DC: Zoom

The schoolyard buzzed with noise—kids shouting over a game of handball, sneakers squeaking on the basketball court, clusters of students lost in their own conversations. But one boy stood apart from it all.

Jason sat beneath a tree, his back pressed against the rough bark, his backpack resting between his legs. His pencil glided across the page, each stroke pulling him further away from the chaos around him. Drawing was his escape—his way out, even if only for a moment.

Then, cold and sudden, something splattered against him. The smell hit first—sour, spoiled. Laughter erupted.

Milk dripped from his hair, soaked into his clothes. A group of boys stood a few feet away, grinning, another carton already in hand. More laughter. More eyes on him.

Jason clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into his backpack as he stood. He didn't look at them. Didn't give them the reaction they wanted. Instead, he turned and walked—fast. Past the blacktop. Past the clusters of kids still laughing. His only thought: get to the restroom.

Inside, he ripped off his shirt, his hands shaking as he grabbed his P.E. shirt from his bag. His reflection in the mirror stared back—hair damp, eyes burning. He refused to cry. Not here. Not where they could see.

His P.E. shorts had no pockets, which meant stuffing everything into his backpack. Another inconvenience. Another thing out of his control.

He swallowed hard and shoved his soaked clothes deep into his bag, his fingers clenching around the strap.

He hated this place.

But more than that, he hated how powerless he was to change it.

The school bell shrieked through the halls, signaling the next class. Jason let out a breath of relief—math. At least that was something he excelled at. A straight-A student, he was ahead of his peers, but today, numbers weren't the only thing on his mind.

Star Labs was activating the particle accelerator tonight. The mere thought sent a spark of excitement through him, his eyes widening in anticipation.

As the day wound down, Jason boarded the school bus, watching as it emptied out at the usual drop-off point. The moment his feet hit the pavement, he hurried home, just like the others—only his excitement wasn't for the evening routine. It was for what was about to happen next.

He shoved the house door open and stormed inside, his backpack slipping off his shoulder as he made a beeline for his desk. His fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the Star Labs website. The screen glowed, The glow of the screen flickered in his wide, eager eyes. Diagrams of the particle accelerator filled the page, bold headlines promising groundbreaking advancements in energy, scientific discovery, and medicine. His breath hitched. This wasn't just another experiment—it was history in the making.

The front door creaked open, followed by the familiar shuffle of footsteps. His parents were home, bringing his little sister back from her after school program.

"Big brother!" she called, her small feet thudding against the floor as she ran straight into his room. " Is it happening"

Here's a revised version with a smoother flow and a stronger sense of atmosphere:

Jason spun in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. "In a couple of hours," he said, eyes gleaming. 

Not to brag, but he and his little sister were born geniuses. They liked the same things, thought the same way—that's why they got along so well.

Then, a sharp voice cut through the air, sending a chill down their spines.

"Children! Don't leave your stuff on the ground!" their mother called from the kitchen.

A little while later, their father came home from work, and the family gathered for dinner—steak, rice, and vegetables. The usual. Conversation drifted, but Jason's mind was elsewhere.

As soon as he was done, he headed outside to his lab—a shed, technically, but in his hands, it had become a real workspace. Shelves lined with chemicals, half-finished projects scattered across the tables. A small TV sat in the corner, already tuned in to what he'd been waiting for all day: the live broadcast of the particle accelerator activation.

Jason dropped into his chair, eyes glued to the screen. The reporter stood stiffly in front of the massive structure, her practiced smile unwavering—until it faltered.

A flicker of unease crossed her face. The camera jolted, the frame tilting slightly.

Then, the first raindrop.

Another.

Within seconds, a downpour hammered against the ground, blurring the lens. The reporter pressed a hand to her earpiece, eyes darting off-screen.

"It looks like… something has gone wrong," she said, her voice tightening. "They're trying to shut it down, but—"

The feed stuttered. The colors distorted.

Then, nothing.

The screen snapped to black. The overhead light in Jason's shed blinked out. The low hum of electricity that had always been there—silent until it was gone—vanished.

Jason bolted upright. His pulse pounded in his ears.

The entire city had just gone dark.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the arms of his chair. "What the hell just happened?"

A blinding pillar of energy tore through the sky, its glow reflecting in Jason's wide eyes. The ground rumbled beneath him, rattling the shed's walls. He gripped the windowsill, his breath caught in his throat.

Then, the flash.

A white-hot bolt of lightning ripped through the roof. For a fraction of a second, time seemed to slow. The impact sent a ripple through the air, distorting everything around it. The shelves behind him trembled, glass containers rattling violently.

Then—crack.

The force sent him flying backward. His body crashed into the shelves, the vibration causing vials of chemicals to tip, tilting ever so slightly before spilling. Thick, neon-colored liquids oozed from their shattered containers, slithering across the surface like living things. The force of the blast sent them creeping faster, merging into a swirling, bubbling pool.

Jason lay there, stunned, muscles twitching, his senses flickering between awareness and oblivion. The strange, burning mixture soaked into his clothes, seeping into his skin. A sharp, stinging heat spread through his veins, slow at first—then all at once.

Darkness pulled him under.