Aleksander paused beside his Ducati Scrambler 1100 Sport Pro, the bike's matte black bodywork and retro lines gleaming under streetlight. The exposed trellis frame added a technical edge, its brown leather seat tapering towards the rear, while the high-stacked metallic exhausts hinted at rugged intent.He swung a leg over, settling onto the seat, the golden USD forks and LED headlight glinting ahead.Wednesday, arms folded, arched an eyebrow and frowned. Her eyes flicked over the bike, unimpressed. "I thought we were going by using your teleportation magic?"
Aleksander offered a relaxed smile. "I thought we try a different approach."
Wednesday didn't blink. "Teleportation is faster. Also, California is on the other side."
(Note: They were in New Jersey now. The trip ahead was nearly 2,800 miles.)
Aleksander shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Don't worry. I'll make sure we reach there fast." He tapped the bike's matte black tank lightly. "Also, this is way more fun."
A blue blur zipped past—Stitch darted in, eyes wide with excitement, ears pricked high, tail flicking. He scrambled up onto the fuel tank and bounced in place. "Oooh! Vroom-vroom!" His mouth split into a gleeful grin before he shot Wednesday a sideways snug look, waggling his eyebrows with mock challenge.
Wednesday's mouth drew into a thinner line. Her gaze narrowed on Stitch, annoyance clear even in the set of her jaw. Still, she moved behind Aleksander, prim, posture stiff.Stitch, not missing a beat, faced her with a mischievous tilt of the head. He bared his teeth in mock seriousness: "Grumpy face comes too? You hold on tight! Or—poof!—nothing but shoe left." He made a popping gesture with his paw and a teasing wink.
Wednesday glared, eyes icy. "You're not helping," she muttered.
Stitch responded with an even bigger grin, ears flicking and paws waving in the air as he simulated the rush of riding. He made engine sounds under his breath: "Rrrrmm, rrrrmm!"
Aleksander leaned forward, fingers tracing the ignition key, then paused to adjust his helmet. Glancing quickly to Wednesday and Stitch, the smallest suggestion of a grin tugged at his lips.His hand found the handlebar; matte black against the golden USD forks. With a practiced flick, he slid the key into the ignition. The dashboard blinked to life, gauges briefly illuminating and casting a pale blue glow over the fuel tank's subtle "1100" graphic.Wednesday watched, arms folded tightly, her lips pressed in a patient frown while Stitch bounced on the front of the seat, ears perked and both paws gripping the tank.
Aleksander gave the starter a firm press. The air-cooled L-twin engine kicked in with a mechanical growl, a rumble that deepened and echoed through the high-mounted exhausts. He rolled the throttle for a moment—the bike answered with a throaty metallic bark, the sound pulsing between buildings while the LED headlight cast a crisp halo out front.Stitch shrieked with delight, clutching the tank with one paw and waving the other.
"Vroom-vroom! Go fast!"Aleksander checked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Wednesday. "Hold tight," he said, voice carrying just the hint of a dare.
Wednesday's jaw tightened, but she climbed behind him, hands firm on the seat's edge. Her eyes locked forward, expression unreadable.Aleksander twisted the throttle again, letting the engine snarl for an instant longer. He released the clutch, the Ducati rolled forward smoothly, alloy wheels glinting as they caught the overhead light, semi-knobby tires gripping the road. The exposed trellis frame shimmered, highlighting every vibration.With Stitch's laughter ringing and Wednesday silent behind him, Aleksander steered onto the main road, the compact indicators flickering as the trio sped away into the night—disappearing in a torrent of engine sound and the staccato gleam of the tail light.
Wednesday watched Stitch bouncing excitedly in front on the bike, eyes gleaming with innocent delight. She muttered dryly, "Wait till he finds out how long it takes to reach there."Aleksander smirked, his fingers resting lightly on the rune etched into the side of the handlebar. "You might want to hold on tight."
Wednesday's gaze sharpened, a flicker of premonition crossing her features.Without another word, Aleksander touched the rune again. It glowed softly at first, then with a steady pulse that spread through the metal and leather.The motorcycle's engine growled louder, then shifted—losing its connection with the ground. The matte-black Ducati began to levitate, wheels spinning slowly in the air, suspended as if carried by an invisible current.
Aleksander's hands gripped the handlebars firmly as the bike lifted higher. The golden front forks gleamed in the sunlight, the round LED headlight cutting through the darkness like a beacon.With a quick twist of the throttle, the Ducati surged forward—not just rolling on the pavement, but soaring through the air. Exhaust pipes emitted a faint shimmer, and the sounds morphed into a deep, powerful roar.
Stitch whooped with exhilaration, ears flapping wildly and claws digging into the tank. "Fly! Fly! Stitch fly!"
Wednesday tightened her grip behind Aleksander, eyes wide but silent, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as they left the ground and raced toward the horizon.
Aleksander activated the invisibility with a subtle touch. Around the bike and his form, a shimmering layer of blue radio waves began to ripple and bend the light, creating a dynamic distortion in the air. This effect shimmered like heat haze, signaling their fading presence. As the waves gently expanded from near Aleksanders, Wednesday's and Stitch's face, the bike along with them gradually vanished from sight.
Aleksander, with Wednesday seated behind him and Stitch perched eagerly on his shoulder, brought the bike down from the air and parked a short distance from the California Bureau of Investigation. The engine hushed, golden forks and blacked-out frame catching stray morning light as the trio dismounted.Stitch peered around, eyes wide and ears flicking in every direction, his curiosity impossible to miss.
Not wanting to draw unwanted attention, Aleksander quietly murmured a Cloaking spell. As he finished, a shimmer passed over Stitch—he now appeared visually undetectable, but only to all but a select few nearby. For most passersby, the spot where Stitch sat on Aleksander's shoulder looked perfectly empty, while Aleksander and Wednesday exchanged the briefest knowing glances before heading towards the Bureau doors.