The locker note had been simple.
Tonight. 7 PM. Bring the spider.
Raj had stared at the message for a long moment after finding it tucked beneath his biology textbook. It was the same paper, same tight, mechanical handwriting as before. He hadn't told Peter immediately. Not until after lunch, when the feeling of being watched returned with its now-familiar static in the back of his skull.
Now, standing at the edge of a forgotten gas station parking lot, he was starting to regret listening to it.
The lot was half-crumbled, with cracks running like veins through the concrete. A rusted "QuickFuel" sign hung sideways from its frame, and the sunset spilled orange light over the peeling paint. The street behind them was quiet. Too quiet.
Peter stood beside him, mask off, but tense, one hand already brushing his backpack zipper where his suit lay hidden. "This doesn't scream 'friendly chat,' you know."
Raj didn't reply. His eyes were scanning for surveillance drones, hidden microphones, whatever Monica's people might use. Nothing obvious. But his skin still prickled with sunlight-fed energy, as if warning him something was off.
Then she stepped out from behind a black SUV.
Monica.
Same sleek black jacket, dark jeans, hair tied back tight. Her presence was like gravity—quiet, sharp, and unflinching.
"Gentlemen," she said, walking toward them like she had all the time in the world. "I appreciate your punctuality."
Peter tensed. "You've been leaving creepy notes in lockers and spying on us. We're not here for compliments."
Monica barely looked at him. Her eyes were on Raj. "It's not spying if you light up like a dying star in a school cafeteria. That kind of spectacle tends to attract attention."
Raj's mouth tightened. "You left that note. You watched the rooftop. You set the trap behind the basketball court."
"I monitored the trap," she corrected. "I didn't design it."
"Who did?"
She ignored the question and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out something small and black. Not a weapon—a flash drive. She tossed it underhand toward Raj.
He caught it reflexively.
"What's this?"
"Project R-9," she said, her voice crisp. "Codename: Solar Signature."
Raj blinked. "You've been calling me that?"
"No. Someone higher up did. I'm just delivering the message."
Peter leaned over Raj's shoulder, squinting at the flash drive like it might explode. "This is messed up. You're classifying people now?"
"Tiers, actually," Monica said. "Based on threat potential. Speed of evolution. Level of control."
"And Raj is what?" Raj asked, quietly.
Monica met his eyes. "Tier 3. Not because of what you've done. But because of what you might become."
The parking lot suddenly felt smaller. The air, heavier.
Peter stepped forward. "So what, you want to recruit him? Arrest him? What's the point of this meeting?"
"I'm not here to recruit," she replied. "I'm here to warn you. You're not the only ones asking questions. Stark Industries is curious, sure. But they're not the only ones watching you now. You lit up a scanner grid from three blocks away."
She stepped closer, her boots crunching softly on broken concrete. "You're glowing, Raj. Whether you want to or not. And predators follow light."
Raj looked down at the flash drive in his palm. It felt heavier than it should've.
"What's on it?" he asked.
"Scans. Reports. Hypotheses. They've mapped your energy patterns since the cafeteria incident. Drones caught your rooftop training session. You're in the system now."
Peter shook his head. "This is insane. You people have cameras everywhere?"
Monica gave him a dry look. "You think you're the only one who climbs rooftops at night?"
She turned back to Raj. "You need to read that file. Understand what they see when they look at you. Because if you don't define yourself soon, someone else will."
Raj narrowed his eyes. "Why tell me this? Why not just lock me up or keep watching?"
Monica's lips pressed into a hard line. "Because you haven't done anything wrong. Yet."
"Yet," Peter repeated, scoffing. "Wow. Real comforting."
She ignored him. "This is a courtesy. A final one. After this, I'm no longer your contact."
Peter took a step forward, voice rising. "So what, you're just going to disappear again? Leave us wondering what's next?"
Monica looked at him, calm as still water. "There's always a next. Whether I'm there or not."
She turned away, walking back toward the SUV. "The flash drive self-erases in twelve hours. Make good use of it."
"Wait—" Raj called after her. "What is Project R-9, really?"
Monica paused with her hand on the SUV's door. She didn't turn around.
"It's a contingency file," she said. "In case something like you ever woke up under our sun."
With that, she stepped into the vehicle, the door shut soundlessly, and the engine purred to life.
Raj and Peter stood in silence as the SUV pulled out and disappeared into the dying light.
A long moment passed. Only the buzz of a streetlamp flickering overhead filled the quiet.
Raj turned the flash drive over in his fingers, eyes unreadable. "Project R-9," he said softly.
Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Dude… this is getting bigger than either of us."
Raj didn't answer. He was staring at the sky.
"What is it?" Peter asked.
Raj squinted. "You hear that?"
A low, distant hum echoed through the air—mechanical and unfamiliar. They both looked up.
Something passed overhead. Fast. Sleek. Too quiet to be a plane. Too precise to be a bird.
Peter's voice dropped to a whisper. "That wasn't one of ours."
Raj's grip on the flash drive tightened. "No. It wasn't."
The sun dipped below the horizon. And whatever warmth it left behind felt like a lie.