Electron: Origins

Prologue:

The wind rushed around Jason Pelt in a vicious vacuum of air, buffeting his body in a series of choppy waves. With arms outstretched and legs straight together, Jason tore through the stratosphere at blinding speeds, the only indication of his existence being a silver and blue blur in the afternoon sky. Jason smiled widely, the sides of his pale lips curling up. Feeling the rush of the wind against his fingertips...the way it seemed to vibrate through his very being...it all pleased him so much. With a wide, cheeky grin, Jason curled his body up quickly and lurched forward into the air, a splitting boom echoing though the skies. His body was a blur before, but now it was a streak. A straight line of pulsing blue power that crashed through the skies with a scream. It was at these points that Jason felt truly alive. Nothing up here could bother him, and he liked it that way. Down on the ground were problems of all sorts. Gangs, corruption, pollution and terrorists just to name a few. Once in a long while, a hero deserves a break. This is the life. Jason mused. All alone in the skies...my skies. Nobody to bother me or make me feel threatened at all. This is what a real Saturday should feel like. Lazy and relaxed. For a hero, however, there was no such thing as pure relaxation. It always seemed to be interrupted, as Jason was soon to find out. As he streaked through the skies, something bulky and dark burst through a cloud to his right. He was going too fast to see what it was, but he kicked his legs out in front of him and shoved himself back, turning to see what had just interrupted his midmorning flight. "I swear to God..." he mumbled tightly under his breath. What faced him was odd and bulky, and flew clumsily. It was a large, solid black robot in the shape of a man. It had broad, heavy shoulders and a face with a permanent scowl that seemed to be crudely welded onto it. Whoever took the time to make it certainly didn't think much about the aesthetics.