They had always said to work your passion into your paycheck; make sure that you've got a stable income while doing what you love to do, that you always have something to fall back on. Her own parents said that -- but then again, she'd left her home planet long ago, tattoos' meanings fading into the distance as Alyssa moved onto attempting to make a living at her dream.

Something about speederbikes had clicked with the Mirialan. Maybe it was the way the handles curved in her palms. Maybe it was the wind in her hair as she sped down a track. Either way, Alyssa attempted to make a name for herself in racing on the ground, although she could handle herself as much as she thought she needed to in the air.

An accident led to her trying to take on a more passive role with shooting contests where she was the one taking the guns. Her right leg wasn't as good as it used to be, but her reflexes honed in return. However, even then, it wasn't fulfilling -- and more importantly, it wasn't paying the bills. This led to her taking a menial managerial position at an Aratech factory under one (1) asshole named Robert, also known as Bob.

Robert was, in a word, incompetent. Alyssa started putting more and more of her time into her job in a desperate attempt to get him out of leadership. This strategy eventually worked, but for a different reason -- he got promoted out of the factory, with her efforts leading to a promotion as General Manager.

The peace wouldn't last long. Approximately two weeks in, she encountered what was apparently some form of white-hat team sent to her factory. Things just got stranger from there, with an invitation on a date from one Ran followed by false recalls and, finally, a holo-message. Alyssa had, quite honestly, been a dumbass.

The woman was never one for researching, but her newfound need to yell at this man led to closer scrutiny of what she was doing with her life. Where was the flair? Where was the fun? Where was something to make her feel alive? She had abandoned the hobby and passion she once knew and loved in order to try and feel alive.

Her job didn't involve much, luckily; outsourcing it was easy enough, and eventually her doppelganger would be making enough money to where she would receive more at the bottom end as well. These funds would go to fueling her passion once more, a rented speederbike racing across Lantilles to attempt to find a man she badly needed to see in-person.

So what if she wound up joining the Rebellion along the way? They were a means to an end, just like a company. They paid employees; they gave off hours to the members; there were promotions. The military was, surprisingly enough, an almost-seamless transition.

Thrill: Time goes by fast, even when you're not having fun. Something about that spark of life has been missing in Alyssa's life until now, and she's looking to reclaim it for herself once more. Whether it's in a race, in a chase, in a fight or in a club, if it makes her feel alive once more, it's worth pursuing.

Vehicle Superiority: Alyssa knows her way around landspeeders, airspeeders and ships like the back of her own hand, and she is determined to show this knowledge off. Her job is to make sure that she gets to drive so that way her comrades can do other important things, like shoot or hack or even lead if that's what they choose to do.

To kick things off: Alyssa is 6'1, and the boots she wears as part of her Heavy Clothing makes her half an inch to an inch taller. This doesn't make her taller than some members of SFL, although she sure does try her best.

Mostly, the woman looks ready to travel. A backpack and a utility belt are settled at her side; the blaster that hangs from said belt is a little more lethal than she tries to let it on to be, but seeing as she's terrible at deception, it's obviously deadly to someone normal. Her various other gear hangs on her sides and on the sides of her backpack. Oddly enough, this includes climbing gear; who knows where she got that?