Pascal

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

Angeline had no experience, which hardly surprised Ellen. The girl looked like she was trying to avoid being physically sick when she first came upon the injured man before. She didn’t have any experience thus far, and Ellen raised her brow skeptically as Angeline said she could learn. It wasn’t exactly the best time to learn how to use a weapon, especially with their limited ammunition.

Ellen settled in the van and listened as Angeline told her she didn’t have much she could contribute to this...whatever this was going to be. “Patching us up is probably the most important thing you could do.” Ellen chuckled lightly.

She totally understood Angeline’s concern about Imposter Syndrome, though. None of them really had enough experience to embark upon this mission. Regardless of their experience and particular magic abilities, though, they were here, and the people in Goodnight needed this medication.

“A ballerina, that makes sense.” Ellen said after stifling back a chuckle with the ‘slip’ regarding the features of their transport. “I would have guessed gymnast, but I supposed both make you pretty agile, and dedicated.” Ellen recalled watching the woman stretch and do yoga poses some of the days at Goodnight.

“I...actually spent the last few years working on a crab fishing boat. You know, like those Deadliest Catch-type of shows.” Ellen explained. “It was a little dangerous, but not nearly as dramatic as it was made out to be. I did get this nasty scar one time, though.” Ellen held up her left arm, where a nearly twelve cm scar went down the length of her forearm.

A taut cord snapped and struck her on the arm. It would have been her face, had she reacted a bit slower. “It wasn’t exactly what I dreamed of as a kid, but...life threw me a few curveballs even before this, so I’m used to adapting and going with the flow.”

Angeline’s face lit up at the mention of ‘Deadliest catch’ “Ah- I used to love watching those shows with my mum!” She sounded excited, though the scar did somber her a little “I guess that’s why they call it uh - ‘deadliest’ huh?” She didn’t want to comment too harshly, she could only imagine the state she’d have been in after the accident. “Sounds so adventurous… I mean even though this is totally different you must be a little in your element.” She commented, though in her head she had Ellen paged as this swashbuckling rugged fisherman type although wildly inaccurate. “You know… Unpredictable nature of the sea and whatnot. I got to admit, shamefully, the hardest thing to give up was my nice double bed with fluffy blankets and soft pillows.” she laughed, she didn’t seem at all ashamed of missing the finer things in life, though. The sleeping bag on the hard floor was a harsh wake-up call, or… Bed-time call for her.

“And - well as far as what we’re about to do… I guess like you said just got to ‘adapt and go with the flow’ I’m not entirely sure what I can do to help but there are people back in goodnight who need these supplies and well any good person would try their best to help.” She laughed, though the twinge of nerve was notable in her voice. Her experience so far with violence was rocky at best and downright catastrophic at worst, and she wasn’t eager to face any more of it any time soon. “I mean I’ve seen Mark in action, he saved my life once before. Not that I want him to do it again, wayyy too much pressure for one man but you know, good to know we’re not alone. And you seem to know that Hans guy, they both seem pretty ‘well-versed’ in this kind of thing, you know?” she had lowered her voice to talk about them, almost conspiratorially.

"Hans… has a great balance between thinking and doing. Whereas I think I definitely am a do-first, think about it maybe after, kind of person." Hans had also saved her life, after she recklessly put herself into danger.

"I think what I miss most is…" sex. Could she say sex? Ellen looked to where Abigail was nursing her injured hand, and had the sudden urge to be a bit more G- rated. Maybe she could go more vague and just mention the eye candy. Strong, confident types were definitely better than scared injured folks back at Goodnight.

"Probably the company. You know, drinking, playing games, hanging out with friends." Company and companionship, sort of lumped it all together.

"So what do you do, other than shove plants in open wounds to heal them?" Ellen asked. She wasn't trying to be rude, she was just curious and wanted to make conversation.

Angeline nodded understandingly “Yeah it’s odd for now but who knows maybe things can become more normal in the future? Life is what we make of it and whatnot, no need to say that those kinds of things can’t happen here in our life now… It’ll just be a little different from how we expected it to be?” She suggested. She did want similar things too, just an ounce of normality. Goodnight was a pretty bleak environment and while she did her best to try and keep things how they were, her yoga, dance practices and the like it was all bound to be different from how it was.

“What can I do? Well… Aside from that, I can make a little water in my hands? And…. Go blind, apparently.” She laughed, recalling her experience earlier. “I think it shows me certain types of plants… Or something like that? But I can’t see anything else, and since I was inside a house there weren’t many plants to see so yeah not sure how useful it will be but a very jarring experience nonetheless.” She snickered again, such an odd sounding ‘power’. “And yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen first hand anything you can do yet, though I guess that’s a good thing that we haven’t been in enough danger to need it.”

Different than they expected was probably a huge understatement for most of the people who had awoken to their new powers. Ellen felt...like she had always known this was coming, and was waiting for it for the last few years, but she figured she was an outlier for having such a mindset.

She listened as Angeline explained she could create water, and have some sort of plant-vision. “Interesting, though. And we are in the desert, I feel like creating water could come in handy in a variety of ways.” Ellen offered. “Is it like, a geyser of water, or a stream, and can you control how much?” She asked curiously.

“Hmmm well I haven’t had much practice with it, it’s probably closer to a stream. I think a geyser could be pretty extreme as I’m fairly certain it comes from like somewhere inside me? So I can get dehydration headaches if I use a lot of it…” She grimaced, the water was always clear and as far as she was aware it was fine to drink but… Body-water… Gross. “I guess if people really need it, it can come in handy.” She agreed, hesitantly.

“Huh, Interesting.” Ellen replied, thinking about the water coming from her body. If she had like, a hand in a river, could she absorb it too, and then shoot it out of her other hand at someone? Or if it was pure water, could she filter out pollutants and stuff? Ellen had tons of questions, and thought it was mildly amusing how much more interested she was when it was someone else’s ability, compared to hers.

Probably a coping mechanism, degrees of separation, sort of thing.

“So I can make my body really slippery, I think it is also a water thing, but it doesn’t make me dehydrated. I think the water comes from like… evaporated water in the air around me. I can also turn my hands into this really fucking trippy crab claws.” She mimed the way her fingers sort of molded together to make a claw with one hand and a pincher with the other. “When it is really cold outside, I get a second layer of skin that keeps me from feeling the effects of the cold, like a blubber. Not super helpful in the desert though. I can turn glass into sand, and I can sort of create a hologram version of myself and control that while my body stays in a different spot.” There was something she had recently fiddled with regarding plants, but Ellen didn’t quite understand that one enough yet.

“Basically, I turn into a bizarre sea creature fit for an episode of Scooby Doo.” Ellen grinned again, preferring to find the whole scenario amusing, rather than slightly horrific.

Angie was definitely taken aback, letting out a quiet “Woah-” before catching herself. “Ah, sorry not sure on the whole etiquette about talking about other people’s powers, just sounds very…” She trailed off, unsure exactly how she felt, was the transformation gruesome and ugly? Were they fleshy claws or normal hard claws… Was it impolite to ask? “Oh- I mean very varied.” She finally settled on a neutral term. “Mine all feel quite samey aha but you’ve got all these interesting and unique abilities, should I be jealous?” she queried, chuckling afterwards, what an absurd thing to be jealous of.

“That hologram one sounds like it’ll be useful in a pinch-” she cut off, the totally unintentional crab pun causing her to laugh “Sorry, I mean for this little mission of ours, nice way to scope an area out without giving me extra work afterwards, don’t you think?” She suggested, although she felt very smart thinking of the idea she was sure Ellen had probably already considered that being a very likely possibility. “How long can you be a hologram for, anyways? Is there any like… Distance cap or something? Can’t be too far away to your real body? And what happens to your body, do you pass out or something?” She laughed again, guess the curiosities of learning things about different powers to your own just brings on a whole host of questions, just as she herself was asked many questions, she had many to ask of Ellen.

“I would have gone with Gross.” Ellen replied when Angeline tactfully tried to call it ‘varied.’ There were a variety of things, but they came together to make her into a rather terrifying sea beast--at least, she imagined they would if she tried to use them all at once.

Ellen caught onto the crab pun a moment after Angeline and laughed as well. Why not go into almost certain death with a pun and a chuckle?

“But yea, I totally agree. If I can ever stop myself from running into the line of fire like an idiot, I think the hologram thing will be great, especially for sneaking around and checking things out. Still… not super helpful in a car.” None of her skills were particularly useful when they were actually in this van, as she doubted she was going to get into melee combat with someone in the Billy Bus. Thus, she hoped they were able to track these thieves to their hideout and then do some sneaking when they got there.

As for Angeline’s questions, Ellen didn’t mind them, but she didn’t have a lot of the answers, yet. “At Goodnight, I practiced the hologram thing for a minute or two. I was definitely able to go like… around corners and into rooms that my body couldn’t have seen. When I looked back at myself, I am just sort of sitting in a sort of ‘trance’ state. Man, if we get back, we should have you like… jab me while I’m doing it so I can figure out if I can still feel things going on to my actual body when I’m doing this.” Ellen mused aloud. They might get the chance on this mission, but now probably wasn’t the ideal time for testing what she was capable of.

“I haven’t figured out the downside of that one yet. Other than maybe I am still visible, so it isn’t like I can really be super sneaky.” Ellen voiced. So far she had learned that all of their abilities came at a price. That one, though, she hadn’t quite figured out.

“We don’t know how this is going to go so I guess we’ll have to make do with what little firepower we have.” She was subtly referring to the guns, even though she paled at the thought of using one herself. “Definitely a good idea to practice somewhere safe and out of the way of danger.. I.E. not here. I should hope no one tries anything they don’t already know, we’re already in enough trouble as it is.” Angeline readjusted her position and looked at the others nervously. It wasn’t a warning per se as she assumed everyone would be sensible, but…

She dropped her voice to a whisper “Speaking of, surely it’s not very smart to bring…” She trailed off but gestured with a flick of her eyes towards Abigail. “I mean- not to underestimate her or anything but she’s already injured, and she’s young I can’t imagine how traumatising this might be for her… And I heard she and the other girl had a spat as well…” All signs pointed to BAD IDEA in Angeline’s mind and she couldn’t shake the moral force driving her to have her sent back with the other injured man…

Ellen hardly thought they would get anywhere if they could only do things they already knew. If Ellen stuck to that mantra, she definitely wouldn’t have gotten out of her first mess. Angeline then whispered her concerns about Abigail being there. “I don’t like her being here, either. I thought Brooks was bringing her to get picked up earlier. Maybe they had a talk… Maybe she is really fucking strong. I don’t know. And it really isn’t our call. I’m sure if the kid wanted to leave, she would have.”

"Well hi there, Angie!" Mark gave her a sly wink as he tucked his own weapon into the waistband of his trousers - to the obvious horror of Hans.

"Mark…"

"What? What? Relax, Hans, the safety's on."

Hans sighed, and gave Ellen a look.

Mark turned back to the two ladies.

"Excitin', huh? Bein' on task like this. Been cooped up in either Goodnight or my apartment way too much recently, happy to get back into the shit. Plus I ain't never been to Australia."

“Hans just doesn't want you to waste our ammunition.” She left unsaid the rest of her thoughts, that he probably didn’t have much down there to shoot off anyway. Overcompensating much? Ellen grinned at the obviously delinquent man in front of her. “I’m Ellen.” She introduced herself.

Angeline didn’t really know how to react so just waved back at him with a little “Hi, are you well?” She didn’t talk to him much in her extraction, and it hardly shone her in a good light anyways. “Ready to go?” She asked him, but also everyone else. No point waiting on things for much longer… “If everyone’s in the van that is..”

Ellen nodded to the ballerina. She was eager to get things started. Had she been driving the Billy Bus, they would have left ages ago... for better or worse.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

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 had 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 cream of the crop.

“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 do. 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 person 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.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

"Yea, we understand." Ellen replied. "For now, you enjoy the view-- dirty old man." She grinned playfully, but her mind was already moving onto the next thing.

Ellen reached into her back pocket for her phone, but felt nothing, of course. She had lost track of the number of times she had reached for her phone over the last few weeks-- especially those first few days-- only to have a jarring reminder that didn't have a life like that anymore. She couldn't just idly check the time (seriously, she never would have guessed she would have craved an actual watch in her adult life) or play a game, or look through old pictures. And right now, she couldn't call or text anyone. But someone else on their team could.

Was the ragtag team really trained well-enough and comfortable enough with their powers to track down the agents who stole the medicine they needed? Did they even have the right sort of abilities for a case like this? Ellen, for one, felt unprepared for such a venture. But hey, fake it till you make it, right?

With an intensifying case of imposter syndrome bubbling beneath the surface, Ellen moved her remaining hand from the compress, pushing off the floor to stand. Her hand left a bloody print on the floor, and she needed to at least wipe off some of the excess. Looking around, her gaze settled on the sink.

Fortunately, the water turned on. It wasn't the most pleasant in color, and the pipes let out a nasty groan as some water-like liquid came trickling out. She followed up with a towel, wiping her hands as she exited the room.

The phone was with Brooks, or Billy, or someone like that. She wondered if there was any way to get like… satellite (or magic insight) information on exactly how far away and in which direction these baddies were. Could she ask in a straight-forward manner, or did she need to use something coded? Someone else probably knew…

Ellen rounded up the others as she moved back to the billy bus, unless they chose to stay behind with the man bleeding out, or were otherwise preoccupied. Reaching the bus, she found Billy, and Abi, who already looked hurt. Had she found the agents? Since they were just sitting around, she didn't think so. "You okay?" Ellen asked her.

She gave the girl a few moments to reply before jumping into a debrief/consultation. "There is a guy inside still alive. Angeline did what she could for him but we need to reach out to Goodnight and let them know that this has all gone sideways. See if they can offer any insight for how we catch up to the supplies and get them back. Unless any of you have skills useful for tracking."

Ellen reached out for the phone, and thought for a few moments before she began to compose the message, ”Will be late to the cookout. Can't find the cooler. Maybe it's in the car? Will keep looking. Any ideas?”

Ellen sent the message and then looked at the screen for a few more moments before Swyping another message. ”Oh, and the hot dogs got wrecked on the trip. I think you can save one...maybe? But gotta act fast! I'll leave it in the kitchen for you :)”

Almost immediately there came a reply.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Maybe a coded message was a bad idea. Someone really should have asked more questions before they started this mission. Ellen looked down at the phone with a frown. Despite the danger in beating around the bush, Ellen felt more compelled than before to keep moving with the extended cookout metaphor.

”Sheesh. You don't HAVE to, I guess. He is Drowning in ketchup at this point. Hope you've got more beer, though. Cuz we're not getting any more moonshine outta this joint.”

Maybe a pronoun, an implication of heavy bleeding, plus a direct reference to the boot letter position would be enough. Of not, she couldn't be blamed for the denseness.

“R U trying 2 talk in Code?”

Fine. Screw being subtle. Ellen was TRYING to keep things on the DL, but someone at Goodnight was just being thick on purpose. "Yes. The bootleggers were attacked before we got here. One is still alive and has a lot of internal bleeding. The medicine is gone but we are going after it." If they weren't being so dense, she wouldn't have had to send so many messages.

"Hlyshit ok hng on, Ill see what can do to help."

About half a minute, maybe less, passed. It felt like an hour.

"Move him to basement. Doctor standby. Reinforcements coming."

Ellen looked up at the group, who may or may not have been arguing about just burning or offing the man to make it easier for them to go on with their day. She hadn’t really been listening to them, since her focus had been on tapping the letters on the nokia’s old keyboard so many times to get each individual letter. She didn’t answer the last text, but instead spoke up to the group.

“Goodnight wants us to move him to the basement. I think they are sending a doctor. They said reinforcements are coming, but I am not sure if that is help for us or help for him. Either way, we can’t afford to waste too much time before we go after them. I guess… if anyone doesn’t want to, they can hang out in the basement and hitch a ride back instead.” She offered an out since things were certainly going to get more difficult. And maybe Abi wanted to return to get medical care since she managed to injure herself.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

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. And they could need medical help. 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. Or they were being chased and decided against throwing their body against the frame of a door that already had holes 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 cover me?. 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.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

The “travel” to the Outback was uncomfortable, but familiar. Their new location, however, was not.

It became painfully obvious to Ellen, and others who could see out the windows, that there were bodies just outside of their point of arrival. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Billy cursed, and Ellen closed her eyes for a few moments, processing the deaths and changes in plans as quickly as she could. Whatever happened to these people was not something she wanted to happen to herself, or the other folks on the bus--which meant she needed to get over this quickly and move on.

Ellen turned around as Abigail asked if they were dead, her internal concentration broken. The girl had her arm shoved beneath her armpit. She almost snapped at the girl a sarcastic remark about them just using blood-letting as an extreme weight-loss strategy, but she saw the girl doubled over already, and refrained. “I think so.” She said instead, trying to be a bit more… compassionate towards the teenager.

Abigail then tried to align herself with Angeline, the healer. Smart move, and one Ellen had definitely thought about when they were first briefed as well. By the faint smell of burned flesh, though, Ellen figured Abigail likely needed Angeline already, so it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to keep them together.

Ellen turned around in the seat once more, looking out the window as Brooks took charge from the front. He started assigning everyone jobs, and Ellen breathed a sigh of relief. Not only because she was going to be with the really strong guy, but also just because she was given something to do that seemed...manageable. Clear the building. It would have been better if she had a gun but at least she could...Well, she would figure out something.

“Got it.” Ellen said immediately, pulling her hair into a quick ponytail so it was out of her face. There were supposed to be two more people here they were intended to meet, so perhaps they had run off when the group was attacked and were hiding somewhere. Or quite possibly, they were murdered, their bodies left in a gruesome display, and all of the medical supplies destroyed.. She opened her door and climbed out, following Brooks towards the larger building. She was grateful he had the pistol, and wondered if she should keep her ‘body’ in the car and just go out as eyes, but decided against it for now. She would be able to do more to help Brooks and the other guys if she was actually there.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

Ellen watched as people climbed into the death-trap that was supposed to bring them safely to the supply drop. She didn’t have the reverence Abigail did, or the confidence Matthew did, but wasn’t going to let that stop her from getting in it. After all, the strange contraption on wheels was just...the physical representation of how fucked their whole situation was. They could keep patching themselves together, but they weren’t going to ever just be able to go to a store and buy something new and completely functional. Ellen had run before. She had picked up a bag, walked out the door, and resolved to never return. But this was different. The van reminded her that she couldn’t just change her mind and go back...not that there was anyone waiting for her anyway.

She looked down at her wrist, outlining the tattoo for a few moments before she followed Matthew into the van and took one of the open seats. There was no one to go back to, but there were people to look forward to, at least.

Ellen turned her head as she looked over the other folks already seated. Abigail was drawing… a boob? No… probably a sun… Matthew seemed comfortable, Angeline looked like she would have doused herself in hand sanitizer if it had been presented as an option, and the other woman… what the hell was her name? Was smoking a cigarette. She had made some sort of negative comments about their transport earlier, but Ellen didn’t recognize the words, which supported the assumptions she had made thus far about the woman.

“Hey, I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name before…” Ellen said to her when she caught the brunette’s gaze. “I’m Ellen, and you are…?” She asked. She had figured out everyone else’s names but hers, and figured it was good to know, since they were going to be working together on this mission.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

Ellen cackled at the suggestion of her taking charge. She was a bit surprised it came from the kid. Ellen looked over at the girl, tilting her head a bit at the teenager’s accent. It wasn’t something she had heard before in person, though she had definitely heard such a drawl from some American programs--and other programs making fun of American’s. She hadn’t thought the girl would have such a voice, and found it mildly amusing how she had built a very different voice in her head from running silently alongside the kid.

As if Abigail heard Ellen’s silent musings about her being quite a stereotype, the girl patted her back, rambled a bit about sunsabitches, shot mock guns at them, and literally ran away. Ellen blinked a few times, mouth agape in confusion, before she turned back to the group. “Ookkkkayyyy then.” She said.

The other individuals replied to the scenario much more calmly. The prim and proper one asked why they were bringing a kid along. Ellen wouldn’t have questioned the idea of bringing a kid, figuring she was powerful, and knowing her age played no factor in how big of a target was on her back. However, after hearing Abigail’s actual thoughts voiced….Ellen did wonder why they thought this particular kid was a good addition to the group.

The prim one, Angeline, fidgeted enough to make it clear she had no desire to make decisions, and most important, revealed she was the healer Simon had mentioned before. Ellen knew she wanted to put herself close to this woman, or at least make sure Angeline liked her enough to not leave her for dead if when this all went sideways.

An older guy, grizzled and clearly in-the-know, answered a few of Ellen’s questions. She immediately decided he would probably be in charge. He suggested they rely on instinct, which was something Ellen could absolutely do. It might not work out the best for everyone, but she was damn good at doing something when things went wrong.

The one who looked well-traveled but had only spoken a word before said a good bit more about the dangers of the Australian outback unrelated to the FOE (Or Australia’s equivalent). Ellen found it pretty interesting that she had no idea where the woman was from. She wasn’t a whiz with accents, but Ellen was usually pretty good at getting an idea of where someone had spent a lot of time. Hell, maybe the woman was actually a traveller.

The only one who had revealed her usefulness so far was Angeline, but Ellen imagined the rest of them had something to bring to the table. She already knew what the sexy rock guy could do, but she filed his name away when he offered it.

As the brunette finished up (Ellen hadn’t caught her name yet), Ellen chimed in again. “Me either. I’m all in for...whatever we need to do.” She waved her hand at the table. “I’m Ellen, and in terms of usefulness, I’d probably be better as a lookout than loading things. I’m not particularly strong, but I can be in the truck and have my eyes somewhere else, looking out for trouble. The kid who ran off, I don’t know her name or her magic, but she is damn fast. She could probably take another lookout position, and just high-tail it back to the truck.” She had heard some rumors about the kid, but she was sure they were the same ones everyone else had heard.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

The rest of the folks agreed to help out, though Ellen got the impression that not everyone was quite as eager as she was to get out and do something. The runner kid, Abi, actually ran off for a while and then came back to announce that she would join. The guy in charge, Simon, showed them the map of a desert, explaining that they would be in some guy named Billy’s van, going to meet other people with supplies including insulin. Simon recommended some of them watch and others load, then they would return when they were done.

Ellen wasn’t a leader, so she looked around the room, waiting for someone to step up and take control of this conversation. Her gaze drifted quickly over Abi, knowing the kid wasn’t going to be of much use for her brain. She could run like hell, though, and as far as Ellen could tell, that wasn’t even part of her magic use. One woman didn’t seem very talkative. The girl obsessed with makeup and stretching had seemed hesitant about being involved at all. Ellen didn’t like the idea of assuming the boys would be more capable of taking a leadership role because of their gender, but rock-man looked like he might have been one of the older ones in their group. The other guy seemed eager, but something about his gaze didn't scream confidence.

"Seriously, none of you have questions?" Ellen asked with a bit of exasperation. Perhaps she hadn't given them enough time. Waiting wasn't her forte. In any case, she turned to Simon and addressed him first.

"You've arranged for other supply pick ups. When they've encountered FOE, what has been their method of attack? Are we looking out for them to drop bombs over the desert? Are they likely to come barreling in with trucks and heavy weaponry? And if we get the supplies and run, can we open a way back that won't allow them to follow us through or do we need to eliminate any threat rather than just get away?" Ellen had lots of questions. She looked down at the map, wondering if they would be first to arrive at the spot, and have time to spread out and plant a few people around, or if the bootleggers were expected to already be at the rendezvous.

"You asked for us specifically as a group so you know what all of us can do." She paused, turning to the group for a moment Adam aside, "We should probably do a quick chat on the way of what we can do that will be useful in this. And then use that info to divy up who should load and who should watch." For her own usefulness she could probably use her seeing double to plant a set of eyes far away without having to actually leave the group with her body. Abi was fast enough to likely take watch from another vantage point and then just high tail it if she needed to. But if they had super hearing, or astral projection or something, they could probably be a lot more useful than Ellen as lookout. She didn't mind just being muscle, if that was what she was best for.

Turning back to Simon, Ellen finished her question, her thoughts having derailed a bit trying to once again figure out everyone's magic. "Who should take the lead with making decisions out there?" Ellen asked. They needed someone in charge. Last time no one told Ellen specifically to stay in the car, she went a big rogue and pulled some dangerous (but effective) stunts.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

Weeks passed. They were mostly boring, which Ellen supposed she couldn’t really complain about. Being bored was better than being dead. Her arm was fully healed up, and so were the other smaller injuries she had sustained when fighting the FOE agent.

Ellen checked on Ciara a few times, but once the girl's head felt better, she didn't want anything to do with Ellen. Ellen got the impression the younger girl just wanted to forget everything about that night, and seeing Ellen reminded her of what they had done. Ellen took the hint and stayed away after that.

She learned more about her magic, finding out that she had a few other abilities she hadn't learned about the night she woke. After practicing with her second skin, Ellen found her need to shower grew exponentially, and she had to wash the bits of blubber out of her clothes a frustrating number of times. The first time her crab claw emerged, Ellen screamed and flailed her arms around. Her larger claw smashed into a table and broke it. With some practice, she found that the little crab pincers she gained on the other hand could crack a walnut with ease. She debated thinking of this new ability as The Nutcracker, but ultimately decided if she wanted to ever get laid again, she couldn't refer to her hands as nutcrackers.

Other than turning herself into an amalgam of slippery aquatic creatures (like an evil villain version of Aquaman), Ellen could turn glass into sand, but it gave her headaches to do so. She could also make a sort of… double of herself in a different place, but it was very hard to concentrate on both herself and this other form. It was an eerie reminder of her sister, and it made her uncomfortable to use for multiple reasons. The last one she was starting to get a handle on has something to do with oxygen and plants. She knew she could take oxygen from one area where there were plants and redirect it to herself. She hadn't tried it yet, but she was very curious about whether she could go full Ursula's mutant cousin and make an air-bubble for herself to breathe underwater. For now, the skill hardly seemed useful because breathing extra air made her feel a bit woozy.

She found herself a bit annoyed that she turned into a Scooby-Doo villain style blubbery slippery crab creature while some people turned into sexy muscled rock-men. But she was glad at least to have the time to learn these things about herself. The next time she faced an FOE agent, she wouldn't be nearly so defenseless.

Ellen didn't only work on her magic (and laundry) during the two weeks off. Once her body was healed enough, she went for runs around Goodnight. She joined a scrawny teenager who could easily out-last and out-pace her, but Ellen wasn't competitive enough feel dissuaded from running just because she was losing. It was nice to ignore the people fighting like they were on a reality show, and listen instead to the sounds of shoes hitting the tile and concrete floor, and the steady breathing that punctuated each handful of steps.

In truth, Ellen didn't know what she was waiting for. She knew she wanted to help with the underground, and she knew she had made that damn clear to Hans before he left for… getting back to his normal life, or whatever. But would she have to wait a year to do something useful? Ellen wanted to believe she had the dedication and patience to wait, but she also knew she would turn into one of the over-dramatic bickering 'Survivor' folks if they didn't give her something to do soon. Maybe she could find someone and ask about weapons training. Shooting a gun the first time hadn't been awful but it certainly could have gone better.

As excited as Ellen was to be summoned on the 20th, Ellen was NOT a morning person. On the boats, she was always up before the sun, which made it easier to pretend she was just getting up very late rather than very early. Like her first morning at Goodnight, she barely pulled herself together. She was still in the leggings and racer-back top she had slept in, and her hair was pulled up in a somewhat disheveled ponytail as she walked to the office. Ellen wiped some of the sleep out of her bleary eyes and then replaced her glasses as she entered the room.

Immediately she spied the coffee urns and went over to help herself. She poured two cups and carried both over to the map where people were gathered. One mug she left on the table and the other she used to warm her hands, taking large sips as she forced herself awake.

The man in charge looked to be Ellen's age. He was cute, but she didn't love the whole, 'I have so much responsibility I don't take care of myself and need someone else to take care of me' vibe he was putting off. There were other people assembled around the room, most of whom Ellen didn’t know personally, but had seen around, like the teenage runner--Abi, and rock-man.

Simon began to talk about their accomplishments, and Ellen looked around, wondering who fought street art (and how it came alive), and who healed flesh. The latter, at least, sounded really useful to have around, and Ellen secretly hoped that if they were paired off, she got to be partnered with the healer. She had always played tanks in video games, and felt like healers were the next most important ones to have around.

Simon then revealed that they were having a lot of losses, casualties. Ellen switched her empty cup with the full one around the same time Simon had his cup refilled, and started to bring it to her lips as he uttered the word ‘Volunteering.’

“Yes!” Ellen interrupted, pausing the mug in the air. “I am in. Absolutely in.” She noticed a few people looking at her, and her face flushed, looking into the coffee mug as she cleared her throat. “Ahem, Sorry. Continue.”

When Simon actually finished speaking, Ellen eagerly gave him a nod. “Like I said, I’m in.” She repeated. Then she looked at the others in the room, curious if any of them would decline. Abigail was young, but she could tell the girl was trying desperately to run away, and would probably throw herself into action to try to keep running. She didn’t blame the kid. Ellen looked down at the half of the yin yang tattoo on her right wrist, the constant reminder that she was always running, too.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate [Currently Accepting!]

Ellen Taylor

The rest of the drive was easier. Not easy by any means, but easier. When they got out of the town and the urgency passed, Ellen called out that she had the bright yellow medical kit in her bag in the trunk they could use for Hans, and perhaps Ciara as well. After another hour, they pulled over to the side of the road. Ellen’s skin was still somewhat covered in this strange...blubber-like gray skin, and her arm was beginning to ache. Grandma helped her get the sludge off of her--especially necessary as her arm had begun to ache again, and she grabbed clean clothes from her bag, changing into them. Ellen’s arm was set, and though it still ached, she was capable of driving.

Those capable of driving switched off for the rest of the journey, and a few strange portals later, they arrived at Goodnight. Hans and Ciara had gone off for medical attention right away. Ellen was checked out, but with mostly bruises at that point, she was given a sling for her arm and sent on her way. Ellen wandered towards one of the larger groups just as a man hopped up onto a box and introduced himself and the Underground.

A shower sounded delightful, but the line after Rory’s announcement grew seemingly exponentially, so Ellen went to check on Hans and Ciara. Ciara was asleep, and Ellen sat with her for a few minutes before deciding that she needed to stay a bit more active for a while. She didn’t like being alone with her thoughts. Hans was getting his bandages changed, and Ellen hung around for a bit, trying to stay out of the way. She didn’t know how to thank him for coming to their rescue without sounding...like a damsel in distress. After a few minutes, she settled on something half-decent.

“Thank you for coming back for us.” Ellen said. “I’m sorry that you got shot,” She wasn’t great at taking responsibility for her actions, but she did feel badly that her recklessness got Hans hurt--and nearly got them all killed.

Hans shrugged painfully, grimacing slightly with the movement.

“I have been shot before, successfully and unsuccessfully. What is important is that we completed our mission.”

He reached for a glass of water and brought it to his lips, draining it in one before leaning back on the beach chair they were using as a hospital bed.

“You were very reckless and irresponsible. Even now you have not fully realised how close you came to death, or worse, with the Federal Occult Enforcement agency. Without your impulsive actions I would not have been shot by that agent, nor would I have been forced to engage her with bullets from her comrades still in my stomach, and we certainly would have escaped much faster.”

He paused, before nodding.

“Because I would have stayed behind to hold off the FOE, almost certainly to be killed in action or captured and executed later, while the others fled the FOE and quite likely left Ciara behind. Your actions put yourself in danger and attracted the attention of the enemy - but without them the operation would have failed, and instead we extracted all three of our targets, and killed an enemy as well.”

Hans smiled - a thin, serious, proud smile.

“Ellen, you were outstanding.”

As Hans called her reckless and irresponsible, Ellen’s face reddened. Though she knew she was not the best at making plans before she did stuff, hearing from someone else made her uncomfortable. It didn’t make her feel particularly good to hear him say they would have escaped faster and he wouldn’t have gotten shot or forced to fight her while shot.

Then Hans continued, saying that he would likely be dead, and they wouldn’t have gotten Ciara, either. She glanced in the direction of the makeshift bed where Ciara was resting. A large smile appeared, erasing all of the earlier guilt as Hans called her outstanding. “Thanks, Hans.” She said.

“But you know what they say… Arbeit ist die beste Jacke.” Ellen repeated the German phrase meaning the best way to keep herself warm was to be useful. “Maybe next time, you can give me some orders so I don’t get us in too much more trouble.” Ellen chuckled, wanting Hans to know that she was absolutely up for doing this again. She didn’t want to hide out. She wanted to seize whatever control she could over their situation and DO something.

Hans paused for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly.

“Ja, you would make a good soldier, all you need is training and discipline, I think. Where are you really from?” He asked suddenly, directly.

Ellen frowned slightly at the mention of needing discipline, mostly in jest, but the jovial expression fell completely as he asked where she was from. She knew why. Americans didn’t speak German. They barely spoke English. She had only given an expression, and could have perhaps played it off as having had some grandparent who was German and used the expression still. But she didn’t want to lie to Hans. Besides, the FOE could apparently find her no matter what she said her name was, no matter where she claimed to be her heritage.

“Born and raised in Italia, Romano specifically.” Ellen said. She didn’t think it was necessary to then elaborate that she had traveled a fair bit growing up, and learned multiple languages in school. German was actually one of her weaker languages--she was just conversational, and would have had to sound out written things to be sure of their meaning.

Ellen debated whether to tell him more, to explain a bit of her history, and why she was in the states, but she ultimately decided against it. She looked down at the half of a tattoo on her wrist. She hadn’t told anyone before about her past, and the details were...difficult to bring up.

Hans looked down the bed, towards his legs, face coloured with thought.

“I fought in Kosovo. I was young and silly, and I believed in fighting what I thought of as injustice, so I went abroad and volunteered. I was still in the Bundeswehr, so I should not have done it like that, but it is what I did.” He paused, nodding slightly, remembering the sights. “I am one of the lucky ones. I took leave and was very careful, so I was not discovered by my homeland. NATO were sympathetic to the Kosovar cause, but I had not been authorised to fight. Now that I am fighting over here as well, I will likely be tried and imprisoned if I ever return to Germany.”

He looked up again, to Ellen. His face was softer now, less guarded. He was quite handsome - in a sort of older, mature, weathered kind of way. Hans had the kind of face that looked like he’d seen enough for two or more lifetimes, but through which you could still see a trace of the boy he’d been - just the subtle hint of what he’d looked like when he’d been younger.

Slowly, with great deliberation, and a cringe of pain as he moved wrong, Hans reached over and took a firm hold of Ellen’s hand.

“I am also running from Home. It is a bad feeling, whatever you run from.” He squeezed her hand.

Ellen reached out her good hand to take Hans’, not wanting him to strain himself too much to reach out. "I'm sorry to hear that you can't go back." And really, she couldn't go back either.

For a long time she had told herself that maybe eventually she would return home and see her parents again. Maybe they would rebuild a relationship and they would be able to look at her without seeing her sister. But that option was gone now. "I guess none of us can go back, really." She sighed, and looked around the room. "But that just means we need to keep looking forward."

“Get some rest. You deserve a break after saving my sorry ass.” Ellen grinned and released the man’s hand, then got up and left the man alone to rest. He was a good man, and it sucked that he was dragged into all of this. She knew on some level he had chosen this fight, but that didn’t make it any easier. The more people she saw--the ones who were hurt, scared, or still in shock--the more she hated the FOE. Why couldn’t an organization have come out to help people learn about their abilities? Why did different have to always mean bad or wrong?

These people didn’t deserve to be persecuted.

Ellen went back to the shower line. She talked with a few people about their journeys here. She mostly listened as some focused on the trauma of having to leave their homes suddenly, or pack up only what they could fit in a bag before leaving. Others focused on being pursued by the FOE, or a Bootlegger being lost in an exchange of fire. There were hints dropped here and there by the survivors that the group had not saved nearly as many as they wanted to, that they had lost loyal members of the Violet Underground, but the talk was mostly rumor countered by personal vignettes.

When asked, Ellen talked a little about her own path, saying that her pickup was easy, but they got into a fight with some woman from the FOE when they were picking up someone else. She didn’t want to make herself sound quite as reckless as she was, and glazed over trying to get away, and then holding off long enough for their bootlegger to come and engage with the FOE agent to get them free.

Many of the people talked about what sort of magic they had discovered since their awakening. Some seemed to be sparked by the conversation into actually putting a name/label on what they had recently discovered. Ellen could recall a few things she had done in her fight. She had developed a second skin to protect herself from the bitter cold. (Hence why she was still waiting in the damn line for the shower)... She had made the ground slippery, but where had she gotten the water from? Perhaps she condensed it from the air, or melted it from the snow. Hmm… she would have to think on that more.

Eventually, Ellen showered, then she found and collapsed into her makeshift bed. She didn’t care how uncomfortable it was, and fell asleep rather quickly. Her sleep was fitful, memories of her fight with the FOE agent, trying to protect Ciara, but Ciara transformed into her sister, Chiara, and no matter what she did, Ellen couldn’t stop her sister from being injured by the agents.

In the morning, Ellen spotted some girl applying makeup in the bathroom, and while she admired the girl’s resolve, she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. She looked in the mirror as she washed her hands, deciding that she probably needed to brush her hair. Well, she was pretty sure she needed to. Her contacts were still in the case, and she hadn’t thought to put on her glasses before wandering to the bathroom. She dressed, put on her glasses, then she put back on the sling, even though it made other things annoying and difficult. She wanted to be back at full capacity as soon as possible, and that meant resting up while she could.

Once dressed, and with her sight restored, Ellen went on a hunt for coffee.