Snippet #2537503

Now, Izzie woulda been the first to admit that a dimly lit, badly ventilated venue packed full of hot, sweaty metalheads making a metric fuck-ton of noise was hardly the most apt of locations to hunker down with a good book. And yet here she was, elbows rested on the merch table, a plastic cup that boasted beer of marginally inoffensive quality planted beside her arm, content to resolutely reject everything and anything happening around her and let herself be absorbed into the book before her eyes. She didn't much bother glancing up as the opening band-- Sturm or whatever-- took to setting up, though it did get kinda hard to ignore once the sound guy started abusing that poor venue PA system to go ranting off about some shit that had nothing to do with Sturm's sound. Something about a 'chick' and her band? Izzie merely suppressed a snort-- who the hell actually, unironically called people 'chicks' these days, anyway? She smirked, and turned the page of her book.

Sturm's soundcheck came and went, and the dimming of the lights, accompanied by eager cheers and crowing from the crowd, was the augur of the onset of their set. Izzie set her book down, figuring, shit, maybe Sturm would turn out to be halfway decent-- unless they came barrelin' right outta the gate soundin' like the whole of their inspiration was born outta Morbid Angel's new record, in which case Izzie was divin' right the fuck back into her book and doin' her best to pretend she was deaf. She took note of the page number she was on, shut her book, set it down on the table, glanced up at Sturm as they prepared to begin their set, and thought 'oh for fuck sake'.

Man, she just couldn't shake these asshats, could she? The other guitarist was different-- naturally, seein' as Izzie had... uh, sorta fired their last one for them (look, she wasn't exactly proud of herself for it)-- but the perky blonde and the ratty Irish dude were still there, and of course, Ted Marubini was at the left wing of the stage, wielding a guitar with more pointy bits than Izzie would have figured Ted was comfortable with. In other words, it was basically Cor Leonis-- except apparently Ted had been broadening his listening selection, because the second the music went hurtling off, it became very much evident that this was not Cor Leonis, the shitty power/nu metal abomination. This was Ted Marubini, playing death metal... and shit, it wasn't even awful.

Although the new singer wasn't exactly the most original frontperson Izzie'd ever seen. Y'know, the whole 'make some fucking noise _______ City, this is totally my favourite place to play and I totally didn't say that at literally every other city we've played in'. Actually... Izzie leaned back in her seat as Sturm began their second song of the night, and smiled.

Kinda gave her an idea, now that she thought of it. She made a point of keeping it in mind as Sturm ran through their handful of songs-- and yes, she rather enjoyed their set, she'd have to torment Ted Marubini later on with the prospect that Izzie Martinez actually liked his music. By that time, however, Craig and Kodie had seen fit to make their way back to her homely little domain at the merch table, and she glanced over at Craig in particular, indicating with her hand toward the retreating Sturm. "Just can't get rid of these fucks, can I?" she drawled dryly.





"Well, this is an illustrious occasion."

Alex Rykov had largely kept her silence-- owing in no small part to, y'know, the fact that Sturm was currently up on stage rendering any attempt at audible conversation futile. And yet, even as their last song wound down to a finish and the crowd surged up to bid them an enthusiastic farewell, Chris and Liam were, lo and behold, still at it: hell, Alex wouldn't have been particularly surprised to learn they'd kept it up even throughout Sturm's set, which she wouldn't have noticed, since she'd been too busy actually paying attention to the opening band.

"Chris actually has somebody in this band who can understand a word he's sayin'," she elabourated drolly. "And it's Liam of all people." She glanced over to Lestari, who was sitting with her chair precariously tilted back against the wall and her sneakers up on the table, tapping away idly with drum sticks, and added, "And to think I feared that you would end up spending all the rest of your days geekin' out with him about the ways of the Tri-Force and such."

Lestari smirked, and dug a hand into her pocket to retrieve her notepad. The Tri-Force is from the Legend of Zelda. Even I know that. Alex merely shrugged her broad shoulders. "It's all, as the saying goes, Greek to me." But Lestari had already turned her attention back to the drum beats that were undoubtedly wracking at her very nerves, demanding to be released in some form on something, if not actual drums. The drummer had been giving Alex her space these last few days, which Alex appreciated; they were doing a dangerous little dance here, and Lestari... Lestari had pushed it a little further than Alex was comfortable with.

Not that Alex was going to let that panic her and prompt her to end it altogether. Not so long as this was just something... something between herself and Lestari.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before Psychosis went up next; Alex had to prepare herself mentally for what was undoubtedly going to be quite the jarring whiplash of transitioning from melodic death metal to... uh, what Psychosis did. And she wasn't incorrect, of course: Psychosis laid right into the crowd from the very first slam of their opening song ('Worm-Infested Cadaver', eh? Very death metal). The moshers came right outta the woodwork, assailing one another roughly in time with each chugging breakdown and each fretboard-abusing spat of sweep-work, and didn't look to be losing any energy as Psychosis' first song of the evening came to a grinding halt.

"Alright, alright, that's enough fuckin' noise," Izzie Martinez, towering over the crowd, rebuked harshly into the microphone. "I'm gettin' old, y'know. Gonna give me a headache up here. Anyway..." She made a show of digging around in the pockets of her jeans briefly as she spoke. "It's just great to be playing back here in... uh..." She finally managed to tug a piece of crumpled paper from her pocket (nothing was on it, of course-- it was just a fuckin' prop) and unfurled it before her eyes. "Charleston, Virginia!" she finished triumphantly. "Yeah, so lovely to be back in Charleston-- lemme tell ya, this is bar none my favourite city to play in, so..." She was cut off by a chorus of amused jeers as the crowd played along, accompanied by one or two people bellowing out "Baltimore!" Izzie pretended to furrow her brows in confusion, before glancing down at the paper, tracing down it with her finger as though scanning a list, and donning an expression as though she'd just come to a sudden understanding. "Oh. Baltimore. Right." She cleared her throat, and grunted, "It's just great to be playing back here in Baltimore again! Lemme tell ya, this right here is bar none my favourite city to play in, which I'm totally not gonna repeat when we actually do hit Charleston tomorrow..."

She smirked, and crumpled up the paper again, tossing it aside. "Nah, I actually don't really give a shit about you, Baltimore. I mean, did you come here to hear a bunch of metal singers insincerely fellate your hometown for a few cheep cheers, or did you come here at the risk of permanent tinnitus, hearing loss, and grievous bodily harm to be ground down into pulp by several tons of heavy fuckin' metal?" The crowd's eager responce was answer enough, so she smiled, and finished, "Good, because I don't expect to see anybody come outta this next song alive. This one's called Gilles de Rais."

... what? Sometimes it didn't suck to actually be a frontwoman.

Just before the song began, however, Izzie turned away from the crowd and toward Cormac in particular, nodding at him. "Hey," she grunted shortly. "How about you intro this song with a little run across the windchimes, eh?"

Cormac looked at Izzie as though she'd just personally brought Christmas early right to his doorstep, before turning his nigh-uncontainable jubilance toward Kodie and mouthing 'TEN BUCKS'. And then, of course, none too eager to squander this opportunity, he did just that, and Psychosis' set went along from there.