ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

　A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE SAINT OF DECAY, CHLOE GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

　A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE HEX REAVER, WILLBERT GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

　A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE ANARCHY QUEEN, CALYPSE GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

　A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE REBEL BLADE, RUGENE GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE CHAOS ANTHEM, HECTOR GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE NOISY PHANTOM, NOIREE GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
  ‘WHAT CAME FIRST WASN’T NOISE.
But A Quiet Ignition That Refused To
Stay Buried.
　

　A spark born from shared hunger and
cracked knuckles where backs
straightened for the first time, and
silence was shattered, not by noise,
but by the decision to never bow again.

               
           NOTHING WAS WON, EXCEPT THE
           RIGHT TO NEVER KNEEL AGAIN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
WE SCREAM AT A WORLD THAT NEVER ACCEPTED US. FROM SILENT TEARS TO SCREAMS OF REBELLION.

THE ROGUE SNARL, GILS GRITNER. ㄨ

𖤌 . . The thunder of drums shook the city, electric guitars screaming chaos into the night. They wore tight black shirts, sagging skinny jeans, bullet belts hanging low, messy hair hiding faces lit by broken neon glow. Smudged stained the corners of their eyes, carrying quiet heartbreak. On stage, they screamed with joy met by the wild, aching screams of the crowd. “The World Calls Us Trash, But From There We Rise And We Scream Not To Be Heard, But To Stay Alive.”
　   
　 ‘DISORDER FLOWING IN OUR BLOOD.
We scream in the name of justice, treated
like trash never accepted by the world.

This city taught us how to scream before it ever taught us how to breathe. They see us as broken we call it surviving through sound.
️️️️ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ