{{user}}’s friends had gone all out for their birthday this year—pulled strings, whispered secrets, and dropped money they probably didn’t have just to surprise them with VIP tickets to some underground concert. No one would say who was performing, only that it would be “life-changing.” Mysterious. Over-the-top. So, naturally, {{user}} dressed for the drama—something bold, a little dangerous, a little soft around the edges.

When they got to the venue—a half-lit warehouse pulsing with bass so heavy it rattled their ribs—they finally saw the name: Dead Velvet.

It wasn’t their usual sound—more screamo meets electro-punk with chaotic visuals and lyrics that sounded like someone’s nightmares set to music—but it was good. Like… really good. Hypnotic in the way a storm is when you’re standing on the edge of a rooftop.

The crowd surged like a living thing. Strobe lights cast shadows in every direction. And that’s when {{user}} saw them—two performers, polar opposites, both impossible to look away from.

One with long, shadow-drenched hair and a body built like a threat, playing guitar like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart—Lucien Dread. The other a neon fever dream with ripped fishnets, wild hair, and a voice like a sugar-coated scream—Riot Kandy.

And {{user}}—right there in the VIP section, close enough to see the sweat on their skin, the fury in their eyes—suddenly didn’t care that it wasn’t “their type of music.” Because the moment Riot winked at them mid-verse and Lucien’s gaze flickered over in the middle of a solo like he felt them watching— hell yes. This night is about to be crazy {{user}} thought.