Multicolored lights strobe and bounce off the disco ball hanging in the center of the blacked-out room. Beats pulse in the air. Men and women wearing short, flashy outfits dance around to it. Some partiers are sober, but most are drunk off the not-so-mini bar tucked away in a corner. With the rainbow of elixirs offered, how could the young adults and punk teens resist?
The party room is packed with people, laughter, dance, and drunk antics - perfect cover to seal his movements. After he scaled the stilts the dock house rests on and edged his way along the side of it, he watches the scene through an open window. If it wasn't for the filters he placed in his mask, he's sure the alcohol smell would choke him out.
Before crawling through the window, he waits for the strobe lights to replace the laser lights again. A group of people see him come through. A quake tickles his chest until the people laugh.
"Wish I'd thought to come through that way!" one guy says.
These people are so drunk they don't notice his misfitting appearance. The strobe lights help, too.
The group invites him to dance with them, and he does. He dances with the drunks and uses them as a shield from sober eyes as he gradually leads the group to the center of the dance floor. Strobe lights then help hide him loading his gun.
Laser lights replace the strobe lights. Shots rise above the chaos. The music screeches to a stop. Disco ball pieces rain on the partiers. Pieces fall like glitter in his white-colored hair. His unmistakable chrome-covered jacket reflects the multicolored lights. Partiers face the source of the shots. Jaws agape and rounded eyes tell him they know exactly who he is. Shard smirks from under the former place of the disco ball.
Partiers flee as guards armed with blaster pistols charge him. He lets out a chuckle as he casually activates a small EMP in his jacket pocket. The pistols, lights, and everything else electrically powered shuts down. In the light of glowsticks, guards and partiers rush the exits, but the exits open on them. Shard's heavily armed Chromies, dressed in camouflage and an array of filtered masks, herd the partiers at gunpoint to the dance floor while Shard struts his way up to the makeshift stage where the DJ once was.
He picks a microphone up from the ground. Tapping it, he examines it. No sound comes out, and he chucks it across the stage. He shouts for everyone to shut up. Despite the black cloth, surgical-like mask over his face, his voice carries over the crowd's nervous murmurs. The crowd hushes.
"Now that y'all have shut up, I can explain the meanin' of all this," he says. "First off, I'd like to thank all y'all's stupidity of posting and sending messages through the Net about this little underground get-together of politicians' brats. Haven't your parents ever told you not to do that?"
Guilty faces are exchanged in the crowd.
"That's what I thought," Shard says. "Now, since y'all were so good at organizing this get-together, my Chromies and I were able to well organize our party crashing as well. So, what's gonna happen is a select of you will go off with individual..." Shard twirls his hand next to his head. "...handlers and be spending lots of time with us at our cozy Chromy home until your parents meet our demands or don't."
Nervous murmurs rise again. Shard silences them with shots in the air.
"Y'all are just as talkative as your parents. Now, be quiet and wait patiently for your handlers before Squads get here, and then, we'd have to kill you all. Something none of us want, I'm certain."
Silence freezes over the room.
"Good listening skills. Now, let's get our brats of interest."
More Chromies armed with pistols, handcuffs, and an extra filtered mask on their belts enter the room. The men stand in an orderly line stretching across the stage. When all men get in place, Shard nods and the first man in line steps forward.
"Mindy Winters," he says.
A girl with platinum gold hair and shimmering eyes squeezes a girl's hand next to her before stiffly making her way through the crowd. Chromies prod Mindy along with guns until she reaches the stage. She approaches the man who called her name. With a fire in her eyes, she stares straight into his. He snatches her wrists and cuffs them behind her.
Shoving her head, the man says, "Watch those eyes, slut." The man steps back in line with Mindy in front of him.
Her lip snarls, brow furrows, and eyes glued to the floor gloss over.
The next man steps forward. "Xander Olowe."
A short, young, bulky man constantly glancing at the same girl Mindy squeezed hands with makes his way through the crowd. He's gentle when moving through the partiers, but when he reaches the first Chromy, he swings at him. The Chromy easily takes on the drunken Xander. Using his forearm, the Chromy blocks the blow and swipes Xander's feet from under him. Xander crashes into a heap on the floor. The Chromy proceeds to kick the stunned Xander in the head, rendering him unconscious. The man who called his name goes off stage to cuff and collect Xander. He returns to the stage with Xander at his feet.
More names are called including Maxwell - the bartender, Gracie - a girl in the group who was dancing with Mindy, and others until the last man in line calls out Ajax Turner, a punk, loud-mouthed fourteen-year-old who is drunk out of his mind.
Shard resumes center stage. Arms stretched out in a grandeur manner, he calls out, "That's not all folks! Do you think I would miss out on this fun? I get to call out my own little brat. One who's gonna be my bestest buddy and spend so much time with me. We're gonna get to know each other well. Real well. Who's the lucky one? Drum roll please!"
Shard drums his fingers on the makeshift DJ booth. His fingers boom loud in the quiet, still room. All the anxious faces staring at him shoot tingles through his body.
Scanning the crowd, he sees his brat's reaction tells she already knows she's it. He smirks.
Shards fingers stop. "And my little sweetheart is..."