Believe In Me

A hard club beat grew louder and louder, emanating from a pyramid-shaped building with a glowing top. A large sign on the side of the building read: CLUB POLARITY. Next to the sign was the ViGen company logo. 

Outside, a smooth black motorcycle with no spokes pulled up to the parking lot. Its rider removed his helmet, revealing a 16-year-old with green eyes. Most of his hair was jet-black, except for two long bangs that were green as well. Oddly, the green hair didn't look like dye. His name was Noa.

A group of men laughed loudly and smoked in the center of the parking lot. A tall man with an "X" shaped tattoo on his face leaned against a sleek white hovercar. He threw a bottle on the ground and yelled, "Hell yeah! Let's party!" His posse strolled inside, and Noa snarled. The richer the brat, the more trouble they brought.

For a split second, he saw a man running across the edge of the parking lot with a gun. Noa squinted at the man and rubbed his eyes. 

The man looked like he was covered in... was that blood? The man was gone in a flash, and Noa shook his head. Must've been his imagination.

***

Inside, the club was packed. People were dressed in tight street clothes with glowing strip lights. The club's large neon signs blinked on and off. People danced and grind to the music. Details of individuals were lost in the dark crowd.

The only things that stood out were the parts of them that glowed. The DJ used black boxes and glass hologram boards to control the music.

All the patrons had glowing blue chips on the back of their necks. The bartenders, DJ, bouncer, and other workers did not. This included Noa, who was holding a tablet offstage, wearing his stagehand uniform, mesmerized by the beat. He was staring at the DJ, nodding his head to the music, watching every move the DJ made and every button he pressed. Noa instinctively copied some of his movements.

The music hit its crescendo. Noa's heart beat fast. The DJ dropped the beat, and the crowd went wild. Holograms of horses emerged from the ceiling and galloped above the crowd. Noa stared in awe.

The enchantment was broken by a voice calling his name, urgent and insistent. Turning, Noa saw a tall figure clad in a shimmering silver suit, his face hidden behind a sleek black helmet. "I thought I was already supposed to be on!" the figure said.

"It's 11:25," Noa replied, checking his watch. "Still got five minutes." His attention was swiftly drawn to a large, bald man—Fuyuhiro—hurrying backstage, clutching potato chips in his hand. Noa swiftly followed behind.

Backstage was a hive of activity, Fuyuhiro darting back and forth, his voice booming as he urged the stagehands to hasten their preparations. Noa, undeterred by the chaos, pressed on, calling out Fuyuhiro's name with a persistence that bordered on desperation. 

Fuyuhiro, upon noticing Noa, halted his frenetic pace, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

"What do you want?" he queried, his tone dismissive. Noa, undaunted, said, "Triple Matrix hasn't singed the contract to play New Year's tomorrow. He agreed, but he didn't sign yet."

Fuyuhiro shrugged. "Your point? "Noa cleared his throat, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I've been working doubles for the past week, and you know I've been practicing--"

Fuyuhiro, cutting him short, sighed heavily. "We've been down this road before, Noa. Last time I let you up there, half the people left." Noa, refusing to be deterred, countered, "That was a year ago! Look, I've gotten better at transitions and--"

Fuyuhiro, his patience wearing thin, stopped Noa in his tracks. "I know, but it's more than that, kid! You've got no style." He pulled back the curtains, revealing the DJ, the pulsating beats of his music reverberating through the air. "That's the sound of money. A unique sound that draws the crowds. I've heard your tracks, Noa. They lack that... spark. I can't let you play that basic stuff here."

 Fuyuhiro turned and walked away, leaving Noa standing alone, the weight of rejection pressing heavily upon him. Around him, the world seemed to fade, his hopes and dreams drowned out by the relentless beat of the music, a stark reminder of the gulf between his aspirations and reality.

Noa walked briskly to the bar, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He removed his earpiece and surveyed the room. His gaze settled on the stage where DJs were switching sets, the crowd erupting in cheers as the new one entered. Noa narrowed his eyes, a mixture of envy and determination etched on his face.

A voice called out from behind the bar, "Let me guess, he said yes?" Noa turned to face the bartender, Jack, who was sporting a wide grin. Noa glared at him, his annoyance palpable.  Jack was not just his co-worker but his classmate. He  had sharp features and was extremely tall and lanky. 

Noa looked away, his jaw clenched tight. Jack, seemingly unfazed, retrieved a bottle from the top shelf and poured two shots of glowing yellow liquid. 

He set the bottle down and pushed one shot towards Noa. Jack took his shot and made a face, the liquid too strong for his liking. Noa, on the other hand, downed his shot like it was water. He then poured himself a second and downed that one too.

"Maybe he won't hire you because you drink on the job," Jack said with a grin, "You need better friends." Noa stared at the crowd, his disgust evident. "Look at these assholes. They waste money and drink all night while we have to work our asses off! I wish they'd just drop dead." 

"It's not all bad!” said Jack, “At least Fuyuhiro is letting us work here over the break. I mean, we are both only 16."

"Almost everyone who works here is in high school! He likes cheap labor. He's an idiot too," Said Noa. Noa poured another shot, his frustration mounting. "What do they got that I don't got?"

 Jack shrugged. "Money, clothes, cars, a future..."

"You're so supportive." 

 "Not to mention they're 'saved'. What else are errors like us to do? We have to work hard to get chips like they do and become normal."

"You think all these dumb idiots 'worked hard' for their grandfather's money? For their parents' connections? For errors like us, you can't afford the chip, and without the chip, no one will hire you for anything that pays actual money. Ain't that a bitch! They say you can't achieve success without spending money, but we have no money to spend! All it takes is one loan for them to own you like a dog.”

Noa looked up at the DJ, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "But if I can get famous..."

Suddenly, a commotion at the end of the bar caught Noa's attention. A man was leaning over the bar, stacks of shot glasses beside him. A bartender, Jill, was holding a bottle of vodka and looked visibly upset. 

The man talking to her was the same one with the "X" tattoo from outside.

"Don't cut me off now, sweetheart! Besides... we're just getting to know each other," the tatted man slurred. But Jill was firm. "You've had enough. Pay your tab and get out of here."

The man's face twisted in anger. "You dirty error! You can't cut me off!" He lunged forward and grabbed Jill's shirt. Noa reacted quickly and swatted away the man's hand, breaking his grip. The man's friends tried to swing at Noa, but he dodged their punches and shoved the man against the bar, knocking over glasses.

Noa turned the drunk around and raised his fist, his other hand firmly gripped on the man's neck. He paused, his fist shaking with rage, but something was holding him back. The drunk smiled, taunting Noa. "Do it, error. Hit me."

Noa's fist was clenched tight, his entire body shaking with rage. But instead of hitting the man, he released him. The drunk stood up straight and dusted himself off with a grin. "You errors need to learn your place! You're lucky I'm not a complainer." The man touched his watch to a black square on the bar. The square chimed and flashed green. “Bill paid,” said a robotic voice. He winked at Jill. "Until next time, sweetheart."

Noa ground his teeth as he watched the man leave. None of the patrons seemed to notice, or perhaps they just didn't care. Jill wiped off some drink off the counter. "Thanks, Noa," she said blushing.

Noa replied, "Don't worry, he'll get his." "Dude! Fuyuhiro was cool enough to let us work here underage,” said Jack, “Don't mess stuff up for him now by breaking the rules! We can't harm the normies! "Noa smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Who said anything about hurting him?"
***

Outside, the man with the face tattoo was on his knees, crying as his car had mysteriously gone up in flames. Noa laughed, looking on from a nearby alley. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see... Dex!

"You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?" Dex asked sternly.