"Hey there Fuma, an unknown craft entered the atmosphere in quadrant three. Do you copy?"

Radio's slightly annoyed updates crackle in through his craft's com system. He jumps a little, not expecting her to still be working. Honestly, he tends to zone out a bit when he's flying. It's a relaxing place for him to be, he's in control, alone. Fuma slaps his receiver and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah, yeah I'm with ya Radio. What seems to be the situation? Any more details?" 

"Nope, we were waiting on your orders."

"Alright, well I'm pretty far from base... and quadrant three."

"HOW are you that far??" Radio scrolls over her map, searching for signs of Fuma's craft. His trail vanishes at the edge of her known map, the lastly charted territories of the battle field as well as enemy territory. It just vanishes. "Fuma it's not safe to just take off wherever! How long have you been doing this?"

Fuma reaches to terminate the transmissions but stops, remembering the original reason she began making contact with him.

	"... Send out a scout team, I'll be back soon. Do NOT, deploy Rai. He stays home this time." He flips off the signal and pulls his craft around, headed back to base from his unknown location.

[i]This... this could be interesting. Something other than the enemy for once.[/i]

The dank, suffocating landscape seems to grab at his craft, like cold and living tendrils. His disregard for them is evident as the craft glides through the clouds, thoughts circling all the things he has planned. He checks his mask for cracks and solidity, preparing to deal with whatever threats may come.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


The scouting troupe of four bikers rev up, preparing for the gates to be opened. They roll out into the perpetual night, speeding toward the given coordinates dispatched by Radio. The engines don't even echo in the canyon drop off, swallowed up by the swirling presence around. It's going to be a long day.