(Merged with the cinematic training scene)
Starts off with a sick type beat montage showing Storm putting on his pants, shirt, clean kicks and so on. Then transitions to Storm standing in front of an old house that looks abandoned.
Teen Storm (on a call): Yo Unc, you sure this the right address?
Uncle Calvin (on a call): Sure is, kiddo. The man who lives in there mentored me and your father. Trust me when I say he's nothing but good.
Teen Storm: Alright, I'm heading in. Wish me luck.
Uncle Calvin: Shit boy, you're not applying for a job. Just go in already.
Hangs up.
Uncle Calvin (to himself): They were right… he is too dramatic for a black kid.
BACK TO STORM
He opens the door — loud creaking noises from the door and the floor.
Teen Storm: Um… hello?
(echoes… hello… hello…)
Mentor pops up behind Storm.
Mentor: Nice. Let yourself in.
Teen Storm: Oh shit! You can't be sneaking up on another man like that, for fuck's sake, I almost shit my pants!
Mentor: You say man… I see a skinny, fragile boy.
Teen Storm (to himself): Am I really that skinny?
Teen Storm: By the way, lovely house.
A piece of roof debris falls behind them.
Mentor: Thanks. Now what do you want before I put a glock up your ass and blow your intestines up?
Teen Storm: Aight chill, I don't want trouble. Are you the mentor of Uncle Calvin?
Mentor: Calvin… Calvin… Calvin… rings a bell but no memory.
Teen Storm: He's like 5 feet tall, black, and never wants to do shit.
Mentor: Oh THAT Calvin. I remember him. By the way, terrible description skills — that could've been any Calvin in the world.
Teen Storm: Shit, you gonna mentor me or what?
Mentor: Under one condition: what I say goes. You hear?
Teen Storm: Sure.
Mentor: You're gonna need a suit. Lightning and fire wielders are known for the suits — fireproof suits. I don't think I gotta explain that to you.
Teen Storm: Yeah, no.
Mentor: Choose your style.
Shows tablet with lightning suit models.
Teen Storm: points This one.
Mentor: Alright… same taste as an old friend. Not exactly, but similar.
Teen Storm: Say what now?
Mentor: Never mind. I'm gonna go make your suit. You chill and watch porn or masturbate — whatever you kids do nowadays.
Teen Storm: Alright.
Suit Creation
Beat kicks in.
Mentor stitching, welding, hammering, crafting Storm's suit in insane 7-second speed-run style.
Beat drops low.
Mentor: Hey! Put this on and let's get to work.
Teen Storm: Finally.
Beat comes back.
Mentor: Looking good, young man. Looking fresh. Reminds me of the old days when I could still pick up baddies that laid eyes on me. Now they just wanna die after they see me. Not the point.
They step into a huge dusty hall inside the mansion.
Broken chandeliers swing. Dust clouds float like lost souls. Every floorboard creaks like it's protesting rent.
Mentor: Alright boy… lesson one — hands up. I ain't tryna kill you, but I also ain't tryna watch you die stupid.
Teen Storm: Hold up! I don't even know what stance I'm supposed to—
Mentor: Just copy what I do damn it.
He drops into a clean fighter stance.
Storm tries… his knees crack like two dried twigs beefing.
Mentor: Jesus. Boy, your joints sound like a skeleton choir.
Storm charges anyway—
BOOM he trips over a floorboard and almost eats dust.
Mentor: AYO— you fell before I even swung! This gon' be a long day.
Teen Storm: The floor attacked me first!
Mentor: The floor ain't your enemy— your clumsy ass is.
He snaps.
Lightning flickers out of Storm's wrist.
Mentor: Good. Now hit me with that. Not too hard — I'm old, not immortal.
Storm charges with lightning sparking behind him like broken Christmas lights.
Mentor sidesteps and taps his neck.
Storm faceplants into a dusty couch — POOF dust everywhere.
Mentor: Rule one: never telegraph your moves. You out here announcing your attack like it's a TikTok dance tutorial.
Storm stands, coughing up dust.
Teen Storm: I'm fighting ghosts, asbestos, the floor AND you.
Mentor: EXACTLY. The mansion helping me train you.
He kicks a loose beam— the ceiling groans.
Teen Storm: Nah nah Uncle Calvin did NOT tell me "death by debris" was part of the training package.
Mentor: Shut up — eyes on me.
He throws a jab. Storm barely dodges. Lightning shoots, hits a statue.
Statue catches fire.
Teen Storm: OH SH— the house!!
Mentor: Don't worry! It was already on fire when I bought it.
(It wasn't.)
Storm swings again. Lightning arcs and blows a hole in the wall.
A whole section of the mansion collapses outside.
Teen Storm: YO I'M A MENACE.
Mentor (proud): That's it. That's the power I wanted to see.
He pats Storm's shoulder. Storm flinches.
Mentor: Relax. Good work… for someone built like a malnourished USB cable.
Teen Storm: Man just say I'm skinny.
Mentor: Shut up. Tomorrow we train real combat. Bet.
THE NEXT DAY
Mentor: Rule one: NEVER fight with emotion. The Empire was made of emotionless beings — fighting angry just makes your powers beat YOUR ass.
Teen Storm: Been there.
Mentor: Now come on. Basic combat skills. Bring it.
Teen Storm: Already?! I don't even know what to do yet!
Mentor: Think of it as "on the job training".
Teen Storm (to himself): I KNEW this felt like a job application.
Teen Storm: Aight… here I come—
Mentor: Boy get your dramatic twig ass OVER HERE.
Storm charges. Mentor blocks everything with disrespect.
Mentor: Not bad. Felt like being punched by a teddy bear. But hey — potential.
Teen Storm: …ouch.
Unleashing the Power
Mentor: You're holding back. We need something to trigger your abilities. But control that sh*t — one wrong move and we BOTH become fried chicken.
Teen Storm: Aight, hold up… it takes a bit to kick in.
Storm closes his eyes… remembers his aunt… electricity crawls up his arms like snakes, wraps around his body, eyes glowing white—
Then vanishes. Storm drops, exhausted.
Mentor: Again.
Teen Storm: Bro it feels like I ran a marathon TWICE.
Mentor: Exhaustion happens when you lack control. Again.
Teen Storm: Damn, chill! Let me breathe!
Mentor: You agreed to do what I say.
Teen Storm: I KNEW this was a trap.
Mentor: AGAIN.
Storm closes his eyes. Thinks of the man who killed his aunt. His entire aura explodes — lightning streaks up his arms, around his torso, legs — eyes blazing white.
Mentor: HOLD IT!
Teen Storm: grunting, struggling
Mentor: Now FORGIVE whatever's bothering you.
Teen Storm (weak): I can't forgive him…
Mentor (to himself): This is a bad idea…
Mentor: Fine then. Focus the anger on ME.
Teen Storm: Say less.
Thunder rumbles. Cloud forms overhead.
Mentor: Ah hell—here we go.
Storm rockets forward — BOOM — thunderclap behind him. Ground cracks. Lightning fists aimed at Mentor's skull.
Mentor (blocking): Not fast enough.
He knees Storm mid-air, tornado kicks him across the yard into a huge tree. Tree falls into the neighbor's house.
Teen Storm: H-how are you so fast—
Storm launches again — but Mentor disappears.
Mentor (behind him): Over here, dumbass.
Storm throws rapid-fire lightning punches — each one strong enough to punch door-sized holes in brick — but Mentor dodges all of them casually.
Storm gets angrier… more unstable… electricity flaring too big.
Mentor (realizing): Sh*t, he's gonna nuke the block.
Mentor uses his special move: Pin Point.
Jaw strike — skull vibrating.
Stomach punch — Storm folds like laundry.
Neck hit — Storm drops unconscious.
Storm Wakes Up
Teen Storm: yawns What happened?
Uncle Calvin: Good, you're awake.
Mentor: Told you he'd be fine.
Uncle Calvin: You lost control mid-fight. He had to put you to sleep before you turned the whole neighborhood into dust.
Teen Storm (embarrassed): …sorry.
Mentor: It happens. But you gotta numb yourself. You care too damn much — your emotions are cooking you alive.
Chase walks in.
Mentor: Not THIS kid again.
Teen Storm: You know him
Mentor: yep hes my latest student and my dumbest one too
Chase: Whoa, cool suit. Would make a great swimming suit.
Teen Storm: Bro I'm gonna be stronger than you. When I master this sh*t, you're cooked.
Chase: Over my dead body.
Uncle Calvin: Enough. No fighting in the house. Backyard only.
Lightning Lore
Teen Storm: How were you so fast?
Mentor: I'm a lightning wielder too.
Mentor:
• Lightning = fastest, best aim, can make anything you want out of lightning which means you can walk on air when mastered
• Fire = strong, fly, big spread
• Earth = heavy hitters
• Water = smartest in the room
Chase: Cool.
Mentor: Walk with me to my car. I'll tell you more.
Teen Storm: Bet. What abilities do lightning wielders have?
Mentor: Piercing aim, speed, paralyzing strikes, lightning balls strong enough to blow up a country. That's why we're the strongest element.
Teen Storm: How long would it take me to master all that?
Mentor: Five years.
Teen Storm: SAY WHAT?! Ain't no way.
Mentor: Took your uncle six months just to control his emotions. We gotta rush you or you'll accidentally kill all of us.
Teen Storm: But FIVE years?!
Mentor: You're impatient — just like my old friend.
Teen Storm: This friend again… who is he?
Mentor: Your uncle's little brother. Strongest lightning wielder I ever met. He tried to stop the Unknown alone… didn't listen… look where it got him.
Teen Storm: Yeah Unc told me he wanted to help the Legend stop the Unknown.
Mentor: That doesn't make sense.
Teen Storm: Huh?
Mentor: Because YOUR DAD is the Legend.
Teen Storm: Wait—WHAT?!
Mentor: Sh*t. I wasn't supposed to say that. But it explains your crazy lightning reaction.
Teen Storm: What else do you know about my dad?
Mentor: That's all. Lakers game on tonight — I'm out.
Screen transitions to storms room
Storm grabs the Book of Legends.
Reads: "Two legends have died fighting the Unknown. All legends share the same bloodline. The current Legend, God of Lightning, faces the Unknown now…"
Teen Storm: So my dad, grandpa, great-grandpa… all Legends…
That means I'M NEXT.
Storm grabs a photo of his dad.
Teen Storm: I didn't avenge Auntie… but I'll avenge you.
I WILL be the next Legend.
Screen fades black.
Meanwhile…
Mentor sitting in his car, talking on a device.
Mentor: Boss… it's confirmed. The electricity readings were from a boy.
The Legend's boy.
Mysterious Man: So… another has risen.
Screen fades black.