He finished his current cursing at the lathe, a late 90s model that had been second hand long before the decade had ended, and looked about the floor. A plasma cutter he had built out of scrap, a portable inertia-less generator, and a nitrogen flash freezer for testing the breaking points of his creations were the only things about that were able to be considered 'top of the line' and that was mostly because he had built them all himself. Everything else was in the same boat as the lathe, old before he had gotten his hands on it, and the original machine was now likely only a memory, the patches and repairs all that remained.<br/><br/>And yet... He was Junkyard, making due with a shoe string budget, and cast offs that even most landfills would simply destroy. He wore the insult as a badge of pride, like nerds and geeks had before they had become in vogue and fashionable. Upgrading now would... be breaking the reason for the name.<br/><br/>He sighed, and leaned back, anger vanishing like fog in front of the sun. "Maybe. I will think on it."<br/><br/>He sighed again, and went into the RV, and threw himself onto the old lazy-boy, intending to debate on what to replace, but instead he found himself wondering what Mime and the other Ultra Paragon class supers were doing.