Jimmy wasn’t half-bad as a lover. He was a better fisherman, though. Ellen watched his sleeping form in the small cabin’s bed, and then got up and began scooping up her discarded clothing from the floor. He was markedly bad at cleaning, she noted as she took in old dishes still on the dining table to her left. They had eaten out, so the meal must have been from lunch--or prior.
It was late, and Ellen waffled as she began to dress herself. There was a part of her that wanted to crawl back into the bed and snuggle up with Jimmy for warmth. But there was another part of her that knew what could be coming--and wondered how anyone could sleep through it. She had planned to spend the evening alone, just to be safe(r)....but then Jimmy caught up with her at a pool table and the game led to drinks and greasy bar food that was meant to resemble a dinner.
Her phone was plugged into the wall of the houseboat, and Ellen grabbed it, looking at the time before bundling it with the rest of her things. She still had some time before 3am, and decided to hop into the shower. If Jimmy woke up, maybe he would convince her to come back to bed. And maybe she would consider the offer rather than outright declining.
The side of the shower had a window with a glazed film that let in light, but not much else. The boat was on the dock, so in addition to the small bathroom light, she had a few lights from the dock, and the light from the night sky illuminating the area. It seemed calm. Perhaps this year, nothing would happen. Perhaps no one would awaken and people would be left alone this time.
But the people wouldn’t be so lucky. She couldn’t be so lucky. Ellen stood under the water, conditioning rinsing out of her hair when she realized. Her chest tightened, filling with dread as she instantly knew. Most years she stood wondering, worried whether she would even know before her magic ruined her, but this year she
knew. Ellen muttered a curse and reached out to turn off the water. Her wet hands couldn’t get a grip on the stupid knob, though.
You’re panicking. Ellen told herself.
Calm down, take a breath. Frustrated with the fact that she had mis-judged her timing so thoroughly, Ellen reached out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying her hand before successfully turning off the shower’s faucet. From there, she moved more quickly. She dried her body and wrapped the towel around her hair. She went to get her clothing, and began to dress. While she dressed, she heard her phone vibrate, and she pulled up the new message.
The message was brief, warning her the FOE was coming and telling her where she could go for safety. It was either trust the mysterious text or go off on her own--and since she hadn’t driven to the docks, she would have been walking an awful long time. The FOE would be here in fifteen, so she set her phone timer for five minutes and got busy.
She had liked Jimmy, but not enough to not steal from him. Desperate times and all…
Her phone and charger went in her purse. Then she finished getting dressed. She grabbed her travel bag. Having just docked that day, she still had all of her clothes from the last fishing season. Everything smelled like the salty sea air, but it was good enough. Her bag already had her essentials, but she helped herself to a few of Jimmy’s things. She took two water bottles from the fridge, a box of poptarts, and a few other snack foods. He didn’t have fruit, naturally. It was far easier to store non-perishables when you went to sea for weeks at a time. She opened a cabinet where his first aid kit was, then hesitated. What if Jimmy didn’t notice she took it and didn’t replace it?
Looking at her phone, she still had 2 minutes before her own timer was up. That would have to be enough time. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Ellen left the ship and began making her way down the dock. She spied a larger fishing vessel, and dropped her bags before stepping onto it. Fortunately, larger vessels needed to keep medical kits within relatively easy access, in case of emergencies. She grabbed a large yellow Marine 600 Medical kit, and then quickly departed before anyone saw her and realized what she was doing. It was a tight fit in her bag, but worth it...hopefully.
Her phone buzzed, and Ellen turned off the alarm. She threw the large bag over her shoulder and checked the specifics of the message once more before shoving the phone in her purse once more and setting off. Too bad the message didn’t say what kind of vehicle they would be using… Then again, they had magic, so maybe they didn’t have a vehicle at all.
Five minutes, some distance, and the start of a fresh snowfall later, the town seemed to erupt in gunfire. It couldn’t have been everywhere, it couldn’t possibly have been that the
entire town was shooting itself - but the snow dampened the sound, and the echoes of each shot fired made themselves strange in the tomb-like night sky.
Then, there, around the corner, pulled up to the side of the road.
A hatchback; undistinguished and unremarkable, but for its crew, a man and a woman, daubed in the grey-white of arctic camouflage hunting gear, one of them carrying a carbine rifle in the passenger seat, the other whiteknuckling the steering wheel.
“Ellen, right?” Came a feminine voice from over Ellen’s shoulder, where she could have sworn there wasn’t anyone standing.
Ellen saw the car, which looked like it hadn’t been sitting long enough to accumulate any snow, compared to some of the other vehicles she had seen. She saw the people, then jumped at the voice behind her. Whirling around, Ellen took a step back as she saw that there was, in fact, someone there.
“Uh yea. Yea I’m Ellen.” She replied. Not much point in denying it, since she had sought them out and was walking around with a giant stuffed backpack in the middle of the night. She should have grabbed her pocket knife, but it was at the bottom of the backpack with her other fishing gear. Her hand tightened on the strap of the pack. At least it would be a good blunt object, if she needed to use it as such.
The woman in front of her was short - shorter than Ellen by maybe a bit less than a foot - and slightly rounded in figure. She had a similarly round face, which through lines and crease bore the marks of a frequent and easy smile - though she was not smiling now.
“Super duper.” She said, as naturally as breathing, finally easing back into that comfortable smile that seemed to fit her decidedly Midwestern accent. “You wanna get on in the car, hun? You’re a bit later than expected, and we’ve got all sortsa places to be, dontcha know.”
The car window rolled down.
“Oma, reports of FOE at the houseboat. They won’t be long. Location two is ready for us.” the man with the rifle added, his accent thick and… German?
“Alrighty.” Ellen replied to the smaller woman.
She went up to the car and opened the back door, sliding her bag into the center before sitting along the window seat. She buckled up, and looked at the two in the front. “That’s some gun.” Ellen commented. She would have asked if they were expecting trouble, but given what he just said about the FOE, the answer was obviously yes. “Sorry for taking too long.” She glanced at the friendly woman from before, who was now getting settled in the back beside her bag.
Ellen pulled her bag slightly closer to her, finding the woman’s friendly attitude just a bit suspicious. She felt a pit in her stomach as she realized that the FOE weren’t just at the houseboat--they were at Jimmy’s. Poor Jimmy. “Are they looking for me specifically, or are they going for a no witnesses route?” Ellen asked. Maybe she should have woken him and given him half a chance to get out of there. Or at least encouraged him to put on some pants…
“Well dear, they’re probably just looking for you - and anyone they think is collaborating with you, of course, dear. Your gentleman friend should be ok just so long as he don’t start usin’ magic all of a sudden. Farah, wouldya be a dear and take a quick left there at the stop and go light?” she added.
“Yes, Nanni.” The young woman driving replied, easing down the road on the left hand side - just as a glimpse of a black APC sped past at the next crossing ahead of them, where they’d been going just a moment before, a terrible contrast with the spreading white of the snow on the street behind it.
“Good save.” The German added.
“Thank you so much, Hans dear.”
Ellen nodded in understanding when the woman told her he wouldn't be a problem unless he used magic or helped those with magic. She nearly blurted out a question, but the woman had moved on to giving instructions to the driver.
She had some names now. The driver was Farah, the German Hans, and the grandma was… well, Grandma as best as she could tell. Probably one of those, grandmothers for all, people.
Ellen watched as the APC sped where they would have been going if not for the change in course. That, plus her sudden and silent appearance earlier suggested she was certainly someone with magic. At least she knew how to use it.
"So… do people without magic really help people who do? I mean, I don't see why they would…" Ellen wasn't so cynical as to struggle to imagine anyone acting selflessly. She just couldn't imagine it was common when the stakes were so high. She tended to think of people responding to the awakening with a 'but they did not come for me' attitude.
“Oh, you betcha!” Grandma started. “I won’t beat around the bush with you, dear, I’ve been using magic for about a year now, Farah too, but Hans here just has very strong feelings about how people should be treated, dontcha Hans?”
Hans nodded solemnly.
“I have very strong feelings, yes.” His jaw clenched. “This is not how things should be.”
Farah reached over and squeezed his shoulder silently.
“You’re such a good man, Hans, so brave.” Grandma leaned over towards Ellen, then continued. “He really is such a sweetheart, dontcha know?”
Grandma was as animated as Hans was stoic. They were an interesting pair. Ellen watched the other woman comfort Hans as well, and Ellen got the distinct impression he had a personal stake in this as well. Perhaps he had lost someone...and actually had the means (or will) to do something about it? Did that make Ellen a selfish person for not having done the same?
She shifted in the seat, her winter coat making an awkwardly gravely swish sound with every movement, filling the silence in the car. “I’m sure he is.” Ellen said, noncommittally.
Sure, she didn’t think things should be like this, but...in an ideal world, there wouldn’t be a magical purple fucking light that made people magic. “So you guys got your magic a year ago, and now you...try to stop the FOE from getting other people with magic.” She began, summarizing. “What for?”
Yes, survival was a purpose. But...surviving and living were different things. Ellen had, at times in her life, felt like she was doing one or the other. Grandma seemed calm about their situation, so perhaps she had more to look forward to than just getting by. Maybe these guys had a way to hide the magic, so that they couldn’t be found.
“How did they know to look for me? How did you all know?” She blurted out as the question came to her mind.
“Good question.” Farah mumbled.
“All three are very good questions, dear. Right now our biggest priority is making sure as many folks as possible survive long enough to be relocated to proper hiding places, but we’re sure hopin’ that we can turn the tables on the government once we get the chance to.”
“As for the latter two,” Hans started, “we’re not totally sure how the FOE and their sister organisations know, but some mages have learned how to identify people in the year running up to their awakening. I don’t know for sure how it works, or how reliable it is - but it helps.”
“Ok now, after we go over this bridge here, we’re gonna be approaching a small town where we need to try and make two more pickups, ok? We’re looking for a boy named Timmy, and a girl named Ciara, is that clear with everyone?”
Ellen accepted that first had to come ‘safety.’ She just needed to know there was some bigger...plan,especially now that mages weren’t just killing everything nearby and going crazy after awakening.
“Shit… a year? That would have been nice to know.” Ellen complained. Then again, what would she have done differently? Would she have learned more self-defense? Worked a bit harder at building up her strength? Joined this group months ago if given the chance? There were a multitude of possibilities, but there was really no way to
know what she would have done differently. Hell, she had spent a long time thinking about what ifs. Too damn long.
Even so, Ellen had expected this was coming for years, and she hadn’t done any of those things to prepare herself. She hadn’t even started eating healthier, which she had told herself time and time again she would do.
Ellen turned her attention to the world outside of the windows. They were looking for two more. She wondered if Grandma used ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ to mean they were legitimately kids, or if they were potentially adults--in which case the car could get quite cramped. “You don’t have their pictures or something?” She figured they would have like… some sort of social media picture or something. It was basically impossible to avoid having some sort of online presence in this day and age.
Ellen wondered if they had the last names of the pair they were looking for. She could search them up on her phone. Wait … was her phone traceable? Ellen clenched her jaw at the thought of having to ditch her phone, with all of her connections to her previous life. But it wasn't worth her life, or the lives of the people trying to keep her from the EOC. "Hey, I still have my phone. Do we need to like… smash it or remove a chip or something?" Ellen asked, more than a little worried about losing the device. She didn't even really know if she could trust these people yet. And what if she needed to call for emergency services? Well, they probably wouldn't even help her kind anyway...
Everything seemed relatively quiet outside. It was dark, but still lightly snowing, making it a bit harder to actually see. At least they didn’t hear gunshots and see APCs like where she had been.
“Ja, throw it and anything else that can access the internet out of the car.” Hans replied simply.
Ellen nodded, and began to fish the phone out of her purse. Momentarily she debated smashing it to pieces, but it might honestly be better if someone picked it up and started using the device. Maybe it would throw someone off her track if they traveled around or made purchases. She wouldn't need anything on it anymore.
Ellen opened up the phone and pulled up the photo album. She scrolled down to the bottom of the gallery, and took a moment to look at one in particular. The picture was just a memory. Not worth the lives of these people. She rolled down the window and tossed the phone and charger out the window. "That's it." She told them. She didn't have a tablet or Fitbit or anything like that. "Sorry I didn't think about it sooner."
It had briefly occurred to her when she was at the docks, but she had hesitated. What if she had gotten a text after joining these people asking where she was from the mystery number? Or they had to change their meet spot? She wasn't exactly filled with trust for these people yet, but if they were really being honest with her, then maybe they were just legitimately good people.
“That’s just super.” Grandma gave her a pat on the knee. “I know that musta been hard for you, but you’re doing just great.”
After a while, the car began its approach towards the edge of the town - clouds above it lit orange by the glow of a spreading fire.
It was...both reassuring and a little discomforting when Grandma comforted her about tossing out her phone. On the one hand, she appreciated that it was acknowledged she was making a sacrifice--not just the physical sacrifice of the phone, but her connection and memories of her old life. On the other, she felt annoyed that Grandma knew it was hard for her. She didn’t want to look that...reliant on the phone. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she shrugged. “It’s just a phone. It isn’t worth someone’s life.” She didn’t specify whether she meant her own or theirs. Because she honestly hadn’t decided if she had much to offer compared to these folks.
Then again, maybe she could prove herself useful in this new world, too. They probably didn’t need a crab fisher, but she had other skills...and she liked the cold weather. Ellen looked out the window as they approached the town. There was a fire ahead, which wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it probably meant they were in the right place. “It looks like we are doing the right direction...I don’t suppose either of you are particularly good at putting out fires…” She mused, talking to the two people who performed magic in the car.
Grandma chuckled, her eyes gleaming.
“Oh, honey, I can handle the fires. I just need Hans and Farah to handle the kids, and you to take care of yourself for now.”
“Coming up on Timmy.” Farah said, hitting the accelerator a bit harder.
Hans cocked his rifle, and muttered something to himself in German.
The next moment, the car stopped with a jerk, and Grandma was nowhere to be seen.
“Got it.” Ellen didn’t want to cause trouble-- and she certainly didn’t know how to use her magic (whatever it was) like Grandma clearly did. And she wasn’t exactly proficient with a gun, so she wasn’t going to jump at the chance to use one in a very real and very dangerous situation. Maybe this would be easy, like it had been with her. The other two never even had to get out of the car.
When Ellen looked next at Grandma, she had vanished. Well, that explained how she snuck up on Ellen before, and made the woman feel a bit better about being surprised by the sudden voice behind her earlier. Ellen tossed her bag in the trunk of the hatchback, and pushed her purse on the floor to make more space for the new arrival. Then, she turned her attention to the window, looking for any sign of Grandma, and Timmy.
Sure enough, Grandma appeared not long after, herding a boy - couldn’t have been more than 15 - towards the car. He was clutching his backpack in front of him, ghostly pale despite the tan of his skin, and had a bloody nose.
“Go on, get in dear.” Grandma said as the door to the back of the car opened up. “Hans, dear, ETA?”
“FOE on us, three minutes; FOE on target, six minutes. Getting reports of cops around too.”
“Super duper. Let’s rock, kiddies.” Grandma chirped as she threw herself into the car after the boy.
The boy, Timmy, looked up at Ellen.
“Uh. Hi.” He said, as his bag shifted on his lap… on it’s own.
"Hey. I'm Ellen." She held out her right hand to shake his, if he was up for it. "They rounded me up a few minutes ago. You got any tech that can access the internet? Probably best to leave it behind now." She told him the thing she probably should have been told off the bat-- oblivious to the fact that he might be a little too traumatized to be ready for information like that yet.
Whether or not he shook her hand, Ellen grabbed her purse and dug through it for a tissue a minute later. "Here, for your nose…" she explained. "Are you okay?"
“Oh, yeah, uh…” he trails off for a moment, “yeah, yeah no I’m fine, I just tripped, I’m ok. Oh shit, my phone!”
He opens his bag in a panic, reaching into it - and past a live, snow white bunny rabbit - to produce his phone, which he immediately handed to Ellen.
The bunny seemed totally nonplussed, and only paused munching on the celery that had been hastily stuffed into the bag alongside him for a second.
“That’s just Hamlet.” Timmy said without prompting, as he zipped up the bag again the the car jerked to the side as it went around a bend. “How long have you been working for the… guys?” He looked at Ellen again, gesturing around the car.
Ellen tossed the phone out the window. The wet snow outside would likely take care of both of their phones, the water damage making them useless. “Me? Just a few minutes. The driver, Farah, joined up last year, along with Oma. I think she’s like everyone’s grandma. I dunno about Hans.” She knew he didn’t have magic, but she didn’t know how long he had been working with the organization.
She didn’t ask about the bunny, and was glad she hadn’t suggested he toss the bag into the trunk like she did with hers. The car itself was getting pretty crowded, and she wasn’t entirely sure how they would fit another person in. She could offer to sit in the trunk… but these people seemed to have planned this out too well to not account for the lack of seats.
Another few minutes of driving, in a stressed, snowy silence - and they were upon location two.
A teenage girl in baggy jeans and a parka was shivering, clutching a sky blue suitcase, on the kerb of the road. She was backlit by the warm yellow of the streetlight, augmented by the glow of riot fire reflected from the cloud cover above, and as she saw the car turn onto her street her face lit up as well - with hope.
It was in that moment that everything went horrifically wrong.
Grandma suddenly moved, grabbing Ellen’s arm as her eyes went wide.
“Hans!” She shouted, her eyes glazing over - no,
icing over, with a delicate, thin layer of frost. “FOE, end of street!”
Hans swore viciously in German as he threw open the door of the moving car and began to step out, just as Farah slammed the brakes and made a turn. He slid as he hit the snow, bringing his rifle up as he slid feet first through it - just as a pair of black vans turned the corner, and started to accelerate.
The sound of the gunshot was incredible - like a savage, hateful knife in the back of quiet, and Hans kept going after the first one. Grandma was nowhere to be seen as the FOE APCs kept charging down the street, and the girl on the street looked like she was about to make a run for it.
Their second pick up was another kid. She looked freezing out there in the cold, and Ellen wondered if she was just going to crawl into their laps. When Grandma called out that the FOE was there, Ellen got the sinking feeling that this was some sort of set-up. Maybe they were using the girl as bait to catch those working for this organization.
Ellen looked over at Hans, throwing himself in harm's way, and Grandma, nowhere to be seen. She had no doubts the woman was doing whatever she could to slow down the FOE. Muttering a curse, Ellen knew she couldn’t just sit around and let...whatever was happening, happen. “Farah, I’ll go down a few blocks with the girl. Catch up with us when you can.” Ellen yelled, and then threw open the back door where Grandma had been a few moments before. She made a dash for the girl, and yelled for her to follow.
“What the fuck?! We can’t fight the-“ Farah screamed after Ellen as she ran, to no avail.
What was her name again? “Ciara! Come on!” Ellen wasn’t a runner, but adrenaline was a powerful thing. They needed to get off this street. At least she hadn’t taken off her jacket in the car. She wasn’t even cold.
“Ok!” The girl screamed, scrambling back into the alley away from the commotion. Behind them, the gunfire paused as Hans emptied his magazine and started pushing himself off the road towards cover - Farah had revved the engine and pulled a U-turn already, leaving Hans and Grandma to deal with the FOE.
The girl followed after Ellen, and they moved swiftly into the alley. She needed to get them off of the road, somewhere narrow enough where the FOE cars couldn't fit. Or hide. She turned around to see if the FOE was on them yet.
"I'm Ellen!" She shouted to the teenager. She was tempted to add that she had no idea what she was doing, but didn't think that would inspire confidence. They came out on another street, and Ellen saw what looked like another alley between two buildings on the next street.
Unfortunately for them, the passage was short. There was a business' dumpster, and a narrow path beside it that ended at a fence spanning between the buildings. "Shit." Ellen said. "How's your climbing?" She asked the girl.
“Shit, it’s shit, I’ve never even been able to climb fucking trees!” Ciara screamed, her hands covering her ears as a cacophony of gunfire erupted from Hans’ direction - far too much to simply be him shooting.
As they glanced back in the direction of the gunfire, however, they caught sight of something more immediately dangerous.
Three men, clad in black riot gear and gas masks with mirrored eyeholes, striding into the alleyway - the man in the center was wearing the iconography of the FOE.
Ellen wasn't great at climbing either. They didn't have a ton of trees in Milan. But she would have pretended and tried. When they turned around and saw a bunch of armed and armored guys, Ellen groaned. Quickly, a few options came to mind.
Pretending they weren't who these guys were after would be a waste of time. Ellen didn't exactly have heavy weapons to fight back with, though. Tips from an old self-defense against sexual assault class came to mind briefly, though they hardly seemed helpful at the moment. She could surrender. Hah. Hell no. She could pretend she was going to surrender and try to think of something better.
Maybe her elusive magic would actually do something useful for her. "Heya guys!" Ellen said, holding her hands up in the universal sign of defeat. "Turns out we are both pretty shitty climbers, so--" she rambled, looking over the men. Ellen didn't know a lot about FOE, but she knew they had some resistance to magic. And Ellen had some resistance to being murdered, so that gave her something to work with at least.
Behind her, Ciara clearly wasn't in Ellen's head, and didn't know the girl was still trying to come up with a plan to get them out of here.
“Look, just- just stay away! I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna hurt anyone! I’m not a bad person, I- I-” Ciara raised her hands, backing away.
The riot cops advanced.
As one of them drew close, and raised his baton - an ugly, shiny, metre long rod of polymers and metal, capped with solid steel - he froze.
The FOE agent’s head turned to glance at the man when he stopped - but less than a second later, he dropped his baton and started screaming, recoiling from the two women at the end of the alleyway and clutching his arm. He took one step before collapsing, a sharp, crystalline crunch emanating from his legs.
Ciara’s eyes widened in shock, and she turned to the other riot police.
“I’m sorry! I-”
The other riot cop’s entire body tensed up, and he gave a grunt of pain as he too dropped his weapon, and started reaching around the back of his neck, fumbling for something invisible - but he too, after a second, simply collapsed; though this one didn’t keep moving afterwards.
“Oh my fucking god!” screamed Ciara.
In a few moments, both of the regular cops were taken down. Ellen knew it wasn't her magic that had done it-- if for no other reason than Ciara's screams were riddled with guilt. She didn't need to feel guilty, though. These guys chose to hunt down people simply for existing.
As she tuned out the teenager, Ellen realized she wasn't cold. Not even chilly, despite the fact that it was snowing and cold outside, and two men in front of her had frozen. She looked down at her hand, which she had previously tried to keep in her warm sleeves, and saw it had taken on a grayish shiny hue. She couldn't see the rest of her body, but Ellen was sure it was everywhere. Better gray than frozen.
There was only the FOE guy left. Two on one, much better chances than they had before. The area was too narrow for them to split up and each go a different direction. Though she might have come up with a better strategy if she waited, Ellen didn't have time for that. She rushed towards the FOE agent like an American football player shouldering past the other guys as he tried to clear the path for the one carrying the ball. (Ellen had watched enough American football to get the gist, but not enough to understand the position names.) In this case, Ciara was the ball.
It was exactly the kind of brave that gets called foolish in retrospect.
As Ellen’s shoulder was about to meet the FOE agent, they reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, clamping down with a vice-like grip. Ellen’s skin began to burn under the FOE agent’s gloves, stinging like she was being bathed in bleach - and as the black-clad agent slid their baton under Ellen’s arm like a lever, the oily-grey seal skin simply came away like dirt, revealing red-raw human skin under it.
“You
fucking vermin!” roared a woman’s voice from behind the gas mask.
There was a gross, dull pop as the FOE agent pushed on their lever and threw Ellen over their suddenly outstretched leg, pulling her shoulder out of joint and flinging her body into the mud like a discarded doll.
Ellen should have expected the FOE agent to grab her, to clearly be trained in grappling and combat. But she wasn't lamenting her poor choice in trying to attack the agent. Instead, she let out a scream as her skin began to burn, and the outer layer of skin pulled away from the layer beneath. She tried to reach out with her free hand to challenge the FOE agent's vice-like grip on her. It was in vain, and after just a few moments, Ellen felt a sharp pain as her arm was pulled out of its socket.
Ellen landed in the muddy ground, and groaned as she shifted her good arm under her to try to get back onto her feet. She really wanted to come up with something clever to say in response to the cunt. But her mind was just filled with pulsing pain instead.
Come on, get your ass up. Ellen told herself, shifting her weight onto her good limbs. Hopefully Ciara was smart enough to take advantage of Ellen's --completely "intentional"-- distraction.
Ciara did try to run - but the FOE agent saw it coming, and she planted a kick square in the centre of Ciara’s chest, sending her flying back into the dumpster with a pathetic yelp.
“You
demons! You fucking
rats!” The agent screamed, swinging her baton back down towards Ellen, her attention divided between the two of them.
Nothing about this was going to get any easier by waiting. Which seemed the be Ellen's mantra for the moment. She heard the thud and yelp as Ciara was blocked from leaving, and the agent again screamed at them. Jerking her head up towards the FOE agent, Ellen saw the baton about to come down again.
She felt the muddy ground beneath her fingers, knowing it was wet but not feeling the wet or the cold through her strange second skin. She knew she could make it more wet. She could make it slippery-- she didn't know how, but she knew that she could. And so she did.
She reached out with her good hand and grabbed the agent's leg pulling hard. As she only had one hand for her own balance, her weight shifted and pulled hopefully both of them down to the muddy ground.
The Agent slipped and fell backwards, missing her baton strike - but she lashed out with the foot that Ellen had grabbed as she fell, hitting her in the stomach.
Ellen landed on her side, the FOE woman's boot still beside her stomach. Her good arm was under her body, and she quickly planted it in the mud to get up to her feet. She only had moments before this psycho would be trying to hit her again--or drawing her gun.
Ellen thought about trying to grab the woman's gun for a moment, but she didn't have enough hands for that. Instead, she turned and kicked the agent's leg-- not so much to try to hurt her as to push herself away. She scrambled backwards and then grabbed the side of the dumpster to push herself up. If Ciara hadn't moved by now, Ellen was going to leave her ass here.
Ciara looked up at Ellen, and started to try and get up - but it was like watching a foal scramble for their life away from a wolf, not like a person trying to stand.
“Fuuugh.” She slurred. As her head lilted forwards drunkenly, Ellen caught sight of the cause - a dark, wet, bloody mess on dumpster’s edge. Ciara got to her feet- but slowly, and brokenly.
Meanwhile, the FOE agent gave a grim chuckle, hand on the grip of her pistol.
“I’m gonna like this a lot.” She snarled, punctuated by the click of the safety coming off.
Ciara was not faring well, and Ellen was struggling to pull herself up to a standing position with her one good hand. If the other woman wasn't armed, and there wasn't a teenager looking like she was suffering from a concussion, Ellen might have tried to make a run for it. But she couldn't do nothing…
"I am so. Glad. I. Could make. Your day." Ellen said, her words slowed by her need to breathe a lot more than she expected for just talking. The sarcasm, she hoped, was intact.
Oh right. It was all the near dying that happened just moments ago.
She wasn't bulletproof, at least, she was pretty sure she wasn't. But when the FOE agent wasn't using her gun, Ellen hadn't been THAT bad off. Well… it was her only idea.
"Does it make you. Feel powerful? Killing us with. A gun?" Ellen gestured with her head towards Ciara. "She's a kid. Such a threat."
“It’s not about power.” She shook her head, raising the gun - and then tensing, turning, body wracked with shock as she heard the footsteps from behind her just half a second too late.
The gun went off once, twice, as she turned, and Hans flew into her. Her pistol went clattering off a wall as the force of his impact knocked it clean out of her hand, discharging a third time as it hit the wall, then hitting the thin black mud of the alley with a wet squelch.
Hans screamed unintelligibly in German as he tried to bring a knife down on the FOE agent - but she caught his wrist, and punched him solidly in the ribs, screaming right back at him. His outfit, until then a disrupted mess of grey and white, was disturbingly red around his stomach and his left leg - and his gun was totally missing - but for what it was worth, he was putting up an about-equal fight.
Ciara dumbly reached out and grabbed ahold of Ellen’s fucked up arm. For a second there was the sharp pain of a dislocated joint being yanked on - but then, immediately following it, there was a frosty, numb sensation… accompanied by a return of function.
“Fukkem.” Ciara leaned her head back again, closing her eyes.
Ellen gasped in pain as Ciara pulled her arm. The pain dulled quickly, though, and Ellen could move her arm again. Ciara looked like she would have to be carried out of here. And Hans… he was grappling with the FOE agent, and Ellen was sure she saw blood on his clothing.
She could run for it. She could grab Ciara and try to get out of there. Or… Ciara was right. Fuck 'em. The average person probably wouldn't be taking advice from a teenager with a head injury, but today was far from average.
She couldn't leave them behind. Ellen looked around for FOE agent's gun. She had heard it clatter to the ground when Hans arrived. She spotted it after a few moments, and wasted no time grabbing it for herself. Having never fired a gun, Ellen probably wasn't the best person to have the weapon, but she knew which end needed to be aimed at the FOE agent, and she was pretty sure the safety was off, since it had just been fired.
It was now or never.
Ellen aimed at the woman and fired the gun once. The recoil threw her arms up further than she expected, and she watched the scene for a moment before potentially unloading the remaining ammunition.
The bullet hit her in the shoulder - but, in a stroke of luck, that shoulder had an arm attached to it, and that arm was responsible for stopping her being fatally stabbed.
Hans brought the knife down, pushing through the last shreds of strength in the woman’s arm and plunging it into her chest. Then he pulled it out, and stabbed her again. This action was repeated six more times, shrieks of pain giving way to groans, then to a sort of sick wheezing, then to nothing at all.
As he finally retrieved the knife from her body for the last time, Hans wiped it on her vest, and flopped down off of her into the mud as well. He took a second before standing up, hands shaking and limbs weak. It didn’t look like all of the blood on him was his, but some of it definitely was - and it was spreading, too.
“We need to leave.” He spat in German, looking down at the three bodies in the alley with something deeper and heavier than contempt. “Can you carry her?” He said through hoarse, ragged breaths, in English this time, as he winced and grabbed at the wound - or wounds - perforating his leg.
Ellen watched as Hans stabbed the woman repeatedly. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. What if Hans fell, or the stabbing failed, or she got the upper hand? Hans had come back for Ellen and Ciara. It was the least he could do to “cover” him.
The gun shook in her hand a bit, but she kept it steady until the woman was on the ground, umoving. She nodded at his words in German. He was right, they needed to leave. Ellen’s gaze fell upon Hans’ leg, and she nodded. “Yea, I’ll manage.” Ellen replied. She didn’t want to put down the gun, though, so she handed it to Hans and then went over to Ciara and pulled her up. “Come on, Ciara.” She said softly. “You’re going to be okay.” With that, Ellen followed Hans out of the alley, hoping their ride hadn’t left (or been taken down by the rest of the FOE).
Ciara took a while to wake up - and even then, she wasn’t exactly present - but she was up and walking with Ellen’s support before long had passed. Hans went ahead, having taken the pistol off of Ellen and checked the magazine before she’d tried picking Ciara up, and despite the various thorns in their side and the pins in their heels, they eventually made it to a beat up looking hatchback with an old woman leaning on the hood.
“Oh, Hans, dear, what in the world happened to you?” Grandma said, looking up but not quite in their direction. Her eyes were grey, covered over with white film where they hadn’t been before - and her hands were covered in tiny fragments of ice at the joints.
“Got shot, Oma. But I shot back, and I shot better.”
Grandma nodded.
“Sticks and stones, dear, sticks and stones. Farah, would you be a sweetheart and get in the back with Hans so that he doesn’t bleed to death? Oh, and Ellen, can you drive?”
“Sure, Grandma.” Ellen answered. She reached out to her injured left arm, but it was still comfortably numb. Thanks to Ciara. The car was an automatic, thankfully, and Ellen barely needed both hands to drive. She slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rear view as Farah got in the back. It was a tight fit, but once they were all safely in the car, Ellen drove. Her first objective was getting out of the town. She drove, listening to instructions from Grandma if she gave any warnings or updates. She stayed quiet, though. Today had been… a day of Fucking First Times, and the sun hadn’t even risen yet. On the bright side, they weren’t dead, yet. The edge of Ellen’s lip curled a little--a small grin.
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