Devyn Fleming

"Fuck your phony bands and shitty harmonies
Bad melodic hardcore is the plague that you breed
Go get fucked!
You'll be run out of town in the chain-wallet meltdown
Ska and swing are far from best
and quit trying to be NOFX
Hop from one trend to the next
30 seconds from now you're gonna get wrecked... [1]

"Well, it's not like I ruined her shot at getting a modeling gig or anything. Geez!

"Is this thing on? Guess so... JD got a mini tape recorder the other night, so I decided to get one for myself. For when inspiration strikes, or some bullshit like that. Okay, fine, I like to hear myself talk. Got a problem with that?

"Anyways, what my dear friend Lance was getting on my case about is some bowling shoe ugly, poor white trash chick whose nose I broke the other night. Big deal. Like I said, no big loss. Fucking cattle. Maybe if she hadn't been so insecure about 'her man,' she would have walked out of there okay. But she tried to get in my face. That's the first mistake to make around me.

(sigh) "Dammit, I better start at the beginning. That's the way stories are supposed to start. Not with me breaking her nose on my knee. Although that is a good part.

"Name's Devyn Fleming. I'm the lead guitarist and singer for Satan's Handbag. We're an alternative/grunge/punk/metal band from the East Coast... basically, we're really loud. We also just so happen to be Cainites of the Sabbat. Singing about vampires, creatures of the night, darkness and blood. Not like Smashing Pumpkins though... The world is a vampire... sent to drain... secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames... [2] Hah... fucking Cammies hate us... Breaking their fragile little Masquerade is what we do best.

"So we travel the country, in search of our next gig, and in search of the ever elusive recording contract. You can deny the conspiracy theories all you want, but I really do think the Cammies are in control of all the major record labels, and they won't let us get a record deal. Lance talks to the minor labels, but they can't afford us… they certainly can't afford our tastes...

"Anyways, we had a gig in Louisville the other night. Went really well too, thanks for asking. 'Make it fucking louder' next time we play... Turn it up our battle cry-all for one!!! You make it worse by saying 'It's too loud'...[3] Yeah, that's the way our shows usually go. The fans love us, the critics hate us. So what?

"After our shows, we like to party a little bit. When we're partying with the fans, we have to behave ourselves a little bit. Cuz they're the fans, and without them, we're nothing. So I always make sure we go out afterwards and 'party' with the other cattle. So JD drove us to some little bar called 'The Stall,' full of poor white trash. The beer-swilling, wife-beating scum... the all singing, all dancing crap of the world... thank you, Tyler Durden... They weren't even listening to anything original... AC/DC, of all things!

"Sometimes I wonder how Kentucky still exists. Doesn't inbreeding lead to sterility? Or is that just wishful thinking? Well, at least it ain't Arkansas. I hope to Caine we never have to play in that shithole state again.

"Anyway, Miss Trailer Trash 1983 decided that I was trying to steal 'her man' away from her. Yeah, right. For target practice, maybe. For kicking the shit out of, sure thing. For anything else, like I care about that anymore. No thanks, bitch. I wanna kill you, I wanna blow you... away... [4] Hah... that's about right.

"If you're looking for an adventure some night, here's something to try. Walk up behind me and talk trash. Call me names, whatever. Then touch me. That's right, just fucking touch me. That's the second mistake to make around me.

"Some nights, I really do wonder about this whole clan thing. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if I wasn't an art fag Toreador AT like Lance... cuz the sound of a nose bone cracking, it damn near brings tears of joy to my eyes. It's one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. A good close second is when Jerry breaks a bottle over someone's skull, like he was doing while I was shattering Miss Trailer Trash 1983's nose, cheekbones, jaw, whatever. Like I said, not a candidate for modeling school before, sure as hell not a candidate when I was done with her.

"Sometime in that mess, JD got the hell outta there. Going for the car like a good boy... I took the time it would take him to get down the block and back to let off a little steam. And I got to hear my third favorite noise in the world. The sound of a meat-bag going through plate glass. I love the noise the glass makes when it falls all over the sidewalk...

"Then the cavalry arrived, in the form of JD. As usual, we got outta there with no problems. Left the cops in our wake... eat my dust you insensitive fuck... [5] Yeah, that's the way things go most nights. I like it.

(Click)

"Dammit... another shitty day, that means another shitty night. Somebody told me once that Cainites don't dream. I think they musta been on crack, cuz I sure as hell dream. More like nightmares, I suppose...

"It's the one about my life again. The one I've only told Jerry about, and that's only because he's our priest. I dunno, maybe I was looking for some deeper spiritual meaning... not bloody likely... Jerry's a good guy. He tries to help me and not make a big deal about it, but I guess there are some things that I really do have to do on my own. Nothing feels better than learning to face all the fears that's been guiding you for years... [6] But other than that, I'm glad to have my pack around.

"Okay, I'm starting to feel a little better now. Singing does that sometimes. Clears the brain, whatever. I just know what I like. Being Sabbat and making music... and having one hell of a time doing it.

"I hate my dreams because I don't know if they're real or not. They seem so real, but I really don't remember a whole lot from before when I was shoveled. I think my dreams are tied into that somehow... You know you never know yourself, all the years you've lived you could be someone else... [7] I found a newspaper article in my back pocket, not too long after I was shoveled. I don't think I put it there, but I don't know who did. It's stained through with blood, but I can still read most of it. I think it's from Boston, but I don't know.

"Sorority House Burned, Arson Suspected. Authorities received a call last evening reporting a fire at the Lambda Rho Phi sorority house on the campus of... something College. On arriving on the scene, firefighters found the house almost entirely destroyed. Half a dozen gasoline cans were strewn across the lawn, leading authorities to give an initial analysis of arson. The majority of the house's inhabitants are believed to have been killed in the blaze.

"There's a list of the deceased, and I'm on it. Me, in a sorority? Yeah, right...

"But my dreams make me wonder. I dream about living in a really nice house, and playing a violin, and doing charity work, and other nice stuff. Where the pretty girls are those demigods with their NINE-INCH nails and little fascist panties tucked inside the heart of every nice girl... [8] It all seems so real, like I'm dreaming about my past. And the weirdest thing is that it scares the hell out of me. I wake up from those dreams soaked in blood sweat. And then all I can do is play my guitar, or write songs, or get in a fight. And even then I sometimes remember, and I shiver. Not because I'm cold, but because I'm scared.

"Listen up, Satan's Handbag. If any of you ever listen to this damn tape, and I hear about it, just remember the rules. You already know that you don't get in my face and don't touch me. Time for the third rule... bring up my past, and you'll wish you hadn't.

"Anyways, if that was my life, I'm glad it's over. I am Sabbat, and I love what I've become. Who cares what I was when I was just another one of the cattle? The past doesn't matter to me. I throw away my past mistakes, and contemplate my future. That's when I say... What the hey!?! [9]

"Sometimes I wonder how I wound up with this bunch. I don't mean how I ended up in the Sabbat. That's easy enough to explain, even if I don't know all the details. They needed people for a siege, and I happened to be one of the lucky few chosen... and one of the even luckier few that survived.

"That's how I met Jerry. Both of us were in that attack on DC, and both of us survived. Amazing that we did. I've figured out now that we were basically part of a suicide run. DC took a hell of a lot more than a handful of shovelheads to take. A whole hell of a lot more, if all the stories are true... hell, if even half of the stories are true... I mean, prisci don't usually get involved in sieges... do they?

"So Jerry and I got to talking, and we realized that we both dug the same kind of music. I guess the rest of the band, and the pack, just sorta fell into place after that. We found Talon and Geneva to round out the band… I liked both of them from the moment I saw them. Their looks are such opposite extremes. I mean Talon is so tall and so impossibly white. I wonder what he looked like before he got Embraced... And then Geneva is just a tiny little thing, and Korean. I don't think she likes to be reminded about the second part. But it makes her even cuter, I think. Anyways, it's fun to have her around, cuz guys automatically think she's gonna be an easy target. And then we kick their asses.

"So later we picked up Lance to give us some sort of fucking direction, and the rest of the guys to do all that technical shit. I guess we could've used some cattle for all that, but it's just easier when the whole gang is Cainites... less explaining, and less turn-over...

"When it comes down to it, I guess I need all of them. I mean, for as much shit as I give JD, I guess we would be kinda lost without him. Literally, some nights. The man knows the roads like the back of his hand. And I'd be lying if I said that he hadn't saved our asses more than once. It's just a shame that a real clan didn't take him...

"So here we are, on the road, touring, making a little bit of money, and having one hell of a good time. We're a nomadic pack, and that's just fine with me... too much crap happens in the cities for my liking. They say it takes all kinds in this world... I guess we don't fit in though... so be it! [10] And we get to see the whole damn country. Whoop-dee-doo...

"JD's stopping the truck. Cool. I could deal with some fresh air. Hah... It's such a beautiful night, it's cold as hell, the wind smells like disaster... [11] Damn right.

(Click)

"Damn! That was way too much fun! Heheheh... holy shit, I'm giggling. Blood, pot, and LSD... mmmm... I love mixed drinks! The colors of that piece of time are still so fresh inside my mind and it makes the movie of my life seem pale... [12]

"There's gotta be a song or two in tonight's fabulous adventures. The only bad part about 'mixed drinks' is that some of the details are gonna be fuzzy tomorrow night... better get this on tape now while my brain is clear.

"When I got out of the truck, we were at some podunk town truck stop. We stop at a lot of these places. Usually just for gas, maybe a quick snack, and then back on the road. There's usually not much else to do, other than get into fights and then leave before the cops show up. But we had some extra time to kill, so I figured I'd let everybody kick back for a while and do their own thing. I just want to be who I want to be... guess that's hard for others to see... [13] Don't get me wrong, my pack is everything. But when you're on the road all the time, sharing the back of a semi for nights on end, sometimes we need a few hours to ourselves. I know I do!

"So I get out and look around, looking for something to entertain myself for a little while. That's when I spotted Eric. Chubby red-headed stepchild, leaning up against the biggest rust bucket I've ever seen, smoking a cigarette and wearing a skirt... a kilt, if you ask him. We could just skip the formalities and get down to what we're here for... [14] Let the games begin...

"I decided to arm wrestle him for it. I could have won, but I didn't really feel like taking his arm off. Sometimes I don't even know my own strength. I kinda like the kilt. Anyway, Greg, the mack daddy whose car it was, decided he didn't want us standing on his piece of shit car, and asked us to stop. Not my fault the roof was the flattest part of the car... and little ole me isn't gonna dent the hood just by standing on it... but we stopped, and I let him keep his kilt... for a while...

"Normally, I might have walked away at that point, borrowed a motorcycle, followed them out into the country, and caused a little accident. But then there was the third musketeer, Julie. Little bitty thing, didn't look a day over sixteen, with that gorgeous tracery of scars up and down her wrists... looked just about scared out of her mind. I know the tears you're crying in your bed at night alone, I've cried the tears a thousand times... but those shallow empty songs about suicide are patronizing, you've got to learn to face your fears... [15] They were lost, and running late. She wanted to stop somewhere to sleep, and finish their trip in the morning. The boys weren't so sure, but I took her side. Told them they probably didn't want to get even more lost, and in the morning, the road signs would be easier to read. That, and I knew a decent place they could stay...

"That last part was a lie. I didn't know where we were, let alone anything about nice places to stay. But I could see a sign for a sleazy motel, and I had been to enough of these small towns to know that we could drive around for about 10 minutes, get back to the sleazy motel, and they'd never even know we were only a block from where we started.

"Anyways, Julie was sold, and after I cuddled up to Eric a little bit, Greg really didn't have much of a choice other than to go along with us. When I got in the car, I was glad I had decided to play this game instead of the other one... Eric had a bag of pot sticking out of his duffle bag. A little bit more prying, and he admitted to having some LSD too. Bonus! I'm in a love affair with poison, I'm addicted to my death, it's a constant situation, I'm screaming out your name with my last breath... [16]

"Well, once we got to the motel, it was time to experiment. I don't destroy lives, I just watch people destroy their own lives. I might give a little encouragement here and there, but that's about it. So we mixed some drugs, drank some blood, and tried a little kinky shit... you'd be amazed how mind-expanding sex, blood, and drugs can be...

"Eric was used to most of it. He's already started on a self-destructive path. No problems at all with the drugs, and he liked the pain. Liked taking it more than giving it, but that was okay. But he wasn't doing it for the right reasons. He just wanted to be different... just like everyone else...

"Greg was pretty white bread. Yeah, he'd smoked pot a couple of times before, but that's about it. Sex was his thing, and he liked it when I sunk my fangs into his neck. Said something about loving the taste of blood. But he didn't really get it either. A little bit smarter than Eric, and a little bit closer to understanding, but still so far away...

"Julie was the best though. Hadn't even smoked a cigarette before. Hell, she was nineteen, and still a virgin. Eric, who she went to college with, had been trying to get in her pants for months. Greg, her boyfriend of a week, was working in that direction as well. They got their wish... and I think she liked it...

"Too bad Julie couldn't handle it... I think we broke her... she would have been fun to bring along for the ride. I didn't want to hurt you baby, I didn't want to hurt you... I didn't want to hurt you, but you're pretty when you cry... [17] Guess those guys will have some fun explaining to do when they come to... if they come to. Stuck in a cheap motel, no car, drugged up, low on blood, and all those interesting Polaroids... yeah, a fun time had by all...

"When it really comes down to it, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The road is our home. We know it ain't an easy life. Kids from the city shouldn't try it... it's like the commercials... trained professionals, do not attempt." (yawn) "The eastern sky hints of dawning... alone and awake but exhausted I lie... oh how I hate the morning... [18] And truck stops are not good places for men in kilts to smoke. That is our lesson for tonight, brought to you by the number... awww, fuck it..." (yawn) "And knowing is half the battle... time for sleep."

(Click)

"That aching in the head, that hole in the heart, You know just what I mean, 3 AM Saturday night... [19]

"I'm down from my high now. That's the part I hate. I'm pretty bummed, but at least I didn't dream last night... my 'mixed drinks' usually do kill the nightmares for a night...

"Atlas found me some old Goth compilation at the truck stop... maybe that's why I'm bummed... I can't believe these lyrics... Who wants to burn, to burn in hellfire... hands up, who wants to die... [20] Geez... I'm glad we don't play this kind of loser shit. Thanks, but I already am a creature of the night... don't need to go out and buy black everything to do that...

"Heh... already cheered myself up. The world may suck, popular music may suck, but the only time we suck is when we're doing it literally... heh...

"We must be almost to Washington now. We just passed the city limits sign for a town called Future City... what kind of name is that? Is it the city of the future? Only if aluminum trailers and burnt out wrecks of cars are space age... Is it the future of the city? Wow, Washington... I sure as hell hope that's not the case... 'cause if it is, I'd say you're fucked...

1. "A Prayer for the Complete & Utter Eradication of all Generic Pop-Punk" by Spazz
2. "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by Smashing Pumpkins
3. "Turn it Up" by Trigger Happy
4. "Angry Johnny" by Poe
5. "Eat My Dust You Insensitive Fuck" by Catherine Wheel
6. "Too Bad You Don't Get It" by Useless I.D.
7. "No Time" by Frente!
8. "Precious Things" by Tori Amos
9. "Going to Pasalasqua" by Green Day
10. "Tabloid Grind" by Bent
11. "Such a Beautiful Night" by Geggy Tah
12. "I Don't Need a Hero" by Concrete Blonde
13. "Smash" by The Offspring
14. "European Swallow" by The Refreshments
15. "When I'm Dead" by Stabbing Westward
16. "Cigarette" by Pale Divine
17. "Pretty When You Cry" by VAST
18. "Haunted" by Type O Negative
19. "Saturday Night" by Killswitch
20. "Who Wants to Go to Heaven?" by Jay Aston

[Devyn's mortal background, which she doesn't remember, because she's amnesiac.]

Devyn Fleming was born in 1969. She was the only child of wealthy parents, and thus lived a good life. She was a generally good person, well liked by her peers. Academics and sports held some fascination for her, but she had an ear for music, and attended private schools where she was able to develop her talents further.

After high school, she entered the music program at Boston College. She was a walk-on member of the tennis team, and she joined Lambda Rho Phi, a social sorority with a long reputation of community service, her freshman year. During her sophomore year, she moved into the Victorian style sorority house.

On a warm night in March of 1990, the Sabbat of the Boston area raided the sorority house and shoveled the inhabitants. It was done partly as a joke, and partly to provide the cannon fodder they wanted for a suicidal raid on Washington, D.C. Devyn was one of three survivors of the sorority shovelheads. There were a few other survivors (including Jerry), who made up the first pack that Devyn was in. When she and Jerry decided to start Satan's Handbag with the others, they left their old pack somewhere on the East Coast and started touring the U.S. as a nomadic pack.

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