[b][h3][center][color=ec100c]Bryson Green (Ifrit)[/color][/center][/h3][/b][center]The Zenith - Protectorate HQ[/center][hr]


I had just pulled out my phone when I heard someone holler, "STAND ASIDE, VERY DEADLY, LET THE PROFESSIONAL HANDLE THINGS!" as a group of PRT employees were blown aside by some sort of rampaging humunculi. It had bulging muscles, tattered white wings flowing behind it,  ferocious blood shot eyes and… oh, it was just a tinker.  He looked young, about my age, although he had MUCH better facial hair. (There was a reason I stay clean shaven, by the time my face starts looking respectable my neck beard would be at my chest.) I recognized him, he graduated to the Protectorate only about 2 months before I myself did. 

	It turned out he was charging not after me, but the capped beaker which rolled across the floor with what could only be super-beaker speed. After finally trapping his query, he panted, “Huff. Puff. So. Out. Of. Breath." Upon examining the label, his eyes seemed to light up and he pulled a rather large looking syringe from his tattered robe, talk about a peanut butter shot, the thing made the standard PRT immunizations look [i]cute[/i]. He then drew a syringe full of the strange green substance out and plunged it straight into his neck. I flinched, couldn’t help it. “Aaaaaah, that's the good stuff." He [i]borderline[/i] moaned. After he got over his fit of…. relief…. he seemed to become aware of his surroundings and notice I was watching. "AH! You must be Ifrit! Welcome to Boston, welcome welcome! I'm Replicant, you've probably heard of me! The tinker with disability, eh?" He offered his hand in a friendly handshake, which after getting over a moments confusion, I heartily took. I failed to notice however, that in his other hand there was a cotton swab.

	I offered him a warm smile, “Hello there! I uh, yes, have certainly heard of you! It is nice to meet you…. Errrrm…” I trailed off as he used his other hand to swab my arm. “Are you going to…? Ah, never mind…” I had heard the rumors and read his dossier on my way to Boston. He was eccentric, and but others had warned me that he usually meant the best for it and not to read too much into anything strange. I suppressed my sense of suspicion and moved on. “Nice to meet you Replicant, and thank you for the warm welcome. I am Ifrit but I go by Bryson out of costume, I try to keep the two separate to a degree.” After the hand shake I nodded toward the door. “I am still quite new around here, any chance you could show me around the workshop? I have heard good things about the Zenith’s tinker space.” 

[i]Immediately concerned:[/i] [@ProPro]
[i]Locally concerned:[/i] [@Sickle-cell]