France: 2140

[Elisabeth Sibylle]

It was late, well past the time people were usually out, but she knew of no curfew and just needed to get away. The streets were quiet, or at least they were until she sped by. The sound of her motorcycle shattered the silence, but she was happily surprised at how well her bike sounded. After all it had been about five years since the thing had been started, let alone driven. Slowing down she pulled over and stopped under a street lamp. She wanted to check everything once more quickly before heading off again. It was still in amazing condition after its five years of storage but she could feel that it was running a bit on the rough side, but how could blame the machine?

She loved this Voxan, most likely because it was one of the only fond memories she had of her brother and father. They had taught her how to ride before things got too bad, and had been planning on giving her this bike before everything fell apart. The only things she missed about her family were the times they had spent working on motorcycles together, but she had to give that up along with everything else she had known when she was fifteen. She shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present after remembering that she was still on the stopped bike in the city. . “let the past stay buried,” she chastised herself. That part of her life was now long gone and there was no point in thinking about it.

Turning off the engine and slipping off its side she stood next to her prized possession, and just looked it over once more. This may seem strange for a woman but it had its sentimental value and well Elisabeth wasn’t a typical female. She flipped up the visor on her helmet as she knelt down to take a closer look at the engine. Her family had taught her well and she knew enough to tune this thing up enough to keep it running smooth for a long time. “Baise!” she cursed as she reached out and burnt her fingers on the motor before thinking about it. “You damned fool! Did you forget that it gets hot?” she whispered shaking her head holding her hand. She smiled faintly despite the burnt hand; she had always had a problem waiting for the motor to cool off before trying to tinker with it. Reaching out again, more cautiously this time she was able to touch it for it had cooled enough to tolerate the heat.

Fixing what she could in the dim light and by hand she stood, flicking the visor back down to hide her face behind her helmet. Her clothes were black, and practical for her joyriding, not tight but not baggy either. She would have blended into the night itself which could be a good thing if she was questioned by any prying eyes or curious ears.

{ooc: a bit short so sorry but I just wanted to get something going, hope you don't mind}

[Eric Sutton]

Eric sat in the oversized arm chair. The clock ticked closer and closer to the midnight hours. He wished he could have just went into the bedroom and fallen into a deep deep sleep that would last until he wished to once again wake, or maybe just sleep on into the Omega.But of course he could not sleep a wink or two longer. He had gotten his three hours of sleep, all he had ever taken since his father had left him in the big bad world to fend for himself at the young age of only 17. But that seemed more then a decade ago now, however it had only been two years. There was only one thing that he could think of the would sooth his body and mind now. And that thing was 400 horses riding on two wheels.

Eric was already fully clad in his usually attire. That including a button down shirt loosly tucked into a pair of blue jeans and a pair of brown shoes. With a grown he pushed himself from the clinging arms of the chair, once he was save from its death grip he began to search for a jacket. The barn jacket was nowhere to be seen, however he did find the brown leather jacket he had found in one of the cars he had boosted a few months ago. Slipping the well fit jacket over his shirt he then grabbed his keys and sunglasses. As he closed the door he set the glasses on his nose and headed for the stairs, acompanied by the sounds of jazz filling his ears from the music store downstairs.

Once out on the street he headed down a back street and opened the garage door. Inside was his newest car, a Peugeot 407 Silhouette. He remembered that event well. It had been only last month and the sun had been just rising. There the car was, just sitting there asking him to take it. God, how he itched to steal it. Looking at that car was better then any woman he had ever met and he jumped for it like a puppy dog for a treat. Turned out the car belonged to a high ranking member of the Paris Gaurd, but, it was worth it, if only for that first ride, yet he had been blessed with the honor of now unofficially owning it.

Next to the car, the only vehicle he had ever worked for. A motorcycle, a Boxer to be more correct. With the politness one would give the queen herself he mounted the bike and turned the key. It instantly let out a purr that sent a chill down his spine. God he loved that machine. With his foot he flipped up the kick stand and revved the engine a bit, just to kick up his adrenaline a bit. Then, with a kick of the gas he sent him and the bike out into the road. Skidding to the left and cut off a car and then he cut down a side street before popping up on one of the empty, major intersections. Three more turns and he came to a idled stop just behind another person on a bike.

He put down the kickstand and dismounted the gas eating beast. Removing the key he pocket it and then moved towards the rider, who he could now see to be a woman. "Excuse me, is there any trouble ma'am?" His French was a bit shacky when he spoke it and h said it with the accent of a Scotsman.

[Elisabeth Sibylle]

She looked over her shoulder as she heard the familiar sound of another engine roaring along the streets. It was easy to tell it was another motorcycle, so she turned back to her bike. She paused for a moment wondering if she should just get on and keep riding or wait around and see who else was out at such a time. She smiled as her curiosity got the best of her and she turned to the direction this mystery person would be coming from. 'nice bike' was the first thing she thought as he pulled up behind her. She didn't even notice the man that got off of her until she was done looking the machine over.

"Excuse me, is there any trouble ma'am?" she heard his voice and looked up to him. Trouble, what did he mean by that? Was he some brainwashed Guard and was he wondering if she was causing trouble or was it just a question and should she leave it at that. She closed her eyes, which still hid behind the visor; her paranoia was getting to her again. For all she knew he was just some average joe out for a ride. She paused, thinking about his voice, it sounded different as if he had lived somewhere else and wasn't used to speaking French.

This gave her a small reason to relax, but only slightly, most of the Guard could speak French with ease because they spent their whole life living under Burr rule and all of the higher up's in the administration spoke the language flawlessly. Flicking the tinted visor up so she could see him better and he could see her face she shook her head lightly "No, no trouble here, just trying to get it running a bit better" she said pointing back at her bike. Her voice was light and unusual for Elisabeth it didn't drag itself down with exhaustion. “What about you, sir? What are you doing out so late?” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice as she watched him to see what his reaction would be.

[Eric Sutton]

"Ah Miss Sibylle, I didn't see you under that visor. You do not know me I imagine names Eric Sutton. Member of the Resistance. The car theif. Lemme see, dad was Scot Sutton he has been with the Resistance for a good long time." he stopped, letting it sink into her mind, seeing if she could recall him at all. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't.

He smirked to himself behind his glasses, glad he had worn them. He was not the type of guy who enjoied to talk to women, old or young. Being raised with only a father for more then half his life probably helped that out a lot. Much easier he felt to talk to a guy who you could somewhat undersatnd then a woman who had not only a different type of life, but a different type of body and feelings and the works. Closest he had come to love was his bike, or maybe the theif of the vehicles.

"Ma'am, I am out because I have already slept more then my share of the night away. As I sleep night ticks away before my eyes. If I do not take my life by the horns then think of all I would miss out on. I have a way of life, a place to live, and a thing to love. Now I must let all work together to find the sweet spot. And what pray tell, are you doing out at such a time in the city?"

Short, but I am in a rush

[Elisabeth Sibylle]

“Ahh Miss Sibylle…” she heard her name and was surprised he knew her. She had recognized him but had no idea from where. His face was vaguely familiar, but those glasses he had on hid more than just his eyes, but they seemed to hide a piece of his personality and soul. “Eric Sutton” a faint smirk came across her face, she did know him, he was in the Resistance so at least her first impression wasn’t completely off base. “Yes, Eric, I do remember you, somewhat at least. It seems that you already know my name but I’m Elisabeth Sibylle. Hmm, oh well can’t really tell you anything about my parents and have always been part of the Resistance, in my heart anyway.” she smirked, now that was really only partly true. Elisabeth had no parents, but she had had a family as Adèle, but that was not who she was anymore.

In her younger years she had been a lot closer to her father and brothers than she had been with her mother so it came easy for her to talk to guys. She had loved her father, but he was just like the rest of her family and didn’t have the want to stand up for what she knew was right. When she left she left everything and the only thing that could keep her going was the fact she knew what she was doing was right.

She smiled at his explanation of being out so late ‘Men can be so funny sometimes, always have to have some elaborate reason for doing something. He probably just can’t sleep, like most of us.’ she pulled her helmet off and set it down on the seat of her bike, it sounded like she wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon. “Hmm? Oh me, well I’m out for two reasons. First of all, this time of night the streets are empty so I can do pretty much whatever I want and also I just plain can’t sleep.” she said simply as she started walking toward him. She moved around him, like some predator circling its prey but her attention was on his bike “Beautiful machine you’ve got here Eric…” she said softly as she paused behind him looking at the motorcycle he had ridden up on.

[Eric Sutton]

Eric gave a slight nod. He knew that was how most French citizens felt, the problem was that most didn;t have the balls needed to stand up to one of the Guards, let alone the goverment. It was almost blasphemy to think of doing such a thing, which was one of the reasons he loved it so. Of course the other reason was so he could get out of this terrible place and back into the modern world where book burning was and had been illegal for some 400 years. He reflected on the history class he once had and what France was today reminded him of yesteryear's Cuba. France was stuck in the beginning of its seeming end, about ten years before.

Eric gave a quick, silent, laugh as he watched the woman's facial expression after he gave his reason for being it. She thought it toal bull, or so the eyes said. "So you know, it is true." He said defending his reason. A line from an old country song flicked through his head, 'Thats my story, and I'm stickin' to it.' And so he would, just like he did to all his Words-0-Wisdom. "Ah, another of the restless child. I am glad I am not the only who sleeps not. As for the streets bring to your self, not sure I can back that up. My area we got Guard's everywhere."

"Thanks, only thing I think I have ever worked for, really."