[IC] The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

[Mintz]

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:45 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick....

Ugh, it was like he could feel the clock boring his skull open.

Truth be told, he had been dreading this day ever since it was dumped on him. All because he tried to be the smart guy in the room....Last time he made that mistake....Again. Fukuda could feel his eyebrows scrunching up in consternation; somehow, this was all going to blow up in their face. Maybe literally, given the fact they were bringing two Tinkers on board. Speaking of...

To at least take his mind off his impending doom, Atsushi took to reading the files they had handed off to him yet again. The details on those who had been picked out by him, or in a few niche cases, those who came to them instead. The subtle clicking of the clock could still be heard, in spite of his best efforts. Fifteen minutes. He'd given the kids a deadline; 6 PM. Roughly thirty minutes after most of them would be out from school. Time to arrange for anything, maybe get some food, or just goof off before something this high-stress. He didn't know.

He tried getting comfortable. The meeting area they'd set up for The Wards, lying just below the prison sector, had some pretty cushy seats, so there was that. Beyond that, though...Pretty sparse. A few terminals for them to use, keep track of things, watch out for teammates from the safety of HQ when/if necessary...Probably play video games if they were slacking off. That, and the still hidden-from-view foldaway monitor, for when important people (like himself, heh) had to make some big announcements to the team without being there, or fill them in on dire information that couldn't be passed onto their terminals. Alright, enough beating the damn bush. His personal datapad flipped open (thanks, Tech Wizard, for these complicated damn iPads), he began scanning through the files once more.

Hope (Andrew Bennet) [Hope Manipulation: Trump/Shaker (potential Master)]

Overclock (Sean Evens) [Escalation: Mover/Brute 2-10 (minor Breaker ability)]

Gray Man (Wilbur Levins) [Parahuman Deception: Master/Stranger 4 (potential Thinker ability)]

Workshop (Beverly Hillshire) [Chaos Creations: Tinker 5 (tentative 2+ in other Classifications)]

Schrödinger (Edwin Charles) [Preservative Teleportation: Mover 5/Thinker 2 (potential Trump ability)]

Scraprig (Jane Rosner) [Heavy Machinery/Human Interfacing: Tinker 4 (potentially misjudged, will be reevaluated with newer designs)]

V (Carmen Foster) [Object Cloning: Blaster 6/Shaker 6/Tinker 1]

That was all he could handle. The Director humbly closed the file and slid the pad away. These kids were gonna be a hassle...But it wasn't like he had much say in this. Roll with the punches...He took a breath, trying to push away the creeping sense of doubt about this, when the ping of the elevator rang out. Looks like the first arrival...

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Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:48 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

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A fairly biting 33 degrees made worse by some moderate winds and the downfall of snow drifted by a young woman, huffing and puffing in motion. Her blue hoodie kept the worst of it off alongside the snow boots made for trudging through the fresh white coat paving the sidewalk, though she still found herself stumbling from the rush she was in. There might be twelve minutes left, but Beverly didn't care! There was NO WAY she would be late for this! And she'd be prone to if she didn't treat it like a hurry, get caught up on something or other...

And so she stormed forth, darting to and fro, barely avoiding other passing pedestrians on her way. "'Scuse me! Pardon! Oh, m'bad, sorry!" Passing apologies left and right to folks she nearly barreled over in her single-minded charge. The southern tinge of her voice stood out amongst the northerners of Redline, but most paid her little mind; beyond being in a rush, she was a polite young lady, at least.

"Let's see....Right from Circadia High, left on Queen Street, and then..." She glanced to the side and immediately recognized it; the PRT HQ, in all its menacingly dull glory! Beyond the fancy shield-based insignia denoting the building as such, she'd probably quicker assume it was some kind of prison, with the barred windows and tough-looking gray exterior. Still, in spite of the natural gloom of the locale, she was brimming with excitement. Oooh, this was gonna be great! She even had another example piece in case the Director fella asked her again! Though, she did wonder what had happened with the shortcake dispenser she'd made the last time around....

Regardless, steeling herself (or in this case, puffing her cheeks out and taking as close to a stern look as she could manage), the girl strutted her way right into the lobby!...And promptly shook all the snow off of her to the carpet below like a dog, pushing the hood away to reveal her mess of poofy brown hair, spilling all the way to the waist.

Almost instantly, she found herself caught by the eyes of the receptionist, barely raising a brow. "May I ask what you're doing here, young lady?" At first, Bev froze like a deer in the headlights. What was she doing here again? Her brain worked through that conundrum...Slower than she liked, because it kept going back to her unfinished project. Ugh, what was it....Right! Passcode thingy, to prove we're The Wards 'n all that.

"Ahem...'Scuse me! I've been a victim o' crime. Here to complain my pet hedgehog got sent to the future by, uh...The local chapter of Hell's Angels!"

Complete random nonsense. Perfect for proving you are who you are. With a curt nod, the receptionist buzzed an Officer into the room, who escorted her to the elevator...To the prison level? At first, Bev was pretty confused, but the fella guiding her along gave her a look that said 'shush', so she kept quiet. Eventually, near the back of the prison level, they approached a wall. It...Well, it was a wall. Just as she was about to question it, however, the man got closer to it, raising an eye to a small section of it. She couldn't repress herself seeing a neat scanner pop into existence, gleaning the gentleman's retina. "Ooh, retinal scanner...Like the movies! Neat..." She probably would've kept going, but surprisingly, she found herself staying restrained thanks to what happened next.

The wall unfolded itself, unveiling another elevator, going even further down. Subterranean base?! Oh, this is so cool! Seemed this was where her guide was leaving her though, merely gesturing the young lady to head on in. She did so with glee, quickly booping the button as her descent began...And the elevator opened.

Fukuda, for his part in this, just groaned. Workshop. Of course she was first...

Catching his glance, she gave a cute wave before hastily trotting over, her energy evident in each move she made. "Hiya, Mr. Fukuda! Or...Do I call ya Mr. Director now? Or just Director? Oh! Or is it like what Fashionista said, Director-san?" She stood at attention, like a puppy waiting to be pet. Atsushi was already regretting all his life decisions prior to this moment.

"....Director's fine. Go ahead and get comfy, we're still waiting on the others."

For her part, miss Hillshire gave a curt nod and plopped in a seat nearby, pulling out...Some weird metal sphere? Fukuda nearly had a heart attack just by her whipping it out so abruptly, but stopped when he recognized what she was doing. Tinkering with it idly. Either an unfinished project, or just something to keep her damn hands busy. Either way, not something that was immediately going to blow up in their face.

Small victories, and all that.

With a grim determination, he watched the elevator expectantly for the other youths. This was about to be a long, long day....

[Blizz]

______________________________________________________________

She should've just stayed in the yard.

Some guy in a suit from the PRT, of all things, waltzes into the one part of the city she didn't think anyone would ever be in, starts drilling her about being a tinker and how she'd freeze to death in that shitbox she called home if a villain didn't pick her off. Next thing she knew, Jane had an offer to join a hero team once this guy in a suit saw her arm. Jane was more than a little jittery as she walked around crowds of people along the sidewalk through the snow. Both of her hands were stuffed in her pockets, and a hood was pulled over her face, because god damn, it was cold. Jane was honestly somewhat rattled that someone wanted a junkyard tinker on a brand-spanking-new hero team, or that anyone with any notoriety knew about her well enough to even find her. She wouldn't have gone through with the idea if Fukuda hadn't mentioned money, Jane lived in a rusted-out junkyard at the edge of Redline, and only occasionally made a few quick bucks by slipping someone some illicit tinkertech. It helped to keep her from starving, but it wasn't sustainable in the long run. Eventually, someone would come and arrest her, or someone would kidnap her and hold her hostage for free tinkertech, if she was one of the lucky tinkers who got captured. Most solitary tinkers weren't lucky these days.

She could feel her left arm seizing up again.

The PRT building stood off in the distance. A monument of dilapidation and parahuman bureaucracy. Built like a prison and ran better than one. Jane stared at the dull, picturesque front of the building for what felt like 20 minutes. Did she really want to do this? Was she supposed to dress nicer? Would they even let her in? Did she get replaced already? What if this, what if that. What if she got killed by a villain here? instead of in the junkyard? Jane walked until she was by the shield-like statue of the PRT. The place sure didn't look inviting, she thought. If she turned back and just went..."home," maybe she could avoid all the chaos and stress and general danger being a legitimate hero could cause. She could wrap herself in a bunch of shoplifted blankets while her hotwired microwave warmed up something to an edible temperature, and hope it produced enough heat that she'd wake up the next morning. It would've been pitiful, but at least it was something she knew, something predictable. This? This was chaotic. Jane was never a big fan of chaotic.

Still, she thought, it might be nice to eat something that wasn’t ate out of a can too hot to be touched by anything but her left arm. She shook off the snow and went inside.

It was a certified miracle she wasn’t asked for an ID. Instead, all she had to say was that she was a concerned citizen, and that she was here to report overhearing a suspicious conversation between Tech Wizard and a member of some meddling teenagers in a van in a seedy hotel room. An elevator ride and a retina scan later, and…she was face to face with a girl her age and the guy in the suit. One looked very properly dressed, the other was, well, in a suit while she was wet from snow and had a somewhat battered aesthetic going on. If you could even call it that. A sweatshirt that looked like it was put through a warzone and cleaned up to the best of Jane’s ability, and a robotic arm consisting on metal shafts, gears, springs, a workwear glove, and the bulb of a flashlight. She looked out of place.

No going back now, she thought as she raised her metal hand in an uncertain, non-committing wave.

”Uh. Hi.”

[Lewascan2]

Sean Evens/Overclock

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:44 PM.

Location(s): City of Redline Patrol

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 3 hours, 0 minutes, 0 seconds

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"Do you need a ride?"

The door closing behind him was the only answer, as Sean stepped out onto the front porch of his home. A small kernel of guilt wormed its way into his gut, but he shoved it aside. They... hadn't been speaking for the past few weeks, not since she betrayed his trust, helped the PRT ignore his rights, his liberties, helped them conscript him. On the one hand, he knew she meant well... to a degree, but he wasn't going to easily forgive her for that, not for a long long time. He was angry, justifiably so, but he wasn't about to take it out on her outright. He wasn't that kind of asshole, so damning silence would have to do.

Sighing at the biting 33 degree chill, Sean's body warmed up, the familiar vibrating rumble suffusing his body chopping that chill in half. It was a common misconception that he was a Brute, an easily made one. And on a technical level, in terms of classifications and what kind of threat he might present, that was still true. However, his power, at its core, was nothing more or less than a highly flexible Breaker power, a power that allowed him to interact with the more tangible aspects of physics in a variety of ways.

The strength and durability were more side effects of the portions of his power required to keep him from being torn apart every time he so much as took a single step. Because of that, his durability was not so much direct physical defense as it was "dividing the effect of harmful forces levied against him". Like extreme temperatures, for example. Or, at least, that's how it seemed to work as far as he could tell.

Pulling up the furred hood of his jacket over his head, less for defense and more for disguise, Sean stepped around into the backyard gate of his house. Entering, he shoved his hands in his pockets and... loitered, standing still, as the energy in his body became yet more suffusive.

23 seconds have passed.

This whole scenario was a nightmare for him. Unlike what they might assume, he had a life outside heroics, a plan. Between school, martial arts and work, he really didn't have the kind of free time that they expected of him. Unfortunately, on the work front, he'd basically been forced to quit. There was no way he was going to be able to hold down a job properly while also being a government attack dog... At least the latter paid okay. And he really hated that he had to factor money into this matter. Being a hero shouldn't be just another paycheck, shouldn't be about greed. It wasn't that he particularly abhorred the idea of being rewarded for his efforts, but reducing the noble profession down to just another government institution, another series of letters in the ever growing and all too easily corrupted alphabet soup?

Unacceptable.

His Breaker state had risen another Stage. One more...

Even so, a Hero -a real one- shouldn't be someone who fought for money. Money was fine, but that should never be the goal. It was about the mission, about actually saving people in all the ways that matter and making the world a better place. It wasn't about defeating the villains or showing off; those things were simply par for the course. A real Hero could do so much more, fire-fighting, disaster relief and even just common human acts of decency. At the end of the day, heroism was about saving everyone, not just punching assholes in the face. A real Hero inspired hope in society, encouraged good people to stay on the straight and narrow, and made those that preyed upon them regret being villains at all.

The PRT was just another government entity. It didn't matter who the Director was or how apologetic he may or might not be. At the end of things, he answered to uncaring and far less accountable individuals. Being a government-sponsored hero was a death-trap of morality. Maybe basing that kind of opinion off of comic books was fallacious, but considering how consistent that narrative ran? Clearly, there was an understanding of human nature there that many would like to pretend didn't exist. Government heroes, if they allowed themselves to be dragged into the Big Man's momentum, allowed themselves to choose orders over the right thing, choose looking good for the cameras over actually putting a stop to the threats to the people? The red tape of oversight was a death sentence to heroic ambition and integrity.

But Sean refused to allow himself to be yoked... not the way they would like.

It was time to make a point.

As his internal timer ticked past 4 minutes and 40 seconds, Stage 5 spun up, and time almost seemed to come to a halt.

He'd certainly used it before, on many an occasion even, but the drain on his internal energy stores to maintain this level of power was... significant, enough to run his tank dry in a mere 3 minutes, which he thought was, to be honest, all too little for the sort of things that would normally require it. Oh, and that was only assuming he'd not already spent some energy elsewhere. Therefore, he'd only used it in quick bursts, which were usually more than enough to handle even the obstacles Redline could present, villainous in nature or otherwise.

Regardless, he'd never actually used this Stage before on the scale he was about to, and not just because using it this way was generally massively inefficient. For one thing, it would have possibly attracted attention from some very unfortunate sorts. (Un)fortunately, one of the most annoying of said sorts was already in the know, and now that they knew about him and were ostensibly allies, even if reluctant ones... Well, he could finally cut loose a bit and show them what he could really do, a good deed, expression of defiance and low-key implied statement that he was entirely without need of their supposed "safe training program" all in one. No, it would be clear that the only thing they were doing was holding him back.

He idly double-checked his reserves: still full, as he'd been standing still the whole while. He had no idea what kind of bullshit he might have to put up with at the PRT, nor how much time he was going to be stuck there going through legalese nonsense and interacting with a bunch of other Parahuman kids, which promised to be... less than fun. Regardless, it was never a good idea to run himself dry. Having enough left to bring his best to the table in the case of an emergency was only prudent.

"So, a minute or two, then? Minute and a half?" he idly mused aloud. Actually, he might have been high-balling it. Redline was located in the State of Massachusetts, which was only 190 miles long at its absolute widest point. At this level of escalation? Sean could move about 100 miles a second if he was jogging and going slow enough to really meaningfully interact with the world. 186 miles per second if he was all-out sprinting his fastest. One piddly little city, like Redline?

Absolute child's play.

Sean Moved. Or rather, "moving" almost couldn't quite describe it. Overclock, the hero, had been an active presence in the seaside city of Redline for two years now, but never before had he put on such a distinctive show, a display that practically screamed to the citizenry "I am here, watching over you". For that brief minute and a half, his speed well eclipsed that of lightning, trailing in his wake in a constantly-refreshing nigh-omnipresent crisscross of tesla coils, azure lightning whirling behind him to lick upon every surface harmlessly aside from a distant hair-raising feeling of not-static. Indeed, though the lightning existed visually, it did not rend the city asunder thanks to being as misaligned with normal physics as Sean himself, as Overclock tore across the rooftops and all throughout the streets and alleyways of Redline.

8 car crashes averted. 14 wrecks attended to and victims safely extracted. 23 purse snatchers zip-tied. 78 attempted murders averted and criminals restrained. Medical aid applied to 179 victims of crime or mere accident given first aid. Serious cases moved to a hospital. 4 regular fires put out and victims safely evacuated. 3 arsons put out and perpetrators mostly in custody. 37 rapes averted and perpetrators restrained for law enforcement. 25 robberies foiled. 13 cases of domestic abuse handled and victim brought to police. 6 hate crimes shut down. 7 cats saved from trees. 911 phone calls set to ringing for all relevant cases, and "Friendly Neighborhood Overclock" calling cards distributed where needed. And a fair few other incidents of which there were, frankly, too many to name.

Honestly, he was rather proud of those cards. They were shitty and cheaply printed, but the little cards had instructions on the back about calling 911 and making sure to give a witness statement to make certain the criminals that went after them got put away for a good long while. Normally, Sean would only hand them out when he was in too much of a hurry to remain and give the police his own statement as well. On that note, he was... really going to need to restock both his cards and zip-ties after this.

And all of that occurred within the first several seconds.

Some things required he slow down. Helping lost children. Foiling several suicides and taking a moment to talk them down while remanding them safely to someone who could help. Pumping the water out of someone's lungs and/or performing CPR. There were just some things that even insane speed couldn't hurry along. If it needed actual delicate handling, required calming words and a personal smile, he obliged as best he was able, and every single time, he shoved down that annoying part of him that complained that the moments he spent speaking were dozens of other people not being saved. He was a Hero, a real one... or at least, he liked to think so. So, he could never allow himself to be wrapped up in obsessing over things like numbers and weighing lives. Instead, it was better to save everyone in front of him, one at a time, as they came. No complicating things, just doing good deeds.

And so, for a minute and a half, the city of Redline was intermittedly illuminated in mass by thunderous trails of crackling azure light, and to say the least, it was a bad day to be an active criminal...

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Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:50 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 1 hour, 30 minutes, 0 seconds

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Overclock touched down atop a building a block away from the PRT's base of operations still crackling, as his power began to wind down. Rolling his shoulders, Sean stepped off the roof into an alley, idly observing the descent in slow motion, before touching down with barely a bend of the knees, his power reduced to Stage 3. The lightning no longer flowed around him, as he sighed and released down to Stage 1, grunting in satisfaction at the feeling of energy beginning to trickle back into his reserves. The initial boost didn't take a lot out of him, enough so that he could maintain it and still recharge. Though, were he not to use his power at all, his pool tended to recover at a 1:1 rate, and the tank would be brimming again within 3 hours at most. Given the fact that using his power at all chopped that in half, it would still take 3 hours... just to recover the half he'd blown off for his stress relief do-gooding.

Stepping out of the alley with his furred hood still pulled up against the -to him- mild chill, Sean shoved his hands in his jacket's pockets and began the short walk to the PRT HQ proper. As he approached, Sean couldn't help grimacing at the structure, an ugly menacing thing, more like a prison in appearance. His brain whispered quietly that it might as well be -and actually, technically partially literally was, but he shook the thought off... if with some difficulty. Sean snorted at the irony of being miffed about the PRT's outward PR, but then again, he would be one to talk with his friendly persona and active interaction with the citizenry. Rather, Sean actually considered PR to be a good thing, vital in some ways even. Giving the people hope, giving them beacons to look up to? That mattered. It was simply that one should never choose something as ultimately banal as PR over actually saving lives. Appearances could rot if the alternative was more victims being made.

Striding casually up to the front doors of the building, Sean stepped inside the lobby with a neutral expression plastered on, taking in the sight of couches and various portraits of the Guardians staring into his soul, while a few PRT officers lingered here and there. Grunting, he concealed his hesitation and strode up to the front desk, rolling his jaw, as he mustered up to the forefront of his memory the absurd -but objectively effective- passcode. Before the receptionist could speak, he deadpanned, "I have a message from an angry swarm of BEES which says that Risen won't see his coffee mug again unless the only restored baseball cap in the world is delivered to my roof by lunchtime."

With little to no fanfare, an Officer was beckoned over to escort Sean to the elevator. While the descent to what was, apparently, below prison level got a raised eyebrow, the brunet refrained from offering commentary. He held his peace all the way to the blank wall and offered only an appreciative hum of approval at the hidden retinal scanner. At the very least, it seemed like they were taking this seriously, even -or perhaps, especially- as a first-time venture. His eyebrows raised even more at the second elevator behind that. One part of him appreciated the fact that even he would likely have a spot of annoyance breaking in or out of here. Honestly, the only gripe he might have is how much a blackout or EMP attack could be a problem for elevators.

He kind of hoped there was a backup escape route...

The second elevator opened directly into, instead of a hallway, an apparent common room, which Sean entered without hesitation. The area was pretty sparse, almost spartan even, containing mostly just boring walls, terminals and screens. There was a table and some rather comfortable-looking chairs, two of which were occupied, one by the Director, himself, and one by...

Fuck! Workshop!

"Ah, Workshop... Long time, no see." His eyes drifted down to her fiddling hands... and the sphere.

FUCK! She's Tinkering!

To be honest, the rather trashy, scarred girl didn't even rate half as much concern past that point, even with the Mad-Max-looking cybernetic arm. Sean barely managed to conceal his, well... "trepidation" might be an understatement, as he carefully located and took the furthest seat from the unpredictable Tinker, moving slowly and clearly to not startle the suntanned girl. Even when he turned his head to address the Director, he couldn't stop himself from watching the southern gal out of the corner of his eyes. "Well, I'm here," he said with about half-again as much enthusiasm as he felt... which was honestly not much. Still, he threw out a little wry grin anyway.

It was a little hard to muster up the mental energy to put an act on, when so much of his brainpower was now devoted to keeping an eye out for even the slightest spark of trouble from Workshop. To be frank, he was halfway considering ramping up his power again, just in case. It was only the fact that he'd been running it at full throttle when they first met that had saved both of them and far too many potential collateral casualties. Their first meeting was the stuff of infamy in Redline... and was also the reason there was now a massive area of frozen time acting as a tourist attraction...

And on that lovely train of thought-!

Sean idly scooted his -admittedly comfortable- chair a bit sideways, giving himself as much room as possible to book it in the case of an... "incident".

[Duoya]

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:55 PM.
Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

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Buildings passed by the window of the Taxi, Will tracing their path as he stared at each one. Traffic was less intense than usual today - pretty surprising, since everyone should be getting off work around now. Will leaned his head against the glass and closed his eyes, enjoying the darkness that accompanied the action.

He'd really considered just skipping out today. He doubted that he'd be liked wherever he was going, or even if he'd be useful. Besides, he'd probably handle the alternative well enough with his powers and minimal offenses. Maybe he could even skip town if he left right now.

But at the end of the day, he still chose to go to the PRT. He could say that it was because he wanted to do the right thing, help people, turn his life around, or any number of excuses. But every one of them would be bullshit, lies he told himself and others to make himself feel better.

No, the only reason he was here was because he was a coward. Because this was the only option if he wanted to keep having a normal life, the only way he could-

"That'll be $11.34, kid."

Will slowly opened his eyes as the taxi came to a stop. The driver was leaning around his seat, holding his hand out to Will, an impatient look on his face. For a second, the thought of gaslighting the driver briefly crossed Will's mind - his power would make it easy, he just paid when he entered, didn't the driver remember-

"Sure thing man. Here you go."

Will fished around in his pocket for bills and some change, and the driver peeled away as soon as he closed the door. The taxi could have a camera, and Will really didn't want to go through the trouble the PRT might put him through just to save 12 bucks.

The icy wind blew across Will's face as he walked, causing him to cringe slightly - his outfit was as formal as usual, and while the business suit and vest provided decent protection from the cold, his hat was clearly designed to be an aesthetic piece rather than insulate him.

At least his umbrella kept him dry.

As he stared at the structure in front of him, Will sighed slightly. The PRT HQ was dreadfully dull, clearly designed for form over function. He'd been here only a few days ago for a tour, and had caused a real big ruckus after what his brother said on the drive there.

'Really messed up my first impression with these guys - hope they're not too mad about that coffee thing...'

Will shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn't really matter if they were mad - they were collateral, and he wasn't even an official part of the Wards then. They'd forgive him pretty quickly - and if not, he'd just make friends with his new teammates instead. He was here against his will, so hopefully they'd attribute the coffee thing to that instead.

Will entered the building a few minutes before 6 PM, and quickly walked up to the receptionist. Will noticed the annoyance on her face as soon as she saw him, and quickly flashed a winning smile.

"Excuse me ma'am, but I'm here to report a robbery - I think my heart was just stolen."

"Sir, can you explain how you are alive if your heart is missing?"

Will groaned internally - shouldn't have pushed his luck. A slight pressure began to build up in his head, almost like his brain was pushing against his skull. Soon after, Will could feel his power begin to 'retreat'. Still pushing, he pulled a small slip of paper out of his jacket pocket and began to read it, monotone.

"I am a student and my heart has been stolen by a Bio Tinker. Please assist me."

Almost instantly, the light worm-like sensation in his stomach started up, and the woman's eyes snapped open as the Master effect broke. Her mouth pulled itself into a tight frown, and a few seconds later, two armored officers approached and began to lead Will towards the elevator. Will actually got a little nervous when they got to the prison level, but he thankfully didn't start any trouble and one of the guards got them past the retinal scanner.

Hopefully, this was just a meeting place, and not their main headquarters - Will did not want to have to do the cloak and dagger schtick with the receptionist every time he clocked into work.

The elevator opened up into a spacious room that, like most of the building, was more focused on utility than being pretty to look at. There were some comfy chairs, a couple of screens, but the walls were almost entirely bare. There seemed to be a few Wards who'd already arrived. Or it at least seemed that way - he had no idea how many Wards there were. Chick with the metal arm was obviously one, and the other girl who was- oh okay, so Tinkers can just do their thing here. Good to know. The other guy looked close to their ages, so he was either another Ward, or the PRT was hiring young...

"Hey hey everybody, real excited to be here. Pretty cold out today, huh? Love the jacket bro, nice fit. Gotta let me know where you got it after we're done."

Will snapped some finger guns at the guy that looked around his age, before he slid into the chair directly next to Director Fukuda, and drummed his fingers on the armrest.

"Hey there Mr. F, I'm here for daycare. Did you miss me?"

[Letter Bee]

Andrew Bennett/Hope

The other kids at the orphanage had some inkling about what had happened, and so did the caretakers, but they also knew Andrew had done what he had done to protect them from... Something. Nevertheless, his departure to The Wards could only have been a relief, considering the likely consequences of his rash actions. Same for his willingness to arrange a permanent stay in The Wards' own building.

So what happened was bittersweet, even to the boy himself, as the latter took public transport (paying for it, of course) to the bus stop closest to the PRT HQ, seeing a glimpse of who he thought was Overclock helping a lost child half his age (he couldn't be sure, though). Despite the bite of his parting and the awareness that some people wished it was permanent which now coursed through him, Andrew smiled as the vehicle he was in zoomed past shops and residences, places of worship, and entertainment.

This was the city he was going to protect, the city people like Overclock fought to keep hope alive. He believed in them; would they believe in him? Would he give them a reason to?

After all, he didn't come by his powers through innocent means; maybe he was just pretending at being a hero. Maybe he wasn't actually as kind and selfless as he thought he was.

The bus stopped; he didn't notice until he was loudly called down by the bus driver. Paying the fare, the boy set himself down on the sidewalk, momentarily basking in the hope coursing through the city in Overclock's wake. Then he walked towards the PRT building, which he had approached before, and this time, the brutalist (?) architectural style didn't give him pause. Walking towards the entrance and approaching the receptionist, the boy was asked what he was doing here, and the response was:

"I'm a concerned citizen. I'm here to report superpowered members of the Merchants loitering at the local retirement home."

He was promptly escorted to the retinal scanner which led to the HQ, which, to a lower-class orphan like him who was currently in a faded blue shirt and jeans and secondhand sneakers, was positively luxurious. Walking over to the Director, Andrew said, "Andrew Bennett here, codename 'Hope'. I'm happy to serve under you in an official capacity from now on - Wait, Overclock is here?!"

After taking a few seconds to confirm that it was Overclock who was standing before him, Andrew hopped over and said, "Overclock! I didn't know you joined The Wards! It seems we're in good hands, right, if you're here?" Then he noticed Levin and the two Tinkers, before waving hi to them all and saying enthusiastically:

"Hello! My name is Hope and I'm happy to work with you guys!" He then walked over to Levin and took a chair beside him before saying, "So, what's your name? Mine's Andrew, but you can call me Andy!"

[Riegal]

Memento

---

Morie couldn't deny that the shed behind her new home was something out of a horror story.
A few lifeless bodies sat close next to each other, leaned against the walls. They all looked exactly like herself--except naked, which was the main thing that bothered the girl still. She had gotten mostly used to the unsettling sight of what was essentially the dead, and she had gotten used to the fact that they all wore her face--but she still had never gotten past seeing them nude. Seeing her own body exposed. Morie had a pretty large wardrobe, but not enough to spare clothing for all of them at all times, so she had to settle with just covering them with blankets while they were in storage.
With the faintest of sighs, she lifted one of the said blankets off of herself. The shed wasn't very well insulated, so the cool weather was felt keenly even inside. Having lived in Edmonton before her move for this Ward business, the cold of Redline was nothing much to her when she had clothing. As she currently was, though, it was more uncomfortable.
Morie shifted her attention to a copy of herself on the opposite side of the shed. She kept them organized by their position--this one was her most recent finished copy. It was to be the latest one absorbed by the body she was currently controlling.
The girl stepped lightly and quickly along the cold floor, removing the blanket that covered the copy, and kneeling down next to it. She placed her hand on the copy's sternum, and started the rather grotesque work of absorbing the body's matter. It wasn't violent or bloody or anything, but it was unsettling. Really, that was the entire name of the game with her powers.
As the twenty minutes she had passed, the copy began to slowly shrink in size, slowly began to shrivel. Extremities lost detail and receded to become stumps, and skin lost its colour.
The body was truly dead now--not only lacking life, but lacking the capacity for it entirely. Even if Morie wanted to, she'd be unable to control the copy. It could only serve as 'food' now.
Bleh.
Morie had more copies than what was in this shed. The rest had been left in Edmonton, to be brought down to Redline by the PRT. It was a strange thing, knowing her bodies were being handled by strangers. While she could check on them any time, it still made her uncomfortable. There wasn't much to be done, though--she wanted to be a hero, and those copies were needed for that. The only thing she could really curse was her own strange abilities, which were better suited for a villain.
It was a depressing thing to dwell on, so Morie tried not to.
On the subject of the PRT... Morie glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of the shed. 5:54PM.
She quickly covered the copy again with its blanket, moving back to sit in her current body's original spot. She pulled the respectivve blanket over herself and closed her eyes.

A moment later, she opened them again, finding herself back in the taxi she had left her body in--her original body. The one she was born in. It was much warmer, wearing leggings, a skirt, and a fashionable jacket sitting off her shoulders over a hoodie.
Morie sat up and looked out the window, getting her bearings. Good timing--the vehicle had arrived at the PRT headquarters. Her heart rate spiked.
She thanked and paid the driver, and exited the vehicle, pulling out her earbuds--useful for keeping people from trying to interact with her body when she wasn't present. As she stuffed her phone in her pocket along with her hands, the girl sucked in air anxiously.
Nothing to it.
Her feet took her forward into the building, her sneakers leaving prints in the thin layer of snow on the ground, and her eyes taking in the unfamiliar sights of the building. Her gaze eventually settled on a boy who looked as out of place as she felt, being escorted away from the front desk. Morie could put two and two together, which helped ease some of her uncertainty. She made her way to the desk, her expression maintaining her practiced default--distant, uninterested, cold. The faintest blush appeared on her cheeks at what she knew she had to say.
"... I've lost my body beneath the ice of a frozen lake, a-and... and need assistance retrieving it before it skips town."
Like the boy before her, a man was buzzed over for Morie to follow. She did, silently. He was clearly not interested in speaking, and neither was she, instead focusing her attention on her surroundings.
The man brought her to an elevator, going down to the prison level. The fact gave Morie curious pause, but by the time the elevator doors opened again, she was mostly over it. She trusted most of her confusion would be taken care of soon enough.
And it was, when the man revealed another elevator hidden behind a wall. Morie entered at the behest of the man, the doors closing behind her a moment before the girl felt herself descend further.
Alone now, Morie couldn't help but smile to herself, an involuntary attempt to slow her drumming heart. The girl's hand moved up to her mouth to rub her thumbnail against her teeth. Suddenly, her situation had gotten a lot more real. This was all so secretive and mysterious. From her previous talks with the director and Fashionista, she had an idea of what she had gotten into, but...
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open, bringing Morie out of her thoughts. She blinked, realizing she was immediately in the meeting place, evidently, considering the director along with a few other kids her age were lounging around.
Her smile dropped quickly as she went back to her practiced expression. The girl swallowed hard as she stepped out of the elevator, hiding any anxiety with a nonchalant check of her thin leather watch worn on the inside of her left wrist to confirm what she already knew--she was on time.
Morie strolled closer towards the gathered, glancing between them for a quick size-up, lingering on no one for longer than a second to sell her lack of interest.
There was the director, of course, looking as done with life as the first time she saw him. She gave him a slight nod since it felt appropriate, him being the clear direct superior here and all. The rest received no such courtesy though.
A girl with long pretty hair playing with a tinker gizmo. A rougher-looking girl with a metal arm, which gave Morie a moment of pause. A boy who seemed vaguely familiar--Overclock, she realized, having heard of him since she had moved to the city. Another boy who seemed to be at ease, sitting comfortably right next to the director. And finally, the kid Morie had seen escorted ahead of her. She overheard him introducing himself as Andy to the group.
Morie elected not to take any seat, instead continuing towards the nearest terminal to lean against it. She fished one earbud out of her pocket, putting it in, and tapped her phone screen in her pocket to continue her playlist, crossing her arms as she idly looked around the rather barren room.
Despite her gaze pointedly not looking towards any of the group... Morie couldn't help but feel a little excited at the thought of learning more about everyone. They all seemed so cool and interesting!
Not that she was about to let that show in her expression or body language though, of course. Well, beyond the faintest of smiles on her lips that even she herself didn't know she was wearing.

[Mintz]

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:02 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

The next face to show up was one that actually surprised the Director; Jane Rosner. Truth be told, with how she'd barely managed through the interview process, he hadn't expected her to muster the courage to walk through the front door, much less make it to The Wards' Lounge. He cracked a small smile. Perhaps things weren't so hopeless if someone like her could find the drive to make it here.

The smile dropped as quickly as it formed, giving a curt nod to the awkward Tinker, waving with her scrap-metal prosthetic. "Good to have you. Go ahead and take a seat." Well, this made for two. Both of the Tinkers. Huh, what a weird coincidence. He casually motioned towards the seats lining the rounded table, mostly towards the end away from himself and Workshop. If he had a decent grasp on this girl, he knew she'd keep her distance....But he couldn't just have her milling about either.

The next one was less surprising, though the stunt he'd pulled mere minutes ago was a different story entirely....Regardless, he was here....And Fukuda was quick to note the brief change of face upon just seeing Beverly. The files did mention they met before, supposedly being the cause of the 'time sphere' that now entrapped one of the old clunkers down at the docks, serving as some strange tourist trap. Guess it wasn't a fond memory for the kid. The Director could at least respect his mostly subtle attempts to either distance himself or keep an eye on the Tinker gal, though he had to wonder how this could affect the team as a whole...

For another time. He gave a wry grin in response to Overclock's, meeting the young man's lack of enthusiasm with his own. This wasn't ideal for almost anyone here; he'd have to learn to deal. "So you are. So you are..." Sean here was a great grab for The Wards, but when it came to his attitude and ideals, he brought his own set of problems....For now, though, there were yet more faces to concern himself with.

Which happened to be the one he'd least expect. Wilbur actually showed. He'll be damned.

Welp, that meant he'd have to pass these earbuds around sooner than later, once there were some more members; hopefully at least one more would show. But as for the kid himself...Fukuda watched with weary eyes as the boy strode through with that aura of smugness he'd grown used to in his brief stint at HQ prior to this, casually greeting the others and just as casually seating himself next to the Director, already idly drumming away on the armrests. This was gonna get annoying face.

"Call me Director. As for the question....You can be the judge of that." The deadpan expression that turned to Will spoke a thousand words. Not surprising, given the stunt he had pulled last time; the boy should've known better than to mess with a man's coffee when he works 18-hour shifts seven days a week.

The next arrival was the real oddball; the orphan boy, Andrew. Striding over, he said his piece to the Director before getting caught up seeing something of a local celebrity, though in Fukuda's mind that was stretching things a fair bit for Overclock. Oh well, at least he actually introduced himself. Though...'Codename'? Really? What was this, a spy movie? Granted, he had gotten the retinal scanner installed....Still, he gave a nod of acknowledgement to the young man as his attention was drawn away once more to a new face.

Morgan wasn't a very subtle young lady, as Fukuda was quick to catch the smile that had played on her face prior to setting it to a cold exterior like she had pulled in the interview. Maybe enough to pull one on a few of the kids here, but it wouldn't last long; with any hope (heh), the other Wards wouldn't give her a reason to keep her guard up. He returned her gesture with a small smile. Rachel had spoken glowingly of the young lady for the past week, even moreso than the other Wards, which gave the Director a small shot of confidence. Maybe not everyone in this room would force him into some hellish balancing act.

He found his smile leaving as she went off to the side, hanging silently around one of their terminals. Seriously, now? Old habits, he supposed...Oh well. "Before we continue, you all will be needing these." Casually reaching into the depths of his suit, Fukuda produced a number of small containers with a glass top, each one holding a pair of earbuds. For those sitting, he slid them across the table with well-calculated force, each one stopping short of falling off the end. For the two still standing....

"Heads up. And don't drop 'em, they're expensive." With a toss, two containers went off towards Jane and Morie each. The Director was fairly confident Morie would catch it just fine, but Jane...Well, let's just hope she didn't try and use that clunker of an arm. Clearing his throat a bit, Fukuda spoke up. "Those earbuds will allow communication between the lot of you, as well as between you and me." With that, he tapped one of his ears, showing off a similar set of earbuds. "Additionally...They're a necessary precaution to ensure Gray Man can't pull anything on you." He jabbed a thumb towards the young man at his side, unceremoniously ousting him. "Once you've got those situated, I believe some introductions are in order..." At this, he glances off to the side at the one who would be dubbed Memento, making a small motion of his head, the intent clear; 'get over here'.

---

---

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:56 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Oh, this was so exciting! When she heard the 'bing' echo throughout the mostly empty lounge, Bev couldn't help but have her eyes dart over! She found her vision greeted by a girl who, if she guessed, was maybe about her age, though she couldn't have claimed to recognize her. She would've if she'd seen her before! She was at the taller end of things like Beverly herself, though with short, choppy hair in comparison to her own, though of course, one thing caught her eyes above all others...

And it was beautiful!

Sure, to some, it'd look like a piecemeal collection of gears and springs and other such small metal knick-knacks, with the inclusion of a workwear glove and...Was that a flashlight's bulb? It was. Huh! Well, regardless, Workshop didn't - perhaps couldn't - see it in that way. She instead noticed the intricate work, how all the pieces managed to shift just right to create movement, the subtle clicking of springlock as metallic joints worked their magic. It was nothing short of incredible to her eyes, and truth be told, she only noticed the girl's greeting because she'd done it with her contraption of an arm. Blinking away for a bit and trying to gather her more normal thoughts, she returned the wave with a smile on her face. She was already excited for this, but a fellow Tinker? Or at least, she'd gleaned that much from the make of her limb. How awesome! She'd never properly met other Parahumans before, but this was already shaping up to be incredible!

Another toll of the elevator snapped her attention away from the other metalhead in the room, landing her eyes on...A surprisingly familiar figure. As they both locked eyes for a moment in his strides toward the table, Bev couldn't help the small pout on her face. She wasn't dense enough to miss how he tensed at the mere sight of her. That hurt....It had been an honest mistake! His fault for jumping a girl in the middle of designing highly unstable technology! They'd only met the once, and rude as it sounded, with how things ended up, she was sorta hoping not to run into him again anytime soon....

Looks like she wasn't getting that wish.

Unwittingly to her, the movements of her hands as they glossed over her latest contraption grew in speed and became a bit more erratic with the swing of her mood on Overclock's arrival. Still, she mustered up a smile again; weak, in comparison to the one she'd granted Jane, but it was there. "Heya, Overclock. Yeah, it has been a bit, hasn't it?" Somehow, him immediately referring to her as Workshop hurt even more, like he was distancing her from being a normal person. Here, right now, weren't they just some kids, really? Jumping straight to the silly made-up names just felt plumb wrong. Oh well...Guess it's what she signed up for. But she definitely didn't sign up for the rest of this awkward situation.

Just as he kept watch over her, Beverly returned the favor, a glower in her eyes that didn't match the quickly drained smile she possessed. Still, she tried her best to recover herself; so what if Overclock's here, acting like a butt over something that happened months ago? Still plenty of new, exciting faces to see! She regained a fraction of the energy she had just had earlier, eager to see who showed up next!

This guy looked a bit younger than Bev or the others. Maybe 14, 15? He was a little on the shorter end in comparison to the rest of them, which she attributed to the age gap, with sharp murky-green eyes that seemed to quickly appraise everyone else in the room, herself included. He also dressed awful fancy by her standards; honestly, it reminded her a bit of Mr. Fukuda. Casually as can be, he shot a smooth greeting to the room before sliding into the seat next to the Director, and making a small joke. Daycare? Yet again, Beverly could feel a small pout growing. Pokin' fun or no, she was certain Mr. Fu-...The Director put a lot of work into this. The Initiative deserved a bit more respect, in her eyes.

Truth be told, she was starting to get concerned; was she the only one here with some honest interest? It was starting to feel that way...The pit in her stomach grew a little heavier, as her work on the sphere began to progress in tandem with the feeling, unconsciously whipping out small tools and instruments to keep up the tuning process for...Whatever this thing was. She wasn't sure herself. It whirred every now and then, so that implied some kind of charge underneath the metal shell. Was it a grenade? Mm...Somehow, that didn't sit right. It wasn't that. Oh well! She had more time to work on it and puzzle at the use of it as someone new came in.

Workshop could feel her smile return. This kid also seemed young, around the well-dressed guy's age, she'd bet. And he seemed way more into it than the others! How could she not respond to all that enthusiasm? "Howdy, Andrew! Nice to meetcha!" Her hope in the situation had swelled back with such a simple act, and she was all the happier for it. Why couldn't the others be like Hope here? Not only did he seem swell, but it felt like he was actually interested! Well, regardless, she was just happy to not be the only one here eager for the experience.

Then, another gal showed up; shorter than Bev or Jane, though most of her figure was hidden under all the layers of clothing she wore, as if she sought to be absorbed into it. Can't say she blamed her for it though, it was cold out there! Even with her jacket, she'd been shivering more often than not on her way to the PRT HQ. She watched as the newcomer shuffled her way to the side towards one of the terminals (and her mind briefly wandered to how angry Fukuda might be if she dismantled one) and placed an earbud in to listen to some tunes. Aw drat, was she one of the ones who weren't into this too? With how she distanced herself, Beverly certainly thought so...Until, right as she was about to turn away, she caught the fringes of a smile on the girl's face.

She smiled too.

As the Director slid over the earbuds, and quickly chucked them off to the stragglers, Bev obediently popped the case and put them in. She wasn't sure what he meant by 'not letting Gray Man pull anything on you', but she couldn't think of a reason to ignore the request. And truth be told, it caused her mind to run off on what it could mean, her gaze falling on Levin for a time. Some kind of auditory ability? Maybe with Master qualities, if it could 'pull something' on us? Ooh, it sounded interesting....But that was for another time! Following it up, Fukuda not-so-subtly requested for The Wards to make their introductions. And with how well Andy there had done his, well, Bev wasn't about to be out-done.

Standing up from her seat, a broad smile graced the face of the Tinker as she addressed the room. "Heya! M'name's Beverly Hillshire, though ya can call me Bev if ya want! Or when we get out there and start kickin' rears, I suppose I'll be Workshop. Nice to meet y'all!" She gazed around the room, eager to see the responses. Hopefully she hadn't tried too hard with it? Felt sincere to her, at least....

In spite of the amount of focus she put into her intro, behind her back, her hands were still idly finicking with her device, as if they had a mind of their own. Strangely enough, she caught a barely audible 'click' from the sphere. Puzzled, she broke her line-of-sight with the rest of them as she brought the sphere back to her attention.

Needless to say, she wasn't prepared when it let out a spray of....Confetti? Now that was new. Beverly found herself suppressed under a steady stream of blue and white strands of confetti, practically buried after the few seconds the device had been active. In the pile of paper scraps, a single hand managed to poke through with a thumbs up. "....'M okay!" Could be heard muffled underneath. Inwardly, though, she might as well have been weeping. So much for first impressions...

[Akayaofthemoon]

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______________________________________	______________________________________________________________________________________ Location: Redline PRT Headquarters Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 5:57 PM Interactions: N/A ______________________________________________________________________________________

^{______________________________________________________________________________________}

A pair of scuffing footfalls against the pavement paused in their step along the walkway, the figure standing as still as a statue while others passed by with hardly a notice or care, those that did turning their noses up or pretending they saw nothing. A small palm reached out to catch the soft drift of snow as it added to the light dusting to the ground. Dark eyes tilted to the sky, a slight frown placed on the delicate face and brows furrowing in concern before a deep sigh left her lips, creating a puff of vapor as she shoved her hand back into the worn baggy pullover and picked up the pace. Aaliyah was really starting to hate the appearance of snow, the symbol just meaning a miserable night of trying to keep warm enough to survive the concrete jungle or even to find some hope of sleep. She had been lucky that a few fine citizens had pitied her and when that hadn’t been an option a few abandoned buildings had been better than the alley ways. There had been a few mishaps where she had to avoid authority or nice people trying to get her to an orphanage or back home to her family as they ‘must be worried sick’ which meant quickly bailing before avoiding those areas.

If she had learned anything in the last few months on the streets, it was not to draw unnecessary attention to herself so traveling by foot for now was for the best in many situations unless it was dire enough for a portal. The last thing she needed was to be roped into some kind of criminal activity or gang against her will because they found her useful but that aside, having to fight all the time or watch your back from multiple people without backup because you said no to an offer wasn’t the smartest of choices, portals or not. It was for these multitude of reasons that she had chosen to willingly step up as a volunteer for the Ward Initiative once the information had reached her ears. She wasn’t completely desperate before but she had been too kind, giving up money and sharing what she could so by now, she needed to be a part of this but that wasn’t her only reason. Yes, she needed the money and a place to stay but the main focus was on the people of this city. What was the use of having a gift like this if she couldn’t use it for the greater good? She had been trying her best to help here and there, most not really thankful but that was okay, she just was glad they were safe. She wasn’t all that sure of what she could do or how she could help more but if it meant the difference in a bad situation for someone else then she was all there to try.

A faint beeping caught her attention, causing her to curse under her breath at the warning alarm from the close to busted watch attached at her wrist. She hadn’t reached her destination yet and she still needed to reach PRT headquarters afterwards. Aaliyah swiftly ducked in an alleyway, doing a quick head check before an unnatural glowing purple hue appeared on the brick wall before her, spreading and ripping open the fabric of time and space to provide a new location on the other side of a glowing ring. She stepped through without hesitation, sealing the portal behind her as a shock face stared at her for a moment before pouting. “Girl! Are ya tryin’ ta give this old woman a heart attack!?” the woman sassed, turning her attention to the boy laying on a small mattress that had seen better days. He sat up with a huge goofy grin before coughing a bit harshly with a snuffle, “Allie! You’re back! I thought ya had left for good!”

”Well, I couldn’t just disappear without a proper goodbye from the best little man around. I also have a gift, though I know it’s not much. Tada!”, she said, snaking her hand into her sweater where she had been holding a paper bag and plopping down next to him. ”Hopefully it’s still warm but I know you were wishing for burgers the other day.”, Aaliyah said. “Wow! This is…” he coughed roughly again, nervous panic building in her as she rubbed his back gently. “Sorry, this is amazing but ya shouldn’t have.” he said softly with a small awkward smile. ”It’s fine, I promise. What are a few odd jobs when I get the reward of that smile.”, she answered as he dug into the bag. She looked back to the woman who was frowning at her, the same disapproving gaze she always did when she wasted what little she had on someone else. She had heard the lecture on repeat but it wasn’t something that would change. ”Don’t think I forgot about you.”, she stated with a soft smile. “Ya better not have. Just get yourself straight, dat is a good enough goodbye for me without all the gift hullabaloo.”

”Too late! I already got it so you better use it.”, she answered before tossing a small bag at her. It was caught and tears came to the woman’s eyes upon looking inside. ”That should help him and there are a few more supplies in there that should last for a bit if you use them carefully. I am not sure how well this will go or if I’ll be able to be back but I’ll try. Thank you, for sticking your neck out for me here and helping me when I needed it. You are good people, Molls.” Aaliyah said with a bright smile. The woman wrapped her up in a firm hug and cupped her cheeks. “Thank ya, dearie. Now get outta here. Don’t worry, we were fine before ya arrived and we will be after ya go.”

She nodded, not sure if she would be able to use her voice. She stood up, looking at her watch and almost wincing at the time since she was close to being late. Good thing portals were instant travel because it would have been embarrassing to be late. ”How do I look?”, she asked with a spin. She obviously didn’t look fabulous, with sneakers that were worn out with its original color being questionable, dirt and muck on the ripped jeans, a much loved hoodie that was multiple sizes too large with patch work sewing and a few light stains on the blue fabric, and of course her Afro which probably was sporting a leaf or two somewhere since she hadn’t brushed it out. “Like a million bucks…don’t let them intimidate you.” Aaliyah gave a nod before opening up the portal and stepping through to be met with PRT headquarters, she looked back and smiled. ”Take care.”, she said with a wave, before letting it close and the two of them disappeared from her sight. She took a deep breath, walking with determination as she entered the building, the receptionist waiting at the front. She knew how this was probably going to go but all of this was so excessive and stupid to her. It would be so much easier to just appear without all the fancy checks but it was fair that they needed to be cautious as well as keep things safe on their end.

”Hello….I'm a victim of crime. I'm here to complain that my sister has been hypnotised by the Mutants into auditioning for a movie role as Amazon.”, Aaliyah stated overdramatically even bringing tears to her eyes, figuring if she was going to say the stupidest phrase in existence that she might as well milk it all the way. The receptionist gave a curt nod, not giving away anything about if she was annoyed or pleased with the mini performance and buzzed an Officer who shortly entered into the room, escorting her to the elevator. She felt a nervous wave of panic, trying not to hyperventilate as she looked at the small cramped space. One wouldn’t be able to tell she felt any of those negative emotions as a bright smile was still placed on her lips as she stepped up just to the edge of the door. She glanced up at the Officer and innocently questioned with a hint of hopefulness, ”There isn’t any chance that you would just tell me the floor we are going to and I’ll just meet you there, is there?” She was met with a silent stare and found herself shakily walking into the elevator, closing her eyes and trying to keep calm and collected while gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white.

The ding of reaching their floor was like a sign from the heavens and she had no shame shoving the Officer aside to hastily exit first into a…prison? Huh, interesting. She followed behind, taking a look around as they did so since he seemed to be leading her further to the back. When she was greeted with a wall, she tilted her head figuring he was maybe someone like her or that this was a meeting spot until a retinal scanner popped out. The wall unfolded itself, unveiling yet another elevator, going even further down to who knows where. ”Nope, enough of this. I’m done.”, she flatly stated with a small salute to the Officer before placing a portal next to the elevator by picturing herself in an empty space next to the Director in her mind as she did so, stepping into the sight of….was that confetti? She was utterly confused about the mess she just walked in on as her portal snapped closed behind her before the Officer could be a problem. ”I expected a welcome but the confetti is a bit much don’t you think?”, she joked, trying to be friendly but feeling awkward around those her age. She hadn’t really been around others very much and had a limited experience since school. ”I apologize for almost being late, there was something extremely important I had to handle before hand.”, Aaliyah said directly to Fukuda before looking at the others that had already arrived. ”My name is Aaliyah and it is a pleasure to meet everyone.”, she smiled before taking the closest available seat away from the pile of confetti. ‘I hope I didn’t miss much…’, she thought to herself.

[Riegal]

Memento

---

"Before we continue, you all will be needing these."
She was the last to arrive? Huh. With the director's comment, Morie used two hands to gently catch the container he tossed her way--earbuds for comms. The girl felt a smirk tug at the edge of her mouth, the funny thought that she had been recruited into some kind of Cape secret service playing with her imagination.
The smile faded hearing the next part of the director's words, Morie's eyes glancing towards the boy who sat easily next to the director, a picture of self-confidence. She didn't know it, but her brow furrowed as she kept him in her sight, replacing her own earbud with the new pair with no hesitation. Gray Man. Likely a Master who could influence others through sound.
Morie's heartrate was rising, and she swallowed hard. Trying to avoid any obvious staring, her eyes darted away and stopped on the director for a moment when she saw him look her way, beckoning her to join the rest. She frowned slightly and looked back towards Gray Man. After a moment of hesitation, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and began to make her way over as the girl with the long, pretty hair stepped up for her introduction first. While Morie's racing mind was nervous and preoccupied with this Gray Man, she registered the girl's name--Beverly.
Perhaps a needed distraction from Morie's thoughts came in the form of Beverly's gizmo... malfunctioning. Morie found herself staring wide-eyed as the sphere spewed a lot of confetti. She finally blinked, having a hard time believing enough of the stuff had come out that it had essentially completely buried Beverly. Though Morie's confusion was clear on her face, she moved forward to take the hand Beverly had stuck out of the pile, pulling on it to help the girl out of her... papery tomb.
"Y-You okay?" was all she managed to say, cringing internally that she stammered her first word to any of them here--though luckily was left with just about no time to dwell on that thanks to the appearance of another girl.
Morie turned slightly and looked over her shoulder in time to see what looked like a portal closing behind the newcomer, who promptly introduced herself as Aaliyah. Despite the sudden chaos, Morie was learning about her peers, which was nice. Aaliyah who had some kind of ability to portal around, and Beverly who was... a tinker, of some sort.
Speaking of, Morie suddenly became acutely aware that she was still holding Beverly's hand, and let it go, trying not to bring attention to her realization. Instead, as she looked back to Beverly, she noted all the pieces of confetti hanging onto her, and reached up to help brush some out of her hair and off her shoulders. As she did so, she understood that she was probably expected to introduce herself next, seeing as she had probably brought attention to herself by helping Beverly. She quit brushing confetti off the taller girl and stuffed her hands back in her pockets, glancing around the room, feeling her face a bit warm.
"I-I'm--" she pursed her lips for a split second in annoyance at her failure again to not stammer, before finishing the sentence. "Memento." She thought about how the group had gotten a hint at Beverly and Aaliyah's powers, but... she couldn't really demonstrate hers at the moment--and she certainly did not feel like talking enough to explain it. She thought on the minor dilemma for a moment. Best to mention what was most relevant to them, she concluded--what everyone she had ever worked with cared about most, for better or worse. "I can heal you." They could get the details from a PRT file on her or something.
Morie gave Beverly a faint smile before stepping away again, not so far as a terminal, but slightly detached from the group. Her eyes glanced apprehensively towards Gray Man for another moment as she waited for further introductions, both anxious and excited by the unknowns of her situation.

[Duoya]

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:00 PM.
Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Fukuda was looking as displeased as ever, and Will could sense a little unease in his gaze. Or maybe it was weariness, or just annoyance - hard to tell, since the guy seemed to only have a limited set of facial expressions.

"Call me Director. As for the question... You can be the judge of that."

Oh yeah, definitely annoyance. Will tried to keep his smirk from growing. Even if he regretted it, Will couldn't help but take a bit of pride in his work. He resolved to check if they unclogged all the toilets when this meeting was over.

'That's what they get for being innocent bystanders in the warpath of your temper tantrum.' Will thought to himself, but he quickly shook it. Self-deprecation was only useful to make yourself seem more approachable, or to get a laugh out of someone - not too good to stick to that mindset.

The next guy showed up only a minute later, a boy that seemed closer to Will's age than everyone else in the room. He fanboy'd a little over the older kid in the room, but the information he provided was very useful - the kid with the sweet jacket was Overclock!

...Well, it would probably be more useful if Will knew jack shit about heroes. A big chunk of Redline knew about Overclock, Will included, but his wealth of knowledge on the vigilante ended at 'He's a really fast speedster.' If Will knew that he'd be on a team with the guy, he probably would have hung out with the Cape Nerds more often during lunch.

"So, what's your name? Mine's Andrew, but you can call me Andy!"

Will snapped out of his thoughts, and turned to the guy that walked in just now. He was sitting in the chair next to Will, and was actually starting up a conversation.

Thank god someone here was friendly! If Will was lucky, maybe he could get this 'Andy' kid to be his friend before he had to reveal that he was a master. For some reason, the fact you can mess with someone's brain by just talking to them really turns people off. Crazy, huh?

"Real pleasure to meet you Andy, name's Will."

Young, younger than me but not by much. Some muscle definition, maybe sports? His clothes look worn in, they're probably second hand and he couldn't afford new ones-

Jackpot. Will smiled now that he found his in.

"Not usually a fan of the ripped jean aesthetic, but you pull it off man. If you're not busy after this, maybe we could go clothes shopping."

Casual, leaned back. Pause a second. Make it look like it's no big deal.

"I'm getting a new jacket anyway, so no skin off my back."

Perfect. If he was lucky, Andrew's fashion sense was more out of necessity than simply not caring. A few dozen dollars and maybe some shoplifting, and Will could have a friend that felt indebted to him. It's a lot easier to get friendly with a group if another person is already your friend - the Wards couldn't be an exception. The only way it could be better is if Andy was already friendless, but his casual introduction didn't really give Will that kind of feeling.

Before the conversation could get much further, another girl entered. She just walked in without saying a word, and chose to stand in the corner by one of the terminals while listening to her music. It was hard to tell if she was just shy, or wasn't really a talkative type - whatever the case, Will was starting to notice a pattern.

Everyone was older than him.

Well, Andy wasn't - Will even was under the impression that Andy was younger than him. But the pair were quickly joining a minority in the room.

'Well of course they're older - they're doing crazy fighting shit. If some tween got mutilated, they'd get more flak than they could handle. They can afford to get a baby like me, I'm going to be on the sidelines and won't risk bad PR.'

Will silently nodded at his conclusion - that had to be the reason why there were so many big kids.

Or he was just overthinking things, and the parents of older teens were just more willing to sign the papers the PRT needed them to.

Will shook his head. The tangent was pointless to think about - the new girl liked music, so maybe he could get close with song recommendations? She might like Tchaikovsky, Cole was a big fan of classical... Nah, she didn't look like a douchebag, probably have different tastes in music.

"Before we continue, you all will be needing these."

Will caught the container that was slid his way, noting the earpieces that laid within. He realized their purpose too late, and couldn't speak before Fukuda continued.

"Those earbuds will allow communication between the lot of you, as well as between you and me. Additionally...They're a necessary precaution to ensure Gray Man can't pull anything on you."

Of course, as soon as Fukuda said that, everyone in the room started staring at Will. The young man cursed at the Director under his breath - normally he'd love this kind of attention, but he had learned what those looks meant all too well.

Apprehension.

Anxiety.

Distrust.

No one really liked a Master - especially the ones that could affect you, instead of doing whatever minion shit some of them had. Will understood that, and it made sense on a logical level. But god it was annoying to be treated like a leper when they learn that little piece of information.

...But Will couldn't really be too mad. It made sense to hand out something that stopped your fresh team of capes from being Master'd on accident by one of their own. He just wished that Fukuda could have let him break the news instead.

'Well at least now I can be guilt-free about the Coffee thing. An eye for an eye, or whatever.'

One of the standing girls was eyeing him up particularly hard, though she was doing a better job than some at hiding it. Maybe Will could break the ice with a snide comment? 'Like 'em on the younger side? I don't min-' No, Will could tell she was the shy type just from the way she was standing. Calling her out would just embarrass her, and Will needed all the clout he could get right now...

Didn't stop Will from giving her a sly wink. The shy ones were the most fun to mess with, after all.

"Once you've got those situated, I believe some introductions are in order..."

Will perked up - finally, the part he was waiting for!

First girl to speak up was the Tinker- er, the Tinker without the metal arm. Bev. Bit of an accent, but he couldn't place it. Kept messing with that device in her lap even while she talked. She seemed nice enough, maybe a-

All of a sudden, a massive stream of confetti whirled out of the device in her lap, quickly burying the girl in a stream of confetti - quite a few strips of colored paper landed on Will, though he was too shocked to be too annoyed. A hand burst out of the pile and formed a thumbs-up as Bev called out from within, and the shy girl from earlier ran forward to help. Well, makes sense why she was picked - Will on the other hand, chose to protect himself from the harmless exposion of paper, rather than help Bev up.

Phew. Wow, uh, nice Terminator 2 reference, but could ya warn us next time you-

All of a sudden, a portal appeared within feet of Will and the Director, and another girl promptly walked out. This time, Will clearly jumped in surprise and nearly let out a yelp, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment as he sat back in his seat.

'Tinkers can make their paper bombs, so portal girls can make their portals - should have seen that one coming, Wilbur.'

The girl, who introduced herself as Aaliyah, quickly sat in a nearby seat, the shock of the situation making it so that Will couldn't pick up much more than her name. And other than a final anxious look at him, Memento - had to ask her real name after this, Will was not a fan of the made-up names everyone had going on - had such a brief introduction that Will couldn't glean much from it. She was definitely heroic, and healing was a power that everyone was interested in. But if it was just simple healing, she would make a much bigger difference by just walking in hospitals and healing the sick...

Will shrugged. Maybe she knows that if she does that, she'd have to spend most of her day doing nothing but healing people. Or maybe her power is limited too much to do that. Whatever the case, she'd be real popular once she got past her shyness their lives a few times.

After Memento stepped to the side, Will cleared his throat and started speaking.

"Wow, already a pretty colorful cast of characters, huh?" Will exaggeratedly wiped a few of the bright pieces of confetti from his shoulder as he spoke. "In more ways than one. Kudos by the way Aaliyah, lot of panache in that entrance."

Lean forward. Straighten your back. Smile- no, with your eyes too, dippy. The slight change in posture and his false cheer quickly made Will look more like a used car salesman, rather than a prospective Ward.

"You guys can call me Will, or if you're a fan of the whole made-up name thing, Gray Man works. I enjoy long walks on the beach, slasher flicks, an- oh, and I got a little side bid-ness, so if you guys need a fake ID, come to me after the meeting and I'll hook you up!"

Will threw a glance at the Director, and made a few scared expressions.

"N-nah, I don't do that kind of stuff, heh..." Will added in a couple exaggerated winks for flavor, and grinned at the wriggling sensation in his gut. Test successful. Just confessed he lied, and the master effect broke - clearly these earpieces weren't too effecti-

Wait, no. False alarm. Aaliyah just hadn't put hers in yet.

Damn it.

"Oh shit, sorry Aaliyah - wasn't intentional, that will go away in a second. Mr. F, you, uh, got any more of those earpieces?" Will paused for a second, waiting to make sure everyone had their earplugs in before he continued. "Yeah sorry about that, just wanted to see if those things would work or if you guys would have that classic 'Wooooah, I just got Master'd!' look. Give whoever made these things a raise, Mr. F." Will shook his empty earpiece container as he spoke.

"But yeah, I'm starting to get bored - I'm the team Cheerleader and Comedic Relief, that's basically all I got going on. If you want to get into a concert for free or need something that doesn't involve punching a guy in the face, hit me up."

Lean back. Relax. Ease up on the smiling, a smirk works for now. No sense telling them how his power worked - he was already dragging on a bit long, and could always tell them later. Will did his best to keep a casual disposition, but was eagerly observing how everyone took his introduction. It was hard dealing with new people - but once he got a better grip on their personalities, maybe he could do the 'make friends' thing more seriously. If they laughed, he could keep hamming it up - if they cringe, well it looks like they take their spandex crime-fighting very seriously, and he'd need to lean off the jokes.

However they took it, it didn't really matter. Will was already wearing a mask - he just needed to find the right one to swap to, the one that they'd like.

[Letter Bee]

Andrew Bennett/Hope

Showing a surprising capability to ignore the confetti and the minor commotion this caused, Andrew put on his earbuds then walked over to Will, aka Gray Man, before saying, bluntly, "The earpieces work. Which is good, as we still have to go on that clothes-shopping trip." The boy smiled brightly before passing a hand over his hair, which started to turn silver, then suddenly turned black. "Note that The Wards pay us, so I'll be paying for my new clothes."

Then his smile turned to a light smirk as he continued, "You can pay for lunch, though; there's this coffeeshop - Which also sells sandwhiches - which I haven't been able to do more than look at for my entire life..."

Don't be pushy, Andrew! the young man thought to himself. This is the first time you've ever invited someone to lunch! And we don't even know if he, umm... Yeah, let's not go down that road.

Blinking at himself, then turning to the Director, Andrew said to both him and Will, "Okay, did I say anything wrong? Most of my social interaction was between people I grew up with or are older than me or are younger than me. So I really don't know if I am failing at talking to people right now."

This was true, but Andrew knew enough that Will had very little actual hope for himself; he can sense it. And he knew enough to guess that the other boy wanted friends; very few people his age didn't want them unless they were really screwed up and he had an inkling that Will was not that far gone yet. So Andrew looked at Will in the eyes and said, "On second thought, forget lunch and forget what I said if you want to forget - Let's just be friends."

His hair turned brown again, a demonstration of his control over his powers which nevertheless didn't say too much about what said powers were capable of right out of the blue. There would be time for the others to discover the full extent of his abilities and how they were positively terrifying (The Director had already received a full briefing, by the way).

Now, for Morgan and Aaliyah, Workshop and Jane; he could not afford to intentionally neglect them despite the fact that Will was, well... He himself was an adolescent boy who was facing the fact that he liked other boys and the occassional girl, which led to him probably ignoring the others. So the boy then walked over to Morgan and extended a hand, saying, "So, seems we've got a... I checked this in the dictionary, ramboctious fellowship of potential heroes? If so, welcome; we're glad to have a dedicated healer on our side! Also, if you want, we can go clothes-shopping as well, but on a different day than my outing with Will!"

Yeah... Way subtle about your feelings for the other boy, Wananbe-Romeo. Then to Aaliya, "It's a pleasure to meet you too! You were so cool!"

Which was true; portals were a cool power. He then waved hi to Jane and Workshop before looking at the Director and asking, "So, are we waiting for anyone? Do we have an initial assignment? Is Overclock our squad leader?"

[Blizz]

______________________________________________________________

Jane barely caught the earpiece that the Director tossed her way. Her mechanical arm jerked forward like a dog ready to heave up something it shouldn't have bit into, and she caught it, but then it slipped out of her hand, and then she caught with her other hand, and it slipped again into her other one. Jane was many things, but a starter for the catcher position on the Redline Redliners baseball team was not one of them. When the director brought up introductions, she deliberately waited to go last so she could get a feel for these people before she said anything that might make people not like her. A girl about her age, and another tinker no less, went first. Beverly Hillshire. That was a nice name. She seemed like a pretty nice girl, Jane thought. Seeing people her age made Jane relax a little, and she started feeling a bit more optimistic about this when Overlock of all people turned out to be a member of the Ward Initiative. Overclock. She knew the guy, not personally, but who in Redline hadn't at least heard of the dude? He was a big deal, as far as Jane was aware anyway. Two tinkers and a hardcore speedster who already knew what he was doing? A huge relief in Jane's eyes.

While people were starting to introduce themselves, Jane started to think this might actually work out. Until she didn't... Beverly's contraption exploded into a mountain of confetti, absolutely burying the girl. Jane wasn't expecting that, so she jumped a mile like someone just popped a balloon in her face. And then another girl appeared through a portal- another mover?! -and the one who consigned herself to the corner ran over offering to heal her. It was a very hectic scene all of a sudden, not something Jane was accustomed to being right next to, and it somewhat killed the mood. Jane finally relaxed a little when one of them just went with it. The kid whose voice sounded like the color green, Will. Aka, Gray Man. He seemed awfully unbothered by the whole ordeal that just happened, and it made Jane feel even more out of place.

Jeez, she really should've just stayed in the yard.

Okay. Introductions. Come on, she thought. At least say something.

"Well, uh- That's crazy. Huh? Yeah, okay...Hi." She sounded notably awkward. "Name's Jane. Jane Rosner. I don't really have a codename, but- well." She raised her arm up for them to see, in all of it's hacky, junkyardborne grittiness. Some of it actually looked like it was starting to rust over.

"Tinker. If you need something big and mean or something that a person operates, that's me. Like...Uh- something you climb inside, a mech, maybe. Maybe something that move things, or, y'know. This." She motioned to the ugly-looking arm. "If anyone gets blown up and loses a leg, don't worry, huh?"

God, that was awful.

She meekly made her way over to one of the couches and sat down on the far edge of the first one she saw. Jane hoped, suddenly, that none of them recognized her anywhere. Moreso, she hoped that she was lucky enough that Overclock didn't happen to see her when she was putting food on the cinderblock during a split fraction of a second any time he was using his power. That lighting of his kept her awake on more than one night, and she's lost track of how many times she saw it tearing through the city. Hopefully not, she told herself, he was pretty intimidating power-wise, after all.

[Mintz]

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:04 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Atsushi couldn't suppress his groan that immediately followed the outburst of Workshop's latest gizmo. This was the first official day and there'd already been an incident. Taking a breath to collect himself, he was surprised to find his eyes drawn to a blueish rift in space, from which walked a quite last-minute arrival. Gress. Well, that's a pleasant surprise, though he found a slight frown crossing his face from the abrupt use of her Power. Was it that much of a hassle to use a damn elevator? And speaking of...

How had she used her Power to get here? Last Fukuda remembered, the files guessed that her ability was restricted either by line of sight, or at least a clear vision of the location in mind. She had neither for this. Huh...Turning his attention for a brief moment, the Director slid out his datapad and filed in some new information. Though, returning to what was at hand, he couldn't help but cringe as she mentioned the confetti, and his glance skimmed to the fresh pile of colored paper that had practically entombed Workshop. Still, he gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement, and a brief comment.

"Of course, happy to have you. Although...I ask you refrain from excess use of your Power."

With that handled, he could focus on other matters, such as the fact Morgan was helping the poor girl who had become buried alive in her own folly. Glad someone did it, because he had a feeling that if it came down to him, it'd just make Workshop feel worse than he was certain she likely did. Though her introduction certainly was lacking...Especially when it came to her abrupt mention of a mere facet of her Power. That might give the wrong ideas. Clearing his throat after she spoke up, the Director addressed all the youths gathered once more.

"While yes, Memento possesses the capability to heal, it's far from her main trait. I'll ask you all refrain from anything too foolhardy just because she said she could patch you up." Fukuda gave a strained smile. Seriously, of all the things for her to mention, it had to be the part that would complicate things most? Sheesh.

While Fukuda hadn't paid much mind to what Andrew and Will were speaking about, he couldn't help a slight smirk appearing on his own face as he picked up the whisper of a curse from the Master boy. An eye for an eye, kid...And besides, this would have to happen eventually, and Gray Man certainly hadn't done anything to earn the right to do it himself.

Then the kid turned the charm on as he spoke to the rest, obviously testing the waters and gauging reactions. Well, more accurately, it was obvious to the Director; people like Wilbur were a dime a dozen when it came to how they acted, and he was all too familiar. However, Fukuda's eyes lay upon the boy in a low glare as he felt it. It was a brief static of the mind, easily shrugged off thanks to the light distortion of noise offered by these earbuds, but still, Levin had tried it.

His glare turned into a sigh as he realized the latest arrival actually was being affected. Little shit...

Not respecting Wilbur with a verbal response, he slid out another case to Aaliyah to equip herself with. Said and done with. The kid was already trying his patience, and it hadn't even been ten minutes. Christ...The Director pinched the brow of his nose in mild annoyance, taking a moment to recollect himself again.

Then, sweet mother of God why, Andrew asked him and Will if he was...Socializing right? Another sigh escaped Fukuda. "Andrew...The fact you need to ask should probably be a bad sign." What the hell was this? Between him and Jane, Fukuda was convinced the social skills of this group plummeted. He'd sooner let Beverly on Tonight With K&C than even imagine these two trying to hold anything akin to a normal conversation. "...And on another note, kid, it's not a good look to use your Power like that." Wasn't exactly subtle either, with all the hair-changing and shit. Probably didn't even understand how that kind of thing was an invasion of privacy in its own right, on par with Gray Man...Except he couldn't just bug Tech Wizard about something like this. Also, damn, he was pretty sure this guy had the attention span of a goldfish with how quickly he jumped from one person to another with comments, although he only gave the two Tinkers the barest minimum of interaction. Hell was that about?

...Then he started asking about what they were doing. Great. Well, had to get this out of the way. "...To answer your questions, yes, no, and no. While they'd be late at this point, there are a few others that might be making an appearance. When it comes to an assignment, I mean..."

Fukuda rubbed his temple a bit, trying to stay level-headed. This was the first day, and he was already asking about assignments? Fucking hell..."...Currently, no. Today will mostly be briefing, getting to know each other, and become familiar with your Headquarters down here. At most, if we're good on time, there'll be some nighttime patrols to get you all started. As for a leader..."

The Director shared a glance with Sean. Yeah....No. For a plethora of reasons, there was probably no way the kid would (or rather, should) be running the team. But how to break it..."...While it's true Overclock here has, bar none, the most experience in handling these scenarios amongst you all, and is one of the eldest members here, I'd prefer everyone get a say on that matter, and perhaps test the waters on the field before you go pointing fingers. We may still have a surprise leader in our midst yet." God, he hoped so. Truth be told, most of them didn't feel like leader material one way or another. Maybe Aaliyah? She was one of the older kids here, seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, and doesn't come packed with all the issues of Overclock...But beyond her, the others were probably too young for the responsibility, or shouldn't (or in a certain case, couldn't) be trusted to handle the kind of pressure that position has. Tricky...

At least his attention was taken away as Jane made her...'Introduction'. Honestly, Fukuda had to resist the urge to slam his head into the desk then and there. Christ alive girl, telling them that you'll hook them up with some prosthetics? Holding the groan that built in his throat was the most monumental task the Director had faced yet.

---

---

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:04 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Beverly could vaguely make out the arrival of a new person, though strangely found the ring of the elevator absent. However, her main concern was hearing the confetti comment, digging her head deeper into the pile with a moan of shame that went unheard. Beyond that, the bits and pieces she heard from the new arrival (Aal...Something? Ally?) sounded nice enough. Maybe if this weren't such a miserable situation, she'd take some solace in that.

Truth be told, when she could feel a hand reach out to help her out, she almost didn't want to take it. Maybe she'd be better off sitting in the pile, spitting out paper wads...But eventually, her drive to make something of this mess outmatched her despair at making such a colossal flop in front of all these people. With a grunt of effort, she popped out like a zombie crawling from its grave, latching onto the chair for support as she rose up with the aid of Morgan, sputtering out pieces of confetti as she did.

She almost missed the girl asking if she was okay; Bev had been too caught up in the looks of others. She was never too great at reading others, so all the glances she saw as she had been yanked from her self-made tomb were ones of disinterest at best, or cruel amusement at worst. Still, shaking paper from her hair as best she could, she mustered up a big smile for Morie. She'd earned that much. "Awful sweet of ya to help me out, thanks. And I'm f-" With a bit of a cough, a few stray pieces of white and blue drifted from Beverly's mouth. Her spirit sank just a bit lower, another fragment of mirth sucked from her voice. "...I'm fine."

Bev actually jerked forward a bit when the girl pulled out of her grasp. She'd been so caught up with everything she'd plum forgot! Catching herself, she gave a laugh, one a bit more awkward than she was used to. "Oh, M'bad! Still collectin' myself 'n all." She hadn't expected Morie to immediately transition over to picking the colorful confetti off of her, and couldn't hide the slight surprise in her face, which soon shifted to a warm smile. Well, she could at least say with certainty she was one of the good ones! Though, when she awkwardly shifted to making her introduction, Beverly couldn't help but feel that some of Morgan's nervous energy was her fault. She didn't stay on that train of thought for long, however, when she suddenly spoke a few mere words.

"I can heal you."

Beverly blinked a few times, having a double take. "...A-Are ya serious? I mean, Iunno much 'bout Parahumans, but ain't that sorta a big deal?" She looked to Fukuda for confirmation as he spoke up in retaliation to Memento's claim. "Oh, it's like, a part of it...Makes more sense. Still, that's super neat! Could I, uh, ask 'bout the full deal? I'm awful curious now, hehe.." When Memento drifted back, almost unconsciously on her part, Bev found herself standing up and sticking next to her instead of the rest of the table. She...Didn't want to talk with them for a minute. Still, even then, she couldn't stop herself from digging in the confetti pile beforehand, yanking back out....A perfectly intact sphere.

'Not an explosive! Knew it!' Beaming with a small bit of pride in herself yet again at the small discovery, she pocketed....Whatever the hell that thing actually was, and stuck herself next to Morgan. If she just kept her mouth busy, then hopefully she'd be able to ignore that urge to go messing with the darn thing again for a few seconds...

Though she found her attention yanked from her Confetti Savior for a moment when Jane, the other Tinker in the room, had finally spoken up. And....Well, her passion was restored when they brought up their talents, and a promise for an awesome prosthetic should they end up horribly maimed! While the others were probably very understandably offset by it, Beverly beamed with a thumbs-up towards the scruffy young lady. "I'll hold ya to it, Janey! That'd be awesome!" As if already imagining it, she was flexing her right arm around a bit, trying to envision a world where she, too, had a dope metal arm.

[yoshua171]

_{Caiden McKay
^Crosspoint}

_{Date/Time: November 11th, 2022; 5:45 PM → 6:05 PM
Location(s): Redline, near HQ → Redline, PRT Headquarters.}

---

Reference

---

---

Laying in his room on his back, three swords spun lazily through the air several feet above him. With unfocused eyes and a habitual half-grin, he watched them as power, like beads on an abacus, was distributed behind his eyes.

A gentle knock on his door caused the turning blades to pause for barely an instant. Caiden didn’t respond, yet the door tried to open, only to catch on another set of blades that had manifested a moment before. “It’s locked,” he called out without energy, hearing a huff from beyond the sealed gateway. He chuckled. “Oh hold on, I’m coming,” he said, dismissing the three blades overhead with a flick of his wrist as he pushed into a seated position. Fixing his hair, the young man glanced across the room at the closet door and the mirror on it. Turning from it he looked at the door and then gestured–all while knowing full well that his mom knew he didn’t have a lock. He wasn’t allowed to actually, not anymore. Granted, that didn’t really stop him from barring her entrance anymore, something she tolerated only because she had no choice.

Pushing the door open, his mother gave him a look that might flay someone else alive, before she managed to collect herself with a few practiced breaths. She always had been into that kind of thing, eastern mambo jumbo or whatever.

Giving his mother a small wave before she could begin, Caiden used the motion to check his wristwatch, noting the time, before he pushed to his feet in a swift motion and took her into a hug. Caught entirely off guard by the display of apparent affection, she was entirely unprepared when he easily spun her around 180 degrees so his back was to the door, and hers to the far wall. He pulled away, gave her a peck on the cheek, snatched his backpack from beside the door, and then in a single motion was out the door of his room.

By the time he was three-fourths of the way down the stairs, she’d fully recovered and was stalking after him. He knew those heavy footfalls, now she had her hackles up. Claws out, she started to speak. “Now, wait just a min–”

“Love you mom!” He interrupted, flashing her a brilliant smile, before he whisked his way out the door, coat falling into place. “See you at dinner!~”

Then he was running, the action taking the breath that he otherwise would have used to laugh. Sure, there’d be hell to pay later when he got home, but his mother’s temper had always been a fickle thing, cooling faster than she’d like. Besides, this way he’d gotten what he wanted: He was late to the Wards meeting.

Rolling his eyes as he turned the corner, just barely hearing the muffled sound of his home’s front door crunching open against the snow, Caiden slowed down. Chuckling to himself, not even winded from the short run, he began making his way towards the PRT headquarters. After all, he was interested in the program, he just resented the fact that he’d been forced to participate.

Now the only problem was the fact that he didn’t exactly have a car to arrive all the faster, granted it wasn’t as if being extra late was much worse than being a little late. “Pfft,” he laughed slightly, shaking his head as he broke into a slow jog, he lived close to the building anyway. It had been convenient, and as a natural consequence, the surrounding neighborhoods were exceptionally safe. Frequent patrols made for a low crime rate it seemed. Go figure. So it was that after about fifteen minutes of his pace he found himself a few blocks from the building.

Slowing down, Caiden removed his gloves and shoved them–and his hands–in his pockets. With a roll of his eyes he mouthed the passphrase he’d been told to use to verify himself at the front desk. After he was satisfied with the accuracy of his performance and recollection, he picked up his pace slightly, though not so much that he might be perceived as particularly eager to get somewhere.

Still, in spite of his efforts there was a purposeful–if relaxed–manner to him as he moved. Passing through the threshold without issue, Caiden gave the receptionist a half-wave in greeting, his grin reaching his eyes as she addressed him.

“How can I help you, young man?” The woman said, giving him a brief once over, her posture shifting subtly as she did. He couldn’t quite tell if she was more relaxed or less so. It didn’t really matter, but it would be nice to know. Leaning forward and bringing his left arm up to rest against the high front desk, Caiden glanced once to the side and then back to her, with a conspiratorial look about him. “Would you believe me if I said that you’d caught my eye through the window and I just had to come in?”

Caiden’s gaze didn’t even dart down as he caught the memory of her name tag in his mind’s eye. She pursed her lips and a stern politeness pulled at the edges of her eyes slightly upwards. One corner of her lips twitched downwards, but she smiled performatively instead. “While that’s very flattering–” she lied, “–I’m afraid I can’t help you unless you have some business with the PRT…Mr…” She trailed off with an implied question and Caiden could tell that she was used to dealing with flirtation and unwanted attention.

“Caiden Mckay,” he offered with a winning smile, straightening slightly, giving her more space, as if he were backing off. Still, looking not the least bit put off or chastised, he pressed on. “My apologies, I should have led with my name Ms. Rodriguez,” her shoulders relaxed slightly, “...and please excuse my forwardness, I only meant that you looked like you could use a pick me up. Morning shifts are always so tiring, no matter the job.” Her hands shifted, head tilting slightly and an almost unreadable look flickered across her face. A series of barely noticeable microexpressions.

Caiden rose back to his full height, removing his arm from the desk in the process and returning it to his pocket. At the same time, his right hand emerged. He placed his palm flat against the desk. Caiden noticed her eyes dart down, then meet his again. There was curiosity there, and perhaps a seed of interest. Still, that could just as easily become annoyance instead. He laughed slightly, it just felt right even though he wasn’t quite sure why he’d done it. Sliding his hand away, he revealed a piece of card paper, roughly the size of a business card. Facedown as it was, it would be impossible to tell if there was anything written on it. “Of course, I’d hate to waste your time, so I do have some business with your organization.”

Ms. Rodriguez gave him another appraising look before she reached out, her lips twitching upwards slightly from the pleasant–if largely unreadable mask she’d affected. Her fingers, splayed, gained purchase on the small card, then Caiden’s hand–reflex-fast, was on the paper too, two fingers pressing it down so she couldn’t take it fully.

“Naturally, I do expect the utmost discretion in these matters, if you please, miss.”

There it was, a flash of suspicion, intrigue, then as he quirked one side of his lips upwards he saw her smile finally touch her eyes. Could that be…amusement?

“Naturally,” she drawled out, the faintest of accents slipping into her voice as she relaxed fully. Nodding, he withdrew his fingers, letting his hand come to rest once more palm down on the desk in a relaxed position.

“Besides, it’s only best that such matters be handled by the most cut-throat, high influence observers in the field.”

Finally, she flashed him a small, if genuine, smile as she flipped the card and read the other half of his passphrase. Eying him once more she typed in a code on her phone, before lifting the phone for two seconds, and then hanging up.

“Of course Mr. McKay. We wouldn’t want this sort of thing getting out, now would we” It wasn’t really a question, but as an official-looking man in uniform approached, he answered anyways.

“Certainly not, Ms. Rodriguez.”

She gave him a smile and for an instant he saw her catch herself as he gave her a slight wink and followed the gentlemen towards the elevator. In a tone that registered to Caiden as forced-casual, she replied. “Be careful in the field Mr. McKay.”

He didn’t miss a beat though, quipping back in an instant, “...careful of the hounds at your heals, Miss. Do give me a call if you ever need someone to handle them. I’m great with animals.” He waited a three count and then glanced back her way with a smile.

She was looking, but caught herself, gave him a courteous–too-polite–smile, before quickly turning away. ‘Filthy cougar’ he thought to himself, affectionately as the elevator doors closed behind them.

A few moments of silence passed in the elevator as they descended. Caiden took no mind of the floors, not particularly caring how deep they were going into the complex. However, the officer didn’t seem satisfied with just silence, as Caiden noticed the man eyeing him with an almost hostile glare. As they exited the elevator on the prison floor–Caiden glancing around idly–the man decided to break what had, for him, likely been a tense moment. “You better not be giving Camile any trouble, boy,” the officer said in his gravely voice.

Caiden found the surprisingly honest hostility in the threat rather refreshing, but he didn’t respond, only giving the man a lazy smile. The man bristled slightly, narrowing his eyes before turning his gaze to the oncoming wall, where they stopped. Tilting his head curiously, Caiden watched as a scanner went over the officer’s eye. A moment later the wall folded away to reveal a second elevator. He had to admit that was pretty cool, still he didn’t show much of a reaction, merely stepping into the chamber before turning back to the officer before the doors closed.

“Don’t give me a reason to, sir,” he replied. The officer’s eyes widened fractionally before an expression bordering on a sneer began to form. The man almost stepped into the elevator before the doors shut, but a large 3-foot-long blade flashed into being from a shimmering haze of prismatic light, stopping his advance. While it was harmless–its flat facing the man–it still served well enough, before vanishing the moment the elevator was closed.

Caiden chuckled to himself lightly and turned again, facing the elevator’s other door. People were so fun, hopefully, his team would be at least half as amusing as the receptionist and her would-be man.

When the door opened to reveal what were presumably all the other Wards–and the Director, naturally–already present and accounted for, Caiden just cleared his throat slightly and gave a wave as he entered the control room fully.

“Nice digs, Team, Director. Sorry I’m late, had some trouble with the family.” Sitting down directly across from Mr. Fukuda, Caiden noted the headphones everyone was wearing and gestured. “Mind sliding me a pair, boss,” he said, the word ‘boss’ somehow coming off as mocking despite the fact that he’d hardly put any emphasis or particular inflection on it. When the Director complied–as he surely would–Caiden would put the devices in his ears with practiced ease, the motions as relaxed and fluid as the rest of his mannerisms. Shrugging off his poofy coat in the warmth of the room, Caiden revealed the colorfully stylish hoodie beneath, which served to further accent his white hair and blue eyes.

“I’m Caiden McKay by the by,” he said in introduction once he was situated, his every word coming easily. It was clear immediately that he was someone used to talking, but not someone who talked too much. Similarly, there was a general air of ease about him, as if he could be utterly relaxed in any situation or in any group of people, like it was all the same to him. He smiled slightly, the expression lighting up his eyes with a subtle playfulness as he regarded his fellow Wards.

“I’ll be Crosspoint, in costume, but Caiden is fine otherwise. I hope we can get along.”

He left it at that, not even seeming to mind the not-inconsiderable amount of confetti that now occupied the room or the girl with the hodgepodge mechanical arm. Instead, he remained quiet and relaxed, just soaking up the atmosphere; reading the room.

Just on looks alone, it seemed the Wards might just turn out to be an interesting lot after all.

Perfect~

[canaryrose]

Carmen couldn’t stop staring at the oven clock. 5:55. Director Fukuda- who had sounded very serious- had given a deadline of 6:00. The Fosters’ apartment was close to the PRT building, but it was rush hour, and she wouldn’t get there by 6:00. Frick. Her mom was late. Why was she late? Carmen could have walked herself, but nooo. She wasn’t allowed to walk there by herself. She had to get a ride. From her mom. No one else was getting a ride from their mom! Older kids got to walk, or take a taxi, or may even drive… so unfair.

She was still in her school uniform. The crest of Redline Middle School was emblazoned on the right side of her blue polo, and she wore khakis underneath and a gray puffy jacket on top. As she waited for her mom, Carmen had packed a backpack for the Wards headquarters, too. Hadn’t he mentioned there were beds there? She had the red backpack slung over her shoulders. She had also tidied the house, and packed herself an Uncrustable and some carrot sticks for dinner later. She had been busy. But now, Carmen stood by the door until…

Her mother walked in. Valerie was a short yet imposing woman, wearing a boxy police uniform. She looked similar to her daughter- dark hair, dark skin. “Carmen, come on, go, get in the car, you’re late!” Her mom rushed her out the door and down to the car- a police car. Carmen groaned.

“Seriously? We’re taking the squad car?”

“Jonas has the other car. Get in. I won’t have you getting fired on your first day.”

Carmen resisted the very true rebuttal that she was already late and climbed into the front seat. It was always disorienting to find herself in the front seat of a cop car, and even more disorienting to know she was headed towards her own version of law enforcement. As they pulled out of the driveway, Carmen fiddled with her hair. Had she forgotten to get the hair tie out of her room? Dangit! With a kind of ease, she summoned a purple scrunchie from thin air and used it to put her hair up. It would dissipate later, but she would find a more permanent solution. Her mom’s gaze slid towards her, silently judging.

“You know, Carm,” she started, and Carmen braced herself for whatever she was going to say, “I want you to understand something. These other kids you’ll be working with are trouble. They’re delinquents, criminals. I don’t want you getting mixed up in all their business. Keep your distance and don’t get comfortable.”

Carmen shifted in her seat, eyes on her mom. “How do you know that? I thought our identities were supposed to be secret.”

“They are! Don’t worry. Just… most parahumans are trouble. Something about the… the powers and psychology or something. I don’t know.”

“But I’m a parahuman,” Carmen said. It was something that had taken her a lot of time to come to terms with it. She was pretty sure she still hadn’t come to terms with it. Her power seemed so tiny, but getting it had changed her life. She wasn’t sure if that change was good or bad, but it was change.

“Well, yes, but…” Valerie trailed off, looking resolutely into the street. “You’re different.” She left it at that, and Carmen frowned.

“I don’t-”

“Jesus, this traffic,” her mom interrupted. There was in fact, a long line of cars trailing through their icy downtown, but Carmen couldn’t see how that was relevant. Although she was going to be late, and that was a terrifying thought. “Hm. Can’t have you be late Let’s fix this.” Without warning, her mom flicked the sirens on and began to speed up, other cars making way for them and their supposed emergency.

Carmen flattened herself against her seat. “MOM!” she screamed.
“Seriously?! This is SO embarrassing!”

Valerie laughed. “But you’re not as late as you would’ve been, are you?” They pulled up to the PRT Headquarters at exactly 6 o’clock. People turned their heads, spooked as the cop car with the sirens pulled up and then turned them off. A few PRT officers turned their heads, making their way over to the car. “Get going, Carm. I’ll see you at home- curfew is 9:30, you understand? Don’t let that Fukuda guy keep you later, or I swear to God he is dead. It’s not a school night but you need your sleep. Oh, and be careful-”

Carmen stepped out of the car, still flushed. “Bye. See you later.” She huffed and headed into the building, red backpack slung over her shoulder. She checked her watch. 6:01. Frick! She sped up, walking to the receptionist’s desk with purpose. What was it that she was supposed to say? Something strange… She thought for a moment as the receptionist stared at her curiously. She had seen a ton of teenagers today and knew what was coming. “Hi, I’m here because, um… my mom got bit by a rat and it turned her into a Herald.” That sounded right.

The receptionist sighed. “You’re the last one, kid.” She buzzed up an officer to escort Carmen down to the Wards headquarters.

A PRT officer showed up in full tactical gear and grabbed Carmen’s shoulder, guiding her to the elevator. She almost immediately felt uncomfortable. “Hi.” No response. The elevator ticked down, level after level, including going beyond the prison sector (which made Carmen’s heart rate pick up- she was not going to jail this was NOT a Scared Straight thing) and eventually stopped on the floor below.

Carmen stepped out of the elevator, looking thoroughly nervous. Just from observations, she could tell she was the shortest, youngest, and most ordinary person in the room. All these people were genuine teenagers. Oh boy! And they were all looking at her. She gave a cheery little wave, flashing a braces-filled smile, and tried to mosey on over to the couch, avoiding attention from the Director. Maybe he’d think she was there the whole time?

[Blizz]

______________________________________________________________

Crosspoint, Hope, Overclock, Workshop, Gray Man, Memento, two more whose names she didn't catch...and Jane.

They all definitely seemed decent to be around, except for Gray Man- Will- who they needed earpieces to even be around. Jane felt out of her element to say the least, but she got this far, so she told herself not to be such a damn shut-in. Once upon a time, she used to have very decent social skills, about as much as anyone used to being around people could expect to have. Jane hasn't had much normal conversation in a safe setting since the Psychos rolled through, though. She was thinking about what to say to these people, they were supposed to be her teammates for the foreseeable future, so they needed to get along and not kill each other. On some level, she very much wanted to get back to some sense of normalcy, but Jane never pictured it would mean being a hero instead of just a girl with two flesh-and-bone arms and no passenger. This was ultimately a whole new world for her.

Still, that’s not the worst that’s happened to Jane yet.

Something was on her mind that she didn’t get to ask last time she and the Director interacted. So- uh. Hm. I guess this is everyone, huh? In that case- I was wondering. Us? I mean- There’s plenty of kids around here who got their acts together better than some of us do.” She didn’t say it out loud, but she knew about the Shipyard Tinker. And that wasn’t even including Gray Man just existing. ”What- what made you wanna pick us in particular? Why us?” Jane asked. The others were probably thinking the same thing, or maybe they knew something she didn’t.

Jane wouldn’t be the most legally above-board person here. The PRT had absolutely no way of finding out anything about her. No identification on a database, not even a birth certificate, until they met her and found she was a tinker who sold small pieces of haphazardly-made tinkertech to villains with pocket change to spare. With the amount of material she had that consisted of rusted up junk, she couldn’t exactly make a doomsday weapon, but more than one villain on the street had a piece of machinery to use in their toolboxes that was made by her.

Jane didn’t want to admit that, though.

”Or were we just- did we just get picked first?”

[Duoya]

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:05 PM.
Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

The introduction seemed to go well enough - thank god, because Will's heart was still pounding from the sudden arrival of Alliyah and that confetti explosion. Will wasn't ashamed of being a coward, but the usual 'hero' type often had a problem with that kind of thing.

Or at least they did in the movies. Will had never really interacted with a Hero before, more so because he didn't care for capes rather than a lack of opportunities. But relying on movies only steered him wrong a few dozen times in the past - no sense stopping now...

Will quickly snapped back to attention when Andy started talking to him again, seeming to start up their conversation from before the introductions had started. He didn't bother to reintroduce himself to Alliyah either, a fact that nearly made Will smirk.

Perfect ice breaker right there. 'Oh hey there Alliyah, I don't think you've met my friend Andy yet! We were going shoping later, want in?' Boom. Friend #3, easy.

When Will realized the pause in the conversation, he was about to confirm the lunch invitation - the easiest way to get animals to like you was by feeding them, same was probably true people. But before he could, Andy started speaking to Fukuda.

"Okay, did I say anything wrong? Most of my social interaction was between people I grew up with or are older than me or are younger than me. So I really don't know if I am failing at talking to people right now."

Yeesh, the kid wasn't lying. Probably would have been eaten alive if he went to the same school Will did.

Not that Will was complaining. Plenty to glean from that response.

Andy probably didn't have any friends his age, and asking Fukuda rather than just Will meant he had a bit of obedience to authority. Oh, and the fact that he changed his hair color meant he was probably a Changer of some kind. Did everyone here wantonly flaunt their powers? Confetti bombs, portals, on-the-fly hair dye.

Well, Will wasn't really exempt from that jab at the team. Hell, he mastered one of them on accident already, so he was probably the worst of the bunch...

"On second thought, forget lunch and forget what I said if you want to forget - Let's just be friends."

"Sure thing - I could honestly use some friends right about now."

A grin there with a little bit of tooth. Relax your shoulders. Lean back, show comfort in the situation.

Well, that was easier than expected. Already got one of these guys, which was the biggest blessing that Will could have hoped for. Making friends gets exponentially easier the more friends you already have - one or two more, and the others will have to ignore the whole 'I can master you on accident' thing.

Right?

Right. Cause that was definitely how it worked, dipshit.

"So, are we waiting for anyone? Do we have an initial assignment? Is Overclock our squad leader?"

There was no visible change in Will's posture, but his self-deprecation immediately veered into abject terror. He hadn't even entertained the idea of an 'intial assignment' - was that how these things went?! Would they be flung out on a mission on their first day? God it would be hard to get respect if everyone here was throwing fireballs and shit while Will cowered behind a dump-

"...Currently, no. Today will mostly be briefing, getting to know each other, and become familiar with your Headquarters down here. At most, if we're good on time, there'll be some nighttime patrols to get you all started. As for a leader..."

The tension released as suddenly as it appeared. Thank god - nighttime patrols weren't too intimidating of a gateway into this hero thing. If that nice costume lady took his design into account and didn't flair it up for the PR team, he doubted that anyone would even think of him as a Hero. Just a motorcyclist that was walking home...

Not the best disguise, but at least it wasn't a skin-tight jumpsuit or something.

Will only paid the barest attention to the whole 'leader' debate. A part of him liked the idea of being in charge - he was the head of the Drama club at school, and the attention a position of leadership gave you was nice. But being the leader of a hero team was probably the biggest target you could possibly draw on yourself.

"If we all get a vote on that whole leadership thing, I'm gonna need a dartboard and some name tags."

Mock realization quickly flashed across the teen's face.

"ooh, or one of those big spinners with all of our pictures."

Will quickly mimed spinning some gameshow wheel, making a clicking sound as he did so. Eventually, he got tired of his bit and leaned back into his seat.

Will was just here to do his time, not to be the captain of the 'Beat up criminals or you're going to jail' team. He couldn't care less who got the position, and would probably use his vote to gain favor with anyone that didn't like him by the time that rolled around.

Soon the introductions started up again, much to Will's relief. Jane seemed interesting, to say the least. Or rather, she seemed more grounded than the others, which was a bit of a surprise considering the robo arm. He didn't know the first thing about Tinkers so he didn't know if making power armor was really cool - if he went off his frame of reference though, making a mech out of garbage was a lot better than being able to lie to people.

Will kind of hoped that they would give her dinner though. She didn't really look like she was getting enough to eat at home... Well, if she has a home. For all Will knew, she was a runaway - that would really ease up on the whole 'get guardian permission' part of the ward program.

Soon though, the elevator dinged once more. Those stragglers that Fukuda had talked about must have shown up finally.

If he had known it was so laissez-faire, Will probably wouldn't have been in such a rush to get here...

The new guy was, like the others, on the older end of teen. Tall, muscular, more casual than some of the others.

“Nice digs, Team, Director. Sorry I’m late, had some trouble with the family. Mind sliding me a pair, boss,”

The guy was flamboyant to the extreme, his colorful clothes and white hair catching most of the attention in the room. But what Will noticed (and was horrified by) was how this guy carried himself. Confident stride, colorful clothes, muscular build, actual introduction - it could only mean one thing.

“I’m Caiden McKay by the by, I’ll be Crosspoint, in costume, but Caiden is fine otherwise. I hope we can get along.”

This guy wasn't a loser! Shit!

Wait, was it bad? Most of the jocks at school were pretty cool - hell, Greg was a running back, and he was one of Will's bes-

Greg

It was incredible how fast you can push down those emotions when they come. One instant, Will felt like he got doused in ice water, and a few breaths later, he was back to normal.

Ignore it. Don't think about him. Everything is fine.

False alarm on the Caiden situation. Must have just been worried since all the jocks in teen dramas are usually douches - it's not like that in real life. Will's annoying smirk quickly returned to his face.

Right as he regained his bearing, another Ward member showed- oh jeez, this one was a baby huh? The girl that came in was absolutely tiny, to the point that Will was firmly knocked out of his delusion that he was on the younger side of the Wards. She at least seemed friendly, if a bit embarrassed that she was the last to arrive.

Will refrained from talking to her just yet - Caiden had grabbed some earpieces already, but this new girl was still vulnerable. Considering how uncomfortable it felt when Will's master effect broke, he decided silently returning her wave was the safest option.

Jane started speaking up again, shocking Will somewhat. He had pegged her for a shy kid.

"So- uh. Hm. I guess this is everyone, huh? In that case- I was wondering. Us? I mean- There’s plenty of kids around here who got their acts together better than some of us do. What- what made you wanna pick us in particular? Why us?"

Will paused slightly at this. He had assumed that was the entire point - it'd be a lot easier to get a cape brat to join your experimental team if you could blackmail them, or absolve them of their crimes. Why go for a nice team that might do what you say, when you can go for a naughty one that you could force to do what you want?

”Or were we just- did we just get picked first?”

Will opened his mouth, ready to deliver a snarky response to Jane's inquiry. Maybe something like 'No, I'm sure he picked us after carefully considering who he could blackmail.' Or maybe 'Oh, we're just the ones he managed to nab before recess was over'. It was hard to guess, since Will usually started speaking before he sorted out whatever he was going to say.

But he didn't this time. He tripped up slightly before throwing out a casual remark.

"M-my bet's that our guardians are the only ones that were willing to sign off on it. 'Send your kid to fight crime' is a pretty hard sell, after all."

Will passed off the stumble as a cough before regaining his relaxed pose, and he did his best to glance at Fukuda without being noticed. Will had simply assumed that everyone here was like him. Forced to be here. That the Wards used those loopholes in parahuman law that the Guardians loved to take advantage of, scooped some delinquents up before they became some hardened spandex-wearing supervillain. After all, what kind of psychopath would want to risk their life fighting superhumans in a dumb costume?

But that was the thing - these guys could totally be that kind of psychopath. For all Will knew, every single one of them volunteered for this, parents either bribed or deluded into thinking this was what was best for them.

Telling them that he had been pressganged into the Ward program would just be revealing his hand to the others. Fukuda had already done a fine job doing that for Will, so he couldn't risk telling them anything else that would turn them off more. Losing any more clout with these kids wasn't an option. Not with how some of them looked at him already.

Will could wait it out. If he was lucky, he'd find out which of these guys were the crazies, and avoid stepping on any toes.

[Letter Bee]

"Hello!" Andrew said as he waved hi to Carmen, noticing that he was no longer the youngest member of the group now. "What's your name? Mine's Andy!"

Do not neglect people. Do not let them feel left out. The fact that you were even considering it just because Wilbur is so damn cute is a black mark on your character, Andrew Bennett. Speaking of Will... Andrew then turned back to answer him and Scraprig and dropped the bombshell, "I volunteered. I'm an orphan living in the orphanage near the docks and I wanted a new home - Aka this place's dorms - and money. I know it's too late to get a family now that I'm 14, but I presume that I can get a bit of financial independence."

He then smiled at everyone and said, unironically, "And as Anime and TV Shows say, there is a high chance that you will be my new family. So take care of me."

Glancing at Caiden/Crosspoint, Andrew tried to measure the tall youth's personal hope, even as he pondered changing his hair to a silvery shade right now; he had been planning to do so when he started patrolling, but he was guessing that if he did this right, he could make it look like he was emulating his 'Senpai' by doing so... Or offend the guy beyond measure. After some thought, the boy decided not to do it. Instead, he said, "Anyway, if we're voting for a leader, I vote Overclock!"

He then glanced at Fukuda, knowing even at his current state of mind that the latter was cringing at his behavior because he was socially awkward and probably sounded like a nutjob. The boy at least hoped that he sounded wholesome and enthusiastic, not... Something which would turn off everyone.

It's not as if his thoughts about Wilbur weren't deserving of condemnation. Not because he liked another boy but because he was having these thoughts about someone he wasn't sure was going to like him back or even thought of other boys like... That. Actually, even if Wilbur did like other boys, he might not like him for some reason or other, like his social awkwardness, his oversharing (if he was oversharing) or just because he didn't like how Andrew looked.

Never did it occur to him that it was because he volunteered to be a 'Hero' in the first place or because Wilbur found him talking about them being his potential family cringe-worthy. Glancing at Wilbur and his expression for a moment, the boy then turned to the Director, "By the way, what's the pay? I haven't bought my own clothes since ever!"

A signal that he still regarded the shopping trip with Wilbur and the others as 'on' and wanted it to be such...

[Riegal]

Memento

---

Morie simply shrugged and gave a small apologetic smile to the director as he did what he could to salvage her... brief introduction.
The girl blinked when Beverly asked for more details on her power, in such a kind and genuine way that Morie couldn't help but smile. "...Sure," she responded, giving a little 'hmm' as she took a second to consider how best to explain.
She was given some extra time to think since the suspected Master, Gray Man, jumped in for his own introduction--real name Will. He had noticed Morie's glances, evidently, seeing as he'd winked at her... he spoke easily to the group, with the same flair of confidence carried over from the way he had been seated next to the director. Morie's faint smile from her interaction with Beverly faded some, as she pieced together more info on his ability through the introduction--to some degree he could influence what others believed through his spoken word.
Morie began to feel sick, a slow hand moving up to clutch her hoodie at her chest. Will didn't seem to have any bad intentions--seemed nice enough, but... past experience meant that made things even worse for the girl.
Gray Man scared her. Morie fought with her own thoughts to try and calm herself, but breathing continued to get more difficult. With every passing second, despite everyone in the room, she felt more alone--

"So, seems we've got a... I checked this in the dictionary, ramboctious fellowship of potential heroes? If so, welcome; we're glad to have a dedicated healer on our side! Also, if you want, we can go clothes-shopping as well, but on a different day than my outing with Will!"

Morie felt her distant gaze begin to refocus as she realized she was being spoken to, finding herself staring at Andy's extended hand. Then there was the confusion as his words registered... was the kid implying her clothes were ugly? Or was... he asking her out on a date?! She glanced up quickly, now panicked in a different way. "I--" she began, stopping herself quickly as she forced herself to really examine what had been said--the situation she had been zoning out of.
No, he was just... a bit awkward, but also very friendly--at least as far as Morie could tell thus far. The girl finally accepted the handshake, clearing her throat a bit. "I'm... I think I'm good on clothes, but... thanks," she said with a bit of a strained smile.
Next up was the girl with the metal arm, introducing herself as Jane. A tinker focused on things controlled by a person, that was cool!... Morie smiled at the morbid joke, and Beverly's response to it.
Ah, right! Beverly.
Morie took another second to collect her thoughts, before turning her head towards the girl next to her. "My healing--m-mind if I give your arm a small scratch?..." she asked. When Beverly agreed, Morie shifted her body to face the taller girl better, gingerly holding Beverly's right forearm with her right hand. With her left, she scratched her nail across Bev's skin, not hard enough to draw blood or anything, but enough to leave a red discoloration.
Still holding her arm, and making sure the same spot of her own forearm was in Beverly's sight, Morie used her ability. A moment later, the redness faded away from Beverly's skin and showed up in the same spot on Morie's arm.
She let go, glancing up at the girl with her faint smile. "I guess I don't really heal--m-more like I move the injury over to myself." Morie paused, smile fading a bit as she mulled over how much more she should say, giving a small sigh as she felt her cheeks beginning to warm. "It's a bit morbid, but it's not q-quite as limited as it seems, because I can make duplicates of myself. They take t-time to create, but I can use them to 'heal' a bunch of wounds or illnesses until... the body can't take on any more and dies, or w-whatever. A-and then I can absorb those duplicates to give myself, um, basic Brute stuff... i-it's a kind of organic matter manipulation at its core, basically..."
She... was talking too much. Morie gave a little shrug, lowering her arm, once again being distracted by a new arrival.
...Now this guy was extroverted. Similar to Will, he showed no difficulty speaking to the group as he told them both his Cape name and his real name. Whereas Will did seem to care to some extent, this Caiden seemed to just... not. Well, with what this team was supposed to be doing soon enough, confidence wasn't a bad trait to have. Morie just had a feeling Caiden would be a little overwhelming for her to interact with early on.
The next arrival was the first to actually take Morie by surprise--a girl, pretty clearly the youngest of the group. She gave a small wave, but said nothing, making her way over to the couch to sit.
Morie blinked as she watched the girl, before glancing to Beverly and giving her a small nudge on the arm with her elbow to get her attention. She motioned towards the seated younger girl with a subtle nod of her head to show her intention, and moved to rejoin the group as Jane brought up a good but probably difficult question for the director. Hands in her pockets, Morie sat a few feet next to the newest arrival.
"Hey," she said softly, glancing between her and Bev, wanting the taller girl to also hear her introduce her real name. "My name's Morie." She wore a faint and warm smile, leaving it at that for now. She didn't want to make the girl feel pressured to talk to her or anything, but if she wanted to give her own name, it was clear Morie was happy to hear it.
Morie listened to the group chatter. On the topic of a leader, Morie was unconcerned. The best candidates would naturally reveal themselves in short time--give it a couple days of being together at most, and voting on a group lead would be easy enough.
The other topic was Jane's question, which had Morie's attention more. For her own part, it wasn't too hard to figure out why she had been picked. For one, she had just... approached the PRT to ask if she could help (similar to Andy, from the sounds of it). Then, considering her ability to heal--well, that could probably get her on just about any Cape team on the planet, regardless of anything else about her. And of course, her foster family was incredibly supportive of her desire to be a hero, so permission had been no issue. Not a stretch to understand she had been placed into this Wards initiative.
Hearing about the reasons for all the others, though, was something that interested the girl greatly. It was an opportunity to learn a lot about them, as evidenced by Andy's response.

[Lewascan2]

Sean Evens/Overclock

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:02 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

Stage 3 Escalation Energy Pool: 1 hours, 36 minutes, 0 seconds

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---

The other Wards were continuing to filter in, and Sean, despite currently being partially ramped up, had his mind running so fast managing all the new inputs that he felt a little overwhelmed in spite of it all.

Workshop's response was kind enough, but the small glower in her eyes only got confusion from him. Honestly, Sean wasn't sure what she was upset about. His caution? Well, maybe he was being a tad too obvious about it, but exactly how could she blame him? He wasn't the one making fuck-off-unstable wild card technology, so he had a right to be wary. The formality? It wasn't like he'd given her his, so why wouldn't he refer to her as anything other than her alter-ego, especially in a setting where secret identities might as well not exist. In the end, he only vocalized an, "Mmmm," in response and left it at that. They weren't exactly friends, and he didn't need his attention being pulled even more directions, especially given how much of it was focused on keeping an eye on her... gadget.

A younger boy in a rather dapper getup was next to arrive, and Sean could only raise a single brow at the finger-guns and greeting being shot his way. Given his current mood, he wasn't exactly in the best headspace to appreciate the overly familiar address; rather, he'd always been a bit tweaked by nicknames. Maybe it was the small aspect of outside definition, but he'd never appreciated being called by any name he'd not chosen for himself. And the comment on his jacket...? He snorted lightly. "It's nothing special. Bog standard stuff. No brand. I honestly couldn't tell you when or where I got it; I've had it too long." And honestly, it's not like he really wore a costume per-say; rather he was known in part as a hero for how down to earth his whole shtick generally was. Aside from a domino mask slipped out of his pockets when he needed to slow down to a visual level, he'd had no need for an actual disguise. Sean's other brow rose to join the first in the face of the normally fairly amiable Director's rather... chilly response to the newcomer as well. Maybe it was the hints of irreverent smart-assery Sean could already sense in undertones.

But his attention didn't stay there for long in the face of the absolute explosion of words that assaulted him from yet another newcomer, a younger boy, seemingly around the same age as the first. Though Sean wouldn't have quite bet on it; he'd never been the best at determining ages. To be honest, it was all he could do at the present moment to simply smile lightly and nod in the face of the... frankly, fanboy until said boy turned his attention elsewhere. Sure, having been a hero for two years, Sean wasn't unfamiliar with praise, but he wasn't exactly overly comfortable with it either, especially when it was this... much. Under normal circumstances too, he could usually make up an excuse to dart away at top speed, but right now, no such luck was with him. For once, he wasn't in a position to put distance between himself and admiration... to run away from the problem.

And that name... Hope? Well, it wasn't like Sean was against the concept of bringing light to the darkness, but that kind of name carried a weight to it, a responsibility. To take such a name carelessly in this world was the height of arrogance or naivety. Worse than that, such a name was an unspoken promise to the people you were going to protect, a covenant that would be all too easy to break. That was the sort of name that demanded expectations be heaped upon it.

This kid -Andrew- didn't know just what kind of fucking anthill he'd kicked over by claiming that title. That was practically catnip to villains looking to humiliate a do-gooder, practically taunting them.

Sean had never heard of him, and he'd kept tabs on the majority of the serious players in Redline these past two years. If this guy had been around for any significant amount of time, then he certainly wasn't making the kind of waves required to live up to the name he'd snatched. And if he hadn't been around long...? Well, that just sounded like thoughtless teenage arrogance to Sean. And sure, that might have sounded a bit rich coming from another teenager -if an older one, but Sean liked to hope he was more well-grounded than the average teen parahuman... or parahumans in general. He kept his own ambitions high, but ultimately realistic, expressed grand ideals but tempered them with the knowledge that change was never as simple as simply believing and wanting it. Shit happened. You couldn't save everyone, and to promise otherwise, to claim you could give more than you were actually able? That, quite simply, was to lie, to deceive the people with false hope, and such a thing wasn't fair to either side of the equation.

But he digressed.

The next to arrive had... honestly caught his eye in a way he wasn't initially expecting. A girl about his age in a bit of a frumpy getup with messy, pinned-back chin-length bangs that couldn't seem to quite decide if they were more brown or red. Either way, she was on a visual level... honestly somehow hitting right in his strike zone. She had a sort of effortless beauty, the kind that implied she didn't actually work for it, that it came naturally to her, which in combination with her clothes implied a certain level of modesty that he could appreciate. Vanity had never really appealed to Sean in girls, and between recovering from his Trigger, school, martial arts, work and his heroics, he'd never really found time or motivation to date. He wasn't the sort to use dating apps as some sort of naively hopeful quick-fix, and really, he was too busy before to even consider adding anything else to his plate.

This whole Wards thing... might actually be a solution to that, one he genuinely hadn't considered before, a silver lining to the bullshit. Now that he'd basically been forced to quit his prior job, he was no longer in an environment where his primary dating prospects were people he would have to gamble on trusting with his secret identity. And to be honest, that was kind of a sticking point for him. Maybe it was asking too much of the universe, but Sean was the type to prefer a romance to mostly... just happen naturally, not be a cheap thing sought out to fill an empty social hole or get a quick lay. He wanted something genuine, something with no secrets or -at least- not ones as big as him being a parahuman. Given how casual he was about it, anyone he got that close to would inevitably find out, and he didn't want to lie about that sort of thing to begin with, even by omission. He wanted to be open about his powers, be able to trust his secret with his partner. And before now... he'd never been in an environment where that would be implicitly universally the case. With that major primary hurdle out of the way? Well, suddenly, Sean was in a position he'd thought closed to him for a long while.

But that was getting way ahead of himself. He'd literally just met her for Pete's sake, and they hadn't even exchanged more than looks. Well, granted, she seemed to silently recognize him in some way, to which he simply nodded in recognition of her recognition, even if he couldn't guess what was going through her head. He didn't know anything about her other than the fact that she seemed similarly as unenthused with this as him... if her aloof standing off to the side was any clue, which, to be honest, was just another point in her favor. Maybe it was petty, but he was all for knowing he wasn't the only one not drinking the PRT kool aid. Before that though, he'd actually have to get her freaking name before he even thought of taking this line of consideration further.

How to do it though...

Well, he could always wait for it to be brought up naturally and piggyback off the offered info. If her disinterest was genuine, then he wasn't likely to earn any points with her for trying to drag her into an unfavorable social situation. The fact that she had pulled out her phone and an earphone and was now literally only half-listening to the proceedings seemed to reinforce this conclusion. Though... there were some inconsistencies... like the small smile that he'd likely not have noticed without his enhanced vision. Though, it was equally likely that was merely due to her enjoying a good song.

That line of thought was interrupted by the Director chiming in again about some apparent Tinkertech earbuds that were now getting passed around. While Sean wasn't exactly sure who this "Grey Man" was -whether it was one of his fellow Wards or some new member of the Guardians, the Master implications couldn't have been more blatant. Well, he hadn't been sure until the Director unceremoniously gestured at the dapperly dressed boy. Sean's stomach curdled in distinct discomfort at the idea of working with an obvious human Master, but none of that showed in his expression. Instead, given his current doubled speed, to an outside perspective, he merely opened and equipped his own earbuds a fair sight faster than the others, a small frown blooming on his mouth before smoothing away at high speed.

The implication that they would actually need such protection from their own supposed ally was not a good one. Either this "Grey Man's" power was involuntary, he had neither the will or morals to bother restraining it... or he was the sort to be actively conniving with it. And given the Director's unusually icy disposition towards the boy? Unfortunately, Sean was leaning towards the latter two.

Sliding the earbud case into his jacket's inner pocket, Sean watched with half an eye, as the frumpy girl caught the set tossed to her easily in both hands... while the trashy one scrambled but managed not to drop them as well.

The Director made a prompt for introductions... and a gesture for the frumpy loner girl to get with the program. Clearly, he wasn't enthused with her lack of showing even the most basic team cohesion. It was one thing to be of few words like Sean; it was another thing entirely to not even humor team unity by sitting at the table. In line with that mode of thought, Sean wasn't all too inclined to speak up first. Despite his power being the sort that might encourage a reckless "strike hard, strike first" approach, Sean instead was a more careful sort typically, especially when it came to the unknown. His power encouraged waiting, watching and carefully picking your moment. Sure, he could ramp up ahead of fights, but the energy waste was atrocious. Therefore, in life as in battle, he'd come to be a more reactionary sort, scouting out the unknown first before carefully choosing his course of action.

In short, he'd let the other Wards make the first move and then adjust his approach appropriately.

Unfortunately, Workshop seemed keen to take center stage, and as she called herself "Beverly" (a name Sean honestly couldn't recall), the device in her hands seemed to be making far more ominous noises... before going off-! Sean's Breaker state instantly hit stage two, and he jolted in his seat, almost standing up before his accelerated vision caught sight of what was spilling forth from the makeshift Tinker grenade.

Confetti?

Closing his eyes and allowing his Breaker state to slide back down to the first stage, Sean leaned back in his chair and struggled to calm his abruptly thundering heart, as the southern gal was swallowed up by a harmless mass of paper. The sudden crackling buzz of energy all too close to the Director shot both his heartrate and power level right back up again, as Sean stood abruptly in the face of a portal, prepared to lunge forward and pull the Director away from an intruder-

Only to cluck his tongue at the raggedy, afroed African-American girl stepping through the space gateway with an all too casual quip on her tongue for the ridiculously reckless stunt she'd just pulled. Sitting back down and scoffing lightly at her introduction as "Aaliyah", Sean really unfortunately couldn't help commenting dryly, "I know from personal experience that the Mover life can make things seem slow, but there are far too many ways teleporting into a highly-secure meeting between unmasked Parahumans could go terribly wrong for everyone involved." He ran one hand through his brown hair. "Honestly, it only takes one twitchy trigger-finger to get someone seriously hurt." Shaking his head, Sean bit his tongue to stop himself from pursuing that line of dialogue further, waving his hand with a sigh. "Never mind. Far be it from me stop you." From suffering the consequences of your own actions, he tactfully refrained from tacking on.

Honestly, realistically, he wasn't exactly in any actual position to tell the others what to do, so he'd have to count on the Director to do something about that misstep. As if on que, the Director did indeed make his own admonishment, nothing so specific as Sean's gripe but clearly stated and understandable. It was all too easy to get used to overusing one's powers for trivial things. On a certain level, that could subconsciously distance a Parahuman from the rest of humanity. Sean knew it well. even just being a hero at all created a vast separation between him and regular folk in his civilian life, discouraged connections for fear of being revealed. Given how much he hated the cold, for example, it was simply too mind-bogglingly convenient to run his power at first stage at all times while outside to knock the bite out of the wintery northern air. In most every other measure, however, he refrained from indulging casually; after all, it was all too easy to accidentally perform superhuman feats and not realize how it might appear from an outside perspective.

In other news, Frumpy Loner Girl had finally taken the Director's hint and come over to the table, seemingly also taking it upon herself to help Beverly out of her predicament. Sean blinked a bit at the apparent stutter in her voice and raised a brow outright at her introducing herself as "Memento", an obvious cape name. Why she hadn't returned the favor of using her actual name, Sean couldn't rightly fathom, however, especially given the whole glaring lack of masks thing they all had going on. Because, honestly, what was the point in concealing that detail at this juncture?

Shaking the ultimately minor gripe away for the moment, Sean raised another brow at her claim to be able to "heal". Now, Sean wasn't exactly a scientist, but he did have basic pattern recognition. "Healers", pure ones, weren't really a thing with Parahumans, not as far as he could ever recall hearing. Usually, that "healing" effect was a side-effect or twisted usage of their actual powers or just a supplementation to their primary suite. So, between her lack of elaboration and the Director's somewhat ominous commentary on the matter, Sean was inclined to gird his loins for what was shaping up to be an... interesting future reveal... in every Chinese proverb sense of the word.

The Director's heated expression and words dragged Sean's attention back to Grey Man (who had thus introduced himself as "Will") and Andrew, where the former seemed to be almost... off balance socially. Honestly, Will's rather show-boaty demeanor was already starting to grate at Sean, the unnecessary and curated dialogue setting the Breaker's teeth on edge. He'd worked in fast-food, dammit; he knew a feigned cordiality when he saw it, had been the user himself all too many times, in fact. Well, okay, to be fair, Andrew was also not giving his best showing, so between the two, they managed to flail at each-other socially in just the right manner to get along disturbingly well. Not that Sean was unhappy to see that Grey Man was actually getting some level of social outreach directed his way in these circumstances, but the complete lack of any manner of caution on Andrew's part -aside from apparently donning the earbuds without hesitation- was... unencouraging.

Sean barely managed to school his expression into one of mere displeasure, as Grey Man continued to ramble on. His expression briefly darkened when the boy made an absurd declaration of being a purveyor of illegal activity, before further elaborating that he'd just used his power... a power that hadn't been blocked by the nonexistent earbuds on Aaliyah. Sean's hands clenched into fists briefly in his lap, before he folded them onto the table all too calmly, lacing his fingers together lightly. Grey Man's power was obviously vocal-based, but he couldn't determine anything more about it at this juncture. The empty apologies that followed the act fell on deaf ears, as Sean closed his eyes and took a slow calming breath, restoring his composure.

Clearly, Grey Man had been recruited under circumstances similar to the bullshit the PRT tried and failed to pull on him. Either sign up and get with the program... or go to jail. In other words, Grey Man was most certainly not to be trusted at this juncture, not with such a clearly irreverent attitude towards using his powers on his own allies. The fact that he mostly failed was of no concern whatsoever, only that he even dared make the attempt at all. He was a blatant manipulator, one far less clever than he likely thought he was, and being effectively denied his power had apparently thrown him off his game enough to reveal his true colors. Now that Sean had seen them, he wouldn't be letting his guard down for a second.

Deliberately taking his mind off of what was now the second-most worrying member of the group -only led by Beverly "Time Stop Bubble" Workshop herself- was a challenge, but Sean found himself pursing his lips at the words of Andrew. The kid was a motor-mouth supreme was a blatant lack of social skills... and enough lack of subtlety to actually admit that out loud. Sean restrained a groan of embarrassment by proxy, his mind already conjuring the epic PR clusterfucks to come, as he briefly ran one hand down his face. The fact that Andrew had actually consulted the Director openly about his socialization skills -or lack thereof- and then went on to all but flagrantly ask out both Will and Memento simultaneously made Sean have to restrain a violent twitch of irritation. By that point, the frivolous hair color changing was honestly just the cherry on top, and the damned "dictionary" comment made him want to pull his own hair out.

Right, third most worrying member of the team officially located.

The Tinker with the cybernetic arm finally spoke up and introduced herself as "Jane". Her specialty... was interesting and apparently fairly broad, running the breadth of limbs like her arm to fucking mech suits... Though, she sounded a little oddly self-conscious about that. Maybe all her gear looked as Mad Max as her arm? In that case, Sean could see where she might be a bit tender about the aesthetics of her personal brand of technological bullshit. Aloud, he simply voiced with a grin, "Damn, nice. So, what I'm hearing here is that every little boy and girl's dream of following in Luke Skywalker's footsteps is finally in reach?" Lounging back in his chair, Sean chuckled. "Well, if Memento's healing doesn't work out, consider me signed the hell up. Mad Max limb is better than no limb, you know?" Something about Jane was honestly niggling at the back of his mind, like he'd seen that junky tech of hers out in the wild, come across some stuff vaguely similar in the hands of villains and other criminals, little supplements here and there that made more than one encounter more frustrating than it had any right to be. Originally, he'd assumed that tech came from Workshop's carelessness, but in hindsight... the "Mad Max" tech had always tended to be far more reliable in the end, less likely to backfire and defeat the enemy for him in a ridiculous manner.

Ultimately, Sean put those thoughts on the backburner, but given the circumstances...? Well, despite the assumedly extensive vetting process conducted by the PRT, he'd have to take things as they come and hope he was just worrying over nothing.

Shaking his head, Sean paid mind to the Director accepting Andrew's barrage of questions and answering them... honestly as smoothly as could be expected in this situation. The day's itinerary was finally laid out, and Sean nodded along approvingly; all of that sounded more than reasonable. To be honest, a group patrol at this stage was probably highly premature, but he refrained from voicing his opinion on the matter yet. Ultimately, the Director had the final say in such things... for better or worse.

Sean raised a brow in some measure of disbelief at Andrew's seeming immediate assumption that he'd take on a leadership slot. That sounded like way too much responsibility way too fast, especially for a gig he'd not even wanted to begin with. The Director, in turn, made some good points, but Sean ultimately nodded gratefully in response to the noncommittal answer given on the issue. He couldn't help a little chuff at Will's dry inquiry on a "dart board" or "spinner"; to be honest, there were worse ways to decide, and the randomization element would quell a large part of any jealousy that might be provoked. Sean smiled approvingly at the idea of a group "vote" of sorts on the matter of leadership. As an appreciator of core American ideals like the democratic process, he could more than approve of the idea of the team choosing their own head. Even...

"Why make it just one?" Sean shrugged with a familiar smile finally finding its way onto his face, the expression of a mediator, one he'd worn many times as a hero on the job. "Unless I miss my guess, it's not like any of us would have any real experience with being in command." Unfortunately, he didn't exactly consider his helping teach martial arts equivalent to the current matter, and openly advocating himself for such a position to begin with just left... some sort of sour taste in his mouth that he couldn't quite describe. "That's a lot more pressure and responsibility than people tend to give it credit for. In an ideal world, we could just make decisions as a united group, but if there's an insistence or need for a head, I think it would be much more reasonable to have two or three among us share the load, especially given our numbers."

The elevator opening again caught his attention, admitting a rather conspicuously alone -no officer escort in sight- blue-eyed older boy with a shock of white hair, obviously dyed this time for a change. The odds of a second Cape joining them that could also conveniently color-change their hair were long, so Sean had no reason to assume any different until proven otherwise. The newest newcomer was big, obviously athletic, taller than Sean even at a guesstimate, and it was easy to also assume he was of a similar age. The white-haired boy spoke with a sort of easy confidence when introducing himself as "Caiden", but... something about him was already setting Sean's teeth on edge.

It was nothing he could exactly openly put to words, but several things just seemed... off. The clearing of Caiden's throat to interrupt discussion and deliberately draw attention to himself even when simply walking over would have served well enough. The fact that his own addressal to the Director somehow managed to sound ruder than Grey Man's, despite the latter verbalizing himself more informally. There were a bunch of other little things, like the way he held himself, his clothes, his far more "friendly" presentation to the other Wards... Hmmm, perhaps that was it...? It was the way he was presenting himself. Under normal circumstances, Sean might not have twigged to anything being overtly off, but with Will making a show of himself and his own personal experience, Sean had more than enough immediate context to peg Caiden for another manipulator... one far more experienced and refined than someone that likely relied half on their power for things, which made Crosspoint, by contrast, far more threatening.

Shaking his head lightly, Sean tried to banish the spurt of perhaps irrational paranoia, but it couldn't seem to settle down, not fully. Ultimately, upon inner examination, he realized he didn't actually trust anyone here, not yet, not the way he needed to be able to. Before today, all of exactly no one had he ever willing told about his powers, so to suddenly be thrust into a situation where his secret identity was suddenly being spread to all and sundry amongst a bunch of teens that he couldn't rightly assume were devoid of a plant or spy despite even the PRT's resources? Amongst teens like Andrew, who seemed obliviously blunt enough to accidentally out any number of them?

In that situation, Sean could acknowledge that he'd held back from introducing himself for more than a reason as simple as wanting to read the room. At the end of the day, he didn't want to out himself any further than his face, and he could suddenly greatly understand Memento's position... if, indeed, that's what this was. Her apparent caution was one he now realized he shared. It was completely justified. So, now, the question is if he should show solidarity with that now... or wait to see if she'd revoke her stance to take on the one employed by the majority. Honestly, that was where Sean was leaning. Refusing to give out his real name would be a blatant refusal of solidarity and an obvious display of his mistrust, and further, the Director seemed like the kind of guy to not give a shit about his preferences and use his real name openly with the others regardless, completely nullifying the point.

Jane -the girl with the cyber arm- was speaking again... and asked a fairly relevant question. Why had the Director come after them. Coincidence? Power? Looking to add preexisting reputation and PR to the team through certain members? Hell, some members of this team were actively dangers to the others. Workshop and Grey Man were genuine threats for entirely different reasons, only one being hapless and the other a bad-faith actor enough to provoke specific safeguards. Wasn't this place supposed to be some sort of "safe space to train powers and avoid danger"? Well, granted, Sean considered that to be frank bullshit, considering how badly the PRT was outnumbered in Redline, but were they just unable to go the extra mile to at least give the presentation that their words were truthful? Were they that desperate for warm empowered bodies? Frankly, Sean was inclined to think the answer was honestly some mixture of all of the above, but maybe the Director had a different brutally pragmatic -or shockingly altruistic- answer in store for them...

Will's commentary on the matter reflected that assumed pragmatism, and glancing around at the ages arrayed before them, Sean had to agree, snorting wryly, "Seems about right. Just about everyone here seems to be on the older end of the spectrum. Obviously, most parents aren't stupid enough to pretend like we're actually going to be safe all the time, no matter what flavor Kool Aid the PRT is serving them, so the only ones that seem inclined to risk it for the big financial and support benefits are those with kids that are closer to flying the coop, the ones that can be reasonably expected to handle themselves." He crossed his arms and nodded with something of a half-smirk Will's way, leaning back in his chair. Regardless of his personal... issues with Masters, assuming the PRT wasn't a bunch of morons and had vetted Grey Man extra hard, then he was... moderately willing to give him the benefit of a doubt. Not enough to remove his earbuds in the younger boy's presence ever but... enough to give him a chance. It might have been different if the brat's power "slip-up" had been on Sean, himself, but for the time being, he'd give him enough leeway to watch his back and give credence to his concerns.

Then Andrew started talking again. The kid's admission that he was an orphan... explained some things. Though, even for an orphan, Sean had never seen anyone this clueless. A rather dark part of his mind suggested that it was this very behavior that had kept Andrew from being adopted to begin with, even at his age, but Sean shoved that brutal thought down. Sean barely kept his smile intact when the kid went on about some nonsense regarding anime of all things. Damn, this guy was really a mood killer, he couldn't help concluding. And further... the looks Will was shooting Andrew's way spelled nothing good for the future. Sean honestly wasn't sure how he was going to deal with this, having such a frankly gullible and grating teammate around, but then again, it wasn't like his old workplace had been all sunshine and roses. Shit happened, and some people were just going to piss you off. Being an adult was largely about being able to tolerate those annoyances and remain amiable and smiling in the face of it all, and if nothing else, Sean prided himself on his customer service.

Yeah... Yeah, that was it. He just had to treat the kid like an especially annoying coworker and only deal with him when necessary. Within that frame of mind, suddenly, Andrew became much more tolerable. It wasn't like he was going to have to deal with him 24/7, not even during Wards work hours. Surely, he could handle this much. To do anything less would be a disgrace on his reputation as a hero. Honestly, what even was he practicing martial arts for, if he couldn't stay disciplined and polite in the face of slightest amount of inconvenience? Self-control was the name of the game, and despite any appearances to the contrary, he had that in spades. His power demanded it.

In other news, it seemed Memento -who had apparently thankfully rejected Andrew's impulsive "date" request- had in turn been goaded somewhat into a demonstration of her powers... and of course Beverly was the only one reckless enough to actually let herself be injured to test them. Luckily, Memento had enough sense to make it a mere skin reddening, hardly an actual "scratch" by any definition. Her explanation that her ability was in reality injury transfer left Sean understandably distinctly worried, both about the obvious pain she'd have to endure to use it and about the potential psychological impact that would have long term. An ability that demanded self-sacrifice to use... sounded distinctly unhealthy by any account.

Her further elaboration that she could make clones of herself to murder for the sake of others did not fucking help soothe his worries. Sean barely managed to keep his expression merely concerned instead of outright aghast, as he vocalized what he felt were two very important questions. "Your power gives you some level of pain immunity, right?" he inquired of Memento. "Or, at least, you can transfer injuries directly from a target to a clone without using yourself as the middleman, right?" Frankly, if the answer to either of those questions was "no", then he was about to become a whole lot more fucking concerned. That didn't sound like a healer; that sounded like something... far more abusive.

The elevator opened yet again, partially interrupting his worried musings, as a startlingly small Latino girl with her hair pulled into a scrunchie shuffled in. Sean, for one, was genuinely taken aback by her age; she couldn't have been older than thirteen and way too young for this! Now, certainly Andrew and Will seemed young-ish, but they at least seemed to have already hit the typical teenage growth spurt. This girl most certainly had not. Given the display of comparative giants leveled against her, the girl's initially blatant nervousness was obvious. The fact that she was wearing braces in that suddenly plastered on smile of hers and the actual school uniform she was wearing under her puffy jacket also gave him something to work with. First of which was that an actual uniform implied she went to a private school, which generally implied both a home and schooling environment that "expected more" and were overly concerned with appearances. And braces implied that -at her apparent age- she was likely suffering some self-esteem issues. Parahuman powers didn't just happen, not without pressure... pressure he was already in a position to speculate about.

Now, Sean wondered perhaps if things had changed, but generally, braces tended to not be treated well by other kids, never mind teens. They typically got you slapped with stereotypes like "nerd" and mocking labels, private school or no. Bullying happened; attempts were made by little hormonal assholes even towards the likes of him. Sean had been lucky enough to be able to physically handle himself through any rowdier sorts and socially adept enough to maneuver through attempts to attack him other ways. He had been able to handle himself and been more than willing to throw away his teenage pride and get the school faculty and his parents involved, eventually putting a stop to continued attempts to screw with him. But not everyone was him.

The Latino girl found a seat without so much as a word to the rest of them, directly in contrast to her apparent friendliness. Rolling his jaw, Sean considered the approach to take here. He knew that older teenagers tended to be rather... intimidating to younger kids. He recalled as much. After all, he'd been their age at one time too. So, she maybe wasn't too enthused about all this when she could have been hanging out with friends her own age... Still, Sean knew younger kids tended to like being taken seriously to a certain degree, and girls did on average mature faster than boys.

Outwardly, he genuinely couldn't help an incredulous sigh at Andrew nominating him as a leader again, despite being clearly shot down by the Director... Only, Sean supposed, understanding the Director's implications would require some reading between the lines, which Andrew might be less than adept at... Shaking his head, Sean briefly pinched the bridge of his nose, before raising a single brow Andrew's way. "Look, we're not voting on anything anytime soon. And frankly..." He panned his gaze over the whole table, meeting eyes where able. "I would much prefer that sort of position only be awarded to me -or anyone else, for that matter- on the basis of merit. In case you haven't noticed..." He spread his arms and shrugged. "I'm a bit of a solo act in this city... or was till now. I can be as bright and shining a hero as the next guy, but that doesn't necessarily mean I know a damn thing about actually leading people, either charismatically or -more importantly, I'd say- intellectually." Setting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers again, he nodded, almost as if to himself.

"And besides which," he chuffed, "It seems in somewhat poor taste to immediately elect someone you don't even know the real name of, especially after all of you were so generous enough to offer yours already." Shaking his head, he shrugged and grinned. "Well, if nothing else, I can immediately remedy that little issue." And hopefully humanize himself enough to get Andrew to... maybe cool it with the fanboy routine. Certainly, he knew heroes could be idolized as much as any pop star, more-so even for fairly understandable reasons, but if he was going to spend extensive time with this group, it was better that they weren't looking at him like he was supposed to be Parahuman Jesus, even if he was objectively the strongest speedster Mover he'd ever heard of. Even if it was foolishly easy to fall into the trap of feeling invincible when he was sufficiently ramped up, it was much better in the long run for his team to know he did have limits, that he was as human as anyone else. People expecting miracles from him could honestly only end badly for everyone involved... especially if he allowed himself to be foolish enough to attempt to supply said miracles.

Nodding in resolution, Sean sat up a little straighter and leaned back in his slightly turned out chair. "Some of you may know of me for one reason or another, but it's not like I'm the only Parahuman in the world. For you out-of-towners that might be amongst us -and those of you who don't really keep up with the clown scene, I go by Overclock out there in the wild, as... several people have mentioned. That's my name, but I've never really gone for a costume in general. It's kinda been my 'brand' up till now, but I suppose it couldn't last forever..." He shrugged noncommittally, not letting show the discomfort thoughts about that particular impending change provoked. "Outside the domino mask, my name's Sean." He didn't bother with his last name. It was ultimately unimportant and an extra layer of security until someone decided to slip up. "I'm seventeen years old, and I suppose heroing is my high-octane "hobby". Though, I guess that's a bit of a frivolous word for it. I've been taking martial arts for long enough to be a black belt, and that definitely contributed heavily to my discipline as a hero, the kind that let me safely perform my work for the past two years without getting criminal charges lobbed my way or stepping on any toes... Well," he chuckled wryly, shaking his head, "not the ones that matter anyway." Quite firmly implying that the PRT didn't even factor into his consideration, not that anyone but the Director would grok onto that. "Then again, there was no Wards program back then to answer the call of, so now that there is..." He briefly spread his arms again. "Well, I am here."

In the meantime, Memento seemed to have decided to take a shine to the small girl of her own volition... and dragged Bev along for the ride. Rapping his fingers lightly on the table, Sean was a bit torn. On the one hand, he'd actually intended to reach out to the smaller girl himself, but he'd apparently lost his chance in the flow of introductions. Going over there now, where the girl was distancing herself from the group on a couch, would be probably a little overwhelming, having three teenagers suddenly up in her face and looming over her. Was there really an approach he could offer that differed from Workshop's enthusiasm or Memento's softness?

No, not really. Instead, all he did was shoot perhaps the first fully genuine smile he'd made since arriving in this glorified prison towards the Latino child. Whether she acknowledged it or not was hardly much his concern, so long as he was managing to project a moderately friendlier and more welcoming atmosphere from the main table. He'd keep half an ear on that conversation and chime in himself if an opening to bring things together presented itself... assuming the Director didn't just bull through like with Memento's hesitance.