Up at 2;30 AM, your heart's racing like mad, you've been rousted from peaceful slumber by a Ungodly Alarm bell that sounds throughout the bunkroom. Guys are up, donning their gear, flying out the door to the apparatus bay, grabbing helmets, mounting their rigs, slamming doors shut, hanging on as the rig races out into a dark night, but you can see the glow that looks like sunrise or sunset...it's a massive fire and you're on your way to it, and suddenly as you're still pulling on a nomex hood, snapping your turnout coat closed tightly, that sign on the refrigerator pops into your head..."Will tonight be the night!?" You're going to "Dance with the Devil". Will he take you for his permanent partner? The siren, wails its lament on your fire truck weaving through traffic, racing you to uncertainty.