The following is an attempt at making an actual fic 'series' out of DDR, using the characters from 4th Mix (and, maybe later on, 5th as well). I claim to own nothing but the premise of this story. DDR and its characters are © Konami. Apologies to Re-Flex (and Paul Van Dyk) for the title.
Club Revolution: The Politics of Dancing
01: Get On My Groovy Train
"How did we get stuck doing this?" groused Jack Boldo, as he lugged a heavy box marked 'Strobes' into the loading area of the old warehouse—formerly a rubber glove factory, soon to be a premier night spot (or so he hoped). The unusually warm, balmy afternoon, coupled with the strenuous labor, was causing beads of sweat to roll down his forehead. Worse than that, his afro—his beautiful afro!—was starting to get dewy as well. "Where the hell are those guys we're paying by the hour to unload?"
"Out back taking a break," answered his business and dance partner, Tracy Lyze, as she followed with another, considerably lighter box, this one marked 'Menus'. "They say it's Union policy."
"Break, my ass…they haven't done any work since they got here!" Boldo muttered, ripping open the box flaps. He'd seen the way they'd been tossing the boxes into the truck earlier that day, and if any of the lights were broken…well, he'd simply be forced to get medieval on their asses.
Tracy set her own box down and regarded him with an amused grin. "Are we just a little on edge today, Jack?" she teased in her light Jamaican accent.
Boldo sighed and sat down on the hard concrete floor. "Are you kidding? I've done nothing but worry ever since we bought this place. I'm just not looking forward to going back to Chicago with my tail between my legs when this club bombs." He did have a reputation there to maintain, after all. City Dance Championship trophies for the last five years, in both Freestyle and Hip-Hop categories. The distinct honor of being featured on 50 consecutive Soul Train episodes. Being named 'Most Soulful Brother in Chicago' by Dance Craze magazine. If this fell through…he'd be laughed all the way back to the mall breakdancing circuit.
Tracy shook her head, still smiling. "This club is not going to bomb, Jack. This is a good market to tap into. More than half the kids around here sneak off to raves every weekend. Don't you think their parents would rather see them off here, than to some back-alley Ecstasy feeding frenzy?" She gestured with one toned caramel-brown arm to the main dance floor, just beyond the loading zone. "It might not look like much at the moment, but…it's got a good future. I can feel it."
Boldo looked out at the dance floor, with its partially-installed Plexiglass tiles that could be lit up underneath, then back at his partner. Sometimes she seemed infinitely wiser than her 22 years.
He allowed himself a grin. "Yeah…I guess."
Tracy grinned back, her warm brown eyes reassuring, but the moment was broken by a surly shout from out back. "Hey, Mr. Baldo! Where do you want this toy machine thing to go?"
"It's Boldo!" came the irritable shout in return. Tracy giggled. "Just put it in back, by the restrooms!"
Boldo put on his best defeated expression as the teamster wheeled the UFO catcher through on a dolly. "We're insane for doing this, right?"
"Oh, yes," Tracy replied. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
***
Next chapter: Emi's got a sense of Rage…
Club Revolution: The Politics of Dancing
01: Get On My Groovy Train
"How did we get stuck doing this?" groused Jack Boldo, as he lugged a heavy box marked 'Strobes' into the loading area of the old warehouse—formerly a rubber glove factory, soon to be a premier night spot (or so he hoped). The unusually warm, balmy afternoon, coupled with the strenuous labor, was causing beads of sweat to roll down his forehead. Worse than that, his afro—his beautiful afro!—was starting to get dewy as well. "Where the hell are those guys we're paying by the hour to unload?"
"Out back taking a break," answered his business and dance partner, Tracy Lyze, as she followed with another, considerably lighter box, this one marked 'Menus'. "They say it's Union policy."
"Break, my ass…they haven't done any work since they got here!" Boldo muttered, ripping open the box flaps. He'd seen the way they'd been tossing the boxes into the truck earlier that day, and if any of the lights were broken…well, he'd simply be forced to get medieval on their asses.
Tracy set her own box down and regarded him with an amused grin. "Are we just a little on edge today, Jack?" she teased in her light Jamaican accent.
Boldo sighed and sat down on the hard concrete floor. "Are you kidding? I've done nothing but worry ever since we bought this place. I'm just not looking forward to going back to Chicago with my tail between my legs when this club bombs." He did have a reputation there to maintain, after all. City Dance Championship trophies for the last five years, in both Freestyle and Hip-Hop categories. The distinct honor of being featured on 50 consecutive Soul Train episodes. Being named 'Most Soulful Brother in Chicago' by Dance Craze magazine. If this fell through…he'd be laughed all the way back to the mall breakdancing circuit.
Tracy shook her head, still smiling. "This club is not going to bomb, Jack. This is a good market to tap into. More than half the kids around here sneak off to raves every weekend. Don't you think their parents would rather see them off here, than to some back-alley Ecstasy feeding frenzy?" She gestured with one toned caramel-brown arm to the main dance floor, just beyond the loading zone. "It might not look like much at the moment, but…it's got a good future. I can feel it."
Boldo looked out at the dance floor, with its partially-installed Plexiglass tiles that could be lit up underneath, then back at his partner. Sometimes she seemed infinitely wiser than her 22 years.
He allowed himself a grin. "Yeah…I guess."
Tracy grinned back, her warm brown eyes reassuring, but the moment was broken by a surly shout from out back. "Hey, Mr. Baldo! Where do you want this toy machine thing to go?"
"It's Boldo!" came the irritable shout in return. Tracy giggled. "Just put it in back, by the restrooms!"
Boldo put on his best defeated expression as the teamster wheeled the UFO catcher through on a dolly. "We're insane for doing this, right?"
"Oh, yes," Tracy replied. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
***
Next chapter: Emi's got a sense of Rage…