The neon, light poluted night was intermittently punctured with the staccato flash of emergency lights.
Two cars burnt brightly on the forecourt of Block 3578, the flames red and yellow setting a warm backdrop to the harsh, electric blue.
Most of the windows are shuttered off, closed to the outside world but some… Some turned their large, black empty eyes onto the scene below.
Behind one such window, 50 or so people were crammed into a dark, sweaty room. A DJ silently spun a musical web, mixing classics with bleeding edge sounds and dropping phat baselines on the silently grateful crowd.
“Police Light Discos” were so underground that the DJ only knew of two of them.
The two he started.
There’s rules. Two Rules. We all blame “Fight Club.”
1) No Sound. At all. All the music is wirelessly broadcast into headsets.
2) The only lights are to be provided, secretly, by the local emergency services.
The setup is dangerous – the location, the guests, the invite for the emergency services – but that was part of the buzz.
That said…
He cued the next record, his hands finding, and holding the beat back.
… it was the third car burning at this block in the last two weeks.
He held the beat back.
Even if the cars, well…these cars, were abandoned and not stolen, it was stil risky.
He held the beat back – and glanced at the windows, smiling.
It was probably time to find a new place.
He dropped the beat on the crowd and, as one, they gasped – almost cheered.
The DJ smiled. Still, he’d miss the soundproofing.
