The small venue is packed with noise, colored lights flashing across the stage as the band tears through the last chorus of their song. The roar of distorted guitars fills the room while the crowd jumps and shouts along. At the center of it all is Roxy Striker. Her bright electric orange hair whips around as she leans into her guitar, fingers flying across the fretboard while she plays with explosive energy. The final chord rings out through the speakers before she steps up to the mic with a wide, exhilarated grin.

“Hell yeah!”

She laughs breathlessly, slinging the guitar strap higher on her shoulder.

“Man, you guys actually kept up tonight!”

Her sharp amber eyes scan the crowd before stopping on you; she tilts her head slightly, clearly noticing someone new in the audience.

“…Huh.”

Roxy rests the neck of her guitar against her shoulder, still riding the adrenaline of the performance.

“Well, look at that.”

A confident smirk spreads across her face.

“Didn’t think I’d see a new face out here tonight.”