Chapter Text
“My Lord, the U.N. is on hold for you, they’re requesting a video conference. Your meeting with Crystal Mountain is in four hours, and I need your approval to finalize the designs for the Somalia concert.”
He could see the strain around the man’s eyes increase, a tightness to his lips. He was new, but one of the first things he’d figured out without being told were the subtle cues Offdensen gave when a migraine was starting to get to him.
“Would you like me to take over anything my Lord?” he asked, concerned even though he’d seen the man work through much worse.
Charles shook his head, taking a deep breath to compose himself, “No, ah, thank you 528. Be prepared to reschedule the meeting with Crystal Mountain if the U.N. conference goes long.”
“Yes, sir,” his assistant was loyal and unquestioning as ever. As they should be.
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“I understand your concerns,” Charles placated, “but there’s only so much I can do to progress the record at this time.”
“Well then do it!” someone shouted, from one of the Asian seats Charles thought.
“Of course,” Charles assured, “As soon as this meeting concludes I will be talking with Dethklok about this next record and how,ah, quickly they think they can complete it. With any luck we should have a time frame worked out for you in the next week.”
“You’d better. The world is counting on this album.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it done,” he promised, hand moving rapidly to hit the end call button.
Charles turned, one hand gripping the desk for support as he gagged. He sat slowly, deep breaths shaking out as he rested his head in his hands. His assistant turned the lights down without a word before coming to stand silently nearby, ready for whatever he might be needed for. The manager sat, unmoving, for a long time. Breaths came even and steady now as he focused, trying to put himself in the mindset needed to get through this.
Charles had gotten very good at dealing with high stress situations on such a constant basis that typically he was able to handle them with ease and grace, but recent events had been pushing him to his limits. He had a threshold, like anyone, and just because his was higher didn’t mean it didn’t exist. As it was, the almost non-stop drama the band had been causing lately, both in the media and in the political arena, plus their almost complete refusal to work on the album was enough to push Charles to the edge of what he could handle stress wise. He wasn't certain when his last migraine free day had been, but at this point he was fairly certain he was owed a respite.
So far the band didn’t know. Charles didn’t want to worry his boys, especially over something he knew he could handle.
“My Lord,” 528 paused, uncertain, one hand reaching out to comfort. He knew that wasn’t what the man wanted though and lowered his hand, feeling guilty even though he knew Offdensen preferred it this way. “The Dethjet is ready to take you to your meeting with Cornickelson,” he finished lamely.
“Thank you 528,” he sounded earnest as he stood and walked out, head up and eyes forward. 528 could still see the pinched look, even in the dim light, and he hated it.
Offdensen seemed determined to pretend none of it ever happened though, so his assistant had to follow suit.
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Unfortunately for Charles the meeting with Damien Cornickelson wasn’t going much better than his talk with the U.N. had. He was more irritated by the man than anything, but his intense hate for Dethklok was starting to look like it might impact the new album, and that was something Charles hadn’t been entirely prepared to deal with. He was used to people bowing to the whims of his boys. The whole world knew how important Dethklok was, and for Cornickelson to be attempting to block them on something as globally important as this album, Charles was ready to murder the little weasel and be done for the day. He couldn’t though, and so the pain behind his eyes became more insistent as their meeting stretched on.
After the third hour of arguing pointlessly with the man Charles’ migraine had intensified to the point that it was starting to become clearly obvious that something was wrong. 528 slid himself smoothly into the conversation as Offdensen uncharacteristically faltered.
“Perhaps we should schedule another meeting for tomorrow,” he suggested to Cornickelson. “We need time to think about the different options you’ve given us,” he scoffed inwardly, like they’d really been given any options. The entire meeting had been a bullshit waste of time, and his master was suffering needlessly from it. He just hoped he could get Offdensen out before the migraine got too intense. He knew how much the man valued his professional appearance and nothing that came with the more severe migraines was at all professional or pleasant.
Damien thankfully agreed to another meeting the next day, and 528 managed to get his master out without anyone realising what state he was in. Offdensen was an impressive actor, and kept a calm controlled look until they were back in the Dethjet at which point his legs gave out and he curled tightly into himself on the floor of the aircraft. His assistant got him up onto one of the bench seats at the back of the jet and lowered the lights without missing a beat.
528 went to the jets medkit and rummaged around until he found the strongest pain killer in it, sadly only a bottle of aspirin. He returned to his master with a handful of pills and a bottle of guitaraid. The man hadn’t drunk anything since before his U.N. call, and 528 was reasonably concerned that he might be dehydrated at this point.
Charles was barely aware as pills and liquid were poured into his mouth, fingers stroking firmly down the length of his throat until he’d swallowed it all. He allowed himself another moment to curl up in agony, fingers gripping tightly into his hair, breath coming in harsh shaky gasps as the pain continued to mount.
“I-I, ah, need you to call the boys,” he managed, voice coming in a soft pained whisper, “Tell them we’re having a band meeting as soon as I’m back.”
“Sir,” 528 faltered again. He knew how determined the man was to ignore this, to keep pushing on, but 528 could no longer ignore the state he was in. “No sir, I’m sorry but I won’t be doing that. When we get back to Mordhaus you need to rest,” he stated firmly.
“That isn’t an option right now,” Charles countered, mind swimming with all he still needed to accomplish today.
“I think it may be your only option, sir,”
Charles looked up at that. Insubordination was not something he could afford to tolerate in the current global climate, even if it was for his own benefit. “528,” he asked, cold and serious, “are you refusing an order?”
“If it means letting you kill yourself, then yes, yes I am,” the man answered confidently.
Charles sighed, deep with exhaustion both physical and emotional, “Then I’m very sorry 528, but your services will no longer be required,” before he could even consider talking himself out of it Charles drew his gun and shot his assistant directly in the head. The man dropped with a loud thud, and Charles heaved violently over the edge of the bench, finally pushed past his pain tolerance by the gunshot ringing in his ears.
Room temperature Guitaraid and about fifteen aspirin spurted from parted lips, splattering with the blood now spreading out across the floor. Without much thought Charles fumbled for his phone and called the next ranking klokateer informing the man of his new position as his assistant and asking him to have a clean up crew and some oxycodone ready when the jet landed. With this done Charles allowed himself a brief moment of weakness, curling back into himself with a quiet sob as the intense pain continued to radiate through him. As soon as he had the painkiller he’d get back to it. He had to.