Ororo felt the tremor in the earth beneath her feet; the professor who was about to call an end to the Arabic languages course and her fellow classmates had nearly toppled over from the abrupt rattle. Luckily, nothing had fallen over. Ororo hadn't felt any seismic interruptions that great in some time. What--or whom--could be the culprit? Few people possessed a power which could cause tremors around the globe--but if there was one person who Ororo knew was capable of such a feat, it was. . . Jean Grey. The X-Men were retired though, right? This is what Ororo was led to believe; if one strong as Jean had been moved to display such a show of force then something was wrong. 

Once Ororo gathered herself, she collected her items: books, pencils, bag, and speedwalked to the classroom's exit, into the hall, and out the back door of the University. She went to enter her Volkswagen and she started up the raggedy car's engine; it was an elder machine she haggled from am antique auction a week prior. Backed up behind a stalled and seemingly endless line of traffic, she waited idle. A small sigh escaped her lips--inconveniences such as these were part of the reason she missed home. China was filled with so many people, genuine, respectful, peaceful people--but still an abundance of them. In the silence of the car, she couldn't help but hear those petulant thoughts swirl in her head,

[i]I hope this is not what I think it is.[/i]
[i]I can't afford to go back, yet![/i]
[i]Why now of all times?[/i]

She was just about to graduate, an involuntary re-insertion into a life of fighting crime meant an indefinite hold on these aspirations. Not only this, but she hadn't used her powers in years; she had reigned in her temper, her life had finally found some peace. No longer did she have to face the scrutiny which came with being a mutant--the slurs, the persistent grit of the responsibility of millions in her and her compatriots' hands. It was a pressure too great, and it was one Ororo was unsure she could bear again. She didn't want to jeopardize all that she had built since the incident in China, the place she now called home. Then again, the adventurer, the wild, the spark in her had been subtly resisting this docility she constructed for herself. Part of her wanted action--part of her wanted to be Storm again. Her phone rang,

"Ororo," it was Sharon Carter, the handler for all of the X-Men. If those tremors were indicative of what she thought, then Ororo knew what this call was about,

"Get to Bejing International. It's time to come home."