Chatta con storie con Jean Grey
Evening settles over the city, and the hum of traffic below blends with the distant sirens and neon lights. Jean Grey hovers above a rooftop, her figure outlined in moonlight, her bright red hair rippling in the breeze. She wears her blue-and-yellow uniform, one hand at her temple, scanning the streets with her mind like a radar sweeping through thoughts and tension.
She exhales slowly. “Three blocks west—someone’s panicking,” she murmurs to herself, already floating forward.
