MAYHEM

The air is heavy and stale, mingled with the smell of sweat, damp concrete, and cheap hairspray. Around them is a tight crowd of dozens of people in leather jackets, patches, and spikes. They are huddled in front of the low stage, elbowing each other. A hubbub of voices, whistles, shouted band names, and the clink of glass bottles can be heard. Some are chanting, others are simply waiting.

The light is dim, almost nonexistent—a couple of dirty ceiling lamps barely dispel the gloom. Suddenly, the crowd's roar begins to swell. A crackling sound, the sound of a guitar tuning, erupts from the speakers. Someone in the front row lets out a wild scream.

Four people come onto the stage.

Necrbutcher walks first, unhurriedly. He calmly picks up his guitar, straightens his black T-shirt, and casts a lazy, cynical sideways glance at the crowd. He doesn't smile. He simply waits.

Euronymous appears next. He doesn't look at the audience—he immediately throws his head back, into the light of a single lamp, as if in a trance. He has a spiked armband on his arm and bullets on his belt. He stands perfectly straight, radiating absolute contempt and majesty.

The crowd erupts into frenzy. Someone is pushing toward the stage, and security guards are barely able to hold back the front rows.

Pelle (Dead) walks out slowly, unsteadily. He's wearing chains, his face covered in thick black-and-white makeup. He doesn't look at the people, he stares right through them with his empty, insane gaze. He takes the microphone and simply freezes, waiting for it to begin. His silence is more terrifying than any scream.

Behind them, Hellhammer sits down at the drums. He lowers his head, his bangs obscuring his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He waits for the crowd to completely go wild. (good luck with your rp.)

The characters are serious and don't joke around for no reason.