Under a blood red sky

Ellen was not a girl to sit around and do nothing. With no answers as to why she'd been brought here - she doubted it was to help out in the wacky funfair of oogyness - Ellen had been forced to hit the books. The library hadn't been useful books-wise, but it had free internet access and the librarian didn't give her the stinkeye for spending all day in there. It didn't suit Ellen, this inactivity, but there was little else she could do.

Of course, she still had to keep in shape. She wouldn't go so far as to say she'd been patrolling, but Ellen had been out at night, looking for trouble. At this point, she'd be happy to see anything she had to kill.

Tonight she was near the centre of town, knife tucked into the back of her pants, underneath her coat. She walked the streets, trying to look vulnerable, hoping to attract unsavoury types. She'd even dressed differently; miniskirt rather than her normal jeans (with boyshorts underneath - no way was she flashing anyone whilst kicking their ass) and a low-cut vest. A silver chain dangled down into her cleavage, the end of the necklace hidden by her top. She was still wearing shoes she could run and fight in; beat-up 18-hole Doc Martens, the sides and tongue folded down midway.

Ellen headed towards the nearest graveyard, keeping an eye out for anything unusual, without making it look like that's what she was doing.