DC: Zoom

The echoes of laughter, the sting of whispered insults, the bruises that faded but never really disappeared—Jason had lived with them all. He had always been the skinny kid, the quiet one, the boy who never quite fit in. Autism made socializing a battlefield, one where he rarely won. His intelligence set him apart, but not in a way that earned respect. It just made him a bigger target.

He had fought back once. It ended with his face shoved into a toilet, the laughter of his tormentors ringing in his ears.

Telling the teachers had been useless. What could they do when the parents of these kids didn't care? Some bullies stopped, but new ones always took their place. Eventually, Jason stopped trying. Isolation became easier than the constant cycle of pain.

Then he met Kara.

She was different. She talked enough for both of them, filling the silence without making him feel small. She understood his struggles without pitying him. Over time, being around her felt as natural as being with family.

His family—his only reason for living. His sister, his parents, they were everything to him. They were the only ones he truly cared about. Even now, with all this power crackling beneath his skin, he knew people would call him selfish. He didn't feel the urge to save strangers, didn't feel that pull to be a hero. Sure, a sad video could make him cry, but he'd get over it quickly. The suffering of the world was distant, just noise.

But Kara—she wasn't any noise. She wasn't just anyone. She was his friend. His only friend. He cared about her, not in some romantic way, but because she mattered to him.

As those thoughts rushed through Jason's mind, his silver eyes darkened. Stepping outside, he felt the cool night air wrap around him. The sun had set. The time for waiting was over.

Tonight, revenge begins.

Isaiah let the hot water run over him, steam curling around the bathroom like a thick fog. He took his time, savoring the heat before finally shutting it off. Grabbing a towel, he dried off quickly, slipping into a pair of shorts and a plain black shirt. After a quick glance in the mirror, he ran a hand through his damp hair and stepped out.

"What the hell took you so long?" a slurred voice barked.

Isaiah tensed. His father.

"Yeah, Dad, sorry," he muttered, ducking his head as he hurried past. He barely made it into his room before he heard the telltale sound of a beer bottle hitting the wall behind him.

Shutting the door, he exhaled and pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he sent a flurry of sweet messages to a girl from school. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget, to pretend everything was normal.

Satisfied, he set his phone down and lay back, ready to sleep—until a loud noise shattered the silence.

His heart jumped. For a split second, fear gripped him. Then he shook his head. Probably just Dad.

Still, something about it made him uneasy. 

Then, like a tornado tearing through his room, a violent red blur ripped everything apart. Papers, clothes, and furniture were sent flying, the sheer force knocking the air from his lungs. His hair whipped wildly as he staggered back.

"What the hell—?!"

Before he could react, something—someone—grabbed his shirt, yanking him forward with inhuman strength. He barely caught a glimpse of the figure before panic took over, his instincts screaming at him to shut his eyes.

Then came the pain.

A fist crashed into his ribs, stealing his breath. Another strike snapped his head to the side. Blow after blow rained down, each one worse than the last. His body crumpled under the assault, every nerve screaming in agony.

And then—darkness.

Jason felt anger—pure, burning rage—coursing through him as his fists connected with Isaiah. The guy who had tormented him for so long was finally at his mercy, and it felt good. He didn't care about the pain in his knuckles or the ache in his body. His power surged, electricity crackling around him.

For a split second, the usual orange lightning flared into a brilliant yellow.

Then—pain.

A sharp, unbearable pressure seized his chest, forcing him to stumble back. His breath hitched, his vision blurring as he clutched his ribs. It wasn't just exhaustion—it was something worse.

Through ragged breaths, Jason looked down at Isaiah, barely registering the damage he had done. The guy wasn't moving.

His stomach twisted. Did I—?

He dropped to his knees, pressing two fingers against Isaiah's neck. A pulse. Faint but there.

Jason exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him. He hadn't killed him.

He shot out of Isaiah's house like a bolt of lightning, the orange electricity crackling around him as he tore through the stormy night. Rain lashed against his face, but he barely felt it—adrenaline was pumping too hard through his veins.

In a blink, he was home. His heart still pounded from the rush as he stepped inside—only to freeze at the sharp sound of his mother's voice.

"Where the hell have you been, young man?"

Shit. He was in trouble.

"Uh… I was working out," he blurted, trying to sound casual.

His mother's eyes narrowed. "Jason Zolomon."

Full name. Yeah, he was screwed.

Sighing, he pulled a bag of snacks from behind his back, holding it up as proof. "Okay, fine. I snuck out—but only to grab some snacks."

She exhaled, rubbing her temples. "You shouldn't be running around this late at night—especially in the rain." Her voice softened just a little. "I'll let it slide this once. Now, go to bed."

Relieved, Jason nodded and hurried to his room before she could change her mind.

Now, he needed to figure out the computer situation. He couldn't just steal one—too risky. And buying one outright? His parents would definitely question where he got the money.

Then it hit him.

I don't need a computer at home…

He could set up a workspace somewhere else, away from prying eyes. But the more he thought about it, the more of a hassle it seemed. Come on, think.

Then another idea sparked. Wait… I could just build my own.

Yeah. That could work.

With the stolen money, he decided to use it for personal needs. Maybe he could convince his parents that he had been saving up for a while.

At least he had the sense to put on his new shoes before walking into the house—his mother would've definitely asked questions otherwise.

He sighed. Yeah, running barefoot wasn't exactly comfortable.