Agent for a Cause

"Black rock, ice and snow in a land of volcanoes!"

The floor bouncers were shoving their way through the packed house to get to me. Unlike the armed men in the galleries above the floor, the bouncers didn't have guns for fear of some whacked out over sexed kid making a grab for one and going postal on everyone in a drug induced haze.

They did have knives and batons though. If this was how they wanted to play it was fine by me. I could do knives to. I slung the rifle over my shoulder even as a knife slipped out into my left hand from up my sleeve.

I pulled a collapsing baton from my waistband and with a flick of the wrist the baton snapped out to full extension as a bouncer leaped from the crowd at me. His wild swinging baton met mine in an overhead smash even as my knife plunged deeply three times. As the man slumped away I continued my progression on into the hall as a way opened up before me.

"Molten lava sizzling over bare black rock!"

At first the crowd hadn't been sure what to make of the new beat that was in English, but now they swung right back into their former groove without a hitch as their voices raised uproariously in approval, as they watched the scene of my attack unfold on multiple jumbotrons situated throughout the room.

I even had spotlights tracing my path through the shifting maze of packed sweaty bodies. I came to a spot directed as I was by the crowd's shifting movements, where the floor was lit up in a way reminiscent of the disco era.

I wasn't a fan of the 70's. There just hadn't been practically any good movies made during that time period in my opinion. Twenty some bouncers crowded at the edges of the lit up space and I could see that they only hesitated for fear of me using a gun on them if they separated away from the shielding influences of the surrounding crowd.

I left the gun where it was on my back and boldly stepped into the space, as the floor rippled in an array of colored patterns designed to drive dancers wild in their rhythmic movements.

"Icy winds begin to blow and molten lava cools as in comes the man from the land of ice!"

The bouncers came at me then in a bulrush of motion intent on pounding me into a bloody pulp on the psychedelic colored light grid of the floor beneath us.

I was no stranger to mobs. Growing up as a kid in the Russian slums we kids were little better than packs of roving dogs in search of scraps of food to eat.