Consciousness returned like a slow upload, data packets of sensation arriving in random order. The smell of antiseptic. The whisper of expensive sheets. A rhythmic beeping that meant money—private healthcare money.
Jayden Cross opened his eyes to find himself staring at a ceiling that cost more per square foot than most people's cars. Not a normal hospital ceiling with its water stains and industrial tiles, but actual plaster crown molding and recessed lighting that adjusted to circadian rhythms.
Seventeen years old and already familiar with luxury hospital suites—the perks of being a Cross.
Cedar Sinai. The VIP wing.
Of course. Where else would they take a Cross?
He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Not because of pain—that was the strange thing. There should have been pain. He'd hit a concrete wall at over 120 miles per hour. But instead of agony, he felt... wrong. Like his body was a live wire with a faulty ground, sparking and surging without warning.
"Shit," he muttered, and his voice crackled with static.
The heart monitor beside his bed suddenly shrieked, its display fritzing into gibberish before dying completely. The lights flickered. His iPhone on the bedside table made a popping sound, its screen spider-webbing with cracks.
"What the—"
The door burst open. Not normally—the electronic lock had fried, causing it to swing wide. A nurse rushed in, then immediately stopped, her eyes wide.
"Mr. Cross, please don't move!"
"Why would I—" Jayden shifted slightly, and blue electricity exploded from his body in wild arcs. The TV shattered. The window blinds started smoking. The nurse's tablet sparked and died in her hands.
"Fuck!" Jayden tried to pull back whatever was happening, but it was like trying to hold back a sneeze while skydiving. The power just... went. No control. No off switch.
Dr. Marcus Chen appeared in the doorway, keeping his distance. Jayden recognized him from his mother's charity galas—the neurology chief who only took patients worth eight figures minimum.
"Mr. Cross," Dr. Chen said carefully, "try to remain calm."
"Calm?" Jayden laughed, and electrical discharge followed the sound, scorching the ceiling. "I'm a fucking Tesla coil!"
"You've been unconscious for thirty-six hours," Dr. Chen said, maintaining a safe distance. "Your injuries were... unusual."
Another surge. This time Jayden felt it coming—a buildup like pressure in his chest—but couldn't stop it. Lightning erupted from his hands, turning the Basquiat painting into expensive ash.
"Define unusual," Jayden growled.
"You should be dead. The force of impact—by all rights, you should be dead. Instead, you had minor lacerations, a mild concussion, and..." The doctor gestured at the electrical chaos. "This."
Jayden tried to stand. Bad idea. The moment his feet hit the floor, he moved—not walked, but flickered—across the room in a blur of blue light. He slammed into the window hard enough to crack the reinforced glass, then ricocheted back, leaving scorch marks on everything he touched.
"Jesus fuck!" He tried to stop, but his body moved at speeds his brain couldn't process. One second he was by the window, the next by the door, the next crashing into medical equipment that sparked and died on contact.
"Latent activation," Dr. Chen said quickly. "The Genesis energy was dormant in your system until the trauma triggered it. But your readings... the output levels..."
"English, doc!" Jayden snarled, finally managing to stop moving by gripping the bed frame. The metal immediately began heating up, glowing red under his hands.
"You're generating more lightning energy than any recorded speedster. But you have no control. Your body is producing Level 150 power output with Level 0 control mechanisms."
The bed frame melted. Jayden jerked back, leaving handprints in the molten metal. "So fix it!"
"We can't. Power control is learned, not taught. Most people manifest gradually, learn their limits over time. You've gone from zero to—"
Another surge. This one bigger. The lights didn't just flicker—they exploded in showers of sparks. The window finally gave way, shattering outward in a spray of glass. Thirty floors up, wind howled into the room.
"Get out!" Jayden shouted at the nurse, who didn't need to be told twice.
Dr. Chen backed toward the door. "Mr. Cross, there are suppressants we can try—"
"No." The word came out with enough electrical force to short out the entire floor's power grid. Emergency lighting kicked in, bathing everything in red. "No drugs. No suppressants."
"You could kill someone. You could kill yourself."
Jayden laughed, wild and crackling. "Wouldn't be the first time I disappointed my family."
He turned toward the shattered window. The city spread out below, all lights and possibility. He could feel the electricity in the air, in the buildings, in the power lines. All of it calling to him.
"Mr. Cross, don't—"
But Jayden was already moving. Not running—he didn't know how to run anymore. His body converted to pure electrical energy, launching through the window in a bolt of blue lightning.
For one terrifying, exhilarating moment, he was everywhere and nowhere. He could feel every electrical system in the city, could have jumped to any of them.
But he had no idea how to steer, how to stop, how to—
He materialized on a rooftop six blocks away, crashing hard enough to crack the concrete. Blue lightning erupted from the impact point, cascading over the building's edge in waterfalls of light. Every car alarm on the block went off. Street lights exploded. A transformer blew, plunging two city blocks into darkness.
Jayden pushed himself up on shaking arms, laughing hysterically. His hospital clothes were half-burned away, his skin crackling with residual energy.
He couldn't control it. Could barely direct it. One wrong move and he'd fry anyone who got close.
Perfect.
For years, he'd been playing at being dangerous. The rich bad boy who raced cars and played with people's money. All of it fake, all of it hollow.
But this? This uncontrolled storm under his skin? This was real danger. Real consequences.
His phone—somehow in his pocket, somehow still working despite being half-melted—buzzed with a text.
Rico:*Heard you're awake. Also heard you blew out half a hospital floor. The fuck happened to you?*
Jayden tried to type a response, but the phone screen cracked under his electrified fingers. He managed three words before it died completely:
Jayden:*Got an upgrade.*
He stood on shaking legs, lightning still dancing across his skin in uncontrolled bursts. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed—probably responding to his electrical rampage.
He needed to get somewhere isolated before he hurt someone. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe that was just another rule he was supposed to follow, another expectation placed on people with powers.
Save people. Be heroes. Control themselves.
Fuck that.