The morning sunlight barely pierced through the thin, grimy curtains of Alaric Ward's apartment. The air smelled faintly of burnt toast and old metal. A soft hum coursed through the walls, almost imperceptible, yet Alaric could feel it as clearly as the pulse in his veins. It had become a part of him now — a whisper of energy that refused to be ignored.
He stood by the doorway, hoodie zipped up, hands in his pockets. Even with the sleeves covering the faint golden veins under his skin, he could feel the electricity thrumming like a caged animal. His mother's eyes were on him, sharp and wary.
"Alaric… you're really going out?" she asked, voice low but edged with tension.
"Yes, Mom. Just… to buy vegetables," he said, trying to sound casual, though the hum beneath his skin made his words buzz faintly.
"Three days ago, you disappeared," she snapped, "and now you're acting like nothing happened. Do you know what it felt like thinking my son was gone? Just… gone!"
Alaric swallowed. "…I'm sorry. I—"
"No, you don't get to apologize so easily," she interrupted, her hands trembling as she folded over the counter. "You have no idea the panic, the fear—"
"I'll be careful!" he said, a little too loud. "I just… I need to see the world outside this apartment. I need… normal."
She didn't respond. Her eyes softened slightly, but worry lingered like smoke. "Alright… but come back quickly. Don't do anything reckless."
He nodded and left, stepping into the narrow street. The hum beneath his skin pulsed faster with each step. Every streetlight seemed to flicker as he passed. Cars roared past, their engines vibrating through the asphalt. The world felt sharper, louder, alive — almost painfully aware of him.
---
The central market was alive with morning chaos. Vendors shouted prices, children darted between legs, and the smell of fried food mingled with fresh produce. Alaric moved cautiously, keeping his hoodie pulled tight. The faint glow beneath his sleeves was there — persistent, a constant reminder of the accident that had changed him forever.
A metal cart squeaked as someone brushed against it. Sparks jumped briefly from Alaric's fingers to the cart, dancing like tiny lightning bolts. The sound drew a few confused glances, but the crowd moved on. Alaric clenched his fists, forcing the electricity back down.
Control… focus… not now, he muttered.
---
At a vegetable stall, the vendor, a grizzled man with a thick mustache, was arranging tomatoes. Alaric reached to grab a few, but as his fingers brushed the metal scale, a small arc leapt between his hand and the scale. Tomatoes bounced slightly. The vendor yelped.
"What the—! Watch yourself, kid!"
Alaric jumped back, heart hammering. "I-I'm sorry! Static… it's just static!"
Customers murmured, some giggling nervously. Alaric forced a smile and stepped away. He could feel the electricity pulsing, reacting to his emotions like a living thing. Fear made it flare. Anger made it strike. Excitement made it hum.
I have to learn control… he thought, gripping his hands.
---
As he left the stall, a boy on a skateboard shot past recklessly, too close to the edge of the crowd. Alaric's instincts flared, a protective surge he couldn't yet fully understand. Before he realized it, electricity arced from his fingertips, striking the skateboard. The board skidded harmlessly across the pavement; the boy stumbled but wasn't hurt.
"Whoa! Did you see that?!" someone shouted, pointing at the faint sparks.
Alaric froze, heart pounding. He hadn't intended anyone to see. The whispers started spreading quickly through the crowd. People glanced, startled, but moved on, distracted by their own concerns.
He ducked into a side alley, pressed his hands into his pockets, trying to quiet the hum. It pulsed violently, as if demanding recognition.
Evans' voice echoed in his mind: "You've got to practice, man. Don't let it control you."
Control… focus… He closed his eyes, letting the hum settle, guiding the electricity inward. Slowly, the golden threads beneath his skin dimmed, leaving only a faint shimmer.
---
He continued walking toward home, avoiding major streets, careful not to interact with anyone. Every reflective surface reminded him of the glow tracing his veins. His skin prickled, every movement making the electricity pulse faster. He could feel the city — the hum of energy in the wires, the traffic, the electronics. It was overwhelming, and terrifying.
At a crosswalk, a car horn blared. Alaric's pulse quickened reflexively. A faint spark leapt from his fingers to the car's metallic surface, enough to make the horn blare and the driver curse, but no real damage was done. Alaric staggered back, clutching his head. Not now… not here…
He ducked behind a newsstand, breathing hard. The electricity inside him buzzed, alive, waiting.
---
Finally, he reached home, drenched slightly from a light drizzle. The faint glow beneath his sleeves had dimmed, but the hum never truly stopped. His mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes wide.
"You… you're back," she said, voice trembling.
Alaric dropped the basket, vegetables rolling slightly. "Yeah… back," he muttered. "Everything's fine."
"Fine?" she repeated, eyes narrowing. "You went out… alone. And… something… you look different."
He forced a weak smile, brushing ash and rain from his hoodie. "I'm… okay, Mom. Just… tired."
She shook her head slowly, her hands trembling. "Alaric… promise me you'll… you'll be careful. Please."
He nodded, barely able to speak. "…I promise."
She left the room quietly. Alone, Alaric sat on the edge of his bed, hands hovering over the faint glow pulsing along his veins. The hum inside him had grown into a steady rhythm.
Tomorrow… he whispered. Tomorrow I'll see what I can do. I need to know… how far this goes.
Outside, distant thunder rolled across the city, though the sky remained clear. Alaric's lips trembled.
"What's happening with me ? And why only me ? Why ! I am tired of all this Shit !.....first I woke up in a scrapyard or graveyard or both then I got suspended in school.... I'm Tired ! "
The hum beneath his skin answered with a pulse, subtle, alive, and insistent — a promise that the experiment had only just begun.