Jean still hadn't gotten over how much TV had changed since "her" time, but here it was literally just the bad stuff. All the time. Like, the worst of the worst. Jerry Springer and Maury Pauvich and Steve Wilkos. Fashion Police. Court shows confusingly enough. It was just... daytime television. On every channel. And when it wasn't that, it was recordings of superhero fights. Spider-Man versus some creepy vampire guy, the "replacement" Fantastic Four versus the Mole Man, something about Captain America on a distant planet? Some other alternate future? None of this made sense.
The windows in her room were unbreakable. And even if they weren't, she was up really high. If she had her powers, she could float herself down nice and easy. But as she stood now, all she'd manage to accomplish is making herself a redheaded road pizza.
This world... Mojoworld, whatever... it just wasn't right. There were giant floating televisions showcasing the violent acts from her world. Skyscrapers pierced the horizon, and the sky was a sick purple even this late at night. Below her, even this high up from her penthouse, Jean could see the people of this world--the Spineless Ones--skittering around on those awful metal harnesses. Jean had seen a lot of shit in the past few months. Even before coming to the future, she'd seen a bit of the ugliness humanity had to offer towards the mutants. But this... this was scary.
Since coming to the future, there wasn't much time to think about the Professor they'd left back in their time. They had really just gotten to know each other before Old Hank took them away to help with Old Scott's "mutant genocide", but it was times like these that she really wished he were here right now to keep her calm.
But the insane laughter from the television was hardly going to do much of that.
Jean reached for the remote, and posed herself to turn it off.
Suddenly, a flash of light from behind her as she heard the sound of footsteps encroaching. She whipped around, dropping the remote, to see a conspicuous spiral smack-dab in the middle of the penthouse. Instinctively, she posed her two fingers against her temple, preparing her psychic powers. But the uncomfortable weight of her collar reminded her that she was powerless--helpless against whomever might be coming. The footsteps continued as a distinctly humanoid shape became sillouhetted in the light...
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