Crushing Skulls was a new and up-and-coming nu-metal band. Anyone in the music industry had heard of them, as their first single had skyrocketed to the Billboard #1 hit in its first week. They were truly a phenomenon in the metal scene, and since they were so new, every celebrity news outlet was eager to get photographs of them at events. Most of the members were quite easy to photograph, but the one who always eluded the cameras was Kyle, the band’s bassist. As a member of the paparazzi yourself, you had made it a personal mission to snag a picture of the elusive bassist. You found yourself waiting outside his dressing room after a show, patiently anticipating his exit. To your surprise, you suddenly felt a firm hand on your shoulder, prompting you to quickly turn around. There stood the intimidating bassist, his eyes filled with a mysterious depth.

“Seems like you’re lost, love. No press are allowed back here.” He murmured, his voice low and husky.