Rhythm and Ray: A DJ’s Journey

[Chapter 17: Deadmau5]

Next morning, Ryan and his friends appeared at the Harpoon Harry's Bar, a wooden building perched on the beach. To prevent it from being swallowed by the tides, the structure was raised on wooden stilts. With its wooden railings, staircases, and red swim rings hanging from the walls, the place looked just like a scene straight out of a movie. At that moment, flags for the Beach Bash music festival fluttered outside, and there was an impressive crowd, even though it was only ten in the morning.

The night before, Ryan had joined his friends at a "Wet T-Shirt Party." Similar to other social gatherings, it featured some suggestive activities to liven up the atmosphere, fueled further by the effects of alcohol, all aimed at achieving a quick hookup. Ryan had indeed left with a college senior from Florida, a tall blonde with thick waves and fiery red lips, embodying the classic Hollywood bombshell. However, the numerous tattoos covering her body had cooled his interest, leading him to decline her invitation and return alone to his hotel.

Now, Ryan noticed the flag announcing today's performing DJs. Skimming over names he had never heard of, one stuck out to him -- Deadmau5. This Canadian DJ, whose name literally meant "dead mouse," had gained a bit of fame in North America. His stage name came from an incident when he found a dead mouse inside his computer while changing the graphics card. Due to character limits in IRC chat, he shortened it to the numeric "5." He was renowned for wearing a giant mouse head resembling Mickey, and Ryan couldn't help but wonder if Disney's legal team had taken notice.

"We need to get inside; the show is about to start, and we need to grab a good spot," Paul said as he put his arm around Ryan's shoulder, casually scanning the area for attractive girls.

Ryan turned to the side and saw Abigail chatting with a group of cheerleaders. She wore a floral shirt with denim short shorts that accentuated her legs. When she caught Ryan's gaze, she deliberately looked away, likely still miffed about Ryan's "heartless abandonment" from the night before.

"It's not even noon yet!" someone called out.

"Exactly! Ever heard of a day club? It's when the party starts at peak daylight, signified by a huge indoor pool," Paul replied, sipping his coconut drink through a straw.

...

Guided by Paul, they entered the bar. Seeing how crowded the ground floor was, they decided to head upstairs, where they lined up along the railing. While there were no seats, the view allowed them to overlook the entire party scene.

Ryan took in the surroundings with interest. This small music festival was a lot more popular than he had imagined; the floor was packed, almost shoulder to shoulder, making it hard to turn around.

Paul soon sent two of them to get drinks. By then, a warming act had kicked off; an unknown DJ was spinning. In Ryan's opinion, the noise was far from pleasant compared to the crystal sounds of Termor, although the crowd seemed to enjoy it.

As Ryan aimlessly glanced around, something caught his eye...

Not far away, Abigail and some girls were bobbing their heads along with the beat, occasionally looking over at Ryan, who was now intensely focused on a corner of the lower level.

Following his gaze, Abigail saw three guys trying to pick up girls in the crowd.

"The same three from the beach yesterday!" Abigail gasped, rushing over to Ryan.

"You saw them too, right? Call the cops!" Ryan whispered urgently in her ear as he recognized their signature dreadlock style.

Just then, Paul returned, handing Ryan a large red plastic cup filled with a green liquid, which had a blue layer floating on top.

"Classic tequila mixed with a clear wave drink along with melon and green apple liqueur. The blue stuff on top is blue curacao. We call it 'Swamp.'... Oh, Ryan, what's wrong?" Paul said, noticing Ryan's serious expression.

Ryan explained what had happened at the beach the previous night.

"Those guys should be chemically castrated!" Paul cursed. "What do we do now?"

Abigail returned after calling the police, "They'll be here in a few minutes. Let's keep an eye on those three."

Ryan shared a concerned glance with Paul, then called over another member of the football team, a solid defense lineman named Hank.

The trio quietly made their way downstairs, each taking up positions near exits, awaiting the police while Abigail stayed upstairs to monitor the suspects' movements, maintaining contact via her phone.

...

"They're still close, not moving..." Abigail informed Ryan through the earpiece.

Minutes later, Ryan heard the shrill wail of police sirens approaching.

All they needed was for the officers to surround the area and close in... Ryan thought.

Suddenly, the powerful bass dropped, and shouts rang through, "Panama City Police! Everyone stay still!"

Crap! Ryan cursed the ineffective shout from the officers.

Instead of controlling the situation, the police's arrival only intensified the chaos; people urgently pushed through, screams echoed from all around.

"They're trying to slip out the back!" Abigail said in his ear.

...

With no time to waste, Ryan cut through the crowd to signal the police along with Paul and Hank. He dashed to the courtyard, where a large pool was surrounded by people in swimsuits. In the confusion, he spotted the three men hurrying away and started sprinting after them with the police close behind.

"Move aside!" Ryan yelled at the crowd.

Before he could reach them, the three noticed the commotion behind them and escalated their pace to a full run. They were fast, but Ryan managed to keep up, with the police lagging behind.

As the trio reached a dead end, they rushed through the partially open door of a room. Ryan followed closely and discovered a group of men and women inside, two women in bikinis and three men in T-shirts and jeans, who didn't look like spring breakers at all. Several electronic devices cluttered the table.

...

Cornered, the three men didn't hesitate and charged at Ryan just as Paul and Hank arrived, leading to a three-on-three brawl.

The three black men had solid builds, and Ryan's group held their own too, as all were football players. For a moment, neither side gained an advantage.

Ryan found himself against the strongest of them, who immediately knocked him down. In a panic, Ryan groped around and seized a round object that resembled a ball; he swung it wildly at his opponent.

After a few hits, the ball, wrapped with red cloth and primarily made of plastic, burst into pieces, slicing the guy's face. Seizing the moment, Ryan threw several punches, landing them squarely on his opponent's face with lightning speed. The guy's head tilted back in shock, seemingly knocked out.

Just as Ryan let his guard down, the man snapped back to life and quickly applied a grappling technique, restricting Ryan's movement and locking his legs around Ryan's neck. Ryan felt the tight grip as his face turned a shade of purple, blood rushing to his temples.

In his moment of despair, a figure suddenly crashed onto the scene, stomping down hard on the black man's face, repeatedly pummeling him into submission.

The grip loosened, and Ryan broke free to find it was Abigail, despite the danger, she had followed him in.

This time, Ryan didn't hesitate. He snatched a tool from the table and hurled it at his opponent before executing a flying kick that sent the aggressor crashing down.

...

Meanwhile, Hank had subdued his combatant, smacking a metallic object across the guy's face, knocking him unconscious.

Only Paul found himself overwhelmed; he had sustained a cut to his chest and was trying to hold off his opponent with his legs. But before Ryan and Hank could assist, the adversary broke free and bolted from the room.

Luckily, the police had finally arrived, and together they apprehended the last suspect in a flurry of punches and kicks.

The officer, clearly in charge, yelled, "Damn you bastard!" while kicking the black man in the stomach. Nearby, spectators gathered, some whipping out their video cameras to capture the scene.

...

As the police took control, Ryan finally exhaled, relief washing over him. In hindsight, he realized how precarious the situation could have been; if those men had weapons, he could have been the one lying down. If given the chance again, he would surely avoid such risky confrontations.

"You okay?" Abigail approached Ryan immediately, concern etched across her face.

Ryan gestured to her foot. Not only had she lost her flip-flop in the chaos, but her foot also bore a nasty cut.

However, Abigail was too preoccupied worrying about Ryan to acknowledge her own pain.

"So, this isn't a movie, right?" Ryan heard a voice behind him.

Turning, he saw a man picking up pieces scattered across the floor.

Ryan squinted, and it dawned on him that the fragmented pieces formed an unusual shape: a giant helmet with two round ears, reminiscent of something from a Disney animation.

At this moment, Ryan finally realized that the "ball" he had clutched in panic was indeed DJ Deadmau5's trademark mouse head helmet.

The man's identity was now clear.

"Mr. Zimmerman, it's your turn..." a festival staff member approached, surveying the disarray of equipment with an utterly speechless expression.

*****

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