Maya frantically clasped her arms around Calvin’s waist to keep from flying off the back as the motorcycle revved to life and lurched forward, spinning a spray of gravel into the air behind it. Her stomach twisted in knots as they raced across the rugged terrain. She wasn’t particularly fond of trusting a stranger to drive her, especially when they were zipping along at an unsettling speed. She felt as though one slight bump in the road might send her crashing into the darkness. She clenched her eyes shut to block out the dust and wind.  Over the loud engines, the Water Archon picked up bits and pieces of conversation –something about navigational plan and flipping-a-bitch. [i]I better not be the bitch they’re flipping…whatever that means.[/i] 

	After what felt like days, the bikes finally slowed as they approached and entered a large hanger. The harsh glow of artificial light greeted the scout troupe. White light bled into the black abyss outside and quickly dissipated into the shadows. With some help from Calvin, Maya eagerly hopped off the motorcycle. Her legs wobbled slightly beneath her as blood circulation returned to her lower extremities. Maya quickly resumed her regal demeanor with head held high and shoulders pushed back. She tugged at her jacket, straightening it out in a formal fashion and then brushed her fingers through her wind-whipped hair in attempt to loosen the tangles. She brushed dirt off of her leggings while gazing around the vast building, checking for any impending threats. People meandered about, but she could not immediately pick out a man in charge, or at least, that was until a masked teenage boy with unnaturally bright orange hair waltzed right up to her.
	
	"Welcome to the Circus, miss. I'm Fuma. Who might you be?" inquired the lad. Even though Maya couldn’t see through the black and white mask, she sensed that the boy was smiling. His appearance left her momentarily speechless. For once, someone else’s hair outmatched hers in ridiculousness.  

	“Hello Fuma,” she greeted slowly, making more eye contact with Fuma’s hair than eyes (or eye holes for that matter), “My name is Qiada Maya Lavandula, but please, just call me Maya. So, uh, could you please direct me to whoever is in charge around here?”