There was a moment of silence as Henry waited for the young woman next to him to reply. In that dreadful moment he thought that perhaps she had not heard him, and that he would be forced to sit in the awkward quiet of the truck while other members of the group observed his blunder. Thankfully, during the interim a voice came from beside Henry, and he turned his head to regard the young man who had spoken. A minute earlier the same man had patted Henry on the back and joked about catching him after their planned para-drop into France - he had chuckled at that - but before he had a chance to respond the man's attention had been drawn to the laughs of the young woman sitting on Henry's other side.

"Nice to meet you, Izkry," Henry replied. Izkry looked young - he couldn't have been much older than Henry himself - and along with a broad smile and bright brown eyes, his laid back demeanour instantly put the young man at ease - but to an extent also concerned him. The idea that someone could be so calm while en route to Nazi occupied France was almost unimaginable, yet here such a person was, making jokes and warmly greeting men and women who he had never met but may well die beside. Come to think of it, so many of those who sat in the truck bed seemed alarmingly calm. Still, to see a friendly face was warmly welcomed. "And nice to meet you as well, Belasý," said Henry, leaning forward to see her. She appeared rather timid, but as they made brief eye contact he was struck by the vivid blue of her eyes. In that instant his pale green eyes washed over with the ferocious blue of the woman's own, perfectly replicating their cellular structure for but a fraction of a second before once again giving way to the much less remarkable green of Henry's own eyes.

Hoping the incident had gone unnoticed, Henry quickly withdrew his gaze. It was not unheard of for him to subconsciously mimic the physicalities of another person, much like the way he had assumed his mother's face while just a young boy. While studying his abilities Henry had become acutely aware that he tended to do this when he was particularly fond of a trait, be that the colour of a person's eyes, the shape of their nose, or even their hairstyle. It's something I need to work on, he noted.

Izkry spoke again, this time of aliases. "Well then, you can call me Tommy," Henry said. Tommy was a nickname that had come about after one of his nannies began to refer to him by the name, believing it was his actual name for whatever reason. Likely the result of moving from house to house, caring for the children of various families in his hometown. At the time Henry was too young to understand, but ever since he was often referred to as Tommy in casual situations - never outside of the estate. "Tommy Ashwell, will that do?"

Kazia flushed, mildly embarrassed, as the tall blonde youth beside her noticed her laughter. He seemed gentle enough, addressing her softly, and quite polite and articulate. He introduced himself as Henry.

The girl scrambled with her thoughts for a moment, sorting out which voice she was going to use. It wasn't much of a challenge, really- she would use her best friend's. Lena had always been talkative, and as soon as she'd figured out that Kazia couldn't make words on her own, she'd had Kazia write what she wanted to be said and would read it off. The result was that Kazia had conversational phrases that worked without being too disjointed.

"My name is Kazia Andrysiak." She said, in reply to Henry, her English quite accented - Lena had been taking classes in it, but she was by no means fluent. "It is nice to meet you." She had to switch voice for the next question, bought it was to another of her female classmate's, not noticeable to someone not paying perfect attention. "Have you ever been on a plane before?" Damn it, that sounded too childlike, the curiosity of a young girl who'd never been in the sky before. Oh well.

As she spoke to Henry, she noticed a tall, very thin boy approach her. In good English - though still slightly hesitant - he asked if she was Polish. She turned to look at him, realizing as he spoke that he, too, was from her country. She flashed him a soft smile, switching back to her native language- well, switching back to Lena's Polish. "Yes. It would be nice, to become friends." She hesitated for a moment, wincing at her disjointed voice. "My name is Kazia. What is yours? Also. Would you sit with me?" She patted the bench next to her.

Someone else- a tall young man, sitting next to an exceptionally sullen-looking girl, spoke up loud enough for everyone in the truck to hear, reminding them to get used to their aliases.

Right. Crap.

The small girl turned to the two males beside her. "As far as the rest of the world knows... I am Anna Slaski." She bit her lip, realizing that she'd used her grandmother's voice for the first part of the line, and then one of her friend's voices for the last part, a clear change. (Anna Slaski was the protagonist in one of their favorite books - a terribly obscure one that someone who wasn't Polish wouldn't know, and even most Polish people likely wouldn't - when they were small, and the line had been stolen from when they were playing pretend once.) She wondered if anyone would notice and realize that her "superpower" was her mimicry.

Belasý had not meant to meet Henry's eyes. She rarely made eye contact. His were a lovely green, but shifted to a blue that exactly mirrored the eyes that now narrowed as she frowned at him. More powers. At least he was being subtle, but had that been deliberate? Or was it to show he understood her nickname? Either way, she wasn't interested in talking, and turned away. Izkry was the one to reply. "Tommy Ashwell. Yes, it is a good name. Very English. It suits you." He tilted his head slightly at the younger man, and sighed. "I do not wish to offend, but you do not look like one who has done much fighting. A piece of advice -- try not to think about the bad things too much, yes? I have found the more one lets the clouds gather, the darker the day. It is like I told Frauline Anna -- laughter is precious. It is a light in even the bleakest times."

Speaking of the girl, she had an unusual way of speaking, and the siblings exchanged a brief look, Izkry with a raised eyebrow, Belasý with a frown. Each had their suspicions, but there was no reason to call attention to it. Of course, Belasý was more than able to create a fuss all on her own.

"Bel!" Izkry frowned at his sister as the ice hit the floor, and didn't look away when she glared back at him. "Don't go starting trouble. We do not need that, and you know it." He used the more comfortable Swiss German to scold her. The woman didn't answer but she did drop her gaze, and he turned to look at Oscar. "My apologies. She can be..." he searched for the right word, one that wouldn't be too harsh. "Sensitive, when it comes to powers." The press of her shoulder against his was a silent warning, and he left it at that for explanation. "Please be patient with her. She is not so bad, not truly." The mention of music made Izkry's mobile expression light up. "You play, Herr Tony? Wunderbar! If we can find a guitar, you must play me something from Spain. And I shall play you some of what I know, yes?"

Frau Maria mentioned introducing their powers, and Belasý scowled behind her hair. She should not even have used them to sent the ice into the floor of the vehicle. She did not reply to the comment, concentrating instead on the growing thrum she could hear outside. They must be approaching the airfield. Good. The sooner they were off, the better.

Izkry could tell his sister would not be answering that question. She didn't even want to listen to the rest of them discuss it, and he sighed. "You will not be getting Belasý to answer that," he said, shaking his head. "You probably will not be getting her to say much of anything." It was a weak smile that crossed his face this time. "She talks very little, with most. Do not expect much, off the field." He glanced towards her, but only saw the back of her head. "Well, if you did notice, that little fuss was her -- she controls water. I have an affinity for electricity and machines." Checking to make sure Belasý was still looking away, he summoned a tiny filament of static to play over the fingers of his uplifted hand, only for the briefest moment. "There is more, but I do not see a need to demonstrate, certainly not now."

"Nah, it's alright, I always liked having hard public when I played..." he then raises and lowers his eyebrows in a quick motion, looking at Belasý with a chuckle, his bushy and big eyebrows making him look the exact opposite of what you would expect, resulting in a comedic-toned glance that was done to try and set the mood to a relaxed one again. Óscar never liked stress, in fact, he used to live pretty calmed and without a care...until the powers and all of that.

He started to pat his own knees, moving his head side to side as he seemingly tried to remember a song, looking around "So...anyone here has fear of heights? Because I kinda do..." the Spaniard says, smiling softly and putting his hands on the back of his head, sighing in relief as he feels once again the soft movement of the truck over the paved road of the base, nodding. "Anyways, do you "chicos" mind if I sing while in the plane? I tend to do it when I'm nervous, you know, helps me...calm down...?" the tone wasn't quite affirmative, almost as if he was questioning his own phrases, biting his lower lip.

They were doing it. Holy shit, they were going to jump into France. He didn't think all of this was actually going to happen, he thought it would last for like, months or years until they did. He just realized, there was no way out of this, he was risking his own life and...for what? The Axis was allied with Spain and, well, would it even matter if they won? His parents were already dead, the country was divided and many people died, did it even have any sense to do it at this point?

Óscar buried his face in his hands, trying to look as less suspicious as possible, hunching over his seat to do that exact move as he gently taps Kazia's foot, who was in front of him. He didn't look up, his face covered by his hands as he started to whistle a tune, trying to make himself calm down as well as trying to keep up that "macho" attitude that the mission was expecting off of each and everyone of the guys that formed the crew.

A brown-haired woman with bright blue eyes and her brother, a young man with blonde hair and bright eyes, introduced themselves as Belasý and Izkry. Or, rather, Izkry introduced them both. Belasý did not seem very talkative. Izkry conversed with Jean for a few moments, and there was a slight tension in the air as Belasý lifted her head to give Jean an intense stare. It was rather subtle, but Ying-mei noticed it nonetheless. Like Belasý, she was more on the reserved side, and as such, Ying-mei tended to take notice of the little things.

A shaggy-haired man spoke up. Ying-mei could not quite place his accent. Modern-day...fairy tale? How is this a 'fairy tale' in any way, shape, or form? thought Ying-mei, bewildered. Chinese legends involved dragons and the heavens and magic, not a bumpy truck ride and then jumping out of a plane (though Ying-mei supposed that there was 'magic' in her world as well, if their abilities could be counted as that). And Western fairy tales were not like this either. I am somewhat familiar with western fairy tales, yes, and they almost always involve a princess and a prince and a curse or spell. I do not see how our current circumstances pertain to fairy tales...?

Ying-mei let it go. She was only thinking about it in such depth so that her mind would be distracted from the fact that she was about to jump out of a plane. Besides, the others had already moved on to other topics of conversation. The loquacious Spanish man had taken out a bottle of water, and he was now manipulating the water to form different shapes until he'd created...popsicles? What on earth are popsicles? In any case, his carefree air made Ying-mei smile softly. It was a nice bit of lightheartedness in the otherwise bleak atmosphere. Izkry mentioned that his sister was an "excellent marksman", which caused Ying-mei to arch an eyebrow slightly. At home, and even in America, a woman using a weapon was practically unheard of. Imagine...imagine how improper it would have been in Shanghai, if the women had walked around with guns! I understand that she has abilities like us, but I never imagined...although I suppose I should have expected this. I am fairly certain that Maria is well-versed with firearms as well. Ying-mei was jolted from her thoughts when the Spanish man's "popsicles" crashed to the ground as Belasý almost imperceptibly twisted her hands. A small frown formed on Ying-mei's face. Why is she so angry? Izkry's sister seems a bit on the sensitive side, that much is apparent. I wonder how someone of her temperament would fare amongst the social circles in Shanghai, let alone in Nazi-occupied France. Her brother said something to her in a language that Ying-mei could not understand.

Then, Maria suggested that they 'demonstrate' their powers and mentioned that she was a mind-reader. She turned and addressed Ying-mei directly.

"Ah, Ms. Liu is it? I'm sorry, I know there is some naming convention used by the Chinese that I am not familiar of, but I hope Ms. Liu shall suffice. Did you get the new drugs? I hear they've been amazingly effective for treating soldiers a bit more on the... Friskier side. I'm not sure if you could cure it on your own, but best not to take unnessacary chances, eh?"

Ying-mei inclined her head slightly. "Ms. Liu will suffice, yes, although from now on I suppose I am Sylvia Wang," answered Ying-mei. The side of her lip twitched at the mention of the new drugs, though it was hard to tell if it was from amusement or irritation. "And I have indeed received the new drugs, and you are right. Better safe than sorry," she murmured. She cast her eyes around the back of the truck. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," she said. Ying-mei flinched at the sirens wailing in the distance. It seemed like they had almost arrived to the plane.

The Spanish man introduced himself as Oscar Guijara, and proceeded to provide the group with a false identity-Tony Bamanaboni. Ying-mei mentally reminded herself that Maria herself would now be going by Marie Dubouis. She remembered that Izkry had said that he was going by Izaak Meyer, while his sister was going by Mieli Meyer. The blonde man with spectacles said that he would be called Tommy Ashwell. The young girl who was even smaller than Ying-mei introduced herself as Kazia Andrysiak. Anna Slaski would be her alias. Ying-mei could not help but to notice how her voice seemed to change in the middle of the sentence. Perhaps that has something to do with her abilities?

Izkry told the rest of them that his sister did not talk very much (which was obvious without him saying) and that she was able to control water. To show the group what he himself could do, Izkry lifted up his fingers, thin sparks dancing in the air between them, saying that he possessed "an affinity for electricity and machines."

Ying-mei decided that she would speak up. "In terms of demonstrating my...abilities...I am afraid that there is not much I can demonstrate at the moment," she began haltingly. "I...I am-was-a nurse in America before I was with the OSS, and my abilities involve healing." There, that should do it. It wasn't like there was an open wound readily available to heal at the moment, anyway.

Jason sat in moderate silence as he took in the conversations being thrown round the truck. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of the antics from the Spaniard, though he did worry somewhat about the apparent nervousness of the man. It could be bad going into enemy territory with someone unprepared. Jason at least had an idea of the landscape, some knowledge of local cultures, and it's not like anything could hurt him anyway so long as he paid attention.

Looking around, Jason found himself worrying slightly about remembering all these people. He'd grown up with many faces around, but he'd seen all of those since birth, that was second nature. These strangers, their names, aliases, powers... He'd have to work hard to keep it all in his mind. Oscar/Tony; control of water. Tommy, the Englishman. 'Bel'/Meili and her twin whos' name Jason had missed; more water control and electricity. Kazia/Anna; something was strange about her voice, but no power seemed forthcoming. Lui/Sylvia; some kind of healing. A lot to take in, and that wasn't even everybody.

Jason jumped a bit, startled as the ice popsicle crashed onto the truck's floor beside him. Chuckling, he reached down to pick up a larger piece, lifting his bandana to pop it into his mouth and bite down with a refreshing and satisfying crunch. He looked up from his seat on the floor to the conversation happening above and waved slightly. "Well, now that ye all've had your turn, I suppose it's my go, eh? Jason Graves fer the purposes o' this trip. Dependin' on how far we get an' how deep undercover we hafta go, I might also by ze name of Jason Tombe," He said, slipping into a passable French accent; "Or even Johan Graben if ve enter Deutschland." He said, finishing off with a German accent. "Though if ye need to get my attention, Jason'll be jus' fine. As fer what I can do... Well it's a toughy to explain, but I s'ppose I can sum up with 'Ye try to hurt me, I hurt ye back twice as hard.'" He said with a wink barely visible through his goggles.

"Now, I heard somthin' about cards or music? I play both, what're we up to fellas?"

Henry mulled over Izkry's words - he didn't believe he'd ever seen a fight in real life, let alone been involved in one. ...the more one lets the clouds gather, the darker the day. It was an interesting perspective. Though Henry had never been one to bog himself down in negativity, he was likewise not one to see light where there was only darkness. Some people would chose to delude themselves, but being a scientist and a mathematician, Henry often saw the world in a rather objective light. For him, there were things that were facts and things that were not facts. The things that were facts; they were going to war, their lives would be in danger, they may not survive to see the end of the war. The things that were not facts; laughter is a light, even in the bleakest of times. Regardless, Izkry's words brought some comfort, and for that he was appreciative.

"Thank you, Izkry," He said simply. "It means a lot."

On his other side, the voice of the young woman, Kazia, was almost drowned out by the various conversations of the small group as she introduced herself. She spoke in accented English, her sentences coming across as slightly fragmented, with each string of words being thought about carefully. Henry attempted to make sense of Kazia's strange manner of speaking, concluding that it must have been related to her abilities in some form. It wasn't until she spoke again - asking him whether or not he had flown in a plane before - that Henry was drawn away from his thoughts. Ironically, had he not been attempting to work out what it was that made the girl so unique, he might have picked up on the subtle changes in her voice; the small differences in key, the unconscious emphasis on certain letters and such.

"Have I ever been on a plane before? Certainly, my father owns..." Henry trailed off as he re-considered his words. Having never been in the company of such a mixed group of individuals, he was unsure whether or not openly discussing his family's wealth was the wisest of choices. In reality, he had been on a plane more times than he cared to count. His father owned three airliners; as well as a handful of boats ranging from small canal boats to colossal freighters, and a vast array of cars. Of course, the airliners themselves did not strictly belong to Lord Ashmore, but were instead part of the relatively small - but lucrative - Ashmore & Croft fleet. Ashmore & Croft was a joint venture, a partnership of two elite businessmen who also happened to be close friends, and as a result Henry had flown many times aboard one of the three airliners. "...Yes, I've flown before," Henry corrected himself. "I've never jumped out of the plane before though."

Kazia's attention was draw to a tall young man who had approached, and Henry took this time observe the rest of the group. He watched as one man with a dark beard - Óscar, he believed - formed a popsicle out of juice, and then after a brief exchange saw Belasý seemingly cause it to shatter against the floor. Henry made a brief, underlined note in his notepad. It simply read: Belasý - Dangerous??? Maria took this demonstration as a chance to invite others to share their own abilities. Izkry seemed all too happy to oblige, holding up a hand and allowing static to play across the tips of his finger. An affinity for electrical machines? How interesting, I wonder if... His thoughts were cut short as a young Chinese lady - Ms. Liu - began to talk. She explained that her powers were related to healing, and that she had been a nurse before joining the mission. Now that will certainly be useful. Next, it was the turn of the man with the Irish accent to speak. After informing the group of his various aliases in different accents - which Henry chuckled at - he then left him rather curious. If you try to hurt me, I hurt you back twice as hard. I wonder what that could mean. Having made notes of everything he had seen and heard, Henry decided that he should demonstrate his own abilities.

"I... suppose I should demonstrate my abilities," He said rather timidly, addressing the group.

Locking eyes with Maria, Henry sat in silence for a moment. It was not necessarily needed, but nonetheless Henry often liked to take this time in order to observe those whose form he would assume. It made the transition easier. After the silence was over, Henry's appearance began to change. His body appeared to ripple slightly, as if a wave had washed over him. It started at the tip of his nose, and spread across his face, consuming his head before travelling the length of his body and reaching the tip of his toes. The complexion of his skin softened, his hair darkened and grew past his shoulders, his lips became fuller, his eyes darkened, and his physique took on a feminine appearance. Now, instead of Henry who sat across from Maria, it was a carbon-copy of Maria herself.

"What do you think?" He asked. His voice was higher and softer than it had been before.

“What we are up to… And may you please refrain from shifting into fellow members of the Leauge, Mr Ashmore,” announced Maria, no, it was Marie now, was getting off the truck. She heard the shout of an aircrew member and stepped out to the strong stink of kerosene and burnt rubber, a fighter plane taking off in a high-pitched scream of engine noise and fuel. The soldiers driving the truck opened the doors to the cab and hopped out, rifles slung over their shoulders and flicked down the flaps to allow the men and women inside out, and Marie graciously took an outstretched hand as she hopped down; no need to ruin her new clothes now before they even arrived.

A group of airmen were standing around a Lancaster, the four huge engines whirring softly. They were part of a bombing run, realised Marie. They would just be the icing on the cake; get spies into France whilst giving the Kraut their daily ‘medicine’ at the same time. She shook her head and watched as another soldier approached her, before shaking her hand warmly. “Lance Corporal James McKenly ma’am.” He had the accent of someone from Dublin; an odd sight after the split with the rest of the union in the early twenties.

“The bomber is all ready to go, as is all asked for equipment. I understand there are some without your wings, so we’ve installed a new model of parachute into the plane. All freshly packed and never used before, very flammable silk too. No need to bury them, just pick them up and set them alight in the safehouse. Bit like those new translations pads they have, you know, the ones that you can swallow if needs be?” The Italian nodded to indicate that he was making sense, before looking. “So, we’re ready to board at any time?”

“That is correct ma’am, yes.” The Irishman had already shaken her hand, thought Marie, so it wasn’t like she was reading his memories without his consent. He had an interesting life, that was for sure. Sweetheart too. Best not to get particularly attached; there were many more like him on both sides. Getting attached just made the news of their deaths harder than ever, and besides, it was highly unlikely she would meet McKenly again.

She indicated for the rest of the group to follow her inside the plane, the modified fuselage allowing for a number of parachutists to sit safely for the flight. A bucket was installed in the corner, the strong smell of chemicals coming from it and what looked like a shower-curtain ready to be pulled around it, as well as two overhead bins and two lockers. Immediately, she walked over to the locker and opened it, pulling out her equipment and flicking through the bag as others wondered in. Fifteen thousand Francs, a little more in Reichmarks. Documents for all of them, including work permit papers, documentation for why the men were excused from the military, as well as a host of other items. She would hand them out after the drop as she zipped it up, clipping it to her parachute ‘bag.’ The welrod had an armpit holster to go along with it, and she took off her jacket, adjusting the harness before strapping the pistol in.

“All of your gear is inside one of the overhead bins above. You’ll have to check to make sure it’s yours though, because for obvious reasons we can’t label the bags with your names. Documentation will be handed out when we’re in the safehouse. The pilo-“ just as she mentioned them, one of the crewmen walked into the area, before banging on the side of the plane, his bomber jacket loose and not done up. Yet.

“Alright! Listen up! This is an unpressurised plane, so breathing will be a little difficult due to the thin air, and it will get chilly, just a warning. Parachutes are in the other locket that is not currently open. That door there and that door there will be opened by either me or another crewmember and they will tell you when to jump! Remember that we are moving extremely fast when we jump, the longer you wait around, the further away from the group. You need to jump when we tell you. Five minutes, and then we’re up in the air. Good luck folks.”

"You will not be able to sing in the field," Izkry cautioned. "But I do not mind music in general." He was definitely interested in hearing Oscar sing.

Frau Liu -- Frau Wang, to use her alias -- was Chinese, not Japanese as Izkry had assumed. "A healer? Ah, that is truly an excellent ability," he said. "I am sure you will be most welcome should anyone be injured." He paused, but only for a moment before deciding to indulge his curiosity. "You lived in America? For how long? That explains your accent. Your English is excellent -- better than mine, I think." He gave Frau Liu a bright smile.

Both siblings heard Henry's slip about aircraft, but Belasý was hardly going to say anything, and Izkry would let it go without comment, given how the young man had quickly corrected himself. "This is my first time. I have seen the fighters overhead before. ...I am a little nervous too." His smile turned self depreciating. "You wouldn't think I would be, after the past year, but so it goes." He shrugged.

Jason was interesting, speaking with a variety of different accents. Izkry wondered if he spoke the actual languages. Belasý knew a lot of languages, or at least bits of them. He'd never had any talent for languages -- even his English was not entirely smooth, and very accented. His Swiss German was far better, with the pronunciation being closer to the language he'd spoken for the first decade of his life.

The truck was slowing and Belasý got up before they came to a full stop, eager to get out and stretch her legs, as well as put space between herself and the others for a bit. She had little difficulty keeping her feet in moving vehicles after a year and more of practice, but when Henry suddenly turned into another Maria she automatically recoiled, her face twisting in disgust. Her control slipped, and throughout the truck, bottled of water shuddered, responding to her visceral reaction. One of Oscar's bottles burst, the seal broken by the outward force she'd generated.

She'd guessed, after that little incident when Henry'd met her eyes, but to see his monstrous ability so openly displayed -- she had not been expecting it, not here, and Belasý stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over one of the soldiers outside as she scrambled out. A fight, that was easy. She'd been trained for that -- they'd intended her to be a perfect little soldier since she'd been taken, after all. And with her hatred of the Third Reich, she felt little sorrow, killing the Germans and their allies. Her nerves in the field kept her sharp, and she was fairly certain she'd handle enemy supersoldiers fine as well. But to have them among her comrades-at-arms, to need to trust them with her life -- or rather, her brother's life, since hers had little value -- this was not something she was used to. There'd been powered individuals at the school in Switzerland, given the nature of the place, but it had taken her years to get used to them. She'd barely met these people, and now she would be fighting, maybe dying beside them. The woman's heart raced, and she drew in a deep breath, tilting her head back so she could look up at the sky. This was what she needed to do. This was her chance to strike deep into Axis territory. She would do what she had to.

With her mission firmly in mind, she listened with half an ear to the lieutenant corporal and Maria. When the soldier looked over at the group, she drew herself to attention and gave a quick salute. This was familiar territory. Izkry at her side, they boarded the bomber. There were others being prepped -- a full run. Belasý mentally approved of this strategy. They were less likely to be noticed with other falling objects, and the enemy having to deal with the air raid. She went for her gear immediately after Maria was out of the way, and tossed Izkry his. She'd tied a bit of colored ribbon to one of the zippers on each, so it was easily identified, but also not visible from a distance. They settled in two adjacent seats nearest the door, with Bel once again on the outside. She would not have any trouble jumping, and perhaps that would give the others courage. Goodness knew, more than one looked like they'd need it. Izkry too was tenser than usual, even in comparison to his demeanor on the field, and she took a moment to squeeze his knee before setting about gearing up. Her father's rifle, one of her only mementos of the man, was secure inside its case. Her Luger was in its holster at her hip, and her knives were snug in their sheaths, all of which she checked. It was a little odd to be in civvies, but this /was/ an undercover mission. She and Izkry both were rough clothes, suited to the wilderness and of colors that they wouldn't be immediately visible, but not actual camo, and nothing that would look too out of place in town either.

A crewman came to brief them, and both siblings listened attentively, though one could hardly tell from looking at Bel that she was. Izkry acknowledged the information with a sharp nod. "We are ready to deploy on command," he said, trying to relax. It was the waiting that was the hardest, really. Jumping would be easy. ...Landing potentially less so.

Óscar comes out of the truck, not noticing as the bottle literally explodes on his belt and soaks his entire side, or the sudden shape-shift of Henry, one of his hands still on his cheek whilst he goes into the plane and listens to Maria "Fuck, fuck, fuck...I'm so fucked, literally fucked, Jesús..." he kept thinking, barely paying attention to the "boss" as he hears the word "Gear", instantly raising an eyebrow and sighing loudly in some relief "W-Well...at least I'll have my shit..." he thinks once again, making his way up to the overhead bins. "Uhm..t-this is totally safe, right? Like, there won't be any...you know, motor problems?" he asks the group in general, shifting trough the baggage as he touches what seems to be a rifle of some sort, quickly backing up and wincing.

He's on edge, he really is, not thinking what would happen to him or not even caring the weeks before, but it all has come down to this. This exact moment, there was no turning back. He looked around, trying to find some comfort in that group, but he just saw a bunch of strangers, one of which either didn't like powers at all or just hated him, those two were as bad as he could think. "Alright, alright...calm down...t-this'll be like when you had to back up that group on that concert...just breathe..." Óscar then starts to take deep breaths, staring at the baggage and moving it to make as much noise as he can, to cover up the obvious shaking and breathing sounds, fixing his hair in a very distressed manner, almost pulling his own hair off.

"Names. Alias...g-got to remember those right? Uhm, I'm Tony...t-that British dude is Henry...wait, was that his alias? Oh fuck, can't remember...oh wait, I-I do...good..." His breathing started to slow down, even tho someone might have noticed it, and if Maria was coincidentally reading his mind right at that exact moment, well, she would know as well. The Spaniard then quickly seats on the...well, seats, putting the harnesses on just in case and faking a smile while looking up to the group "P-Pfft...chilly? I'm half-viking, I think I'll handle it..." he remarks with a chuckle, nervously scratching his beard with a hand "Sure, it's sure, it's safe...".

Jason slid out of the truck silently as they arrived at their destination, keeping a curious eye on the silent girl and her adverse reaction to Tommy's display of his powers. Sure, people like them weren't commonplace, and Jason had seen more than his fair share of hostility towards people with powers, but never from someone who supposedly had a set of her own. He'd have to keep an eye on her, that didn't bode very well.

The Irishman perked up a bit as he heard the familiar accent from the solder speaking with their leader, though he chose to stay back at this point as well. Though his father was Irish through and through, Jason himself had spent most of his life never seeing the emerald hills of his father's land. It was only recently that Jason had even met his father, and adopted the dialect that seemed his birthright. He smiled politely to McKenley as he followed the group onto the plan, smiling slightly under his bandana as he heard that their equipment was on board.

Following the group to the overhead compartments, Jason rifled around until he found an old friend. His fingers closed around a wooden staff and he pulled it out slowly feeling the carvings and the worn handgrip from years of use. This, along with his bandana and violin were the only things he'd managed to save from that night. The violin had to stay behind for obvious reasons, but this... He would use this and his mask to take his revenge against the army that took his family from him. Slipping his wrist through the loop of soft leather at the top of the staff, Jason turned and found a seat. This was the only thing he'd taken, aside from the obvious; standard provisions and such. He traveled light. One had to, in his life.

Jason turned and looked at the man next to him, chuckling softly at the obvious nervousness of Oscar, the Spaniard with the Italian-sounding alias. He leaned in a bit closer and planted the end on his staff on the floor, bracing himself on it. "Ye think they'd put us an' their solders on board a faulty plane, friend?" He asked, ribbing the other man playfully. "Nah, the motor'll be jus' fine, mark my words! It's all the bullets that we'll hafta worry about, enemy airspace an' all." Leaning back Jason lowered his voice just slightly, enough that he hoped it would be taken as more serious. "Course, if tha' were to happen... Straight to Valhalla with ye, eh? Carried on the wings of Valkyries, off to enjoy an eternity of everylastin' glory, honor, feastin', drinkin'. Half-Vikin' an' all, plus goin' down in glorious battle... You've got somethin' to look forward to either way, dontcha think?"

@MegaOscarPwn

Jean boarded the bomber and found his gear quite quickly. There wasn't much on his backpack, but Jean found the most important thing: his Winchester Model 75 carbine. It was a prototype, shipped just a few weeks ago from some Winchester factory. It still was brand new and almost unused. For the past few weeks Jean had been testing it, and it had left him quite satisfied. It wasn't a pure sniper rifle, but more of a designated marksman rifle for medium ranges. A newly-developed cartridge was also a nice bonus.

There wasn't much space to move, but Jean took his stuff outside and started to put them on in a fashion he had found most useful during his parachutist training. First his combat harness, the pistol holster and ammunition, second his backpack, and lastly his parachute and carbine. He quickly checked the carbine's scope and set it for two hundred meters. Jean had a small notebook for the scope's different adjustments. It took a few minutes to check everything at least twice, and adjusted the straps and locks for his liking. He didn't want to meet the ground too violently. First combat jump, and the Frenchman made a nice splash hitting the ground floor. Goodbye, it was nice knowing you.

Jean sighed. In few short hours he would be jumping back to France with strangers. The Spaniard seemed good enough fellow, but could he become a soldier? The siblings had something on them, and the rest were all wild cards. Maria seemed all right, but did she have a plan?

Jean took a last look at the airfield, and boarded the bomber again. Bye, England. It was nice knowing you for a while.

"I too would worry more about being shot down," Izkry commented in response to both Oscar and Jason, "But I think I am more worried about getting shot after we land than before. Still, I plan on living until I am a grumpy old man shaking my cane and yelling at the young...ah, the young whips, telling them to stay off the grass." He smiled. "I couldn't possibly die -- who would get on my sister's nerves if I did, hm?" Beside him, Belasý rolled her eyes and nudged him with an elbow. For the first time since they'd met her she seemed to be smiling, at least a little.

"We are a strange little group, ja?" the young man continued. He'd commented on it before, but still he was surprised by how very different they all were. "Swiss German, British, Chinese American, Polish, Italian, Spanish, French. I suppose the saying is true, a common enemy brings people together." He looked thoughtful for a moment, but shook the slightly melancholy thought off. "Frau Dubois, Monsieur Jean, I know we go after the Nazis in control of France, but do we have any specific goals for this mission? I would like to know more about what to expect, if more is known." He hesitated for a moment, and then added another thought. "And I think perhaps we should say more than just what we can do. We are a team now -- I want to know about you all as people." Izkry looked around the cabin at the faces that told of vastly different backgrounds and experiences. "I think we will work better if we know each other. Belasý and I, we are from Germany. This was before the Nazis took over, you understand, but they still wanted those with superpowers. We escaped to Switzerland maybe ten years ago now, with a sergeant our father served with in the first Great War. I like Switzerland. It is a nice place, and where we live, the people are friendly. When this war is over, I will go back and enter the automotive industry. Someday children will learn in school about Izkry and how he came up with a wonderful new design for car engines."

A muffled sound that might have been a snort, or perhaps a snicker, came from the woman in the next seat. Izkry looked at her in mock affront. "You think it will never happen, Belasý, but you wait and see!" Inwardly he was pleased. She seemed to be more at ease than she had been following Oscar and Tommy's displays, and that had been his intention in part. Turning back to the others, he told them, "Bel wants to be a chef, or maybe own a restaurant. She is a wonderful cook, and if you compliment something she made she will turn the most amazing shade of red -- see, see, already her cheeks are pink!" It was good-natured teasing, and Belasý had never quite figured out how to stop her brother from doing it. In truth, she did not really wish to, and as she covered her face with her hands, ducking her head so her dark hair brushed her knees, the woman was very glad to have such a cheerful person at her side.

"A healer? Ah, that is truly an excellent ability," he said. "I am sure you will be most welcome should anyone be injured." Izkry said. "You lived in America? For how long? That explains your accent. Your English is excellent -- better than mine, I think," he continued with a wide smile.

Ying-mei blushed slightly at the compliment. Izkry was much more approachable than his sister, that much was for sure. "I have been living in America for approximately ten years now," Ying-mei answered softly. "My father sent me there to study, and I was working as a nurse in a hospital while keeping my younger brother company in America before we came to England and the British authorities discovered what I could do."

Jason Graves/Tombe then introduced himself. Rather than demonstrate what his ability actually was, he simply gave them an extremely vague description and left it at that. Ying-mei was bewildered-was this some English expression that she was not familiar with?-but Ying-mei did not get a chance to ask any questions, as the blonde, bespectacled man (whose name was Henry) spoke up at that moment. It was his turn to show everybody else what he could do, and Ying-mei watched in astonishment as his features morphed into an exact replica of Maria/Marie's.

Goodness gracious. With an ability like his, who knows what Mr. Ashwell could do? He could pretend to be anybody in the world and the Nazis would be none the wiser.

Ying-mei was so impressed by Henry/Tommy's demonstration that she almost did not notice one of Oscar/Tony's bottles of water bursting. Ying-mei started in alarm, her gaze drifting over to Belasý, who had scrambled out of the truck as quickly as she could. Her brother said that her ability was controlling water, no? I wonder why she did that. In any case, there was little time to ponder Belasý's motives as the group began to disembark from the truck and listen to the instructions that were being given. The noise, the smell, the atmosphere in general-it was all overwhelming. Ying-mei took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of kerosene and...rubber? as she took everything in.

She followed the rest of the group into the plane. Maria began to speak, telling them where their gear was and warning them about breathing difficulties and the cold. Ying-mei shifted nervously. She had been given basic instructions on how to use the parachutes in preparation for the paradrop, but that didn't mean that she was comfortable jumping out of a plane, for Pete's sake! Jump when they tell you to, jump when they tell you to, Ying-mei repeated to herself. Maria had stressed the importance of jumping immediately, and the last thing that Ying-mei wanted was to lose sight of the group and find that she had no idea where the hell she was.

Ying-mei grabbed bags at random until she finally found hers. She was not carrying much other than the standard field agent gear that had been assigned to her earlier and a first-aid kit. Ying-mei checked to make sure that everything was there, and the sight of the first-aid equipment gave her some comfort. Ying-mei knew how to disinfect wounds and bandage cuts. She could do that. Jumping out of a plane, though? Not so much. But there was no time for her uncertainty. She'd have to jump or risk being stranded in the middle of France.

Ying-mei watched everybody else find their gear and get settled. Oscar seemed extremely nervous, babbling about viking and messing with his hair. He is as skittish as a spooked horse, observed Ying-mei wryly. Jason attempted to cheer him up, mentioning some place called...Valhalla? Ying-mei had no idea what it meant. It was probably another one of those English expressions that she had yet to pick up on. Ying-mei glanced in the other direction, her eyes landing on Jean. He appeared to be slightly anxious, and a bit pensive. Ying-mei furrowed her brow and looked down, trying to figure out why. It probably wasn't because of the impending jump, as contradictory as that seemed. One would have thought that everyone was frightened by the sheer prospect of jumping out of a plane, but the confidence that Jean had exuded earlier, when they were sitting on the truck led Ying-mei to think otherwise. She guessed that he was familiar with everything already, that he knew what he was doing. That was good, at least. It was nice knowing that somebody other than Maria would be able to help if anybody had difficulties.

Perhaps he thinks that we are not prepared for this, thought Ying-mei. She did not blame him. Ying-mei knew that she didn't feel prepared at all! But what she felt did not matter right now. She would just have to trust that Maria knew exactly what was going on and exactly what would happen.

Ying-mei's thoughts wandered to home. She hadn't seen her parents for a couple of years, now. Last she heard from them, they had relocated to southern China in order to escape that Japanese soldiers as they advanced across the country. Ying-mei fervently hoped that they were safe and sound. Will fighting the Nazis hurt the Japanese? Ying-mei wondered. The Germans and Japanese had formed an alliance, yes, but did one country's actions affect the others?

Ying-mei's musings were interrupted by the sound of Izkry's ever-cheerful voice as he conversed with Oscar and Jason. She was startled when he mentioned being shot down-up until this point, Ying-mei hadn't even considered that possibility-but she laughed quietly as he continued talking, listening to him playfully tease his sister.

Ying-mei decided that it would not hurt if she divulged more information about herself. "I am from Shanghai. My father works for the government, and I have a younger sister and a younger brother," she began hesitantly. "Like I said before, my father sent me to America to study. That was when I was seventeen. I went to nursing school and graduated a couple years later, and I was working as a nurse before visiting my uncle in England." Ying-mei left out the part about thieves shooting her brother in the chest and paused for a moment in order to collect her thoughts.

"In the future...I..." Ying-mei trailed off, uncertain. What is my future? she thought helplessly. What is my future, assuming that I survive this?

"Well, before everything happened, my future was to marry a man from a good family and raise our children," Ying-mei said quietly. "I never really liked to think about it, because my father would decide who I married and when I married. He was, after all, the one providing the dowry. How ungrateful would it be of me if I had insisted that I should have a greater say?" Ying-mei's tone was neither angry nor sad, in fact, it was rather matter-of-fact. "Now, though, I am not so sure. If we get out of France alive, if the war ends and I am still here...I do not know. I would like to continue working as a nurse, but I am not certain that my father would permit it." Ying-mei shrugged nonchalantly and left it at that, ducking her head slightly. Maybe I should not have included the part about marriage. Neither Maria nor Belasy seem like the type who would allow themselves to be forced into marrying someone. But what am I to do? They do not know what Shanghai is like, what Chinese politics involve. What do Westerners know of our ways, of our duties and responsibilities? Their world is vastly different from ours.

Ying-mei shook her head to herself. There was no use dwelling on any of that right now. Besides, she had more pressing worries-such as the fact that they were about to jump off of a plane!

Óscar suddenly straightens up, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists just before exhaling loudly, nodding at the man, turning his head around to look at him "Fucking hell...you're right, this is the Britain army, they are the best!" he chuckles loudly, a bright smile on his face just before standing up whilst putting his hand on his knee to help himself, putting the other one on the man's shoulder "I sure hope Thor doesn't mess with us on the flight though, he has something for trying to challenge us mortals...". The Spaniard seemed slightly more relaxed, still shaking but smiling nonetheless.

"I'm a Viking..." he thought, the smile turning onto a smirk as he did "Valhalla only awaits those who dare to defy destiny and the gods, besides, our fate is sealed" Óscar then sat on the plane seat's again, crossing his arms and looking at the wall in front of him "My death's hour is already set, guess that's why I don't wear armor". Meanwhile, he saw the Asian woman glance at him while babbling and pulling his hair, which he was already fixing as all of this happened. His gaze then fixated on Belasý and Izkri, the siblings that were as weird as all hell. The first one not liking powers and all, being an overall douche for the moment "Niñata, I'm sure you'll learn to like our powers...", her brother wasn't bad anyway, trying to calm her down and being the only good one of the two, at least from Óscar's point of view.

He turned his head, to look at Jean, the Frenchman "Huh, not sure how I feel about him...the French tip well, that's something good at least" he thought, frowning his eyebrows "But what if he knows about the stuff I did back there, maybe he isn't a fan of it..." these thoughts kept going trough his mind, giving him some time to himself as the previously scared and nervous Spanish male suddenly turned into a quiet and thinking semi-Viking, the beard finally giving him some kind of authority, or at least making him look older and more experienced than everyone in there. "Fuck, no...I don't want to be an ass and pretend I'm a super soldado or some shit like that, hell no..." he quietly says to himself, pulling his beard and playing with it, raising his head and staring at the parachute locker for the meantime.

@Korkoa

Jean had found a seat and taken it, and now he was sitting very uncomfortably, and went through his training and other things in his mind. He was casually filling his few spare magazines, and Jean's eyes were looking slightly downwards, paying not too much attention at anything. I have fifty rounds of ammunition. Cartridge is 7.62 millimeters wide and 39 millimeters long. Suited for hunting the most dangerous prey in Europe at the ranges up to four hundred meters. But I can't be all business, can I?.

Jean took again a glance around him. The others had started to talk about their powers and histories, but Jean hadn't told them a thing about his. Perhaps it's time.

Jean rose to stand, thinking a second on his words and started to speak to the group. "I don't know if you have been wondering on what is my ability, but here it is."

He started to adapt to the texture of the flight compartment. It took a while, but little by little, his skin, uniform and other equipment were very similar to the walls, the floor and the ceiling of the compartment. Jean felt a slight tingling all around his body, and the air slightly vibrated around his figure. Jean started to walk in the compartment, continuing to speak.

"As you might see, I am a chameleon in human form. During the invasion, I made a habit for myself of sneaking behind the German lines and sniping officers and other important people, and they never saw it coming. Once even had a chance to take at the famed General Rommel, but he got lucky that time.

"About a year ago, I left France when the Brits bailed out of Dunkirk. For the past year, I've been training for this day. And from now on, I'll go by the name of Louis Cambronne."

Jean started to shift back into his normal, more visible self. He walked back to his seat, feeling a bit tired, as always after using his ability.

It was dark over France, the only sound being the whirr of the plane's quad engines, and the only light being from the moon, their target drop was fast approaching below them, and Marie was getting herself psyched up, a cigarette in her mouth. She hated jumps with a passion, something about wildly flinging herself out of a plane thousand of meters above the ground with a rucksack full of silk didn't exactly inspire confidence in her.

The cabin was freezing cold; even if she had needed to use the chemical 'toilet,' exposing herself would have been torture, although luckily she didn't. No, she just needed a Cuban Cigar. Yeah, that's what she'd do if she got back in one piece. See if she couldn't pick up a Churchill and give it a good few puffs.

As she mused, she heard the thump of feet. One of the copilots came through and nodded to the group, looking around at them. "ETA to drop zone is now ladies and gents, so let's get going." He clapped his hands together and opened the jump doors, causing a whirling vortex of noise and wind to open up in the cabin. "Ma'am? You going first?"

The Italian sighed and nodded, flicking the cig out ahead if her into the darkness. Due to the blackout enforced, the city was almost invisible, but if you squinted you could make out the features of what they would be plummeting towards shortly.

Or right now, she thought, stepping out of the plane.

Izkry did his best to keep things from becoming too tense. He encouraged their various teammates to speak of things they liked, worries that were entirely unrelated to the war, things they were fond of, and all the things that, he hoped, would help them to think of themselves as a team and not a bunch of strangers thrown together. Talking grew harder when they reached the higher altitudes, but it wasn't bad enough for him to abandon the effort. It became quite cold as well, and he was glad of the warm coat and gloves Belasý insisted he wear. He tried a couple times to speak to her softly, but she'd retreated into her own thoughts, and made no effort to respond.

For her part, she was paying attention more or less to the conversation, but focused far more on what was to come. When the copilot said it was time to jump, she did not hesitate for even an instant. She had her harness off even before he had opened the door to the roaring wind, and as soon as Ms. Dubois was out the door she was moving to follow.

Izkry shook his head. "I'll see you all on the ground!" he shouted, and then with a deep breath to steady his nerves he leaped after. Wind rushed past his ears, and he was glad of the goggles that protected his eyes. The city below was dark, even though he knew it was there, and it was hard to make out any features of the land. Bel might be able to make out something, her vision was a bit better than his, but he wasn't sure of that. Either way, he tilted himself to plummet after the barely visible outline of his sister. The drop wasn't so bad. Sort of fun, if you didn't think about what was coming. After all, it wasn't falling that killed you. It was hitting the ground.

For most part of the flight, Jean had been slipping in and out of half-sleep and being awake. It had been mostly a monotone flight. There had been some gusts and sporadic AA fire. When the co-pilot came and shouted that they were nearing the drop-zone, Jean felt a bit drowsy. I shouldn't have slept so much, he thought, and tossed the thought away. He checked his equipment for the last time, and as Maria first and then the Swiss siblings jumped, Jean took the steps towards the door. At the door, he could only see darkness and dim outlines in the ground.

Don't look down. Hands outside the door. Jump, fall, pull, yank final thoughts ran in his head, as he stepped out of the door. La garde meurt, mais ne se rend pas. He jumped and fell. As Jean pulled the parachute's cord, he felt the relief of the yank, as the parachute opened.

Ying-mei had not noticed how dark it was outside until it was time for the air-drop. She'd spent most of the flight shivering and trying to calm her nerves, as the cabin was rather cold. She supposed that those with actual combat experience were used to this by now, so Ying-mei gritted her teeth and bore it in silence. Ying-mei hated the cold. She wasn't very fond of heat and humidity, either. Summers in Shanghai had been the worst, what with the mosquitoes everywhere and air so damp that it felt like walking through velvet every time one stepped out on the street.

One of the co-pilots informed them that it was time for the air-drop. He opened the door, and Ying-mei resisted the urge to cover her ears. Outside was nothing but pure darkness, though the sound of the wind rushing past them was deafening. She was not entirely sure where they were, but she desperately hoped that they were indeed jumping out of the plane in the right location.

First, Maria went. Ying-mei watched her step out of the plane without a single second of hesitation. Next came the siblings-cheerful, talkative Izkry and quiet, sullen Belasy. Even when he was jumping out of a plane, Izkry remained extraordinarily enthusiastic. Ying-mei wished that she was as excited as he was, and as certain as he was that they would see each other on the ground. If they survived the air-drop, that is. Jean was fourth, easily and fluidly stepping out from the door of the cabin and into the empty air, quickly disappearing from sight.

I suppose that the sooner I get this over with, the better, thought Ying-mei. She decided that she really, really, really didn't want to go last, so she stood up after Jean had disappeared from view and walked quickly over to the jump doors before she could change her mind. After that, all she had to do was step outside. Which she did so, not allowing herself to hesitate and potentially end up landing far, far away from the rest of the group.

Perhaps this won't be so bad after all, Ying-mei thought as she jumped.

As soon as she was out of the plane, Ying-mei realized that it was indeed as bad as she'd thought it would be. All she could do now was hope and pray that she could carry out the instructions on how to deploy the parachute and land safely on the ground with the others who went before her.