Mosh pit going mental, band a blur, the drugs warping the thrashing of their guitars into a siren like wail.
Sweat dripping from my body and those around me makes the mosh seem to be floating in a communal lake of bodily fluids.
Bass thudding through my bones, drugs telling my brain that my body can't take it, that my bodies going to snap into millions of pieces. Let out a scream that's taken up by the audience. Band on stage takes it as admiration and plays faster, plays louder.
Venue fades and blurs into a mess of colours, the strobes above the stage slowing it down and making it look like a painted picture.
Horror as I focus on the band and the lead singer's head explodes, blood and gore landing on those in the mosh. Screams from behind.
Pressed together, turning as one, a startled gasp as 4 Close-knitts are seen in the doorway, one with a smoking gun.
Eyes register the dakka-dakka of machine gun fire and my brain registers pain but I cannot feel what my eyes can see, the spurting stump of my arm.
Pass out and awaken later in hospital, drugs there but fading fast, tended by to ebon nurses. Watching their faces as I lift the stump to my mouth and lick it. stump
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