"But I think that they just have very low expectations."

Jessica nods sympathetically. "I understand that some of us have higher expectations of ourselves than perhaps the rest of society." She's not going to let her stop there though, of course.

"Exactly. And I'm not trying to talk myself up, here, but I feel like I'm... being looked down on? Because of course a mere human being could never punch some guy who can throw fireballs in the throat. Or like, shoot him with a gun. Not that I shot anyone. It's just... this lens. I just tried to do something and did it. There's nothing parahuman about that."

Jessica nods along, keeping her expression neutral. "I see. While it's certainly admirable to hold yourself to a high standard, and take" - she hesitates momentarily, looking for the right word - "direct action, perhaps there was something in those actions that might have given Armsmaster hesitation?" She realizes that she doesn't have the girl's file in front of her, and taps at the tablet in front of her. "What did you say your name was again? I don't mean your cape name, especially if as you say you aren't one, but I can use that if it makes you more comfortable."

"You can call me Melissa. I never got it... changed, on paper. So I don't know what you have in there. But that's my name. Yes, no 'cape names', thank you."

She leans back a bit, thinking.

The file can be summarized as follows:

BANSHEE*

Name: Brandon Shaner. Access level for that information has been greatly lowered, because, as the "identity risk" sub-section explains, she keeps refusing to not show people her actual ID. The information is fairly sparse, and consists mostly of a preliminary interview and report written by Armsmaster on the day prior. Put simply, he was attracted by, quote, "energetic and irregular screaming punctuated by shouts and gunfire", and found her apparently violently subjugating a small Merchants 'drug-house' occupied by dealers. Apparently there was someone she wanted to drag out of there; the report doesn't go into detail. She exhibited "high endurance, inhuman strength, and clearly superhuman speed and reflexes". A Thinker rating is speculated on but not explained at length. 

It was just yesterday, too, sometime around four in the morning. She's still very much in processing, but appears to be cooperating to avoid any possible charges for use of excessive force. There were many exposed fractures involved, and some friendly fire.

*Ad-hoc designation. No Name Provided.

"Melissa, I see." She nods, finally looking up from the tablet. "According to Armsmaster's initial report, your actions last night seemed to display abilities beyond those of an ordinary human. Even if you don't consider yourself to have a 'power', per se, there are clearly some unusual capabilities you possess. How long have you felt the urge to Make Things Right?" Capital pronunciation, one of her many talents.

"I mean, I work out. This body doesn't look after itself."

Beat.

"I guess you mean 'how long have I known I wanted to Punch Crime', but it was really nothing like that. My friend just... got... into heroin, and I needed to get her out of there. And I got a bit carried away."

A bit. Yes. Buried a little deeper in her file, there is a picture of what appears to be a man with a sharp exposed fracture on his forearm, stabbed into another man's- well, it's a little hard to tell from up close.

"I see. You went in to help a friend in need, and things escalated from there." She folds her hands on the desk. "While the desire to help others is admirable, vigilante justice is illegal and extremely dangerous. The Protectorate and Wards exist to address parahuman crime, and the best way to help is by working with us, not against the system." She pauses, considering. "That said, if you genuinely don't believe you have any parahuman abilities, then this evaluation is somewhat unnecessary. However, the measures you took last night suggest otherwise, and it would be irresponsible of me not to recommend power testing and training to ensure you have control over whatever abilities you may possess. The file says that you exhibited 'inhuman strength', but didn't give further details. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," but I won't be able to help you if you don't admit that you're feeling a bit different than you did yesterday, she doesn't say.

She visibly kind of struggles for a moment, fighting back an urge to roll her eyes. Deep breath.

"...I understand your perspective, here. That being said, of course I'm... open to testing, or whatever. Maybe I'm a genetic freak, or we can all clear this up somehow. All I want is for people to be... open to the possibility that the things I do are things I learned to do. I didn't magically learn martial arts. I've been able to do these things for a long time."

"Also, again, I work out. If Armsmaster can't do leg day on schedule that's not my problem."

A slight smile at that. "I appreciate your candor, and your willingness to work with us to find answers, whatever those may be. I can understand how frustrating it might be to feel misunderstood or underestimated." If you're right about what you are, well, you're not the only human around here. She stands, gesturing towards the door. "Let's check out the gym then, shall we? No need for too much formality."

"Sure, let's try that. Do you get any use out of it, or is it special staff only?"

She stands, too, slinging her satchel back on her shoulder. Off they go.

"I mostly do cardio, but yeah, I do lift." She flexes - admittedly, there's not much to flex, but she's proud that she makes the time at all. "Not everyone's powers are superhuman strength. Even the most intellectual of Thinker types still need to hit the gym regularly, or they'll have a hard time keeping up in the sort of life or death situations that are so common around here."

She maybe checks Jessica out, a little bit. Yeah.

"Cardio's smart. Mostly-not-stopping tends to be a bit more important than running fast or punching things. And, yeah, I imagine the pointdexters get put through all kinds of things. Though I didn't really get the impression from them."

She notices, because it's her job to notice things. Jessica chuckles. "You're not wrong. Many of the more intellectual capes do struggle a bit in the more physical aspects of the job, at least at first. But we find ways to adapt." She swipes her key card to unlock the gym doors. "After you."

She has a sneaking suspicion she's been caught, but alas. Sometimes that's kind of the point, and she can pretend it was the plan all along. She struts into the gym, carefully eyeing the room for discrepancies. 

Jessica joins her, sweeping the room with a quick glance. Standard set of free weights, a few different weight benches and racks, some cardio equipment, and training mats. A lot of reinforcement on the equipment - stuff is a bit more bolted down than your average civvie gym. The weights seem to go up quite high as well, topping out with some kind of strange chrome plate that draws the eye and is likely heavier than it appears at first glance.

She really wants to try to lift the space metal. It feels like a trap, though.

"This is great. Love the reinforced steel bolts on the bench. Did you know mine isn't even stuck to anything? Not really worth the subscription, really. What moves do you want to see?"

Jessica smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "No need to put on a show for me. Go ahead and do your typical workout - show me what those normal human abilities are capable of." The tease is light, not too mocking. She settles in at one of the benches, clearly ready to observe.

Hm. Something about being told to do whatever after she asked for guidance is paradoxically setting off her defiance. She notes this, and contemplates the cognitive dissonance, for a moment, before shaking herself out of it. Kind of.

Beat.

"Well, it's just your luck, I usually like to put on a show for myself, so..."

"...Or it would be. If I came dressed for gym. I don't really trust myself with gymnastics in this. Anyway."

She chuckles, waving a hand dismissively. "By all means, wear what's comfortable. I'm not here to judge your fashion choices."

No, sweetheart. You're here to judge my worth.

Tension in her body, followed by stillness, followed by a deep, relaxing breath. You'll see.

A warm-up, first. Arms in, curling, fingers popping, and then out, shoulders popping, another deep breath. Twist from one side, to the other, curl her legs in and back. Pop-pop-pop. Clench and release.

You'll see what this meat can do.