, as well as his newfound friends in the form of Johnny Vega, Sonia Marquez, and Raven Triscloud. The Demon Axe microphone sat beside Daniel like it was his own child.

“So, Mr. Lord of the Pit, what do we do now? Do we hunt this Roger asshole down or what?” asked Johnny, his fists tightening at the thought of getting his hands on that self-righteous lunatic.

“Trust me, Johnny boy, there’s nothing I’d love more than to scream a few lines in his face. I might let you power bomb him a few times first. Maybe Sonia can lock him in a triangle choke with those long legs of hers. But you know what? Roger Zee isn’t going to make himself easy to find. You want to know why it took a long time to find Bin Laden? Because it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Or a nun a porn convention. Or a bloody coat hanger in a catholic church. Or a…”

Raven cut off Daniel’s dialogue with, “Okay, we get it. Roger is hard to find. It’s not like we have a GPS signal on him or anything like that. And I shudder to think about waiting for him to make another attack.”

“Wait a minute…” said Daniel like a light bulb was going off in his mind. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s it! I’ve got the microphone! Johnny and Sonia know how to wrestle! I say we put on a fucking show, baby!” The two wrestlers cheered with fists raised to the sky.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second!” said Raven while waving her arms around defensively. “Daniel, you can’t actually be that dumb, can you? Yes, your microphone has these supernatural powers that can subdue pretty much anybody, but you’re talking about luring Roger Zee out in the open, basically daring him to attack. You’re inviting all of these people to see a show and they’re going to be victims! Do you not see what the hell it is you’re suggesting, Daniel? You’re using your own audience as fodder! I spent all of this time trying to convince you that the death of your band mates wasn’t your fault. If you put on this show in an attempt to lure out Roger, those deaths WILL be on your head! Is that what you want?”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was a Demon Axe show or a fucking Justin Bieber abortion,” said Johnny. “Roger is going to attack whether Daniel’s involved or not. It could be people on a subway, people at a football game, or even a fucking strip club, for god’s sake. If Daniel puts on a show somewhere, at least we’ll be there to stop this Dungeons & Dragons douche bag before he starts slashing shit to pieces.”

“He’s blunt, but he’s got a point,” said Sonia with a wink.

“How the hell is he going to put on a concert when all of his Demon Axe buddies are dead?! He can’t just scream into a microphone and expect people to dance around like puppets! He needs a guitarist! He needs a bass player! He needs a drummer! And none of those people can be imaginary this time!” said a frustrated Raven. In her mind, this debate shouldn’t even have been happening. It was just a case of testosterone (even on Sonia’s side) versus common sense.

Daniel had a shit-eating grin on his face when he said, “I think I might know some guys who will fill those roles. The night of the concert, there were two other bands that played before Demon Axe. One of them was an LGBT-themed band called Juice (what else are you going to call it?) and the other was a Muslim-themed band called I Am Death (again, what else are you going to call it?). I think some of those guys would be happy to play a few new hits.”

Raven laughed sarcastically and after being asked by Daniel what was so funny, she said, “Oh, that’s fucking rich! You’re going to ask two heavy metal bands who are probably more traumatized than you are right now if they want to be bait for Roger Zee. They’ve gone through enough shit already and now you’re going to put them through an even bigger shit storm. Were they even around during the attack or did they leave before it could happen?”

“Those guys are like brothers and sisters to me!” snapped Daniel. “I gave them a chance to open for me when nobody else would! They’ve done so much to help me in my career that this was the best way I could pay them back! If Juice and I Am Death decide to help me with my plan, I’ll make sure they get all the star power they can handle. Their careers are going to skyrocket after this show. All the hateful motherfuckers out there who harass them on Twitter and in public are going to have to eat their words like a big old turd sandwich! What do you think about that, Raven-Pie?!”

Raven held up a wagging finger and said, “First of all, don’t call me Raven-Pie. I’m not your granddaughter or your wife. And second of all, if you’re going to use your so-called brothers and sisters are cannon fodder, make sure they know what the fuck it is they’re signing up for. Otherwise, they’re never going to trust you again and they’ll fade back into obscurity. But I’m pretty sure that once they figure out what the hell is going on, they’re going to tell you to take your star power and shove it up your ass.”

“Do you want to catch this motherfucker or not?!” shouted Daniel. “Roger Zee is your project, Raven! He’s a product of your society whether you want to admit it or not! I’m handing him to you on a silver platter and you won’t even jump at the opportunity! And here I thought that blade you carry in your boot was for fighting the good fight! Turns out you’re just chopping onions! Either that or you really are crying about bullshit!”

Raven sighed and stood up before starting her way back to the portal. When asked where she was going by Daniel, she looked at him sternly and said, “If you think sacrificing a bunch of innocent people is going to get you what you want, then obviously I can’t stop you. Hell, your wrestler friends seem to be onboard with it and they could probably pile-drive my ass if I tried to stop you. Just know this: the next time your brain goes numb from the trauma you endure, don’t bother using that EMDR trick I showed you. I want you to live with that pain for the rest of your miserable life. I’m going back to the elven world to tell my king about how he wasted a perfectly good magic spell on you. I’m sure it’ll break his heart, but I’m telling him anyways. Goodbye, Daniel. I hope your plan is worth it.”

Raven opened the portal to the elven world underneath the statue of King Arthur Triscloud and hopped through without protest from her other three former cohorts. Daniel was left with a solemn expression on his face, as if the elf’s words stung his heart worse than any slash from Roger’s machete. Just when the Lord of the Pit was going to sink into depressive quicksand…

“Man, who gives a shit what she thinks?!” roared Johnny. “If she wants to go back home to daddy and whine until the apocalypse, then we don’t need her ass anyways! Trust me, Daniel, you’ve got this. Sonia and I will be bouncers at your concert if that’s what you want. The minute Roger shows up with that sick-looking blade of his, we’ll hold him still while you spit some lines in his face. And then all of your loyal fans can body surf his ass onstage so that you can take the world’s biggest dump on his chest. Doesn’t that sound like a plan?”

Daniel still had a contemplative expression on his face and refused to answer. Sonia snapped him out of it when she reached over and lovingly stroked the back of his hand. “Hey, rock god. Johnny asked you a question. Are you going to answer it or are you going to sit there and fantasize about your elf girlfriend all day?”

“She’s just a friend, Sonia. At least she was,” murmured Daniel.

“Yeah, and I’m your mother,” said Sonia sarcastically before scooting next to him and placing her thick arm around his shoulders. It wasn’t as tender as Raven’s, but it would have to do. “Raven doesn’t want to see the bigger picture here. Of course Roger is going to attack whoever the hell he wants. He’s going to keep doing it until his wing-nut beliefs are satisfied. Wouldn’t you at least like to see him before he pulls this shit again?”

Daniel’s expression changed from bitter disappointment to enraged confidence. His eyebrows were furrowed, his frown was intimidating, and his muscles tensed. “Let’s do this shit! I’ll even send Roger’s chopped off dick and balls to Raven as a Valentine’s Day present.” He then looked sexily at Sonia and said, “Or maybe I’ll give them to someone even more special.”

“Oh, Daniel!” said Sonia as she kissed Daniel on his cheek and patted him on the back. “Come on, Johnny, let’s go.”

Sitting cross-legged, the giant wrestler looked down at his lap and said, “You know I would, but I can’t stand up right now.”

“TMI, Johnny! TMI!” shouted Sonia. Daniel on the other hand was laughing his ass off.

Demon Axe, Chapter 9

“Daniel! March your butt right back here! Now! Open your goddamn ears for the first time in your life! Get back here, you big baby! Come on! Move it!” None of these energetic threats from Raven could slow down the clomping thuds of Daniel Mercer’s boots. Determined that his newfound “weapon” was still just at toy, the rock god marched back to the portal to the “real world”.

“You can run away all you want to, but Roger is eventually going to hunt your ass down!” shouted Raven, who was floating through the portal space with him. “And then what will you do? Are you just going to give up? Are you going to kneel before the same son of a bitch who murdered your friends in cold blood?!”

Daniel was more distracted by his own angry thoughts than he was by the colors and wavelengths of the portal world. Raven’s words snapped him out of it and earned her a vicious glare from a stone face. “Be angry all you want!” she said. “But if you don’t channel that anger towards bringing justice to your friends and your audience, then you’re just a heavy metal hypocrite.”

“You want to know what a real hypocrite is, Raven?!” roared Daniel. “A hypocrite is someone who has an entire army of soldiers to hunt down one guy, yet still claims to be powerless to do anything about it! Your father is a typical politician: full of empty promises and full of bullshit! Who the hell voted for him to be king?! Seriously, what is he doing with all of those soldiers?! Are they just a bunch of paper-pushers with medieval weapons?!”

The allies were so busy bickering that they failed to realize that they had been shot out of the portal and onto the grassy field of the outdoor arena a.k.a. “the real world”. They stood back up (without each other to lean on) and dusted the grass blades and dirt off of their clothes.

Raven shoved her finger in Daniel’s face and said, “Listen to me, you fucking jerk! I don’t ever want to hear you talk about my father like that again! Some things are out of his control, but he knows exactly what he’s doing by sending you out to fight Roger Zee. Whether you like it or not, you represent this human world. You have its entire weight on your shoulders. If you humans don’t learn to help yourselves, then nobody else can help you either. This is my father’s way of teaching you pathetic humans self-reliance! If you can update your fucking Twitter page, you can goddamn jolly-well learn to catch a terrorist!”

Daniel leaned closer to Raven so that they were face-to-face and said in a hushed, yet angry tone, “There’s a huge difference between self-reliance and complete abandonment. Not only is Roger Zee a product of YOUR society, but the only thing I have to fight him with is…” He swung his “magical” axe microphone in the air and sprinkled more gold dust around. “Tell me how any of this is supposed to make sense!”

“When was the last time any tragedy in this world made sense?” asked Raven rhetorically. “When was the last time that a zealot thought rationally about what he or she was doing? Sometimes things don’t make sense at first, Daniel. Sometimes the best answer to all of this is there are just too many assholes out there. But you…you make more sense than a lot of people from your culture, and that’s saying a lot given your affinity for drugs and alcohol.”

“Then riddle me this, Batman,” said Daniel. “How exactly is a stage prop supposed to slash the head off of someone who can do the same thing to me with just a flick of his fucking wrist?”

“That’s the million dollar question, Mr. Lord of the Pit!” said a gravelly, demonic voice only a few feet away from the conversers. Daniel and Raven looked at each other fearfully and gulped saliva before slowly turning their necks to see that the voice belonged to an enslaved Johnny Vega, his partner Sonia Marquez flanking him. They stood there with arms folded, muscles thumping, veins protruding, eyes glowing, and teeth bared.

Raven took notice of the crowns of thorns on the assailants’ heads. “These wrestlers don’t know what they’re doing. The Order of the Spider once used those crowns to glean information from prisoners. Roger has found a way to use them for complete mind control.”

Daniel patted Raven on the back and said, “Well, Mrs. Warrior Princess, this is your cue then. You’re the only one between the two of us with an actual weapon, so why don’t you just…”

Raven was knocked backwards so far that she rolled across the grass field, all because of a flying martial arts kick from Sonia Marquez, who proceeded to crack her knuckles after such an accomplishment. Daniel trembled as he watched his ally holding her stomach and gasping desperately for air. Sonia mockingly patted him on the shoulder and said in a succubus-like voice, “Well, what are you waiting for, honey-bunny? Why don’t you try that new weapon of yours on me? I promise I won’t bite…hard!”

Daniel looked down at his “toy” and gripped the handle with a warrior’s resolve. His trembling of fear turned to trembling of anger. He glared with deadliness into Sonia’s demonic eyes and said, “Die, you motherfucker, die!” With reckless abandon, he hacked and slashed with his magical axe like a battle-hungry berserker. He slashed at her neck, arms, ribs, and legs while screaming every swear word imaginable until his veins burst like dynamite sticks. By the time his vicious attack was over, he doubled over in exhaustion and wheezed hard while spitting acidic bile onto the grass.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to be nice to your toys?” said Sonia, who didn’t have a single scratch on her, not even a small bruise of sorts. She stood with her arms folded and her smile arrogant. Daniel on the other hand whimpered so gently that Johnny Vega couldn’t help but give him a “comforting” shoulder squeeze.

“It’s alright, you big baby girl,” said Johnny in a mocking bass voice. “It’s not your fault that you hit like a two-year-old…or cry like one. You probably should have brought a gun with you of some kind. But then again, those are big boy toys and you’re just a little bitty baby. Maybe you should have one of those rifles with a wooden cork at the end of it.”

Sonia and Johnny were laughing it up in their monstrous voices while Raven was squirming on the ground like a snail, trying to get back into this battle, but hurting badly. She was the only one who had true fighting experience and she was easily vanquished. Daniel didn’t think he had a chance in the world. To him, this was truly a shitty way to die. He didn’t know what the minions were going to do to him, but it probably would have involved a shattered skull or a snapped spinal cord. Hearing them laugh about it brought angry tears to Daniel’s eyes.

The Lord of the Pit grit his teeth hard as he thought about Roger secretly laughing about slaughtering his band mates. The trauma of their severed heads came rushing back to him, the voices blaming him for being a failure and running away in cowardice. His adrenaline was heating up like molten steel. His muscles twitched and ached. His heart felt like a bomb vest ready to explode. With one final outburst, Daniel yelled, “Shut the fuck up!” into the microphone like the true heavy metal god he was.

The sound waves of the throaty growl knocked Sonia and Johnny back like human cannonballs. Their crowns of thorns showed small cracks in them as well. Everybody on that battlefield good or evil showed shock on their faces with wide eyes and deep breaths. “Holy shit,” said Daniel softly.

The initial shock wore off and was replaced with vitriolic, passionate fire from the Lord of the Pit. Instead of imagining his band mates as floating heads, he imagined them as full bodies, in their costumes and masks, playing behind him like they were at a concert. Vulture Man strummed his guitar like a wild motherfucker. Pig Man slapped his bass guitar like a pimp who was owed money. G-Pac bashed the drums and symbols with enough anger to put dents into them.

“Alright, motherfuckers!” the Lord of the Pit shouted into the microphone yet again. “You want a battle? Here’s a war!” That last word was prolonged with a raspy roar as he imagined the grinding music in the background. The louder Daniel yelled, the tighter everybody around him gripped their ears in pain. He wasn’t even singing a real song; it was just a firestorm of hateful, disgusting swear words from “cocksucker” to “motherfucker” to “prison bitch” to “Jesus Christ”.

The sound waves from the microphone blew past everyone like a hurricane and smashed their eardrums like G-Pac on his kit. The crowns of thorns formed more cracks. And more. And more. Then the artifacts of control shattered like glass and blew away in the heavy metal tornado. Johnny and Sonia’s heads were bleeding, but not profusely and they were still awake. Raven was shaking her ears with her fingers, trying to get the buzzing out. The Lord of the Pit looked around at what he had done and dropped his microphone in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said.

Demon Axe, Chapter 8

Right under their noses. It was a cliché expression, but one that couldn’t have been more true for Daniel and Raven. The portal to the elven world was right under the destroyed bronze statue of King Arthur Triscloud himself. Most audience members and even the bands themselves thought this was just a pretty decoration. Seeing sacrilegious treatment of her father’s centerpiece brought a scowl to Raven’s face. She nevertheless took Daniel’s hand like they were going on a date, to which the Lord of the Pit was sweating bullets. The elf warrior drew her blade, stuck it in the statue’s receptacle, and opened a beautifully-colored blue portal that sucked the two of them in.

Traveling through this portal was like floating in zero gravity. It relaxed Daniel’s stressed out body while Raven remained stoic and brave during transit. Seeing such vibrant shades of blue and being able to taste them reminded Daniel of that acid flashback he had been promised earlier. He even saw a purple breeze blowing through this dark blue netherworld, which left him in an even bigger state of awe. Waves and shapes assaulted his mind and left him feeling peaceful, no trace of trauma or heartache to speak of.

When the duo finally crossed over to the elven world, Daniel still believed he was high on drugs. Just like the portal, the skies were lovely shades of dark blue and purple. The ivory white buildings were twisted like lovely seashells. The roads were paved with silver. The trees and foliage in between buildings and roads were strewn with vibrant, rainbow-like colors. Elf children played in the streets with so much happiness. Elf adults went about their business whether it was blacksmithing, selling fruits and vegetables, or grooming cuddly creatures like horses, cats, and dogs.

“Tell me again how your world was conquered and devastated by the humans,” said Daniel sarcastically.

“Trust me, Daniel, it took us a long time to relocate and rebuild after such an atrocity. The only reason the elven world looks this good is because we managed to hide ourselves for so long. By getting his views on television, Roger Zee has done more harm than good when it comes to us staying hidden in the underground,” said Raven. She took Daniel’s hand once more and said, “Come on. Let’s go see the king.”

As the two of them walked down the street together, this very much was feeling like a date to the heavy metal singer. Sure, they hardly knew each other, but the life of a rock star always meant fast relationships and even faster women. Under ordinary circumstances, Daniel wouldn’t have been so sweaty and jittery. But this was an elf woman. This was the kind of woman he fantasized about when playing D&D as a teenager. He never in his wildest dreams imagined it would come to fruition. But what was he thinking? He was getting too far ahead of himself.

The king’s castle was even lovelier to look at than the rest of the city and that was saying something. Crystalline light blue walls, a golden arch holding the double doors together, the spiral-like towers on all four corners, the emerald dragon statue staring down at the city with a wizened gaze, a castle truly fit for an elven king. The two leather armor-wearing, poleax-wielding guards nodded at Raven before letting her and Daniel inside.

The stained glass decorations, the diamond-like dragon heads on the walls, the soft red carpeted floors (which were comfortable enough to sleep on), all of these led the way to King Arthur Triscloud’s throne in the back of the castle. He was a marvel to behold with his lavish red robes, golden crown encrusted with amethysts, spectacles resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose, his massive blade by his side, wrinkled skin, and lengthy white beard hanging down his chin. His smile was warmer than a tropical breeze when he greeted his daughter and her new charge.

“Thank you for bringing this young man into our world, dearest daughter,” said King Triscloud. “The two of you look like you’ve been through some battles together. But it’s nothing our healers and witchdoctor’s can’t fix.” From out of the shadows, two healers dressed in silky white robes approached Raven and Daniel with baskets of herbs, leaves, and oils. They removed their makeshift bandages and allowed the healers to close their wounds with pasted leaves. The sting of the liquid forced Daniel to wince and drop an F-bomb, but his wounds were sealed over nicely, as well as Raven’s.

“Listen, Mr. Triscloud,” said Daniel. “Your daughter here tells me that she brought me here because you think I’m actually capable of taking down this Roger Zee asshole who’s been cutting up people left and right. Here you are with this army of elves, most of them at least partially trained in combat, yet you want me, a guy with no fighting experience, to do battle with this lunatic. I’ve tried to explain this to Raven here, but she won’t budge. Please talk some sense into your own flesh and blood.” That last remark earned him a backhanded smack in the arm from Raven.

King Triscloud chuckled heartily before saying, “Yes, we do have some of the finest warriors at our disposal, but violence alone is not enough to bring down Roger. He was part of an elite group of soldiers known as The Order of the Spider. Most of these warriors died in our conflict with the humans. Roger survived. Over time he became bitter and disgusted with society in general. He blames humans for desecrating our holy grounds, but at the same time, he blames us for perceived softness and commitment to sinful magic. I trusted him with my life. In turn, he became just as hostile as our invaders.”

“Well, it is nice to know that he’s doing this for a reason and not just because he’s a random asshole,” said Daniel with his hands on his hips. “But what does that have to do with me? What did I do to him that was so disrespectful to his rightwing craziness?”

“He hates artistic endeavors. Your music and your homage to dark magic are both symbols of individuality. Roger wants the world to conform to one nation. He’s no different from any extremist you see on your television sets. Individuality and free thought are both poison to a conformist society. That’s why Roger wants to hunt you down. That’s why you are the only one who can stop him. You’re not going to stop him with fighting skills alone. You’re going to do it through your creativity,” said Arthur.

Daniel made a flat tire noise and shook his head before saying, “You do realize that music doesn’t actually do anything, right? It’s nice to listen to and it gets a lot of people through their days, but how is any of this supposed to stop a guy with a fucking machete?”

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Mercer,” said Arthur. “In your escape from Roger’s mass murders, you left behind something of value to you and your cause.”

“Oh, now you’re mocking me for leaving my band mates to get slaughtered by this moron?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant at all!” said the king as he held up his hands defensively. “I’m talking about something entirely different. You want to use music as a weapon? Now you can.” From his robes, Arthur pulled out the battleaxe microphone that Daniel used during the concert. It was now glowing with a golden aura, had crosses and symbols engraved on it, and had the faces of the slain Demon Axe members infused into the blade.

The Lord of the Pit gazed at his microphone with wide eyes, like he had just eaten a bag of psychedelic mushrooms. He slowly approached the king, who held out the microphone in the palms of both hands for Daniel to take. The singer stood back and swung the makeshift axe around, which left a trail of gold dust in its wake. Just when it looked like he was completely hypnotized by this artifact, he said, “Wait a minute,” and tried to use the plastic blade as a weapon on his wrist. No cuts. No wounds. No nothing. Just gold dust. Lots of lots of gold dust.

“Okay, you do realize that this microphone is just a prop and isn’t a real weapon, right? How the hell do you expect me to slash the shit out of Roger Zee with a piece of fucking plastic? His machete, on the other hand, is very fucking real! I might as well have gotten my microphone from Toys R Us!” shouted Daniel.

“Mr. Mercer, that’s not how you use the microphone,” explained Arthur.

“Oh really? Then what am I supposed to do with it? Sprinkle a whole bunch of fairy dust on him? Is he allergic to fairy dust now? Does he have any other allergies I should be aware of? Peanuts? Plants? Animal fur? Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Raven pleaded, “Daniel, just let him explain what it’s for and then…”

“Explain?!” roared Daniel. “What is there to explain?! It’s a fucking toy! Your wise, loving, all-powerful king gave me a fucking toy to do battle with a goddamn zealot! Anything else would have been better! A lead pipe, a BB gun, even a fucking pocket knife would have been better than this toy! I told you time and time again, Raven, Demon Axe’s gimmick is just that: a gimmick! Dark magic is about as fake as Hollywood tits! It was a motivational tactic, that’s all it was!” He turned to Arthur and shouted, “Thanks for sending me up shits creek without a fucking paddle! You’re a great politician! Hell, you can’t be any worse than that idiot with the fake hair! Fuck this, I’m out of here! Thanks for bringing my toy back!”

Daniel marched out of the castle with Raven following closely behind and pleading with him to stay. Arthur could be heard in the background grunting, “You stupid, selfish, silly man!” The Lord of the Pit ignored him and continued storming through the elven world. With any luck, he could pawn his microphone and travel somewhere that wasn’t infected with terrorism or extreme violence of any kind. He’d have to do some research and apply for a visa, but even living in the dankest, darkest parts of Africa was better than fighting Roger Zee with a piece of glowing plastic.