The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear.
Jason Anderson sat on a cold plastic chair, swinging his legs restlessly, his ten-year-old eyes fixed on the white double doors at the end of the hall. His father, Garek, sat beside him, hunched over, hands clasped tight. Jason’s older brother, Erik, paced the length of the waiting room, his face pale.

Jason tugged at his father’s sleeve.
“Dad… is Mom gonna be okay?”

Garek forced a thin smile, but his voice wavered. “She’ll be fine, Jason. You’ll see.”

But before the hope could settle, a doctor in a white coat stepped into the room, his expression heavy. He didn’t need to speak. The silence told them everything.

“She’s… gone,” the doctor finally said.

The world seemed to crack open. Garek buried his face in his hands. Erik turned away, his jaw clenched, trying to hide his tears. Jason just stared at the floor, unable to move, unable to believe. That was the moment his family broke.

Grief consumed Garek until madness took root. Erik, unable to live in the ruins of a broken home, ran away without a word. Jason was left alone—lost in the void his mother’s death had carved out. Eventually, the state placed him in an orphanage.

Present Day — 11 Years Later

Jason Anderson was twenty-one now, a journalist with blonde hair that always seemed slightly messy, and bright green eyes that hid his old wounds well. Everyone at work liked him—he was warm, quick-witted, and always ready to help. But that morning, he was running late. Again.

He burst into the newsroom, dodging between desks, his messenger bag bouncing at his side.
Adrianna Milla, his best friend and co-worker, leaned back in her chair and grinned.
“You’re late, Anderson. Again. You’re lucky you’re charming.”

Jason smirked, catching his breath. “Some of us have beauty sleep to maintain.”

They exchanged playful banter before diving into their day. Hours passed, and soon night draped over the city. Jason stayed behind to finish his work, leaving the office long after most had gone home.

The Alley

The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you check over your shoulder. Jason walked quickly, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. That’s when he saw him—a man dressed entirely in black, his face hidden under a ski mask.

Jason froze. The man raised a gun.

The shot rang out. Pain flared—then nothing.

The Awakening

Jason’s eyes snapped open. He was in his apartment, lying in bed. He bolted upright, frantically feeling his chest. No wound. No blood. Not even a scar.

“What… the hell?” he whispered.

The clock said he was late—again. Then, a knock at the door.

Jason opened it to find Adrianna standing there, arms crossed.
“Just checking if you’re alive. You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Jason grinned. “Were you worried about me?”

She smirked. “You wish. Get moving, Anderson.”

The Intruder

Jason was getting dressed when the air in the room shifted—an uneasy, electric sensation crawling up his spine. Before he could react, a figure in a metal suit crashed through his apartment wall, sending dust and debris everywhere.

“So… you’re the Atomic Man,” the voice boomed through a helmet speaker.

Jason stumbled back. “The what—?”

The armored figure lunged. Jason moved—faster than he thought possible—dodging the blow. His own reflexes shocked him. The man swung again, but Jason blocked and slipped away with uncanny speed.

The attacker’s arm cannon lit up. A searing beam blasted from it, tearing a hole straight through the wall. Jason dove out into the hallway. The armored man followed relentlessly.

Jason didn’t think. He ran straight toward the gaping hole in the wall and leapt—soaring through the air and landing on the rooftop of the next building.

From behind, the metallic voice growled:
“If you don’t show yourself tomorrow, in the heart of the city, I’ll hurt innocent people.”

Jason said nothing. He just ran.

Confession

Later that night, Adrianna was unlocking her apartment door when Jason stepped out of the shadows.

“Jesus, Jason—” She caught herself. “You skipped work to break into my place?”

He managed a weak laugh. “Not exactly. Something happened… to me.”

Jason told her everything—the man in the suit, the fight, the speed, the strange survival after being shot.

Adrianna stared at him, wide-eyed. Then she smiled softly.
“You have powers, Jason. Do the right thing. Help people.”

Showdown

The next day, chaos erupted downtown. The armored man was tearing through streets, blasting cars and storefronts. People screamed and scattered.

Jason arrived, heart pounding.
“I’m not letting you hurt anyone,” he called out.

The man in the suit turned. “Then stop me.”

They clashed—punches, kicks, dodges, each strike rattling the ground. Jason fought hard but struggled to control his abilities. The armored man’s blows sent him skidding across the pavement.

A hard strike lifted Jason into the air—yet instead of falling, he hovered.
“…I can fly,” he breathed.

With newfound determination, he charged, landing hits that rattled his enemy. But the suit was strong—too strong. Jason faltered. The armored man pinned him, victory within reach—

And then it happened.

Energy surged from deep inside Jason, glowing, burning, exploding outward in a blinding wave. The shockwave threw the armored man back, shattering parts of his suit. He hit the ground hard, unmoving.

Cheers erupted from the crowd. Cameras flashed.

“Atomic Man!” someone shouted. The name stuck.

Jason turned away, pulling his hood up, and took to the skies.

In the Shadows

Later that night, Adrianna met Jason on a quiet rooftop.
“I’m proud of you,” she said.

In the distance, two shadowed figures watched.
“So… the Atomic Man project was a success?” one asked.

“Yes,” the other replied, voice grim. “It was Jason Anderson.”

The second figure stepped into the faint light.
It was Jason’s father.