Feel the blood rush...
Feel the anxiety...
Feel the worry, but the excitement. The knowledge, but the unknown.
Feel the beet of the drum, the rhythm pulsing through your veins...
Feel...the action!
Spotlights kick on as the band goes into full flair, the crowd going wild as their long awaited performance arrives. The middle of the stage erupts into flames, and out of the fire...
"HCTIB! HCTIB! HCTIB!"
An imp, standing tall and proud bows before his fans, no seen as hundreds of lowly demons. Rising, he thrusts his arms out into the air. Proud, strong, and they all loved him. This was what he always wanted, his dreams, his ambitions.
"Horrors of the world! Are...you ready...TO ROCK!!!" The crowd explodes as yet another spotlight appears, a tall, gangly warlock steps up behind the small imp, and as the crowd recognizes him, they silent, suddenly afraid.
Hctib, however, is not changed at all. The band strikes up a tune, and the crowd believes that everything is alright.
"YOUR DOOOOOOOOOMsday is at hand," he sings, Lord Richard air guitaring behind him, as if that was what he was made to do.
"Prepaaaare yourself, the suffering will be, never ennnnnnnndin..."
Words are cut off as the crowd is suddenly engulfed in flames, and screams and cries for help can be heard. Behind Hctib, Richard looks truely sorry about the actions he just performed.
"Wait, the suffering and torture is s'posed to be after the chorus..."
Shrugging, Richard walks away, leaving the lonely imp to stand and stare at his loving, burning fans...