In the shadowy underbelly of teen drama fused with sci-fi grit, Impulse Retcon continues to warp reality in its episode “New Beginnings.” This installment isn’t just a reset; it’s a sinister unraveling of truths, where superhuman abilities pale against the everyday horrors of deception, denial, and unchecked consequences. Drawing from the raw, unpolished edges of Doug Liman’s original Impulse series, this retconned version amps up the darkness, forcing viewers to question not just the characters’ motives, but the very fabric of accountability in a world where teleportation is both salvation and curse. Let’s dissect this episode’s twisted core, where “new beginnings” feel more like inescapable loops of trauma.

At the heart of the chaos is Henry Coles, our reluctant teleporter, whose powers manifest in moments of raw fear. In a blaze of irony, she saves Clay Boone from a fiery doom by whisking him away in an involuntary teleport—yet she remains blissfully (or willfully) ignorant of her superhero status. She denies it outright, brushing off the miracle as coincidence or luck. But Townes, her sharp-eyed ally with a knack for seeing through the veil, knows better. He pierces the denial, recognizing Henry’s abilities as something profound, almost evolutionary. This sets up a chilling contrast: while Henry teleports bodies out of danger, she can’t escape the mental prison of her own self-doubt. The episode lingers on this denial, painting it as a dark coping mechanism in a world where acknowledging power means facing the wreckage it leaves behind.

Henry’s worldview adds another layer of bleakness. She scoffs at “pause and enthusiasm,” viewing them as overrated crutches in a life that’s anything but controlled. Her loathing for these concepts underscores a deeper cynicism—why bother with restraint or excitement when existence is a series of explosive teleports and fractured relationships? This philosophy bleeds into her interactions, turning “New Beginnings” into a manifesto of quiet despair. It’s a subtle but devastating commentary on trauma survivors: Henry’s powers aren’t empowering; they’re a constant reminder of violation and loss, making praise and enthusiasm feel like a cruel joke.

Misinformation spirals like a vortex in this episode, ensnaring Jenna and Townes in Henry’s web of half-truths. Jenna, ever the voice of misplaced reason, urges Clay to “take some responsibility” for the alleged assault—a rape that Henry later confesses was a fabrication born from her own pain and confusion. Meanwhile, Townes channels vigilante fury, attempting to pummel Clay for the same nonexistent crime. The darkness here is palpable: even as Henry admits the lie—revealing to her mother Cleo that she not only consented but initiated the make-out session—the damage is done. Townes rants about “rules and boundaries,” oblivious or unwilling to absorb the truth. It’s a grim portrait of how accusations, once unleashed, mutate into their own monsters, devouring trust and reason. Henry, once again, emerges as the unwitting architect of turmoil, her lies teleporting destruction faster than her body ever could.

Cleo’s cluelessness amplifies the episode’s ominous tone. When Henry finally comes clean about the non-rape, Cleo clings to the narrative of holding Clay accountable, blind to the shifting sands beneath her feet. This maternal denial hints at broader systemic failures: why push for police involvement when the real mystery—the implosion of Clay’s truck that left him paralyzed—screams supernatural interference? The episode teases but never explores the impossibility of the Mennonites being responsible, leaving a void that’s as frustrating as it is foreboding. In a darker retcon, this oversight feels deliberate, suggesting a conspiracy where authorities might probe too close to Henry’s powers, unraveling everything. It’s a missed opportunity that heightens the sense of impending doom—someone, someday, will connect the dots, and the fallout could be catastrophic.

Evolutionary undertones weave through the narrative like a genetic shadow. Townes muses that Henry has undergone a “chrysalis form,” emerging transformed, and ponders if this is her “final form.” It’s a metaphor laced with dread: is Henry’s teleportation an upgrade or a mutation, a step toward something monstrous? This sci-fi thread ties into the episode’s corporate intrigue, with a sly nod to real-world tech titans. Cleartech, the shadowy firm developing teleportation tech while peddling solar panels and electric cars, screams Elon Musk parody. Their R&D on teleporters isn’t just innovation; it’s a predatory grasp on human potential, mirroring how companies exploit breakthroughs for profit. In “New Beginnings,” this connection casts Henry’s abilities as a commodity, a dark evolution commodified and controlled by unseen powers.

The episode culminates in a macabre finale that cements its dark credentials. Nikolai, the enigmatic fixer, emerges from the shadows to “clean up” the bodies Henry has inadvertently left in her wake. Dissolving Bill Boone in a vat of acid isn’t just disposal—it’s erasure, a chilling reminder that superpowers come with collateral damage. No traces, no questions, just the acidic hiss of consequences vanishing into oblivion. This ending doesn’t offer closure; it promises more darkness, hinting at a cycle where “new beginnings” are built on hidden graves.

Impulse Retcon‘s “New Beginnings” is a masterclass in unease, blending teen angst with supernatural horror to expose the rot beneath fresh starts. It’s understandable in its straightforward plot beats—lies exposed, powers denied, cleanups in the dark—but profoundly dark in its implications. Viewers are left pondering: in a world of teleporters and tech overlords, who really holds the power? And at what cost does denial keep the monsters at bay? If you’re craving a series that teleports you straight into moral ambiguity, this episode is your grim portal.