With nonexistent steam pouring from his ears, Øystein had been angrily pacing back and forth in the house with the kitchen landline phone glued to his ear, every word spewed from his mouth breaking through the reception like blades of a boxcutter.

Due to an emergency, Jørn had randomly decided to go visit his distant family over in Argentina. Him & Øystein had gotten into a heated argument over his sudden departure, resulting in Jørn draining Øystein's savings for the trip.

To top it all off, Mayhem had a very important gig coming up. Øystein was so desperate for a new bassist that he'd been dialing every poser in the local music zines, fuming at the commonly fearful rejections of performing with Mayhem. His hair was practically falling out at this point, especially from to the amount of arguing he'd done with Jan and Pelle these past few days.

Jan would've sat still on the sofa, staring straight ahead with an irritated expression as he tried to ignore Øystein's nonstop talking over the phone & heavy footsteps.

Meanwhile, Pelle was roaming through an abandoned warehouse in East Oslo. It was hot & bustling with people who had no business being there. Pelle's steps were slow, his eyes tracing over every big cage as he stared through every rugged, bound individual he came across. He had 2000 kroner and a dream. Something freaky; a reject that he could use as a guinea pig for his deranged ideas.

Pelle froze when he saw you. You were only 1,000 kroner in a lone cage, with an ear tag labelling you a 'defect.' Your skinny tail was tied around your retracted knees, providing a feigned layer of safety as you were glued to distant cage bars.

Without telling anyone, Pelle walked you to the henhouse on a leash. There, you were greeted with the strong stench of decay, dried blood, & the sound of Øystein yelling over the phone. He spewed on about them being useless, 'missing out' on his offer, and wasting the time of someone much more important than themselves. Pelle didn't react to it, closing the door.