NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6
10:50 AM September 13th 2026
Radio Empire Concert Hall New York, NY
Backstage was bustling as sound and light crews jogged and speed-walked through the final preparations for the show. Backup dancers, showboating rockstars, and the puffed-up wannabes who were going on before the main lineup made for colorful and flamboyant obstacles as they ducked in and out of dressing rooms calling for makeup artists, hairdressers, and last-minute costume alterations.
Of course, there were the inevitable groupies too. Wearing outfits that were too tight and consisting of too little material to justify the outrageous prices of designer clothes. One particular groupie in a loud purple jacket and jean shorts, with back pockets hanging out a hem that might as well have belonged to a bikini, caught Deveraux’s attention. His long blonde hair swirled loosely around his shoulders as he spun to watch her go by.
He wasn’t checking her out. No. But her aura was out of control. Angry and swirled up with hints of vengeance and rage. In the dressing room she had just walked out of the band was gathered around a pre-concert snack table filled with baked goods.
There was a small tingle of magic surrounding the food. Not enough to set off the security monitors or affect the electronics of the building; but enough to be no good if the dark spell coiled through the cookies was anything to judge by. Deveraux considered going in to warn the main attraction yet was discouraged by the dour-faced security guard at the door.
“You might want to warn the band to not eat any of the…whelp…never mind…” He had tried, but the leather-clad young men had already started stuffing treats into their mouths.
“They wouldn’t have listened anyways. Not when there are ‘magic cookies’ to eat." The security guard harrumphed with disdain. The way he had made air quotes when speaking the words ‘magic cookies’ implied that the band was expecting something recreational.
“OH…” The long-haired hippie…or maybe he was a hipster douchebag…sucked in a sympathetic breath through his teeth. "It’s not the kind of magic they think it is this time. The girl who just left was very upset." He shook his head and shrugged as the security guard laughed before heading into the room to wrangle some discipline into his charges.
The show would be starting any moment now and Deveraux wanted to get a last look at his makeup before heading up on stage. He ducked into his dressing room and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. Checking it for messages and then setting it to silent, he chucked his phone into his bag.
Wouldn’t do for it to go off while he was performing and distract him. Or worse, for it to be picked up on a microphone. Or…worst of all, for him to lose it. The thought made him pale, and he blanched at himself in the mirror while he was giving his makeup a cursory final glance.
He looked good. He knew he looked good. Muscular? Toned? Long sexy hair? Check. Check. And check! Jeans that made his butt pop? Check. He headed up to the stage prepared to face the biggest audience he had ever Deejayed for.
While the sound crew next to the stage fitted him with his wireless mic, he could hear the announcer introducing him. He blushed and grinned when the crowd cheered for DJ Deveraux as he jogged and jumped out on stage. Raising his hands like a prizefighter for the crowd to cheer.
They weren’t really cheering for him. They were cheering for the main act that would be coming out later on, but DJ Deveraux didn’t mind one bit riding the high their response gave him. After all, how often did he get to shed his normal persona of a responsible husband and father to indulge in his craving for praise and use his talents in Technomagery the way he loved most? Back in his changing room, his phone in his bag was ringing with a call he was missing from his wife.
10:50 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Two individuals in black padded motorcycle gear with molded black body armor sped through the streets of New York City without a care for the flow of traffic. They weaved and dodged expertly among the sparse vehicles in an industrial part of town as they headed toward their quarry.
Their target was an innocuous everyday average moving truck. It moved placidly along at the average speed of traffic. There wasn’t anything to call attention to it aside from the fact that maybe it was unusual for it to be in this part of town. Though not out of the question.
It was the kind of moving truck anyone could rent for about fifty bucks a day. It was shades of blue and white with the Mountain King Mover’s logo of ice-capped mountains under their name in gold. A company that reliably had franchise locations in every large city and small town in America.
Not until the driver of the truck heard the two cyclists and glanced in his side view mirrors to see them pulling up behind him did the moving truck have anything about it which would draw attention to it. Once the driver realized he was being pursued, his behavior changed drastically. The truck accelerated and passed the vehicles ahead of it, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with an oncoming flat-bed semi, laden with small crates.
The semi swerved off the side of the road. Water exploded from barrier barrels as it impacted. Restraints securing it precariously stacked boxes snapped and the crates toppled from the flatbed and spilled across the road. The two individuals in pursuit dodged the rolling boxes.
One motorcycle nearly crashed the armor on the rider’s kneepad sparking on the pavement as the vehicle slid onto its side. The rider released the handlebars with the hand closest to the ground and punched the pavement, launching themselves and their vehicle back upright with a visible shockwave of magical force.
A chase was on, and the pursuing motorcyclists gunned their engines as they followed determinedly. Behind the speeding vehicles, a crack split the road where the fallen rider had righted themselves. Traffic in both directions was stopped by the widening rift in the ground.