Max leaned against the window, the city lights stretching far below like stars scattered across the streets. FEAST's glow reflected faintly in the glass — a warm, steady light in the middle of all that chaos.
It felt… good. Quiet. Real.
For once, there were no alarms, no explosions, no enemies hiding in the dark. Just people — laughing, working, living.
Lumia walked over, brushing her hands on a towel. "You look like you're actually relaxing," she said, smiling softly.
He chuckled. "Don't tell anyone. They'll think I've gone soft."
"Too late," she teased. "Aunt May already saw you serving soup. That's basically a lifetime record."
Max laughed under his breath, the sound low and genuine. "Guess there are worse reputations to have."
They stood together for a while, watching the people outside — kids running past the window, volunteers helping pack up for the night.
"You know," Lumia said, "when we started this, I wasn't sure it would actually work. But seeing all this now…"
"It's working," Max finished for her. "Bit by bit."
She nodded. "You think it'll last?"
Max thought for a moment before replying, "As long as people like Peter and Aunt May keep believing, yeah… I think it will."
Lumia smiled faintly. "And you?"
He shrugged, eyes still on the skyline. "I'll stick around for a while. Maybe help keep the lights on."
"Good," she said softly. "It suits you — this version of you."
Max turned toward her with a small, tired grin. "Don't get too comfortable. I'm still me."
"Sure," Lumia said, already walking away, "but maybe a little less of a storm now."
When she was gone, Max looked out the window again. The wind brushed against the glass, carrying the sound of laughter and faint music from the street below.
He let out a quiet sigh — not of exhaustion, but of peace.
Outside, Peter was still helping clean up, sleeves rolled up, smiling as he talked with volunteers. Aunt May stood beside him, hands clasped, proud and calm.
The night had settled over the city, draping everything in a soft, amber glow. Streetlights flickered to life one by one, and the hum of conversation outside the FEAST Center blended with the distant rhythm of traffic.
Max leaned his shoulder against the frame, watching Peter and May laugh with a group of volunteers. Peter handed out boxes of leftovers to the last few visitors while May gave a child her scarf, wrapping it gently around the little girl's neck before sending her off with a warm smile.
It was such a simple scene — but to Max, it carried more weight than any victory he'd ever fought for.
Lumia's voice came from behind him again, softer this time. "You ever think about what comes next?"
He didn't turn around. "Next?"
"Yeah," she said, leaning against the opposite wall. "For people like us… it's always something. Another mission, another mess to fix."
Max smiled faintly. "Maybe this is the something. Maybe the world doesn't always need saving — maybe sometimes it just needs… care."
Lumia folded her arms, considering that. "You almost sound like Aunt May."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
She chuckled quietly, then pushed away from the wall. "We're closing up soon. You should come downstairs, say goodbye before she leaves. She'd like that."
Max nodded, watching her disappear down the hall. He stayed a moment longer, eyes tracing the skyline. The reflection of the FEAST sign shone faintly beside him — Food. Emergency Aid. Shelter. Training. Four simple words, but they meant something. Something solid.
When he finally walked downstairs, the main hall was nearly empty. The air smelled of cleaning solution and warm bread. Gwen was locking up the supply cabinet, while Mu Qing and Lan Xue checked the last of the medical logs. Malaika waved him over with a clipboard.
"Max, the food inventory's balanced for the week. Lumia said to double-check the east wing generator in the morning."
"Got it," he replied, taking the clipboard briefly before setting it aside. "Go get some rest. You've all done enough for today."
She gave him a small smile. "We, Max. We've done enough."
He nodded quietly.
Near the exit, Aunt May was speaking softly with Peter. Her voice carried just enough for Max to hear as he approached.
"You did good today, Peter," she said, adjusting his collar like he was still that awkward kid she raised.
Peter smiled, embarrassed. "Thanks, May. I couldn't have done it without everyone."
"You never can," she said simply. "That's the point."
Max stood beside them, hands in his pockets. "She's right, you know."
Peter turned with a grin. "You always eavesdropping, or is that a new thing?"
"Occupational habit," Max said dryly.
Aunt May chuckled, giving him a gentle pat on the arm. "You should stay for dinner tomorrow. I'm making lasagna."
He tilted his head. "Careful, I might actually show up."
"I'm counting on it," she said warmly before heading out with one of the volunteers.
Peter exhaled slowly, watching her go. "You know, I think for the first time in a long while… she's really happy."
"She deserves to be," Max said. "You all do."
Peter looked at him for a moment. "You too, you know. You've done a lot to get this running. You don't have to keep pretending you're just passing through."
Max smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm not pretending anymore."
Peter raised a brow. "That your way of saying you're sticking around?"
"For a while," Max said. "At least until I find something worth breaking again."
Peter laughed. "Well, if you get bored, I can always find you some paperwork."
"Don't push your luck."
They both laughed quietly, the sound blending with the hum of the city outside.
As Peter locked the doors and the last lights dimmed, Max stepped out into the cool night air. The wind brushed against his hair, carrying the faint scent of street food and rain from somewhere nearby.
He glanced back at the FEAST sign one last time — its glow steady, unshaken — before walking down the street.
***
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