The bell rang for the end of the day, but Raj didn't move. He sat in the back corner of the school library, surrounded by the silence only books could offer. A sketchpad rested in front of him, its pages dog-eared and smudged. On the newest page, one word was scrawled boldly at the top: SUIT.
He leaned back and studied his drawing.
The figure on the page was unmistakably him—or what he was becoming. The suit had a metallic golden sheen, with a radiant orange sun emblazoned across the chest. Crimson stripes arced from shoulder to wrist, like flares from a solar surface. It wasn't armor like Iron Man's, nor fabric like Spider-Man's. It was sleek but powerful, symbolic rather than flashy. It was the kind of suit that didn't shout "I'm a hero", but whispered "I'm a force."
Raj tapped his pencil on the table, nodding slowly. This was it. This was the suit of the boy who had walked through fire and refused to burn.
He packed his sketchpad and headed to the science lab where Peter was waiting. When he opened the door, Peter was hunched over a microscope, muttering to himself.
Raj dropped his bag onto the table with a thud.
Peter jumped. "Dude! You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Heart's still beating," Raj said with a smirk. "So not a real one."
Peter rolled his eyes, grinning. "What's up?"
Raj pulled out the sketchpad and handed it to him. "This."
Peter flipped through the pages until he landed on the suit design. His brow lifted, then his eyes widened. "Woah. Golden, huh? That's bold."
Raj leaned against the counter. "I didn't want to be another black-clad shadow in a hoodie. If I'm going to do this, I want to be seen. Not just by people—but by myself."
Peter studied the design a bit longer. "And the sun?"
Raj nodded slowly. "It's not just for show. It's... everything. The source of my strength. The light that won't let me fall apart."
Peter said, "Okay. If this is the suit, we need the right materials. Something flexible but heat-resistant, maybe layered with carbon-weave mesh. That orange chest symbol? We'll need a reflective panel or energy diffusers so it doesn't actually blind people."
"Or," Raj said, "maybe it should. Just a little."
They shared a laugh, easy and genuine, the kind that came rarely these days. Outside the window, the sky shifted. Clouds brewed—not heavy, not yet stormy, but thick with promise.
Peter pulled out a notepad. "Let's make a list. Fabric samples, potential polymers, heat absorbers... we'll figure out where to get everything."
Raj cracked his knuckles. "Good. Let's build something that says I'm not hiding anymore."
Meanwhile, miles away...
Inside a hidden observation chamber beneath a nondescript building on the city's outskirts, a row of figures in dark uniforms stood before a massive monitor.
"Replay it again," one of them said.
The screen showed a grainy clip from the mutant incident. Raj in mid-air, glowing golden, catching a collapsing steel beam before it crushed a family.
Another angle—him emerging from smoke, shirt scorched, arms radiating with solar light as the mutant vanished in a burst of energy.
"Pause."
The frame froze. The face was hard to make out—blurred, backlit—but the figure was unmistakable. The way he moved. The force he emitted. The unnatural resilience.
"His power is increasing," the agent murmured. "And his control is improving."
A higher-ranking officer stepped forward. "What of the current subject in New Mexico?"
The agent tapped a key, changing the screen.
A crater. A hammer. A storm. Cameras had caught the moment lightning had torn through the desert and something had fallen from the sky. The hammer lay in the center, immovable, guarded by a growing perimeter of armed personnel. The readings around it were impossible—cosmic radiation, gravitational shifts, ancient magnetic signatures.
Another screen showed satellite footage of an armored convoy moving in.
"Shield people are circling it like vultures," someone said. "They're taking this one seriously."
"Keep watching both assets," the commander said. "The boy and the hammer. There may be a link."
"Sir, should we act?"
"Not yet. We observe."
Back in Queens, that evening...
Raj and Peter stood under the glowing streetlights outside a small hardware store, holding a plastic bag filled with test materials—thermal fabric samples, wire mesh, and some metal scrap Peter had sworn could be useful.
"We'll have to test this stuff on the rooftop," Peter said.
"Not again," Raj groaned. "Can't we find a new training ground?"
"Okay, fine. We'll use the old scrapyard behind the construction site."
Raj nodded. "Good. Less chance of cameras. I'm already famous enough on the internet."
Peter grinned. "Still blurred like a budget superhero. You know, 'The Glowing Blur' could be your name."
Raj gave him a deadpan look. "I will throw you into the sun."
Peter held up his hands. "Okay, okay, 'Golden Justice' it is."
Raj smiled faintly and glanced up at the sky. "You feel that?"
Peter followed his gaze. "The wind?"
"No. Something heavier. Like the air's holding its breath."
Peter tilted his head. "You think it's about the hammer?"
Raj didn't answer at first. He didn't know if it was instinct or just tension, but there was a storm coiling somewhere out there—and it had nothing to do with weather.
That night...
Raj sat on his bed, the sketchpad open in his lap.
He touched the sun symbol he had drawn over and over again.
This is who I am now.
Not a god. Not a monster. Just a boy trying to forge meaning out of madness.
He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror.
Golden light flickered faintly under his skin, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Time to become who I was meant to be."
Outside, the wind howled.
And far away, Hydra watched.