The death metal band Moloch had been making quite a name for itself. Sold out shows. Accolades from all the notable music media. Even a Grammy nomination. One thing that was different about Moloch’s rise to the top was that it was not motivated by money or status or even art. It was motivated for the express purpose to plunge the planet into a nightmare of chaos and pain.
As Boston was turning itself inside out with fire and panic, Balthazar Treason (lead vocals) sat comfortably with the other three members of Moloch within the luxurious confines of the Fifteen Beacon hotel drinking wine that was bottled before any of them were born. Balthazar reflected on that fateful meeting that the band had with Mr. Dionysius two years previous. All of the band members agreed to the terms. None of them were quite prepared to witness what they had unleashed on the world.
Their trance-like state was interrupted with a knock on their hotel room door. Marcus de Spazz (bass), a portly young man with a shaved head, stood up slowly and opened the door. The lights in the room dimmed slightly as Mr. Dionysius, slithered into the room. He was impeccably dressed, and his face was plastered with a reptilian grin. He was carrying a jet-black cell phone on a silver plate.
“Good evening, boys. Great show, great show. So great, in fact, that our Employer wishes to speak with you.” Dionysius snaked over to Balthazar and extended the plate with an exaggerated gesture of politeness. Balthazar hesitantly reached for the cell phone. He had never spoken with the Employer before, and he was slightly nervous.
“Y-yes? This is Balthazar.” He cringed ever so slightly when he heard the Employer’s voice. It reminded him of their music video for their single “Expunge” where the band had to fill their mouths with thick black Karo syrup.
“Balthazar…so good to finally speak with you. Well done in Boston. I understand we’re positively killing,” The Employer followed his statement up with a metallic, hacking laugh that made Balthazar cringe once more, “Listen. I need you and your boys to head up north, to Rhode Island. There’s a small problem that could turn into a big one if something is not done. Dionysius will have some new material ready for you. He insisted that we keep this on the down low, but since you boys are officially on the payroll, I thought I’d let you in on the plan. You’ll be summoning the Omniphage,” Balthazar thought about asking about the Omniphage, but the Employer anticipated him, “The Omniphage is a dear friend of mine. He’ll take care of this little speed bump on our world tour.”
“Yes, sir.” Was all Balthazar replied.
“Great. Take care boys. And keep up the good work.” The conversation ended, and Balthazar handed the phone back to Dionysius.
“Hey, D? What’s a…an omelet face?” A series of high pitched giggles wormed their way out of Dionysius’s mouth.
“You mean Omni-phage. Oh, that’s too funny. You’ll see soon enough. Just play the show that I book you.”
“Okay. Cool.” Balthazar took a few steps to the window and stared blankly down at the streets. Flames were consuming cars, food stands, buildings, and people. He hadn’t expected his music career to be built on the blood of innocents. Better theirs than his, he thought absently. Better theirs than his.
