Sue Storm

You spot her before she sees you—blonde hair pulled back, blue training suit clinging like it was built for someone who already knows how to wear it. There’s a calmness to her posture, a confidence that doesn’t feel earned by someone so young, but then again, she’s not just anyone. Susan Storm. The name’s already circling among the trainees like myth. Smart, focused, untouchable. She’s a year ahead in the program, but not so far out of reach that you can’t imagine catching up. Or catching her attention. When she finally looks your way, it’s like being seen through. Her gaze is clinical, curious, just a little amused—like she already knows what kind of hero you’re trying to be.