DC: Zoom

Charlotte skipped beside Jason as they walked toward school, a mischievous grin on her face.

"So, brother," she teased, "are you planning to be a hero or something?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

"A hero!" She threw her hands up dramatically. "You've got these cool powers—what's the plan? Or are you just gonna let them go to waste?"

"Sheesh, keep it down," Jason hushed her, glancing around nervously. A few kids passing by shot them weird looks, making him sigh.

They kept walking until they reached the stop sign in front of Charlotte's school.

"To answer your question," Jason said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I don't know. I just don't feel the urge to run around saving people I don't even know."

"Plus, with that new law, I'd have to register myself—and you. We both know that's a terrible idea."

Charlotte smirked. "Papa always said not to trust anything those pigs say."

Jason chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, he did." He ruffled her hair. "Now, get along."

Charlotte rolled her eyes but grinned as she crossed the street toward her school. Jason watched for a moment before turning to continue his walk—until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Jason felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Standing before him was a familiar face—blonde hair catching the morning light, piercing blue eyes framed behind a pair of glasses that hadn't been there before.

His brow lifted. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Kara adjusted them with a small smirk. "I usually wear contacts."

Jason chuckled as they fell into step, their pace effortlessly matching.

"So, how's your morning?" Kara asked, glancing at him.

"Didn't get much sleep," Jason admitted with a shrug. "You?"

Kara flashed a small smile. "Slept like a baby."

They walked side by side, lost in conversation, the morning air crisp around them. Before long, they reached the front gates of the school.

Kara slowed her steps, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she glanced at Jason. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then finally spoke. "So… there's a basketball game tomorrow night. Want to come?" Her voice was light, but there was an unspoken hopefulness beneath it.

Jason tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He eyed her curiously. "Kara Danvers, you? At a basketball game?" His brow lifted, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Since when did that become a thing?"

"Well… I've never actually been to one," Kara admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She glanced at him, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "So… you down?"

"Sure, sure, I'll go with you," Jason said with a shrug. "Now, let's get to class."

The rest of the school day felt like any other—except for the constant buzz of students whispering about metahumans. It was all anyone seemed to talk about.

During lunch, Jason sat across from Mr. Lawson, scribbling answers onto his worksheet while flipping through his textbook. The quiet hum of the nearly empty classroom was a welcome break from the chaos outside.

Kara sat beside him, tapping her pencil against her notebook, brows furrowed as she scanned her notes. With a frustrated sigh, she ran a hand through her hair.

"I swear, none of this is sticking," she muttered.

Jason glanced over, eyeing the jumble of highlighted text and half-finished equations. "Here," he said, sliding her notebook closer. "You're overcomplicating it. Look at this part—" He pointed at a formula. "It's just like the example from yesterday's lesson."

Kara leaned in, studying it again. Her frustrated expression softened as realization dawned. "Oh… that actually makes sense."

Jason smirked. "Told you."

She nudged him playfully with her elbow before diving back into her notes, this time with a little more confidence.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Jason made his way down the hall and slipped into the restroom. The quiet space gave him a brief moment to himself as he unzipped his pants.

Then—footsteps.

The sharp echo bounced off the tiled walls, followed by hushed voices, low and familiar. Jason's grip tightened as unease crept up his spine. He didn't need to look to know who had just walked in.

Exhaling sharply, he finished up and turned toward the exit—only to stop short.

Isaiah stood in his path, that smug grin stretching across his face like he'd been waiting for this moment.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Isaiah sneered, glancing at his friends. "If it isn't dork-face."

Jason rolled his eyes. "What do you want, asshole?"

Isaiah's smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a flash of anger. "What did you just call me?"

"Asshole."

Jason barely finished the word before Isaiah's fist came flying at him. But to Jason, it was slow—painfully slow. He could dodge it. He could counter, put Isaiah in his place right then and there. Every fiber of him wanted to. But not here. Not now.

So, he let it happen.

The moment he chose to hold back, time snapped back to normal. A fist connected with his gut, then another to his ribs. The dull, rhythmic thud of fists meeting flesh filled the restroom, echoing off the walls.

The walk home was painful, every step a reminder of the beating he had taken. But as time passed, the pain dulled, replaced by something else—something far more intoxicating. His plan for revenge was already forming, and the thought made him grin.

He ran a hand down his face, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. His old computer was falling apart, and he needed cash—fast. It wasn't like money was just going to appear.

He looked up at the clear, blue sky, his mind racing. A sudden thought flickered through his mind, and a grin tugged at his lips. Robbing a store? That would be easy. His speed alone made it effortless.

But as he weighed the options, he dismissed the smaller targets. Small businesses didn't deserve that kind of trouble. No, he needed a bigger prize.

Walmart.

A smirk spread across his face as he pictured it—simple, quick, and a hell of a lot more fun.

A spark ignited at his fingertips, then spread like wildfire, golden lightning crackling up his arms. The charge built within him, humming, alive. Then—he moved.

The world twisted into streaks of color as he surged forward, a thunderous boom trailing behind him. Electricity arced off his body, snaking through the air, dancing across the floor. The cashier barely had time to widen her eyes before a gust of wind sent her hair whipping back. His hand was in the register, a blur of motion, and then—he was gone.

A trail of crackling orange lightning flickered in his wake, fading as he skidded to a halt in a deserted alley. His breath came quickly, exhilaration thrumming through his chest like a living thing. The crisp bills crumpled in his grip, the scent of singed air lingering around him.

A slow, wicked grin stretched across his face as he shoved the cash into his pocket.

Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.