"Mhm. So you can't work small-scale, then?"

There's a rush of heat, the wind catching Wreck's hair and clothing as she's gently lifted into the air, floating a few inches off the ground, enough to look Mechakoloss in the eye. "I'm pretty sure you know already, but I can handle getting hit with tools, 'n I can fly faster than most people can run. Right now, I beat you. There are going to be other capes with similar capabilities, it's fucking inevitable considering how many people can fly and shoot lasers. You're cool, you're presumably doing things right, it'd fucking suck if you wound up some psycho's pet tinker. You should really invest in a gun, or whatever personal-defense measures you can make."

She proceeds to place her hands on either side of the duffel bag, and twist it like she's closing a bag of sliced bread. The bag full of nails, bits of chicken-wire, and other scrap folds under her grip, squashing and warping until it's roughly half as long as it was previously, twisted into a hyperboloid, even the fabric squashing like rubber. "Even if you need to make it something you can keep with you." She pulls back her hands slowly, and the duffel bag untwists as it returns to normal. "I'm basically blind right now, and even I can see that being entirely unarmed as a tinker is tactical suicide."

Wreck lets her inspect the arms, deciding to show off a bit. They sure are arms, complete with proper joints, fingernails, and a full range of motion, growing directly from her back. A slight effort of will from Wreck causes them to retract and disappear, only to re-emerge from one of her normal arms, shoulders leading directly into the palm of the preceding hand. She doesn't appear to have any difficulty moving the result, basically rolling her arm into a spiral with all of the different joints and otherwise contorting it in various ways.

"Mind if I ask what kind of tech you make? Kinda curious, I've shown off a bit already, you haven't. Seems only fair."

"I'm not a tinker. A few other things, sure, but not a tinker. Don't know the first thing about engineering or anything like that." She taps on her mask. "This stuff's all natural. Or about as natural as bits of broken glass growing through someone's face can be, anyways."

She considers Mechakoloss's question, before shaking her head. "Any alterations are temporary, stuff snaps back to normal once I lose concentration or let go. Can't pull stuff apart, but I can stretch it, make things more flexible, soften impacts, that kind of thing." She pulls her staff off of her back, passing the duffel bag to Mechakoloss before taking a few steps back, casually tying the length of rebar into something that looks like one of those balloon dogs clowns make for children. She tosses it up into the air and it completely unravels as soon as it leaves her hand, metal straightening out forcefully until she's left with the original staff, which she catches and secures back in place with a set of arms that each sprout from different areas on her back.

"I'd appreciate that, honestly. Could you do both? Studs for blunt-force, spikes or blades for when I need something sharp." She gestures towards the mishmash of sparking mechanical parts around her head. "My power's pretty focused on weakpoints, being able to slip a blade through gaps and get through stuff easier might be helpful if I wind up going up against some of the psychopaths in this city."

She tilts her head, considering something. "I'm assuming you're some kind of Tinker, if you need scrap. Feel free to take whatever you want. It's all junk anyways, better off recycled into something constructive."

Wreck shrugs, taking a few steps forward and looking at the patches, the weak charge in the air briefly intensifying to a slight audible buzz as she tilts her head, trying to discern details in color through the funhouse mirror that is her mask...and upon finally seeing them, she concludes that Mechakoloss is an ally to her cause, tension visibly leaving her body.

"I was thinking of maybe adding some spikes to my coat, something I could use if I lose my staff." The length of rebar on her back bobs up and down as she moves, the weapon strapped into place. "The rest...probably gonna take most of it to a scrapyard, honestly. Why, you want it?"

Without looking, a second set of hands peel away from the ones Wreck is currently using and wave at the newcomer, before she switches off the metal-cutter, stows it in the duffel bag at her side, and starts pulling segments of chain-link fencing, chicken-wire, and what look like nails away from the hastily-erected "fence" around some trees in a public park, balling up the whole mess with some four-armed effort and putting it in the duffel bag as well. She's doing all of this with her bare hands, the metal simply deforming like rubber instead of stabbing in when she presses down on it.

She turns towards Mechakoloss, and it's immediately obvious that the helmet she's wearing is partially-growing from her head, her eyes simply the barest flecks of green reflected and refracted into nonsense within a crush of broken mechanisms. She speaks, and her voice is one-part rasp, one part mechanical clicking, as she talks through straining metal and clinking glass.

"Let me guess, some new Protectorate cape here to beat me into unconsciousness for daring to ensure someone doesn't get tetanus because a landlord decided to solve homelessness with barbed wire?"

Heat pours off of her body, the air itself holding her aloft as she pivots back to an upright position and lowers herself to the ground.

Wreck is currently flying around the city, heading to places that are notable for a high amount of anti-homeless fencing, spikes set up on ledges, etc...and simply removing them, bit by bit, softening spike-strips and pulling them out by hand, yanking up illegal fences, even taking a handheld metal-cutter to more permanent alterations at times. The sparking of wires and whirring of mechanical parts is audible as she does so, shrapnel-mask fully-deployed to allow her to easily scan her surroundings and pick up anything she might've missed. She's practically daring anyone to try and stop her, the haphazard snarl of glass shards and savaged metal "teeth" she calls a mouth with her power active twisted into a smile as she works.

Wreck's hand is...strangely inflexible, in Cruach's grip, in a way that doesn't seem to matter regardless of how much strength she puts into the handshake. Something bends slightly in Cruach's arm as Wreck shakes her hand, before it settles back to normal and contact is broken. Doesn't feel like anything was shifted permanently out of place, there wasn't any pain, just discomfort.

Wreck flies backwards a bit, bouncing slightly as the updraft holding her up centers itself beneath her, gusts of hot air blowing around. She's still smiling...or, as close to it as she can manage, considering the current state of her face..

"Do you need a ride over, or are you good?"

"Fair enough. I can understand using your powers for payment. You're a professional, which is good and bad. Good because you don't do anything you're not required to, not gonna disrupt things unless someone has you do it, then it's easy to figure out whoever's at the end of things. Bad, because that might mean I have to kick your teeth in for being a corporate sellout willing to support the wrong side of things. Hope it never comes to that." She kinda shrugs, offering Cruach her hand.

"I'd actually appreciate your assistance, as...a deterrent, and another person trying to minimize harm, if nothing else. Don't gotta join in, just...maybe hang around, let people see that you're watching? I can't pay you much."

"It's useful, yeah. Could do without the glass in my mouth, though."

She scowls. "Cruach, the mercenary? Hm. Fair warning, if things turn nasty and you side with the cops, I'm not going to hesitate to protect these people from you. I don't care how strong you are, I can still hurt you."

She has to consider that question for a few seconds. "Not...in this capacity, but yes. People have grievances. The police are just as beholden to the law as anyone, they should face consequences. They don't. Hence, justified protest."

"A deaf man was arrested for 'refusing to comply with an officer's instructions' and 'threatening an officer with the use of gang signs'. ACAB, same as ever." She briefly stretches in midair, her staff snapping back to normal before she affixes the sign back on.

"Three-sixty degree vision doesn't discriminate. I can't shut it off, not without undoing it completely, gotta keep an eye on the protest. It's harmless, though. Couldn't zap someone even if I wanted to. Call me Wreck."

As soon as Cruach enters the range of her Thinker power, she smoothly turns to face her and begins to fly closer, sparks tingling harmlessly across Cruach's body more and more as the distance between them shrinks. She slows to a stop a certain distance away, and tilts her head.

"Are you going to interfere?" At this distance, the sound of metal and glass scraping together is audible as Wreck speaks, pulling her sign off the staff with one hand as the length of metal droops, losing it's rigidity as it's held like a whip. "I'm here to make sure things don't get violent."

Wreck's currently floating in midair above a crowd of protesters near a police station, the electrical cables in her hair whipping upwards as the updraft around her holds her aloft, a sign stuck on the end of her rebar staff: Stop Police Brutality! The Law Applies To You!

She's chanting with the protesters, "Stop Police Brutality!", her raspy, grinding tone of voice distinct above the crowd.

Wreck's most noticeable feature is probably the destroyed mechanisms and debris growing from her head, eyes reduced to a smear of green behind cracked lenses and fragments of metal, mouth zig-zagging across her face in a rough pattern of shrapnel and broken glass pushing up from her gums, the pops and snaps of electricity sounding out as small arcs of lightning cascade across nearby objects, tingling across skin without doing any harm. The rest of her aesthetic leans into the junk look, metal plates sewn onto a jacket with wire, a worn pair of jeans, and a set of combat boots.