AS the group of misfits headed for the truck, one member had trailed back a bit longer than the rest. Jason O'Grady knew that their equipment had been stowed away and they were told they'd get it back after the jump, but he still felt uncomfortable trusting someone else with his things. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his black bandana-- Silk, the last gift his sister had given him before that horrid night. He tied the comforting scrap of cloth around his neck and pulled it up over his nose, concealing half his face. Jason then made a slight detour, grabbing a handfull of bolts that were sitting atop a nearby crate. He tucked the stolen junk into his pockets and headed for the truck, hopping onto the back just as they began moving. Sighing with relief, the young man reached up and pulled his goggled down over his eyes, looking at the motley crew.

Their group was a strange mix, to be sure. Spaniard, Poles, Italian, English, Oriental. Jewish, Christian, whatever the Chinese believed in. It was a wonder to him that the group had even come together, and it'd take a miracle for them not to be caught. Then again, the miracles were there, weren't they? Each and every one of these people, himself included, were supposedly some kind of miracle. Besides, what was the alternative? Go back to the farm? Forget the Family? Mother and Emma? Crawl back to John and accept a life of growing potatoes and hating each other?

Jason allowed himself a rueful smile as he sat cross-legged on the floor of the truck. This was his best shot. Even if the odds were bad, he'd take it. [color=92278f]"Well now, this is a fine how'dya do, innit?"[/color] He asked nobody in particular, the Irish lilt learned from his father leaking into his voice. [color=92278f]"The lot of us, appearin' in fuck-all-nowhere, headin' fer Paris, ready to sock a Nazi in the nose? Well I'd almost say it's the start of some kinda modern day fairy tale, wouldn't you all?"[/color]