Storm's alarm went off like a dying robot.
Storm: Argh… why the fuck do I even have this thing?
He slapped it so hard it probably reconsidered existence. Storm rolled out of bed with the energy of a 90-year-old man trapped in a 21-year-old's body.
Montage starts playing.
Storm (narrating):
Hey there… it's been a while. Well, for me. Shit's happened.
Cut to him brushing his teeth, showering, cooking breakfast like he's speedrunning morning routines.
Storm:
I'm no longer 16. Now I'm 21… Uncle Calvin decided to kick the bucket, and Chase died to some bitch named Kane. Still hunting his ass down.
As he speaks, he throws on his new suit, lightning flickering off him casually like he's leaking electricity.
Storm (narrating):
After Uncle Calvin died, me and Chase moved to NYC — the big red apple. Said, Hey, might as well make a name for ourselves. And we did… for a bit.
We were New York's heroes. But then Chase died… and that made it a one-man job.
He stands on a rooftop overlooking the city, the wind brushing past him.
Storm (narrating):
And when he died, I kinda went anti.
Yeah, remember that no killing shit? Only paralyzing?
Scratch that. I basically kill for a living now. Judge me later.
Random Guy (off-screen):
Yo STORM! HEY!
Beat cuts.
Storm slowly turns like someone just interrupted his loading screen.
Random Guy, holding a basketball:
Come on bro, run a quick one!
Storm:
Fuck it. Why not.
Storm vanishes.
One blink he's there, next blink he's downstairs at the basketball court like a cutscene skip button.
Random Guy:
Ay man, no fast powers!
Storm:
Or you can use yours.
Random Guy:
…Fuck it. Fine.
Storm:
Check it.
Beat drops.
He bounces the ball.
To Storm, the ball falls in slow motion.
Storm (thinking):
Left open. Right guarded. Layup's dead. Dunk gets blocked. Alright… bet.
Time snaps back to normal.
Storm explodes left — a blur.
The guy follows, matching Storm's speed.
Storm zig-zags and rockets toward the rim.
Slow motion again.
Storm (thinking):
Yeah nah, he's blocking that. Lemme cook.
Storm flicks the ball behind him.
To the world: regular speed.
To Storm: chess.
Before the ball even kisses the ground, Storm is already there, catching it like he teleported.
Shot for a three.
Storm:
Switch.
Random Guy jumps to block — but Storm reads him like a textbook.
Storm dashes mid-air, waits for the guy to smack the ball, then grabs it and dunks it before gravity understands what happened.
Random Guy:
Bro… SHI— YOU FAST! Okay one more!
Game starts again.
Storm dashes right.
Guy follows.
Storm throws the ball high left.
Guy:
The hell—?
Storm phantom dashes through the air, zig-zagging like a glitching game character.
No clear path.
No plan.
Pure instinct.
He reaches the hoop and dunks it with disrespect.
Random Guy:
Nah MANNN this ain't fair. I'm out.
Storm:
Sure. Rage quit. Good game though.
He walks away smirking.
---
Graveyard Scene
Storm stands over Chase's grave.
Kneeling like a samurai, head down.
Storm (voice breaking):
Hey man… I miss you. Shit's tough out here. I could really use you.
Tears drip down his mask.
A van door slides open nearby.
Storm's head lifts slightly.
Side-eye activated.
Goons:
Come on, grab the shit and let's dip!
Storm sighs, pulls down his mask.
Storm:
Really? Stealing TVs? I thought we were over that shit.
Storm vanishes.
One goon gets punched so hard he travels through ten brick walls like a bowling ball.
The others freeze.
Two run. Two stay.
Storm grabs the first dude, punches him into a parked car so hard the alarm goes off forever.
The second swings. Misses.
Storm grabs his arm, spears him into a light pole with enough force to bend metal.
Storm dashes back to the first guy, yeets him over an apartment building, then uses him mid-air as a launch pad, blasting forward with a loud lightning CRACK.
Storm catches the mid-air goon again, steps off him a second time, and spots the van.
Storm lands on the moving van—
Then his powers flicker. Purple. Once. Twice.
He slips.
Storm:
…the fuck?
He falls on the roof, and the goons finally see him.
The van swerves wildly.
Fast and Furious side quest unlocked.
Storm crawls toward the window, the air dragging him back.
He peeks in, smiling.
Storm:
Off somewhere?
Goon:
How are you sticking to this shit like you're Spider-Man—?
A massive gas truck honks.
Both turn their heads.
Goons:
Oh f—
Storm:
SHIT.
Storm launches off the truck like a slingshot.
He has one choice: let them die… or save them.
And despite being an anti-hero now—
Storm chooses to save him.
He dashes through the window.
Time slows.
Glass floats.
Fire sings.
Metal groans.
Storm grabs the goon by the neck and the steering wheel, yanking both sharply left.
They crash into an abandoned shop.
Storm dashes out the other window with the man just as the van eats the building.
BOOM.
The goon stumbles up, bleeding.
Goon:
You… seriously don't know when to quit…
Storm:
That's a line I heard my whole life. So imma go ahead and say no.
The goon flames up like Human Torch on bad timing.
He charges.
Storm dodges effortlessly — left, right, tilt, weave.
The goon fires a flamethrower blast.
Storm lets him believe it landed.
Storm appears behind him, tapping his shoulder.
Storm:
Did you get him?
Goon:
I… think so—
Storm:
Cool. My turn.
Storm punches him so hard the man travels city blocks.
Three Storms appear—
or maybe he's just moving so fast it looks like three.
They beat the goon so badly his soul files a complaint.
The goon collapses, bleeding.
Goon (dying voice):
W-why… save me… and… beat me… half to death…
Storm:
Why try to beat your savior half to death, dumbass?
Police show up. They cuff him.
Storm dashes to a rooftop overlooking the chaos.
He breathes out.
Storm:
Well… I guess this is the beginning of something new.
Lightning flickers purple behind him