Choosers of the Slain!






(copyright Chillerpop)

He had a carefully styled beard, horn rimmed glasses, a beret and an affected vintage shirt, but his most notable accessory at the moment was the cheap tin fork sticking out of the back of his bloody hand.

The hipster had committed no crime other than trying to make conversation with Sister Lucretia Dismas, who was enjoying a 10 a.m. plate of cheese fries and a shot of patron accompanied by a Belgian lager. But the nun, who considered Rudy’s Bar & Grill on 44th her office, could not take his officious yammering, his thinly veiled condescension and wonder at her being a nun in a bar, his annoying opinions on fashion, film, fat people, religion, music, and his own looks, opinions she neither asked for nor engaged.

When she had enough, with reflexes born of years of fighting crime and supernatural menaces, the nun picked up her fork and put an end to his prattling.

She saw no need to disguise her satisfied smirk as, blubbering, he was escorted out by Tim the bartender. Resuming his place behind the bar, Tim eyed Sister Lucretia nervously. Tim was 250 lbs. Tim had done time.

Tim was afraid.

“Another plate. And woe betide you, Tim, if these fries are undercooked slabs. French cut with olive oil.  Don’t make me fucking repeat myself,” Sister Dismas said in a voice of pure steel.

At 10:37 am the Belgian lager kept washing down her throat.  She asked Tim for another one.  Her mind was on her work, even as the warmth of the beer flushed her brain. She kept thinking of the two things NYPD officer Gil Simmons told her last Friday after mass.

‘You’d be throat punching me if you thought  I was wasting your time.’ 

She nearly did throat punch him.  Washington State was humid, empty of architectural charm.  But now, thanks to that and the other thing Simmons whispered to her –

‘..The Fenris Working…’

– she had no choice.

She didn’t much care about Simmons’ white trash cousin and her choices to get involved with violent Neo Nazis.  That wasn’t her purview.  But that last sentence?  It was rare that something gave her pause like that.

Sighing, she opened the Manila folder before her and began re-reading the police file:


S.N.O.T.R.A. was formed in 2008, and has since become the most notorious band in the ‘Hatecore’ scene of violent Neo-Nazi hardcore punk rock.  They are notable for being an all-female band, as well as for the level of bloody violence at their shows, including five murders and a race riot at a state fair in Idaho.  Several people associated with the band, including their former bassist, have disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

S.N.O.T.R.A., like many other Neo-Nazi musicians and music, are part of the more racist, violent ‘Odinist’ or ‘Asatru’ religious movements (it should be noted not all Asatru are racist).  Their members (see dossier on all the individuals) have taken the names of Germanic/Norse goddesses and characters, and consider themselves ‘Valkyries for a new Ragnarok’:

Brynhildr Stab – bassist
Angerboda – lead guitarist
Hela Bleed – drummer
Volla Spit – lead singer

Police investigations have uncovered that attendees at the shows report a ‘frenzy,’ a feeling of possession inciting them to war and destruction.  Drug use is rampant at S.N.O.T.R.A. concerts, and the band  has urged followers to ‘purge’ skinheads of the “straight-edge” or Christian persuasions from the audience.


There are few records of Doreen Andersen, aka Volla Spit, available prior to her arrests at the onset of the formation of S.N.O.T.R.A. 

The rock and roll press has described her as “G.G. Allin in a K-Mart mumu” due to some of her more scatologically vile stage performances.  S.N.O.T.R.A‘s performance at the Idaho State Fair in 2007 reputedly involved her ingestion of  deadly levels of PCP and crystal meth.  Prison inmates with whom she has had violent clashes have spoken of her almost preternatural agility of movement when fighting, surprising given her morbid obesity.
Noted ACLU attorney Dennis Fleck has managed to win astounding victories for his client…

The nun breathed deep, and ordered another shot from Tim.  She despised renting cars and cross-country drives, but she would need heavy artillery for this mission, nothing that would pass airport security. Especially if, as Gil said, this involved the Fenris Working.

She tossed back the shot with a mental supplication to her patron saint, and then got up to go to Washington state and beat the seven hells out of ACLU attorney Dennis Fleck, for a start.

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