Chapter 1 #2
A complicated lighting system has been rigged up on the walls and ceiling with lasers and flashing lights that pulse and flash along with the beat of the music.
The floor is covered with a thin layer of mist, like from a smoke machine, only it’s not dissipating at all.
Massive speakers dot the space, and there’s a small, elevated booth surrounded by plexiglass where Helix, the featured DJ, is working his equipment while a small crowd of people dance enthusiastically in front of him.
A huge projector screen has been set up behind the DJ booth, and the images on it shift between kaleidoscope-type imagery that’s trippy as fuck to hyper-realistic images of flames and fires that are perfectly timed to the music.
The overall effect is like being in sensory overload, and exactly the kind of escapism I’m looking for.
Pulling out my phone, I send off a quick text.
Jon: I’m here
I wait about ten seconds for an answer, then tuck my phone away when it stays quiet. Might as well check the place out while I wait for my “date” to get back to me.
Keeping close to the walls and shadows, I do a sweep of the area, taking in every detail as I look for anything that could be a threat or a problem.
There’s not much in the room other than the crowd, the DJ booth, and the equipment.
I don’t see any guards or anyone who looks like they’re there as private security for any of the attendees, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any security around.
Behind the massive projection screen is a second exit/entrance that’s surrounded by large trolleys piled with empty tote bags and other things that could transport all the equipment they brought in, but I can’t get close enough to it to test if it’s locked or not.
I don’t like the idea of being trapped underground with only one accessible exit, but it’s not a deal-breaker tonight.
Against the far wall are three doors with large, stenciled X’s painted on them, and instead of joining the throng of dancers, I head over to check them out now that I know the main room is secure.
I’ve just reached the first door when the music changes from an EDM song to a metalcore/house mashup, which is the type of music that Helix, the DJ, is known for, and I pause to let the music flow over me.
I’ve never seen Helix live before, but I’ve been listening to his mixes for years, and there’s something about them that just hits different from the dozens, if not hundreds, of other DJs I’ve heard over the years.
I’ll never admit this to anyone, especially not my date, but one of the main reasons I accepted this invite is that he was the featured talent.
If I’m going to travel across the country to go to a rave with someone I met a week ago, I need more than just the possibility of getting some action to motivate me.
My eyes lock on Helix as he pushes and flips different switches on his equipment, his head bobbing along to the beat and his trademark mask glowing under the hood he always wears.
No one knows anything about who Helix is, and the lore around him is even more mysterious than the pop-up rave we’re at.
He’s been on the scene for the past four years, but he only does a half dozen performances a year, if that. Sometimes they’re huge festivals with crowds in the tens of thousands, and other times it’s an exclusive and off-the-grid rave like this one.
He’s never done any interviews, doesn’t attend events or award shows, even when he’s nominated, and has never accepted any of the awards he’s won. He’s also not signed to a label, and he releases his music through an untraceable numbered company.
No one knows his age, his background, or any details about him other than he’s a white guy, and that’s only because he doesn’t wear gloves, so we can see his hands when he’s working, and he always dresses head to toe in black and wears the same glowing red mask under an oversized hood.
He’s a complete mystery, and he’s gone out of his way to make sure he stays that way.
Normally I don’t give a fuck about the personal lives of celebrities or artists, but the fact that he’s done everything he can to hide who he is makes me curious about him.
I like puzzles, and the best way to make me want something is to tell me I can’t have it.
He looks up from his equipment and turns his head in my direction, and I’m able to see all of his mask under his oversized hood.
The white molded plastic looks eerily like a mannequin face, but it’s the fluorescent red lights outlining the mask and the X’s over his eyes and mouth that are his signature look.
The mask looks a lot like the ones in that movie where everyone goes berserk and commits whatever crimes they want once a year, but his version is even more eerie.
I’m only about twenty feet from his booth, and even though I know he isn’t looking at me, a prickle of awareness moves through me as it feels like we get locked in a sort of stare-off.
The music swells, and he looks back down at his equipment as he triggers the drop. The crowd goes apeshit as the lights and other effects shift into an epic transition that perfectly matches every beat of the music as strobe lights flicker and towers of sparks ignite next to the projector screen.
Shaking off whatever the fuck that was, I push open the door to the first room and step inside a small space to find a fully stocked bar tucked up against the back wall and high tables scattered around for people to use if they want a break from the music, and the smell of booze and weed is heavy in the air.
The bar, the tables, and even the doorframe and parts of the walls are lit with strips of LED lights that shift from blue to purple to pink in calming waves. The room has good soundproofing, and the music is quiet enough that you can hold a conversation without having to raise your voice.
Instead of getting a drink, I slip back out into the main room and make my way over to the next door.
Behind it is an even smaller room that’s so dark it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust again, but the scattered black lights are enough to show me it’s not empty as flashes of glowing white clothes move around the room.
My eyes are drawn to my stamp as it also glows, and the muted sounds of people enjoying the cover of darkness, and the distinct ways some of them are moving around tell me this is the smash room.
I’ve seen rooms like this before at various clubs and pop-up events, but never one that’s as dark and anonymous as this one.
Not bothering to look around, I leave and go to the last door.
Inside is another small area that’s lit up the same as the first room and has the same vibe as the smash room, but instead of having a bar, it’s full of couches and chairs and is most likely meant to be where people can enjoy the various nonalcoholic favors they’ve gotten their hands on.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m leaving the favor room, and I pause next to the wall so I can read the text I just got.
Layan: I’m running late. Be there soon x
Another text loads, and it’s a photo of her in a white bodycon dress that looks like a complicated mess of cutouts and bandages that wouldn’t be out of place on a sexy mummy costume.
I send back a few suggestive emoji and slip my phone away.
I have a hard rule for when someone doesn’t show up when they say they will, and she’s got exactly one hour before I bail. Not even that dress and the promise of getting to unravel it from around her tight body is enough to make me wait even a second longer.
Now that I have some time to kill, I slip back into the first room to grab a drink.
“What can I get you?” one of the bartenders asks as soon as I step up to the glowing bar.
I scan the row of bottles behind him and quickly settle on my go-to drink despite the array of expensive and exotic choices. “Vodka soda.”
The bartender pulls one of those stamp readers out from under the bar top and holds it out.
That’s weird. I’ve never been to an event that scanned people’s stamps before they could get a drink, especially when the drinks are provided and it’s not a cash bar.
I want to ask why this is necessary, but I also know the bartender is just the messenger. He’s just a guy they hired to make drinks, not the guy making decisions about protocol, so I stick my hand under the reader without saying a word.
Once the reader flashes, he puts it away and makes my drink with skilled hands, then passes it to me with a friendly smile.
Taking a sip of the cool liquid, I wander back out into the main room. The drink is strong, and I welcome the familiar burn of the alcohol as I lean against the wall and scope out the crowd while they dance.
The room is teeming with hot women in club clothes, but my gaze keeps returning to Helix as he works his magic behind the plexiglass booth.
One thing I love about his music is how everything feels like a villain song with sweeping intros, dramatic drops, sinister voiceovers, and eerie effects that are extra in the best way possible.
And his talent for mixing songs from genres that shouldn’t go together and making them sound like orchestral masterpieces is unmatched.
Like the current song is Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain” remixed with parts of songs by Dayseeker, Bad Omens, and Sleep Token. Logically, it doesn’t seem like any of it should work, but it absolutely does.
It doesn’t take long to finish my drink, and I head back into the bar to get another one. But instead of dancing or wandering around the room, I park my ass against the wall a few dozen feet from the DJ booth and enjoy the music while I sip my drink.
For the most part, people leave me alone while I pass the time observing the crowd, but a few very intoxicated girls—and one guy—try to coax me onto the dance floor with them.
Usually I’d be all over that and wouldn’t think twice about making some new “friends,” but I’m not feeling it tonight. So instead of taking them up on what they’re offering, I stay in my spot and wait to see if my date shows up or if I’m going back to my hotel alone.
I’m just finishing my drink when my hour-long countdown ends, but instead of leaving, I decide to stick around for a while.
It’s not like I’ll get the chance to see Helix play live again any time soon; I might as well enjoy the music before I bounce.
Leaning back against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest. The world is getting a bit dull around the edges, and that’s my cue to stop drinking.
I can drink my face off with the best of them, but I have a rule about not getting shit-faced when I’m around strangers.
If one of my cousins or frat brothers were with me, I’d be double fisting shots and enjoying the favor room like a champ, but not when I’m alone.
I need to keep a clear head in case shit goes sideways.
A strange sensation moves through me, and it’s not the typical rush telling me the booze is kicking in.
It almost feels like when you drink piping hot coffee too fast and it warms you from the inside, but there’s a heaviness to it that’s making my chest tight, like there’s something constricting it each time I pull in a breath.
My thoughts are getting hazy, but there’s a sense of euphoria under the buzz of alcohol, and a weird, giddy feeling settles over me.
A part of me knows I should be freaking the fuck out, or at least be concerned by this unusual reaction to a few drinks, but the bigger part of me is content to just enjoy it because it feels good.
The buzzing of my phone in my pocket brings me back to reality, and I pull it out to check my texts.
Layan: almost there. see you soon xox
I blink at the screen a few times. The time stamp says it’s been over an hour since the last time I looked at my phone, but that doesn’t make any sense.
How the hell did I lose over an hour of time when it feels like only minutes have passed?
Still confused as fuck, I slip my phone back in my pocket without answering her. She missed her window, and losing any amount of time is my cue to get the fuck out of here.
I’m just pushing off the wall when movement in the DJ booth catches my attention, and I watch as some dude steps in and takes over for Helix.
My gaze is locked on Helix as he jumps down from the booth and reaches under his hood. The red glowing lights from his mask shut down, and he disappears behind the projection screen.
I give my head a little shake to try and clear my senses. It’s time to get the fuck out of here, but before I can move, a black-clad figure steps out from behind the screen and walks toward me.