[center][img]https://see.fontimg.com/api/renderfont4/L3L0n/eyJyIjoiZnMiLCJoIjo1MiwidyI6MTAwMCwiZnMiOjUyLCJmZ2MiOiIjMTg3OEUyIiwiYmdjIjoiI0ZGRkZGRiIsInQiOjF9/U2NyYXByaWc/reactive-anchor.png[/img]
[color=5081e1]______________________________________________________________[/color]

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 [i]hero team[/i] 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 [i]find[/i] 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 [i]free[/i] 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 [i]here?[/i] 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 [i]suit[/i] 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. 

[color=5081e1]”Uh. Hi.”[/color]

[/center]