<div class="floatleft">(http://i183.photobucket.com/albums/x111/Lammy519/Models/Girl20/23456gfd.jpg)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong> Natalie Strachan<br/><strong>Title:</strong> The Hacker<br/><strong>Location:</strong> En Route to the Starting Line - Somewhere Along Highway 16<br/><strong>Tags:</strong> Nilcho</span></span><hr/>Natalie was in a mood. <br/><br/>There was no placing where it started, or even what to call it. It was just as though something was lightly scratching the back of her neck, telling her to just be irritated. To be baffled and stumped was a feeling that the young blonde wasn't used to, especially in the virtual/electronic realm. As irked as she was, just thinking about that fact and all the blonde jokes that never really applied to her made her smile. Like many of the others in the crew, Natalie found peace and comfort on the roads. She did it more for the freedom and the special sort of emptiness that allowed her to think upon things that didn't occur to her in her regular day, while she could only assume that the others did it to whip around this corner and drift around that bend for the thrill of it all. On that thought, in a bout of recklessness, she sped her Honda CBR motorcycle into a turn, letting go of the throttle until she hit the apex, then roared through the rest of it. <br/><br/>That smile lingered much longer than the first.<br/><br/>Natalie wasn't known for her ability to ride her motorcycle to suicidal speeds or tracks, but the occasional thrill was enough to keep her tame for the most part. There was little in the name of confidence that would drive her to consider entering a race even if she wanted to. Her MO was to stay in the background, to help her crew do what they did best: steal cars. The young woman steered away from the driving side of the operation as if it was on principle. She could probably install little gizmos in their cars, different readers and gauges to give them a little edge on the competition, but she had no heart for it and the crew are lovely enough not to breathe down her neck about it. Natalie pinned it up to their appreciation of her work elsewhere.<br/><br/>Her heart settled from the rush she put herself through as she continued down the road to the starting line. Natalie caught the middle of a chill, electronic tune (http://youtu.be/7vi5Pt51Af4) through her headset that she had installed into her helmet. There was a fair chance that there was already a market for such things, but why bother buying it if you can make it on your own, right? Another one of her joys was indeed music and having it on the ride with her, alone, to the race track made her heart grow three sizes and her smile that much further from fading. Unfortunately, on her bike, she couldn't blare it for the sake of being able to hear the other patrons of the road and the humm of her engine underneath her. Not to mention it was just a plain hassle to make her iPod skip the occasional annoying song on her playlist, so it was safe to keep it quiet in those instances.<br/><br/>Mood? What mood?<br/><br/>Soon enough, the young blonde rolled up to the starting line, catching the usual, curious looks from the other drivers. It wasn't so much that they knew her and wanted to let her know that, but it was more in that they were wondering why someone was bringing a motorcycle to a car fight. Natalie was used to this and the veterans of the night time, illegal racing scene were quick to turn their heads back to their cars. While still atop of it, Natalie slowly guided her ride to the side of the road, well behind the starting line and began to get comfortable and be a regular spectator. With a heave, Natalie rolled her bike back up onto its main stand before removing her helmet, letting loose her flowing blond locks. She stayed there, blinking a few times to allow her golden brown eyes the time to adjust to more natural lighting, rather than the slight tint of her helmet. Stepping off her bike, she pulled each finger loose from her thick biking gloves, admiring the little vents around each knuckle as she did so. Not very eager to carry the heavy helmet around (which now had her gloves in it), Natalie strapped the bulky mess to her bike, turning away from it as soon as she did to walk around and hope to find someone from the crew. Even if this wasn't the best place to find the most upstanding citizens on the west coast, Natalie felt pretty safe leaving her helmet alone on her bike. For one, no one here was going to just take a helmet for the fun of it, because, two, Taras would hunt that unlucky soul down and teach him a lesson. Or at least she thought he would, it rarely came down to that for him anymore - something about jail time - she really didn't care to know. <br/><br/>Before getting too far away from her bike, Natalie stopped and took a moment to make sure she was in at least some sort of shape to be seen in public. Bending down at the waist, she checked to see if he hair was still in place, or at least managed to stay away from the dreaded helmet hair. She did well for the most part, thanks in part to the vents in her helmet. Considering she didn't feel there was anyone here to impress, she was going to be just fine. Straightening herself out, she went on to do the same to her clothes, opting to leave her black protective leather jacket on, along with her near-black jeans and straight black tall boots that had no heel to boast about, if only just for the ease of kicking her bike into gear. Natalie curled her lips into a frown, only now realizing just how morbid and dark (literally) her outfit was. Whatever. No one to impress, right?<br/><br/>Satisfied, with no real choice in the matter, the young woman walked from one end of the parking lot to the other, settling down by some fencing that saved anyone from getting too close to the scenic view. "<strong>Seattle,</strong>" Natalie said under her breath to no one in particular. It was more to just answer a trivia question never asked than to be informative. Who was around to hear, anyway?<br/><br/>There's that mood again.</div>