Pending either her assignment to an Agent pair or her approval to become a full Agent, Intern Ally Malet spent her time in an empty Response Center, reading guidebooks to the PPC, memorising possible charge lists and repeating the Sunflower Official's list of reasons as to why she was never going to be allowed back in her home continuum with pride. Considering her former life as a citizen of District Eight in the Hunger Games-verse, this was a much better life, even if she had nearly nothing to do.
Ally strongly reconsidered this view the moment she looked in the mirror, that morning.
Her eyes were purple. Her skin, normally tanned from years of working out of doors, was soft and white. Her plain features had become beautiful, her strong, muscular arms now resembled that of an eight-year-old's, and her hair, usually very short and carrot-red, had become long and a rather vivid shade of green. In short, she now resembled the two things she despised the most- citizens of the Capitol, and Mary Sues.
Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, she considered her new appearance, before speaking in a low, flat tone.
"Someone is going to die for this."
Unfortunately for her homicidal plans, Ally found that not only could she no longer lift her prized axe, just trying to grasp it made her hands hurt. Cursing, she found her long knife, and after slipping her urple arm band on, she walked into the corridors of PPC HQ, looking for answers.
Grace Leon, an intern of DoSAT, was awakened from her light doze at her workstation by a rather loud explosion. Shrugging it off as just another day in DoSAT, she reached for her glasses and knocked them aside, frowning at her apparent clumsiness. After a few tries, she managed to pick her glasses up and put them on. The moment her hand came into view, she froze. Her hands were now huge, her fingers thick and stubby. Her eyes widened in horror and she let out a small shriek, frantically looking around for any spilt potions or malfunctioning machinery that could have caused it. Finding none, she got up and made her way to the exit, holding her hands out in front of her. On the way, she caught a look at herself in a shiny, reflective piece of metal, and let out another scream before running straight out of DoSAT.
Fingering the hilt of her knife, Ally was walking down the corridor for what seemed like the fifth time, until a screaming figure ran right into her, knocking her down.
"OW!" she exclaimed crossly, shoving the other figure off her and climbing to her feet. She looked around for her knife and saw it a few metres away. Once she'd grabbed it, she turned back to the person who'd run into her.
"My hair! My hands! My hair! Oh God, *my hair*!" the other woman gabbled.
Ally didn't see what was wrong. The woman, whose urple armband marked her as a fellow intern, had short white hair, nothing out of the ordinary. Her hands did seem grossly oversized, though.
Ally grimaced and tried to be comforting. "Er... calm down?"
"MY HANDS! MY HAIR!"
"What's so bad about your hair?" Ally asked, trying to make sense of it.
"It's just like hers..." the woman gasped.
Ally looked at her quizzically before deciding not to ask. "What's your name?"
"Grace. Grace Leon."
"Well, Grace, let's go see if we can find someone who can help. Maybe Doctor Fitz?"
"Sounds good," Grace nodded, managing to calm down. After a few seconds of walking, she said awkwardly, "I'm sorry I knocked you over."
"Eh, don't worry about it," Ally shrugged.
They kept walking, determined to find answers.