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Striding out in front of everyone and standing over a head taller than the taller people in the team, while they had costumes and she had a veritable tank with legs was an interesting feeling. Ever since she got her powers, Scraprig's mind had been full of ideas pertaining to things that were like this suit. Heavy, imposing machines where she was the computer running them. The arm she had built for herself fit that, considering it weighed at least 30 pounds on its own, but seeing the shock and surprise on the faces of her fellow Wards was almost as gratifying as putting on her costume. Bev's fainting gave her pause, but the Vice-Director and Gray Man had her covered. Everyone else's costumes were just as damn good-looking as the one she had under the several-ton coffin she was piloting right now. Hearing the explanations of everyone's powers, a few of them really stood out to her. Crosspoint had some kind of blaster power that gave him shaker-like control over a spot if he put enough swords in it, and V- what the hell did you even classify that as? [i]Striker?[/i]

In the times Jane spent at the library between scrounging for crumbs and building freakish tech, she logged a lot of hours on Parahuman forums looking into all manners of cape knowledge. Strikers made things happen by touching something. Based on what V said, she just [i]made things[/i] with no major stipulation. It was a weird kind of power, she heard about others doing the same thing where they produced objects- they really needed a 13th classification at this point- that had their own rules. If you specifically produced only guns, were you a Blaster? Whatever, she thought, it was weirdly complicated, and Jane didn't like weirdly complicated things. There was other shit to worry about. An attack on the museum wasn't good. Why there? She wasn't the most tactically intelligent person, but who attacks a place full of cape history unless they're just pissed? It didn't add up, but if they [i]were[/i] going to attack, then obviously someone had to be there to do something about it.

So, naturally, the kids got to do it.

[b][color=40d3ff]"Well, I got this thing-"[/color][/b] The radio-conveyed voice said as the machine's arms deliberately moved in a presenting gesture. [b][color=40d3ff]"It's big and heavy, takes some pretty big punches. Not much else it does, so- you know, just let me handle that? Pretty much a Brute cape when I get in this thing and it's built like a tank. It doesn't really do a lot more, unless you hide behind it so you don't get shot."[/color][/b] If nothing else, Jane was at least somewhat less squirrely inside her robot. Maybe it was the fact that she looked like she could punt Gaia across a football field like a sack of potatoes. One damn day...

[b][color=40d3ff]"So- the museum, huh? Who's gonna attack it? Are we all that's there aside from the security around the place? Is- Is anyone coming? Do we get backup?"[/color][/b] She sure as hell hoped so. Honestly, she hoped the Directors would answer all of the above. If it was anyone who turned everybody into arsonists again, that would've been a dealbreaker right then and there- it would've been just like those guys to do that- and she'd go right back to the junkyard. Overclock had experience, but he already looked like a total hardass. Not the most leader-like dude she's met. Not that she met many leader-like people, but impressions mattered. 

[b][color=40d3ff]"It's not just us...right?"[/color][/b]