The sky was still a canvas of soft indigo, the stars clinging stubbornly to the last hours of night. Streetlamps buzzed above empty sidewalks, and the world hadn't fully stirred yet. It was 4:10 a.m., the kind of hour where New York City yawned instead of roared.
Raj stood on the edge of the quiet suburban street, his hoodie zipped all the way up, hands tucked in the pockets. His golden-red suit lay snug beneath—reinforced, patched, stitched with pieces salvaged from scrapyards and stitched into something that finally felt like his. His sneakers were worn, not ideal for combat, but perfect for blending in. He didn't want to make a scene. Not yet.
Beside him, Peter leaned against the bus stop signpost, yawning into the crook of his arm. He wore black jeans and a red hoodie layered over his suit, his mask tucked somewhere between his math textbook and a spare web cartridge in the backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder.
"Remind me again," Peter murmured, "why we're taking the bus to go break into a highly dangerous hidden base run by literal neo-Nazi science terrorists?"
"Because flying Uber wasn't in our budget," Raj replied, deadpan. "Also, stealth."
Peter grunted. "Stealth. Right."
The first bus of the morning rolled up with a hiss of brakes and a low growl of old machinery. Its interior lights flickered to life like they were surprised to be awake. The driver, an older man with a beanie and a thermos in hand, gave them a tired glance as they stepped on.
Peter tapped his MetroCard. Raj followed, offering a faint nod. They took seats near the back, slumping into place as the bus hissed forward into the sleeping city.
For a few blocks, they didn't say anything. The only sound was the shuffle of newspapers, the occasional yawn of a fellow passenger, and the low rumble of tires on asphalt.
Raj stared out the window, watching the landscape change—the homes fade into streets, streets into avenues, storefronts giving way to blinking signs and early workers on coffee runs. A part of him wanted to capture this moment. Not because it was dramatic. But because it was normal. Fleeting.
Peter tilted his head slightly. "You alright?"
Raj didn't answer right away. Then he said, "I've been thinking about how fast things changed."
Peter blinked. "You mean the whole… powers, explosions, Hydra thing?"
Raj smirked faintly. "Yeah. All of that. One day I was trying to figure out school schedules, and the next, I'm dodging solar mutants and planning a raid on a criminal syndicate."
Peter gave a dry laugh. "You get used to it. Kind of. Sort of."
They sat in silence again, the joke dissipating into the humming city around them.
Raj's voice lowered. "This is the part no one tells you about. What it's like to be scared before doing something big. What it's like to feel everything in your chest shaking… but still doing it anyway."
Peter didn't laugh this time. "Yeah. That's the part no one shows. They just show the swing. The punch. The win."
"I haven't even faced the worst yet, and I already feel like I'm cracking," Raj murmured. "Like I'm being stretched thin by something I can't even see."
Peter nodded, quiet. "Welcome to the club."
The bus turned sharply, the skyline shifting as the sun's earliest rays began slicing between buildings. A few golden beams spilled into the windows, brushing across Raj's hoodie, catching faint glints beneath the fabric. He flinched slightly, trying to shift away from the sunlight like it itched.
Peter noticed. "Still hurts?"
"No," Raj said. "But it's like pressure building up. Like the longer I'm exposed, the more my body's bracing for a fight it hasn't even seen yet."
Peter looked down at his hands. "You ever think maybe that's your power trying to prepare you?"
"Maybe. Or maybe it's just warning me."
The bus rolled into Midtown proper, the streets starting to wake with the buzz of morning. Their stop was coming up soon—three blocks away from the address Ned had found on the encrypted map. An industrial building near the docks. No company name. No signage. Just steel and silence.
Peter checked the time. "We good?"
Raj nodded. "Yeah. Let's go do this."
They stood, pulling their hoods tighter as the bus wheezed to a stop.
They stepped off onto the sidewalk. The air was crisp, biting at their faces. The streets here weren't as lively. This was the kind of place people passed through—not lingered in.
Peter adjusted his backpack and gave Raj a sidelong glance. "You think we're ready?"
Raj looked ahead, the rising sun casting long shadows from the buildings ahead. His heart was pounding, but there was no turning back.
"We have to be."
And together, they walked into the dawn. Toward danger. Toward the truth.
Toward whatever came next.