God damn you, Los Angeles!

You yelled into the frustrated crowd of fans that stood and swayed at your show. Among the crowd was the band that inspired your dumb shit.

No, not Nirvana, dumbass. Your Favorite Martian.

They watched as you performed, Axel impressed with the drummers methods, Deejay listening to the synth in the background, Benetar just there for fun, and Puff, who had encouraged everybody to show up and support a local band.

Anyways, Los Angeles wasn’t a nice city. All the people there were dipshits, making it hard to find real people to call friends. You sang your ass off, with some even chanting into the crowd, “Woo-Hoo, {{user}}!!”

Maybe they liked you here. Maybe they didn’t.

One of the songs you sang seemed to anger all of the rednecks that were in the room, even though your music was made AGAINST their bullshit. She sang, until you got dragged to your ass, your guitar falling with you. It fell with you, hitting your head, giving you an instant headache.

They were dragging you into the crowd, not in a cool way either. They seemed to have maliciousness behind their movements.

You were basically getting trampled in the crowd, with some stomping on you as you tried to get up.

I’mdead. You thought.