[center][h1][color=ec008c]Ira Riese:[/color]
[color=dodgerblue]PRT Headquarters[/color][/h1][/center]
The shot echoed throughout the range, and Ira winced slightly before leveling her gun again. The recoil had been a bit more then she expected, but then again it always was. Ira eyed the target from afar, but was unable to see where she had hit. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, before she fired a second shot. Ira wasn't a marksmen, but she had been told she was a natural, though that was probably more for her self confidence than anything else.

[color=8882be][b]"Hey... um... how're you doing my friend?"[/b][/color]

Ira's turned her head sharply to the left, then right. [b][color=#ca89e1]”Decoy. . .”[/color][/b] She muttered, but realized quickly it didn't sound like him. She paused, putting her gun back into the holster, before seeing the drone out of the corner of her eye. She stumbled back, almost falling as she looked up at it. Her immediate reaction wasn't to reach for her gun, though it should have been. [b][color=#ca89e1]”What. . . Who is that? Are you the new Ward's drone?”[/color][/b]

Ira moved closer to the drone, though she didn't trust it. She glanced down at the gun on her thigh suddenly, decidedly not moving her hand to grab it. The drone was just [i]so[/i] intriguing, not a marvel of engineering, but. . . Almost like the snake in the Garden of Eden. An intrusion in the paradise that was the PRT headquarters. The headquarters wasn't quite perfect, but it was safe. She started as she realized that the voice had been distinctly male, and the new Ward was a female. Ira moved her hand to the butt of her gun, thinking better of her earlier decision, though she didn't draw it.

[@Banana]

[center][h1][color=#20B2AA]Zach Kozel:[/color]
[color=#7f5200]Waiter(ing) and Superhero(ing)[/color][/h1][/center]

[color=#ff545f][b]"You knew the job was temporary when you signed up. Frankly you're not the most friendly and-"[/b][/color]

[color=#00b200][b]"You don't understand. I need the money, I can barely keep a roof over my head as is and without this job. . ."[/b][/color]

[color=#ff545f][b]"I'm sorry kid, I really am. I hate doing this, but you gotta understand the position I'm in. I got three cooks to pay, not to mention the wait staff. I can't justify keeping you hired, even as a favor anymore."[/b][/color]

[color=00b200][b]"There's gotta be something I can do. Cut my hours, make me wash dishes, I don't care. I just really need the money right now, I'll even find another job first!"[/b][/color]

A long sigh escaped the lips of the older man sitting across from Zach.

[color=#ff545f][b]"Alright kid. I'm gonna cut your hours, but you'll still be a waiter. If you're friendly enough I'm sure you'll be able to get enough tips to cover the hours I'm cutting. I'll get back to you on your new schedule, but ya gotta take today off so I can set that up."[/b][/color]

Zach nodded eagerly, smiling suddenly. [color=00b200][b]"Thank you so much, sir."[/b][/color] He said, his hopes raised again. The older man waved him off, and Zach left the restaurant hopeful for the future. As he passed by a group of black youths, his hand went to his wallet, making sure it was still there. He let out a breath when he felt its familiar presence, and continued walking towards home. He didn't have his baton, as he wasn't expecting to be attacked. He could sleep though, and then when night came he could don his baton and take on the corrupted underbelly of the city.

A breeze rippled against Zach's shirt and he smiled again, avoid the sadness that would come later. He still needed to acquire a job, and had to print out a resume or two on top of that. He glanced down at his shadow, and frowned at how lanky he was. Beating the collective asses of every smaller gang he could hadn't helped his physique much so far. He was just hoping, above all, that he was making a name for himself; whatever that name may be.