[center][h2][color=red][b]Interlude 2: Shatterpoint[/b][/color][/h2][/center]

Dim lights focused on a single seat where a particular individual person sat, draping the office room in relative darkness, save for the computer this person typed methodically upon, and the desk at which he sat. The sights and sounds of the office threatened to overwhelm his senses, despite being quite tame. The wall had a grainy texture to it but was otherwise quite bland, not at all visible in the specific lighting he had chosen for the evening. The sounds too were unremarkable. Save for the gentle chatter of his minions elsewhere in the building, the light hum of his computer’s cooling fan, and the ventilation that ran throughout the whole building, there wasn’t much of which to listen. Still, he kept a pair of earbuds plugged into his ears, not just to occupy himself with the music coming from his 1987 cassette player, but to drown out the near inaudible sounds around.

He wore his costume despite being in utter solitude. One might be forgiven for hypothesizing that it was a habit he had picked up since gaining the employment of not one but two strangers that would be capable of sneaking in undetected, but that simply wasn’t the case. This habit had been long-standing for the last two years. Ever since he had originally triggered and gained his powers, ever since he had agreed to make the Rockers with his friend, ever since his friend made the suit for him… Specially tailored just for him… It only came off when he had to go out in public. In his civilian identity. Of course, there wasn’t much need for that these days. 

The super villain known to the public as Shatterpoint continued typing away methodically. At 92 words per minute he compiled data presented by the Rockers that scouted the streets, brought to him by Creep, divulged to him by Visage. Every angle had to be postulated, every detail accounted for. So much to work through, so much to consider. It was overwhelming, burdening, a bothersome feeling growing growing growing growing stop it stop it [i]stop it right now brain![/i] [b]Beeeeeeeeeeeep,[/b] rang the alarm Shatterpoint had set to his digital watch. Without looking at his wrist he shut it off. 

The young man opened the desk drawer, working quickly to produce two pill bottles from their neat and organized spot. The bottles were set on the desk next to the computer mouse while Shatterpoint slid back in his chair and approached the water cooler near the door. The styrofoam cup felt like poison against his hand despite wearing gloves, the texture bleeding through. If not in reality, then in the core of his mind. He could [i]feel[/i] it. It wasn’t any easier to ignore as the water dispensed into the cup. His eyes fixated on the liquid held within the container, taking in all the bubbles rising to the top as the water source was disturbed. Tiny particles, unseen by most human eyes. No, not unseen. [i]Ignored[/i] by most human eyes. He couldn’t ignore them. The tiny particles, the bubbles, the styrofoam cup, it was overwhelming. Thankfully he need only take a few seconds to get the water he needed.

That chore done, Shatterpoint took his seat once again, following the exact same path he had taken to the water cooler, his feet stepping in the same indentations his feet made in the carpet the first time. Shatterpoint breathed a heavy sigh, the same sigh he always gave before this daily ritual. With quick, dexterous hands the caps popped off the pill bottles. In only two more seconds, he had downed a number of pills and chased them with a single gulp of water. As he had done so many hundreds of times before, the young boy let out his post-pill sigh, then gently set the styrofoam cup into the trash bin placed beneath his work desk. When he looked up his eyes met with the labels of the two bottles: risperidone and aripiprazole. The irritation he had been feeling before began to melt away as he reached to put the bottles back in their resting place.

“Boss Shatter!” cried a voice just outside the door. He hadn’t had a moment to react before the door swung open with far too much force, slamming against the wall. Shatterpoint cringed as the ruckus interrupted the flowing melodies playing through his cassette.

“Boss Shatter, I’ve got news I need to tell you!” rambled the man, speaking quickly and gasping slightly for breath. He opened his mouth to continue, but Shatterpoint silenced the man with a single palm gesture. 

The villain took a moment to tap the stop button of his cassette player. He then very carefully and methodically plucked the earbuds from where they had been secured, and draped the long wire around his neck. The minion, no, the thug could not see the glare his employer shot at him through the tinted goggles built into his helmet. Shatterpoint examined this interruption with intense frustration, analyzing the hundreds of ways he could break the man’s bones. A little force applied in the perfect spot, at the perfect angle, it could do wonders. He mused for a moment as the mosaic of this thug constantly changed, shifting as the man shifted his own posture and stance. Countless points he could strike for countless results. Number 4473 was Shatterpoint’s personal favorite: using a nearby pen to completely shatter the interloper’s fight femur.

[color=red]”I despise interruptions,”[/color] Shatterpoint stated simply, keeping his tone as neutral as he could.

“I know boss Shatter, I know, and I’m sorry,” the thug pleaded. The tone in his voice showed he was genuine, but his boss didn’t pick up on that. It was just another annoying change to his routine. “But you’ll want to know this. Really, you will.”

[color=red]”Be quick,”[/color] Shatterpoint ordered. [color=red]”It’s almost time for me to report to Big Boss.”[/color] Yes, Big Boss. His only friend in the world.

“Of course, sir.” Though the man had to be at least twice Shatterpoint’s age, he recognized his place in the pecking order and gave a bow of respect. Once he recomposed himself, the thug dropped a bombshell. “We’ve been invited to a meeting with the other players in Denver at neutral ground. We just got the message, everyone is going to meet on October 8th at Casa Bonita. One of the big names already rented the place out for a private party, and they want us all to show up at 9:30 in the morning.”

Shatterpoint frowned beneath his goggles, uncertain of how to process this information. He had just put in a great amount of effort in order to create an alliance with Purge’s mafia, no small task considering how little respect the Rockers had in the villain community, and now they were getting invited to a meeting setup by some bigwig? He didn’t… Didn’t like it. Times like this he wished his power worked on things that weren’t just physical.

[color=red]”Who is setting this up?”[/color] he asked, growing more and more curious. If it had been Purge, then wouldn’t they have been given prior notice? Maybe not.

“It’s the Jacks. You know, that group that’s new to town who broke Gamble out of prison transport and duked it out with the Wards and the Community?” 

Now that was interesting. The Jacks had shown up in town a week and two days after he had brought half the Rockers down from Boulder. By all accounts, the Rockers had a stronger hold and more territory to call their own than the Jacks did. Yet the Jacks did seem to have a measure of success in their endeavors… Whatever those endeavors actually were. It was still a mystery to Shatterpoint. One he didn’t like. Surprises, details unaccounted for, they drove the villain mad.

[color=red]”That’s the same day the heroes have the charity event,”[/color] Shatterpoint mused, thinking.

“I know,” the thug replied, completely unaware his boss was only thinking out loud. A couple seconds later and the Rockers’ second in command gave his executive order.

[color=red]”Return to duty. My meeting is now overdue. I will bring the matter up with the Big Boss.”[/color] As he spoke Shatterpoint took back to navigating his computer desktop, readying a voice chat program.

“Gotcha, boss Shatter,” the thug acknowledged. As he turned to leave, something caught his eye. Rather than departing as signalled, the ruffian moved even closer to his employer’s desk. His eyes had become enamored with the two pill bottles sitting in plain sight. His sudden entrance had interrupted the process of putting them away.

“Hey, boss Shatter? Are you uh… Doing ok? You’re not sick, are ya?” He cocked his head in confusion, trying to pronounce the medication in his head.

Something snapped in that second, followed by something else snapping in the next second. Shatterpoint had completely lost his patience with this buffoon, this nitwit who [i]dared[/i] to mock him for his disability! Shatterpoint threw the mouse he held in his hand, striking the thug’s shoulder ever just so. He didn’t even apply any of his increased strength to the blow, but the way the computer mouse hit ensured the thug’s shoulder had fractured three times.

“AAAAAAAAAAGH!” he howled in pain, reeling back.

[color=red]”Go!”[/color] Shatterpoint commanded, keeping his voice low. The man wasted no time in departing, holding his broken bone the whole way. He even remembered to shut the door behind him. A wise decision for his health.

The villainous boy took a deep breath, attempting to quell his anger and frustration. The medication hadn’t actually taken effect yet, so it was proper breathing exercises until he was calm enough. Once a minute had passed, Shatterpoint took the time to put away his medication, and clean up the crushed mouse pieces. All the while he kept nagging himself in the back of his head, [i]don’t keep him waiting, don’t keep him waiting, don’t keep him waiting.[/i]

Hurriedly, Shatterpoint checked his watch: 11.41 pm. He was eleven minutes late. No. No no. No no no no. Practically hurling the destroyed computer equipment into the trash bin, the young man took his seat and operated the computer using keyboard commands and shortcuts. Once hte voice chat system was pulled up, he carefully took the earbuds from his cassette player and jacked them into the computer. A second later and the call began.

[i]Calling Rokkn’Beets21…[/i]

He hated that screen name. The spelling was far too poor, it bugged him tremendously.

[color=BurlyWood]”Hey Dexter! It’s not like you to be late, man, you doing alright?”[/color]

Dexter breathed another sigh, but rather than as preparation for something uncomfortable, it was one of relief.

[color=red]”Yes.”[/color] His answer was short, simple, succinct. How he preferred to communicate.

[color=BurlyWood]”Well whatever was going on, I’m sure you took care of it, hahaha. You can do anything, buddy.”[/color] That made Dexter smile. He couldn’t help it when his friend complimented him like that. It almost made him feel like it was true.

[color=red]”Yes.”[/color]

[color=BurlyWood]”Alright, well don’t overdo it, buddy. Haha. Are all the preparations ready? I’m still on schedule, so you should be seeing me in three days.”[/color]

[color=red]”Everything you asked is done, Brock.”[/color] The young man nodded, despite there being nobody to see the motion. [color=red]”But more has come up.”[/color]

[color=BurlyWood]”Oh? Like what? Has anyone been picking on you? Do I need to crush some skulls?”[/color]

[color=red]”No, no, nothing like that. It’s just… Things are happening. Changes in Denver.”[/color]

[color=BurlyWood]”What kinds of changes?”[/color] Brock was definitely curious.

[color=red]”Hired another parahuman. Stranger. Named Visage.”[/color] Dexter’s words were curt, but not uncomfortable.

[color=BurlyWood]”Hot damn! You got us another stranger? That’s kickass, little buddy! What else has been happening?”[/color]

[color=red]”Alliance. Visage talked to Purge. After information exchange, he agreed to cooperate.”[/color]

[color=BurlyWood]”Another groupie to add to my collection of fans. Fuck yes, you just keep dropping those sick beats, buddy! That’ll be a great asset for when we rob the shit outta that Protectorate charity event!”[/color]

[color=red]”There’s more,”[/color] he replied, sounding a bit unsure of himself. [color=red]”You see, we were uh, invited to a villain meeting on neutral ground at the same time we were planning to rob the charity event. I think we should check it out, and uh… Maybe attacking the event is too big for us?”[/color]

Dexter braced himself for his friend’s flippant dismissal of concerns. When Brock got an idea in his head, nobody could break it. Not even Shatterpoint. Some skulls were just too thick…

[color=BurlyWood]”Nonsense! Come on Dexter, we’ve got this! It’s you and me against the world, like it’s always been! If any of the assholes that work for us get their shit knocked and tossed in jail, no Biggie Smalls, but you and me? We’ve always got each others’ backs. Nobody can stop us. The plan goes forward.”[/color]

[color=red]... Ok.”[/color] He didn’t like this. Not one bit. Too many heroes. Too many big names.

[color=BurlyWood]”But I think we do want to stay informed about that meeting… Tell you what little buddy, have Creep or the new guy-”[/color]

[color=red]”Girl,”[/color] Dexter corrected.

[color=BurlyWood]”Right, have Creep or the new bitch sit in as our representative. Then when we get back to the hideout richer than ever, they can fill us in. Pretty fuckin’ great plan, right?”[/color] 

Dexter paused, unsure how to respond. He loved his friend more than anything in the world, but Brock was… Well, Brock was to reasonable situations as he was to social situations: completely inept. But Brock knew stuff he didn’t, right?

[color=red]”Sure,”[/color] he answered. [color=red]”Pretty fucking great plan.”[/color]