The morning sun filtered through the clouds like reluctant fingers, casting Midtown's rooftops in a grayish amber glow. The world was awake again—students trudging toward school, cabs honking like usual, pigeons arguing about breakfast—but on a certain rooftop, two boys sat in silence.
Raj leaned back against the cold brick wall, a steaming thermos of chai in his hands. His knuckles were scraped, and the hoodie he wore still smelled faintly of smoke. Beside him, Peter was crouched like a gargoyle on the edge, arms wrapped around his knees, watching the city as if it might suddenly burst into flames.
"Are we gonna talk about it?" Peter finally asked, not looking at him.
Raj took a sip. "We did. Last night. While limping away from a self-destructing robot drone trap designed to make me glow like a cursed lightbulb."
Peter exhaled slowly. "Right. That."
Another beat of silence.
"I could've hurt you," Raj said, voice low. "If I'd lost control…"
Peter glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "You didn't."
"But I almost did."
"But you didn't," Peter repeated, firmer this time. "You didn't burn the field. You didn't light up like a nuclear disco ball. You shielded me from the blast. So let's focus on the part where you didn't go full supernova and barbecue my face."
Raj smirked faintly. "You're weirdly casual about almost dying."
Peter shrugged. "I have practice. Occupational hazard. Also, I trust you."
That made Raj pause.
"You trust me?"
Peter looked him dead in the eye. "Yeah. I've seen what you do when it matters. And that matters more than the... glowing. Or the eye thing. Or the fact that you keep trying to act like this whole thing is gonna end in flames."
Raj stared at his hands. "What if it does?"
Peter reached over, casually smacked him on the shoulder. "Then we'll roast marshmallows on the ashes. You're not alone, man."
The words sat heavy, warm, and confusing in Raj's chest. He wasn't used to this. Not in this world. Not in any world.
"Monica saw everything," Raj murmured. "She was in that van. Probably recording it all."
Peter's face darkened. "She's not a school teacher. She's not even pretending anymore."
Raj nodded. "Agent. Government, corporate, or private—I don't know. But the trap, the way she lured me in, the precision of that explosion? She knew exactly what would trigger me. It wasn't random."
Peter stood and began pacing. "Then someone's feeding her intel. Stark Industries, maybe. I told you, Stark's got these side projects. Surveillance stuff. Enhanced detection, bio-signature mapping—things not public."
Raj's eyes flickered. "You think I'm one of his 'side projects'?"
Peter hesitated. "I think… someone knows what you are. Or at least, they're trying to figure it out. And Monica's job is to push you until you break."
Raj let that settle. "She'll try again."
"Definitely."
"And next time, I might not stop glowing."
"Then we train harder."
Raj snorted. "You say that like you're my personal Yoda."
Peter grinned. "More like your friendly neighborhood flashlight wrangler."
"Terrible nickname."
"You love it."
Raj chuckled, but it faded fast. "Jokes are easier than fear."
Peter sat again, closer this time. "That's the thing about fear—it's easier to carry when someone else knows it's there."
For a moment, Raj didn't reply. Then he quietly said, "I felt it again. In the moment before the blast. That... pull. Like something inside me wanted to unleash. Like glowing would feel good."
Peter didn't react with fear. Just... quiet understanding. "Power's like that. Especially when it's new. But what you do with it? That's who you are."
They sat there for a while, the silence not so heavy now.
Eventually, Raj asked, "What now?"
Peter stood. "We stop reacting. We start planning."
Raj raised a brow. "Planning?"
"Yeah. We set the pace. We pick the time, the place, the moves. We don't wait for traps—we build defenses. We use your powers on purpose. No more fear of the light. We make it yours."
Raj considered this. "And Monica?"
Peter's expression was razor-sharp. "We let her watch. Let her report. But next time she tries something…" He cracked his knuckles. "We show her what control looks like."
Raj finally stood, rolling his shoulders. "You're getting dramatic again."
"I hang out with myself a lot. I need monologues."
They grinned, just for a heartbeat. Then Raj looked out over the city.
"Alright. No more fear."
"No more running," Peter added.
They bumped fists, not in some over-the-top superhero way, just... like two friends acknowledging the start of something that wouldn't end in fire unless they chose it to.
Meanwhile...
In a dimly lit control room several blocks away, Monica sat before a bank of monitors, watching the rooftop feed. The footage was grainy—Raj shielding Peter from the blast, then collapsing, only to get back up.
Her eyes narrowed.
She rewound. Watched the pulse flare in slow motion. An energy signature unlike any recorded enhanced human. Not gamma. Not arc. Something... new.
She clicked open a report file.
SUBJECT: RAJ MALHOTRA
Status: Unregistered Enhanced Individual
Recommendation: Further testing required. High priority. Potential anomaly.
Notes: Subject exhibits restraint despite unstable power levels. Emotional triggers may provide access to full capabilities. Caution advised.
A voice crackled through her earpiece. "Update?"
Monica answered without turning. "They're starting to connect the dots. I need approval to proceed."
A pause. Then: "You'll have it. Make it clean."
She cut the feed. The screen went dark.
Back on the rooftop, Raj looked up at the sky, where clouds were finally breaking. A little light crept through. But this time, he didn't feel like hiding from it.
He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and said, "Alright. Let's go to class."
Peter blinked. "You mean, like... actually attend school?"
"I figure we might as well pretend we're normal."
"You're glowing inside, and I'm a wall-crawling spider nerd. Normal is dead."
Raj grinned. "Then let's be... abnormally prepared."
Peter groaned. "That was awful."
"Still better than 'flashlight wrangler.'"
They headed to the rooftop ladder, side by side.
Whatever was coming next—they'd be ready.
Together.