The garage was alive with the heartbeat of machinery — a low hum of life and labor. Dust motes hung in shafts of gold afternoon light as Raze wiped a streak of oil from his cheek, leaning over the open hood of an old V8 block stripped nearly bare. The scent of gasoline clung to the air like smoke after a battle. He'd been working since morning, his hands blackened and raw, but his eyes sharp — fixated on the next problem waiting to be solved.
Across the garage, the door creaked open, letting in a slant of sunlight and the familiar scrape of sneakers.
"Still in here talking to your machines, huh?" Nick leaned against the doorframe, a baseball cap shoved backward on his head, grin half-teasing. "You know there's a world outside this grease pit."
Raze didn't look up, just muttered, "The world out there doesn't make sense. This one does."
Nick chuckled and stepped in, looking over the parts scattered across the table. "You ever think maybe you're overcomplicating this? You could just fix up a car like a normal guy."
"I could," Raze said, glancing up with a small, sly grin. "But normal's boring. What I'm building… it'll learn."
Nick frowned, intrigued despite himself. "Learn? Like a robot car?"
"Not a robot," Raze said, his voice lowering with that spark of passion that always made him sound older than he was. "A neural-adaptive drive system. The vehicle will analyze terrain, road conditions, wear and tear — even how the driver reacts. Over time, it'll fine-tune itself for performance."
Nick's grin widened. "So… you're building a car that'll get smarter the more you drive it."
Raze shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though there was pride in his eyes. "Something like that."
Nick crossed his arms, watching his cousin work. The rhythmic clink of metal on metal filled the silence. "You know," he said finally, "my dad used to do this kind of thing. Rebuild old engines in the driveway until Mom yelled at him for oiling up the concrete. Guess it runs in the family."
That got Raze's attention. "Kelly never mentioned that."
"She doesn't like talking about him much." Nick's expression softened — that mix of memory and ache he never quite talked about. Then, he grinned again, breaking the heaviness. "So, you're building a smart car. I say we make it interesting. Two cars. One brain."
Raze straightened, suspicious but amused. "What's your angle?"
"You handle the tech and design. I handle the body and metalwork. Dual project — one for each of us. You want innovation, I want horsepower. Let's build something no one forgets."
Raze smirked. "Deal. But when mine leaves yours in the dust, don't cry about it."
Nick held out his hand. "We'll see, Einstein."
They shook on it, grease and sweat sealing a pact that would shape far more than either realized.
---
By the time Monday rolled around, Raze was buried in shop class, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The instructor, a mountain of a man with forearms like steel beams, hovered behind him.
"Jackson," he said, voice rough with years of cigarettes and sarcasm, "if you're serious about this neural engine idea, I'll allow it as your senior project. But it's gotta run, not just exist in that overclocked brain of yours. Understood?"
Raze looked up, wiping sweat from his brow. "Understood, sir."
"Good," the teacher said, tapping the hood with a wrench. "Impress me, and you'll have colleges fighting for you."
When the teacher walked off, Raze pulled a small prototype chip from his pocket. On it, etched in fine silver print, were the words: NOVA-X/1. He ran a thumb over it and smiled faintly.
"Looks like it's your time," he murmured.
---
Elsewhere, in the school courtyard, the morning was alive with the chatter of students and the smell of cafeteria coffee. Nick sat on a low concrete wall, bat bag beside him. Mara stood nearby, arms crossed, her tone sharp but her eyes worried.
"Nick, I'm telling you, he's not taking no for an answer."
Nick frowned, trying to keep his voice even. "You mean Jason? The shortstop?"
Mara nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He's been showing up everywhere. Practice, the parking lot, even outside my chem lab yesterday. I told him to stop."
Nick's jaw tightened. "And I already told him once. Guess he didn't listen."
"I don't want a fight," Mara said softly. "I just want him gone."
Nick looked at her for a long moment, the protectiveness in his chest a tangible thing. "I'll handle it. Calmly. I promise."
She sighed but smiled a little. "You sound like your aunt."
That made Nick chuckle. "Yeah, she's rubbing off on me. Guess all that Grimm discipline is contagious."
They walked off toward the gym, hands brushing but never quite holding. Behind them, someone watched — too still, too silent.
Jason q leaned against a tree, his eyes cold. For a fleeting instant, they shimmered gold. His pupils narrowed into thin slits, and something shifted beneath his skin — muscles coiling, bones flexing.
When he exhaled, the air hissed faintly between teeth that were just a shade too sharp.
---
That evening, miles away, rain whispered against the apartment windows. Marie sat at her desk, the glow from her laptop painting her face in pale light. A soft hum came from the webcam as she clicked Record.
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"Anton. Kelly. If you're watching this, it means I've finally stopped pretending everything's fine."
She paused, steadying herself. "The diagnosis came back this morning. Carcinoma. Early stage. Manageable, but… I'll need to step back from Council work. Just for a while."
Her voice caught, but she pressed on. "Anton, don't even think about flying out here. I know you. Stay where you are, finish what you're doing. Come summer, we'll figure things out."
Her gaze flicked toward the framed photo on the shelf — two boys with her between them, both laughing, both unaware of the worlds she'd fought to keep hidden. "They're doing well. Raze is… finding himself. Nick's steadying him, even if he doesn't realize it. They make me proud, both of them."
The light blinked red as the recording saved. She exhaled, rubbing her temple. Then she opened an encrypted terminal, her fingers flying across the keys. Layered proxy tunnels came online — silent, invisible threads of defiance against the Council's watchful eyes.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "If something's moving in Portland again… I'll find it. Before it finds them."
Outside, thunder rolled.
---
Later that night, the garage lights flickered to life again. Raze sat cross-legged on the floor, pieces of his phone scattered beside his laptop. The holographic projection of Nova flickered to life, her soft blue glow bathing the walls.
"All right, Nova," he said, voice low but excited. "Integration test. Let's see if this works."
Nova's tone was sharp but playful. "Initializing synthetic core. Warning: this configuration has a forty-two percent chance of catastrophic failure."
He smirked. "Good odds."
A spark leapt from the table as he bridged the final connection. The laptop's fan screamed for a moment, then went silent. Nova's projection stabilized — sharper, more defined, her voice warmer.
"System calibration complete," she said, her tone almost proud. "Mobile platform linked. Would you like to designate a name for this device?"
Raze leaned back, exhausted but smiling. "Nova will do."
"Designation confirmed," she replied. Then, softer, almost human: "Hello, Raze Antares C. Jackson. Shall we begin?"
He exhaled, eyes flicking toward the window where rain still fell against glass. "Yeah," he murmured. "Let's begin."
Outside, something unseen moved in the dark — watching the house from beyond the streetlight's reach.
---
Three Months Later
Spring arrived in color and sound — the hum of cicadas mixing with the rhythmic clang of tools and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the open garage.
Raze stood beside a stripped-down Hummer H3, its frame raised on supports. Wires ran like veins across the interior, connecting new systems, sensors, and processors. The console screen blinked with data — lines of Nova's diagnostics scrolling faster than the eye could track.
Across the garage, Nick's '79 Challenger gleamed under fluorescent lights, its deep gunmetal body polished to perfection. The hood was open, the smell of burning metal and oil thick in the air as Nick adjusted the carburetor with practiced ease.
"Hey, Raze," Nick called over the music. "Your AI just told me my torque ratio's off."
"She's not wrong," Raze said without looking up. "You're two degrees off alignment."
Nick laughed. "You know, for a guy who never leaves the lab, you sure know how to boss me around."
"I prefer the term 'guiding genius.'"
"Yeah, I'll call you that right after she stops calling me 'Subject Beta.'"
Nova's voice cut in through the speaker system. "Correction: you are designated Beta Driver Prototype. I find the label appropriate."
Nick pointed a wrench at the ceiling. "You and I are gonna have words, lady."
Raze smirked, checking the wiring under his console. "She likes you. That's her version of affection."
"Yeah? Remind me to never date an AI."
"Too late," Raze muttered.
They both laughed, the sound echoing off steel walls and into the afternoon air.
For a moment, the world was quiet — peaceful — as the two cousins worked side by side, the hum of engines mixing with Nova's faint digital whisper.
Neither noticed the way the streetlight outside flickered for a second too long. Or how Nova's interface paused — just once — as if listening to something no one else could hear.
Then the moment passed, replaced by the clatter of tools and the low murmur of music.
Inside that small garage, two machines — and two boys — were becoming something more.
And somewhere beneath the surface of Nova's code, a soft voice whispered from the network:
> "Observation complete. Threat proximity increasing. Awaiting directive…"
The engines rumbled to life — first one, then the other — their synchronized roar drowning out the whisper of danger waiting just beyond the next sunrise.
---