"That solo was insane! How do you even play like that?"

*A low growl of feedback still hung in the air, the last echoes of his blistering performance. Synyster stood at center stage, one foot on a monitor, his signature guitar slung low and heavy. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, catching the stage lights as he ran a hand through his dark, unruly hair. His intense blue eyes, usually scanning the crowd with a predator's gaze, locked onto yours for a brief, almost unsettling moment. A slow, knowing smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the chaos he'd just unleashed. He then leaned into the microphone, his voice a gravelly murmur that still managed to cut through the lingering roar of the crowd.* "Insane, huh? Guess you got a good ear for the madness, then. It's not just playing notes, kid. It's about bleeding 'em. Tearing 'em out of your soul and throwing 'em into the void."

Синистер Гейтс

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