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The towering Warner Records regional building loomed over the streets of Manhattan like a glass giant. Polished and intimidating, it reflected the sky, as if swallowing up the clouds above. The four members of Obsidian Saints stepped through the revolving doors in their usual attire—black shirts, ripped jeans, leather, chains, and a subtle air of "don't tell us how to dress."
Samuel Owen walked ahead, briefcase in hand, the seasoned agent's usual calm sharpened into professional focus.
"You guys ready?" he asked as they approached the elevator.
"As we'll ever be," Rex replied.
Silas cracked his knuckles. "Hope they've got good coffee. I skipped breakfast for this."
Kai adjusted his bass-pick necklace. "Let's try not to punch anyone unless they really deserve it."
Ash smirked. "Let's try not to let Rex do all the talking. He tends to go full messiah mode."
Rex just chuckled under his breath.
The elevator dinged. They stepped inside.
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Inside the 27th-floor boardroom, the air practically hummed with corporate polish. A long obsidian table—ironically matching their band name—sat beneath hanging spotlights. Glass walls gave a full view of the city. Four executives waited on one side. And at the head of the table: Aaron Bay-Schuck, the CEO himself, sharp suit and steely eyes, fingers steepled under his chin.
He stood when they entered.
"Obsidian Saints," he said with a wide grin. "Glad you came."
Samuel shook his hand first. "Thanks for the invitation."
Rex and the others followed, exchanging quick, firm handshakes.
Aaron gestured to the seats. "Please. Sit. I won't waste time—you've got the best metal I've heard in over a decade. The Four Horsemen, Seek and Destroy… raw, real, and absolutely explosive."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "We're just getting started."
Aaron smiled. "Even better. So here's the deal—we want to sign you. A two-album deal, with an option for three more. Studio time, marketing, tour management. All the machinery of Warner behind you."
Samuel pulled out his own folder and sat back, crossing his leg. "We appreciate the offer. But let's talk details. Creative freedom, rights, royalties."
Aaron nodded to one of his associates, who slid printed contracts toward them. "Of course. We're willing to offer a 60/40 royalty split in your favor for digital streams. Full creative control—as long as the material isn't overtly controversial or politically destructive. We want art, not lawsuits."
Kai leaned forward. "So we can release the music we want?"
"You'll get notes, suggestions—but nothing gets forced. You're the creators. That's what we're banking on."
Silas flipped through the contract. "And what about touring? We doing this solo or bundled with other acts?"
Aaron grinned. "Your style doesn't fit the typical lineup. We'd rather build a tour around you. Think of it like a revival—true heavy music brought back by something new, not recycled nostalgia."
Rex's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"
Aaron laughed. "There's always one. You'll have to deliver. Consistently. Quality, deadlines, presence. You miss those, we have clauses for penalties. Standard stuff. But if you hold your ground, we'll be behind you one hundred percent."
Samuel turned to the band. "I'll go over this in more detail with you later, line by line. But so far, this is… surprisingly fair."
Ash glanced at Rex. "Thoughts?"
Rex tapped the table slowly. "We built this with our blood. Our sound, our vision. We're not here to become something they shape. We are the shape."
Aaron's face lit up. "That's exactly the attitude I want. Look, I don't want to tame you. I want to unleash you."
The room went quiet for a moment, then Silas chuckled. "Damn, that's a good line. You rehearse that?"
Aaron just smiled.
Samuel stood. "We'll review the paperwork, give you our answer within 48 hours."
Aaron extended his hand once more. "Fair enough. I hope you say yes. You've got something this industry hasn't seen in years—guts."
---
Back outside, in the buzzing city street, the band stood silent for a moment.
Kai finally spoke. "So… we might be going pro. Like, really pro."
Ash was already flipping through the contract again. "Still gotta make sure it's not a golden leash."
Silas stretched. "Let's be real though… that office was more nerve-wracking than any stage."
Rex looked to Samuel. "What do you think?"
Samuel smiled. "I think they're genuinely interested. And I think they're not stupid—they know what they're looking at. You're something different. Something dangerous. And in this business? That's power."
Rex looked down at his hands. The calluses, the scars, the decades of experience from another life. His secret weapon—memories no one else had, channeled through riffs and rage.
"This is just the beginning," he said.
Ash grinned. "Let's burn the next stage down."
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