Wielding a matte-black SG, Riley Pinkerton leads her fleet of three (Sgt. Young on drums, David "The Mouse" Marchione on bass, and H.B. Black on lead guitar) through the trenches of New York City. A thick, heavy echo of the Riffs of Olde swirl through the air, howling at their backs to guide them continuously forward in time. Pinkerton sends out her siren's call from behind a chaotic curtain of copper curls; her voice buoyant amidst the tides of distortion. Her words are weighted with all her creatures, beasts, and victims and the deepest, darkest corners of the nights she has spent amongst them. Though she has carefully polished each tale in the tumbling barrel of her mind, one could peel back the thin veil of glamour to reveal the grunge-laden glare smoldering in the corner of her eye...