The house was adorned with likely fresh bullet holes. As Ellen approached, her gaze moved over the line, concluding it was likely a series of aimed shots rather than a spray. She was absolutely no expert, but she liked to pretend that if she thought critically about the scene, she could make conclusions that were just as valid as someone who had years of training understanding crime scenes. She watched a few American shows about solving crimes. That made her basically just as qualified, right?

As she got closer, she saw the blood splatter. Some of the bullets found their target. She concluded one of the bootleggers had run inside to try to escape from whoever was shooting at them. This person probably didn’t have the medical supplies--but if they were still alive, they might have some information about their ambush. [i]And they could need medical help.[/i] Ellen thought, a few moments later.

The door to the house hadn’t been locked. Which suggested the person running didn’t have time to lock it. [i]Or they were being chased and decided against throwing their body against the frame of a door that already had holes[/i] She realized as it creaked open. 

Ellen entered after Brooks, and then stepped to the side to get a better look at the entryway. She takes care to avoid stepping in the blood on the floor, and is a bit relieved when the trail to another room seems to indicate the person got up rather than crawled.

The rest of the living room was covered in dust, which was good and bad. The house should be abandoned if they were going to use this as a drop point. But it also meant there wasn’t likely much here in the way of medical supplies, or concrete leads about where to go next. They needed whoever was behind that door to be alive.

It probably wasn’t a bad guy, unless the bootlegger that was shot had died and they left the blood trail as a trap. The room on the other side of the door probably had a window, so Ellen imagined she could go out and go around to the window to get a better view/enter that way. But it would probably take too long, and she was getting impatient. She just wanted to get inside and see what was going on.

Zephyr confirmed as much a few moments later, whispering that someone was alive. He pointed towards the door, and Ellen rolled her eyes. She didn’t mean to be rude, but wasn’t it a bit obvious that the trail of blood would likely lead to the person who was still alive? 

At least they didn’t have to split up to investigate the creepy dusty house-- and at least they already knew what was in the basement. See, things were beginning to look up already.

Ellen went over to the door and put her hand on the doorknob. She looked to Brooks, and mouthed [i]cover me?[/i]. She figured she could pull the door open, and then if someone was going to shoot at them, Brooks would be ready. 

Brooks nodded his head once, his snub nose drawn and ready. “There’s still two bootleggers missing, we were expecting four of ‘em.”

The doorhandle was cold, hard, metallic - not so unlike the tang of blood in the air.

“Wa-it, stop.” came a shivering voice, from behind a terrified hand, as they pushed the door open.

There were two bodies in the room, one of them curled up and motionless on the floor, the other leant back against a kitchen cupboard, raising his hand to shield himself from the new intruders.

“Stop, I’m unarmed!” He wheezed through bloodstained lips, his frame shaking and weak.

“Who’s your people?” Brooks voiced out over the others, hand tightening around his firearm as he patiently waited for a reply.

Ellen had been prepared to charge in upon seeing the unarmed bleeding person, but Brooks entered quickly with his gun and posed a question instead. It was a good question, Ellen had just already concluded that only the bootleggers would be unarmed and left to bleed out when the baddies clearly had ample opportunity to load up the medications and leave. Plus, this guy wasn't armored up like those assholes had been. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to step between the man with the gun and his target.

Instead, she turned to Matthew and whispered. "Get Angeline, now." Then she turned back to wait for the injured fellow to answer. 

The man on the ground took a long look up at Brooks, and lowered his hand with an exhausted sigh.

“Same as yours, I think. I- I don’t know what other daft cunts would be all the way out here at this hour, or where you coulda come from except the usual place. We’re the leggers you was meant to meet.” He groaned, clutching at a stomach wound, still wet with blood. “We got hit, everyone’s fuckin dead but me, and I’m fucked up. I’m fucked up. I ain’t, I ain’t gonna…” 

"Shit." Ellen moved past Brooks and knelt down in front of the probably dying man. He didn't look like he was going to pull out a gun, and well, Brooks still had his. "We are getting our healer but just in case, tell us what you can." It was callous, yes, but Ellen also felt it was realistic. If he was going to die soon, it would be better if he could tell them details. "How many were you up against, what kind of transport did they use, how long ago did they go and do you know which direction they came from or went to?" Her questions came out quickly, her impatience and cynicism overriding any compassion she might have had for the man.

Brooks didn’t interfere or interrupt the barrage of questions Ellen shot at the injured bootlegger, primarily because those were all the correct questions. He stuffed his firearm into the back of his pants and looked about the house, assessing the fight that happened a bit better as they waited for the man to answer the questions.