The next evening, the sun dipped behind the city's skyline in streaks of gold and coral. Raj stood on the rooftop of Midtown High, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie as the wind teased the edges of his shirt. He stared out over Queens, trying to calm the storm of energy humming beneath his skin. The sunlight still hadn't faded from his bones. He could feel it—crackling in his fingertips, pulsing in his breath.
Peter landed beside him with a casual thwip of webbing and a bounce. He wore his hoodie over his suit this time, only the edge of the Spider-Man mask peeking out of his bag.
"Evening, glowy boy," Peter said, unzipping a duffel bag and pulling out what looked like… gym equipment? "Hope you stretched."
"I don't need to stretch," Raj muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Bones of reinforced light. Remember?"
"Even Superman does warmups," Peter said, handing him a ten-pound medicine ball and promptly swapping it for a fifty-pound version. "Okay. Maybe not your Superman. But I've got a feeling your inner battery could use calibration."
Raj cocked a brow. "You read that off a science podcast?"
Peter ignored him. "Alright, rules first. One—no accidental explosions. Two—if I yell duck, it's not a metaphor. And three—try not to shatter any innocent pigeons."
Raj tilted his head. "That a common problem for you?"
"You'd be amazed," Peter said solemnly. "So, what can you do without glowing like a human supernova?"
Raj took a breath and closed his eyes. "Let's find out."
First Trial: Strength
The first test was easy—too easy. Peter rolled over a metal filing cabinet from the corner of the roof, probably discarded during some ancient renovation.
"Can you lift this?" Peter asked.
Raj knelt and picked it up with one hand like it was a plastic box. He tossed it gently in the air, caught it, and set it down.
"Okay, that was terrifying," Peter said. "And also hot. But mostly terrifying."
Raj rolled his eyes and moved on.
Second Trial: Speed
Peter brought out a speed radar gun and gestured toward a short straightaway across the roof.
"Run that line. One end to the other. Let's clock you."
Raj sighed, crouched low, and blurred. He crossed the fifty-foot rooftop in a gust of wind and a sound like a whumpf of air displacement. Peter staggered, hair windswept.
The gun shorted out with a puff of smoke.
"…You broke my Stark Tech knockoff."
Raj shrugged. "Should've told it to stretch."
Third Trial: Jump
Peter pointed toward a neighboring rooftop fifteen feet away. "How's your vertical leap?"
Raj backed up, knees bent, and leapt.
He soared like a cannonball, landing on the opposite roof with a crack of brick and a small crater underfoot. Dust puffed upward in a halo around his boots.
Peter blinked. "Okay. Note to self: don't take him to basketball tryouts."
Fourth Trial: Light Control
This was the hard part.
Peter pulled a fireproof target board from his bag—charred and clearly reused.
"Try focusing the energy. Just a beam. Not a pulse."
Raj took position. Closed his eyes.
Focused.
At first, only his palms glowed faintly. Then light gathered between his fingers, condensing into a thin, humming beam that shot toward the board and scorched a perfect hole through its center.
Peter's eyebrows lifted. "That… was surgical."
Raj looked down at his hands. They glowed gold at the fingertips, but the rest of him remained dim. No sunburst veins. No molten aura.
"I think I'm learning to… localize it," he said quietly.
Fifth Trial: Failure
"Try it again," Peter said.
Raj nodded and summoned the light.
But this time, it flared too fast. The beam sputtered, then exploded outward in a radiant pulse that cracked a nearby vent pipe and scorched the edge of Peter's sleeve.
Peter yelped and rolled backward. "Dude! I said no explosions!"
Raj's fists clenched. The light flickered in his chest, pulsing like a second heart. "I'm trying."
Peter raised his hands. "Hey. I get it. Control's hard. I used to accidentally stick myself to the shower wall. This is just the more nuclear version."
Raj turned away, breathing hard. "You don't understand. This isn't mutation. This isn't science. It's like something's watching me—from inside. Like I'm a lantern someone else left burning."
Peter stepped closer. "You think I wasn't terrified the first time I climbed a wall? I thought I'd break my neck in gym class. You're not supposed to have it all figured out, man."
Raj didn't speak.
Peter added, quieter, "You're not alone in this."
Sixth Trial: Pulse Control
They tried one last test.
Peter set up a sensor on Raj's chest—an old wrist scanner retooled with duct tape and hope.
Raj stood still, arms out, eyes shut. "Tell me when."
Peter gave a nod. "Now. Let the light out—but keep it in your skin. Like… a glowstick. Not a bomb."
Raj exhaled slowly.
His body began to shimmer—softly this time. A pale, golden light rose under his skin, tracing his veins like filaments. His eyes flickered, gold and deep.
But nothing exploded.
Peter stared at the readings. "Dude. That's it. That's controlled output. You just dimmed your own sun."
Raj opened his eyes, still glowing faintly. "I feel like a lightbulb on a dimmer switch."
"Exactly!" Peter grinned. "And dimmer switches don't explode cafeterias."
Raj chuckled. "Most of the time."
They sat on the rooftop edge, sweaty and windblown, the city stretching out below them.
Peter glanced at him. "You're getting there."
Raj nodded. "One rooftop at a time."