The city buzzed around Samuel Owen, but inside his dim apartment, time moved slower. Piles of vinyls leaned precariously against a worn leather couch, and two guitars hung on the walls like dusty reminders of the golden years. His laptop sat on the cluttered kitchen table, surrounded by crumpled notes, coffee-stained music sheets, and a growing collection of takeout containers.
Samuel rubbed the bridge of his nose, blinking away the fatigue. He'd been browsing unsigned music talent for the past six hours—Soundcloud, YouTube, even fringe forums. Nothing stood out. Not anymore. It was all algorithm-pandering pop, or lifeless digital production. The soul was missing.
He sighed and took a sip from his lukewarm coffee. "Just one damn spark," he muttered. "That's all I need."
He opened YouTube out of habit more than hope, typing in "new underground metal 2019." The screen filled with the usual noise until a thumbnail caught his eye.
Obsidian Saints - The Four Horsemen (Official)
It had 200k views.
Odd title, he thought. Obsidian Saints? Bold name. He clicked play.
The screen darkened. A grainy, DIY intro played. Then...
A slow, menacing riff rolled in—thick, grimy, and unapologetic. Samuel froze. It was raw. Violent. Alive.
The drums thundered in, followed by a scream of lead guitar. The vocalist's growl tore through the mix: vicious and impassioned, yet full of control. Every part of the track clicked together like old-school machinery—rusted, but powerful.
"What the hell am I listening to?" Samuel whispered.
He sat forward, glued to the screen as the song played out. No frills. No overproduction. Just unfiltered aggression and craftsmanship.
By the time the last note rang out, he was staring at the screen, speechless.
His hand hovered over the track's description. There was a link to another video.
Obsidian Saints - Seek and Destroy (Official Audio)
A second track?
He clicked it.
He braced himself.
A gritty, electrifying riff screamed out of his speakers like a lightning bolt. Then came the rapid fire of the drums, relentless and precise. The vocal burst in, furious and primal, yet refined. It was a different beast altogether.
Where The Four Horsemen had been a march of apocalypse, Seek and Destroy was a declaration of war. It pulsed with chaos, burning with an energy that was terrifying in its clarity. Samuel's heart pounded.
As the chorus hit, something inside him stirred. A long-dormant flame. The kind of feeling he used to chase in smokey bars and concert halls back in the '90s.
"Goddamn," he whispered, leaning in. "This is it."
He listened to the track again. And again. Each time catching something new—a guitar flourish here, a lyric that cut deep there.
When it finally ended, he was breathless. Not from the song, but from realization.
"They've got it," he whispered. "They've really f***ing got it."
He leaned back, eyes closed, letting the last notes echo in his memory. This wasn't just a band. This was the start of something bigger. Something primal. Something the industry hadn't seen in decades.
Back to the YouTube page—he scoured every inch of it. No official site. No major label mention. Just a channel. Some comments. A few reposts on niche forums.
Nobodies.
Perfect.
He opened a new document on his desktop, labeled it Obsidian Saints - Immediate Action Plan, and began typing notes:
Sound: Thrash/groove hybrid, heavy '80s influences
Visuals: Raw, minimal, authentic
Singer: Marketable voice, unique tone
Lyrics: Aggressive, but not shallow
Potential: Viral sleeper act
Samuel didn't waste time. He wasn't some naive intern. He was a veteran. And he knew what to do.
Contacts. Marketing strategy. Studio access. Tour potential. All of it started forming in his mind like a stormcloud.
He clicked back to the channel. There it was—a simple Gmail listed under contact.
He hovered over the Compose button. His hands trembled slightly.
---
Subject: Obsidian Saints — Your Music Needs the World
To the members of Obsidian Saints,
My name is Samuel Owen. I've spent the last 20 years in the music industry as a talent agent, manager, and producer. I've worked with bands that made it, and many more that should've. I'm not going to pretend I'm some kingmaker. I'm struggling myself these days.
But tonight, I stumbled across your songs — The Four Horsemen and Seek and Destroy. And I've never written an email faster in my life.
You have something most acts only dream of: raw power, precision, and presence. If those two songs are any sign of what's to come, then I believe Obsidian Saints can ignite something this industry hasn't seen in decades.
I'd like to talk. No pressure. No contracts. Just a call. Let me help you bring this fire to the world.
If you're interested, reply. If not, just know—someone out here heard your voice.
Sincerely,
Samuel Owen
---
He read the email once, twice, then hit Send.
Afterward, he just sat there, heart thudding like a drumbeat in his chest. Hope. Real, actual hope.
He hadn't felt that in years.
---
Meanwhile, halfway across the city in a quiet garage-turned-studio, Rex was checking the band email. He'd just finished adjusting the final tags on their uploads.
When he saw the new message, his brows lifted.
"Hey, guys," he called out to the others, who were lounging with pizza. "You're gonna want to hear this."
He opened the email and read it aloud.
By the time he finished, no one was eating. Ash leaned forward, blinking. Silas was wide-eyed. Even Kai was speechless.
"Holy sh*t," Silas finally muttered. "That's… an actual music agent?"
"Twenty years in the business," Rex confirmed.
"Do we reply?" Kai asked.
Rex leaned back, staring at the message. A smirk crept across his lips.
"Oh yeah. We reply."
---