It had been a while since she got teleported into this time. She had used these 'computers' at libraries to try to find information about her family, but she was unable to locate anything about them. There also tended to be no searches on this 'Google' that helped her find a way back to her time. She knew it was pointless and she knew she had to accept that. She didn't mind living in this time - it felt more right in her mind, at least in terms of progress. It was mostly her family that she missed. She had no way to ever know what happened to them.

In either case, she knew it was time. She had to make herself documented in the United States of America in... 2017. She sighed. She had picked out a few outfits with a couple friends help, primarily Charlie's. She couldn't wear her corsets and her dresses from her time and it was time she let that go. It felt fitting that this would be the first time she'd wear a 2017 outfit - a navy blue sweater and a long peach dress. It seemed like a nice outfit, anyways. Maybe she'd fit in pretty well.

She sighed as she began her journey to the police station. She had decided it was the safest bet for her to walk. Charlie had told her about the subway, the metro, and the buses but she wasn't for that. She didn't have a card, anyways. She brought a folder full of her information from the 19th century and headed off.

Once she arrived at the police department, she sighed and leaned against a column. It was overwhelming. There was too many people, no personal space, and no good places to hide. She was vulnerable, out in the open. She had all her possessions from 1862 with her. It was probably a bit dangerous, if anyone actually knew what she was holding. It was technically antiques. She knew she had to go into the police department, but she just gazed at the building with her now violet eyes. Was she ready to do this? Was the police department even the place to start this process? She wasn't even sure. But police officers upheld the law, right? Maybe they could help her. Maybe. 

(OOC: Amelia Mellitus)

The moment she had the opportunity for advancement or transfer into the MRC division, she was going to take it. The station loomed ahead of her, mockingly. Parking tickets. She'd been forced to give out parking tickets. These people had the same amount of respect for her as they would a rookie cop. Her other Earth self, the one who had been hired here, really must have had low standards for herself. She could have done so much more than this.

The times when she herself had dealt with a decision about what she'd wanted to do with her life were still fresh in her mind. It had only been a few years ago that she had worked to join a government agency, and been recruited into SUPER. This earths version of herself had chosen poorly. It wouldn't have been hard to become much, much more.

The fact SUPER had agreed with her assessment of the position, and potential for infiltration with local police did not make her feel any less pathetic for having to do lowly entry level things. Yes, being with the police would put her in a fantastic position to gather intelligence, both about this earth, and the mutant criminals inhabiting it. Yes, it would help her interact with various government agencies, and give her a reason to be in unique places at the right times.

On this Earth, the attitude towards mutants was different, but it was only a matter of time before SUPER gained enough support to truly get a handhold on this dimension. They had a base of operations set up, but they were forced to operate much more discretely. Their power was less. Things didn't work exactly the same way as they did in her dimension. They'd had to set up all sorts of accounts and false identities for a lot of agents who had come over to set up shop. She'd been lucky enough to be able to get her doppelgänger's phone, credit cards, and relevant information needed to use the things. It hadn't been difficult. They used the same passwords and banks. Some things are different; Some things stay the same.

As she came to the steps before the building entry, Amelia Mellitus stopped. There was a woman standing, eyes fixed on the police station. She had folders and papers in her hands. Dressed in full police uniform (minus hat, she preferred a ponytail, thanks), Amelia approached the woman carefully.

"Hello, miss. I'm Officer Mellitus. Can I help you?" She asked.

Gwen didn't tell Charlie that she was going to do this, though. She probably should have, but she needed to do this alone. This was her accepting her fate, her new world, her new timeline. She had plenty of other stuff to do, like find out about her family - is there any of them left? Did they die out? There was tons of information she had to find - and she could barely find anything. She was enjoying all the cat videos on the 'ViewTube', though. They were very silly and fun. 

She knew she needed to get a... Cell phone, too. She just wasn't sure what she would even do with it - she only knew Charlie and Gawain, and she only really ever talked to Charlie to begin with. Everyone else she just had met passing by, ordering coffee, getting dinner, or doing something else. No friendships were ever made. 

Either way, her mind was drifting from where it needed to be. She had a mission, a duty to finish. She was an honorable woman, even if she was from the 1800's. She needed to do things the proper, legal way and hope for the best. 

Gwen was in her own world and nearly jumped a foot when she heard someone approach and then actually talk to her. She put her hand over her heart and gasped, "Oh, my Lord. I apologize, you gave me quite the fright." Gwen was a little easy to scare, still. She was still nervous walking the streets. In her time, there wasn't even this many people in the entire country probably. There was literally millions of people all within a few hundred miles of each other. It was crazy but it showed the amazing progress humanity had made over the years.

Once recovered, she looked at Officer Mellitus with a perked brow, her violet eyes scanning and realizing she was, indeed, an officer of the law. "Yes, if you would be so kind." She sighed, where would she even begin...? "Do you remember on the... Television... And Newspapers, a few weeks ago about a girl running out of a train car that was teleported from 1862 here?" She waited for a moment for an answer, before continuing, "I am that woman." She hoped to the good God above that the woman had seen the news report, the investigations, etc so she wouldn't have to explain everything again. "I need to get my documentation, such my 'identification', updated. I have my 1862 documents, like birth certificate and passport, but nothing else. May you assist with that type of inquiries? If I need to explain the train car situation, I can," she sighed. "I just hate re-explaining it all the time," she muttered as an after thought.

Jumpy, Amelia noted. Definitely jumpy. A mental note was made to avoid shouting 'boo!'

The woman reassessed the situation, and came to the conclusion that yes, she could in fact use some help. Amelia noted the politeness that practically reeked of old world formality. You rarely get that on the streets of New York. It was a product of a good upbringing, potentially old money. Or maybe, just a woman who had a grandma that didn't like her being rude. So jumpy and polite. Mental notes, made. What it meant, she soon found out.

The topic of how she needed help was unique, to say the least. Had she seen something on television recently about a crazy train from the past that appeared out of thin air? SUPER training had taught her to keep an ear to the ground, and read newspapers for recent events... so she recalled reading something about that. The fact it had come from the past had stuck out to her, at the time, but she hadn't investigated it further. SUPER apparently hadn't moved on it. Maybe she was the only one who had noticed the news article?

"I read the article," Amelia could confirmed. "Yes."

The woman was that woman. Well then. Amelia's interest was thoroughly piqued. Time travel is something SUPER always has an interest in, especially after the hunter vs trace debacle. Sadly for the woman, Amelia hadn't heard the fine details of what had happened, just brass tacks. The woman probably had gotten tired of repeating the story, but she would simply have to be a soldier and carry on. She bobbed her head to show she heard and understood. Things were starting to click into place. Jumpy. Old world polite. A girl out of time.

If they could get more information on this woman, SUPER would be pleased. Better yet, if they found a way to keep tabs on her. Whether she was a time traveler or not, her contact bespoke of something. What that something was, wasn't clear just yet. But something... the woman spoke up about the main problem with her situation, and Amelia latched onto it. That was exactly what they needed.

SUPER contacts could help her arrange things for this woman. It probably wasn't something your average police officer could do. The contacts were weaker on this side, but one thing they teach you in SUPER is to know where to push.

"The Good news," Amelia said "Is that I can help you. Bad news is that I'm probably going to ask you to repeat your story again. At least, in part. We can talk more in my office. Follow," she said, jerking her hand in the direction of the building, like she were directing traffic. Amelia lead the way.

The sad thing about patrol officers is that they don't really have an office. You see cops with desks in television shows because it works, and because they focus more on detectives. That's the narrative. Police departments are well-funded, properly-manned, and lab technicians finish blood work and analysis within a few days of its submission. In reality, it's far less glamorous. Cops use clipboards or the interior of their patrol cars and their dash board computers to do their major paperwork. Computer pads, if they're lucky. Any old chair, to sit in. All paperwork to be done during downtime. They were in luck though! Stations sometimes have desks anyone can use. Communal desks. All it took was a little force and some glaring to procure one such desk. They found one towards the front of the station, beyond the front desk. Amelia told a guy to clear off because she needed to speak with this woman and use the desk, then invited her to sit down.

She sat herself down at the desk behind the desktop computer, placing her paperwork to one side, tapped a few keys to log herself in. Then, she nodded to the woman.

"So, you're time traveler. That must be interesting." She said.

The officer was listened, at least politely. She didn't immediately cut her off, question her sanity, ask if she needed to be escorted back to an insane asylum, or anything. That was always a good reaction. In fact, she didn't seem to make any real reaction. Such a good police officer, actually. Perfect in training. It calmed Gwen down a little bit, knowing that the officer was a professional. Plus, she read the article. Someone actually reads the newspaper in this time! Yes! That made her feel a little better about the situation, too. At least she knew the basics of the situation. Well, the situation that the newspaper knew of. They hadn't really figured out why it had happened.

She smiled, "Well, that is quite a fair enough exchange." She nodded a confirmation afterwards. If telling her story made her legal, that would be a worthy enough exchange. She needed to be able to have an ID that would let her buy liquor, as a great example. In fact, she really missed whiskey. Really missed it. She followed behind the officer as they walked through the police department. It was busy, hectic, and Amelia didn't really have an office - she just took a desk from someone else that had a computer. No complaints from Gwen, though, she understood that the officer had to do what she had to do.

She sat down in a seat in front of the desk and pulled it up. She laid her folder out and began to take the documents out, "Birth certificate, passport, um... other papers that show I existed in 1862." Including the letter about her marriage proposal to the Senator's son. She wondered if her family thought about her - if they wondered what happened, if she was dead or not. It was depressing not knowing what had happened to her family. Her next goal was to find out - maybe she some long lost relatives or something? They'd probably be her great great great great great nephews and nieces or cousins or something, but hey, family is family... Right?

She nodded, "Kind of. A mutant in the train car lost control of his powers - he was young. Maybe just manifested. Anyways, he practically exploded and the entire train car, including myself, was transported into the present. So, yeah, here I am." That was kind of the short and dirty version. It was the one that only she really understood, anyways. It left out her marriage, her reasoning behind the train car... If the officer wanted me, she could give her the additional information, of course.

The woman certainly had her documents in order. Amelia idly shifted them around on the desk on the woman placed them out, sliding them into an order that made sense to her. It was largely horizontal or at 90 degree angles, like the technique builders use with parts for machinery or models, with everything available at a glance, like with like, large to small. There was a name for it, but it escaped her. Her SUPER office back on her side of the rip had been very tidy.

The woman responded to her question.

"Oh, so you're not a mutant, then?" Amelia asked, then clarified. "That was one thing I wasn't quite clear on. I thought you'd moved the train. Something like that would be worth noting." She smiled. "For your updated citizen's informations." She felt like she were an inquisitor, or one of those people who'd supported and aided the mutant registration act of their time. Of course, she had looked into it and noted that such a movement had occurred on this side of the rip, too. It had been quashed. But this woman might not have known that, seeing as she was from the past. If nothing else, Amelia could chalk it up to being nosy, or it being on some form somewhere. Potentially, an outdated one. Easily dismissed.

Amelia picked up a folder from its place amid the order, and glanced over the information packets as she sat and listened.

Knolling. That was the word. Named for the furniture company famous for angular furniture, Knoll, which the term's originator's boss was producing furniture for when he first coined it. A janitor had arranged unused tools in parallel or 90 degree angles, to help him keep things tidy... and it had snowballed. Later people had liked it so much they had made it a thing. Funny, it was, how the janitor had done it, the furniture maker had used it, an artist had learned about it and made it famous, but the company they'd been making furniture for had gotten immortalized with the name, while everyone in between including the creator himself got the shaft. That was the way of the world, sometimes. People getting credit for someone else's talents. Funny, how the word came back to her while she was listening to the time traveling woman's reply... really had nothing to do with her, honestly. It was just a long-winded origin story about an obscure term. But whatevs.

If this woman wasn't a mutant, SUPER would be far less interested in her. That meant less likely to help... which meant Amelia might have trouble leaning on the right person to lean on the right person to lean on the right individual. She might not be able to leech off of someone else's talents, to help the woman out. And that would just be really sad.

Gwendolyn was trying to take in the busy police station. She could tell it did not have the funds necessary to have a proper, safe force. Despite all the advances in machines, it all still boiled down to one thing: the dollar. Even in this time, it had all become about money. She guessed it always was, especially after living an entire century before. 

She shook her head, "I was not that mutant. However, I am a mutant." Gwen didn't think anything strange about her asking about if she was a mutant or not. It made sense. She had to be honest with the officer, right? She was an agent of the law. Even if she was against mutants, there had to be things in place that would help her. It wasn't Gwen's fault she had some random X-Gene. Granted, at least the officer couldn't say she was possessed.

She took a deep breath, "I can view others through their eyes. So I can see what they see, I can hear what they say but not as well, and I can also whisper into their minds." It was so weird saying that out loud and she nearly whispered it to the officer. She didn't want others to really hear about that - it wasn't something that she wanted the world to know. Whether it was a bad habit that she kept from 1862 (after all, she could have been hanged for this) or if it was because of anti-mutant sentiments in the present, she wasn't entirely sure. 

She gave a weak smile, "So, I am definitely a mutant. I just did not do the time jumping thing that the boy did. Oh, the boy. He did not make it, rest his soul." Poor kid but hey,  at least he got her out of an unwanted marriage, even if it was a little extreme.

The concern Amelia felt about whether or not she'd be able to keep her word and help Gwen (thank you, neat handwriting on documents) promptly vanished at Miss White's reply. She wasn't a time traveler by genetics, but rather by unfortunate circumstances. However, she was a mutant! Amelia waited patiently for the woman to go on.

Elaborate, she did. Yes, Amelia thought, this was definitely something her superiors would be interested in. As a rule, SUPER doesn't discriminate against the different types of mutation; all mutations can be useful. Psychics and those with mental powers, such as telekinesis or psychic constructs are valued higher than, say, your run-of-the mill Badger Hand man. This power wasn't quite as potent and neatly packaged as the stalker. She didn't sense where people were, once she had their "scent", and then teleport to their location. What she had was far more useful for intelligence-gathering. Already, Amelia could see the applications.

She could see through peoples' eyes. That meant she could use that imagery to place them by landmarks, in order to track and locate individuals. That could double as a sort of GPS tool, with a little training. Gwendolyn could see what others saw, to find out who they dealt with. She didn't say she could hear what they hear, but a one-sided conversation was certainly better than nothing. If used on a fellow agent, it could work like a hidden mic and small camera, to allow her to keep in touch with them in the field. Better still, she could whisper to their minds, so in areas where a wire might be dangerous, her power would be better than gold.

Amelia kept her features calm and neutral, like a disinterested cop, just doing her job. It was too bad, about the time traveling boy. He would have been another excellent find. They could have used the boy. SUPER would probably not be too disappointed by the loss, though. At least someone with a power that potentially devastating to the timeline wasn't running around alternate world New York causing paradoxes or altering the past. He'd just... brought a train back to the future... not a flying train, but damn. All they were missing was Doc Brown.

It had to have been hard, her living through being transported to the future and suddenly, having lost everyone she ever knew or loved. More than hard. Amelia didn't think she needed to dig more into the woman's past. It wouldn't be fun having to relive it. Unless something came up that needed to be asked. Nobody else had survived the trip, not even the child. It had to be lonely, being the lone survivor.

"That's tragic, about the kid." Amelia agreed, with the requisite amount of emotion. "It's always sad when they die young." She didn't have to fake it much. It was sad. The difficult part of working in any job where you're exposed to violence and death on a routine basis is, you learn to distance yourself from it. Sometimes, it can make it hard to empathize. If you broke down crying over every dead body, you wouldn't get much else done. She wasn't inhuman, see? Just a little calloused.

"Don't worry about the mutant question. It's just a box we tick." Amelia explained offhandedly as she glanced through more of the papers. "It's a lot more common than you'd think. For instance," she confided amiably, and shot Gwen a small smile. "I'm a mutant."

She didn't make it a habit of sharing her mutation with people, but if SUPER were interested in this woman, it would be good to earn her trust and bring her in the old fashioned way. That wasn't why she'd shared, of course. The woman seemed honest and frank. For some reason, Amelia couldn't see the harm of sharing one detail. It cost very little, and helped people open up.

"Have you had your power long?"

Officer Mellitus was definitely a cop. She listened and made no real facial expressions. It was impressive, really. Gwen knew that she was an emotional wreck most of the time, at least now. She was in culture shock (time shock?) every single day. It was a learning experience, though, and she had to survive it. She had to persevere. And she would, she knew she would. Gwen was worried the Officer might get upset, paranoid, or freaked out by her mutation. Some people didn't like the idea of mutants and she honestly had no idea if she would be one or not. 

Yet, she had no real reaction to it. Gwen visibly relaxed now that that was in the out in the open. She even leaned back a little in her chair like they do now. No more sitting proper. It was kinda nice, honestly. The lack of etiquette this time had was relaxing, comfortable. 

She nodded, "Indeed." It was pretty sad about the boy. At first, she was just angry about him and the situation. It took her some time to realize he was probably just as terrified and in as much pain as she was when it happened. He probably had parents who missed him, maybe even on that train. She wasn't sure how her world would even explain the sudden disappearance of the train car. The work of the devil, maybe? A witch? Maybe she'd find out one day. 

She nodded. Just a box checked off. That was fine. She didn't really care, after all. She figured she'd be lucky to have no issues in getting her documents sorted correctly anyways. Gwen perked a brow and upon Officer Mellitus confession, she grinned big. That was a relief, no wonder she didn't care she was a mutant, "Oh, wow! That is amazing, what a coincidence. What are your abilities? If you don't mind me asking, of course." She had only met a couple other mutants in her time being in NYC. The ones she met in her time were usually being burned or were hanged.

How long had she had the power? She could totally make a joke here, "Well, a little over 150 years or so." It was a joke about her time but she quickly cleared her throat, "I manifested when I was a child." 

"Clothing Manipulation," Amelia replied simply. As said, she wasn't too concerned about sharing the details about her mutation. Knowing what it was doesn't really help people predict it in application. Near everyone wears clothing, after all, and it's how you use a power that matters, not what it is. What would someone do, if they heard she manipulated clothing? Take it all off to minimize their weak points? Seemed like that would only expose more. Badum tsh.

She smiled at the excitement over her mutation, and the joke about the woman's age.

"Heh. Gotcha. I seriously hope you weren't conscious for 150 or so years in transit. If it were me, I'd run out of things to do a couple months in and go mad-- ahem. Probably not an experience you feel all that happy thinking about.

"I'm going to go make a quick call and see what I need to do here to sort this all out." Amelia briefly excused herself and went to check in with HQ. After six minutes out of earshot, during which she filled them in on the situation, Amelia returned.

"Sorry about that," she said. Her fingers dashed across the keyboard, sending emails and taking names.

Appropriate people were being leaned on inappropriately to push this forward far faster than it would have, otherwise. Certain checks were also being put in place to keep watch on the identity for future reference. She consulted paperwork as she went. SUPER was working in the background too.

Clothing manipulation? Wow, that had to be super useful, especially for a police officer. Nothing like ripping the clothes off a bad guy. Can't really fight with your wooha or your dingalong waving about in the air with a gun pointed. Gwen appreciated the power, more so than her own, "That's quite a power! I imagine it comes in handy being an officer of the law." She chuckled, imaging some bank robber suddenly naked. It would be pretty funny, even if it would be kinda dangerous still.

She smiled at her dumb joke. Either she was being polite or maybe she did find it funny. Either way, she chuckled and shook her head, "Thankfully, I was not. It happened almost instantaneously. It was so, so painful, though. I felt every fiber of my being being ripped apart and then it felt like it was stitched back together again." She shuddered a little, trying not to remember the pain in the situation.

She nodded as the officer stood up to make her phone call. Gwen was content to sit and absorb the commotion in the police department. A few people were yelling profanities as they were escorted through the building. She shook her head. Humans would never learn. 

Once Officer Mellitus returned, Gwen nodded and waited for her instructions, "No problem at all. I'm sure this is a uh, unique situation. To say the least." 

"Yeah," she agreed with Gwen's assessment about her mutation. "My power has its uses."

---

The description of the time traveling train, the disorientation and the pain, made Amelia recall traveling through a rip in space and time. And rightly so, too, since the similarities were clear. She nodded.

"Yeah. I imagine it would be awful," she commented.

---

The people on the other end of the phone call had been very interested, just like she'd thought they would. The idea of keeping tabs on the woman was one they really wanted to maintain. All her work on her end was easy, compared to that of the people working away behind the scenes. It would be irresponsible to explain just what they were doing. Whatever it was, it worked.

"Not as unique as you'd think," Amelia replied to her, brow furrowed as she filled out yet another online form. "The rip in space time that recently opened has gotten people concerned with all sorts of things. I imagine there are some displaced folks who could empathize with your situation." Though of course, they could go back and she couldn't.

Amelia tapped at her keyboard, tap tap tapping away.

Gwen crossed her legs, nervously looking around the Police Department. She really wasn't sure what to do besides wait for the officer's instructions. It wasn't like she had any control at this point, anyways. She nodded politely at some of her comments but mostly kept focusing on the drunkards that were getting drug into the department. Right like in 1862. She nearly laughed about it.

She nodded, "I had heard about the 'rip' as it is called. I read about it in the newspaper. Freaky things, if you ask me." Not like she could really be talking, she had violet eyes and came from 1862. But still, at least her rip was easily explained and went away. This rip was just out and about, letting people come and go at will. Weird! She leaned in, perked a brow, "Do you know how it came to be?" 

She did know. Not many did. Technically it was top secret outside of the organization, but at the moment she didn't feel out of line when she shrugged her shoulders and said "I imagine it was similar to your child and the train. Only bigger and more permanent."

There! The screen told her she was done. Everything was in order. Or it would be, once the tech guys finished setting everything beyond the base task up.

Amelia looked at Gwen. "Looks like I'm done with the paperwork. I'll just need an address they can send updated documents to, as well as your shiny new social security card." Amelia didn't think social security had come into existence until after Gwen had left her time. It would all be new to her.

"If you want to get a card ID, you can take those things down to your post office along with whatever else they ask for, and they can get you an updated photo ID." Like a passport. If she wanted something like a driver's license, that was on her own time. SUPER and the US government would set Gwen up with the things she needed to pass the minimum requirements needed in order to both exist, and get photographic identification that said she existed.

"I can get you the address for the post office and the nearest DMV." Amelia added, as she gathered up the various papers Gwen had given her and arranged them so she could return them to their owner's care. "On an unrelated note," she ventured. "If you ever need to be shown around the city, I could give you my card."

Amelia passed the papers back to Gwen.

She nodded. A mutant had done that? “The world is a crazy place.” Wow, that must have been one crazy power. She wished her portal into her past was still here, it would make things a lot easier for her. At least people would be somewhat aware of it instead of never believing her…

It was done! She was almost officially a legal 21st-century citizen. Not a displaced citizen, at least. She nodded, took a small sheet of paper and grabbed a pen and it wrote it down for Amelia and handed it over to her. She couldn’t pronounce the name, anyway, so it was always easier for her to just write it. With a big smile, "Thank you, so, so much for this. You have my sincerest gratitude."

She had no idea what a social security card was but it sounded good and governmenty. 

The post office! She loved the post office. At least, in her time she loved it. It was different now, “Will do… And yes, please, if you do not mind. I do not quite know the addresses around here yet. Plus, these little… devices are not much help to me as of yet.” She was clearly referencing a cell phone as she pointed to her purse.

She perked a brow, “What is a DMV, though?” 

She smiled widely, “Oh, yes, I would quite love to be given a show around the city by you.” The officer was very nice and sweet to help her not only on a notice but so fast as well. The offer was very sweet of her.