Sitting in her boring music elective, Sarah began messing with her arcane jewelry, imagining who else she could use it on today. The material all glowed silver as it expanded across her outfit, a MTI logo and barcode appearing on her shoulder and her sclera oscillating through a few rgb colors before settling on her usual blue. It was her equivalent of an eyeroll, at this point.
Her father, Richard McMillan, had tried to rescue her from an injury at a young age by transferring her into an experimental company chassis, complete with rare ferromagnetic crystals she could use to conduct and redirect energies about her. Legally she was MTI property and not a person anymore, but she was still treated excessively well by everyone around her. Possibly out of pity. The only real friend she could remember was Beth, who was spending this elective sharing some inane ranking of her favorite bassists to a group of disinterested students.
