Blitzing high over the city layered in a thin film of air the Ziccarra monitored the developing situation from afar. From what she could gather there was a man gunned down on the streets, and now there was sort of a bank robbery going on.
This America was no different than her own. "These people ave no wegawd fo' thee' own statesmen" She groaned before landing adjacent to a dark alley and a long road. Positioning herself inbetween a man with a duffle bag and what seemed like his escape route.
"That does not belong to you, come peagefully and no one will ave to get a't" She asserted, pointing in the man's direction with her own crimson energy climaxing but not firing just yet.
It wasn't some sort of cosmic event that saw the Queen of Pax-Africana deposited here, she was here on her own accord. On her world, an alternate universe version of herself known as "The Championess" attacked and killed Maya Summers. She didn't stay to mourn as she quickly gave chase to the woman through a wormhole which eventually deposited her here.
She wasn't alone, however, the man she'd chosen as her future husband traveled with her. Despite having sworn to avenge the death of her mentor, Ziccarra knew it was pertinent to get him back to Earth-6.
"You seem twoubled" His eyes bore down on her, she could feel them, but even then she only cared to give him a couple glances nothing more.
"It's nothing" she retort fixing his coat and tie.
"Fo' you? Ending a waw of continents is nothing. This? this is diffa'nt."
Allowing her hands to slide effortlessly behind her back, Ziccarra moved stride for stride with her husband-to-be toward an opening overlooking the city of New Orleans. Though she was visibly in deep thought, he could tell she missed the allure this city had in their own world. The American Union had not yet ended its continental Race War. Hundreds of African Refugee's, descendants of slaves crowded the borders of Pax-Africana looking for salvation; while the majority of their kind fought to keep their stake in the Americas.
"I met anotha' one. Anotha' Me. Unlike the White Woman, this one was ispanic in nata'. But I could tell fwom subtle feata's that she as woots in Afwica."
His hands slid across the small of her back before pulling her in close enough to breathe down the nape of her neck.
"Dawling. These women jozt ave yoa' name, but they will neva' be you."
As he spoke, Ziccarra's eyes glazed over with a deep blue hue, something was happening. There was a disturbance somewhere in the city.
"No beloved. These a' not yoa' people. You don't ave to go." He pleaded, holding onto her hands. But he knew deep down there was no changing her mind. Ziccarra Monae Liafador.