[center][h1]Just a Traveler, Passing Through [/h1][/center]

Reality is what people think it is. And yet, what one calls reality is merely what one is able, or willing to perceive. You don't want to believe in monsters? Then a viral video you dismiss as CGI or a hoax. You don't want to believe in magic? Then you can go make fun of a group of "LARPers" who are dressed as wizards. Aliens? Its just a bunch of fringe people, aliens don't exist.

But the reality of reality is that perception can change in a moment. A meteor turns out to be an object from space, a cryptid turns out to be real, some show changes your understanding of existence. But some people never change. And some refuse to believe the truth so much they go out of their way to suppress it. Even if it means trying to kill it.

This town of mystery, home to the beings that the outside world refused to believe in, had one thing going for it. No matter how vile a person was who tried to denounce monsters and aliens as demons, or as fakes, they couldn't come here unless they met the right conditions. For those seeking sanctuary, it was a place of safety. Recently, a few monsters or general outsiders had turned up, bringing with them tales of being chased by humans of various backgrounds for one reason or another. But always with the same thread between them, an armored figure saving them, busting skulls, escorting them to safety, before telling them the town's name, and then disappearing into the night. The same figure being reported on and off across the world. The Rockwoman, a figure larger than life, a warrior of the night who struck down both lynch mobs and deranged monsters hellbent on harming innocents, but only killing when there was no choice. Better a person scarred for life, then a "monster" going to their grave smug. Urban legends had swelled the mysterious being to levels that one might have expected from most tall tales. Claiming that the armor hid their true form, a giant monster, or a human who knew the truth but swore to protect both, or a cross between the two. All sorts of crazy tales that you'd find on deep forum boards. Some stories were so out there that even the more popular tale tellers would scoff.

The reality was far from that.

The Rockwoman wasn't some larger than life figure.

In reality, she was just an ordinary looking person. Underneath that armor was a young woman, or looked so. A slightly freckled face, the most "bizarre" traits to her were her eyes, easily explained away as a genetic glitch, and her hair, excused as a wig or extensions. Even the few times a random person saw underneath her baggy clothing to the skintight outfit beneath, dismissed as a cosplay costume. She didn't dress to stand out, she looked like anyone else.

But that was the point. To hide in plain sight. By day, a normal looking girl, by night, the hunter. At least, that had been until a brush with a shotgun wielding pyscho hellfire and brimstone preacher had nearly caught her. She'd gotten away, but had been forced to lay low, travel from the South, to the North-west. After all, a dead body, a dead body killed in a decidedly not normal way...head melted, anyone, was enough to stir up a mob of crazed people. She had enough blood on her hands. She'd gone to a place she'd only sent others towards hoping it was really safe, and well, as of a day before, had arrived. Just a normal person you'd pass on the street, maybe question why the dark blue hoodie and jeans in summer, but otherwise not spare a second glance. But in a place of monsters and beings not normal, she was the probably abnormality.

The night before, she'd camped on the outskirts, hiding out of sight, just to be sure she had the right location. After all, magic fountain or not, she had to be careful. Also why she'd come in at night, using her tech to cloak herself, so even if someone was around at night, watching the way into the town, they'd see nothing. Not unless they had the ability to see heat. But it mattered nill. The sun had begun to rise, and for someone who hadn't slept at all, staying constantly alert, it was both a welcome sign, and a reminder of the need to move. Emerging from the makeshift shelter, she rose to her feet, brushing off, confirming that the hoodie was in place with its hood, and that no sign of the suit beneath was visible, before pulling the hood forward. A breath was taken in, before being slowly let out. And without any further hesitation, she began to walk.

Time passed, as she had walked, into the town, exploring, but acting like she was just out walking. Hopefully, this wouldn't draw any sort of negative attention. The last thing she wanted was a fight. But eventually, she came to the cafe's vicinity, and moved onto a bench across from the entrance, deciding it would be a good place to see if they had food and drink she could enjoy, while getting a feel for the locals. She smelled fire in the air, tasted it even. Perhaps a fire roared inside the building. She kept herself still, just a jeans clad hoodied figure, that in a worst case could be mistaken for a modern grim reaper. The robot was already present, and she could feel it's..oddity. Having a sort of sixth sense when it came to machinery, she felt a mystery to be solved, but buried that urge. Perhaps if the version of Sherlock Holmes she'd run around with once upon a time had been there, she would have been more confident, but she had to maintain that whole low profile. Ergo, despite the early morning situation, she just seemed to be a part of the scenery, motionless, only movement being her breathing. She was good at that. Waiting...

Hopefully she wouldn't get any odd looks before the place opened up....Right?