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[b]Date/Time:[/b] [i]November 11th, 2022. 6:12 PM.[/i]

[b]Location(s):[/b] [i]Redline PRT Headquarters[/i]
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Fashionista watched, beaming with pride in both The Wards and her own work, as they strode back out clad in their new Cape-garb. They all just looked so [i]good[/i] in it! Even Carmen, who she could tell (somewhat unsurprisingly; the cost of sticking strictly to what the middle-schooler had laid out for her) wasn't fully appreciating hers. They could talk though; there was always room for improvement in anything, costumes included. 

Hearing all the kids heaping praise onto her, Rachel gave a joking roll of her eyes. [color=6ecff6]"Alright, alright; enough buttering me up for now. You all look great! And since [i]someone[/i] decided to give them a test run..."[/color] She casts a side glance to Caiden, more teasing than anything else. [color=6ecff6]"...I'll tell you upright, so you don't get ahead of yourselves. Yes, the costumes are [i]pretty[/i] darn tough, courtesy of me, but you're far from invincible. They can all turn a knife away or absorb most of the shock from a blunt object. Maybe even stop some low-caliber bullets....But don't test that."[/color] At that last sentence, she gains a serious edge to her tone, looking across the group to ensure it's understood. 

[color=6ecff6]"I'm afraid that they won't stop some of the things you may come up against, so remember to [i]be careful.[/i] I trust you all to be smart and stay out of excess danger. Are we clear?"[/color] You could practically feel the Mom energy in her closing words, sternly passing her gaze upon the children. She didn't want to suddenly seem mean or strict, but it was important that they understood at least this much. 

Satisfied, she turned her attention to the last arrival; the ironclad Jane, of course, with a powersuit that, admittedly, Rachel was [i]quite[/i] proud to have a hand in....However small it was. She couldn't stop the smile that crept over her even if she wanted to, watching their combined efforts bear the fruit of locomotion. Though...She didn't expect what happened next, that being Beverly's abrupt collapse. 

Blinking away her stunned condition, the Vice Director gave Wilbur the hand he needed...Though even with his help, it was a struggle. Fashionista knew Bev's kit would complicate matters if it came to extraction with her extra baggage, but it wasn't [i]just[/i] that. Heaving the girl up, she could feel the unbelievable tension in her muscles, almost as stiff as boards. No amount of simple stress would cause this. Had she not slept well the past night? Or...Was it something more?

Letting the concern slip to the side for the time being, Workshop was back on her feet, her dazed eyes flittering open as she found her footing once more. [color=6ecff6]"Oh! Easy now, Bev. You had a bit of a spill....You feeling alright?"[/color] The teen managed to give a nod, slowly straightening herself up once more. With a sigh of relief, Rachel slowly relinquished her grasp of her, allowing her to stand on her own. 

With everyone settled once more, Fashionista looked upon the group with a small smile. [color=6ecff6]"Okay! There's one other major area I need to show to our prospective Tinkers, so in the meantime, I think [i]someone[/i] owes you all an explanation..."[/color] Beckoning The Wards once more, she rounds her way out of the Changing Room to confront the Director once more. [hr][hr]
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[b]Date/Time:[/b] [i]November 11th, 2022. 6:12 PM.[/i]

[b]Location(s):[/b] [i]Redline PRT Headquarters[/i]
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[color=fff79a]'Fuck. Me.'[/color]

Those two words went through the Director's head as he hung up with the Guardians. Without time to spare, he was already jumping to the next big hurdle...Paperwork. Virtual paperwork, that is. Written copies could be handled by some desk jockeys, but since he was the one privy to the oh-so-gracious foresight from the Think Tank, he could at least prep some of the necessities for what was to come. Damage assessments for both the museum and mayor's abode (as, no doubt, damage would be dealt somehow....), reparations for said damages, and more. The miserable monotony that is impermeably attached to his work. Still, the earlier it was handled, the more time he'd have to handle these brats and, if he was lucky, teach them something useful before they're shoved out into a burning hellscape. 

He found his work interrupted by a voice; female, but not the one he'd anticipated. Whirling around in his seat and casually sliding the datapad away, he found himself face-to-face with...Memento. Huh. The barest notion of surprise, the slightest arch of a brow, was present seeing this. [color=fff79a]'Just about the last one of them I'd expect to come to me with something.'[/color] He thought to himself, as curious as he was annoyed; which is to say, to both, not very much. 

Yeah, her question left something to be desired. With a sigh, he looked Morie in the eyes, locking onto them. [color=fff79a]"Morgan. You're a smart kid, so I don't think you need me to answer that question."[/color] He left her question of 'danger' at that, but chose to elaborate some more on her request of a clone. [color=fff79a]"As for a copy...Simple enough. We'll have Rachel stop by with your costume and get you suited up before you head out. But for the time being, you should..."[/color]

He found himself cut off, as Fukuda stared past Morie to see the gaze of Rachel, with the entourage of Cape-clad (thank God not literally, for the most part; capes are a huge pain in the ass) children following behind. A small groan escaped from him, only audible to Morie. [color=fff79a]"...Yeah, yeah, I'll handle it."[/color] The Director said, casually waving off Rachel as she couldn't help but roll her eyes. The Vice Director gave a soft smile to Morie before turning her attention to the Tinkers in the room, Rachel and Beverly. [color=6ecff6]"Since that's the case...When Fukuda's done giving the laydown, follow me; I'll show off the...Um...."[/color] Thinking on it for a bit, she abruptly decided on a new name for the room in question, divorcing it from the name of one of their members. [color=6ecff6]"....The Proving Grounds. Yep."[/color]

For most, the exchange near the end would've felt awkward, but Rachel made even that feel natural and charming, waving off the gaggle of teens before heading her way through a new doorway, with a staircase that seemed to head further down....This, of course, only left Director Fukuda behind to explain to them [i]exactly[/i] what they were getting into. Great.

[color=fff79a]"I'll be frank. With some heads-up I've received, we've become aware of an attack on both the Museum of Parahuman History further downtown, as well as another location I'll be leaving undisclosed. Most of The Guardians are preparing to handle the other incident, with a few who'll be tagging along for your endeavor as well. Truth be told, we don't know who - or [i]what[/i] - will be the source of the attack. With any luck, something you all can manage...."[/color]

He looked between them all, gazes of fear, anticipation, anxiety, and even confidence; a peculiar mix of emotions. But he still wasn't done, of course. [color=fff79a]"....Now, I won't sugarcoat this. Most villains, even in Redline, are above killing heroes; they know the kind of retribution it'd call down on them. You kids are no exception....But don't let your guard down. They'll still beat you to a pulp if you get in the way. Some more than others. You'll need to watch each other's backs out there, and play things smart. You've got..."[/color] Fukuda casually checks his wristwatch, looking at the time. [color=fff79a]"...A bit more than half an hour. Make it count; explain the ins and outs of your tricks to each other, figure out what each of you are -and most importantly, [i]aren't[/i]- capable of, and think up workarounds. And as for you two?"[/color] His gaze turned to Jane and Bev, the smallest smirk playing on his face. 

[color=fff79a]"You two've got last-minute work to do."[/color]

With that, feeling satisfied in his explanation, the Director went right back to work; paperwork wouldn't handle itself. If they needed to ask him something, he'd answer, but hopefully by now they'd pick up what he was putting down. Sooner or later tonight...It'd all be on them. They have to bring their A-Game, whatever that may qualify as.