Abandoned basketball court behind Midtown High – 11:52 PM
The chain-link fence creaked as Raj slipped through the gap he'd kicked open. A lamplight flickered and died nearby, casting the court into uneven shadows. The hoop's net was torn, its rusted chain clinking softly in the breeze like an impatient metronome. The entire place reeked of dust, decay—and tonight, surveillance.
He didn't like being here. Not this late. Not after the red dot from the other night. But ever since his powers had started mutating under sunlight, he'd needed wide, empty places to test them—away from people, from questions, from himself.
He crouched low in the corner near the three-point line and placed his hand flat against the cold pavement. Nothing happened. No spark. No hum. Just the faint echo of a city that never slept.
"Focus," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
With a deep breath, he tried again—calling the light, channeling it without glowing, without flaring. A gentle heat stirred in his palm, but he kept it contained, just below the skin. Controlled. Muted.
Then... a buzz. Faint, electronic.
He stood up sharply.
From a nearby rooftop, a camera lens shifted. Just barely. A flick of glass. He wouldn't have noticed it if his vision hadn't adjusted so finely to shadows. His instincts screamed louder than his thoughts.
They were watching again.
Raj turned his head slowly, pretending to stretch. Behind him, the fence had been patched. Someone had been here after him.
This was no ordinary test run.
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. A prickling sensation ran up his spine.
"I know you're out there," he muttered. "Come on. Show me the play."
Just then, a basketball rolled onto the court from the shadows.
Raj blinked.
"Seriously?" he whispered, glancing around.
He stepped back—but too late.
Click.
The ball had triggered something. A ring of tiny LED nodes embedded in the pavement lit up around him, flashing faint red.
A containment field?
"Oh no—"
The world pulsed.
From the edges of the court, energy panels flickered to life—invisible until activated. They crackled like a hummingbird's heartbeat, enclosing him in a dome of scanning tech. Not enough to trap him… but enough to study him.
He backed up, but the field pulsed again, forcing him to his knees. He gritted his teeth.
"I'm not your lab rat."
Before he could flare, a voice called out:
"Raj!"
Peter's silhouette landed hard on the chain-link fence before vaulting over it with that spider-kid grace. His eyes were wide under the mask.
"You weren't supposed to be here alone, man!"
Raj, still gritting his teeth, groaned. "Didn't realize we had curfew enforcement now."
Peter knelt next to him. "This whole place is rigged. Stark-grade surveillance. This wasn't built overnight."
"No kidding."
Suddenly, a drone buzzed above them—silent, matte-black, and barely bigger than a bird. It scanned Raj, its red beam focusing on his chest. He instinctively began to glow—but Peter grabbed his arm.
"Stop. That's what they want. They want a reaction."
Raj's pupils flared molten gold. "Then give them one."
Peter didn't blink. "Not like this."
For a moment, they locked eyes—hero and mystery. Raj saw the fear behind Peter's confidence. And Peter saw the fury inside Raj's calm.
But neither moved.
Then came the explosion—not from Raj, but from above.
BOOM.
The rooftop lit up in flames. One of the surveillance drones detonated, triggering a chain reaction across the containment tech. Sparks flew. The panels shattered.
Peter tackled Raj as another small blast erupted near the hoop. They crashed into the concrete just as the self-destruct sequence obliterated most of the tech.
Alarms didn't sound.
Only silence followed.
When the dust settled, Raj was shielding Peter—his arms glowing faintly, his skin shimmering with stored solar energy, but stable. Controlled.
Peter looked up and coughed. "You okay?"
Raj nodded. "You?"
"Gonna feel that landing tomorrow, but yeah."
A hundred yards away, hidden inside a matte-black surveillance van parked between dumpsters, Monica watched through the remaining live feed. Her eyes didn't blink. Her fingers hovered above a control panel.
"That glow," she whispered. "He's stabilizing faster than expected."
A voice on the comm crackled through.
"Proceed?"
Monica frowned. Her fingers hovered over the "engage" button. She looked at the screen—Raj and Peter dusting themselves off, the glow fading from Raj's skin.
"No," she said. "Pull back. I want to see what they do next... together."
Click. The feed went black.
Back on the court, Raj stood and looked around at the wreckage. Burnt tech, scattered sensors, and a lingering smell of ozone.
"This was never about trapping me," he said slowly. "It was about seeing what I'd do when I thought I was alone."
Peter brushed himself off. "Or how much control you really have."
Raj exhaled through his nose. "They wanted me to lose control."
Peter's mask slid halfway up. His tone dropped. "We're not just being watched anymore. We're being tested."
Raj looked at the charred remains of the containment field, his jaw tightening.
"And we passed."
Peter shook his head. "Barely."
They started walking toward the fence. For a second, Raj paused.
"You ever get tired of this?"
Peter gave a wry smile. "Every Day."
They pushed open the gate and disappeared into the night, unaware of the drone still watching—cloaked, silent, transmitting to a place neither of them had dared name yet.