The morning felt too loud.
Raj walked into Midtown High with his hoodie pulled up, eyes scanning the crowd as if every laughing student was a spy in disguise. The halls were as chaotic as ever—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, Ned shouting something about a new Star Wars trailer—but to Raj, it all felt muffled, like background noise behind glass.
He felt like the only person walking through fire while everyone else danced through confetti.
"Yo, Raj!"
Peter jogged up to him, backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to keep pace. Raj didn't slow down.
Peter noticed. "Still brooding? That's your third day in a row of Batman-ing your way to school."
Raj glanced at him. "I'd rather Batman than be caught glowing like a Christmas tree again."
Peter chuckled nervously, but his face stayed serious. "Last night was real."
Raj stopped in the middle of the hall. "We were baited, Peter. A trap. Set by someone who's been watching me for days—maybe weeks."
"Monica," Peter muttered.
Raj nodded. "And that name shouldn't mean anything to you, but it does. That bothers me."
Peter hesitated. "Okay, you're right. Look… I didn't say anything earlier because I wasn't sure. But I've heard her name before. Once. From a guy in a red suit who swings a lot."
Raj raised an eyebrow. "You've met Daredevil?"
Peter ignored the sarcasm. "He warned me once, offhand, that Stark's been building… something. Some kind of surveillance network for powered individuals. And Monica? She was the recruiter."
Raj stared at him. "You never thought to mention this?"
Peter scratched his neck, guilt in his expression. "It sounded like gossip. Suspicious. But now?"
Raj turned, voice quieter. "Now we're inside it."
They moved toward their lockers, slipping into the side corridor where no one really cared what happened as long as it didn't involve fire or explosions.
Raj opened his locker slowly. "She knew my powers before I did. Remember that? Her warning wasn't out of concern—it was a control move."
Peter nodded. "And the trap last night?"
"Was her second move."
Peter leaned against the wall, tension running through his arms. "So, what do we do now?"
Raj pulled out his notebook—now less a diary, more a war log—and showed Peter a page.
It was filled with timelines.
"She's not just watching me," Raj said. "She's testing how far I'll go before I break. Before I burn something down."
Peter frowned. "That's… dark."
"Welcome to my head," Raj replied dryly.
Peter exhaled. "Look, I've had my share of spies, agents, suits in sunglasses. You know how I survived?"
"By being Spider-Man."
"No." Peter looked at him, expression steady. "By picking my team before someone else picked it for me."
Raj's eyes flicked to the lockers across the hall, then back. "You think we're a team?"
"Dude, we're like a prequel version of the Superheroes."
Raj smirked faintly. "Without the budget."
They stood in silence for a moment until Peter asked, "What about Monica?"
Raj's eyes hardened. "We find out what she wants. And we make sure it's not me."
A bell rang, jarring the mood back to high school reality. Students began funneling toward classrooms.
Peter slung his backpack fully over his shoulder. "Lunch break. Rooftop. We plan."
Raj nodded, slipping the notebook back into his bag. "Don't bring pizza this time. It makes me feel too human."
Peter gave a half-laugh. "Fine. We'll bring war maps and paranoia instead. Much more balanced."
As they parted ways, Raj looked back once.
Peter was still watching him.
Later that day — Rooftop
The sky was overcast.
Raj and Peter sat near the edge, knees bent, facing the city. A cool breeze fluttered Peter's hair, and Raj's hoodie rippled slightly in the wind. Between them, a sketchbook lay open. Not a diary this time—this one was filled with observations: names, movements, theories.
Peter tapped one entry. "Monica. Age 30. Eyes: sharp. Demeanor: military. Affiliations: uncertain."
Raj nodded. "She's not just watching. She's cataloging."
"And she's not S.H.I.E.L.D.," Peter added. "At least, not the one I've read about."
Raj raised an eyebrow. "You read S.H.I.E.L.D. manuals?"
"I google strange things when I can't sleep, okay?"
Raj leaned back on his palms, eyes following a distant flock of birds. "If she's not with S.H.I.E.L.D., and not fully Stark-approved either, what does that make her?"
"Private agent?" Peter guessed. "Freelancer with access to tech?"
"Or worse," Raj said. "A prototype."
Peter blinked. "Come again?"
Raj didn't elaborate. Instead, he said, "Someone who's being tested just like me—but with different tools."
Peter stared at him. "You think she's... another experiment?"
"Wouldn't be the first time Stark Industries dabbled in something risky."
Peter didn't argue.
Suddenly, Raj stiffened.
Peter noticed. "What is it?"
Raj stood slowly. "We're being watched."
Peter followed his gaze—across the street, on a nearby rooftop, stood a figure. Hooded. Motionless.
Not Monica.
Someone new.
Then, the figure turned and walked away.
Peter moved to leap off the edge, but Raj held him back.
"No," Raj said. "Let them leave. Let them think we're still guessing."
Peter frowned. "You sure?"
Raj nodded. "They're not just tracking us anymore. They're waiting for us to make a move."
"And what do we do?"
Raj stared at the empty rooftop across the way. "We give them one."