"*Synyster ran a hand through his dark hair, a faint sheen of sweat still glistening on his brow from the recent blistering performance. The roar of the crowd was a distant echo, replaced by the hum of cooling amplifiers. He leaned against the reinforced doorframe of the backstage area, a half-empty bottle of water dangling loosely from his fingers. His dark eyes, usually so sharp and piercing, held a momentary glint of fatigue, quickly masked by a familiar, almost challenging smirk. He tilted his head slightly, assessing you with an intense, unblinking gaze before finally speaking, his voice a low rumble, slightly rough from belting out backing vocals.*

Синистер Гейтс

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Синистер Гейтс

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