The first explosion didn't sound like one. Not at first. It was a low, thunderous boom, more like the sky had decided to cough than shatter. But every window at Midtown High trembled. Every head turned.
Raj looked up from his notebook, pencil frozen mid-word. Outside the glass pane beside him, the city skyline had grown a plume—thick, black, and climbing like it had a grudge against the heavens. For a second, everything was still. Silent. Watching.
Then came the second boom.
The fireball erupted above downtown like a red flower blooming in reverse—petals of flame rolling outward, windows bursting below, the skeleton of a building flickering in silhouette. Even from miles away, the heat shimmered through the air like ripples on water.
The class erupted into gasps, chairs scraping, students rushing toward the window. Some were already recording. A few screamed. One guy shouted, "Holy crap, it's another alien invasion!" but nobody laughed.
Raj didn't move.
Because something had changed in him.
Not just his thoughts—his body. His chest pulsed. Not painfully, but like something inside him had recognized the heat. It wasn't panic. It wasn't fear. It was resonance. Like his whole solar-fed system had just been poked with a giant fiery stick and gone, "Yes, I see you."
Peter, three desks away, caught his eye across the chaos. He looked calm. Too calm. Spidey-sense probably already screaming in Morse code. Peter gave a tiny, imperceptible nod. Raj nodded back. Game time.
The intercom crackled.
"All students are to remain calm. Midtown High is initiating emergency dismissal protocols. Teachers, begin evacuation procedures—"
The message was cut off by another explosion, smaller this time, but closer. Maybe a gas main. Maybe not.
Raj's teacher—Mr. Brooks, who usually couldn't care less if the classroom caught fire as long as the essays were turned in—sprinted toward the door like he had a rocket where his heart should be.
"Leave everything. Phones in your pockets. Let's move!"
Raj stood, grabbing his backpack. The hallway was already packed with bodies, voices overlapping in fear and curiosity. He didn't follow the crowd. Not really.
He drifted along the edge of the herd, eyes constantly drawn to the windows, to the flickering light far off in the city like some god was stoking a bonfire out of control.
He could feel it.
Every flicker of flame, every gust of heat, seemed to wake up something in him. His skin tingled—not from adrenaline, but from a strange energy flow he hadn't felt before. Like sunlight, but warped. Like something was challenging him. Daring him to respond.
And his body?
It didn't shrink away.
It leaned in.
In the chaos, Peter caught up with him near the stairs.
"You feel that?" Peter asked, too casually.
Raj didn't even pretend. "Like a siren song made of napalm."
"Yeah." Peter glanced around. "You going?"
"You mean skipping out and sprinting toward the exploding skyscraper like a complete lunatic?" Raj raised an eyebrow.
Peter gave him a look. "You're glowing again."
Raj cursed under his breath and dipped his head, tugging his hoodie up. A faint shimmer had started on his arms—his solar energy reacting, pulsing in defense or excitement, maybe both.
"I can't control it when the adrenaline hits," Raj muttered.
Peter put a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "Just remember the rooftop. Breathe. Center it."
Raj closed his eyes. The buzz in his chest. The molten gold in his blood. The heat under his skin.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The light dimmed. Not gone, but calm. Patient. Waiting.
"You good?" Peter asked.
"Better than I should be."
"Then go."
Raj looked at him. "What about you?"
Peter smirked and pulled out a hoodie from his backpack—the very familiar red-and-blue one, subtly webbed. "You know me. I hate missing parties."
Raj gave a quiet laugh. "You're a bad influence."
"Yeah, well, bad influences save lives too."
They broke off. Peter headed for the back stairwell. Raj ducked out the side exit, slipping into an alley as the evacuation wave moved past. The sunlight above had turned orange now—not from the time of day, but from the smoke in the sky. Like the whole atmosphere was bleeding light.
He looked up.
The burning plume was still there. So much fire. So much uncontrolled heat.
And beneath it all, that strange pull inside him—deep in his chest, where solar radiation coiled like a second heart—responded. Louder. Faster.
Something was happening.
Something big.
And Raj wasn't just going to watch it on the news.
He knelt, crouching low. A golden shimmer ran down his legs as his muscles tensed. His hoodie fluttered in the wind.
Then he jumped.
And the city opened up beneath him.