<div align="center">(http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k512/MissF1R3/Loft_zpskneyfv4a.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">The BombShelter - Brooklyn, NY</span></span><br/>Another morning in New York's most populous borough. Crime never slept, but it preferred shadows to light and so the day was often much more relaxed than the night. This morning seemed to be a peaceful one. No sirens wailing outside, just the natural melody of birds chirping and the hustle and bustle of people outside. A pleasant breeze wafted in through the open windows of the Bombshells' loft apartment, bringing with it the scents of the morning.The loft was a mixture of luxurious and industrial, the fine black and white furniture blending nicely with the rustic browns and greys of it's brick walls and duct work. Shiori's OCD shined through in the high polish on the floors and furniture. You could almost see yourself in the<em>couch</em>, even. For all intents and purposes it seemed like a normal apartment, yet it hid many clever secrets worthy of the New York based hero group. Re-enforced walls, doors, windows. Alarm systems. Encrypted internet. Hidden security monitors connected to micro cameras around the apartment, the building, the entire city block itself. It was more than a loft, if was a safehouse for Brooklyn's finest metahuman protectors. It was home.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k512/MissF1R3/Mila_zpsxgtumjlf.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Shiori Izayoi<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Home<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Doing:</strong>Working<br/><hr/><br/>Click click clack click. Fingers on keyboard. Shiori was at her usual morning spot; the desk in the living area that held their League-connected terminal. She spent every morning doing research on any threats, checking the news, and keeping in contact with her other allies. A cup of coffee sat beside her, cream and three sugar, parked neatly on a coaster. The dark-haired young woman was still wearing her briefs, bra, and loose-fitting flannel shirt. Ostensibly she was still in her jammies, but she somehow still managed to look absolutely stunning. Shiori's 'I just rolled out of bed' look was equivalent to others' 'I spent three hours getting ready' look. Not a hair out of place on her. That OCD of hers had somehow seemingly made her impervious to groggy mornings. Her persnickety nature was a bit of a running joke around the house, but she took it with good humor and it was hard to argue how neat she kept the place. She sipped her coffee, eyes on the monitor in front of her while in the background the TV played the morning news.