Willing to Die for Diebold

Jim spotted him as he turned the corner just passed the restrooms. After he splashed water on his face,feeling slightly psychotic and ill, he spat on the burgundy carpet and slithered into the next hall. Steaming hot he pried his way through the crowd casually nodding to the imposing beat.

He played it off like he didn't see him at first, kept his eyes on the gyrating ass in front of him, and played the role assigned to him by the beat, orders he was under an extreme obligation to perform. He felt the vibrating ring in his jeans pocket of his cell phone pressed against another young rump as the record changed, phone vibrating away in the cross fade.

But he did spot him. The guy at the far end of the floor was moving now, barking orders into a much smarter looking cell phone than the one Jim had, this one had a chrome finish and made the user look lethal and important.

Jim had no choice now but bury himself further within the crowd, become part of the sweltering heat, melt into the crowd and the amorphic mass it inhabited. He leaned over, bending towards arms and flailing hips, legs and hair, permed and straight, naturally curly and artificially colored.

Sweat clung to his face and dripping into his eyes, not allowing him to notice the new accomplices the man had gained which now flanked the crowd on either side with arms crossed revealing gold rings, broad elbows and neatly-trimmed facial hair.

Jim wouldn't see this until a few minutes later after acquiring a different t-shirt and hat from unwilling members of the crowd. He caught the movement of one of the bouncers in his peripheries and lept to the ground immediately. Instinctually he grabbed the nearest tanned female ankle he could find, and pulled the unwitting accomplis onto the floor. She screamed as the first shots were fired, dispersing the crowd.

Jim was now standing with his new dance partner at his side, staring at the group of men whose words were consumed by the deafening beats. They spat on the floor and raised their arms in a violently inviting way. Gunfire was heard after the record was stopped by the momentum of the dead DJ falling onto the sole turntable.

Jim's hand was gripped tightly on the stranger’s hand when it went limp and her body fell to the floor without a sound.

"So you wanna talk to us now or what?" The man Jim first spotted outside of the John screamed as he walked over to him grabbed him by the hair and threw him to the floor. "There won’t be a fucking paper trail in those voting machines and that's final, my bosses are very inflexible on that one."