[h1]Injae Park[/h1]
[@Mr Allen J]
[hr]
Wow.

Jen was a regenerator.

That certainly explained the woundless bloody hole in her shirt that day.

"Why, you have every right to be afraid, what with what you told me about the metahuman Ku Klux Klan running around this place," Ratchet said. "You know what we need? We need another Civil Rights Movement for metahumans," she declared softly. "I'm no politician, but anybody can see the [i]de facto[/i] shackles that people put on metahumans."

Oh, the irony; the people who fear the powered folk are the ones who oppress the powered folk so. Perhaps it was that way for every civil rights battle from the 1950's to the 2010's.

Ratchet sighed. "It'd be nice if something like that could start from the metahuman grassroots. But again, I'm no politician. Still, we can't wait around for a movement to start. This isn't the kind of thing that people should shrug off."

Ratchet heard some pretty violent-sounding noises from inside the house. "Oh, boy. Looks like Kate's getting her fight after all," she muttered. "Jen, I'm starting to feel a bit out-of-place. I haven't touched a drink, and I'm pretty sure you and I are one of the endangered non-sober human beings, displaced from their natural habitat. That being said, I don't like the way that those noises are sounding. Especially since I heard a couple curse words in there," Ratchet added, upon hearing one of the girls call Meifeng a "bitch."

Ratchet whirled around and walked right in just as the fight ended, feeling exactly like she hopped out of the pages of [i]Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.[/i] Ratchet spun right back around and with a deadpan expression said, "Meifeng got into a fight and wound up with a boob hanging out of her dress."

Ratchet realized that she should've probably confided her power to Jen; then again, that probably wasn't fair since just that day, Meifeng had already broken the news to Jen about her waterbending, and Jen didn't need more shock. She'll tell her later.

"Ah, why don't we go back inside? Whole thing's boiled over," Ratchet suggested, pointing back to the doorway. "As comparatively nice as it is outside, we probably look weird and awkward just standing around like this." She adjusted her driver's cap and strode back into the house. [i]Jen, a regenerator. How about that. Certainly explains why her liver hasn't gone ka-boom,[/i] Ratchet thought. [i]Sucks that childhood fantasies like superpowers and whatnot turn out to be total nightmares for people who actually have 'em.[/i]

Ratchet sat on an empty couch (avoiding a stain to her right and stretched out her arms and legs, resting her sneakered feet on the Ottoman. Hey, people were standing on tables and dancing in a drunken stupor; what was a couple sneakers on an Ottoman to a bunch of tipsy wealthy folk?

Ratchet casually folded her arms behind her and simply watched her fellow guests. She had brought a little notepad and pencil in her tool belt. She smirked at the thought of doing gesture studies on drunk people. She nonchalantly flipped open a pouch on her tool belt and drew her notepad and pencil, doing quick sketches of the fella with the lampshade on his head.