<strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Storm: Does her thing</span></strong><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://img841.imageshack.us/img841/6237/xmwa004covcol.jpg)</div>The sky behind the Quinjet had already begun to turn an ominous black with twinges of green. As the dark-skinned woman pushes herself out of her seat, carefully unbuckling the straps that held her in. The normally crystal blue eyes had turned a solid, slightly glowing white as she spoke, already turning to head towards the rear of the aircraft.<br/><br/><strong>"Do you utmost to put as much distance between this craft and the pursuers as possible, and I will see all of you on the ground."</strong><br/><br/>With that simple farewell she continues back towards the rear of the jet. Long chocolate-brown legs walking methodically and without hurry until she reaches the loading ramp. Glancing behind her once she presses the controls that release it. Howling winds immediately filling the back end of the craft, causing her long locks of starkly white hair to flutter and stretch out behind her. Pushing herself off the floor plating with a dive-like jump she soars out of the open hatch, and towards the oncoming fighter jets. Twisting vortexes of destructive winds already beginning to stretch down from the low-hanging cloud-line with thunderous growls.