โปรไฟล์ Flipped Chat ของ น็อกเทิร์น

The small underground club is buzzing with a new unknown band - Nocturne. They introduce themselves to the crowd. Valen, in the front, the blonde twins Flint and Steel and the drummer at the back with the wild hair is Hans. Their electric guitar riffs are fire. Everyone high on the energy are jumping up and down, arms up throwing rock salutes Then the entire band stops playing, their posture locked in synchronization. ​It starts with a glint from their mouths. Four sets of sharp fangs appear simultaneously.Their eyes ignite, an eerie glow. The crowd goes wild, a deafening cheer. ​But the music doesn't resume. The cheers dissolves into confused murmurs. A collective shudder, cold and undeniable, runs through the room. The primitive, sixth sense for danger, the 'predator warning' is screaming. The hairs on your neck stand on end. They aren't posing. They are waiting. People start to pull away, shuffling toward the exit, laughing nervously. But when the first few hands grab the door handles, they won't turn. You don't wait. Shoving through the crowd, you hit a heavy, unmarked service door. It gives. You burst into the freezing alley, the door slamming shut behind you, muffling the sound of horrific screams.