[b]8:00 PM, Thursday.[/b] 

The helmet sharply clicked into place with a press and a twist, the cool metal feeling nice against her skin despite everything. She listened to the comforting hum of the cooling system before the screen snapped on in front of her, giving her a view of the dingy alleyway she'd slipped into to change. She moved her head from side to side, the world orienting itself nicely and the neck of the helmet moving fluidly. Despite everything, she felt good having an excuse to wear a mask again after four months of near constant research and development. It made her feel at home.
 
It was a cold comfort, though. Mostly, she felt like a wooden limb. Stiff, ineffectual, not in control of her own actions, and liable the catch fire and burn someone to death.
 
She slipped her shirt into her bag, pulling on a figure concealing grey sweater that honestly didn't have much hard work ahead of it. A long blue coat went on over that, and from one of its many pockets she pulled a pair of glove which she slipped on. She caught her reflection in the busted remains of a window, noting with satisfaction that none of her skin was visible under the ensemble. No one had any idea who Phone Freak was. If she played her cards right and danced like a good little wood puppet, it might stay that way.
 
She kicked the bag she'd carried her costume in under a garbage bin, buttoned her coat, and went on her way toward this meeting.