Chapter Text
San Francisco Bay Area, Earth, 1982.
It was the promising site of a new metal supergroup, but progress was being thwarted by a small group of rebels. A team of diplomats were sent from Homeworld to investigate. Among those was Lars, a drummer, an aristocratic high-ranking thrasher, with the power to see into the future. Assigned to him were three guitarists, common soldiers, with a mission to protect and guard him. Of course, being rowdy 19- to 22-year-old boys fresh from chugging a tad too much beer, things got pretty fucked pretty quick.
“Hammer of Justice, fuck yeah!!” Bob jeered, poising his hammer above James’ head.
“Lame!” James scoffed, strutting off to the side.
“My weapon is obviously the best!” he bragged, summoning his sword and sticking his tongue out at Bob and Chris.
“But can you do THIS??” Chris sneered, summoning his gauntlet and slamming his fist forcefully into the ground. Cracks blossomed around and beneath their feet as the ground beneath them trembled and shook, taking all three out of their obnoxious stupor.
Oh shit... James thought, wondering if sooner or later, the earth would split open and swallow them whole. He held his breath as he watched the cracks dance around Lars’ feet. The drummer still walked on ahead calmly, humming a little tune, as if oblivious to the madness going on around him. How the FUCK can he be so calm when the planet’s gonna shatter into tiny pieces cuz of Chris’ punch?! ...Wait, is that even possible??
After what seemed like an eternity of tensely waiting for the shaking to stop and the cracks to stop growing, James finally had the chance to let out the breath he’d been holding for what seemed like a million years as the shaking subsided and the cracks stopped burrowing their way through the ground. Chris was the first one to break the silence with loud, hysterical laughter.
“Holy.... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! OOOOHHH MY GOD, OH MY--AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..!” Chris was on his knees, crying tears of laughter like he’d just witnessed the funniest thing.... ever.
“The fuck is your deal?!” Bob snapped as he whacked his fellow guard across the back of the head.
“I... I’M STRONGER THAN YOU DUMB FUCKS, YOU DUMB FUCKS!!!” Chris howled
“Betcha can’t cause an earthquake like I can, bitch!”
“You know what? You’re right!!” Bob shot back, glaring daggers into Chris’ gray eyes.
“HahahahahahaHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I KNEW YOU’D--” The asshat guitarist’s triumphant spiel was interrupted by Bob’s sharp, curt voice.
“Shut your whore mouth, Marshall. I can’t act like as much of a fucking jackass as you. Not to mention, I’m not too well versed in the art of being a fucking cunt.” Nice one, Bob. James thought with a slight chuckle as he watched the conflict escalate much like one would watch a soap opera. (theoretical popcorn)
“Yeah well, at least I don’t have a lame-ass hammer as a fucking weapon, Bob the Builder!!” Chris retorted, standing up and leaning in close to Bob’s face.
“Oooooooooohhhhh—” Bob growled as he clenched his fists, to which the sassy little soldier responded with an evil smirk and a tiny giggle.
“At least with a hammer, I can beat your fucking brains out till all that’s left of you is a tiny red splat of blood!” Bob growled, summoning his hammer with a smirk.
“You wanna bring it?” Chris challenged, cracking his knuckles.
“Fuck off, nerd.” Bob spat as he took a step forwards and shoved Chris forcefully in the chest with his hammer’s head. Chris went flying, and before James could get out of the way, Chris had already knocked into him.
“A-ah! W-whoa!! H-hey—!” he sputtered, trying and failing to regain his balance as he stumbled backwards and bumped into Lars. Shit. he thought, realizing what he did. James frantically straightened up and saluted the drummer he was serving with the metal horns.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to um.... let me—” Lars brushed his hair out of his face and looked at James with a sweet smile and sparkling green eyes.
“It’s okay. It was bound to happen.” he whispered with a slight giggle.
“Oh... alright then....” James mumbled, bowing his head in an attempt to hide his rapidly reddening face.
They continued walking to Dave’s palanquin in silence. When they were 5 feet away, Lars turned to his guards.
“Don’t pull any stupid shit while I attend to my duties, alright?”
They all saluted him and bowed their heads.
“Yes, sir.”
“Affirmative, Mr. Ulrich.”
“Got it, Lars.”
Lars walked to Dave’s palanquin and knelt down.
“My lord--”
“Dave will be enough.” Dave opened the curtain to his palanquin and looked down at the smaller drummer before him.
“Lars, tell me what will happen here.”
“I foresee the rebels attacking the area. Before they are cornered, they will kill 21 of your soldiers. Two of my guards will be slain by Cliff Burton, whilst I am killed by Kirk Hammett’s swords. And.... we’ll die a slow, painful death. Crumpled on the floor, we shall lay, waiting for the last drop of blood to desert each of us. Immediately after I am killed, the rebels will be captured. The rebellion ends here.”
“Very well.” Dave sighed from within his palanquin, relieved.
“Your service was much appreciated, Lars.”
“Thank you, my diamond.” Lars replied, bowing slightly.
“That will be all.” Lars was dismissed with two claps of his master’s hands. He walked back to his guards calmly. James, having overheard the conversation, was barely able to hold back tears.
“Y-you’re gonna die!! I can’t have that happen--” James cried, hugging Lars tightly.
“No, it’s fine.” Lars replied coolly, gently detaching James.
“But I’d be failing my job!! A-and I’ll miss you!! Not to mention, you’re pretty irreplaceable--”
“I know I’ll be a casualty, but I don’t care. I see my whole life laid out before me, and I’ve already accepted all of it. You should too.” Lars replied sternly, putting a hand up to silence James.
Hearing this drove James batshit crazy. Other than the fact that he’d basically be failing his job, the soldier had a special place in his heart for Lars. Though they would never be able to kiss, or hold hands for that matter, that didn’t stop James from wanting to change the future and keep Lars alive. If I die just to keep him alive, then that’s just fine...
He was shaken out of his thoughts by Cliff Burton’s yells.
“DAVE MUSTAINE, LEAVE THIS PLACE!! THIS SUPERGROUP WILL NOT BE COMPLETED, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT ALREADY!!!” James glanced behind him, and sure enough, there was Cliff Burton himself, descending gracefully onto a pillar. Beside him was Kirk Hammett, his terrifying renegade shredder, wielding two swords.
“We... are METALLICA!!!” Cliff and Kirk cried in unison, before leaping off the pillar and running towards Dave’s palanquin.
“Don’t let them win!” Dave commanded as a drove of mercenaries stampeded their way towards the rebels.
“You’re surrounded, Burton!” a soldier yelled.
“Surrender, you fucking traitors!” another hollered.
James dared to inch a little closer to where the rebels were standing. When he got close enough, he saw that indeed, Cliff and Kirk were trapped inside a circle of Dave’s strongest soldiers. The guard smirked and shook his head as the mob closed in around the rebels.
Cliff wasn’t phased in the slightest. He still had that determined face.
“Heh. Watch me.” he chuckled softly, summoning his shield.
SLASH!
SLICE!
SWOOSH!
The soldiers that had been surrounding the rebels seconds before were reduced to bloody shreds. Bob and Chris collapsed onto the ground, holding their chests as they waited for their inevitable death. Cliff was behind them, grinning triumphantly.
“Hey, Hammett!” he hollered.
“Yeah, Cliff?” Kirk rushed to the side of his partner in crime.
“Let’s get the pretty little princess next.” Cliff whispered.
Kirk nodded and sprinted off, eyes locked on his next target: Lars.
“Hey! Leave him alone, asswipe!” James growled as he tried to block Kirk’s way. Kirk simply grabbed James’ arm and threw him to the side with a parting spit.
The blonde soldier painfully got back up onto his feet, face and hands dirty and scratched. No, I can’t give up. Summoning his sword, he made a lunge for Kirk’s head.
“Oh, silly, silly, silly.” Kirk sneered as he whipped around to knock James’ sword out of his hands with his own blade, cutting James’ forehead in the process. Shit. Fuck. FUUUCKK! James thought as he looked at Lars, teary eyed as Kirk leapt up into the air, swords poised to kill.
“Thank you, James. You did your best.” Lars said with a small smile, before looking up calmly at his killer to give him the same sweet smile. Everything is going according to my vision. he thought.
He already knew I was gonna fuck up, thought James as his tears began to cascade down his cheeks. He’s already accepted it.
James shook his head as he wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his uniform coat. I can’t fail him. I love him. I’ve loved him from the second we met. I can’t let him die. I won’t let him die.
And so, just as Kirk’s swords were inches from ripping into the drummer’s sides, James interfered.