12It's been an... interesting day in Detroit. Omen's first public outing went very well- for her. She made an extremely positive public image on her foray, possibly due to being seen in direct contrast to Adonis, who had caused a bit of a traffic issue and one serious injury to a teen motorist. In all the mess, a minor scuffle by the poletown auto plant between NewPurp gang members and an ... ... unknown cape went uninvestigated. Things quieted down later, with Red Glare assisting with firefighting efforts later in the afternoon. And now it is evening at the Station. 12Camila has been given a moderate amount of freedom, in addition to her eighteenth floor apartment- she can take supervised visits down to the cafeteria and gym, as well as the other amenities such as they are. This place is oppressive. These people are assholes, and they keep trying to be nice. What's wrong with them? She knows it's one of those things she can't do too often, but she heads for the nearest window that isn't directly observed by a video camera. It's summer [stated in PM] and she bundles up a bit of scrap cloth. She dons her mask, and then transfers skin from her arms and hands onto the cloth, sloughing into a skintight covering. She drops it. || 12Of course, they can't check everywhere- discreet patches of skin cling to the undersides of tables where a knee had brushed them, the backs of chairs and one toilet stall. But they've kept a pretty good eye on her, until now. The windows of this floor originally hadn't even opened, being unutilized in the train station, but in the renovations more modern ones were installed. Energy efficient, ... ... and openable to the late summer. Above, an air conditioner comes on softly in response to the change. The dropped item passes through layers of air, temperature, pressure, a patch of something wet as it tumbles to finally come to rest in a dark area of the flat station roof overlooking 15th street. Camila teleports, disappearing from the 18th floor and emerging from the wad of skin, the flesh tearing as she emerges in a flash. One hand on her bag, the other on the cloth, she moves on. Tatters hang from her as she moves furtively across the rooftop. Reaching the edge, she heads to the edge, looking over, to see if the alley is clear.|| 12The station is huge, but over here only lightly guarded, especially away from the well lit Lacombe entrance. If she climbs up a little, she can get right up to a security camera- fortunately, facing away from her, towards the ground below. It should be pretty easy to slip between them, especially in the dark. Her skin has already healed where she gave up skin to apply it to the bundle of cloth. She reapplies new skin, and deposits it on the bundle, tossing it to the clear path. After a quick double-check, she teleports down. Her shoes slap the floor of the alley as she makes her escape He had increased the output pressure by 2%. While not much, it would come in handy for later. Never knew when a couple of points of power would come in use. He would leave in thirty minutes.|| When she can, she unloads her bag and gets the rest of her costume on - stuff scavenged from the wards' supply room, skin stretched over a dress, and a 'utility' belt with some frisbees, darts and scissors. 12A good number of the protectorate forces are spread across the city, while a little girl casually makes a fool of all of them as she skips(presumably) out of the northeastern end of Roosevelt Park. Might also gambol or prance, at her preference. But in any case no alarms seem to have been raised. She roams, heading to the nearest busy street, eastwards, looking only for opportunity. This isn't a patrol, there's no agenda or motivation beyond a need to get rid of her restlessness. 'Opportunity' is anything from a convenience store where she can stock up on candy to a lone gangbanger or a patrolling cape - hero or villain. She doesn't care about the attention she gets or the fact... ...that someone might call the PRT. She's out, and she can place skin here and there, to get out of harm's way should she see a situation she can't handle. || 12Now she's at the three way intersection of Vernor Highway, which leads directly back to the Station HQ, Michigan Avenue, and 14th st., with a bar and burger place across 14th. East along Michigan Avenue seems like the best bet, at the cost of probably drawing much more attention from traffic. Alternately, she could parallel it behind the main row of road facing buildings- more likely to find ... ... trouble, not to mention any number of 12nooks and crannies to explore. Fleece makes a beeline for the burger place on the busier street, heading straight in the door. Provided she's not interrupted or bothered, she heads straight for the bathroom, to drop some skin behind the toilets. * Sage (SageGSS@dlp-B78134ED.dhcp.stpt.wi.charter.com) has joined #MotorCity 12It is fairly busy, this time of night, and she makes a good bit of progress before someone looks- really LOOKS- at her, a woman almost dropping her tray of burgers as she gasps at the sight. Several others turn to look at the stir.|| Annoying. Haven't they ever seen a cape before? Fleece ducks into the bathroom, deposits skin as discreetly as possible, then teleports back to the main street. Goats are prey more than predator, and prey know to cover their tracks. If the PRT wants to come after her, she'll make the path as confusing as possible. She heads for the parallel street where trouble is more likely.|| 12 Nobody actually stops her before she gets into there, and she can dimly hear people discussing what to do about the situation. Boy, won't they be sheepish when they send someone in there and find out that she's pulled the wool over their eyes. She heads around into the service street which doesn't even seem to be named- or the signs were stolen- running along behind the irregular line of ... ... businesses. Landmarks include a pretty12 fantastic 12mural crossing the back of three buildings, but she doesn't actually run into anyone except some stray cats immediately.|| A frustrating start to a frustrating night. Fleece is itching for a fight, for some kind of conflict to spice up her day to day, so she feels like she's making ~some~ headway in the grand scheme of it all. She'll probably be punished for her excursion, so a fruitless night is worse than almost anything else. She continues her travel ducking into deeper side streets, eye out for anything suitably sharp or jagged, possible trouble, or any friendly looking citizens.|| Some possibilities present themselves as she crosses between what looks like a library or something and an abandoned lot to come across some sort of park from the back side. She can see, distantly, some woman walking a dog almost as large as she is, while in the shadows closer by she can see lights- cigarettes and cellphone screens briefly lighting faces, hands. Hard to tell- probably teenagers, ... ... might not be.|| Fleece draw closer to the teenagers, depositing skin at the first bit of cover she has available, to watch what they're doing. *while watching what they're doing.|| There's a fence along the back boundary, but it has obviously been years since it was actively maintained- a tree had grown right up through one of the holes, absorbing one edge of the gap in the fencing while the other droops down enough to walk right through. Well, she might need to hop slightly. It actually takes a good long while for anyone to actually notice her approach- and when they do, ... ... some guy perched on a rusted old playground fixture that might have once been a turtle or a frog falls right on his ass- the other, in their mid to late teens, start laughing at him- until they get a better look. 'What the fuck' seems to be the question of the night, so far. "Yo, little mexican kid in a halloween mask, scare the shit outta you," one jokes. || "I wear this mask for a reason," she says, speaking very quietly. She reaches up and removes the skin from her face with one hand, before lifting up her mask to reveal a face with no skin on it. "The PRT made me sick."|| One, a big guy in an oversized purple shirt, had been leaning over towards her when the mask pulls away and... Well, he lurches back, stumbling as he steps on the guy who's fallen before. "Shit man, wh-fuck!" that guy growls as his attempt to get back is temporarily thwarted and everyone seems to be standing up now. "What- what the FUCK you playin, you playin!" shouts another. Off in the ... ... distance, more lights move around a little, apparently noticing what's going on. Or, at least, that something's going on. || Fleece is quick to put the mask back in place before her skin grows back. "Don't mean any trouble, it's not contagious. They need more superheroes, you know. They're telling me I need to find some people to fight, or I can't get the fix. I have to meet quotas, and if I don't, they'll put something in my brain. Do you know where I can find someone to fight? I have to meet my quota."|| The big guy who'd talked before got the closest look, and he exchanges glances with a couple of the others. "Yo, kid, just... I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about, don't want shit to do with nothing." Aren't guys in purple shirts... hadn't Fleece heard something about that? Some gang or something burning down a factory? Anyway, these guys are mooks at best, and they seem more creeped ... ... out than anything. "Yo, why you starting shit?" Two of the others seem to be more convinced- they're whispering quickly about who to point her at- She manages to catch the names 'Bootlegger' and 'Gloves,' and perhaps more importantly, a mention of 'that irish place-' She definitely passed something like that on the way here. Fleece is dimly aware that she might've overstepped a line, but she's not exactly regretting it either. Bootlegger... that's some kind of crime like making fake boots or something? Too boring. No, her focus is on simpler things right now. "You guys aren't friends with the PRT are you? Who are you? And who's gloves?" Silence. Whoa, that happened fast. "Yo, whoa, uh, don't, don't be messing," one of them says, looking terribly uncomfortable- unsuprisingly, the one who had let the name slip. She notices that he glances, probably unconsciously, back towards the club she'd passed. The big guy shoots him a look. "We ain't know nothin' bout that. The PRT, they keep to themselves, they a'aight. Leave us alone, ... ... fight some fuckin, some supervillains or something, right?" A couple of nods of varying sincerity. || "You *are* friends with the PRT then? Because I have to go back and they make me tell them everything I did, and if you aren't friends, then I'd lie because I don't like them either, I only do what they make me do. But if you are friends, then I can tell them." She's ready to teleport the moment someone draws a weapon. She isn't calculating about it, but she knows she can get away with a lack of tact and pretended innocence, and she's already got them on their heels, off balance, she might as well use it. Annoying jerkfaces, mentioning a name and not saying anything.|| "Yo, fuck this!" one of them suddenly shouts, drawing more attention from the other group- they start approaching. He's digging in the back of his baggy pants for... something she can't see. Might be a cellphone, might be something else. "Yo, fuck, cool off," the big guy says, but things are getting a bit out of control- nervous guy looks ready to bolt, possibly more scared of his friends ... ... beating the shit out of him than of her... or perhaps of the other group. "Hey, you get out of here... uh. Sheepface, or whatever the fuck you call yourself!" He's trying to, and in fact succeeding at, making himself look bigger than he already did. ~Well~, Fleece tells herself, ~This was a waste of time. She hasn't been gone that long, and she seeded some doubt in the mind of the public. She teleports back to the 18th floor of the PRT building, hoping she wasn't missed. The PRT still doesn't know as much about her powers as they need to- not her range, not her flexibility... and not that her manifested skin left inside the tracking anklet maintains current so it registers like she never took it off. So there's that.||