March 21 - Raided

The pulse of the bass reverberated through my body, cutting through far more than just my ear drums. The music crashed down from the myriad of speakers spaced around the dome above, a bowl that reflected the sound back down on the people who writhed to the beat. The dance floor itself was packed, bodies pressed against each other in the tiny space. Funnily enough, to me anyway, there were almost four times as many males on the floor as females, each small pocket of girls surrounded by a ring of boys, many of whom probably had no idea of how to strike up a conversation, nor would they be able too with the music so loud.

I surveyed all this from my seat, sipping my drink, a Gin and Tonic (which tasted strange) and observing the festivities. It was all fairly new to me, and yet not. I was almost 100% sure that I had never been clubbing before, yet this scene was so familiar. It was laughable and yet incredibly sad.

Looking out at the people dancing in the dark, my heart broke with compassion for them, knowing that the vast majority were here searching for something far more than what they would find. Whether through the drink, the smoke, the drugs or the dance, everyone there was searching for something to fill that void within. That emptiness that no longer existed within me.

My heart broke most of all for the girls, here, in places such as this, seen as objects of desire, not of respect and beauty. You could literally see, in the eyes and actions of many of those girls, just how many of them were searching for a man to lend them some strength, to see them for more than just their bodies, but for their soul. For a man to love them... even amongst the group that I was with, friends I had just met a few weeks ago, their plight was so evident. Each of them yearned to find joy, to find an experience of something worth more, and of men who would protect and defend them, not use and abuse. Of course you often couldn't tell that by how they were dressed or acted... and that was probably the saddest part of all.

All this I watched, my eyes impartially sweeping the room, dancing when I felt the beat, drinking slowly, taking in the experience. Noting how much people were seeking a spiritual, out of body, beyond physical experience. It was so surreal, was I really seeing what I did, or was it merely my imagination?

Suddenly the lights and music were cut, and even as cries of frustration and anger ripped through the air, the glass from the roof exploded. The cries turned to screams and both young men and women dropped to the floor, faces buried in their arms.

Out of the darkness above dropped men dressed in dark counter-terrorist fatigues. They slipped through the air, gloved hands sliding over the fly wires that were attached to something above, pistols aimed at anyone who moved around the room.

"FREEZE!" They cried, apparently in several languages, but I was far too pre-occupied to notice. "POLICE!"

In response I noticed several young men, all seated around a near by round table, reach into their jackets. There were all wearing dark suits and tie less white shirts. Immediately I realized who they were.

'This could get ugly' I thought, my mind flashing over the available options. I came to the conclusion that an all out gun fight could prove hazardous to the large number of innocent civilians in the room, so the question was really who to side with.

Well that much was obvious, as I did always believe in co-operating with the law, except, perhaps, when speed limits were concerned.

My hands flicked open as I activated the spring loaded throwing knife holsters beneath my jacket. In each hand three knives sprung into place and I them clutched between my fingers. With as little motion as possible I flung them at the men in black even as they ripped pistols from beneath their jackets. Two of the 8 doubled over, clutching at the blades embedded in their arms.



I realized that I'd need more knives.

Even as I threw the remaining blades in my right hand, pegging another 3 gangsters, the remaining few had unfortunately noticed me, and now their pistols were pointed in my direction.

"Oh snap," I breathed, slamming my foot down on a near by table as they fired. The table tipped on it's side, the long edge rising into the air to catch the bullets as they flew towards me and my friends.

"Get down!" I bellowed as I dropped to the floor.

As I looked up, the music had begun again and the table had tipped over, liquid was everywhere.

"Are you alright mate?" asked one of my friends, offering me a hand to help me up.

Laughing sheepishly, I smiled, "yeah, completely, didn't get any alcohol on me, really dodged a bullet there I guess."

They all laughed. Perhaps they were closer to getting drunk than I had thought.