Hans was a sight for sore eyes, and Ellen was glad it was him who came from the basement. He was armed and ready for action--exactly as they should have been at the start of this business. They were wasting precious time that they needed to be using to follow the assholes who made off with their medications.

Hans and Mark broke the news, and Ellen was eager to chime in that she was ready to go right now. But Brooks retorted that they were clearly the wrong group for this sort of mission. Looking around, Ellen couldn’t help but agree. There just [b]had[/b] to be people better suited for this at Goodnight. But for whatever reason, no one else was available. 

Brooks told them to get in the van, and walked off with Abigail for a bit. Ellen silently hoped that he would bring her to the basement of the house so she could get picked up. With her injury, she wasn’t going to likely be able to actually help them on this mission. She wasn’t sure how much they could all do piled into the Billy Bus, either, but she wasn’t going to argue. 

“Good to see you, Hans.” Ellen said. She knew they weren’t going anywhere just yet. They had to wait for Brooks (at least) to return, so she leaned against the van. She looked around, wondering how much use they would all be loaded up in one van. It would have been easier, perhaps, if they had two vehicles. Didn’t the bootleggers have a car? The one they used to bring the supplies here in the first place?

Ellen didn’t see any other car or truck here, and after a few moments, realized that the attackers must have taken the entire vehicle. Assholes.

“You think we can do this?” Ellen asked, looking at Hans. In theory, it was simple. Drive fast, catch up with a truck, take possession of it again. But these guys had clearly been well-armed, and...well nothing was ever simple anymore. And they weren’t exactly the [i]cream of the crop[/i]. 

“Hard to say. Not sure who we’re dealing with, what experience they have, if they’re expecting us. They had foresight enough to ambush the bootleggers, but anyone who’s thrown a punch before can tell you it is a lot easier when the other poor bastard isn’t expecting it - and, army or not, it is very easy to let your guard down when you think you are alone.” Hans gestured to one of the bodies, still lying in the sand.

Ellen nodded, looking over at the nearby body. It felt...wrong, to just leave it here. This person had died trying to get the medical supplies to the people of Goodnight, and they were going to just leave the dead behind to decay out here in the hot Australian sun. On the one hand, she knew there was nothing they could do for the dead, and they needed to spend their time trying to help the living. On the other, it left her with a sobering realization that when she died, her body would likely just be left on the ground. People would move on, and she would be forgotten.

Shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling, Ellen looked at Hans again, and the armored vest he wore to protect himself. “Well, hopefully they won’t expect us to come after them--and maybe they wasted most of their ammunition putting holes in the house.” She gestured to the abode with one hand, wondering what Brooks and Abigail were up to. 

“That’s unlikely. Bullets are much cheaper than you might think, Ellen, easy to stockpile. If they were willing to use them on a group of strangers out in the middle of nowhere like this, you can bet they have more wherever it is they came from.”

He paused for a moment, looking around, noticing Ellen’s gaze falling on one of the bodies.

“Hm.” He grunted. “I doubt they knew what they were dealing with, all the same. Probably thought our bootleggers were dealing drugs or some other contraband.”

Hans clicked his tongue, then looked back to Ellen.

“Thinking about the odds is a mixed proposition. On the one hand, you need to maintain an accurate assessment of your abilities, and make sure you manage the risks - but also, it can be more valuable to just [i]do[/i]. If you think too much that you will fail, if you think so much about the danger, then it distracts you. Do you know what I mean?”

It was hardly reassuring to think that the men were still well-armed. But Hans seemed to suggest that they were probably going after the drugs just to steal them, rather than this being an organized anti-Underground sort of effort. So while they might be expecting weaponry, they weren’t likely expecting magic.

Hans warned her about overthinking things, and Ellen grinned lightly. Over-thinking generally wasn’t one of her problems. Keeping an accurate assessment of her abilities might be more of a challenge, but she would never really know what she could do unless she pushed herself.

“Yea, I think so.” Ellen replied. She saw Brooks coming back with Abigail, both coming back with extra firepower. She frowned at the sight of the injured kid returning, but it really wasn't her place to judge, and so she kept her thoughts to herself. 

At Brooks’ question about who had experience with firearms, Ellen looked over the others in the group before answering. She knew if nothing else, she was better-suited than Abigail, and she had a feeling Angeline was pretty adverse to firearms as well.

“I fired a pistol once.” Ellen told him. “I was only a few feet away, but I did hit the person I was aiming for, so I think that counts for something.” More than the number of times she had fired a gun, in terms of relevant experience, was the underlying fact that Ellen had pointed her weapon at an actual [b]person[/b] and pulled the trigger. In theory, Hans could tell her about the safety and such along the way, right? Still, she would gladly let another take the extra gun if they pressed. 

Shortly after answering, Ellen got back into the van, hoping they could get moving sooner rather than later.