The Heart of the Underdog

It had been four days since the serum awakened its power within him. In that time, Remond had spent every waking moment analyzing his newfound abilities.

His powers, as he had discovered, were an unusual combination of traits—part sponge, part vibranium from MCU. His body could absorb any kind of physical blow, acting like a sponge to store the kinetic energy as potential energy. Later, he could channel that stored energy into devastating punches or even release it as air projectiles with a snap of his fingers. However, there was a catch: creating these air projectiles consumed a significant amount of energy—roughly 20% of his total storage capacity by his approximation.

He had also learned his limits. His body could only absorb a finite amount of kinetic energy. Once that threshold was reached, an overwhelming urge to release it would take over. Failing to do so would make it increasingly difficult to breathe, as if he were drowning.

Another peculiar detail he noticed was that his body continuously absorbed the ambient kinetic energy from air vibrations—albeit at a slow rate of 1% per hour. And then there was the orange glow. Every time he released the stored energy, his body emitted a vivid orange aura. Despite his efforts, the reason behind this phenomenon remained a mystery.

"Hmm… who knows what this serum is really doing to me? If only Dr. Edwards were here, he could explain it," Remond mused aloud. Then his thoughts shifted to Sid. Should I ask him for help? No way! What am I even thinking? I can't drag him into this again. He already got attacked because of me. I have to deal with this on my own.

But today was Sunday, and guilt gnawed at him. He had been avoiding Sid, and it wasn't fair to their friendship. If he let this go on, things might worsen between them—something he couldn't afford.

"Alright," Remond muttered to himself, pulling out his battered, old phone. Its screen was cracked but still functional. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Sid's number. "Got it. Now, just call him and see if he's free."

With a deep breath, he dialed the number. After a few rings, Sid answered, his tone instantly teasing.

"At last! Now you remember your homie, huh?" Sid's voice was lighthearted, but there was a hint of concern beneath it.

Remond winced, scratching the back of his head. "Uhh… sorry, bro. I just… needed some time, you know?"

Sid chuckled. "It's fine. I know things have been rough for you. I won't hold it against you. So, what's up? Why're you calling now?"

"Well… it's Sunday, so I thought we could hang out and chat—if you don't mind, that is."

"I won't mind at all! Come over to my place. I'm totally free today," Sid said, glancing at the clock on his table. "How about you swing by around 10 a.m.?"

"That works. I'll be there on time," Remond replied, relief washing over him.

After a quick exchange of goodbyes, they hung up.

Half an hour later, Remond set out for Sid's house. It wasn't far from the school dorms—just 89 yards away, a brisk five-minute walk.

But as he strolled through the quiet streets, a strange figure stepped into his path. The man looked old, with an aura that screamed "mystery." His sharp, Eastern features were familiar somehow.

"Stop right there," the man commanded, his voice calm yet firm. "I need to talk to you."

Remond squinted, studying the stranger. Recognition dawned on him. "Wait… I've seen you before." His brows furrowed as he pieced it together. "Aren't you the guy from that day? You were there when the accident happened!"

The man's expression remained impassive. "I know what you're thinking, but I had nothing to do with that."

Remond's eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring. "No, you were coming out of the area right before it happened. You're the one who caused it, aren't you? I'm not letting this slide!"

Without hesitation, he lunged at the man, his fist cocked back and glowing faintly orange. The stranger didn't flinch, his calm demeanor unbroken.