The Return of the Burned

A massive explosion tore through the sky, lighting up the clouds like a second sun.

People across Miami stared in shock, shouting and asking if a war had just begun.

In the midst of the chaos, two figures emerged—one falling, his body so badly burned that he was nearly unrecognizable, and the other, a man in a lab coat, plummeting helplessly. Midair, the burned man suddenly regained consciousness, his eyes wild with pain and fury. Without hesitation, he surged toward the doctor, seizing him midair with one hand, and together, they plummeted toward a concealed laboratory.

"Give me clothes, or I'll split you in half," the burned man growled, his voice crackling with fury and agony.

The doctor didn't dare refuse. Trembling slightly, he grabbed a pair of pants and a T-shirt, trying to turn around—

"DON'T TURN AROUND! Just give me the clothes, you ####!" the burned man barked, his voice thick with vicious curses and insults in Chinese.

Shaking but determined, the doctor handed over the clothes, muttering, "I'm from Japan."

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air behind him.

"Whatever you are, you all look the same ####. Now you can turn around," the burned man ordered.

When the doctor turned, he saw the man had donned the pants and torn the T-shirt into a makeshift mask. Blood poured from his body in torrents, pooling across the floor of the lab.

"You… how are you still alive with burns like that? And your blood is pouring out of you!" the doctor stammered, his disbelief palpable.

"I'm regenerating, dumb####," Spectra snapped. He grabbed the doctor by the collar, yanking him closer.

"How are you alive, unscathed?" Spectra demanded, as blood splattered onto the doctor's once-white shirt.

The doctor took a slow, steadying breath, his hands no longer shaking. "The suit," he replied, his voice composed. "It has an emergency protocol. If it absorbs too much force and overloads, it triggers a protective energy shield made of nano-particles to shield me from the explosion."

"That's quite smart," Spectra muttered, pausing for a moment. "Why did I say that to an Asian?" he added, his words dripping with frustration.

Without another word, he grabbed the doctor and took off, moving with deadly speed toward the police department. As he arrived, he casually threw the doctor toward the front doors, then used the torn T-shirt to scrawl a quick note with the blood from his own wounds. The message was short and to the point: "He's the one who started the explosion."

The note was left in the doctor's clothes, alongside a trail of blood-stained footsteps. Spectra didn't linger. The message had been delivered, and with that, he disappeared into the shadows, flying at top speed toward his house, eager for rest.

Thirty minutes later

the lab door creaked open. The doctor entered, laughing to himself. "Well, he may have destroyed my work and blueprints, but I had backup plans. Sounds like there's a traitor in the syndicates who exposed one of my labs, huh?"

He looked around, then stopped, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood pooled on the floor. "Well, look at that," he mused, walking toward the mess. His grin widened. "Hmmm, I thank God I'm terribly smart."

With a gloved hand, he scooped up a sample of the blood, studying it closely. "Hmmm... His blood cells are still alive... and warm, huh? Well, that makes things a lot easier." He let out a laugh that was almost too loud, shaking with the kind of madness that only comes with unchecked ambition.

Meanwhile…

Spectra landed with a heavy thud on the balcony of his New York apartment, blood dripping from his wounds, his scorched face partially hidden behind a torn, makeshift mask.

Inside, Ali's eyes snapped to the sound. He stepped back, fists raised. "What the hell—?"

The burned figure staggered forward, smearing blood across the glass door.

"Relax," Hamza rasped, voice low and ragged. "I'm your cousin, dumbass."

Ali's hands dropped, but his expression stayed sharp. "I thought you were dead. I told your parents about the explosion. Your mom cried, man."

Hamza let out a dry, bitter chuckle. "You shouldn't have done that."

Ali looked him over. "Your healing factor is working, right?"

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't be here," Hamza muttered.

"I'll tell your parents you're alive. You can rest now," Ali said, turning toward his phone.

"Good... good," Hamza murmured as he limped toward the nearest bed and collapsed face-first into it.

Ali raised an eyebrow. "Dude, that's my be—... you know what? Just sleep."

the next day

"Ew—uh, bro, wake up," Ali muttered, shaking Hamza's shoulder, pulling his hand back as it touched dried blood "Hey, get up."

Hamza groaned, his voice rough. "What… what do you want?"

"Take a shower, man. We gotta get to high school," Ali said, snapping his fingers in front of Hamza's face.

"Alright, alright…" Hamza mumbled, sitting up slowly. He stretched, cracking his neck, arms above his head—revealing a lean, defined torso.

Ali blinked, eyebrows raised. "Dude. Since when did you start hitting the gym?"

Hamza rubbed his eyes. "Never. Why?"

Ali tilted his head toward the mirror. "Look at yourself and you'll figure it out."

"nahh gonna take shower first" said hamza 

"suit yourself then"

Hamza stripped, glanced at the bathroom mirror—just a second, not even registering what he saw—and stepped into the shower. Ten minutes turned to twenty, and twenty into thirty. When he finally came out, fresh and dressed, he found Ali waiting.

"Let's go, bro," Hamza said, tossing on his backpack.

Ali gave him a deadpan stare. "You know how long that shower took?"

Hamza shrugged. "How long?"

"Thirty. Freaking. Minutes."

"Thirty minutes?!" Hamza yelped

Ali sighed. "Yeah We're gonna be late—unless…"

Hamza cut him off. "Alright, alright we'll fly."

Ali grinned. "That's what I'm talking about."

Hamza paused just before taking off, closing his eyes to concentrate. He reached out with his powers, focusing hard—trying to share them with Ali. A sudden wave of weakness hit him like a punch to the gut, his knees nearly buckling.

But as always, he recovered.

"Alright" he muttered. "Hold on tight."

With a powerful whoosh, they launched into the sky, slicing through the air at dizzying speed.

"DUDE!" Ali shouted over the wind "How long has it been since I flew like this?!"

"I dunno… long time ago I guess" Hamza replied, grinning beneath the wind's roar.

Ali looked down at the blur of buildings below "And I still fly better than your slow ahh."

"Nuh uh," Hamza shot back

"Yuh uh."

"Nuh uh."

"Yuh uh."

They went back and forth like two kids on a playground, laughing mid-air, tossing playful insults as they zoomed across the sky. The wind whipped around them, but nothing could quiet their banter.

Finally, they approached the area near their school. Hamza slowed, scanning for a quiet spot. He landed them in a hidden alley, away from traffic and prying eyes.

"Nailed it," he said brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder.

"You're still slow," Ali muttered with a smirk.

"yah yah whatever" 

A few minutes later…

The school courtyard buzzed with students—some in uniforms, others still half-asleep, yawning and sipping iced coffee. Teachers in polos and slacks stood near the entrance, ushering people toward the central quad where a temporary stage had been set up.

A large sign hung overhead:"Welcome Back! Horizon High — New Year, New Futures!"

Hamza and Ali merged with the crowd, slipping into the back row as the principal tapped the mic on stage.

"Good morning, Horizon Hawks!" Principal Vasquez's voice boomed through the speakers, forcing half the students to flinch. "I hope you all had a restful summer—though by the looks on some of your faces, I'm guessing not all of you slept before 2 a.m!"

A weak chuckle rose from the students. Ali elbowed Hamza whispering, "He's trying way too hard to be relatable."

Hamza gave a small nod, but he wasn't really listening. His gaze scanned the crowd—faces blurred together, unaware of who was walking among them. No one seemed to recognize him beneath the healed skin and clean clothes. He was just another kid in a sea of teens.

"And now, for some very important updates," the principal continued, holding up a clipboard. "New security rules, locker assignments, and—oh yes—tryouts for the fall sports teams will begin next week."

"Bet," Ali whispered. "I'm trying out for soccer again."

"It's football, dumbass" Hamza muttered.

"We're in America. I'm just blending in"

As the announcements continued, most students tuned out. Some were whispering to each other, checking their phones, or adjusting backpacks that still had vacation dust on them.

"…and lastly," Principal Vasquez was saying "remember that your homeroom teachers will be taking attendance immediately after this assembly. If you're not in class on time, don't come complaining to me when you get marked absent!"

A few groans rippled through the crowd.

With that, the mic squealed slightly before cutting off. The principal gave a wave and stepped down as the assembly broke up. The students began to scatter toward the main buildings.

Ali stretched. "I forgot how boring these assemblies were. You'd think the first day would be exciting."

"It's school, not a concert," Hamza replied.

"Still. First day back. New classes. New people. Maybe even new cute girls."

Hamza rolled his eyes. "That's all you care about?"

"Hell no," Ali said, looking at him. "Just lunch."

They walked side by side toward the school entrance. The halls were packed with noise people shouting names, lockers slamming, teachers handing out timetables.

A girl bumped into Hamza's shoulder and gave him a weird look. He mumbled an apology and kept walking.

Ali glanced over. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah. Just… it's weird being back."

Ali nodded. "Well, get used to it. We're stuck here till we graduate."

Hamza checked the folded schedule in his hand. "Room B12?"

"Same," Ali said. "Let's roll."

They reached the classroom just as the bell rang. Students were already finding seats, the windows letting in soft morning light. The teacher, a tall man with glasses and a short beard, looked up from his desk.

"You two just made it," he said.

"Of course," Ali replied, grinning.

Hamza slipped into a seat near the back, backpack resting at his feet. The classroom was filled with idle chatter, nervous laughter, and the low hum of fluorescent lights.

Just another school day.

Just as the classroom settled into a quiet buzz, the door creaked open.

A girl with striking white hair stepped inside, turning heads instantly.

The teacher looked up. "Class, we have a new student joining us today. She wasn't here last year, so let's be on our best behavior and give her a warm welcome. Her name is—"

"Soraya Voss," the girl interrupted confidently. "And sorry for cutting you off, sir."

The teacher blinked, caught off guard, then gave a small nod. "Alright… just don't make a habit of it. Now, could you continue introducing yourself?"

Soraya gave a slight smile and stepped forward. "Well… I like learning science, and I enjoy solving math problems at school. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a nerd."

The teacher nodded. "Good to hear. Science and math are great strengths to have. Why don't you take a seat, Soraya?"

She walked calmly to an empty desk and sat down without another word.

The room fell back into its quiet rhythm.

TBC