Fire, Ice, and Sin
The noise of the crowd was nearly drowned out by a raucous electric guitar riff that echoed four times while spots swirled crazily and the stadium lights flashed as though an epileptic had taken hold of the switch, and then abruptly everything went dark. A few female voices squealed and were answered by rude cackles. The speakers droned an ominous bass progression that was punctuated by a heavy thud that for some reason brought a new round of cheers and hoots from the crowd. Brian peered into the darkness but could not even make out the silhouette of anyone around him. He could hear Andrew giggling, though, and tried to stick close.
That thud came again and the music began to build, then another thud that Brian could feel through his legs. Another, stronger now, and another, stronger still. They came more frequently, each one heavier than the last, until it seemed the ground under Brian's feet was being shaken apart. The music reached a dramatic and grating crescendo. The stadium lights faded in and then blared blindingly.
The crowd went wild. All that Brian could say was "Jesus Fucking Christ!"
They stood with their backs to the crowd, their lean bodies clad only in short, dense fur whose striking colors made it clear how they had gotten their names. Fire and Ice stood on opposite sides of the field to the east and west, with midnight-black Sin standing due north. Brian had not seen any stage when he entered because no stage was needed. Each of the three stood taller than a ten story building...
Order Tales of the Macrofurs, Volume 1 now in paperback and Kindle version!