[center][h1][color=ec008c]Ira Riese:[/color]
[color=dodgerblue]PRT Headquarters[/color][/h1][/center]

[color=brown][b]"Ladies and gentlemen, today we induct a new parahuman into the Wards program. I want you all to ensure that she feels welcome and taken care of. If you do not, I will not be happy."[/b][/color]

The director spoke of being kind, and Ira didn't hear a word of it. The adults stood, and Ira hesitantly followed their lead. Inkscape spoke a few words more than the others, but left just as Ira called out, just quite enough that the others couldn't hear or didn't listen. "What about my session?" But he was gone and no response was had. She frowned beneath the porcelain mask, suddenly removing it from her face.

Ira's body armor was just tight enough to annoy her, the straps wearing against her skin and her nerves. She was wearing a black tank top over the body armor covering her chest, and tight pants over the armor covering her lower joints. She reached behind her back and adjusted the armor's Velcro. She did it slowly to be quiet, but the sound was still abrasive at best. As Ira fixed her body armor, the other Wards introduced themselves to the new girl. She had a nice figure, and Ira quickly looked her up and down, blushing slightly. Ira's hair fell into her face, and she quickly moved it. She put her mask back into place on her face, and felt it adjust to the contours of her face just the tiniest bit.

[color=lightblue]"Glad to meet ya! You already know me as Sonar, but as long as we're in these walls, you can call me Collin."[/color]

Ira decided she wasn't going to bother introducing herself immediately for two reasons. One: Ira had failed to produce anything useful as a Tinker and hardly felt useful as a team member because of it. At this point she was basically a glorified civilian, and God she needed that therapy session. Two: She hadn't heard the girls name because she had been too lost in her own thoughts. Ira glanced at the group again, and sighed quietly. She moved around the table to avoid the ensemble of bodies and started heading towards the training room. Might as well get good at shooting the gun she was provided to make herself useful. As she walked through the hallways, she thought about her costume. [i][color=#ca89e1]"I probably need a cloak to cover my body. It can obscure my figure more to make me appear more threatening, not to mention harder to shoot. The mask is a nice touch, though it is a bit effeminate. It looks more like I'm crying mascara than blood,"[/color][/i] She giggled to herself slightly, oblivious to her surroundings as she walked.

Distracting herself like this helped keep her derangement in check, and avoid [i]that[/i] line of thinking. Namely that there was a new Ward with new powers to explore. Martyr's was interesting but at the same time her understanding of his power was at least a little bit flawed. She couldn't think of a way to improve it in the least, and it was wearing on her. Messiah was endlessly interesting, but just didn't have the words to make Ira understand. Plus she seemed to be always having her patience tested by the Oriental girl's endless questions. She hadn't been able to get Sonar alone to even start questioning him, and now she had to get the new girl to tell. . . Fuck. She had started thinking about it.

A bated breath escaped Ira's lips as she arrived at the training room. Her feet brought her to the range, and her hand moved up to her masks, before she thought better of it. If Ira was to be a superhero she needed to get used to shooting with it on. She pulled the gun out of the holster on her thigh, the piece feeling natural in her hands. Ira thumbed the release, and moved her hand to pull the magazine out. It was fully loaded, as expected, thought the bullets were rubber. She slid the magazine back into the modified m1911, and stared at it for a second. Ira had been told it wasn't the type of gun she was expected to carry, though the weight would help with the recoil. Its weight was almost comforting. [i]Almost.[/i] The shooting range was empty, which was rare. It wasn't as long lengthwise as most ranges, but it did have four different stations. The range automatically moved targets into place, and replaced the paper targets once they were spent.

Ira hit the button beside her left arm, and let the target move into place at 20 meters. She leveled the gun, and moved her feet into the position she had been taught to take. Left foot forward, and leaning into the gun to prepare herself for the recoil. She thumbed the hammer back, and fired her first shot.