A boy rides his motorcycle through back roads, under a black sky. He has collected important information concerning the future movements of a deadly enemy, and is making the risky journey back to headquarters. 

	"Radio, am I free and clear?" He mutters into his dark helmet. 

Nothing. 

Still nothing.

	"Radio? You there?"

	[i]That's troubling... She never skips a shift.[/i]

The armored rider gears up his bike despite the increasingly pained hum it emits. It's risky, but if the engine is already this loud, there's no point in hiding in the back roads. He busts a right turn and skids on to main road, his bike glinting periodically under the flickering street lights. It's an abandoned city, one he has passed through many times. The battlefield is a haunted remnant of a destroyed civilization, a modern, thriving civilization. He doesn't really inquire about it, but occasionally the thought crosses his mind about what may have resided there in the recent past.

At any rate, the skeletal remains of the city make for excellent cover, and all the same for the enemy. But why should he care? He doesn't even want to be fighting this war. 

The faint light leading towards the headquarters appears and he guides his motorcycle toward it, gearing down quietly. He rolls into the hangar, his bike phasing through the armored door with it's shield. It's a bit busy, and he spots Fuma's bright orange hair easily. He swings his leg over the seat and pulls off his helmet, sore muscles making him fully aware of his numb gluteus maximus.

 "Fumaaaaa I'm back for debriefing."