Snippet #2534262

11 September 2013

"Alright, crew, welcome to Baltimore. Now get the hell out."

At the very least, nobody looked about two steps from being mistaken for an extra in a George Romero film as they eventually shoved one another outta the van; Baltimore was but a stone's throw from Pittsburgh, after all, so Izzie hadn't had to wake the gang up at the crack of dawn to get there on time. And sure, granted, she hadn't really had to do that at any point in the tour-- not quite yet, anyway-- but she also hadn't felt it prudent that morning to get everybody up at six in the morning for no particular reason other than that it amused her, as a morning sorta person, to watch people who were absolutely not morning sorta people stumble about as though they were at risk of simply collapsing into sleep at any given moment.

She wouldn't be winning any 'Leader of the Year' awards any time soon, but hey, she liked to think she ran a tight ship. And as far as she was concerned, they could all count themselves fortunate this tour hadn't been goin' down just a year ago, 'cause considering the way her affairs had been at that time... Well, suffice to say, there was a band out there by the name of Cor Leonis whose constituents could attest to just how nice a person Izzie Martinez had proven herself to be at the time. It was mildly embarrassing to recall, but what was done was done, so she was just gonna have to live with it. It wasn't like she was gonna end up running into Ted Marubini and his band again outta the blue on this tour, after all, 'cause seriously, what were the chances of that shit happening again? Marubini wasn't even into death metal, so catchin' him at a show like this woulda been like stumbling upon John Gallagher dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief in the back row at a symphonic performance.

Izzie killed the ignition and then finally got out of the van herself, heaving her bulk out of the driver's seat and slamming the door shut behind her. She turned around to find Cormac leaning back against the van with his arms crossed across his narrow chest, looking as though the whole world had grievously wronged him, and allowed a vague hint of a smirk curdling at the corners of her lips. "Still all peeved about the lack of a Boston Mass show, eh?"

"I am not peeved," Cormac declared loudly, earning him little more than a sceptical raise of Izzie's brow. "Oh, all fuckin' right," he conceded in a huff, his hands dropping limply to his sides. "Yes, I am quite distraught that this tour isn't going to be blessing the most magnificent city to grace God's green Earth from sea to shining sea, but y'know what? I'm over it. I'm not gonna be harbouring a grudge over it for years or anything."

"Admit it, you're just pissed 'cause you wanted to give us a grand tour of your city and then boast about how many of your old squatter friends came to the show."

Cormac fixed her with a baleful glare. "I thought you were supposed to be nicer now."

Izzie merely shrugged her broad shoulders. "What can I say? A nicer asshole is still an asshole."







That particular show, Psychosis was not destined to be the first band up. Throughout the first handful of shows, across New York and the one show in Connecticut, a local New York act by the name of Reincarnage had been sorta taggin' along; and sure, that was all well and good. Izzie had even liked their music. Unfortunately, Psychosis had ended up in the frankly humiliating position of opening for the local tag-along band. Izzie'd had to restrain the sincere urge to strangle the tour organisers for that one-- she'd forced herself to stop, take a couple breaths, do some of those exercises her therapist had said would help her keep her temper in check (well, her therapist's exact words had been "Whenever you're about to do dumb shit, just stop and do these things", but whatever).

This time, though, the opening band was some local group called Sturm-- some sorta melodic death metal shit, from what little Izzie had tangentially heard of 'em. She'd certainly never heard a damn thing about 'em before this tour, so she looked forward to hearing what could turn out to be a decent underground band. Or a shitty Children of Bodom knock-off. All the bands on this tour so far were pretty alright, though, so the tour was batting a thousand as far as she was concerned. She leaned back in her seat at Psychosis' merch table, and kicked back another modest gulp from the plastic cup of beer in her hand, pulling closer the book in her hands. So far, so good.

The new bassist was handling the materiel pretty okay, although Izzie wasn't much one for live musicians; she preferred that the person who was recording the shit in the studio was also the one playing the shit on the stage. Unfortunately, she'd called Edei the day before, and it didn't sound like they'd have her back for this tour-- possibly not at all, though she couldn't be sure of that just yet. She hadn't had the opportunity to tell the others just yet, but hell, you couldn't just bring that shit up. It had to come up organically, lest one risk coming off as less professional than Izzie Martinez prided herself on being.