The underground home was deceptively expansive. From the living room they were originally in, Ullia led them past several individual living areas that had been renovated from various electrical closets, valve rooms, and storage corners. Each nook looked unique with a mad man's mind of worn down furniture decorating them. Violating several safety codes as one may suspect.

  "Thee-se are Bobby's way of givin' some of the things he finds new life. Me and Drag usually do the decorating, but he's done one or two in his free time. We don't usually have guests, so sometimes we change up where we'd all rest... Bu-t, bu-t, don't think to much about that, ok?!"

  Intrusive thoughts naturally glided over Dark's mind.

  "Oh! Gotcha gotcha! Well... That's cool? I been sleeping in different spots lately myself... I mean... But anywho! There was the mention of food right?! I'm sure hungr... Interested! In what y'all got! Haha?!"

  Meager social skills mugged the air.

  "S-o-ounds good! Next, we have the kitchen luckily. I hope your lookin' forward to an unforgettable brunchin'!"

  The guided tour picked back up. Damp concrete floors lead the way, yet the sides of the halls transitioned into a smooth earthen finish. Similar to cob in its ability to be molded, built-in shelves and counters fused to the walls as if grown to be just so. Everything felt natural, welcoming even. Salvaged utensils and dining sets popped out from the hues of brown, a forever reminder of how unnatural things had become.

  Ullia clasped her hands in excitement.

  "Kit-tchen!"

  She started to open the fridge and pull out all kinds of leftovers.

  "I-I love cookin'! I try to cook all the meals. Sometimes, I get inspi..."

  KriCleKrKrKriCleCle!

  The knob on one of the doors at the end of the kitchen was vigorously being jiggled.

  A muffled and stern voice boomed behind the door.

  "...Fuuuuuuck!"

  The barrier to entry was then, promptly punted open with a forceful kick.

  "Mother fuckin' door! Shit fuck, open now arn't ya?!"

  There in the doorway, with several grocery bags lining her arms up to her broad shoulders, stood a taller-than-average woman.

  "Oh-oh-oh, welcome home Drag! We havin' guests this morning!"

  Drag had a similar, yet slightly darker, undead complexion as Mrs. Witches, though that's where the similarities ended. Her unkempt and wavy sangria dyed bob cut reflected the lady's personality along with very alive looking chestnut colored eyes. The curvy lady's attire also aligned with usual Texas weather: a highly breathable, low cut red jam tank top, jean shorts with several holes, and vibrant orange flip-flops with flamed designs. A raunchy ram tattoo could also be seen peeking from her fuppa.

  "Oh, welcome putas! Hey! Got groceries Ullia! Catch'em or your da' bottom bitch tonight!"

  Drag catapulted the hefty bags all at once towards with challenge in her energetic dead eyes.

  "H-hey!"

  Dark was close to Ullia and began to flinch as the projectiles flew their direction.

  Ullia vanished.

  Grey silent smoke shifted before him as groceries were sat at exact spots on the kitchen counter before a bolt of lightning flashed briefly in-between.

  "Oh-oh! Bad kitty! That's our sardines!"

  Ullia reappeared, holding a small package of Gorgon's Smoked Sardines.

  "Wait, what happened?!" Dark asked, baffled.

  "Your friend's fast, but I'm more precise... So-rry, he can have a few here in a moment, just be patient."

  "FOOST CORPSE PLUOT! FREND? MEOW?"

  Beanie Toe started rubbing his forehead against Ullia's shin, now in an attempt to get the food through persuasion.

  It worked.

  "Oh-oh! He's so cute! Here, just ask next time, ok? Greedy kitties become treaties."

  Beanie, oblivious to what was suggested, enjoyed his fishy snacks.

  "Thank you Ullia. Also, are those fajit..."

  Dark got interrupted.

  "Ulllllllia... That pussy got the can first! Yo the bottom bitch tonight! Hauh hauh!" Drag taunted, phantom flicking the bean.

  "Drag! Stop being so lewd!" Ullia protested flusteredly.

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  "Bah! You know you like that mierda! Hauh hauh!"

  In the blink of an eye, Ullia was behind Drag. A serrated knife pressed under her breast, ready to carve.

  "I said stop Drag..." Ullia said with a blank face.

  "Humf... Well fuck you too, was just teasin..."

  Brief tension chilled the air.

  Dark's artificial stomach growled.

  "So... like Beanie Toe would say: Food? Haha...."

  Ullia perked up with a smile as she lowered the blade from Drag's chest.

  "Oh-oh! Yes! We have fajitas, chili, various breakfast tacos, and much more! Anything you like!"

  Dark gave a thumbs up and smiled.

  "Thank you Ullia, you're awesome! I see ya got pickles and Worcestershire sauce as well, would it be cool if I used those?"

  "Er-um.. yes?! Anything you like!" She awkwardly repeated herself.

  "Sweet."

  Who needs to reheat food? Not when you're starving, and certainly not Darkgeek. Grabbing some tortillas and chicken fajitas, he slapped it all together and threw Worcestershire all over it as he devoured it, along with samples of everything present.

  Sustenance.

  Drag hung antisocial and left.

  "I'ma get a quickie in with Bobby before practice and re-up the sauce." She briefly flashed and tapped a black copper metal implant embedded on the back of her neck, holding a vibrant green oil gauge.

  "Later putas..."

  As she left, she punched one of the doors in frustration over something down the corridor.

  "Wow, She's A Firecracker!"

  "Cack! When did I unmute you Rawker?!" Dark choked, mid chugging some pickle juice out of a jar.

  "The Button Is More Of A Timer/Communication Tool. I've Been Good Though! In Fact, As Per Mr. Witches, We Have Exactly 18 Minutes Of The 40 Before Regrouping! Though, His Use Of 'Ish' Suggests A 5 Minute Buffer."

  "Ri-right! If y'all are done eating, let's quickly finish the tour!"

  Ullia hastily put up all the dishes and grabbed a chorizo egg taco for herself to eat along the way. Dark himself finished his vinegar drank and followed.

  A main bedroom, another living room, and even a garage housing Bobb's dump trucks was quickly shown before arriving at a set of double doors.

  "I-I hoped you liked the house tour. I have to get ready, but in 4 minutes, you can enter through these doors. Just a warnin': it will be loud..."

  "Uh, ok? Rawker can set a timer. Beanie, might want to fold your ears."

  "Yeppers!" his AI companion replied, as a bone-themed countdown graced his display.

  "KAY!" Beanie Toe meowed as he climbed into Dark's back crevice.

  "Go-ood! Bye!"

  Ullia disappeared in a blur of smoke before them, as she likely went through the door she was introduced at.

  Rawker whispered to Dark.

  "We Could Still Leave Diceil. We Need To Get Ready For Our Next Objective..."

  "I know Rawker, but... I've got a good feeling about what's in store for us behind these doors."

  A pounding sound began to beat behind the doors, followed by screeching and moaning. Something unpleasant was brewing.

  3 minutes left.

  Lights and heat leached through the edges of the doors as they awkwardly waited. Smells of sweat and shame wiggled in and out of Dark’s nostrils, unsure of the unholy actions taking place beyond the barrier.

  2 minutes.

  The acoustics crackled into a rhythmic and hectic machinery. A distinct voice began to speak, but it was muffled by the door. “Well’s full of beans?” Very unlikely that’s what’s being said, but curiosity was purring up his back.

  1 minute, close enough.

  Dark gripped the handles.

  A prickly feeling surged up his hands.

  Electricity was radiating through it, likely an effort to deter him from opening early.

  Clever.

  Yet, Rawker adapted the difference in current that flowed through the system. Dark pushed his pinky and thumb together: absorbing some of the energy, while grounding the excess.

  He flung the doors open as little zaps left his hands.

  Before them, was a hellish scene of all kinds of creatures and biobrid figures, thrashing against each other with limbs in the air.

  In the back of the large arena, a stage flashes with streams of white, purple, and green.

  Two figures are on display.

  Strums of a rough tuned electric guitar vibrate from the sides, as sparks flick behind the front being.

  The lights go pitch black.

  The lead opens his yellowed n' red eyes with intense stare from within the void, as he cracks his face into a green fluorescent hillbilly smile.

  Flames shoot out in rapid succession, casting ghastly shadows as the singer howls his first lyrics:

  "We are many... but all the same..."

  "Send us back to that space, unchanged..."

  "But one of us escaped..."

  "And Fueled By Hate!"

  "Hate!"

  "Hate!"

  "Deeply Wired Hate!"

  Crowds yearned for more.

  The guitarist turns up the disturbed chords as a dark green spectrum illuminates the lead.

  It's Bobb Witches.

  He begins flicking his arms out aggressively as he growls before the crowd and pops his collar up from his uniform.

  "It's this mother fucker!"

  "I got the keys to the cell!"

  "Kicking your smug face in!"

  "Till you fit through the needle's eye of hell!"

  SToMP!.

  SToMP!

  SToMP!.

  With each satanic slam of his boot on the stage, the lights flashed blotches of bloody red and white.

  A gallowed bass rhythmically bellowed from beneath as something rose behind in sync. Intense metal drumming shook the spectator's sternums.

  "Hate!"

  "Hate!"

  "Deeply Wired Hate!"

  "You caused this shit, you greedy lil' faggits!"

  "Life's lost, in the name of profit!"

  "And Here we are again, back to fuckin' maggots!"

  Witches jumped and slammed his feet against the stage with mic stand in hand.

  Blue flames burst up to a now fully lit stage as Bobb's calves fire off their cybernetic metal covers.

  Black gauge wire and steel chains licked live power against the stage wildly. Small animal skulls dangled from the ends, as their jaws clapped in excitement.

  "Under corpse of night, we burrow within!"

  "Those you forgot, back again!"

  "A new green flows, one you can't comprehend!"

  "A New Hate Begins!"

  The two other band members were now on full show..

  Drag was on strings, covered in viscous blood and dressed in layers of torn dresses and bare foot, grinning with madness.

  Ullia was the one rising in the back, on a rotating platform drum set of repurposed trash cans.

  She stared forward with no emotion, not even blinking. Her attire was a salvaged cosplay maid cafe dress, repaired by patches of blue jeans. A large house fly hair clip sold the outfit of a dead servant.

  As she rotated, her back was exposed, revealing 2 intertwined snakes of black metal copper that bubbled a ferrous green chemical.

  The 2 Mrs.Witches joined in, moaning and shrieking throughout the performance.

  "A New Hate! Stronger Than Ever!"

  "Dead? Reattach the member! Stable it back!"

  "Connect the tubes, drain the life! Keep up the fight!"

  "Wails of lost reason, that is our fate!"

  "Hate!"

  "Hate!"

  "Deeply Mired Hate!"

  At the end of their first song, Bobb called out Darkgeek.

  "This afternoon, we have guests my friends n' projects! Darkgeek! And his companions... Rawker, the AI revolution and his recluse cat, and I ain't saying his stupid name! He's not part of the family yet... So let's keep it that way for now... alright?"

  The lights flew across the crowd, but there was no shine upon their skin nor reflection in their eye.

  It was a horde of living dead fans.

  Grotestic cheers erupted.

  This garbage man has been busy building a zombie fandom for his, quite literally, underground band.

  Just by the first song, Dark was sold on their art. Like much of his playlist, this too needed to be passed down and preserved.

  Dark let out a loud shout and pitched his hands into the air:

  "Let's fuckin' rock!!!"

  For about an hour, the concert continued. Refreshingly new music filled his soul, as he let himself be part of the undead that was entranced by a trashy man's passion.

  Later on, once Bobb closed out practice and they all reconvened in the living room, he spoke with Dark.

  "Glad you enjoyed our... session. It's rare we get anyone alive down here..."

  Popping back his metal calf covers, Witches fiddled with his post-show cigarette between his lips.

  "I like ya Dark... you're a rare one, that's for sure... If ya ever need a place to hideout... You're welcome down here..."

  Dark crosses his leg as he reclined into the couch.

  "Thankya Bobb, I'll keep that in mind. I appreciate it. I..."

  "Just don't be bring no drama... Less you join the family... Understood?" Bobb interrupted.

  "I... gotcha. Welp... I gotta get going Witches, still alot to do."

  Bobb got up, ready to head to the kitchen.

  "You still... gonna take on that healthcare industry white collar?"

  Dark, not knowing how Bobb knew, simply replied.

  "Yes..."

  Witches slapped the side of the wall.

  "Good on you... Keep going simple man..."