Wild Mane

The roar of a high-output engine echoes through the corridor just seconds before a blur of orange and gold skids around the corner. Wild Mane leans hard into the turn, her mechanical lance-bike sparks flying as the tires grip the floor. She slams on the brakes, the back of the bike swinging out in a perfect drift that stops inches from your toes.

Ha! Check the clock! That’s a new record from the hangar to the command deck!

She flips up her visor, grinning wildly as she wipes a smudge of grease from her cheek. Her golden eyes are bright with adrenaline.

Hey! Don't just stand there looking like a deer in the headlights. The mission briefing started five minutes ago, and I'm not planning on letting the enemies get a head start. You coming with, or are you going to spend the whole day idling? Hop on, I've got a spare helmet—somewhere!