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Arising from a nightmare-torn sleep to the sound of her alarm, Ella's first instinct was to reach for the revolver near her bed, and her second was to do a full check of the room around her. Realising she was, perhaps, the safest she'd ever been, she relaxed and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was 2 in the morning, after an early night, Ella had decided to rise early, as she realised she had no idea about this place, how it worked when things happened, so she played it safe and awoke as early as she could while still having a full night's sleep. 

Putting on "Clair de lune" by French composer Claude Debussy, Ella began to make breakfast, and to Ella, 'making breakfast' was preparing a bottle of nutrient shake and sipping it as she practised her Arabic. Ella had always found French music to be so close to her heart, and so moving for her, even though she had never had a chance to visit the country, it spoke to her. Her breakfast was not normally this brisk, but for the sake of ease in a new environment, she decided it best to start off simple, and not cause any complications. She was not, as you would say, a skilled chef.

The next four hours for Ella were just a case of working out, completing her morning routine, and ensuring her mind was active for the rest of the day, practising foreign languages as well as those she had already mastered, working on her own compositions, and ensuring all her gear was ready to go whenever she was needed. At the 6 o'clock wakeup call, she was more than ready and energised to head out, collecting the gear she had with her, decidedly leaving the revolver with live rounds in her room, as an accident with that would be extremely fatal.

Still, she was one of the last to arrive at the training grounds, as there were a few bits of calibration to be done to the songbirds. She had brought ten of them with her, and a couple of eavesdroppers, as it would be interesting to see how the rest of the operators interacted with them.

She listened in to a couple of conversations, and paid particular interest to one of the operators being chastised for his use of cam-cream, and thought of the poor unfortunate soul who had decided on some stylistic 'makeup' choice. Compared to some of the other operators, she felt under-geared. Her uniform was not as fully covered as some others, is lightweight for the busy streets of Hong-Kong, and ensures that silence could be kept when it needed to be. She did spot one operator, an American female she believed, who appeared to have armour similar to hers in style, less bulky than a lot of the other operators. 

One thing she did notice that she immediately regretted was the commonplace use of gas masks. While her 'bandana' over her mouth was specially designed to keep some gasses out of the system, by the accounts of what the White Masks were using, it would be near useless. It would be an investment she would have to make.

Looking out for a known face, she sought if she could see Jane amongst the group of operators, but it appeared she had not arrived yet. Ella supposed it wouldn't hurt to make friends with some of the operators, but they all seemed otherwise occupied, apart from the American female she had previously spotted. She strolled up to her and offered her hand, as well as a warm, if not small, smile.

"Hey there, I'm Ella, and Songbird is my operator alias. What shall I call you? I see you prefer the versatility of lighter clothing than the heavier garbs the other operators prefer to wear."

[@Bee] [@Zoey White]