[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/dcji47P.png[/img][/center]
[color=00aeef][b]Date/Time[/b][/color]: November 11th, 2022.
[color=00aeef][b]Location(s)[/b][/color]: Redline, en Route to Museum of Parahuman History
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As the Director's voice faded with the severed connection, the girl in a blue, faux-armored bodysuit fiddled with her gear one final time, checking the concealed buttons and committing the contents of her utility pouch to heart. [color=00aeef]"This scenario smells."[/color] Personally, Jen felt like that went without saying, but maybe some of her new "comrades" weren't quite so on the ball. Wasn't she generous then for coming out with it? Her voice came through her helmet with a slight electronic twinge to it from the filter, muddying the waters for those that might feel like getting cute about using that to trace her for some forsaken reason. [color=00aeef]"They don't even know what we're up against, and yet, they're so sure it's going to be a disaster? One that needs..."[/color] She briefly counted off on her fingers. [color=00aeef]"What is it now? [i]Thirteen parahumans[/i]?"[/color]

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[img]https://i.imgur.com/14o7xlB.png?1[/img]
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Her visored visage panned around the occupants of the transport she'd chosen, and with great difficulty, she stopped her eyes from lingering on the [i][b]fucking Mast[/b][/i]- Wilbur, she corrected herself. Or Faeble now. Whatever. As much as she'd personally have preferred not to be breathing the same oxygen as one of... [i]those[/i], she also knew her hatred stemmed solely from an ideological place of spite and... well, probably trauma. Sure, whatever. Her powers protected her from that shit nowadays, so it wasn't like she was... exactly afraid of him. Well, maybe she was a little, in that irrational little animal-hindbrain corner of her mind, unbeholden to reality.

The [i]point[/i] was! She chose this transport [i]precisely[/i] because she didn't trust the little shit. She didn't know everything about her allies' powers, didn't know if any of them had any sort of defense of their own, but if "Faeble" decided he felt cute enough to try something? She'd be there to put a stop to it. Surely, that was something a hero would do, protecting their teammates? She wasn't being paranoid. Definitely not. This was a completely sensible course of action!

Tapping her armored kneecaps as the transport rolled along, Jen's lips pursed unseen. The more she thought about it, the more she wasn't sure she wanted to "follow the lead" of anyone in a situation filled with so many unknowns. As if any of [i]these[/i] people would know better than her how her power was best utilized! The nerve! Regardless, as much as the urge to "ask for forgiveness rather than permission" was strong indeed, she held it at bay for the time being. She could be patient. She could wait. It wasn't like she was rearing to get into fisticuffs with villains for no good reason, after all. She could wait to hear how these lauded, so-called "Guardians" thought she was best used, before she considered going off the reservation. Surely, she was judging them too harshly, right? This could be an easy test of their competence.

Leaning back in her seat, she did her best to bleed some of the tension from her spine. [color=00aeef][i]'Stay, objective, girl. You're safe. Your power will save you. No matter how tits up this goes, you'll come out ahead in the end, just as always.'[/i][/color] Yeah... Yeah, this was... fine, right? She was just getting "first day jitters", as it were. That was all there was to it. She wasn't the one whose neck was on the line if this went as badly as everyone up top seemed to think it would. She just had to stay on target, do her part, and come out looking squeaky clean. Easy peasy.

Even so...

[color=00aeef]"Maybe, the Director didn't quite say so explicitly, but the unknown is often the most dangerous thing you can have to deal with,"[/color] Wattson continued with a somewhat more productive line of conversation. Backing out didn't seem to be an option in this little trial by fire, so they would just have to make do. [color=00aeef]"Anyway, any of you played Dungeons and Dragons? Or, I guess, any RPG game with class roles in it?"[/color] Spreading her arms, Wattson smiled unseen. [color=00aeef]"Just think of me as your party Rogue. If you let me, I'll do my best to ensure the path is clear before you dive in, scout things out and see about lessening the number of surprises we have to deal with. I can get in and out undetected. Better still, I can transmit pertinent information back to you in real-time."[/color] She tapped the side of her helmet, indicating the comms. [color=00aeef]"In general? I'm yer' gal for information gathering. That's what [i]I[/i] bring to the table..."[/color]

She trailed off leadingly. If they were going to make this work, best to get at least a lightning round of strategizing out of the way. She didn't have time to dive into the length and breadth of her power's capabilities... nor was she particularly inclined to share outside of necessity, but "party roles"? That was easier to digest. It gave everyone a place and structure within the unit, and more importantly, it gave this ragtag band at least the barest semblance of the lacking [i]organization[/i] that they desperately needed. Frankly, there were too many people involved in this for a bunch that didn't even know each-other, never mind that the Director had said outright that many were complete novices... some -like "V"- more obvious than others.

[color=00aeef]"Oh yeah, and in case it needed saying before we dive into the shitstorm, like this, you can call me Wattson."[/color]