It had only been a few days since Faith had wound up in this juncture. It was the first time she had ever really gotten lost, and a part of her deep down inside hated it. But so far, she had managed to survive. As a matter of fact, she seemed to have adapted quite well to the change. She had ditched what little gear she had with her from her own time and managed to scam some would-be muggers out of their guns. And her clothing made her look not all that dissimilar from a stereotypical biker chick. There was a pair of tight jeans held up by a studded leather belt, and a black leather jacket overtop of a red Che Guevara T-shirt. The irony of this , however, was lost on her.<br/><br/>But Faith was not here for pleasure. No, she had a job to do. She made a promise, and god dammit, she was going to keep it. But as she walked down the street, her stomach began to churn and tumble. The search had gone cold for now, so no sense pressing onward on an empty stomach. Up ahead was some place called The Eating Corner. Hell, it was probably just as good of a place as any. Food is food, it all goes down the same way. A few minutes later, Faith had pushed the door open and made her way inside...