OOC "Now arriving at Mason Square, Recreational District. Please undo your seat belt and exit the vehicle." Following the commands of the automated voice, Jason got out of the remote controlled cab, a less-than-pleased scowl on his face as he did so. "Enjoy your stay in the recreational district. Remember that curfew on Fridays is-" Jason didn't give the cab's voice time to finish its message before shutting the door closed, maybe with a bit more force than was needed. He had just spent a very long day in Black school trying to generate sonar shockwaves to knock down training dummies. Didn't matter how many times he told them that creating sound from nothing was approximately 20 measures of difficulty above taking existing sounds and amplifying them. The rat bastards had still insisted on making him try to generate his shockwaves from scratch. The paranoid part of him of course thought that it was almost like they had purposefully run him harder than usual since he had an important meeting that day. But he quieted his worries and instead just scanned the square, looking to see if everyone was in place. It seemed everyone had remembered the meeting place and time, but were wisely staying separated either solitarily or in groups of twos for now as instructed. Good, he couldn't have them being careless and blowing everything when they were so close to the end now. He went to a sweets bar and sat down at one of the stools, punching in an order for a strawberry and banana milkshake, keeping his head down and not looking at any of the other patrons. Typically something that some would find to be suspicious behaviour, luckily though Jason was paradoxically well known as that one guy no one knew really well. He of all people was the last anyone would expect, including himself, to be the leader of a resistance movement. He never got loud, never got visibly angry, the most he could manage was becoming apparently upset and verbally shutting down all responses with people who put him into a situation he disliked. But still he was compliant and avoided confrontation, or interaction in general for that matter. For someone like him, he didn't make friends very easily, and those that he did make, he had a tendency to cling onto far too tightly, which resulted in them moving away. Sometimes, Jason really wondered just how he could have survived in Brewster if it wasn't for Jack. Before letting himself get swept up in his own depressive thoughts though, the young man passed a hand through his snowy hair and took a deep breath, remembering what was important here, what they were doing today. This would be the first official meeting of all the Broken Mirrors, and hopefully one of the last. As he waited for his order to be processed, he put up his hand to shield his eyes from the early afternoon sun and started whistling out a small musical tone. the tune, however, would be unheard by those around him. By tapping into his power, he contained and redirected the sound across the crowd, making it so that only his group members would hear it, letting them know that the meeting was about to begin. He noticed that Skylar and Lelou were sitting down at an empty table already, as instructed. The first member would come to him at the bar, strike up a conversation with him, they would then go and join the duo at the table, and then the rest of the members would join in one by one. Good this plan was pretty sound, gatherings of six or seven people were pretty common in the recreational district. He supposed it was an effect of the cutthroat under-culture that permeated through the interactions of the subjects in Brew. As people rose up in ranks, it became more and more apparent that it was unwise to show any of the other subjects any sign of weakness, lest they use it to drag you down and climb up in status by using you as a stepping stool. Being alone was a big weakness, so it wasn't odd for people to stick together in large groups. Even if no one generally trusted their groups of 'friends', they all had a shared benefit of looking stronger by being together in numbers and putting on the portrait of friendship. It was another sad reality of the gilded cage that was Brewster Juvenile Institute for Mental Correctness and Rehabilitation, another method of invisible control from the administrators, a method he woudl be more than happy to exploit if it means allowing him and his group members to strike back at the admins and unlock the damnable cage.