Snippet #2423142

If there was one thing Cormac McMurphy was looking forward to, it was collapsing into one of those incredibly comfortable hotel queen-size beds and getting a few precious hours of blissful, deep slumber.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly the only thing he shoulda been lookin' forward to. After all, this was his first ever tour with a metal band, and he suspected the whole affair would differ quite a hell of a lot from touring with a punk band. Then again, to begin with Napalm Terror had never exactly toured-- they'd just gigged at various known squats in the region, or played a show in somebody's garage with a couple other small-time hardcore or crust bands. At each show, thirty attendees would have been a miracle to see-- any more than forty sweaty, pissed off punks beating the shit outta each other whilst the band played just a few feet away would have been nothing short of the shock of a lifetime. Cormy suspected somehow the crowd that this tour would be drawing would be just a little larger than that-- not that that made him anxious. Nope. No way. He had this shit. Just 'cause there were gonna be hundreds of people hearing him play didn't mean he had any reason to be nervous about it.

Come to think about it, why do I always end up with queen size beds at hotels? They do that for everybody, right? They don't just go all 'this dude looks like a queen, give him the queen size bed', do they? ... No, really, do they?

Oh, the quandaries of an Irish crust punk.




The quandaries of a rich musical virtuoso turned death metal bassist with glorious facial hair, as it turned out, were not quite as distressing a dilemma.

Jack St. Mark was not exactly a fan of the gym-- he figured Alex filled the band's 'could bench press the entire band' quota as well as the band's 'outrageously metal in appearance' quota. But seeing the way she relaxedly toted along her baggage like it was nothing, a stony expression on her face with no external signs of fatigue whatsoever, he was starting to think maybe, just maybe, it woulda been a good idea to occasionally pick up something heavy just for the fuck of it. Sure, he always made fun of the type'a folks who religiously attended the gym like if they missed a day they'd wilt into nothing ('hey guys watch me pick up the heavy thing and then put it down repeatedly!'), but there came a time in the life of the gigging musician where the faint hint of musculature gleaned from years of lugging around equipment was just not sufficient.

Jack finally managed to catch up with their intrepid leader, and he nodded gratefully as Liam held the door for him and Raisa and Alex, not far behind. As the four got their bearings together and stepped into the hotel, Liam, as always infinitely more aware of his surroundings than the bassist, pointed out, "Guess we weren't the first ones here."

"That so?" Jack mused curiously, setting down his assorted paraphernalia and turning in the direction Liam was looking to. Lo and behold, a metal band-- no doubt about that. If the equipment hadn't been there to seal the deal, the attire certainly would have implied this. Their backs were turned to Legion, so it was hard to really get a gauge of the lot of them-- in the middle was some fucking massive dude in a leather jacket (Alex's soul mate? Guy was certainly both well built and metal-looking enough), and around him was a significantly shorter dude who looked no less metal and no less brawny (Jesus, scratch that, this was Alex's fucking dream band right here); another significantly shorter dude who looked no less metal but sure as hell looked a lot less brawny; and an absolutely gorgeous woman who was neither particularly tall nor altogether burly by the looks of her.

What a motley bunch.

"They're Psychosis." Alex's quiet, unassuming voice interrupted Jack's sagely observations, and the bassist raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how you have ascertained this information, O Lord of Fevers?" he retorted smugly, eliciting the vaguest hint of a smile from the guitarist. "I made a point of giving all the bands we're touring with a listen, O humblest of servants," she replied, amusement evident in her green eyes. "Perhaps you should try that next time we tour with other bands."

"Ha!" Jack gave an exaggerated bark of laughter, as though Alex had made an incredibly funny joke. "Come now, let's be serious here. We Legionnaires have no time for the put-put of our inferior peers, have we?" Changing gears, he nodded at the group, and added, "Seriously though, y'see that man in the middle? And I thought Peter Steele was metal's resident ogre."

"Not a man," was Alex's cryptic reply. And leaving Jack standing there baffled, she followed after Liam.




"Oh hell yeah." Edei had shed herself of all baggage except for her backpack, and stood there simply basking in the glory of the hotel (which admittedly was pretty impressive to Izzie, but only in the sense that it woulda been impressive to anybody who had yet to live in quarters that didn't harbour at least five different species of cockroach). "Tour manager’s sparing no expense, eh? I was expecting… What the shit is that chain called? We'll leave the lights on for you- people?"

Izzie stared blankly. "Is that some kinda hotel lingo or some shit?"

If it was, alas, Izzie was to remain blissfully ignorant, as no sooner had the words left her lips than a very familiar voice met her ears.

"Well, if it isn't Izzie-fucking-Martinez!"

A grin immediately split the hard contours of Izzie's face as she turned to the source of the words. Lo and behold, there, laughing and lookin' as ever like somebody had dipped her in a huge vat of rainbow sorbet, was the all too recognisable figure of one Raisa Trelstad-- kinda hard to mistake her, what with the whole 'hair the colour of fucking ketchup' thing. "And if it ain't Raisa fuckin' Trelstad," she retorted dryly as she turned to face her old bandmate.

"Jesus Christ, I haven't seen you in years," Raisa remarked as she came to a stop before Izzie, who smiled wryly. "Yeah, and damn, have you grown. Last time I saw ya you musta been-- what-- barely outta your teens? And now look at ya. Kickin' it with a big-time band like Legion. And still with the fuckin' eyesore hair. Goddamn."

Of course, Raisa could not let the rest of Psychosis go spared of her... uh, let's say enthusiasms. "Nice to meet you all!" she directed at the remaining three. And then she gestured back over to a trio Izzie recognised as the other constituents of Legion, who approached at the beck of their drummer, who immediately began introductions. "This is Liam--" she gestured over to a tall, lanky dude with the proud hair of a true headbanger. "-- Jack-- " she gestured over to a beardy fucker. "-- and Alex." And last of all, she pointed at what looked to be perhaps the most unabashedly metal looking person Izzie had ever seen, who greeted Psychosis with an unexpectedly subdued nod of the head. And then, of course, she pointed at herself. "I'm Raisa." She turned back towards the rest of her band, and took it upon herself to introduce Izzie to them as well. "This is Izzie Martinez. Remember, I told you about her? Fucking amazin' growler. Crazy shit."

"Oh, stop it, you, I'm blushing," Izzie retorted gruffly with an amused smirk. "Well, if it's introductions we're doin'..." She cast a quick glance back at her band, eyebrow raised vaguely, and then turned back to Raisa before whittling off, "The diminutive Irishman's Cormy--" "Oi!" "-- shut the fuck up Cormy. Captain America's Craig-- I actually have no clue what a Captain America is, but the aforementioned diminutive Irishman informs me that Craig seems reminiscent of it. An' the pretty lady's Edei. She might stab you in the throat with a menorah. You two'd get along, I reckon."