[center][h1] Serene, the Rockwoman [/h1][/center]
[u]January 5th, 1:15 PM[/u]
[u]Interstate 95, Southern end of Maine, Enroute South[/u]

Tires spun effortlessly against pavement, gripping the ground with ease. The landscape passed at a rate just barely under the speed limit for the road, as a motorcycle roared down Interstate 95. While on the surface it might have made one think of a bizarre love child of a chopper and a tour cycle, ultimately, it was alien technology that ran under the hood so to speak. And maybe a bit of magic. At the end of the day, it was Serene's personal cycle, a multi-purpose transport that could, with the right coaxing, shift its form to better suit whatever she wanted. And in this case, she wanted speed, but still feel comfortable. She had debated pulling out a different wheeled transport of hers, but after Champ's reaction to her mothership, and the gunship inside...she was pretty sure that pulling "ol'faithful" out of the mothballs and making it work would have given him a stroke. So it was the cycle. Gunship had been considered, sure, but it just didn't feel the same to fly over the road, as to ride along it. Besides, she liked the wind in her face, and the sensation of knowing that no one would hopefully shoot at her(as would be a concern if airborne in her gunship).

Part of her hated having to drive under the speed limit, rather than shift into high gear and use the cycle's maximum output, but the last thing she wanted was the government freaking out over a cycle breaking the sound barrier and possibly causing irrevocable harm to the ground and surrounding environments. Yeah, she was not about to get arrested for environmental damage. So taking it careful it was. And even then, she was more careful than usual, as before starting out, certain bits of tech from her collection had either been dusted off, or outright rebuilt, to hide her true appearance. Some folks didn't like women with big horns or wings. So a helmet that was bigger on the inside than it had any right to be it was, complete with enough room to hide her horns, and her wings...were wrapped tightly around her body as best able under her driving clothes. Which ironically, aside from the helmet, consisted of an overcoat cut just right to avoid getting in the way as she drove(magic or smart tech, perhaps?), that almost seemed more like a trenchcoat, and simple jeans and a short sleeve shirt. Though it meant she'd had to adjust how much of her body her biosuit covered. In this case, exposing her arms up to nearly her shoulders. Though if one looked too close(and she wasn't wearing the borderline a trench coat), they'd see the scales that sometimes were apparent when surface skin was rubbed off to expose the dragon skin underneath. There was only so much she could do after all, without risking setting off something. And of course, her long hair was kept in its standard braid. And a pair of shades over her eyes avoided that little pair of orbs from being commented on.

So all in all? Your standard "cool kid" attire, if the trenchcoat was a bit much. Roaring down the road towards the state borders, in a motorcycle that definitely didn't look normal. But why? Why bother leaving what was her "turf" in Iceland? Well, for starters, wanderlust. Or a thrill seeking heart. Soldier Serene had been meant to be aside, she loved exploring, gathering information on her surroundings, to better help her in future actions. And as much as she hated to admit it, staying inside her slowly developing tower was only fun to a point with most of the facilities for it not yet ready. And she doubted Champ wanted to spend anymore time there than necessary if he wanted to see her. Probably had to do with the few robots she had building the facility that did look like they had jumped straight out of a video game. So in short, cabin fever mixed with her need to learn had driven her to fly across the ocean to Maine inside her cloaked gunship, before landing in a confirmed secure location, before switching to her motorcycle. The gunship had updated orders to come find her if something went wrong on either end, and thus its autopilot would guide it to Serene if needed. Hopefully no one went poking around in the woods and found the alien craft sitting there. She could only imagine the news.

Shaking her head briefly, Serene checked a device affixed to the handlebars, her own version of a GPS, using old information to plot her course. New York City was still a longways away. Worst case, she'd have to spend the night somewhere. Best case, she drove through the night. She didn't know what state the melting pot of a city was in, but if she was to start anywhere to search for information on various topics of interest only to her, it was the best place. Bound to be some aliens who knew what she was after. Sure, she could have asked those nice Lantern folks, but she didn't want to bother them so soon after helping her land. Maybe if she saw them again? But one digresses.

Driving like this, without a "care" in the world almost reminded her of another time, another place. But as the thoughts came, she pushed them aside. She would let them consume her later, the memories. Till then, she had to focus. While also monitoring the "scanner" attached below the "GPS" of her machine. Just incase something interesting came from any local police. Who knows, a detour could be fun, or even give her information about her own goals. Plus, never hurts to do good, right? For now though, she just focused on driving, enjoying the wind whip past, her shades hiding a twinkle in her eyes, that was, however, reflected in the smile that was more a smirk. It felt good. So good in fact.

New York, here comes the Rockwoman.