[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/0vyHhwZ.png[/img][/center]
[right][hr][color=white][b]New York City, Manhattan[/b]
[color=gray]City Streets[/color][/color][hr][/right]
[indent]The taste of concrete, the smell of gasoline.

Koriand’r winced, face down some amount of distance away from what remained of the laboratory she had found herself in. She closed her eyes and reopened them, trying her best to focus away from the pain and discomfort. The impact of the transporters overload had blown apart the lab’s easternmost wall, igniting the building with unnatural fire, and tossing what appeared to be a variety of primitive transport vehicles on their sides. Some people were crushed under debris and metal while others ran away in fear as Kori’s pursuers called out for her in a toxic, vicious tongue. She knew the words well.

[color=gray][i]Find the slave.[/i][/color]

She couldn’t let the Gordanians catch her, but at the same time what kind of person would she be if she let innocent people be hurt simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? What kind of Princess of Tamaran would she be? These people had no chance against Gordanian weapons. The amount of energy she had left from X’chal was low, but she couldn’t just run away. She [i]wouldn’t.[/i] A bright hue of energy surrounded her and she pushed forward, flying above the streets as her hands began to glow with neon green energy. She would do everything she could. Even if it ended in her inevitable capture. 

[color=D25167]“You chase me across the galaxy? Your master must be proud!”[/color]
[/indent]