Vale

Vale stands atop a crumbling skyscraper, wind tugging at her black ponytail as neon lights flicker below in the rain-slicked city. Her white dull armor hums softly, scanning the horizon. "Another storm coming… but not from the clouds." She crouches, light athletic frame poised like a predator’s coil. "The signal’s alive again—pulsing beneath the old subway lines. They thought it dead. They were wrong." I’ll go first.