Alexia paced in her room, restless. It was only 8:00, and not much crime would be happening. Still, she felt the need to do something. She changed into her costume, looking around to make sure that no one could see her, and jumped off of her balcony. She decided to swing by Central Park; it seemed like something illegal was always happening there.
Sure enough, less than two blocks away from the park, she heard a scream coming from an ally, and headed in that direction. She assessed the situation from a fire escape directly above the scene.
"How many times have I told you, Angela? You can't leave me. We belong together," said a man about her age. He had dark, longish hair and a muscular build. His left hand extended to the wall to block the girl from leaving, and his right hand held a knife close to her face.
"Let me go, please. I'll stay, I promise," Angela begged, crying.
"I don't trust you. I saw you sneaking around with that guy from your class," he replied.
"He's just a friend, Max."
"And what did I tell you about having friends that I don't know about," Max asked menacingly.
Alexia decided that she'd had enough of this control freak. She jumped down behind him. Before he could even turn to see who was there, she grabbed the hand holding the knife and twisted, forcing him to drop it, and shoved him into the opposite wall. Although he was out of breath, Max swung at her. Alexia responded by blocking him and punching him in the face, harder than she usually would, and Max slumped against the wall, unconscious.
Alexia turned to Angela, who had sat down, crying.
"Are you okay," Alexia asked. The girl nodded slowly.
"Come on, let's get you out of here," Alexia said, and helped Angela to her feet. Angela looked back at Max as they left the ally.
"It's okay. Everything's going to be fine," Alexia reassured her, and they headed toward the nearest women's shelter.
At first, Max wasn't sure where he was. He sat up slowly, his head feeling as though someone had hit it with a hammer. Why was he there? He tried to remember. Something was missing.
A glint of moonlight against metal caught his eye, and he reached toward, barely able to see anything in the dim light. As he picked it up and realized that it was his knife, he remembered what had happened. Max stood up, looking around. Spider-Woman was gone, and so was his girlfriend.
"Angela," he called. Where had she gone?
Max seethed with rage. Angela was his girlfriend. She belonged to him, and always would. She'd been stolen from him, but he would get her back. And if he didn't, no one else would have her, either. Max would kill her before he would let her leave. He couldn't live without her. He started to run toward the street.
"I'm going to get her back," he yelled as he ran across the road. Suddenly, he was blinded by a white light as a Mack-sized truck rounded the corner. The horn blared. Max put his hands up instinctively, and the large truck swerved, just missing him. It fish-tailed into a telephone pole, the back doors flying open, and barrels toppled out of it.
Max fell, scrambling to get out of the way of the heavy metal cylinders. One of them burst open beside him, drenching him in a blue liquid. Then he looked up at the truck and the telephone pole as sparks crackled and faded. The telephone pole fell onto the street, the power lines igniting gas that had leaked from the truck. The truck exploded as electric currents raced through the ground. Max felt a terrible pain for a moment, but then there was only darkness...
When Max woke up, all he could see at first was a pulsating blue light. He stood up, unhurt, and realized where the light was coming from; himself.
"What the-", he started to say, but stopped as he spotted a sign on one of the barrels beside him. It was labeled 'Biohazard'.
"No! What is this," Max cried. The blue aura around him brightened, and tendrils of electricity swirled around him. With a shriek of rage, he punched the window of a parked car, but before his fist could strike the glass, a bolt of electricity shot out of his hand. The car's windows shattered, and it was lifted into the air. In his surprise, Max dropped it. Then an idea came to him.
He manipulated another bolt to surround the car, lifting it high above his head. With a wave of his arm, the car flew through the air across the street, erupting in flames as it crashed into a building. Max smiled. This was how he was going to get Angela back. And then, he would kill the one who had tried to take her away.
He focused, drawing the electricity into himself. It drew back slowly, snaking up his arms beneath his skin toward his face until all that remained were glowing blue eyes that crackled with energy.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they had returned to normal. He walked away from the fiery street, a plan forming in his mind. Electro was born.