Angie has a Plan. It's a pretty good plan, as plans go, when you take into account the odds of any particular plan working when you're about to fall potentially headfirst into a school where 75% of plans inevitably fail. 

Well, maybe a little less than that, actually, considering that some of those plans might involve not making it out alive. Like hers. 

Angie has a plan, and a vested interest in her plan working, and Angie has a little box with a lovely quartet of cute little mice that Alex doesn't know about. Alex knows about most of her plan, but he doesn't know about that. 

Alex objects to most of her plan, but Alex doesn't know what's good for him sometimes. Maybe he's right, actually, that it's not good for him, having a twin sister who's a malificer. But that's why Angie's saving the mice for a last resort situation, and planning instead to sell the babies to any less catious malificers, or maybe swap babies with them for more variety in the bloodline. If she lives long enough. 

She hopes she lives long enough. If she dies before Creampuff and Ichigo and Henri and Mario even have babies then she might as well have not come at all - not that she didn't try not to, but Alex has had years to convince her otherwise and was always going to win that argument eventually. Even if the Scholomance is cut off from the rest of the world surrounded by the featureless void and the dorm rooms are tiny almost featureless boxes with no way out but that void or the mal-filled hallways all night and she's going to be trapped, forever, for the rest of her life-

-but it's worth it, if she gets Alex out alive. 

Among the reasons her plan is likely to succeed, is that Angie is tiny. Angie is 40 kg soaking wet, which she certainly isn't at 12:58 am on the night of the Induction. Instead, with hair much shorter than it was the day before, she's 37.6 kgs on the dot and carrying almost as much gear as she weighs. This is a very very good thing (and, in fact, part of the Plan), because Alex is a giant at 6 foot even, and with an affinity like combat it'd be a waste if he had to waste himself away to get any kind of reasonable spread of gear in. So Jamie is carrying his clothes (enchanted) and his notebook and his pencils and his pills and his lap harp and his medical kit and his sewing kit and his hygene kit and even his sword, and Alex is carrying the muscle to guard her back while she works on not being a huge liability in a fight for the first few months. At least she's probably not going to be a liability in running away - with an affinity like movement she'll have to be pretty well drained to manage that. And she shouldn't be, hopefully, not after the first few nights, when the halls are as safe as they ever are, anyway. 

She's also carrying everything of hers, of course, and even a couple little things for Zed, their enclave-mate who's splitting the load with her. Besides the necessities - a short overview of which includes clothing (enchanted for defence and a little healing), collapsible water bottles, power-sharer, swiss army knife, a sleek trio of non-swiss non-army knives, her own sewing and hygene and medicine kits, her necklace which matches the one Alex wears, tuned to let her find him (thank you Zed), a bracelet inset with a large gem to hold her mana once she gets there, and more - she's got some rare materials for artificing, her earrings, one set enchanted for sharpened senses, one set for a little encouragement to watching eyes, to pass over her - the former worn, the latter stowed - some little luxuries like sweets and sweeteners, a letter and care package for her older cousin, Sara, who is a junior now if she's still alive-

And she has her mice. 

The clock ticks over to 12:59 am. Uncle Ned is there with them, his expression as blank as he can make it, though it's clear enough to her that he's fretting years off his life. Montréal doesn't have any seniors coming back this year so he has no way of knowing, yet, whether his eldest remaining daughter made it this far. And, of course, he loves the twins like his own children, and he's terrified and resigned about their chances. 

Still, ever the dutiful leader and father in spirit, he steps forward as the deadline nears, hands them their nausea pills - which they swallow down dry though not parched throats - and tells them he loves them. It looks like it hurts. 

But only for a moment, before the hook digs into her guts and drags her down the path to Hell - after a brief detour, one might say, through a hell of their own making.