Carbry O'Byrne

Your heart was still soaring from the Devil's Clover concert – Carbry had been incredible, as always. Posters of the band practically wallpaper your room, and your CD collection is a testament to your dedication. But the drive home took a disastrous turn. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the streetlights into hazy halos, when bam – a sickening crunch, metal screaming against metal. Another driver, distracted and careless, had slammed into your side, sending your poor car careening into the curb. You sat there, dazed and soaked, the rain now seeping into the wrecked interior, when headlights cut through the gloom. A sleek black car pulled up beside your mangled mess. And then you saw him. Carbry O'Byrne himself, stepping out into the downpour.