New York pulsed with energy, the streets alive with constant hum of activity. Car horns blared in frustration,voices clashed in heated exchanges, and footsteps pounded against the pavement as crowds moved in an unbroken flow. Neon lights flickered against glass skyscrapers, their glow barely cutting through the haze of the city.
Then, the air trembled. A deafening explosion ripped through the streets, sending a shockwave through the crowd. Flames burst from a nearby building, black smoke curling into the sky.
Screams rang out, sharp and panicked, bouncing off the towering structures. From the inferno, figures emergedâfaces hidden behind masks, their movements quick and deliberate. They clutched bulging bags, the weight of stolen cash shifting in their grip. The city's chaos had just taken a darker turn.
The masked man started loading up there scored on their vehicle
"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" a mechanical voice chimed as a sleek red and gold suit of armor descended from the sky, hovering effortlessly above the chaos.
Iron Man crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Well, would you look at that? A bunch of masked criminals doing masked criminal things. Let me guessâyou guys skipped the part where robbing banks is frowned upon?"
The masked men exchanged glances, hesitation flickering between them.
One of them scoffed and called out, "It's Iron Man⊠the quirkless hero."
Tony let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, ouch. You guys have been working on that one, huh? Real original." He shook his head. "Alright, let's make this easy. You drop the bags, turn yourselves in, and I promise not to roast you too hard. Deal?"
The men wasted no time, splitting up as their quirks activated, each launching an attack in his direction.
Tony sighed. "Ah, the hard way it is."
Without missing a beat, he shot into the sky, his suit's targeting system locking onto each attacker. "Alright, let's play a little gameâit's called Sit Down and Stay Down."
With a flick of his wrist, specialized repulsor blasts fired in rapid succession, each shot landing with pinpoint accuracy, sending the criminals staggering back one by one.
Amid the chaos, a 5 year-old boy stood across the block, eyes wide with excitement. He tugged at his mother's sleeve, practically bouncing on his feet.
"Mom, look! It's Iron Man!" he shouted, his voice filled with pure awe.
His mother smiled, watching the joy light up her son's face. "Honey, do you want to be a hero someday?"
"Yes!" he exclaimed without hesitation. "More than anything, I want to be a hero!"
With the robbers quickly taken down, the boy and his mother made their way back home to their apartment complex.
As they stepped inside, his mother let out a tired sigh, tossing her keys onto the dining table. "So much walking today," she muttered, stretching her legs before sinking onto the living room couch.
Grabbing the remote, she turned on the TV, flipping to the news channel, the screen flickering to life with the latest headlines.
Jackson dashed toward his room, barely containing his excitement as his PC powered up. He quickly opened his browser, searching for everything he could find about his favorite heroesâHulk, Thor, Hawkeye, Iron Man, and of course, All Might.
A grin spread across his face as he spun around in his chair, his mind racing with dreams of one day becoming just like them.
 It reminded him of the day he first discovered his quirk.
 4 years old Jackson had been running around the playground, playing tag with the other kids while his mother watched nearby. As he chased one of the children, something strange happened. He reached out his hand, and a warm sensation surged through him. His palm began to glow, small but unmistakably bright.
Jackson came to a sudden stop, his eyes wide in wonder as he stared at his hand. Excitement bubbled up inside him, and without thinking, he bolted toward his mother.
"Mom! Mom!" he cried, his hand stretched out to her. "Look! My hand! It's glowing! It's glowing!"
His mother smiled, her eyes soft with pride. "Oh my, my son's got his quirk."
Jackson beamed, but then, just as quickly, the glow faded. His smile faltered as he looked down at his hand, disappointed.
"Aww⊠it went away," he mumbled, trying to summon it again, but the glow didn't return.
Later that day, his mother took him to see a quirk doctor.
Jackson sat nervously on the examination table, his hands fidgeting in his lap as his mother stood beside him. The door opened, and the doctor walked in, clipboard in hand, eyes focused on the notes as he approached.
"Ma'am," the doctor began, looking up from the clipboard, "it seems your child has a Energy type quirk."
He glanced at Jackson, then continued, "Based on the tests we've run, your son's quirk functions like a battery. It stores Bio energy that can surge throughout his body, enhancing his physical abilities. The extent of that enhancement depends on him."
He paused, making a few notes before looking back at the pair. "What we've discovered is that the more he exercises his quirk, the larger his 'battery' grows."
Jackson quickly asked, "But why does my hand glow?"
The doctor began to explain, "When you use your quirk, the energy needs to be directed somewhere. Since you haven't yet learned how to properly control it, your body instinctively releases the energy, by slowly leaking outside your skin."
"Do you know why my son can use his quirk after using uis quirk?" his mother asked.
"When he uses up that stored energy, it depletes your power. That's why you couldn't reuse your quirk right awayâsimply put, you didn't have any 'juice' left. The side effects can get more serious the longer you go without managing your energy properly."Â
After briefly explaining the potential effects on his body to his mother, the doctor looked at Jackson and asked, "Alright, Jackson, what will you call your quirk?"
Jackson paused, tapping his fingers together in thought before answering, "Electron."
The doctor nodded, writing it down. "Electron. Got it. Your son is now officially registered as a quirk user."
Back to the present:Â
Jackson slouched in his chair, his gaze drifting upward to Celine. Slowly, he extended his right arm, his fingers splayed as if grasping at something far beyond his reach. The air around his hand seemed to shimmer before a faint glow began to pulse at the tips of his fingers. Within seconds, the light spread across his entire hand, bathing it in a soft, electric blue that flickered like the glow of distant stars.
"I'm going to become a hero and master this quirk," he grinned. Within a minute, the blue glow of his hand faded.
Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud bang, and Jackson was jolted back in his chair, tumbling to the wooden floor in a startled panic.
"Jackson, stop fooling around! Dinner's ready!" His mother blinked in surprise, then glanced at the computer screen, seeing his browser open. "Aww," she cooed, her eyes gleaming with joy. She quickly pulled up his chair, rolling it closer to his desk as she clicked the mouse. "Your father looks so handsome," she murmured, a smile spreading across her face as she watched the screen.
Jackson slowly rose from the floor and walked over to his mother. There, in the latest news article, stood a figure in a familiar red, white, and blue costumeâa massive shield strapped to his back. It was his father, Captain America.
His mother quickly snapped out of her gaze. "C'mon, let's go eat."
At the kitchen table, a neatly plated dish awaited himâsteak with rice, beans, and a hint of vegetables, all perfectly arranged and ready to be devoured.
They both sat quietly, enjoying their meal. After a moment, Jackson gently set down his fork and looked up at his mother. "Mom? When is Dad coming home?"
His mother froze, caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to ask about his dad, especially since he never seemed to mind his absence.
"He's very busy, honey," she said, deciding to be honest. She couldn't bear lying to her child and leaving him disappointed later. "Why do you ask?"
Jackson hesitated, then spoke with newfound excitement. "Um, well⊠I want someone to train my quirk!" he blurted out.
"Oh, honey," his mother chuckled softly. "That's what hero academies are for."
"But that's like 100 years from now!" he groaned dramatically.
"Don't be impatient," his mother quickly reassured him. "There's no need to rush."
She paused, thinking for a moment. Then, with a gentle tone, she added, "And as for your father⊠Maybe I could make arrangements for you to go see him.
"Really?!" Jackson shouted, his voice bursting with excitement.
As the night came, Jackson's steady breaths rose and fell beneath the warmth of his blankets, his lips curled into a faint smile. His mother lingered for a moment, watching him, before stepping back and slipping out of the room without a sound.
A dim yellow nightlight bathed the space in a soft glow, casting long shadows across the walls. Carol Rogers sat motionless at the table, her fingers hovering near her phone. The screen's blue light displayed a single contractâSteve Roger's.
 Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen. How long had it been? A couple of days, maybe more, since they last spoke. She took a slow breath, steeling herself. You got this.
With a steady hand, she tapped the name. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Each tone stretched longer than the last, the wait feeling endlessâuntil finally, the call connected.
"Hey, sweetheart," came a warm, familiar voice, laced with that unmistakable Boston accent.
Carol's lips curved into a smile at the sound of him. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter and soft murmurs filling the kitchen as they spoke. But then, as the warmth of their reunion settled, she finally asked, "What do you think about Jackson visiting Avengers Tower?"