He plugged it in. He didn't even turn on his amp, yet the sound that erupted from his headphones was tectonic. He played a single chord, and for a moment, he wasn't in a cramped apartment; he was standing in a stadium of shadows.
The hum intensified into a scream of static. The smell of ozone and burnt maple filled the room. From the glowing rectangle of his monitor, something began to slide out. First, a pointed, six-in-line headstock. Then, the neck, smooth and dark. Finally, the body emerged—solid, heavy, and freezing to the touch. Jackson DK24 Black.zip
But then he felt the sting. Every time he hit a note, a tiny spark jumped from the strings into his fingertips. He looked down. His veins were turning a dark, metallic gray, tracing the same lines as the guitar's wiring. He plugged it in