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Chapter Text

Part 1

Henry Hart darted down the narrow alley, his boots splashing through shallow puddles. The city lights above were dim, blurred by a fine mist settling over the streets. Charlotte and Jasper trailed behind him, the wheels of Jasper’s suitcase scraping loudly over the uneven ground.

“Could you be any louder?” Henry hissed over his shoulder, his breath visible in the chilly night air.

“Well, sorry for not packing light!” Jasper shot back. “Not all of us are pros at this whole ‘on-the-run’ thing.”

“But that didn’t mean you had to pack half your room,” Henry said, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Jasper rolled his eyes, struggling to keep his footing. “Excuse me for wanting to have options. You never know when you’ll need–”

“Would both of you shut up?” Charlotte cut in, her sharp voice slicing through their bickering. She glanced back, her eyes scanning the alley for any sign of pursuers. The shadows loomed long and still, but her instincts had been honed too sharply to relax.  “Let’s get out of this alley before we stop to talk.”

Henry nodded, his expression tense, and veered left without missing a beat. He picked up his pace as the alley opened into a deserted construction site. The skeletal frame of a half-finished building loomed overhead, its steel beams disappearing into the haze above. The faint drip of rain echoed in the quiet, mixing with the hum of the city beyond.

Charlotte and Jasper followed suit, their breaths coming hard and fast from the pace.

“Henry, slow down!” Charlotte’s voice was sharp as she sped up, her boots splashing through muddy puddles. She caught up to him, grabbing his arm. “What’s going on? What did Piper say?”

Henry didn’t respond right away, his jaw tight as the words replayed in his head: I think I have powers, Henry. The tremor in Piper’s voice, the raw fear—it twisted something inside of him. Powers. Powers she didn’t understand. Powers that started after her visit to Dystopia.

“Henry?” Jasper said, concern in his voice. “You’re scaring us. What happened with Piper?”

Henry came to an abrupt halt beneath the sagging edge of a tarp, forcing them all to stop. He leaned against a steel beam, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. The call with Piper had unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.  Piper—his sister—was in potential danger, and he couldn’t help her. Not now, not the way he needed to. He exhaled slowly, trying to push down the panic that gnawed at him.

“She has powers,” he said finally, the words heavy and uncertain.

For a moment, neither Charlotte nor Jasper said anything, the quiet weight of his statement settling over them.

“Powers?” Charlotte repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “What kind of powers?”

Henry straightened, running a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t know. She said it started a few weeks ago, after she went home from visiting here. First, it was just this weird buzzing in her hands, like static. But tonight... something happened. She blacked out her entire campus.”

Jasper blinked, his usual absurdity nowhere to be found. “She what?”

“She thinks it was her,” Henry continued, his voice tight. “She doesn’t know how, or why. She’s terrified.”

Charlotte crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful but worried. “Electrical powers, maybe? But how—”

“She was fine before she came here,” Henry interrupted, his frustration breaking through. “It has to be connected to this place. To Dystopia. Something she was exposed to while she was visiting.”

“Wait,” Jasper interrupted, holding up a hand. “You let Piper come to Dystopia? Dystopia? The city that’s basically a real-life video game level of ‘bad idea’?”

Henry’s face tightened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t let her do anything. She showed up, Jasper. Said she wanted to check on me, to make sure I was okay. She was here for a day. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Jasper looked troubled. “It’s always a big deal when Piper’s involved,” he muttered, pacing now,

“You didn’t exactly try to keep her away,” Charlotte said gently, “You should have known better, Henry.”

“I know!” Henry snapped, turning to face her, his voice sharp. “I know it wasn’t safe for her to come here. I should’ve stopped her. But I didn’t, and now she’s dealing with something we have no control over.”

Charlotte put her hand on his shoulder. “Henry, calm down. We’re all in this together.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she connected the dots. “But… what if this is bigger than we think? What if whatever’s happening to her is tied to the stuff we’ve been uncovering here?

“I know it’s tied to this,” Henry admitted, his voice tight. “And I hate it. She wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if I’d—” He broke off, this throat constricting with emotion. “If I’d stopped her from coming here.”

“Hey,” Charlotte said softly, stepping closer. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Henry muttered. “She came here because of me. Because I’m her brother, and now she’s caught in something she doesn’t even understand. I can’t be there to help her. I can’t fix this.”

“It’s not your fault, Hen. You know what Piper’s like. Once she has an idea, she has to go through with it,” Jasper said. “So what did you tell her?”

Henry hesitated. “I told her to call Ray.”

“Wait, hold on—you told her to call Ray?” Jasper repeated, raising his eyebrow. “But isn’t he retired now?”

“Who else was I supposed to tell her to call?” Henry snapped, before immediately regretting his tone. He exhaled, dragging a hand through his rain-soaked hair. “We’re fugitives. We can’t do anything for her right now. But Ray can. And Schwoz. They have the technology and resources to figure it out.”

Charlotte pursed her lips, considering this. “I don’t know, Henry. It feels wrong, just… sending her off like that.”

“I can’t be there for her, Charlotte. None of us can,” Henry said, his voice hollow. “We’re on the run, and we can’t risk dragging her into this mess. If I go back to her, we’re all dead. I can’t afford to do that to her.”

Charlotte and Jasper exchanged uneasy glances.

“I get it, Hen. We all get it,” Charlotte said softly. “But what about Piper? What happens to her now?”

Henry clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “Ray has to take over. I don’t know how, but he has to. He’s the only person—beside the two of you—that I trust with my life. And I hope to God he can figure this out before it gets worse.”

Jasper stepped in between them. “But, what if Piper’s already in danger? What if someone noticed her? She’s been around us long enough to get caught up in all this.”

“Exactly,” Charlotte agreed. “We’ve made enemies, Henry. Piper’s your sister and our friend, she’s already tied to us, and she doesn’t even know what she’s dealing with.”

Henry felt a rush of guilt flood through him. He had failed his sister in ways he couldn’t even begin to fix. “I didn’t want this for her,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “But she’s in Florida, she’s alone, and there’s nothing I can do right now.”

“You’re right,” Jasper said. “She’s in Florida. We’re in Dystopia. And Ray’s in Swellview. We’re all scattered. It’s going to be difficult.”

Charlotte’s face tightened. “There’s always something we can do. We’ve survived this long, haven’t we?”

“We can’t help her directly,” Jasper said, his voice firm but laced with concern. “But we can keep an eye on her. We need to be careful, though. If anyone finds out she’s connected to us—”

“I know,” Henry said quickly. “We’re already trying to keep a low profile. If we make any moves that draw attention to us, it’ll be even worse for our families.”

The trio stood in silence for a moment, the rain continuing to pour around them, the distant rumble of thunder barely audible above the city’s noises.

Charlotte broke the silence first. “So, what’s the play, then?”

Henry hesitated, his mind racing with options that seemed more dangerous than the last. He couldn’t risk putting them all in danger. Not again.

“I’ll send a message to Ray, from a burner phone,” he said quietly. “I’ll use our secret code, so he knows it’s me. We need to make sure Piper’s safe, but we can’t put ourselves at risk. Not right now. This city needs us, even if it is under the radar.”

Jasper glanced over at Charlotte, who nodded, before turning back to Henry. “It’s the right call. For now, anyway.”

“We’ll stay out of sight,” Charlotte agreed. “But we need to figure this out. Ray and Schwoz may not be enough. We can’t let anything happen to your sister.”

Henry met her eyes, the weight of responsibility still pressing heavily on his chest. “I’ll handle it. But, for now, we keep moving, keep digging. If this is all connected – if Piper’s sudden powers have anything to do with this whole situation – we have to figure it out. Before it’s too late.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 1| The Accidental Blackout

Piper Hart sat at her desk, staring blankly at the pages of her textbook. The words blurred together, twisting into an indecipherable mess on the page. Finals were in full force, and the mounting pressure felt like it was crushing her from all sides. She’d thought law school would be a fresh start after the whirlwind of college, but lately, nothing felt right.

Her chest tightened as she leaned back in her chair, running her hands through her hair. Was it stress? The exams? The constant pressure to succeed? Maybe. She kept telling herself that. But there was something else too, something she couldn’t shake. A weird buzzing sensation had been building in her body for weeks, crawling under her skin like static electricity.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She grabbed it off the desk and glanced at the screen: James.

Her stomach twisted. They hadn’t spoken in a couple of days, and though she tried to convince herself it was nothing—he was busy, she was busy—an uneasy feeling had taken root in her chest.

“Hey,” she said as she answered, trying to keep her voice light.

“Hi, babe,” James replied, his voice calm but slightly distant.

“How’s work?” she asked, clutching the phone tightly as she leaned forward.

“Busy, as always,” he said. She could hear faint background noise—voices, the clatter of a keyboard—and imagined him at his sleek office downtown. James had graduated two years ahead of her, passed the bar with flying colors, and landed a position at a prestigious firm. He was living the dream she was still clawing her way toward.

“That big case you mentioned last time?” she asked. “How’s it going?”

“Still going,” he said, sighing. “It’s been long nights and early mornings all week. I barely have time to think.”

“Yeah, sounds rough,” Piper said, forcing a small laugh. “I get it, though. I’ve been buried in books nonstop.” She paused, then added, “Kind of feels like I haven’t heard from you much lately.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “Come on, Piper,” James said. “You know how busy I’ve been.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I miss talking to you. Lately, it feels like you’re a million miles away.”

His tone softened, but not in the way she’d hoped. “I’m still here, Piper. But we both have a lot going on right now. That’s life, right?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “Is it… me? Have I done something wrong?”

“What? No,” James said, sounding surprised. “It’s not about you. I just don’t have the energy for this conversation right now. I’ve got so much on my plate—”

“You think I don’t?” Piper interrupted, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I’m drowning here, James. Between finals and everything else, I feel like I’m losing my mind. And you—you don’t even seem to care!”

“That’s not fair,” James said, his voice cooling. “I’ve been doing my best to keep this going, but I can’t always be the one to drop everything. You know what it’s like to be under pressure, Piper. So cut me some slack, okay?”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. “Cut you some slack?” she repeated, her voice shaking. “I’ve been trying so hard to make this work, James. I’ve been bending over backward to keep up with school, my family, everything. And I need you. I need you to be here, and you’re just… not.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time for either of us,” James finally said, his voice low.

Her heart sank. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He sighed again, and she could hear the weariness in his voice. “I don’t know, Piper. Maybe we need to take a step back. At least until things calm down.”

Her grip on the phone tightened as her chest burned with a mix of anger and hurt. “Fine,” she said sharply. “Go back to your cases and your perfect life. Don’t let me distract you.”

“Piper—”

She hung up before he could finish, tossing the phone onto her desk with more force than she intended.

Her breathing was uneven, her hands trembling as the buzzing sensation inside her surged to life. Her emotions, already on edge, now felt like they were spilling over, too big to contain.

She stood up abruptly, pacing the small dorm room. Her thoughts whirled.

It wasn’t just James. It was everything. The stress of finals, the gnawing insecurity about her future, the weird static energy building in her body. And Henry.

God, she missed him. Henry had always been the brave one, the one who dove headfirst into chaos and came out stronger. He was in Dystopia now, busy saving the world, along with Charlotte and Jasper. Piper had spent years in their shadow, pretending it didn’t bother her. But it did. They were out there changing the world, while she was stuck here, barely keeping her head above water.

She clenched her fists, trying to fight the pressure rising inside her.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “It’s just stress. Just… finals.”

But the buzzing sensation wouldn’t stop. It spread through her hands, hot and unrelenting, until it felt like her entire body was vibrating.

“Not now,” she whispered, slamming her hands against her desk.

The energy inside her surged, and suddenly, a sharp burst of force exploded outward.

Her desk slammed against the wall, knocking over a stack of books. Her lamp shattered in a sharp spray of glass and sparks, and her phone skidded across the floor, colliding with the far wall. Piper flinched, throwing her arms up instinctively as chaos erupted around her.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over.

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum in her ears and the rapid thudding of her heartbeat. She stood frozen in place, staring at the destruction with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“What the–” Piper’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her gaze darted from the toppled desk to the scattered books and the broken lamp. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

Her hands trembled at her sides, a strange warmth still lingering in her fingertips. Slowly, she lifted them, palms up, staring as if they belonged to someone else. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “No way. That wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been.”

Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened. A faulty lamp? An electrical surge? Maybe a truck had passed by, shaking the building. Dorms weren’t exactly known for their sturdy construction, right?

She forced a laugh, dry and shaky. “It’s fine. Just some random… dorm stuff. Old wiring. Probably nothing.”

But her eyes drifted back to her hands, still faintly buzzing with that strange energy. She clenched them into fists, as if that could stop the sensation. “It’s nothing,” she said firmly, her voice louder this time, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

Her mind latched onto the simplest explanation: stress. Of course. She’d been pulling all-nighters, running on coffee and sheer determination. Her body was probably just… freaking out. Maybe it was some kind of adrenaline surge, like when people lifted cars in emergencies. Yeah. That made sense.

But even as she tried to reassure herself, doubt crept in.

Her thoughts flicked back to Henry, to the stories he’d told her about his powers—how they’d started as small, unexplainable things. How he hadn’t understood them at first, either. She remembered the way he’d always brushed it off, like it wasn’t a big deal, but there’d been a seriousness in his eyes that told a different story.

“No,” she said again, shaking her head as if to clear the thought. “This is different. I’m not like him. I’m just… stressed out. That’s all.”

Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the mess. The broken glass, the upturned furniture—it all seemed too much to ignore, but she refused to let her mind go there. There had to be a logical explanation.

She rubbed her temples, willing the tension in her body to ease. “Get a grip, Piper. You’re fine. This is fine.”

She stepped carefully through the chaos, picking up her phone from where it had landed. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. She stared at it for a moment, half-expecting James to call back, to ask why she’d hung up so suddenly. But the screen stayed dark.

Her stomach twisted with unease, and for a brief second, she considered calling Henry. He’d know what to say. He always did. But then the thought passed. What would she even tell him? That her lamp exploded and she got a little spooked? He’d laugh, tell her to relax, maybe remind her to eat something other than ramen for once.

She sighed, sinking onto the edge of her bed, careful to avoid the shards of glass on the floor. “It’s nothing,” she whispered one last time, clutching her phone tightly.

But as she sat there, the faint hum in the air lingered, a constant reminder that maybe—just maybe—things weren’t as simple as she wanted them to be.

A week went by with no other weird incidents.

The classroom door swung open, and Piper stepped into the hallway, feeling lighter than she had in ages. Finals were over, and for the first time in a while, she could finally take a breath. The tension in her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled to herself. She'd made it. Now, all that was left was to enjoy the moment.

As she turned the corner, she spotted James standing by the entrance, a bouquet of colorful flowers in his hand. Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected this—especially after their argument a few days ago. But here he was, waiting for her with a smile on his face that melted her worries away.

James grinned as he held the flowers out toward her. “I know you’ve been stressed about finals, so I thought this might help. You did great, Pipes. I’m proud of you.”

Piper beamed, her excitement bubbling over. She took the flowers and threw her arms around him, jumping into his embrace. "You’re the best, babe!" She held him tight for a moment, feeling the warmth of his embrace and letting herself enjoy this little bubble of happiness.

When she pulled back, she saw that his smile was genuine, and it gave her a sense of peace. The tension from their earlier disagreement seemed to have evaporated, replaced by the comfort of knowing they were okay again.

Together, they walked hand-in-hand through the campus. The warm afternoon sunbathed them in a soft golden glow, and for a second, everything felt right. Piper glanced down at the flowers in her hands, a soft smile curving her lips.

Then, just as they reached the steps leading out of the quad, Piper’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw the subject line: Congratulations! Welcome to Mason & Gillis Summer Internship Program.

Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her throat. Without hesitation, she opened the email. As she read through it, her smile grew wider and wider. She could barely contain her excitement as she looked up at James.

“I got it!” she exclaimed, holding the phone up so he could see the email. “I got the internship! Mason & Gillis! This could be it, James. This is huge!”

James’s face lit up, and he pulled her into a tight hug again, his voice warm and full of pride. “That’s amazing, Piper! You worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. She felt like she was walking on air. Her dreams were starting to take shape, and it was all falling into place. The internship was her first big step into the legal world, and it was all happening.

They stood there for a moment, sharing the excitement, but then Piper noticed James’s expression shift. His smile didn’t disappear, but it softened a little, and he pulled back slightly as if to create more distance between them. Piper frowned, unsure of the sudden shift.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, her brows furrowing with concern.

James cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” He paused, glancing at his watch. “It’s just... I won’t be able to make it to the party tonight. I’ve got some stuff to catch up on for work, and I need to get ahead.”

Piper blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Oh. Uh, okay.” She forced a smile, but her chest tightened with a strange, nagging feeling. “It’s no big deal. But I thought we’d go together. You know, celebrate a little?”

James’s eyes darted to the side. “I know. I just… I can’t tonight. It’s not a big deal. You go, enjoy it. Celebrate your win.”

The way he said it made her uneasy, like he was pulling away. She tried to brush it off, but the nagging feeling in the back of her mind wouldn't go away.

“Well,” Piper said, trying to keep the mood light, “I’m still gonna go. You deserve to celebrate too, James. We’ll figure out another time. I get it.”

James gave her a small, distracted smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. You should go have fun, okay? Call me when you get back.”

Piper nodded, though she couldn’t shake the strange sensation that something wasn’t quite right. She glanced down at the flowers in her hands and then up at James. Everything should have felt perfect in this moment—she had the internship she’d worked so hard for, and James was here, being supportive—but somehow, it didn’t feel as sweet as it should have.

As they made their way to their separate ways, Piper tried to push the doubts aside, focusing instead on the excitement of her achievement. She had so much to look forward to, and she couldn’t let anything, or anyone dull the shine of her moment. Even if she didn’t fully understand why James seemed so distant, she was determined to make this summer hers.

While she was getting ready for the party, she decided to video call her parents and share the exciting news.

The screen lit up, revealing her mom and dad sitting comfortably in their living room. Her mom’s hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her dad held a half-eaten sandwich in his hand.

“Piper!” her mom said, smiling wide. “How’d finals go?”

“Crushed them,” Piper said with a confident grin, feeling the familiar rush of pride. “And guess what? I just got an email—I got the summer internship at Mason & Gillis!”

Her dad dropped his sandwich onto his plate. “No way! The Mason & Gillis? That fancy law firm with the commercials that make it look like the courthouse is a wrestling ring?”

Piper laughed. “Yes, Dad. That Mason & Gillis.”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” her mom chimed in. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. I’m actually going to be in Swellview for the summer since the internship’s based there. So I’ll get to stay at home!”

Her mom’s eyes lit up. “You’re coming home? Oh, that’s wonderful! I’ll make up your room, and I can start planning dinners. What do you want for your first night back? Lobster balls? Faux-fu? Lasagna?”

“Mom, I just told you about the internship, and you’re already planning meals?” Piper said, laughing. “I haven’t even booked my flight yet.”

“I’m just excited,” her mom said, brushing it off. “It’s not every day we get to have one of our kids back at home with us. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be busy with your fancy internship. But I’ll still make sure you don’t go hungry.”

“Mom, I’m gonna be working at a law firm, not a five-star restaurant,” Piper teased. “But I’ll take the lobster balls. I’ve missed those.”

“Lobster balls it is!” her mom said, nodding triumphantly. “We’ll have a welcome-home feast, whether you like it or not.”

Piper chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s only for the summer,” she reminded her. “But yeah, I’m actually excited to be home.”

Her dad, having finally taken a bite of his sandwich, chimed in with a full mouth. “You better not expect us to wait on you hand and foot. You’re a big-shot intern now. We’ve got high expectations.”

Piper grinned. “Sure, Dad. I’ll be sure to add ‘washing dishes’ to my list of legal experience. Right after ‘drafting contracts’ and ‘negotiating multi-million dollar deals.’”

Her dad laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep up with you. You might need a personal assistant now.”

Piper smirked. “I’m taking applications. But I don’t pay much.”

Her mom laughed, but then her expression softened. “Sweetheart, we’re so proud of you. And I know this has been a tough semester, but you’ve done an amazing job.”

Piper felt a warm flush spread through her chest. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate that.”

As the conversation continued, Piper felt a sense of warmth flood her, the stress of the past few months melting away. She couldn’t wait to get home, to spend the summer in Swellview, and to kickstart this new chapter in her life. She could almost hear the laughter and chaos of her family already.

But for now, she had to get going. “I better run. There’s a party tonight, and I’m meeting some classmates. But I’ll see you both soon, okay?”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” her dad said, giving her a wink. “Don’t stay out too late, though. Remember, you’re an intern now. Gotta look the part.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dad. Love you both. Talk soon!” With a final wave, Piper ended the call and set her phone down.

At the party, Piper found herself at the center of a heated conversation near the bar.  Though she was still under the drinking age – just a few months shy of turning twenty-one – she still indulged in drinks here and there. Most of her classmates at law school were much older than her, but that didn’t stop them from buying her drinks when she wanted one. As a law student and aspiring attorney-to-be, the irony wasn’t lost on her.

She sipped some champagne as she stood with a group of her classmates. Logan, one of her boyfriend’s closest friends, was holding court about a recent case in the news.

“You can’t just let criminals off the hook because they made one mistake,” Logan said with an air of superiority. “There’s accountability in the system. Punishment exists for a reason. If people aren’t held accountable, what’s stopping them from doing it again?”

Piper crossed her arms, not passing up on the opportunity to share her unfiltered thoughts. “I get what you’re saying, Logan, but punishment isn’t the solution. If you just lock people up and throw away the key, you’re missing the point. The whole system is flawed.” She shook her head. “It’s about rehabilitation. People make mistakes. They deserve a chance to prove they can change, not just be punished for something they did when they were younger.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “So you think criminals should get a free pass because they’ve been through some hard times? That’s just naïve, Piper. Some people deserve to be punished for the harm they cause. Accountability is key. People shouldn’t just be given a slap on the wrist and sent back into society to do it all over again.”

Piper’s pulse quickened. She hated being dismissed like this, especially by someone who thought his age and experience gave him the moral high ground.

“I’m not saying people shouldn’t face consequences,” she shot back. “But when we only punish and don’t provide real help, we’re just setting them up for failure. How is that justice?”

Logan snorted, clearly not taking her seriously. “It’s cute how idealistic you are, but you’ll get it when you’re older. The real world isn’t about second chances for everyone who’s made a mistake. Some people just can’t be saved.”

Her temper flared at his constant digs about her age. She had every right to be there just as much as he did. She worked hard enough and got into the programme. Her age was insignificant.

“So what, you just throw them away and forget about them? Is that your idea of justice? We’re supposed to be better than that.”

The tingling sensation in her hands started again, faint at first, like the buzz of static electricity. It was almost imperceptible, but it felt different this time. More insistent. It was the second time she’d felt this way that week, but oddly enough it felt more intense than before. She flexed her fingers, trying to shake it off.

“You’re young,” Logan continued, his voice dripping with condescension. “You don’t understand how the world works yet. Give it time. Maybe you’ll learn that sometimes, people don’t deserve a second chance.”

Piper gritted her teeth, refusing to back down. The buzzing in her hands only grew louder, almost like an electric hum. Her chest tightened as she tried to push back against the growing frustration.

“I do understand. Maybe not in the same way as you do, but I understand that locking people up without offering a chance to change only keeps them trapped in the system.”

Her hands were starting to ache. The feelings surged up her arms, her fingertips almost vibrating with the pressure, and she didn’t know how to stop it. It was as if an invisible current was running through her, building with each word she said, with each argument she made.

“I’m not saying we let people off the hook,” Piper continued, her voice growing more pronounced over the hum of static. “But if you don’t give them a way to turn things around, what’s the point of any of it?”

She slammed her fist down on the table, suddenly unable to hold back.

BOOM!

The champagne fountain exploded. Liquid splattered across the table and the floor, sending pieces of glass flying through the air. The lights flickered, buzzing loudly, then went dark for a split second, leaving only the sound of glass shattering and people gasping in shock. The hum in Piper’s hands was still there, but the room had gone eerily still. Then, a collective gasp echoed through the room, followed by a cacophony of voices.

“What the hell just happened?” someone shouted.

“Was that the pump malfunctioning?”

“Damn, that thing just blew up!”

Piper kept her head down, frozen in place, her heart hammering in her chest. The tingling in her hands hadn’t gone away; if anything, it was more intense, the buzzing now a persistent hum that made her fingers tremble. She wanted to scream, to deny the thought forming in her head, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. This was her fault.

“Man, they can’t even throw a party right,” Logan muttered, wiping champagne off his sleeve. He turned to Piper with an exasperated look. “Guess this is why they don’t let first-years plan these things.”

His words cut deeper than they should have. First-year, second-year, it didn’t matter—Logan always found a way to make her feel small, to remind her that she didn’t quite belong. Not here, and maybe not with James either.

James.

The thought of her boyfriend made her chest tighten further. He was supposed to be here with her but flaked as usual. Lately, it seemed he cared more about his work than he did about her, And then there was Logan—one of James’s closest friends, always ready with a snide remark or a patronizing grin, always quick to remind her how far she still had to go to measure up.

Piper could never tell if Logan genuinely disliked her or if it was just his way of testing her. Either way, every word out of his mouth seemed like a subtle jab at her insecurities, a reminder that she was the youngest in the room, the least experienced, and maybe, just maybe, not good enough for James.

She clenched her jaw, trying to shove the thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time or place. But it was hard not to feel like Logan’s attitude mirrored some unspoken truth James might be too kind—or too polite—to voice. What if James thought the same things Logan said? That she was too young, too naïve, too idealistic? What if he was getting tired of waiting for her to grow up? To become the person she was supposed to be?

Her stomach churned. She felt like a fraud standing here, pretending to fit in, when everything inside her screamed that she didn’t. Not here. Not in law school. Not with James.

“Piper?” one of her classmates said, breaking through her spiraling thoughts. “You okay? You kind of zoned out there.”

She forced a smile and nodded, her voice wavering. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… that was crazy, right?” She gestured vaguely toward the fountain, now a sad, broken mess.

“Seriously,” another chimed in. “That thing was way overdue for a malfunction. I mean, who still uses those old champagne fountains? This place is lucky the whole bar didn’t catch fire.”

“That’s what happens when you cheap out on rentals,” someone else added, shrugging. “At least no one got hurt.”

Piper exhaled slowly, relief washing over her that no one suspected her. She tried to focus on the conversation around her, but the lingering hum in her hands kept pulling her back to the same terrifying thought: this wasn’t a coincidence.

Logan shook his blond head, laughing. “Guess this party’s as well put together as some people’s arguments.” His eyes flicked toward Piper, the implication clear.

Her face burned, but she refused to let him see how much he’d rattled her. “Well, at least the champagne was decent,” she shot back, downing the last of her drink with a forced grin. “Even if the fountain couldn’t keep up.”

Logan smirked, leaning casually against the bar. “Decent champagne, huh? Guess you’re easier to impress than I thought. Maybe next time, I’ll just pop open a juice box for you.”

Piper rolled her eyes, already regretting engaging. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Connoisseur. Should we have imported something straight from the vineyards of France to suit your refined palate?”

Logan chuckled, tipping his glass toward her. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to talk a big game about changing the world, you might want to start with your taste in drinks. You’re not exactly screaming ‘future power attorney’ over there.”

Piper raised an eyebrow, her voice cool. “And what exactly do you scream, Logan? ‘Guy who peaked in moot court’?”

The group around them let out a collective “ooh,” and Logan’s smirk faltered for half a second before he recovered. “Nice one, Hart. But don’t forget—I’ve got a year on you, and that year is going to make all the difference when it’s our names on the firm’s shortlist.”

Piper crossed her arms, refusing to back down. “You’re right, Logie,” she said, using the nickname he hated. “You do have a year on me. A whole year of honing that ‘talk loud and hope no one notices you’re bluffing’ strategy.”

The laughter around them grew louder, and Logan’s expression darkened, though he kept his composure. “Bluffing? Please. I’ve actually worked cases, Piper. Real ones. While you’re still cutting your teeth on theoreticals, I’m already out there, making connections, building a reputation. That’s the real difference between us.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed the difference,” Piper said, her tone slicing through the air. “One of us is trying to make a difference in the world, and the other one is trying to make themselves look good at parties.”

Another round of laughter rippled through the crowd, and Piper felt a small surge of satisfaction. But Logan wasn’t done yet.

“Careful, Hart,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make it personal. “That chip on your shoulder’s starting to show. Might want to get that under control before it scares off people who are actually on your side.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Piper said, forcing a smile. “Right after I figure out how to deal with people who think sarcasm counts as charisma.”

Logan leaned in slightly, his voice low but cutting. “You think the world cares about your excuses? That your lofty ideals are going to save anyone? Grow up, Hart. This isn’t undergrad. It’s not cute anymore.”

The words hit her like a slap, the insinuation twisting the knot of insecurity already lodged in her chest. She felt the energy in her hands spike, the tingling now more like a surge of power threatening to burst free. Her breathing quickened, and the lights in the room flickered once, then twice.

Logan noticed but ignored it, pressing on. “But hey,” he added with a smug grin, “maybe James likes that about you. Or maybe he’s just too polite to say otherwise.”

That was it. The last thread of her control snapped.

The buzz exploded into a deafening hum, and every light in the building went out in an instant. The music cut off mid-beat, replaced by startled gasps and confused murmurs.

“Whoa! What just happened?” someone exclaimed, their voice echoing in the sudden silence.

“Did the power grid fail?” another asked, fumbling for their phone flashlight.

Logan straightened, glancing around the now-dark room, but Piper could feel him shifting uncomfortably in her direction, though his words were steady. “Huh. Guess the campus budget’s as tight as your arguments, Hart,” he said with a forced laugh, clearly trying to mask his own unease.

Piper barely registered his words. Her heart was pounding, her hands trembling as the remnants of the buzzing sensation dissipated. She backed away, keeping her hands close to her sides, trying to steady her breathing.

This isn’t real. This can’t be me.

The murmurs grew louder, the crowd shifting in confusion and frustration, but no one seemed to suspect her.

“Looks like the power's gone out for the whole campus,” one of her classmates informed them, checking their phone.

“Let’s hope the beer kegs don't go down with the power,” someone joked, breaking the tension with nervous laughter.

Piper could hear Logan shifting his weight next to her, his voice quieter now, softer. “You know,” he said, almost casually, “I’m pretty sure you could’ve fixed that.” He didn’t sound accusing, just... something else. Something she couldn’t quite place. “Always figured you were capable of more than just arguing.”

Piper turned slightly, her gaze locking with his for a fleeting moment. There was something in his eyes—something that didn’t feel like just another jibe. Even in the dark, the flicker of a smile on his lips didn’t quite match the intensity in his gaze.

“Yeah, well,” she said, her tone sharper than she intended, “I’m not in the business of fixing your messes, Logan.”

He laughed lightly, but there was an odd edge to it, like he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood anymore. “I’m not asking you to, Hart. But hey, don’t think you’re fooling anyone. You’ve got more going for you than you let on.”

Piper’s chest tightened. She couldn’t let him get under her skin, not again. But the flicker of something in his voice—something more than just frustration—sent an odd chill down her spine.

The room was slowly coming back to life as the power flickered on again, but the brief moment of darkness had left something in the air. Something unresolved.

She couldn’t explain it, but the way Logan was looking at her—like there was something more he wanted to say but couldn’t—only made her more uncomfortable.

Trying to mask the wave of emotions crashing through her, Piper turned on her heel. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of people to impress. I’ll leave you to it.”

Logan’s voice called after her, a little too quiet for anyone else to hear, but with an underlying sincerity. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, Piper. But... I think you could use someone who actually gets it.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she pushed through the crowd, her heart still racing from the blackout and the unexpected tension between them.

As she made her way toward the door, she could still feel his eyes on her. The buzzing in her hands flared again, sharp and hot, pulling her back to the moment. She clenched her fists, trying to will it away. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t keep ignoring it. Something was happening to her—something she didn’t understand, something she couldn’t control. And no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, it wasn’t going away.

Her mind continued to race as she returned to her dorm room, her hands still trembling from the shockwave she had accidentally caused at the party. Her footsteps felt heavy, the hallway closing in on her, and the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead felt like it was drilling into her brain.

She shoved the door open and stumbled inside, leaning against it as it clicked shut. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms against her temples, the electric tingling in her hands refusing to fade.

This is happening. Something is happening to me.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She took a shaky breath, pushing away the rising panic. Her eyes darted to her desk, where a photo of her, Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper grinned back at her — a happier time, a simpler time. Her brother had to know what was going on. He had to.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over Henry’s contact. Part of her clung desperately to the hope that this was all just a fluke, a stress-induced hallucination. But deep down, she knew better.

She pressed the call button, the screen lighting up as the dial tone droned in her ear. Each ring felt like an eternity, twisting the knot in her stomach tighter and tighter. Just as she was about to hang up, it went to voicemail.

Her heart dropped. She clenched her jaw and redialed, this time using his emergency number.

It rang twice before Henry’s familiar voice picked up, sounding distracted and a little breathless. “Hey, Pipes! What’s up?”

Piper could hear faint noises in the background – voices, the sound of machinery, maybe a door slamming shut. It sounded like he was in a hurry, like he was on the move.

“Henry!” Piper’s voice was more frantic than she’d intended. “I… I need your help. Something’s happening to me. Something weird.”

There was a pause on the other end, a brief silence where she could almost hear his brain switching gears. When he spoke again, his tone was sharper, tinged with concern. “Whoa, slow down. Are you okay?”

Piper paced around her room, trying to collect her thoughts. She walked to her bed and sat down, her heart still pounding from the incident at the party.

“I’m not okay!” she admitted, using what was once her childhood catchphrase, which described her current feelings perfectly. “I think I… I think I have powers, Henry.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Piper’s heart pounded painfully in her chest as she waited for her brother to say something — anything — that would make this all make sense.

“Powers?” Henry’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Piper, are you sure you’re not—”

“I don’t know!” she interrupted, her voice tight. “I mean, I'm not imagining things. I don’t want to sound crazy, but… there’s something weird happening. There’s this… this buzzing in my hands, like static, and I can’t control it. I—I blacked out the whole campus tonight. It only lasted a few minutes, but… I know it was me.”

Another pause. She could hear Henry shifting, the faint sounds of movement in the background. It sounded like he was running, like he was escaping something. A door slammed, and when he spoke again, his voice was tense.

“You’re not crazy, Piper.” His words were low, serious. “It sounds like… it sounds like you really do have powers.”

Her breath caught. Hearing him say it out loud made the reality crash over her, cold and suffocating. “What’s wrong with me, Henry?” Her voice trembled, a crack in her bravado. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know,” Henry admitted, the guilt in his voice like a punch to her gut. “But it has to be connected to Dystopia. To this place. You were fine before you visited. Whatever’s happening… it started here.”

She sank onto her bed, clutching the phone so tightly it hurt. “You think it’s because of something in Dystopia?” Her voice wavered. “Henry, I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said softly, his own fear bleeding through. “I hate this. I hate that you’re caught up in this mess. But you need to stay calm, okay? Whatever this is, panicking will only make it worse.”

The line crackled with static, and she flinched, gripping the phone tighter. “Henry?” she called, panic flaring as his voice faded in and out. “Henry, what’s going on? Where are you?”

His voice came back, breathless and urgent. “I can’t explain right now, Pipes. Charlotte and Jasper are with me, and we’re… we’re on the run.”

Her stomach dropped. “On the run? From what?”

The static hissed louder. “It’s complicated. Too complicated to explain over the phone. But listen to me — you need help with this. You need to talk to Ray.”

“Ray?” she repeated, confusion and frustration colliding. “But he’s retired! What’s he going to do?”

“He’s the only one who can help,” Henry said, his voice firm. “He’s trained people before. He knows what it’s like to deal with powers. And Schwoz too. Between them, they’ll figure something out. You have to trust me on this.”

“But I don’t want Ray!” she burst out, her voice shaking. “I want you! I want my brother! Why can’t you just come back to Swellview for the summer?”

“I can’t,” he said, the anguish in his voice cutting deep. “If I come back, I’ll put you — and Mom and Dad — in even more danger. I can’t let that happen.”

Tears burned in her eyes. “But what if I can’t do this without you?”

“You can,” he insisted. “You’re stronger than you think, Piper. And I promise, I’ll come back as soon as I can. But for now… call Ray. Please.”

The static roared again, louder this time.

“Henry!” she shouted, desperation clawing at her. “Don’t hang up! Please!”

“I’m sorry, Pipes. I have to—”

The line went dead.

The silence that followed was crushing. Piper stared at her phone, her hands trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks. The room felt too small, the walls closing in, the electric buzz in her palms mocking her helplessness.

She let out a shaky breath and whispered to the empty room, “I can’t do this alone.”

She had no idea what to do next. He was right – things were complicated. But she couldn’t just sit here and wait for him to fix it. She needed answers now. And even though the thought made her nervous, it seemed like Ray – the one person who had seen everything Henry had been through – was her only option.

Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, her breath shaky. The last time she’d really talked to Ray was at Kid Danger’s funeral. The memory was bittersweet. She’d been part of the team that day, standing with them, mourning the loss of a hero — of her brother — even though Henry had survived.

Ray had hugged her then, his voice gruff but kind, telling her she was stronger than she knew. That moment made her feel like she belonged, like she was more than just Henry’s younger sister.

But that was years ago. And now, everything was different. She was different.

With a determined breath, she scrolled through her contacts and tapped on Ray’s number. The phone started to ring, and for a second, hope flickered in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, he’d pick up. Maybe everything would finally make sense.

But after a few rings, the line went dead, replaced by an automated voice:
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

Piper’s heart sank. She stared at the screen, disbelief washing over her. He must have changed his number. She’d thought that bond, that sense of being part of the team, would last forever. But maybe she’d been wrong.

But she couldn’t afford to wallow in disappointment. If Ray didn’t want to be found, that was too bad. She wasn’t the scared, bratty kid who used to throw tantrums when things didn’t go her way.

She was Piper Hart. And she was going to figure this out.

Her mind scrambled, trying to think of another way. Then it clicked.

Schwoz.

Piper immediately scrolled to his contact. They talked all the time—FaceTime, texts, even that one cursed spring break trip to Mexico where they both ended up banned from a zipline park and a karaoke bar. If anyone could track down Ray, it was him.

She hit call.

It rang once.

“PIPERRRRRRRRR!” Schwoz’s voice exploded through the speaker like a science fair caught on fire. “I was just thinking about you! Did you start learning German like we planned? Have you been eating at least two vegetables a day? Did the sonic toothbrush I mailed you explode or only vibrate suspiciously?”

“Schwoz,” Piper said gently, her voice wavering with warmth. “You’re literally the only person who still checks in on me like this.”

Schwoz’s voice softened immediately. “Of course I do, Pipes. You are… what do they call it? My ride or die.”

That made her smile for real. “I miss you.”

"I miss you too," he said, sincere for once. "You’ve been skipping your weekly updates, by the way. I thought we agreed on bi-weekly video chats!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Piper said, already feeling slightly more grounded. “It’s been chaos. Midterms, job stuff, boyfriend drama... 

“Ugh. Don’t get me started on James,” Schwoz groaned. “I still haven’t forgiven him for the timing of his video call where he interrupted our game of 'Guess That Chemical Reaction.'”

“You mean the game where you almost lit my dorm desk on fire?”

“Almost is a success in my book.”

Piper laughed—really laughed—for the first time in what felt like days. Schwoz always had that effect on her. No matter how bad things got, he somehow made the world feel just slightly less terrifying

"Focus, Schwoz," she said with a sigh. "I really need to talk to Ray. It's important."

Schwoz gasped so dramatically she imagined him physically clutching his chest. “Is this… about the thing? The thing we said we wouldn’t talk about unless the moon turned red and Jasper shaved his eyebrows?”

“It’s not that thing,” Piper said quickly, though she kind of wished it were. “It’s worse.”

All the silliness drained from his voice. “What happened?”

“I don’t know exactly. I talked to Henry earlier, but the call dropped and now he’s completely off the grid. And I… I think something happened to me, Schwoz. Something big.”

Another pause, then Schwoz replied gently, “Okay. I’ve got you.”

Piper’s throat tightened. Of course he did. He always did.

“But Ray—he’s impossible to reach,” she said. “Do you know where he is? His number doesn’t work.”

Schwoz exhaled loudly, a low mechanical whir humming in the background. “Of course I do. I keep tabs on him. It’s not stalking if it’s friendship and occasional surveillance.”

“Perfect. So what’s his new number?”

“Ah,” Schwoz said, voice suddenly sheepish. “No new number. Ray is… how do I say this… off the grid. Spiritually and literally. He retired.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Piper muttered. “But like, full-blown disappeared?”

“Pretty much. No social media. No base. No hotline. Just… Ray. Snacks. Streaming. And his girlfriend, Credenza.”

“Credenza?” Piper blinked. “Is that her real name or a code word?”

“It's her real name. It might also be a furniture pun. She threatened to punch me once and offered me lasagna in the same breath. I fear her. Ray loves her. I am deeply conflicted.”

“Okay,” Piper said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “So where are they now?”

“I’ll send the address,” Schwoz said, already tapping. “But just so you know… Ray’s been weird lately. Not dangerous weird. Just… emotionally constipated weird. Retirement doesn’t suit him. He pretends it does. But he misses punching things, and I think he built a nacho launcher out of boredom.”

“Oh good,” Piper muttered. “So he’s still Ray.”

“Still Ray,” Schwoz confirmed. “And Piper?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got your back. Always.”

She smiled faintly. “Thanks, Schwoz. For picking up. For not acting weird when I said it was about Henry. For just being… you.”

“Of course! You’re my favorite tiny chaos lawyer,” he said brightly. “Also, I might need legal advice one day. Just saying. Preemptive loyalty.”

“I’ll represent you,” Piper said. “Unless it’s for the pants incident. Then you’re on your own.”

“I REGRET NOTHING,” Schwoz yelled. Then his tone softened. “Be safe, ja? And if Ray throws a nacho at your head, remember to duck left. He’s right-handed.”

The line clicked off.

Piper lowered her phone and stared at the screen. So much for a normal week. Finals were going to be the least of her problems.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 | Return to Swellview

The plane ride over wasn’t too bad. Piper had downed enough sleeping pills to knock herself out for most of the flight, ensuring she’d avoid any weird mishaps caused by her powers. She woke up just as the plane began its descent, catching glimpses of the familiar streets of Swellview through the small window. It was strange to be back, bittersweet in a way—comforting, yet unfamiliar, like slipping on an old jacket that didn’t quite fit anymore.

By the time the plane touched down and came to a stop, she’d shaken off most of the grogginess. Piper grabbed her bag from the overhead compartment and stepped off the plane, the crisp Swellview air hitting her face as she exited the terminal.

The city hadn’t changed much. Its streets were lined with quirky little shops and old brick buildings, the kind of charm that felt almost frozen in time.

At the arrivals gate, her dad was already waiting for her with his usual goofy grin.

“There she is!” he called out as soon as he saw her, waving his arms as if she were a celebrity.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me already,” Piper muttered, rolling her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway.

Jake Hart, ever the enthusiast, ignored her and pulled her into a bear hug, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing. “I can’t believe my favourite daughter is finally home!”

“Dad! Put me down,” Piper groaned, laughing despite herself. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m your only daughter.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he shot back, squeezing her once more for good measure before setting her back on the ground. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if it made her cringe a little.

“Alright, alright. I’m just happy to see you!” he said, his eyes bright with excitement. “And now you’re gonna eat some chilli and hang out with your old man. C’mon, your mom and I have lunch waiting.”

“Secret ingredient chilli?” Piper teased, raising an eyebrow as she handed over her luggage.

“The very same!” he replied, puffing out his chest with mock pride. “Only the best chili in all of Swellview.”

“Uh-huh,” Piper said, stifling a laugh as she watched him struggle to lift her overstuffed bags. She made no move to help, crossing her arms as she watched him wrestle with the weight. “You got this, Dad. I believe in you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, huffing as he managed to hoist the luggage. “You’d think hitting the gym would come with some muscle…”

Piper smirked. “That’s what dads are for. Manual labor.”

Jake straightened, feigning offense. “You’re lucky I like you, kid. Let’s go.”

As they drove through the winding streets of Swellview, Piper felt the familiar weight of home settling over her. But it wasn’t the warmth of nostalgia that clung to her—it was something heavier, sharper, like an unspoken tension threading through her body. The electricity still hummed faintly beneath her skin, a constant reminder of the storm she carried within.

She tried to push it aside, focusing instead on her dad’s chatter. They touched on the usual topics: her upcoming internship, her mom’s inevitable plans for some absurdly elaborate family project, and the small-town gossip that her dad recounted with relish.

“So, let’s see… what have you missed?” He tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. “Oh! Trent and Tracy426 finally tied the knot. Massive ceremony, as you can imagine. Half the town showed up.”

“Shocking,” Piper replied dryly, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Swellview loved its over-the-top celebrations.

“Let’s see, what else… oh, ever since Captain Man retired, there’s a new group of superheroes in town now. Some kind of team, though no one really knows much about them yet. They call themselves… uh…” He snapped his fingers, trying to recall. “Danger Force, I think? Something like that.”

Piper stared out the window, her mind racing as she thought about Captain Man. She hadn’t thought much about Ray since both her and Henry left Swellview, but the idea of him stepping away felt surreal. He was as much a fixture of the city as the old clock tower downtown.

Jake didn’t seem to notice her quiet reaction, continuing his rundown of Swellview’s latest happenings. “And then there was that whole thing with the giant hot dog statue—you remember the one by Junk-N-Stuff? Well, the store is closed now, but anyway, someone tried to steal the statue again. Third time this year! Mayor says they’re installing a security camera now, but who knows if that’ll help.”

Piper nodded absently, her thoughts still on Ray and the new team. The buzzing in her veins flared, a reminder of how far she’d come from her old life—and how much closer she was to being caught up in the world she thought she’d left behind. 

The sensation intensified with each thought and before she could catch herself, the car radio blasted to life at full volume, flooding the car with static and an old pop tune.

“Whoa!” Jake yelped, jerking the wheel slightly as the sudden noise startled him.

Piper’s eyes widened in panic. “Sorry! Sorry!” she blurted, fumbling with the radio controls. The volume knob spun under her hand, but it didn’t respond fast enough. Her powers were still in control, and the station flipped chaotically between frequencies.

“Piper! What the heck is going on with this thing?” Jake asked, glancing between the road and the console. His voice was tinged with worry, though he tried to play it off. “Thought you were supposed to be the tech-savvy one!”

“I—I’ve got it!” she stammered, focusing hard. With a surge of effort, she reined in the buzzing inside her. The radio clicked off abruptly, leaving the car in sudden, almost oppressive silence.

Jake chuckled nervously, shaking his head. “Well, that was weird. Must be some kind of glitch, huh?”

“Yeah. Glitch,” Piper echoed, her heart pounding. She kept her gaze firmly on the window, refusing to meet his eyes. Her hands trembled slightly, and she pressed them against her thighs, willing herself to stay calm. The last thing she needed was another outburst—especially with her dad sitting next to her.

He seemed to shrug it off, returning his attention to the road. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. The hot dog statue. You’ll never guess who tried to steal it this time…”

Piper forced a laugh, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her powers were becoming harder to control, and the closer she got to Swellview, the more volatile they seemed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was heading straight into the eye of the storm.

As they pulled into the driveway, Piper spotted her mother, Kris Hart, standing by the front door, her hands on her hips and a massive grin stretched across her face. She looked every bit the welcoming committee, her bright pink cardigan catching the late afternoon sun, and Piper couldn’t help but smile despite herself.

“There she is! My baby girl!” Kris called out as they parked, her voice brimming with excitement.

Piper groaned softly, slumping in her seat. “Why does everyone keep calling me that? I’m an adult, you know.”

Jake chuckled as he turned off the engine. “You’ll always be our baby, Pipes. You can’t fight it. Now, go say hi before she bursts a blood vessel from excitement.”

Reluctantly, Piper climbed out of the car, stretching her legs as her mom practically bounded over to her.

“Oh, look at you! You’re so grown up! And you’re wearing your hair longer! That’s new!” Kris teased, pulling Piper into a firm hug that smelled faintly of lavender and freshly baked cookies.

“Hi, Mom,” Piper said, her voice muffled against her mom’s shoulder. “Nice to see you too.”

Kris stepped back, holding her at arm’s length and scanning her from head to toe. “You look thin. Have you been eating enough? And what’s with the circles under your eyes? Have you been sleeping?”

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Piper said dryly, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “And yes, I’ve been eating. And sleeping. Mostly.”

Kris wasn’t convinced, but she decided to let it slide. “Well, you’re home now, and I’m going to fix all that. I’ve got lobster balls and a bowl of chilli ready for you! But with a twist! Vegan cheese and gluten-free noodles. Isn’t that fun?”

“Fun is definitely one word for it,” Piper replied, shooting her dad a sideways look as he lugged her bags up the porch steps. He smirked but stayed wisely silent.

“Oh, and before I forget—” Kris clapped her hands together—“Your Dad and I have been brainstorming a family project for the summer. You’re going to love it. It’s a 3D diorama of Swellview through the ages! We even got a kit for miniature furniture.”

Piper blinked, the exhaustion she’d thought she’d shaken off during the drive creeping back in full force. “That… sounds like a lot.”

Kris beamed, entirely missing the sarcasm. “It’s going to be amazing. You can even paint the little people. You’re so creative, I just know you’ll be great at it.”

Piper sighed, glancing back at the car as if it might somehow drive itself away with her in it. No such luck.

“C’mon,” Kris said, looping an arm around Piper’s shoulder and steering her toward the house. “Let’s get you inside. I’ve got cookies cooling on the counter, and you can tell us all about your trip. I want to hear every detail.”

“Sure,” Piper said, forcing a smile. “Every detail.”

As she stepped through the familiar threshold, the buzz of her powers stirred faintly again. She ignored it, pushing the feeling deep down as her mom’s chatter filled the space around her. Home sweet home, indeed.

After lunch, Piper was in her room unpacking, trying to force her brain to focus on mundane tasks. The act of organizing her things felt almost therapeutic, a way to keep her hands busy and her mind quiet, even if only for a little while.

She was folding a hoodie when a light knock sounded at the door. Before Piper could answer, her mom stepped in, balancing an armful of plush pillows.

“I’ve made up your bed, just the way you like it,” Kris said with a warm smile, nudging the door closed with her hip.

“Thanks, Mom,” Piper said, her tone genuine but distracted as she slid her hoodie into the dresser.

Kris walked over and plopped the pillows onto the bed before sitting down, her posture casual but her gaze sharp. She watched Piper for a moment, her expression thoughtful, then leaned forward slightly.

“So…” she began, her voice dripping with curiosity, “when do we get to meet James? Will he be coming to visit this summer while you’re here for your internship?”

Piper’s stomach twisted. She hesitated, her hand pausing over the next item in her suitcase. She hadn’t told anyone about the growing distance between her and James—not her mom, not her dad, not even Marla. She wasn’t sure where things stood with him anymore. Their once-vibrant relationship had dimmed, like a lightbulb struggling to stay lit. He was always busy, and though he gave her a heartfelt goodbye at the airport, it didn’t erase the fact that his priorities were elsewhere.

“Uh…” Piper cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “I don’t think so. He’s super swamped with work right now.”

Kris’s brow furrowed slightly. “Really? What’s he working on? Another one of those big cases?”

“Yeah,” Piper said quickly, turning back to her suitcase. “He’s handling this complicated corporate lawsuit. He’s been working long hours on it for weeks.”

Kris gave a thoughtful hum. “That makes sense. Lawyers do work a lot. But…” She hesitated, studying her daughter carefully. “Even busy people need to make time for the people they care about. Relationships take effort, Piper.”

The words stung more than they should have. Piper yanked the zipper closed with a little more force than necessary, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “I know, Mom.”

Kris softened her tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just saying… your dad and I—we’ve been through busy times too. But we always made sure to prioritize each other. Even when it wasn’t easy.”

“It’s not the same,” Piper snapped, turning to face her mom. “James and I are fine. He’s got his career, I’ve got mine. We’re managing, okay?”

Kris’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded. “Alright, if you say so.” She stood up and smoothed the edge of the bedspread. “But if you ever need to talk about it—or anything else—I’m here. And so is your dad. Though his advice might come with some questionable metaphors.”

Despite herself, Piper let out a small laugh. “Thanks, Mom.”

She hesitated at the door, one hand resting on the frame. “You should think about inviting James to visit, though. It’d be nice to get to know him better. And I think it’d be good for you two to spend some time together.”

“Yeah,” Piper said, though her voice lacked conviction. “I’ll think about it.”

Kris nodded, smiling softly before leaving the room.

As the door clicked shut, Piper sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at the now-closed suitcase. Her mom’s words lingered, stirring the unease she’d been trying so hard to ignore. She thought of James’s goodbye at the airport—his warm smile, the way he’d kissed her forehead—but even that moment had felt strained, like they were clinging to something slipping away.

Her chest tightened, and she felt the familiar buzzing sensation creeping through her body, a faint hum under her skin. Clenching her fists, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. She couldn’t lose control now. Not here.

Before she could process what was happening, a sharp, glowing ball of energy suddenly shot out from her hands. It streaked across the room, sizzling through the air, and slammed directly into her suitcase.

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a faint pop. Smoke began to rise from the suitcase, the sharp smell of singed fabric filling the air.

Piper jumped to her feet, her heart pounding as she rushed to the suitcase. “No, no, no!” she muttered, yanking it open to survey the damage. Her favorite hoodie had a charred hole right in the middle, and several other items were blackened, the edges still faintly smoking. A pair of jeans was completely ruined, reduced to frayed, scorched threads.

She stared at the mess in dismay, her chest tightening with a mix of frustration and fear. She hadn’t meant to do that—she hadn’t even realized it was going to happen. The energy had just… exploded out of her, completely out of her control.

“Oh, great,” she muttered, grabbing a shirt with a burned sleeve and holding it up. “Just what I needed. Fried clothes.”

There was a knock at the door, startling her. “Pipes? You okay in there?” Kris called from the other side.

Piper’s stomach dropped. “Uh, yeah! Just—uh—dropped something!” she called back, her voice higher-pitched than usual.

There was a pause before her mom responded, “Alright, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do!” Piper forced out, listening intently as her mom’s footsteps retreated down the hall.

Once the coast was clear, she turned back to the smoldering mess. Panic bubbled up inside her. How was she supposed to explain this? She couldn’t exactly tell her parents she had accidentally zapped her suitcase because her emotions got the better of her.

Piper pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling the familiar hum of energy beneath her skin. She needed to get this under control—fast. Otherwise, a ruined suitcase might be the least of her problems. 

Making up a quick excuse to her parents about visiting Marla, Piper slipped out of the house. Pulling up the address that Schwoz texted her, Piper hopped on a bus and headed downtown.

Looks like it was time to pay Captain Man a visit.

Piper stood in front of Ray’s house, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to taking matters into her own hands—she’d been doing that for years. But asking for help, especially from someone like Ray Manchester, was a new experience. She didn’t even know where to start, what to say, or how to explain just how out of control everything had become.

Ray was retired. That much she knew. He’d been Henry’s mentor for years, but he’d stepped away from the superhero life two years ago. It had been hard for Piper to imagine him as anything other than the egotistical, self-centred Captain Man she’d gotten to know once she discovered his secret identity all those years ago. But now, Henry was gone, and there was no one else to turn to.

Taking a deep breath, she finally knocked on the door. She’d been standing there for a while, weighing her options, but now there was no turning back. Her powers were growing—unpredictable, uncontrollable—and she didn’t know how to stop it.

The door swung open almost immediately, and Ray was standing there, wearing one of his usual Hawaiian shirts that fitted him like a glove, looking more like an ordinary civilian than a former superhero.

His eyes widened when he saw her standing there. There was a moment of pure surprise on his face, as if he’d been struck by a force he wasn’t prepared for.

“Piper?” Ray blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” His gaze darted over her, taking in the anxious expression on her face, but more than that, he seemed genuinely taken aback. “You’re the last person I thought would show up at my door. Did Schwoz give you my new address? He seems to be blabbing it to almost anyone.”

Piper’s impatience made her respond almost before he’d finished speaking. “I need your help, Ray. I have a problem.” The words tumbled out in a rush, her voice tight and urgent. She didn’t have time for pleasantries. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

Ray’s expression shifted from surprise to scepticism as he crossed his muscular arms, his lips pressing together in thought. He stepped back slightly, a hint of frustration creeping into his features.

“I’m retired. Why does everyone keep forgetting that?” He muttered half to himself. The sarcasm was all too familiar, but there was a bit of bite to it, like he hadn’t quite gotten used to being away from the hero world.

Piper’s frustration flared. “Look, Ray, we both know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. I need your help. Henry told me to come to you. Something’s going on, and I need answers.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed and for a moment, he just stared at her. She could tell he was running through the possibilities in his head, none of which probably included his old sidekick’s little sister showing up at his door with some kind of emergency. With an exasperated sigh, he stepped aside, letting her into the house.

“Fine,” he said, his voice gruff. “Come in. But don’t expect me to throw on the suit and save the day. I’m done with that life.”

Piper pushed past him, brushing aside his reluctance like it was a minor inconvenience. She had bigger problems to deal with. “I didn’t ask you to throw on a suit, Ray. I just need someone to help me figure out what’s going on.”

Ray muttered under his breath, closing the door behind her. “Right… great way to start my day…”

“It’s the evening,” Piper pointed out dryly, arching an eyebrow at him.

Ray shrugged, unfazed by her sarcasm. “Same thing,” he said with a dismissive wave, and turned to lead her further into the house.

Piper took a moment to look around. The place was unexpectedly ordinary—almost startling in its normalcy. The walls were painted in muted tones, adorned with a few framed pictures and a clock that ticked steadily. A worn couch sat against one wall, its cushions slightly sagging, while a coffee table bore the marks of countless mugs and hastily scribbled notes. There was a faint smell of coffee and something sweet, maybe cookies, lingering in the air.

Yet, there was a strange stillness about it all. Gone were the flashing lights of the Man Cave, the clanking of metal and the feeling of constant movement. Here, everything was quiet. There was nothing flashy, nothing urgent. Just… life. Ray’s life, away from the mask, away from the fight.

As Piper followed Ray further into the room, her eyes landed on a group of teenagers sprawled across the living room in various states of relaxation. Some lounged on the floor, others perched on the couch. They looked about as chill as a group of superheroes could—no sense of worry or urgency in sight.

A lanky blonde boy with a skateboard leaning against the armrest caught her eye first. She squinted at him, her brow furrowing slightly. 

Before she could ask who he was, the boy grinned and waved. “Hey! I’m Buddy.”

Piper blinked, giving him a polite nod. “Uh, hey... Buddy.” She turned to Ray with a raised eyebrow. “You still find it hard to make friends with people your own age?”

Ray shot her a half-hearted glare, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. “Ha-ha. I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” he said, the sarcasm thick in his tone, but there was an edge of fondness behind it. She’d always been able to get under his skin with a few well-placed jabs, and it seemed that hadn’t changed in the slightest. 

Her gaze shifted to the others, and recognition clicked instantly.

“Miles,” Piper said, pointing at the boy who was now tossing his phone onto the couch. “Still teleporting into awkward situations?”

Miles grinned. “Only when it’s absolutely necessary. Or really funny.”

She turned to Mika, who was shuffling cards with a sly smile. “Mika. Still the smartest person in the room?”

“Obviously,” Mika replied, rolling her eyes. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten.”

Piper’s eyes landed on Bose, who was currently upside down on the couch, his head hanging off the edge. “Bose! Still defying gravity—just not on purpose?”

Bose waved, his goofy grin wide. “Hey, Piper! Yeah, gravity and I are still working out our issues.”

Finally, she locked eyes with Chapa, who gave a small, knowing smirk. A faint crackle of electricity sparked at Chapa’s fingertips. “Chapa,” Piper said with a grin. “Still sparking with attitude?”

“You know it,” Chapa replied, the spark disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Ray watched the exchanges, his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face. “Well, that saves me a lot of time. Guess you don’t need introductions after all.”

Before Piper could respond, the group’s casual chatter erupted into friendly bickering.

“I told you I could get past the security system!” Miles insisted.

“Oh please,” Mika shot back. “You set off alarms just looking at them.”

“Maybe don’t hack anything this time, Miles,” Buddy chimed in, smirking. “We don’t need another crisis today.”

Piper arched an eyebrow, glancing at Ray. “You sure you’re not still training them? Because this sounds exactly like the Man Cave used to.”

Ray let out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing his temples. “I swear, it’s like babysitting. Except they ignore me more.”

“Nice to know not much has changed,” Piper said dryly, folding her arms.

Ray gave her a flat look. “Oh, things have changed. I’m retired. That means I get to choose when to be annoyed.”

“Uh-huh,” Piper replied, unconvinced. “And yet, here we are.”

The bickering grew louder. Ray waved a hand dismissively. “Just ignore them. They’re harmless. Mostly.”

The humor in Piper’s eyes faded as the gnawing worry in her gut returned. The chaos in the room felt like a cruel reminder of how out of control everything had become for her. She clenched her fists, her breath tightening in her chest.

“So,” she said, voice turning serious as she took a step forward. “About that help I need…”

She hesitated, her heart pounding. Admitting she was in trouble, admitting she needed his help—it was harder than she thought. “I didn’t come here just for advice, Ray. I—”

The front door swung open, and a cheerful voice cut through the tension.

“Babe! Buddy! I’m home!”

Piper turned sharply, her eyes landing on a stunning blonde woman with an armful of shopping bags. The woman sauntered in with the kind of effortless confidence that made everything else seem to fade away. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was—maybe it was the way the woman carried herself, or the calm aura that seemed to follow her—but the woman seemed to fit exactly in Ray’s house.

The woman’s eyes met Piper’s, a curious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, I see we have a visitor!”

Ray cleared his throat, straightening up. “Uh, Piper, this is Credenza. My girlfriend.”

Piper blinked, the surprise evident on her face. Her lips curled into a wry smile. “You? A girlfriend? That’s shocking. I thought your whole world was just you.”

Ray rolled his eyes, the fond annoyance on his face unmistakable. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sparkling wit.”

Credenza’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Piper. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Piper shook her hand, her mind still reeling. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”

The normalcy of it—Ray with a house, a girlfriend, a gaggle of superpowered teens—felt surreal. This wasn’t the Captain Man she remembered. And maybe that was what scared her the most. Because if he had changed, maybe everything really was falling apart.

Ray seemed to sense her spiraling thoughts. His smile faded as he looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Kids, clear out for a bit.”

There was a collective groan, but they didn’t argue. The Danger Force crew shuffled upstairs, Buddy trailing behind with his skateboard. Credenza gave Ray a quick peck on the cheek before following them, leaving the room in an unnerving silence.

The air grew heavier.

“Okay,” Piper said, her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of what she had to say came crashing back down on her. Her eyes met his with a mixture of urgency and discomfort as she said, “I have powers.”

Ray froze, his eyes widening. “Wait… powers?” His voice was tinged with disbelief. “Like superpowers ?”

Piper nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I don’t even know how they happened. But they’re out of control.”

Ray’s surprise only grew the more Piper spoke. He was no stranger to the world of super powered individuals, having spent years surrounded by supervillains and young heroes alike. But the idea of Henry’s sister suddenly developing powers was something he hadn’t expected.

He leaned back, his eyes studying her carefully as if trying to see past the layer of worry and fear.  Then he let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious,” he said. “This isn’t some sort of prank or something?”

Piper could feel the weight of his skepticism. “Do I look like I’m joking?” she retorted with a hint of irritation. “You think I’d be here if I wasn’t serious?”

Ray remembered Henry telling him before that Piper could be stubborn and headstrong. But right now, staring at her, he could see something different. She was terrified.

He leaned forward slightly, his arms crossing over his chest, trying to make sense of it all.  “Okay, hold on. How long has this been going on?”

“It’s only been a week,” she replied quickly, her words rushing out in a jumble. She was clearly agitated, her eyes betraying her inner turmoil. “I was with Henry, in Dystopia, a month ago. That’s when I first felt it. The buzzing. Like something’s crawling under my skin. I thought it was just stress at first. But the past few days… things have been getting worse. I don’t know what to do about it. And Henry can’t help me. So, I came to you.”

Ray furrowed his brows. “And where is Henry? This is something he definitely wouldn’t leave you to fend through alone.”

Piper looked away for a moment, the mention of her brother bringing a fresh wave of worry. “He’s on the run,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Ray froze. The mention of Henry sent a ripple through him—a sharp tension that replaced the confusion. He didn’t hide his reaction, his eyes widening and his jaw tightening, a flicker of worry in his gaze.

“On the run?” Ray echoed, his voice jumping an octave. His expression shifted from curiosity to concern. “What do you mean on the run? What happened to him?”

“I don’t know! I’m just in the dark about this as you are!” Piper’s frustration rose, but she kept her voice steady, fighting to keep the panic out of her words.

Ray’s mind raced at the mention of Henry being on the run. It wasn’t like Henry to disappear without a trace—not without a damn good reason.

He stood up quickly, pacing for a moment, before turning back to Piper with a sharp look. “Wait, you said you called him. And he’s just… gone? That’s not like him. Where the hell is he?”

“Somewhere in Dystopia. With Charlotte and Jasper. I don’t know exactly,” Piper said.

The mention of Jasper and Charlotte’s involvement only added to Ray’s growing alarm.

He stopped pacing, his eyes widening further. “Wait... they’re with him?” His voice trembled with disbelief, the implications now weighing on him heavily. 

Ray’s mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios, each one worse than the last. The three of them stuck in Dystopia—a place plagued by supervillains and the constant threat of danger—with no way out? It was a recipe for nothing but disaster.

“He told me not to worry, that he’d contact me when he could," Piper continued. "But he’s deep in something, Ray. I don’t know how bad it is, but I can feel it. Something’s going on. And it's connected to all of this—to me and these powers. That’s why Henry said I needed to come to you.”

The mention of the current situation—both her’s and Henry’s—sent an electric pulse of frustration through her, and as she spoke, she felt her skin tingle. The buzzing was back, stronger this time, like it was pulling at her from the inside. She clenched her fists, trying to focus on controlling it, but her tension was too great.

As she spoke the words ‘connected somehow’, the lights overhead flickered violently, and for a moment, the room plunged into darkness. Then, with a sharp crackling sound, they blinked back on—brighter than before, almost too bright, as if the power surge had been too much. Ray blinked, his attention snapping back to her as the light stabilized. His mouth opened, but no words came out at first. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and there was an almost electrical charge in the air.

Piper’s breath quickened as she realized what had just happened.

“Did you—?” Ray started, his voice now low with realization. He took a step back, eyes darting to the lights above them, then back to Piper. “You… you did that?”

Piper’s gaze was locked on the lightbulbs, a mix of awe and frustration in her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to. But yeah. That was me.” She exhaled shakily, wiping a hand across her forehead. “It seems to happen when I get emotional. The more I try to hold it back, the worse it gets.”

Ray stared at her, his mind processing the implications. The room felt thick with charged air, and for a moment, everything was silent except for the hum of lights.

He was rarely rendered speechless, but right now, he found himself in a state of shock. He had expected many things when Piper showed up on his doorstep, but this... this was beyond anything he could have prepared for.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before speaking again. “You did that. Just by being upset?” He watched as Piper nodded, her face a mask of frustration and helplessness. The energy in the room was tangible, almost alive, flickering in her eyes like an unearthly force.

Ray stared at Piper in a mixture of shock and trepidation. The realization that she held powers, powers she struggled to control, set off all sorts of alarms in his head. Every word she said added more weight to the worry he was already grappling with. This wasn’t just some innocent visit. Henry was in trouble, and now it seemed Piper’s powers, however unexpected and dangerous, were somehow linked to it.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. “This... this is bad," he said, his voice low. The weight of the situation settling hard on his shoulders. “You’re telling me your powers are linked to your emotions? That’s great. Just great . With your anger management problems, this isn’t going to be easy.”

“Hey! I don’t have anger problems!”

“Piper, your ability to get worked up is almost legendary at this point. Seriously, I’ve seen you storm out of the Man Cave more times than I can count. You’ve got a temper that'd make most villains shiver,” he said, his tone a curious mix of mocking and serious.

Piper’s eyes flashed with defiance. “I. Do. Not. Have. An. Anger. Problem!” As she spoke, the lights overhead flickered again, their glow intensifying for a moment before dropping back to normal. This time, the whole room seemed to vibrate for a split second, like the air itself shuddered. Ray’s eyes flicked up, and he noticed Credenza on the upstairs landing, her eyebrows raised.

He shook his head silently at Credenza, gesturing for her to not come into the room, then refocused his attention on Piper. Her breathing was heavier now, and her body seemed to be vibrating with suppressed energy.

“Yeah, no, the light show is totally convincing me you’re completely chill,” Ray retorted, his eyes flicking back to her.

“Shut up! I’m trying to control it!” Piper snapped, her voice sharp. The lights overhead flickered violently again, reflecting her frustration.

Ray held up his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, yeah, you've got excellent control, Piper! The lights and the room shaking and all that.. just a sign of an outstanding level of emotional stability.” He rolled his eyes, his sarcastic tone cutting through the tense air.

Piper let out a frustrated growl. “This is exactly what I mean. I try to stay calm, and you immediately get under my skin,” she snapped, her voice laced with an impatient edge.

Ray just smirked. “Ah, so you’re blaming me for your own anger issues?”

“I do not—” Piper started, but her argument was cut short by the sudden flicker of the lights. This time, the room felt like it had been hit by a wave of invisible energy, a small shockwave that rippled through the air. It shook the small trinkets and photographs on the nearby side table, causing them to chatter against the wood.

Ray’s eyes went wide as he saw the effects of her powers. Not just the lights this time, but now, it was like her anger had a physical presence, a force that could affect the very air around her.

He took a step back, his arms slightly raised protectively. The atmosphere in the room had grown thick, the air almost humming with residual energy.

“Piper…” Ray started, his voice low, the mockery gone. “You need to calm down. Like, right now.”

But Piper was in too deep, her anger now mixing with the frustration and helplessness of the entire situation. She clenched her fists, her breath coming in short, almost heaving gasps.

“Calm down?” she practically yelled, her voice shaking with emotion. “How am I supposed to calm down when my brother and his friends are in danger, I suddenly have these powers, and you’re just standing there being your usual, aggravating self?”

Ray opened his mouth to reply, to snap back at her, but the air between them seemed to crackle with growing tension. The lights overhead flickered faster now, each pulse getting more intense, more erratic. Even the furniture seemed to shudder under the unseen force of her powers.

He tensed, his eyes darting around, taking in the growing chaos. “Piper, the more you get worked up, the worse your powers will get. You need to get a grip. Now.”

“I can’t… I can’t seem to control it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The lights above them continued to flicker wildly, the room now bathed in a chaotic strobe light.

Ray stepped closer, slowly, his hands raised in a calming gesture. The atmosphere grew thicker, the air almost like sandpaper against his skin.

“Just focus on your breathing, Piper. Close your eyes and take deep breaths, okay?” he kept his voice steady, masking the growing alarm he felt.

Piper clenched her eyes shut, her teeth clenched together. Her body trembled, and the air was almost crackling with energy. But slowly, hesitantly, she followed his instructions. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and expanding, then exhaled slowly, the breath shuddering as it left her lungs.

The lights continued to flicker but started to slow down, the erratic pulses becoming more regular, like the heartbeat of the room.

Ray took another step forward, his gaze fixed on her. “That’s it... focus. Just breathe. Deep, slow breaths.”

Piper’s eyes were still closed as she continued to breathe, her chest rising and falling more evenly now. Slowly, the room temperature started to normalize, and the vibration in the air lessened. The lights steadied, their glow now consistent.

Ray stayed close, his voice still low and reassuring. “You’re doing good. Just keep focusing on your breath.”

Piper exhaled slowly once more, her body trembling slightly. The anger and frustration were still there, but it was no longer feeding back into her powers. The room was calmer now, the chaotic hum of energy reduced to a background static.

Finally, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. The fear in her eyes was still there, but it was now mixed with a hint of relief.

“I… I think I did it," she said softly, her voice still shaky. "The lights… they stopped flaring up."

Ray nodded, a small, reassured smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, you did. You regained control. For now at least.”

He moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder in a rare sign of reassurance. “How do you feel?”

Piper took a moment to process, taking a few more deep breaths. “Better. But… it’s not easy. I can feel it there, inside me. Like a constant hum. It’s like it’s waiting to come out.”

Ray nodded, his thoughts racing through his mind. He knew the feeling she described all too well—the constant itch of power coursing through one's body.

Piper let out a long sigh, the weight of the situation and the exertion from controlling her powers making her feel suddenly weary.

She took a step back, leaning against the wall, her head thudding against the cool surface.

“This is insane," she whispered, more to herself than to Ray. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve always relied on Henry to handle these things, to be the one on the front lines. Now… I’m the one with the powers. And they feel like they’re tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Ray watched her, silently processing her words. He could see the pain and confusion etched on her face, the weariness settling into her features. He felt an unexpected pang of sympathy, a strange feeling of understanding for the girl he once found so irritating.

He moved closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “It’s not easy,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “Having these powers. It consumes you, it wears you down. But you’re not alone in this, Piper.”

Piper looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and he continued: “I know it’s scary, but you have us. You have me. I’ll help you get through this." He paused, his gaze unwavering. “And we’ll get Henry back. Whatever is going on in Dystopia, we’ll find out and fix it. You’re not alone in this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. The shift in tone took her off guard. “You really mean that?”

He leaned against the wall next to her, their shoulders almost touching as he nodded. “I mean, I know what it’s like. To have powers you didn’t ask for, to have this pressure to use them for good, to keep them under control. I get it. I mean, I’ve been doing this hero stuff for a long time. I’ve seen many people struggle with their powers. I know what it’s like. So, if you need help… I’m here.”

Piper was quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, the stress of the situation seeming to give way slightly.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not just for the whole ‘you're not alone' speech, but... all of it.”

“Don't mention it,” Ray said with a dismissive wave, but there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes. “But I’m not going back into the game, Piper. I’m just helping you and Henry. That’s it. Captain Man is no more.”

Piper nodded. “That’s fair.”

He then smirked. “Oh, and don't expect a repeat of this pep talk anytime soon.”

"Wouldn't dream of it," Piper said with a smile.

There was a brief but comfortable silence between them. The room, once filled with tension and chaos, now felt more at ease.

Ray pushed himself from the wall and stretched lazily. “All right, no more emotional heart-to-heart. We need a plan. Tomorrow you’ll start training with the Danger Force. But tonight, get some rest.”

Piper nodded, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. But even as she left the house and boarded the bus, her mind buzzed with everything that had happened—and everything that was still to come.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 | Sock Stars

Once Piper left, Ray Manchester sat alone in the kitchen, staring at the chipped mug in his hand. The earlier conversation with her played over in his mind like a relentless loop, each word another weight pressing down.

A light knock on the doorframe broke his trance. He looked up to see Credenza, her expression soft but concerned.

“Hey,” she said, stepping in. “You okay?”

He gave a half-hearted shrug, his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Define ‘okay,’” he muttered, the exhaustion in his voice unmistakable.

Credenza frowned and moved closer, pulling out the chair across from him. “What’s going on, Ray? Is this about Piper? You’ve been all broody and… well, you don’t brood well. It’s not your vibe.”

Ray sighed, setting the mug down with a thud. “Yeah, it’s about Piper. She’s... a lot.” He leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “She shows up out of nowhere, tells me she has superpowers and that she can’t control them. And, oh yeah, Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper are on the run, too. Great news all around.”

Credenza tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s nothing like Henry,” Ray said, his voice quieter now. “Henry, for all his sass, had this... steadiness about him. Even when he was freaking out, he still managed to pull it together. Piper’s... different. She’s got this fire in her, but it’s wild. Unchecked. And it’s tied to her emotions. When she gets worked up, things get... dicey.”

Credenza’s brows furrowed in concern. “What do you mean? Is she having trouble with her powers?”

Ray nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the table. “When she’s upset, when she’s feeling overwhelmed or threatened, things just… spiral. It’s like she’s constantly on the edge, and I don’t know how to help her keep it under control. I don’t know how to help her with any of it.”

Credenza’s voice softened as she reached across the table to touch his hand. “Ray, you’ve been there before. You’ve helped people figure out their powers. Henry’s. The Danger Force. You can do it again.”

Ray shook his head slowly, his thoughts racing. “It’s different this time. Piper’s not just dealing with her powers. She’s dealing with everything. Henry being gone. Her life getting flipped upside down. She’s… she’s not talking about it, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s carrying a weight she shouldn’t have to, and I can’t figure out how to make it better. I’m supposed to be the one helping her, and I don’t even know where to start.”

“You start by being you,” Credenza said simply, her voice calm but firm. “You were Captain Man, remember? The unbreakable hero with the hair of a shampoo commercial and the dramatics of a soap opera villain. If anyone can reach her, it’s you.”

Ray’s lips twitched at her teasing, but the doubt didn’t leave his eyes. “What if I can’t? What if I make it worse?”

Credenza leaned back in her chair, her tone taking on a playful edge. “Well, you’ve already got her yelling at you, so it’s not like you can get any worse.”

Ray groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a loud thud. “Not helpful.”

Credenza laughed softly, reaching over to pat his head. “Look, you’re not perfect. You’re a little self-centered, a lot dramatic, and you’ve got the patience of a caffeinated squirrel. But you care, Ray. You care a lot. And that’s what Piper needs right now—someone who cares enough to stick around, even when things get messy.”

Ray looked up at her, his face a mixture of frustration and weariness. “What if it’s not enough? What if I fail her the way I failed Henry?”

Before Credenza could respond, Ray’s gaze flicked to the far corner of the kitchen, where his old Captain Man phone lay forgotten. He stood up suddenly, a thought pulling him away from the conversation.

“Ray?” Credenza called after him, but he was already moving toward the drawer where he kept his old gear.

He opened it slowly, pulling out the phone. It felt strange in his hands, heavy with memories. He wiped the screen and powered it up, the flickering light casting an eerie glow in the quiet room.

Credenza joined him by his side as the screen displayed a string of missed messages.

“What is it?” she asked, her tone uncertain but still concerned.

Ray’s fingers froze on the screen as he saw the sender’s name. KidDanger_00. His heart skipped a beat.

The message was dated two days ago, a single line of cryptic text: “Brnd. Cnt hlp or tlk. Pls prtct her.”

Ray read it again, his pulse quickening. “Henry…” he murmured, his voice faltering. “He’s saying he’s burned—compromised. He can’t talk, can’t reach out, not without putting himself at risk. And the ‘her’…”

He trailed off, his mind racing as realization sank in. The ‘her’ Henry was talking about could only be one person. Piper.

Credenza’s eyes widened. “Piper… He’s asking you to protect her, Ray.”

Ray’s grip tightened on the phone, his fingers numb as he processed the weight of the message.

“I—” He shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know he’d reach out like this. Why didn’t he—why didn’t he trust me to help earlier?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in agitation. “I’ve been fumbling around, not even knowing where to start. And now I find out Henry’s been trying to tell me all along that it’s on me. That I need to protect her.”

Credenza paused, her gaze thoughtful as she took a small step closer. “Maybe he didn’t think you’d be willing. You retired from being Captain Man, Ray. He probably figured you were done with all of it.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed, his breath caught in his chest. “You’re right. I gave all that up. I walked away. But—”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing with agitation. “—now I realize Henry’s been sending me this warning all along. He trusted me, even if he thought I’d quit. And I’ve been letting him down.”

Credenza stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “Ray, you didn’t know. You’re doing the best you can. And now, knowing that Henry’s relying on you, you have a clearer picture of what you need to do. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Ray’s breath caught in his chest, his eyes heavy with guilt and uncertainty. “What if I’m not enough? What if I mess up?”

“You won’t,” Credenza said softly. “You never have, not really. You just have to take it one step at a time. Help Piper with her powers. Just be there. That’s what she needs most right now.”

Ray’s shoulders slumped as the tension eased slightly from his chest. “Yeah. One step at a time.” He repeated the words like a mantra, as if trying to convince himself. “I guess… I guess I can do that.”

Credenza smiled, her eyes filled with quiet confidence. “I know you can.”

Ray looked down at the phone again, his mind still swirling. “For Henry. I’m doing this for Henry.”

With less than a week to go before her internship was due to start, Piper agreed to meet up with Marla for a girls shopping trip. After all, she did need to replace the clothes she accidentally fried.

Marla linked her arms through Pipers. “Pipes, you won’t believe what happened at last night’s party.”

Piper raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at her lips. "You’re gonna have to tell me, because I was stuck at home, dealing with way less fun stuff,” she lied.

Marla rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, you know. Classic. I swear, Derek tried to pull the same stunt with his dumb karaoke machine. It’s like, why do guys think they can sing when they can’t even hold a note? Anyway, that’s not the point. Guess who showed up?"

Piper gave her a sideways glance. “Who?”

“Jana Tetrazini,” Marla said, bringing her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper.

Piper froze for a second, her smile fading slightly. “She’s back in town?”

Marla nodded, her face lighting up with curiosity. "Yeah, can you believe it? She’s been living in New York for the past few months, and just randomly shows up like she didn’t leave a year ago to avoid all of us. Apparently, she’s ‘changed,’ whatever that means."

Piper tried not to let her emotions show. The name Jana Tetrazini alone had always sparked a mix of memories—ones that she wasn’t sure she wanted to revisit. The rivalry, the constant need to outdo each other, the way Jana always seemed to find a way to get under her skin. She hadn’t thought about her in years, and now here she was, popping back into the scene like nothing had changed.

“She’s changed, huh?” Piper said, trying to sound casual. “What’s she up to now?”

Marla leaned in, her face lighting up with gossip. “Oh, she’s all into fitness now. Yoga, green smoothies, you name it. She’s even got this little blog about how to live your ‘best life,’ like she’s some self-help guru.”

Piper couldn't help but snort softly. “Jana and a self-help blog? That’s a laugh.”

"Right?" Marla agreed, her tone amused. “But the best part? She’s all over Derek now, like she never left. They’re practically inseparable, even though we all know Derek still has a soft spot for her. I bet you ten bucks they’ll start dating again by next week.”

Piper felt an unexpected sting at the thought. It wasn’t that she cared about Derek—she’d left that behind a long time ago—but the idea that Jana could just waltz back in and pick up where she’d left off felt... irritating.

“Well, good for them,” Piper said, forcing herself to sound indifferent. “Let’s just hope they can keep the drama to a minimum. Some people thrive on that kind of thing, and honestly, I’m not here for it.”

Marla grinned, oblivious to the shift in Piper's mood. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a lot on your plate anyway. And speaking of which, how’s everything with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Legal?”

"He's good," Piper said, trying to sound casual but unable to hide growing discomfort. “Busy with work. I’m busy too, though, so we’re both kind of juggling everything.” She shrugged. “But we’re good.”

“’Good’ isn’t a word you use when you’re talking about that man,” Marla teased, nudging her. “He’s a catch, Pipes. You’ve got to let yourself enjoy it.”

“I do enjoy it," Piper protested, though a flicker of doubt crossed her mind. James was wonderful, but sometimes she felt like she was living in two worlds—one where she was still trying to figure herself out, and another where she was dating someone who seemed to have everything figured out already.

“Well, better James than Derek and his dumb karaoke machine," Marla joked, snapping Piper out of her thoughts. “And honestly, who cares about Jana? You’ve got way more going for you than she ever did.”

Piper smiled, though her mind lingered on Jana's return. She hated how one name could make her question so much about herself. She had grown up, matured, found her footing—or so she thought. Yet, there was still this nagging voice that told her she wasn’t quite there yet.

As they turned into a clothing store, Piper tried to push the thoughts aside. James, her internship, her powers—she had enough on her plate. The last thing she needed was to let Jana Tetrazini worm her way back into her head.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t about Jana. It was about the part of herself she still wasn’t sure of, the part that doubted whether she could really balance everything she was trying to be.

“So, what’s new with you, Marl?” Piper asked, steering the conversation away from Jana and Derek. She gave her best friend a curious smile, genuinely wanting to hear about her life.

Marla groaned dramatically, tossing her head back. “Ugh, where do I even start? Let’s see... my mom’s on this ‘declutter the house’ kick, which somehow translates to me cleaning out my closet. Apparently, I’m holding on to ‘too many relics of the past,’ whatever that means.”

Piper smirked. “You mean your collection of denim jackets from middle school doesn’t spark joy?”

“Um, those jackets were iconic,” Marla defended, though a grin crept onto her face. “Anyway, the real reason she’s pushing it is because Aunt Denise is coming to visit next week, and you know how she gets about our house not looking like a showroom.”

Piper laughed, picturing Marla’s mom in full cleaning frenzy. “I remember. Let me guess, you’re also banned from buying anything else until your closet passes inspection?”

Marla sighed dramatically. “Oh, absolutely. Which is why I need you to help me smuggle my new finds into the house later.” She winked. “You’re good at sneaky stuff.”

“Gee, thanks,” Piper teased. “Glad to know my skills are appreciated.”

Piper's phone rang while Marla was busy browsing a clothing rack. Piper looked at her caller ID. It was an unknown number.

Piper glanced at her phone screen again before answering, her finger hovering over the ‘decline’ button for a moment. She didn’t recognize the number, but curiosity won out.

“Hello?” she said cautiously, shifting her shopping bag to her other hand.

“Piper? Hi, it’s Credenza.”

The voice caught her off guard. “Credenza? Oh… uh, hi.” Piper tried not to sound as surprised as she felt. “How’d you get my number?”

“Ray gave it to me,” Credenza said, her tone careful, like she was stepping on thin ice. “I hope that’s okay.”

Piper adjusted the phone against her ear, glancing at Marla, who was now comparing two wildly different shoes as if they were the most important decision in the world. “I guess. What’s up?”

“Well,” Credenza began, and then there was a short pause. “I know you’ve got your first training session with Ray today. I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner afterward. I know we only just met yesterday, but I thought it might be nice for you to relax and… well, it’d be good to get to know each other better.”

Piper raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of the invitation. “Dinner?”

“Yeah. Nothing fancy,” Credenza added quickly. “Just… food and some time to talk. You’ve been through a lot, and Ray and I thought maybe you’d like a change of pace after training.”

“Does Ray even cook?” Piper asked, half-joking.

She heard a muffled sound on the other end, followed by Ray’s distinct voice in the background. “Tell her we’ve got takeout menus! The good ones, too!”

Credenza sighed audibly before speaking again. “Ignore him. He’s been in ‘helpful mode’ all day.”

Piper couldn’t help but smirk. “Right. That sounds like him.”

There was a brief silence before Credenza spoke again, her voice softer now. “Look, I know this is probably weird for you. We haven’t really talked much, and… well, I get that you might not want to. But I know Ray really wants to make this work. And I’d like to, too. If it’s not dinner, maybe just think about stopping by sometime.”

Piper tilted her head, surprised by the sincerity in Credenza’s tone. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from the call, but it wasn’t this.

In the background, Ray’s voice piped up again, louder this time. “Tell her we’re making brownies!”

“I told you I’m handling this!” Credenza hissed away from the receiver before returning to the call. “So, uh, yeah. Think about it?”

Piper hesitated, her feelings torn between skepticism and curiosity. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally.

“Okay,” Credenza replied, her voice a little brighter now. “We’ll keep it casual. No pressure.”

“Sure,” Piper said. She could still hear Ray’s muffled commentary in the background as the call ended, leaving her staring at her phone with a mix of amusement and confusion.

Marla appeared at her side, holding up the two shoes she’d been debating. “Which ones scream, ‘Look at me, but not in, like, a desperate way’?”

Piper pocketed her phone, shaking her head. “Literally neither.”

“Rude,” Marla said, smirking as she walked off toward another rack of shoes.

Piper followed, but a sudden voice nearby caught her attention.

“No, no, no, Sidney,” a familiar voice argued. “Glitter socks are too basic. If we’re gonna stand out, it’s gotta be neon. Neon is bold, it’s edgy, it screams superhero chic!”

Piper froze mid-step. That voice was too distinct to mistake.

Turning, she spotted them: Oliver Pook, gesturing emphatically at a rack of socks, and Sidney Birnbaum, clutching a bundle of lime-green fanny packs like they were treasure. They were deeply engrossed in their debate.

“No way,” Piper muttered.

Marla turned back to her. “What’s up?”

Piper tilted her head toward them. “Look who it is.”

Marla squinted at the two boys, standing near a display of glittery socks, apparently debating the merits of one pair over another. She gasped. “Oh my gosh, it’s Oliver and Sidney!” She grabbed Piper’s arm. “Do we say hi?”

“Let’s just keep walking,” Piper said under her breath, but it was too late.

Oliver looked up and locked eyes with her. His face lit up like he’d just seen a celebrity. 

“Piper Hart!” he shouted, loud enough for half the store to hear.

Sidney whipped around, nearly dropping his fanny packs. “No way! Madam President!”

Marla dissolved into laughter as Piper groaned.

Before she could even respond, Oliver and Sidney hurried over, looking like overjoyed puppies.

“Piper Hart, in the flesh!” Sidney exclaimed. “This is, like, destiny!”

Oliver nodded furiously. “Seriously, what are the odds? First, we see the glitter socks, and now we see you. It’s like fate is bringing the Man Fans back together!”

Marla, still laughing, leaned closer to Piper. “Oh, this is amazing. I am so glad we didn’t walk away.”

“Traitor,” Piper muttered, glaring at her.

Oliver clapped his hands together. “Marla! You’re here too! Oh man, it’s like a full-on reunion. The President and her First Officer of Snacks!”

“Technically, I was Vice President of Snacks,” Marla corrected, grinning.

“And I was Vice President of Pep Talks,” Sidney added proudly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Piper said, crossing her arms. “And I was the one keeping the whole club from turning into complete chaos.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Sidney said earnestly. “You were amazing. Remember when you drafted the Man Fans’ Constitution? ‘To inspire, support, and celebrate Captain Man and Kid Danger, the greatest superhero and sidekick of all time.’ Beautiful stuff.”

Marla nudged Piper. “Don’t forget the loyalty pledge. You made us recite it at the start of every meeting.”

Piper groaned, her cheeks flushing. “Okay, I get it, we were dorks. Can we move on?”

Oliver gasped, clutching his chest. “Dorks? Dorks? Madam President, the Man Fans were a movement. A legacy. You can’t just dismiss that!”

Sidney nodded solemnly. “We carried fanny packs for you, Piper. Fanny packs.”

Marla was laughing so hard she had to lean on Piper for support. “Oh my gosh, this is the best day of my life. How did I forget how dramatic you two are?”

“Dramatic?” Sidney said, affronted. “We’re visionaries!”

“Speaking of vision,” Oliver interjected, pulling out a pair of socks from his bag, “check this out. Sock-Stars! Bold, neon, and superhero-inspired. We’re entrepreneurs now.”

Sidney held up his lime-green fanny packs. “And this is the FannySnack, a revolutionary fanny pack with built-in snack compartments. We’re talking trail mix, gummy bears, maybe even room for a juice box.”

Marla snorted. “And you think superheroes are gonna buy these?”

“Not just superheroes,” Oliver said, undeterred. “Fans. Like us. Remember, Captain Man always said to dream big!”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Captain Man never said that.”

“Well, he should have,” Oliver replied. “Speaking of which, Piper, do you still have his hotline number? I know he’s retired now, but we’re thinking of pitching him a collab—Superhero Socks by Sock-Stars. It’s the crossover nobody saw coming.”

“Yeah, no,” Piper said flatly.

Sidney shrugged. “Fair. But if you change your mind, we’re open to partnerships. Sock-Stars x Piper Hart? It’s got a ring to it.”

Oliver nodded. “We could even do a limited-edition collection inspired by the Man Fans. Lightning bolts, slogans like, ‘Never underestimate a fanny pack,’ that kind of thing.”

Marla was practically doubled over now. “I can’t. Piper, you have to let them do it. For the legacy!”

“No,” Piper said firmly.

“Okay, okay,” Oliver said, holding up his hands in surrender. “But at least think about hosting a Man Fans reunion. We’ve been workshopping some new chants.”

Piper shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You guys haven’t changed at all.”

“And we never will,” Sidney said proudly.

Oliver looked at Piper curiously. “Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve seen you? Last time we talked, I think you threatened to throw a juice box at us. Or maybe it was Jasper? Anyway, what’s up? Still yelling at people, or have you mellowed out?”

Marla snorted behind her hand, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Still yelling, but now I make it more productive,” Piper replied with a smirk. 

"Cool!" Sidney chirped. "So, going back to what we just pitched, you wouldn’t mind if we did a ‘Piper Hart’ edition? Limited run. Exclusive. It could totally take off.” 

“Yeah,” Oliver chimed in. “We could have slogans on them, like ‘Don’t mess with me,’ or ‘I’m not okay!’” 

Piper raised an eyebrow. “You want to put my face on socks?” 

“Not just your face,” Oliver clarified. “Your essence. You know, your energy, your… vibe.” 

Marla leaned over to Piper. “Do you even want to know what your ‘vibe’ looks like on socks?” 

Piper shook her head, biting back a grin. “I think I’ll pass. Thanks, though.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work on you,” Oliver said, looking at Sidney with a wink. “She’ll come around. Everyone will want a piece of the Piper Hart x Sock-Stars collection. Especially once they hear that ‘I’m not okay!’ slogan.”

Marla was still grinning, clearly entertained by the entire idea. “Piper, just think—you could be the next big sock icon. Move over, Captain Man.”

Piper sighed, but couldn’t suppress her grin. “I think I’ve had enough of socks for one lifetime.”

Sidney threw up his hands in dramatic defeat. “Fine! But when you see our socks at the next superhero event, don’t act like you didn’t help us come up with the idea.”

Oliver nodded sagely. “Exactly. It’s the Piper Hart x Sock-Stars Collection—soon to be an international sensation. You’ll be too busy yelling at people to even notice the craze.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Piper said, mostly to get them to drop the subject.

“Cool, cool,” Sidney said, backing away with a thumbs-up. “Well, we better get going. We’ve got a meeting with our sock supplier in twenty minutes.”

As the two walked off, still chatting about their sock empire, Marla turned to Piper, her expression incredulous. “That really just happened.”

Piper shook her head, unable to hide her amusement. “Yep. That’s Oliver and Sidney for you. Some things never change.”

“Well, at least they’re passionate about their socks,” Marla said, linking her arm through Piper’s again. “But I think we should leave before they come back with business cards.”

“Agreed,” Piper said, laughing as they made their way to the next store.

Later that evening, Piper knocked on Ray’s door, the shopping bags clutched tightly in her hands. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the day, but it felt like the weight of it all was starting to press on her chest. After seeing Sidney and Oliver, the last thing she wanted to do was think about them or the Man Fans right now. She needed to focus—focus on the reason she was here today.

The door swung open almost immediately. Ray stood in the doorway, looking a little better than the last time she’d seen him—less tense, though there was a noticeable weariness in his eyes. He gave her a small smile.

“Piper,” he said, stepping aside to let her in. “Glad you made it.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Piper replied, tossing him a quick smile, though her nerves were getting the best of her. “Ready to get this over with.”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Over with? I was thinking we’d make it more of a productive, fun experience. The Man's Nest is waiting, after all.”

“Man’s Nest?” she asked, furrowing her brows. “Don’t you mean Man Cave?”

"No, the Man Cave is… unavailable," he mumbled. "The Man's Nest is the official headquarters for the Danger Force. It's located on top of Mt. Swellview."

Piper looked around, confused. "If it's all the way over at Mt. Swellview, how are we supposed to get there?"

"That's where Miles comes in. He'll teleport us there."

"Teleport..." Piper repeated, her tone sceptical.

Ray chuckled at her disbelief. "Don't worry, I know it sounds a little crazy, but you get used to it. Miles has taken us all over the city without any problems.” He then gave her a knowing grin. “Unless you're scared."

Piper squared her shoulders, the familiar stubborn spark returning to her eyes. "Scared? Of getting teleported? Pfft, please."

Ray smirked, stepping aside to reveal Miles, who was casually leaning against the hallway wall, his hands glowing faintly with energy. The other members of Danger Force stood behind him, looking both amused and curious about how Piper would react.

Miles gave a mock bow. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

Piper rolled her eyes, trying to hide the flicker of nerves that ran through her. “Alright, glow boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“You asked for it,” Miles said with a grin, cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect. He stepped forward, gesturing for her to stand closer. “Just don’t freak out when it feels like your stomach’s doing backflips.”

Piper shot him a skeptical look but moved closer. “If this messes up my hair or anything in these bags, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Noted,” Miles replied, clearly enjoying her attitude. He held out his hand, and she reluctantly took it, clutching her shopping bags tightly with the other.

“Okay, everybody grab on!” Miles called, motioning for the rest of the team to join. Ray, Chapa, Mika, and Bose placed their hands on Miles’ shoulder, creating a small circle around Piper.

“Ready?” Miles asked, his voice casual, though his glowing hands suggested he was already activating his power.

“Ready,” Piper said, steeling herself.

In an instant, a wave of warmth surrounded her, followed by a strange pulling sensation, like being yanked through a vacuum. Her vision blurred as the hallway around them dissolved into streaks of color. It was disorienting but not unbearable, and just as she was starting to feel like she might lose her grip on her bags, the sensation stopped.

When Piper opened her eyes, they were standing in the middle of a massive, high-tech space. The walls were lined with monitors displaying live feeds of the city, and various gadgets and weapons were scattered around. In the center of the room was a towering structure resembling a jungle gym, complete with dangling ropes, moving platforms, and glowing targets.

“Welcome to the Man’s Nest!” Ray announced proudly, gesturing to the room like a game show host. “Pretty sweet, right?”

Piper blinked, looking around in awe despite herself. “This is where you guys hang out?”

“It’s more than a hangout,” Chapa chimed in, folding her arms as she smirked. “It’s where we train, strategize, and save the world. No big deal.”

“Yeah,” Bose added enthusiastically. “And there’s snacks!” He gestured to the auto-snacker machine in the corner.

As Piper and the team started settling into the Man’s Nest, Ray took a few steps away, letting the others get into position. His eyes roamed the room, taking in every detail—the glowing monitors, the high-tech equipment, the slightly chaotic mess that only he had once been able to navigate. It was all still there, just as he had left it. Yet, something felt… different.

He ran a hand over one of the consoles, his fingers brushing dust that had settled in the corners. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind him that two years had passed since this place had been his sanctuary, his war room, his home.

“Ray?” Piper’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was watching him, one eyebrow raised. “You okay?”

Ray gave a short nod and forced a smile. “Yeah, yeah. It's just... been a while.”

Bose, catching the moment, walked over and clapped Ray on the back. “Bet it feels weird, huh? Coming back here after all this time?”

Ray exhaled sharply, a small chuckle escaping. “Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it. I spent years in this place. Fought battles, trained heroes, made… a lot of mistakes.” His voice wavered slightly, and he cleared his throat. “Leaving it was the right thing to do at the time, but stepping back in now…”

He trailed off, his gaze landing on the main display, where a live feed of Swellview’s skyline flickered. It hit him all at once—the memories, the weight of responsibility, the pride of keeping his city safe. He swallowed hard.

“This place means a lot to me,” he admitted softly, more to himself than anyone else. “But when you four took over, I thought… maybe it didn’t need me anymore.”

The room grew quieter as the team listened, their usual playful banter subdued by the vulnerability in Ray’s voice.

“You know, we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” Mika said suddenly, her tone unusually sincere. “The Danger Force, this whole operation—it’s all because of you. You didn’t leave because you weren’t needed. You left because you trusted us.”

Ray turned to look at her, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude. “Thanks, Mika,” he said quietly. “I just… I didn’t expect to be back. Not like this.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Piper said, stepping forward. “You’ve still got stuff to teach. And I—” She hesitated, her voice dropping a notch. “I could use the help. You know, if you’re not too rusty.”

The small jab brought a faint smile to Ray’s face, and he straightened up a little. “Rusty? Me? Never.”

He glanced around the room again, the weight in his chest easing slightly. “Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Enough with the nostalgia trip. We’ve got work to do.”

The Danger Force team cheered softly, breaking the heavy mood as they returned to their training stations. Piper smirked, crossing her arms. “See? Not so bad being back, huh?”

Ray gave her a lopsided grin. “Don’t get used to it, Paper. I’m here for you, not for the glory days.”

“Piper,” she said, rolling her eyes at him.

Ray clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s get down to business. You’ve got powers, and we need to figure out exactly what they are, how they work, and what we can do to help you control them. Everyone ready?”

The Danger Force members nodded, each taking their positions around the room. Piper, still adjusting to the surreal environment, found herself being gently guided to the center of the training area.

“So,” Ray said, rubbing his hands together, “Let’s see what you can do.”

Piper stood in the center of the Man’s Nest, suddenly feeling very exposed. She glanced around at the Danger Force members, who were watching her with varying degrees of curiosity and excitement. Even Ray, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, looked intrigued.

She cleared her throat. “Uh… so, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “You tell us. What do you feel when your powers kick in? Anger? Fear? Excitement? Do you glow? Float? Explode?”

Piper frowned. “Gee, thanks for the options. Exploding sounds great.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got shields,” Mika chimed in, tapping a glowing panel on the wall. “You’re not gonna wreck the place. Probably.”

Bose smirked. “Unless you’re like me, and wrecking stuff is your thing.”

“Focus, people,” Ray said, his tone sharp but not unkind. He looked back at Piper. “Piper’s powers are somewhat tied to her emotions – we already know that. She needs help learning how to control them, and we’re not leaving this room until she has a better grip on what she’s working with.”

Piper raised an eyebrow. “No pressure or anything.”

Ray crossed his arms, his expression serious. “You’ve got potential, Piper. But if you can’t control your powers, they’ll control you. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen before. That’s not going to be you.”

His words struck a chord, and Piper nodded slowly. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

Ray gestured toward the training area in the center of the room. It was filled with various targets, obstacles, and equipment that seemed designed to test her abilities. “We’re going to push you—safely. First, we need to see how much control you already have. Mika, shields up. Miles and Bose, monitor her energy levels. Chapa, be ready to ground any surges.”

“And me?” Piper asked, crossing her arms.

“You,” Ray said, his tone steady, “are going to show us what you’ve got.”

Piper squared her shoulders, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in her stomach. She stepped into the training area, her hands at her sides.

“Start by summoning your power,” Ray instructed. “Don’t force it, but don’t hold back either. Think about what triggers it—not the anger or fear, but the feeling of needing to do something. Focus on that.”

Piper frowned. “I can’t just command it. It doesn’t work like that.”

Ray nodded. “Okay, then let’s try to trigger it here—safely. Start with something small. Think about something that bothers you. Like—oh! Remember that time Henry forgot your birthday?”

Piper glared at him. “Wow, thanks for bringing that up.”

“See?” Ray grinned. “Annoyance. That’s a start.”

Piper rolled her eyes but closed them, taking a deep breath. She thought back to the moments her powers had surged—at Ray’s house, when the frustration and fear had boiled over. But instead of focusing on the chaos, she tried to zero in on the spark itself—the energy she’d felt building in her chest before it erupted.

“Something’s happening,” she muttered, opening her eyes. Her hands tingled, faint wisps of energy starting to swirl around her fingertips.

“Whoa!” Miles said, leaning forward. “That looks so cool!”

“Stay focused,” Ray said quickly, stepping closer but keeping his distance. “Can you control it? Direct it somewhere?”

Piper frowned, staring at her hands. “I don’t know. It’s just—” The energy flared suddenly, a small burst shooting from her palm and hitting a nearby target with a loud zap. Everyone jumped, and Piper stumbled back, her heart racing.

“Okay!” Ray shouted, clapping his hands once. “Good news: you’ve got energy blasts. Bad news: your aim needs work.”

Piper stared at her hand, her breathing uneven. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“It’s fine,” Mika said reassuringly. “First time’s always messy. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Yeah,” Chapa added with a grin. “My first time, I accidentally fried all the lights in the Man’s Nest. Bose got zapped too.”

Bose nodded enthusiastically. “True story. My hair was sticking up for hours.”

Piper couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension in her chest easing. She looked back at Ray, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“See? Not so bad,” he said. “You’ve got the power. Now we just need to teach you how to control it.”

Piper glanced at Ray, then back at her hands, the faint tingling of her powers still buzzing beneath her skin. The memory of her earlier outburst at his house lingered in her mind, but she pushed it aside. She had to get this right, to prove to herself—and to them—that she wasn’t some uncontrollable hazard.

“Okay,” she said, steadying her breathing. “One more try.”

“Take it slow,” Ray instructed, his voice calm but watchful. He stood off to the side, arms crossed, ready to step in if things went sideways. “Remember, your powers come from your emotions. Don’t just react—channel them. It’s like aiming a hose. Keep the water flowing, but don’t let it spray everywhere.”

“Right,” Piper muttered, though her nerves prickled. She focused on the target, a stationary glowing disc about ten feet away. The others stood back, giving her space but staying close enough to intervene if needed.

“Just a small blast,” Miles said encouragingly from behind the console. “We’ll monitor the energy levels. No pressure.”

Piper rolled her shoulders and raised her hand, willing the energy to form. Slowly, blue light began to swirl around her palm, warm and alive. She exhaled, guiding the power forward. A small bolt of energy shot out, hitting the target dead center. It crackled and disappeared, leaving the disc unscathed but glowing faintly.

The team erupted into cheers.

“Nice!” Bose said, clapping. “That was solid!”

“Textbook first shot,” Chapa added with a grin. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

Piper smiled despite herself, lowering her hand. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You’re not done yet,” Ray said, his tone a mix of pride and caution. “Try again, but this time, increase the power. Same focus, same control.”

Piper nodded, her confidence growing. She raised her hand again, and the energy returned, brighter this time. It swirled faster, stronger, the heat of it licking at her fingers. She aimed for the target again, but as she pushed the power forward, the warmth turned into a sharp surge, like a dam breaking. The blast shot out in a wide arc, missing the target entirely and slamming into the wall behind it. Sparks flew, and a console near Miles’s station flickered off.

“Whoa!” Miles ducked, his eyes wide. “That’s not in the textbook!”

“Shields!” Ray barked, and Mika quickly raised a glowing barrier between Piper and the rest of the team.

Piper’s heart raced as the energy in her hands refused to fade. Instead, it grew, glowing brighter and pulsing wildly. “I can’t stop it!” she cried, stumbling back.

“Stay calm!” Ray shouted, stepping toward her cautiously. “Breathe, Piper. You’re in control, not the power.”

The glow around Piper’s hands intensified, the wild energy sparking in all directions. One bolt struck the ceiling, sending debris raining down, while another shattered a training dummy. Mika’s shield began to crack under the pressure.

“Ray!” Mika called, her voice strained. “It won’t hold this much longer!”

“Chapa, ground it!” Ray ordered.

“I’m trying!” Chapa yelled, but every time she approached, the surges flared, forcing her back.

Monitors along the walls exploded one by one, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor. The live feeds of Swellview’s skyline fizzled into static before disappearing entirely. Overhead, the central lighting flickered ominously, casting the room into stuttering shadows.

“Watch out!” Chapa screamed as a large piece of equipment broke loose from its mount on the ceiling, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Bose grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the way just in time.

Mika skidded across the floor, narrowly avoiding a cascade of sparks that erupted from the central console. “This is nuts!” she yelled, shielding her face with her arms. “Ray, what do we do?”

Ray didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were locked on Piper, who stood frozen in the middle of the chaos, her body still radiating an uncontrolled, pulsating energy. The floor beneath her feet glowed faintly, the sheer force of her power seeping into the very foundation of the Man’s Nest.

“Piper, shut it down!” Ray called out, his voice firm but urgent. He took a step toward her, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “You have to stop this before—”

Before he could finish, another wave of energy erupted from Piper, this one even more powerful than the first. It swept through the room like a hurricane, toppling chairs, sending equipment flying, and knocking Danger Force off their feet. Ray barely managed to brace himself against the console, his heart pounding as the realization hit him: the Man’s Nest was falling apart.

Ray’s stomach dropped when he saw the main power core in the center of the room—a glowing, cylindrical device that powered the entire facility—beginning to flicker ominously. A thin crack snaked up its surface, glowing red-hot as Piper’s energy continued to destabilize it.

“If that core goes, we’re toast!” Mika yelled, her hands glowing as she tried to contain the damage with a force field. But the field flickered and failed, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of Piper’s power.

Ray’s mind raced. He couldn’t let this escalate any further. He pushed off the console and ran straight toward Piper, dodging debris and sparks as he went.

“Piper, listen to me,” Ray said, his voice firm but steady. He was only a few feet away now. “You’re not going to hurt us. You can do this. Let it out, but aim it—at me.”

“What?” Piper’s eyes widened. “No! I’ll—”

“You won’t,” Ray interrupted. “Trust me. I can take it. I’m indestructible, remember? Just focus. Right here.” He pointed to his chest, locking eyes with her.

Piper hesitated, the storm of energy around her crackling dangerously. Her breathing was ragged, panic threatening to take over. But Ray’s calm, unwavering presence broke through the chaos. She clenched her fists, redirecting the power toward him.

With a final, desperate push, she released it. A beam of blue light shot from her hands, slamming into Ray’s chest. He braced himself, skidding back a few inches before toppling over. The light faded as quickly as it had come, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Piper collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

Ray remained on the floor a little longer before he slowly crawled back up. “I’m okay!” he announced, dusting himself off. He then turned to her. “You did good,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

She shook her head. “I almost wrecked the whole place. I could’ve hurt you. Hurt everyone.”

“But you didn’t,” Ray said, his tone steady. “Because you listened. That’s the first step.”

The team regrouped, surveying the damage. Chapa ran a diagnostic on the consoles, frowning as several remained offline. Mika inspected the shattered shield generator, her expression grim.

“Whoa,” Bose said, his voice hushed. “She wrecked the whole place.”

Miles let out a low whistle. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.”

Mika approached cautiously, her gaze flicking between Piper and the ruined power core. “Uh, we’re gonna need a miracle to fix all this.”

Piper flinched at their words, guilt written all over her face. Still on her knees, her face paled and her eyes filled with guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to—”

Ray didn’t respond immediately. He looked around the devastated room, his chest tightening at the sight of the destruction.

“It’s not your fault,” Ray said firmly, though the weight of the situation was clear in his eyes. He walked over to Piper and helped her to her feet.  “This is on me. I should’ve known better than to put you in this situation.”

He turned to face the rest of the team, his expression resolute. “This isn’t something you guys can handle. Piper’s powers are too unstable, too dangerous. If this happens again—if she loses control—I can’t risk it.”

“What are you saying?” Mika asked, her brow furrowed.

“I’m saying,” Ray replied, his voice heavy with determination, “that this is on me now. I’m taking over her training. Alone.”

The team exchanged surprised glances. “What?” Bose said. “Ray, that’s not—”

“It’s the only option,” he interrupted. “Her powers are tied to her emotions, and I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to feel out of control. I can help her.”

“But we’ve trained people before,” Miles argued. “We can handle it.”

“Not like this,” Ray said firmly. “She needs one-on-one focus, somewhere safe—away from the Nest, away from distractions. I’ll take her to the old Man Cave at Junk-N-Stuff. It’s out of commission, but it’s secure enough for this.”

Piper looked up at him, her expression conflicted. “You’re seriously willing to do that? After what just happened?”

Ray offered her a small, reassuring smile. “You’ve got the potential to do something great, Piper. And yeah, it’s going to take work—hard work. But if you’re willing to try, so am I.”

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Ray turned to the team. “Hold down the fort while we’re gone. Fix what you can and stay ready. I’ll call Schwoz to come and help repair the damages, and I’ll check in when I can.”

The team nodded reluctantly, their usual banter subdued as the weight of the moment sank in. As Ray led Piper toward the tube, she glanced back at the wreckage she’d caused, guilt flickering in her eyes.

“Hey,” Ray said, his tone lighter. “No looking back. From here on out, it’s all forward.”

She managed a small smile, following him into the tube. As they left, the team stood in silence, the reality of what lay ahead sinking in.

“Think she’ll be okay?” Chapa asked quietly.

“She’s got Ray,” Mika said, her voice uncertain but hopeful. “If anyone can help her, it’s him.”

Miles nodded, though his expression was serious. “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4| Taco Therapy

Schwoz’s truck, which was thankfully parked outside the Man’s Nest, hummed steadily as Ray drove through the winding streets of Mt. Swellview, the engine’s low hum filling the silence. The late evening air was crisp, and the dim lights of the city flickered past like fireflies caught in the glow of the headlights. The events of the day, still raw and heavy, clung to Ray’s thoughts.

He glanced over at Piper, who sat stiffly in the passenger seat, staring out the window as though the darkness outside held answers she couldn’t find within herself.

Ray felt the weight of her silence, heavy and loud. He’d been in her shoes before—the fear of losing control, the guilt that came with power. It was written all over her face.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the quiet. His voice was gentle but firm. “You okay?”

Piper didn’t meet his gaze. She exhaled softly, her breath fogging the glass for a brief moment before she muttered, “I don’t know, Ray. Everything’s just a mess right now.”

Her voice cracked, and Ray’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He’d seen that same look on Henry’s face, long ago—the weight of responsibility pressing down too hard, too fast. Piper might have been younger, but she was carrying the same burden.

“I get it,” he said, his tone even, steady. “But listen to me, Piper. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. You didn’t hurt anyone. You didn’t cause any permanent damage. That’s the important part. We’ll figure this out.”

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I almost did. I wrecked the Man’s Nest. That’s not something you can just brush off.”

Ray sighed, his eyes flicking toward her briefly before refocusing on the road. “It’s not about the damage. It’s about understanding what happened and how to prevent it in the future. This is part of the process. You can’t fix something you don’t understand. That’s what I’m here for—to help you figure it out.”

Her fingers drummed nervously against her jeans, her movements fidgety and restless. Ray recognized the signs—Piper didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to feel like she was always causing trouble. That fear of failure was eating at her, and Ray wasn’t going to let her spiral.

“Look,” Ray continued, trying to lift the tension. “It’s just the Man’s Nest, right? Not like it’s my house. Besides, Schwoz can probably fix it with some duct tape, a rubber band and a little bit of his weird space-age glitter.”

Piper didn’t smile. She just stared out the window.

Ray sighed again, knowing he needed to find a way to break through. He could feel the weight of the silence again, like it was settling between them, thicker than the fog on the windshield.

“You don’t have to do this, Ray,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter, tinged with doubt. He glanced over at her. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take over training me. What if I mess up again?”

Ray’s heart softened. This wasn’t about the Man’s Nest or the training; it was about her struggling with feeling like a failure. But instead of getting all serious and dramatic like some motivational speaker (who, let’s be honest, he could never pull off), he just gave her the Ray-style pep talk.

“You won’t,” he said firmly. Then, as if to lighten the mood, he added, “Trust me. You remember that time I tried to help Schwoz make an invisibility serum, and it made me invisible—but only from the shoulders down?”

Piper blinked, a confused expression on her face. “You were invisible from the shoulders down?”

Ray nodded, keeping a completely straight face. “Yup. Spent the whole day walking around like a floating head. It was really effective when fighting bad guys, though.”

Piper stared at him, trying not to laugh. “I can’t believe that’s a real thing that happened.”

Ray shrugged nonchalantly. “I know, right? But the point is, you’ll make mistakes, but it doesn’t define you. We learn from it, we fix it, and we move forward. You’re not going through this alone. I’m here, Schwoz will be here, and we’ve got your back.”

She bit her lip, her fingers still tapping nervously against her jeans. Then, a slow smile began to creep onto her face.

Ray grinned. “See? I knew a little humor would do the trick. You’ve got this, Piper. You just need to trust yourself. Seriously, I’ve seen you take on way worse situations than this. You’re one of the most confident people I know—a little annoying, but that’s part of your charm.”

Piper rolled her eyes at the ‘annoying’ comment, but the corners of her mouth twitched into something closer to a grin.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she muttered.

Ray’s face lit up with that goofy grin of his, the one that made everything seem a little less intense. “You love me. It’s the Ray effect. Can’t resist the charm. You’ll see.”

Piper shot him a playful side-eye. “More like a human disaster.”

Ray raised his hands in mock offense. “Wow. I can’t believe you just said that. You know, you’re lucky you have me. Without me, you’d still be stuck trying to figure out how to use your powers without blowing up random buildings.”

Piper gave him a playful shove. “Okay, okay, fair point.”

“And remember this,” Ray added, turning onto a quieter street, the lights of the city reflecting on the windshield. “Even if you do mess up again, it’s okay. We’ll fix it, laugh about it, and maybe even have a taco or two.”

Piper blinked. “Tacos? Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ray said, dead serious. “Taco therapy. It’s scientifically proven to cure everything. Stress, fear, and bad decisions. Believe me, I’ve done the research.”

She couldn’t help it—she laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

Ray gave her a look, “You can Google it later, but you’re going to find out I’m right. The taco power is real.”

Piper rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile. “Alright, alright. Taco therapy, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ray said, flashing her a grin. “And you’re gonna be just fine. I mean, you can’t be any worse than me, right?”

Piper smirked. “Well, I’ll give you that. You’re definitely something.”

Ray shrugged dramatically, like he was the greatest gift to humanity. “I try. And trust me, Piper, no one messes up quite like I do. It’s a gift. You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes, but now there was a genuine warmth in her expression, a softness that Ray hadn’t seen since the whole mess began. The weight of her worries was still there, but she wasn’t drowning in it anymore. Maybe it was the humor, maybe it was the tacos—or maybe it was just Ray’s unshakeable confidence in her.

“So,” Ray continued, “how about this: You trust me. I train you. And we get through this together, one accidental floating head incident at a time. Sound good?”

Piper leaned back in her seat, letting out a long breath, her shoulders loosening. “Yeah. I think I can handle that.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a few moments, the quiet almost calming in its stillness. Ray finally turned onto a familiar road, the lights of his house just ahead. The comforting sight of home, with its soft glow spilling from the windows, offered a sense of calm that neither of them had felt in hours. It was as if they had crossed some invisible threshold from chaos to peace.

He slowed as they approached the driveway, his mind momentarily distracted by the thought of dinner. Credenza had promised to cook something hearty tonight, and after the rollercoaster of emotions they’d both just endured, the idea of a home-cooked meal sounded like heaven.

As he parked the truck, he glanced over at Piper, who had yet to say another word. “You hungry?”

Piper nodded. “I could eat.”

Ray grinned, relieved. “Let’s head in then. Credenza’s cooking, and I’m not sure about you, but I’m starving.”

Piper followed him up the driveway and toward the house. Ray opened the door to the familiar sounds of his girlfriend and her son in the kitchen.

Buddy, who was setting the table, turned to grin at them. “Hey, you two! How did the training go?”

Ray gave Buddy a tired smile as he stepped inside, brushing off his jacket. “It was... eventful,” he said, his tone light but carrying the weight of the day’s events. “Piper’s still working through some stuff.”

Piper, still lost in her own thoughts, gave a small wave to Buddy but didn’t say much. She was too preoccupied with everything that had happened.

Credenza, who was stirring something on the stove, glanced over her shoulder with a warm smile. “I’m glad you could join us, Piper! I made something hearty tonight—should help take the edge off after your first training session.”

Piper didn’t respond immediately but gave a small nod and smile. The warmth of the house was calming, and the scent of the meal filled the air, a welcome distraction. She had to admit, even though she wasn’t in the mood to eat, the idea of a home-cooked meal was comforting.

“You have no idea how much I need this,” Ray said, setting his keys on the table as he turned to Credenza. “You’re a lifesaver.”

They sat down at the table, and Piper immediately noticed something odd—there was an extra plate set out. It was positioned next to Buddy's spot at the table, but something about it felt oddly out of place.

“What’s with the extra plate?” she asked, eyes flicking from the plate to Ray. “Are we expecting someone?”

Ray, taking a seat, looked around casually. “Uh, yeah, actually. We’ve got a guest.”

Before Piper could respond, the doorbell rang. Ray glanced at her, then at the door. “Ah, speak of the devil.”

He crossed the room and opened the door. Standing on the other side was Drex. The sight of him wasn’t shocking—not anymore—but Ray braced himself for Piper’s reaction.

And she didn’t disappoint.

The lights flickered violently, and Piper staggered back, her face pale. “Drex?” she gasped, her voice shaky. “What’s he doing here? He—he fought Henry! He’s dangerous!”

“Relax, kid,” Drex said, stepping inside with an easy smirk. “I’m not here to fight.”

Ray immediately raised a hand, trying to calm her down. He knew how this was going to look, how she was going to react. "Piper, it’s fine,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “Drex isn’t a threat anymore.”

“What?” Piper’s voice was sharp, her eyes wide. “He’s not? What do you mean? He tried to destroy my brother, almost killed him, and now you’re telling me he’s not a threat?”

“Hey, Dad!” Buddy cut in, greeting his dad with a warm smile.

Piper blinked, her brain trying to process what she’d just heard. "Dad?" Her voice wavered slightly as she stared at Buddy, who was now casually sitting down and acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She looked between him and Drex, her confusion deepening.

Ray, sensing the escalating tension, stepped in quickly. "Yeah, Piper... about that. So, Drex here is Buddy’s dad. Long story short, Drex and Credenza used to be married. You should also know that Drex and I came to an understanding a while ago. He’s not the guy you remember.”

Piper’s gaze snapped to Credenza, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Wait, wait, wait," she stammered, holding up her hands as if trying to physically stop the conversation. "You’re telling me Drex—Drex—is Buddy’s dad? The same Drex who tried to blow up Swellview, who fought Henry, who almost killed all of us? That Drex?"

Drex, who had already dished himself a large portion of pasta, leaned back in his chair, looking completely unfazed. "You’re Henry’s sister?” He raised an eyebrow, before jerking a thumb toward Ray. “In case you didn’t get the memo, Ray and I are best buds now. But don’t tell your brother—he might get jealous.”

Ray watched as Piper’s jaw dropped. “Friends? You two? How is that even possible?” Her voice was high-pitched, tinged with disbelief.

Drex gave her a sideways grin, the expression mischievous and almost fond. “It’s a long story. But we’ve bonded. Therapy, community service, and a few heartfelt ‘man hugs’ have done wonders for my soul. If you ask me, you’ll find that Ray’s the real miracle worker here.”

Piper shook her head, trying to process everything at once. “This is insane,” she muttered under her breath.

She narrowed her eyes at Drex, who was still grinning like this was some sort of joke. Then she turned to Ray, her expression full of disbelief. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

Ray just shrugged, an almost apologetic look in his eyes as he answered nonchalantly. “We hashed it out. Sometimes, enemies become friends. It’s called growth.”

Piper scoffed, incredulous. “I think it’s called insanity.”

Drex laughed, clearly amused by Piper’s antics. “Hey, don’t knock it. We went from mortal enemies to brunch buddies. It’s all about evolving.”

Piper’s eyes narrowed, sarcasm dripping from her words as she shot Drex a withering look. “Brunch buddies? Was that before or after you tried to take my brother down?”

Drex shrugged with a smirk, looking unbothered. “Eh, details. But you know what? I like this girl,” he said, nodding toward Piper with a sly grin. “She’s got spunk. Unlike her brother.”

Ray shot Drex a warning look, though it was tinged with a faint amusement that Piper couldn’t quite understand. “Careful, Drex. Piper’s still learning how to control her powers. You don’t want to be her practice dummy.”

Piper’s glare could have burned through steel. “Don’t tempt me,” she said, her voice sharp with warning, the flickering lights above her a reminder of just how unpredictable her powers were.

Drex chuckled lightly, clearly entertained by her sharpness. Ray shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched the exchange. It was clear he was more entertained than concerned by the tension.

Buddy, trying to lighten the mood, grinned at Piper. "Yeah, the worst thing Dad’s gonna do tonight is maybe eat too much pasta. He’s on a redemption arc. Like, totally a work in progress."

Drex snorted from across the table. "Hey, I’m allowed to have seconds, okay? Besides, I come in peace," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He nodded toward Credenza, who was watching with a sharp, knowing expression. “Besides, I know better than to start something in Cred’s presence.”

Credenza’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes reflecting her humor. “Damn right, you do,” she said, her voice playful. “I’ll kick your ass into next week if you start anything.”

“Yes, dear,” Drex said with a cheeky grin, clearly unaffected by Credenza’s words.

The sight of Drex and Credenza in the same room was surreal for Piper. She couldn’t quite fathom how the two of them—who had history together—could be so… normal. She glanced at Ray, who seemed almost unbothered by the entire situation. He caught her gaze, offering a reassuring nod as if this was all just another ordinary day.

The next morning, Piper sat at the kitchen table, her phone in hand, as she replied to some messages from James. Her dad walked in, holding a bowl of cereal and looking as casual as ever. He glanced at the pile of empty cups and snack wrappers scattered around the counter.

“Piper, seriously,” Jake said, his tone laced with annoyance. “How many cups of coffee do you need in one morning? This kitchen is starting to look like a caffeine experiment gone wrong.”

Piper shot him a look, not even bothering to glance up from her phone. “It’s not coffee, Dad. It’s tea. Green tea. Very different.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Green tea? It’s basically the same thing! A bunch of leaves in hot water. If you keep drinking it at this rate, you’ll turn into a plant.”

“I’m not going to turn into a plant,” Piper grumbled. “That’s not how tea works. It’s just... okay, maybe I drink a lot of it, but it helps me focus. Unlike you, who just wanders around the house talking about ‘adulting’ without ever actually getting anything done.”

Jake leaned against the counter with his bowl of cereal, looking at her with mock disbelief. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you say I don’t get anything done? I’m a project manager! I get things done all the time. I’m the one keeping this house running. I am the one who has to handle the mail, the groceries, and—”

Piper interrupted, “Yeah, and you’re the one who accidentally subscribed to that ‘World’s Best Grandpa’ magazine. Again. And you don’t even have grandchildren!”

Jake waved his spoon around in defense. “It’s an accident! And besides, I like getting mail that’s addressed to someone who respects authority. Unlike you with your constant entitled attitude!”

Piper rolled her eyes, setting her phone down. “My ‘entitled’ attitude is called ‘thinking for myself,’ Dad. You should try it sometime.”

Jake leaned in, about to fire back with another comment, when suddenly, a loud knock echoed from the front door.

“Thank goodness,” Piper muttered, clearly relieved for the interruption. “Maybe the mailman will come and tell you to stop subscribing to ridiculous magazines.”

Jake smirked. “Maybe it’s the ‘World’s Best Dad’ magazine. You never know.”

Piper shot him a look, then turned to the door. “I’ll get it,” she said, heading toward the front entrance.

When she opened the door, her eyes widened in surprise. Standing there was none other than Schwoz, wearing a mismatched jacket, sunglasses, and holding what looked like a backpack full of wires and gadgets.

“Schwoz?” Piper exclaimed, eyes lighting up with surprise. “You actually came.”

“Of course I came!” Schwoz beamed, hugging her like he’d just finished building a bomb and was very proud of it. “You called, I packed a bag, and I even got a free flight because I bartered a flamethrower. Don’t ask.”

She let out a startled laugh and hugged him back, burying her face into his chaos-covered shoulder.

“You smell like a soldering iron and Cheetos,” she mumbled.

“Thank you!” Schwoz beamed as they pulled apart. “Compliment accepted!”

Piper grinned, overwhelmed but weirdly comforted. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland… or Guam… or underwater.”

“I was!” Schwoz said proudly, stepping inside like he lived there. “But your phone call worried me. Also, Ray sent me a voice memo that just said ‘HELP. HER. NOW.’ So, naturally, I packed my emotional support tools and came straight here.”

He yanked the oversized backpack off his shoulders, set it down with a thud, and unzipped it like it contained the fate of the world. Piper immediately saw a tangle of wires, blinking lights, and what may or may not have been a lint roller duct-taped to a juicer.

She folded her arms, eyes narrowing in mock horror. “You brought a bomb to my living room, didn’t you.”

“Not a bomb,” Schwoz said, scandalized. “It’s a portable energy analyzer with only a slight chance of exploding if you hiccup too hard.”

She snorted. “Oh, that’s much better.”

From the living room, Jake called, “Do I need to leave before Schwoz vaporizes my coffee table?”

“Relax, Dad,” Piper yelled back. “He’s harmless—mostly.”

Jake peeked around the corner, raised a skeptical eyebrow, and muttered, “That’s what they said about raccoons before they discovered garbage.”

“Ah!” Schwoz perked up. “Jake! Is it true that you subscribed to Mild sauce quarterly?”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that?”

Piper and Schwoz said in perfect unison: “Charlotte.”

Jake disappeared upstairs, muttering something about switching to Mild Sauce Digest for privacy.

Piper turned back to Schwoz, arms crossed. “Okay, truth. Did Ray really call you?”

“Well… technically, no.” Schwoz pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. “He tried to ‘handle it himself’ but sounded so tired I thought he was glitching. So I checked the Nest logs, did a light background scan on your stress levels—don't worry, it was only semi-invasive—and immediately booked a red-eye flight using my emergency scientist voucher.”

Piper blinked. “You still had one of those?”

“I have seventeen of those,” Schwoz said proudly. “Now. Let me plug in this very safe, barely flammable machine before Ray arrives and starts monologuing about how much he hates Channing Tatum again.”

Before she could process what was happening, Schwoz wheeled in a large machine, which had wires and tubes connecting to several other gadgets, and a half-eaten banana taped to a voltage meter. He set the machine on the coffee table by her couch and flopped down onto the cushioned seats, wiping his brow as if he had just moved a mountain.

“Uh, Schwoz,” Piper began, looking at the machine dubiously. “Did you just bring half of your lab with you?”

“Ah, yes, yes!” Schwoz said with a dramatic flourish. “This, my friend, is The Power Analyzer 5000!” He patted the machine proudly, causing a few wires to wobble dangerously. “This baby is going to help us figure out exactly what’s going on with your powers. It’s got sensors, analyzers, and a couple of gadgets I may have borrowed from my old time-traveling experiments. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe!”

Piper raised an eyebrow. “Is the banana part of the design or…?”

“It’s for scale,” Schwoz said seriously. Then added, “Also lunch.”

He began fiddling with the machine at breakneck speed, humming what sounded like a dubstep remix of Beethoven’s 5th. Piper watched, arms crossed but lips twitching.

“So,” she said cautiously, “you’re really gonna try to measure my powers? Even though last time you tried to ‘measure’ Henry’s velocity, you built a slingshot that put him through the Hart family trampoline?”

“That was an accident,” Schwoz said with great dignity. “And a scientific triumph. He bounced eleven times.”

He twisted a dial, slapped a screen, and stepped back as the machine powered up with a dramatic hum and an unprompted puff of glitter. Piper blinked.

“…Why does it sparkle?”

“Everything works better with sparkle!” Schwoz said brightly. “Now sit! Sit on the couch like you are royalty about to have your magical signature analyzed. Also, don’t touch anything yellow.”

She flopped onto the couch with a groan. “I swear, if this thing fries my eyebrows—”

“They’ll grow back!” Schwoz said cheerfully, strapping a band around her wrist. “Now—focus. Slowly channel your energy into the sensor. Just like we practiced during ‘Guess That Chemical Reaction,’ except no guessing. Or chemicals.”

Piper took a breath. The familiar hum rose in her chest—wild, vibrating, anxious. But this time, she wasn’t alone. Schwoz was next to her, watching with that strange combination of chaos and total belief that had always made her feel a little braver.

She placed her fingers on the small energy pad, and the machine lit up with soft green pulses.

“Good… good…” Schwoz murmured, tweaking something. “Your levels are stable. Power fluctuations within expected—”

The front door swung open.

“Okay,” Ray announced, strolling in with two bags of chips and a Gatorade, “who summoned the Mad Scientist of Glitter and Doom without telling me?”

Schwoz didn’t look up. “Hello, Raymond.”

“Schwoz,” Ray said dryly. “You’ve turned my best friend’s house into a RadioShack rave again.”

Piper, not moving her fingers, called over her shoulder. “Shut it. We’re doing science.”

Ray stopped mid-step, staring at the neon tangle of Schwoz’s machine.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ray said around a mouthful of chips. “You brought the toaster blender from hell?”

Schwoz beamed proudly. “You’ve arrived just in time to witness a glorious breakthrough.”

“I came for my keys,” Ray muttered, lifting his gatorade to his mouth. “And Takis.”

“You live three blocks away,” Piper said. “Couldn’t wait?”

“I was hungry,” Ray said, looking mildly offended. “Also, I had a bad feeling. I walked in and — yep — Schwoz brought something that hums like an anxiety dream.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t invent it,” Schwoz said smugly, adjusting a dial.

Ray tossed the chips onto the coffee table. “Just so we’re clear, if any part of her explodes, I’m blaming both of you and also sending you a bill for emotional damages.”

“No explosions!” Schwoz said, insulted. “I upgraded everything to ‘safe-ish’ mode. Look—tripled insulation, circuit dampeners, reinforced snack shelf—”

“Wait. Snack shelf?” Piper asked.

Schwoz flipped open a hidden compartment to reveal a single chocolate chip granola bar. “For post-test celebration. I got your favorite.”

Piper blinked. “That’s either very sweet or mildly terrifying.”

Ray sat on the arm of the couch, watching the readings. “So, how’s it going? Is she still a walking lightning rod or are we making progress?”

“She is magnificent,” Schwoz said solemnly. “Also wildly unstable. Like a black hole that tells jokes.”

“Sounds about right,” Ray muttered.

Ignoring him, Piper closed her eyes, and for a moment, all she could feel was the familiar tingling in her chest—the energy, constantly swirling just beneath the surface. She took a deep breath, trying to channel it, to focus it. Ever since the last incident, she was determined more than ever to control it.

The machine began to beep more rapidly, and the lights shifted from green to blue as it processed the energy readings.

“Good, good,” Schwoz muttered, watching intently. “Keep it steady, Piper. Nice and calm.”

Piper opened her eyes slightly and concentrated harder. She could feel the energy beginning to form into something more solid—something she could hold. It wasn’t perfect, but it was manageable.

Ray glanced over at Schwoz. “Well, so far, no explosions. That’s a win.”

“Don’t jinx it, Ray,” Piper muttered, still focused on the device. “I’m trying to keep it under control.”

“I’m just saying, I did see a light show last time. This is a big improvement,” Ray replied, his tone almost mocking but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

Schwoz, however, was clearly absorbed in the process, his face lighting up as he watched the readouts. “Piper, you’re doing it! Your energy is stabilizing. This is incredible!”

Piper smiled, feeling a surge of pride. It was strange, trying to control something that had previously felt uncontrollable. But here, with Schwoz and the technology he provided, she felt a weird sort of comfort.

“It’s working. I can actually control it.”

The machine let out a triumphant beep, and Schwoz clapped his hands together. “Success! We’ve reached the first milestone! You’re not just flinging energy around anymore. You’re controlling it.”

Ray gave a slow, impressed nod. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit it. You’re actually getting somewhere.”

Piper stood up and let out a small breath, her shoulders relaxing. “Thanks, Schwoz. I didn’t think it would be this... easy.”

Schwoz chuckled. “Easy? Not easy, but with the right guidance—and a lot of cool gadgets—it’s totally doable! And you, Piper, are already a natural!”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “A natural? I’m just glad we didn’t have to call the fire department.”

Piper shot Ray a playful glare. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still working on it.”

At that moment, the machine let out an unsettling series of beeps, and the lights started flashing erratically. Schwoz’s confident grin faded into a look of confusion. “Uh... Piper? On second thought, maybe focus a little less.”

Piper’s brow furrowed. “What’s happening? I thought it was working.”

Schwoz frantically fiddled with the dials. “It should be! But—wait, wait!” The lights flickered wildly, the machine sputtered, and then... nothing. Just an ominous silence.

“Uh, I think the machine just... gave up,” Ray remarked flatly, his arms crossed. “First rule of Schwoz Tech—never trust anything that looks like it was assembled during an all-nighter.”

Piper’s shoulders slumped. “Seriously, Schwoz? We were this close. I could actually feel the control for a second. What happened?”

Schwoz pulled out a screwdriver from his pocket and began to unscrew the side panel, his hands moving with a casual precision. “Oh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he muttered. “I just need to recalibrate the sensors. Something is... um... misaligned.”

“Misaligned?” Ray repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that after all that work, you can’t even get it right? You’ve been to space, Schwoz! You’ve time-traveled! How does a machine that just needs to measure energy get misaligned?”

“Well, Ray,” Schwoz said, still poking around inside the machine. “When you’re dealing with technology that was specifically made by me, things are bound to get a little... unpredictable.”

Ray snickered. “Unpredictable? That’s one way to put it. The only thing predictable about Schwoz’s inventions is that they’re going to break or explode... or both. Usually in that order.”

Piper snorted, despite herself.

Schwoz finally removed the panel and peered inside. “Ah, I see the problem! The power stabilizer was not set to 'Safe-ish Mode' after all, but 'Explosive Fun Mode." He adjusted a few wires with a flourish. “I’ll just switch that around and we’ll be good to go!”

Ray looked over at Piper with an exaggerated side-eye. “Explosive Fun Mode? Is that a setting you can just choose for something to explode? I mean, that’s my kind of fun, but…”

“Ah, don’t worry about it!” Schwoz said cheerfully, not missing a beat. “Just a tiny mix-up! Happens all the time. In fact, I once accidentally made a toaster that shot toast at lightning speed. It was very fun, except for the part where it left a permanent hole in the ceiling. But we’re past that now. Look at me, I’m practically an expert!”

Ray shot Schwoz a deadpan look. “You’re a walking disaster, Schwoz. How you manage to get anything done is beyond me.”

Schwoz beamed proudly. “It’s all about confidence and not paying attention to the consequences. You should try it sometime, Ray. I’m sure your punching abilities would benefit!”

Ray rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I really want to throw something at you right now,” he grumbled under his breath.

Schwoz finally twisted the last screw into place and slapped the side of the machine with satisfaction. “There! All fixed! No more ‘Explosive Fun Mode.’”

Ray gave Piper a skeptical look, then nodded. “Okay, Schwoz. Do your thing. But if it doesn’t work, you owe me a vacation. And I want an all-inclusive resort with beach access and unlimited nachos.”

“What is your obsession with Mexican food?” Piper asked him, rolling her eyes, before turning to Schwoz.

Schwoz flashed a thumbs-up. “Great! Now, Piper, just focus again. We’ll try this one more time. Slowly and steadily. No explosions. Promise.”

Piper closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon her powers once more. As her focus deepened, she felt the familiar hum in her chest. It was the energy again, swirling just beneath the surface. She breathed out slowly, trying to guide it.

The machine beeped again, its lights flickering to life—but this time, it was a strange, irregular pattern. The readouts were jumping all over the place. Bzzt, beep, bzzzt, beep. Schwoz’s face fell as he examined the readouts.

“Well, that’s not right,” Schwoz muttered, tapping the screen. “The energy output is... fluctuating. It’s... too erratic. This isn’t what I expected.”

Ray leaned in, squinting at the screen. “You mean it’s still not working? I thought you said you had this thing calibrated.”

“I did!” Schwoz insisted. “But her powers... they’re more complicated than I thought! It’s like trying to catch a tornado with a spoon.”

Piper raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who made this thing!”

“Piper,” Schwoz said seriously, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I think... I think you’re a power anomaly. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Your energy is... unpredictable.”

Ray smirked. “Wow, Schwoz. You finally figured that out? I could’ve told you that three days ago.”

Schwoz ignored him and continued. “Yes, yes, Ray. I know. But now we must adjust! You’re getting stronger, Piper. But the output is still far too erratic.” He scratched his bald head. “We’ll need to recalibrate the machine again.”

Ray shook his head. “We can’t keep calibrating the machine over and over again, Schwoz. It’s not the machine. It’s Piper.” 

He turned to her, his tone shifting, becoming a little more stern. “Look, I get it. You’re frustrated. You’re dealing with some crazy powers, but you can’t let your emotions control them. You’ve got to stay calm.”

Piper crossed her arms, her frustration boiling over. “You think I don’t know that? I’m trying, but it’s not like I can just flip a switch and make this all go away, Ray!”

Ray sighed and rubbed his temples. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying, you’ve got to reign it in. No more explosions, no more random electricity bursts. Piper, you need to control it – otherwise, we’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Yeah, great. And if I don’t? What happens then?” Piper shot back, her voice rising.

“Then you cause another blackout and end up electrocuting someone, maybe even worse.” Ray was blunt, his tone tough but not unkind.

He was trying to help, but Piper wasn’t in the mood for tough love. She wanted to shout that she was trying, but she knew Ray didn’t mean to undermine her. He was just worried. But that didn’t make her feel any better. Instead, it made the weight of her own helplessness crash down on her. She could feel the energy inside her like a storm just waiting to break free. It was terrifying.

Piper opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a strange noise came from the machine.  Schwoz spun around, his eyes widening as he stared at the console. The lights flickered again, but this time, the machine didn’t power down.

“Wait –” Schwoz murmured, leaning in closer. His fingers flew over the keyboard as the hum in the room grew louder. “What is this? This isn’t right –”

Piper looked over at Schwoz, sensing the shift in the air. “What’s happening? Did I do something?”

“No, no, it’s not you!” Schwoz said, his voice growing increasingly tense. “It’s your energy. It’s triggering something in the system, but it’s not from the machine. Something’s – something’s reacting to it. Something outside of this room.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Outside the room? You mean like – what, someone’s watching us?”

Piper’s pulse quickened at the thought.

Schwoz didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kept tapping frantically at the console, his face twisted in confusion. “This is… impossible. The energy is pinging something else. But it’s not any system I know. It’s too complex. Too deliberate.”

Ray’s stomach dropped. “You’re telling me someone – something – is tracking her?”

Schwoz’s voice grew quiet. “I think so. This pattern… it’s like a signal. Like it’s responding to Piper’s powers.”

Piper’s breath caught in her throat. “Who’s tracking me?” she asked, panic creeping into her voice. She glanced between Ray and Schwoz. “Who’s out there?”

Ray’s eyes hardened. “Whoever they are, they’re not friendly.” He stepped between Piper and the machine, eyes sharp now. “Shut it down. Kill everything. Now.”

Schwoz pulled at a wire on the machine. “I’m trying, but it’s not that simple. The signal is too embedded. I can’t break the connection without risking more exposure.”

Just then, the machine made a high-pitched whine, and the screen flashed red. A new message blinked across the screen: POTENTIAL EXTERNAL CONNECTION DETECTED.

Raw’s jaw tightened. “This is bad.”

Schwoz nodded grimly. “Very bad. We’ve attracted attention. And it’s not just from the machine – it’s from something much bigger.”

The hum of the machine suddenly cut off, leaving the room in a heavy silence. The lights flickered one last time before stabilizing, but the air between them felt thick with uncertainty.

Piper’s heart raced. “What now? Are we–are we being watched? Am I being watched?”

Schwoz stepped away from the console, his eyes filled with worry. “For now, we’re safe. But that signal – it’s not something we can ignore. Whoever – or whatever – is out there knows we’re here. They know about you.”

Her blood ran cold at his words. Ray turned to Piper, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“We need to figure out what’s causing these energy bursts of yours, and fast. Before whoever’s tracking you gets any closer.” He paused, looking back at Schwoz. “And we need to make sure that machine doesn’t do that again.”

Piper nodded, her mind racing. “How? What if… what if it happens again?”

Schwoz shook his head. “We’ll do everything we can to stop it. But right now, we need to be careful. We don’t know who or what is on the other end of that signal.”

As the room fell silent once again, Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. The threat was out there, somewhere, and now her powers were drawing her closer.

.

Meanwhile, in Dystopia...

Blackout’s boots echoed through the cold, metallic corridors of Eclipse Industries, each step purposeful, each stride measured. He had received only a single-worded summons that day.

Come.

Nothing more. No explanations. No details. The silence of the command spoke volumes. His presence was required. That was all.

The air in the headquarters felt heavy, as if the very walls were charged with something unseen, something ominous. As he walked, the low hum of the building’s power systems seemed to pulse with an eerie rhythm. He knew what it meant to be called. It wasn’t often, but when it happened, it meant something was coming. Something big. Something he couldn’t yet see.

When he arrived, he waited. The clock ticked on, but Blackout stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the door ahead. His mind sifted through possibilities, his instincts already on high alert. He didn’t have to wait long. The moment the door slid open, the attendant’s voice cut through the quiet like a knife.

“The council will see you now.”

Blackout stepped into the conference room, his shadow falling across the polished floors. There they were: the council. The most powerful individuals in Eclipse Industries, their faces bathed in the soft glow of high-tech screens, each one absorbed in their own world. Each one a presence in and of itself. The room was still, like the calm before a storm, the tension in the air palpable.

He took his place in front of them, his posture rigid, his gaze unwavering. There were no pleasantries. No introductions. Only the heavy weight of their scrutiny.

"Blackout," Silas Crowe’s voice cut through the silence. It was low, deliberate, the words heavy with purpose.

Crowe, the leader of the council, the man who rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary. His icy blue eyes fixed on Blackout, as though peeling back the layers of his mind with a single glance. A master of control. A master of secrets.

Blackout nodded once, his expression neutral, his mind sharpening. This wasn’t just a briefing. This was a directive.

"I trust you’re aware of the situation in Swellview?" Silas continued, his tone a question veiled in expectation.

"I’ve heard the reports," Blackout replied, his voice calm but measured. "Uncontrolled energy surges. Weird anomalies throughout the city. But no one has been able to pinpoint the cause."

Silas’s gaze didn’t waver, the weight of his stare almost unbearable. "Exactly. The surges are significant. It’s as if someone is tapping into a power source, but it’s erratic—unpredictable. And it’s increasing." He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table, his fingers steepled in quiet contemplation. "We need to know what’s behind this. Before it spirals further."

Blackout’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. The situation was murky. Too many variables, too much uncertainty. He could sense that something was... off.

"Has anyone been able to identify the source?" Blackout asked, his voice tightening with suspicion. The shadows of his past experiences danced at the edge of his mind, whispers of hunts past, targets that always slipped through his fingers. But this... this felt different.

"Not yet," Silas answered, his voice colder than before. "But we believe it’s connected to a person. Someone with abilities that are... uncontained. A person who may not even be aware of the power they’re wielding." 

His eyes flickered for a moment, as though considering the weight of the words before continuing, his gaze drifting to the others at the table. "We’ve tried tracking the energy signature, but it’s too volatile. Too erratic."

Uncontained? The word struck Blackout like a spark to dry tinder. He understood volatility. He understood erratic behavior. But someone who doesn’t even know what they can do? The thought lingered in his mind. He had dealt with individuals like this before. Unpredictable. Dangerous.

"Do you want me to find this person?" Blackout’s voice was sharp now, each syllable a thread of intention.

Silas’s lips twitched ever so slightly into what could almost be called a smile. "Yes. We need you to track them. Understand who they are, what they can do. And most importantly, we need to keep them off the radar." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers still steepled. "If this person is as unstable as we suspect, they could be a liability. We can’t afford for them to slip through our fingers."

Blackout’s eyes narrowed, his instincts flaring. There was more here than the council was letting on. A person with this kind of power? They’re not just a liability. They’re a danger. He processed the information, the weight of the mission already sinking into his bones. His mind raced as he began to formulate a plan.

"I understand," Blackout replied, his tone steady. "But I’ll need more. How are we sure this person is even aware of what they’re capable of? How do we know they’re not simply reacting to something beyond their control?"

Silas didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he exchanged a glance with the others around the table, the flicker of recognition passing between them, as if sharing a secret that only they understood. Finally, Silas spoke again, his voice low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "We don’t. But something about the energy... it feels like it’s calling to something. Someone.”

Blackout’s breath caught in his throat.

"We believe the person may be in Swellview," Silas continued, breaking through the fog of uncertainty. "Your task is to investigate. Get close. Observe. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he let the weight of the order settle in. "We need to know who they are before we make our move. Do not alert them to your presence. Not yet."

Not yet. The words echoed in Blackout’s mind like a warning bell. But it was too late. He was already committed.

"And if I find this person?" Blackout’s voice was sharp, every word a calculated move.

Silas’s lips curved into a cold smile. It was the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Then you will take the necessary steps. But only when you know everything. We don’t want to risk making a mistake. Not this time."

Blackout met his gaze, the challenge clear in Silas’s eyes.

"I understand," Blackout said, his voice steady, his mind already moving to the next stage of the plan. He turned to leave, but Silas’s voice stopped him.

"One last thing, Blackout," Silas said, his tone softening, almost conspiratorial. "The energy we’ve been tracking... it feels familiar. We don’t know why, but there’s something about it. Something that draws attention." He leaned forward again, his eyes sharpening as they locked onto Blackout. "Keep your senses sharp. Whoever this is, they could be more than just an accident. They could be part of something... larger. "

The room seemed to freeze, the air thickening as those final words hung in the space between them.

Familiar? The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He had heard whispers of power like this before, ones that slipped through the cracks of the system, those that could not be contained. But this? What was this? His mind whirred with possibilities, each darker than the last.

Blackout nodded once, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression before he masked it. "Understood."

Looks like he'd be returning to Swellview. A city full of secrets. The perfect place to hide.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 | Extreme Birdbath Monthly

Ray grabbed Piper’s arm, his tone sharp. “Piper, you’ve got to tell me—did anything weird happen before you came back to Swellview? Anything you didn’t tell us?”

Piper swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing. Her heart pounded in her chest as one particular memory surged forward. She tried to push it back, but it kept creeping in, unsettling and raw. “Something… did happen in Dystopia,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words out loud might make them even more real.

Ray’s grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a sharper edge. “What do you mean, something? What happened?”

Schwoz, who had been standing off to the side, staring at the now-silent machine as if it might hold the answers they needed, snapped his head toward them. His expression shifted from curious to intense, his voice carrying the weight of urgency. “You should tell us everything, Piper. Anything could be important.”

Piper's breath hitched, her mind racing as the images of that mission in Dystopia flooded her thoughts. The memory of the strange buzzing under her skin, the sensation that something inside her was shifting and changing—it all felt so surreal, almost like it had happened to someone else. But it hadn’t. It had happened to her. She could still feel the hum in her veins, like the energy was a living thing, writhing just beneath the surface. Her stomach tightened with unease, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

Her shoulders slumped, the weight of what she was about to say settling heavily in her chest. She looked from Ray’s piercing blue eyes to Schwoz’s eager, wide-eyed expression, both waiting for her to speak. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, fighting the fear that tried to choke her words.

Finally, she found her voice. “There was a mission,” she began, the words faltering as they left her lips. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. “When I was with Henry.”

Ray’s frown deepened, his hand falling away from her arm, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers, a mixture of concern and impatience lining his features.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice lowering, though the intensity remained.

Piper’s gaze drifted to the floor, as if the ground might offer some comfort, and she let the flood of memories take over. The mission—what really happened during that mission—was something she had tried to bury. But now, with Ray and Schwoz waiting for the truth, she knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

It was time to accept the truth of what was happening to her. She sucked in another breath as she began to recount the events.

The streets of Dystopia were suffused with a sickly green glow, the remnants of industrial smog clinging to the cracked pavement. Piper followed Henry closely, her heart pounding. This was her first real mission with him away from Swellview, and though she trusted her brother, the unease in the air was palpable.

“Stick close, Pipes,” Henry said, his tone unusually serious as they weaved through the alleyways. “The people we’re dealing with here? They’re not like the ones back home. They play rough.”

“I can handle it,” Piper said, her voice a little too loud in the eerie quiet. She tightened her grip on her backpack strap, feeling the cold weight of the gadgets inside. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use any of them.

Henry glanced back at her, his expression relaxing slightly. “I know you can. But just… stay alert, okay?”

As they reached a wide, open courtyard, the air grew colder, the shadows darker. A single flickering streetlamp cast a sickly glow on the cracked concrete beneath their feet. A group of figures stood clustered near an old, rusted transport vehicle, their forms barely visible in the dim light, faces obscured by hoods and shadows. The tension was palpable.

“That’s them,” Henry muttered, his voice low and strained. “Stay here. Let me do the talking.”

Piper nodded, though her stomach flipped. She crouched behind a stack of metal crates, trying to steady her breathing. Her eyes darted around, scanning the area, every shadow feeling like a potential threat. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Henry approached the group of men, his movements deliberate, but his posture tight. There was something about this place—this mission—that made her heart thud harder in her chest. She tried to listen, but the conversation was too soft, too far away to hear. Still, she could read the tension in Henry’s stiff back, the way one of the men kept glancing over his shoulder like they were expecting something.

Her grip on the crate tightened, her fingers digging into the rusted metal as a cold shiver ran down her spine. Stay focused.

One of the figures, a tall man wearing a long coat patched with bits of metallic plating, stepped forward, his voice cold and clipped. “...Payment was supposed to be here days ago, Hart,” the man said, his eyes narrowing, his stance aggressive. “You show up empty-handed, and you expect us to hand over the goods?”

Henry stood firm, his voice calm but edged with urgency. “I told you, it’s coming. I need the capacitor now. This isn’t a negotiation. You know what’s at stake.”

The man scoffed, but Piper could feel the tension in the air between them. Something was off—more than just the deal. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Then, without warning, one of the men made a move, his hand reaching for something in his jacket. It was quick—too quick—but Henry was faster. His hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist, twisting it violently.

“Don’t try me,” Henry said, his voice low but lethal.

The other men tensed, but Henry released the man and took a step back, trying to regain control of the situation.

“You came here for a reason,” Henry said, his voice cutting through the charged air. “I’m not here to play games. You have the capacitor. Give it to me, and we’re done.”

Piper watched the exchange from her hiding spot, her heart pounding. The air was thickening, a subtle hum in the back of her mind that she couldn’t quite shake. It was a feeling—a sense that things were about to spiral out of control.

The tall man studied him for a long moment, then snapped his fingers. Two other men stepped forward, carrying a small metal box between them. It was sleek, heavy, and ominous, its surface etched with faint, glowing lines that pulsed a dim blue, casting an eerie light over the courtyard.

Piper’s eyes locked onto it. A weird buzzing sensation had started inside her chest, almost like an electric shock was jolting through her ribs. She staggered back, her knees buckling slightly as a wave of dizziness hit her. What the hell was that thing?

The tall man handed the box to Henry, who took it with a steady hand, though his gaze flickered toward Piper. The buzzing was growing unbearable now, pulsing through her like some foreign energy was pressing against her from the inside. She gasped, clutching her arms around herself in an attempt to calm the overwhelming sensation.

“Fine,” the man grunted, “You take it now. But if I don’t see my credits by tomorrow—”

“You’ll get them,” Henry cut in, his voice firm, but his eyes wary.

Piper could hardly focus on their words anymore. All she could hear was the rapid thumping of her heart and the thrum of electricity pulsing through her, more intense now. She felt like the world was vibrating around her, like she was standing too close to a massive, dangerous power source.

The tall man opened the box. Piper leaned in, trying to make sense of the devices inside. There were two glowing spheres of energy, suspended within a transparent casing, casting an eerie, pulsing light that seemed to flicker in sync with the buzzing in her chest. Each pulse of the spheres seemed to reverberate inside her, tightening her chest, sending waves of disorientation flooding through her.

Henry reached for the box, but before anyone could move, one of the spheres emitted a deep, resonating hum—low at first, like a growl in the distance, but it quickly intensified into something far worse. Piper froze, her heart nearly stopping as a jolt of pain ripped through her chest. Her vision blurred, and the world spun.

The sphere's hum escalated, growing louder and louder until it was a sharp, painful whine that rang in her ears. Piper staggered back, clutching her arms, her knees buckling as she gasped for air.

Henry’s voice barely reached her through the distortion, and before she could tune back into the conversation, the sphere let out an ear-splitting screech.

The sound was unbearable.

Then, in an instant, it exploded in a burst of energy so powerful, the shockwave slammed into them like a physical force. The ground shook beneath Piper’s feet, the crates and metal scattered through the air like toys in the wind. Piper screamed as the shockwave sent her crashing to the ground, the energy ripping through her.

The air crackled with energy. Her vision blurred. She could hear nothing but the ringing in her ears. Her body felt weightless, disjointed, as though her bones were vibrating at a different frequency than the world around her. Her chest was tight, like something was suffocating her from the inside.

When the dust finally settled, the once-lit sphere was gone, leaving only a charred crater in the ground, smoke curling up from the burned earth. A metallic smell filled the air, sharp and acrid.

The tall man was the first to move, scrambling to his feet, his eyes wide with rage. “What the hell did you do?” he snarled at Henry.

“I didn’t do anything!” Henry shot back, his voice frantic, his hand still gripping the box which now only contained the one sphere. But his eyes were wide with confusion and horror.

A figure emerged from the shadows—this time, a woman, sleek and menacing, her visor reflecting the faint light as she moved with cold precision. She didn’t speak immediately, her head tilting slightly as though listening to something Piper couldn’t hear. Then, her gaze snapped to Piper’s hiding spot, zeroing in on her with unnerving accuracy.

“We’ve got company,” the woman’s voice sliced through the tension, her words ice-cold.

Piper’s stomach dropped. She pressed herself further into the shadows, doing everything she could to stay hidden. Her breath was shallow, her hands shaking violently, the buzzing under her skin now overwhelming—alive, relentless.

“Piper, run!” Henry’s shout sliced through the air, panic evident in his voice. He shoved the metal box toward the men, but the tall figure yanked out a weapon, aiming it toward him. The other two guards rushed to protect the box.

Piper didn’t hesitate. She bolted, her legs carrying her faster than she thought possible as the blaster shot rang out behind her. The sound of boots pounding on the pavement echoed as the chase began.

Her heart slammed in her chest as she rounded a corner and ducked behind a crumbling wall. Her breathing was ragged, panic setting in as the buzzing inside her grew stronger. She fumbled with her backpack, her hands slick with sweat, before pulling out a smoke bomb Charlotte had given her.

“Please work,” she whispered desperately, tugging at the pin with shaking fingers. The device rattled in her hand, but finally, she managed to pull the pin free, tossing it into the alley.

The smoke billowed out, thick and suffocating, engulfing the space around her. She seized the opportunity to double back, her thoughts racing.

Through the smoke, she saw the faint glow of the box and Henry grappling with one of the guards. He managed to shove the man aside, but the visor-wearing woman was closing in on him fast, her movements eerily precise.

Piper bit her lip, then grabbed another gadget—a small EMP device. She activated it and hurled it toward the woman. The device exploded in a burst of static, causing the woman to stumble as her visor flickered.

“Nice shot, Pipes!” Henry shouted, grabbing the metal box and sprinting toward her.

“Don’t mention it!” she yelled back, turning and running beside him.

As they dashed through the maze of alleys, Piper’s buzzing sensation grew stronger, pulsing in sync with the box Henry carried. She glanced at him, her brow furrowed.

“What is that thing, Henry?” she asked between breaths.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s not staying in Dystopia.”

They burst into the open, the distant hum of pursuing vehicles growing louder. Henry pointed toward a dilapidated safehouse, its door already ajar.

“In there!” he barked.

The moment they were inside, Henry slammed the door shut and activated a series of locks. He leaned against the wall, panting, while Piper doubled over, clutching her knees.

“Next time you tell me to stay back, I’m listening,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Good call,” Henry said, managing a weak grin. Then his gaze flicked to the box in his hands, his expression darkening. “But we’ve got bigger problems now.”

The buzzing under Piper’s skin flared again, sharper this time. Whatever was in that box wasn’t just dangerous—it felt alive.

Back in the present, Piper’s voice trembled as she finished recounting the story.

“After that, I started feeling… weird,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. “Like something was buzzing under my skin. I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, but now…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Ray frowned, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You think that device Henry was after did something to you?”

Piper shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. All I know is that everything changed after that day.”

Schwoz exchanged a worried glance with Ray. “If that device altered her on a molecular level, we could be dealing with something far more complex than just energy surges.”

Ray turned to Schwoz, his brow furrowed. “So what you’re saying is that this ‘buzzing’ could be a sign of something much worse? Like some crazy experiment gone wrong?”

Schwoz nodded gravely. “Exactly. It’s possible that whatever that device did to Piper… it wasn’t just a malfunction. It might have been designed to trigger something. Something bigger.”

Piper felt the weight of their words, but it was Ray’s next words that struck her the hardest.

“And whoever made that device might be looking for her now.”

The room grew heavy with the unspoken truth. Whoever created that device wasn’t just playing with technology—they were experimenting with people. And they might still be out there, waiting for her.

Schwoz began to mutter to himself, his voice a constant hum in the background as he moved to his gadgets. Piper looked away, rubbing her arms. The buzzing under her skin wasn’t just physical anymore; it felt like her nerves were wired with tension.

Ray let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s way too early for this. I desperately need a cup of coffee.”

Without thinking, Piper stood and walked toward the kitchen. Her hands shook slightly as she opened the cupboard, her movements stiff and jerky. She wasn’t sure why she offered to make Ray coffee—maybe she just needed to keep moving, to do something that didn’t feel like life and death.

She glanced over her shoulder as she grabbed a mug. “You still take it with three sugars and a shit ton of creamer?”

Ray, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, straightened up, surprise flickering across his face. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know that?”

Piper shrugged as she focused on pouring the coffee. “I used to see you drinking it that way when I’d come by the Man Cave with Henry. Figured you’d be too stubborn to change.”

Ray smirked faintly, pushing off the wall and strolling over to her. “You think I’m stubborn, huh?”

She glanced at him briefly, her lips twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Oh, please. If ‘stubborn’ was an Olympic sport, you’d have a gold medal and a sponsorship deal.”

Ray chuckled, leaning against the counter as she stirred in the sugar and cream. “Fair point. But it’s not like you’re much better. You’re the one who used to storm into the Man Cave demanding Henry buy you new sneakers or drive you to the mall.”

Piper froze for a moment, her back still to him. “Yeah, well… I guess I didn’t really appreciate how much danger he was in back then.” She turned around, the mug in her hands. “I thought all of this—the superhero stuff—was just… fun. I didn’t realize how serious it could get until I ended up in Dystopia.”

Ray’s smile faded as he looked at her, his usual cocky demeanor giving way to something softer. “You couldn’t have known. None of us wanted you to know.”

Their fingers brushed as she handed him the mug, and though the touch lasted only a moment, Piper felt a faint jolt, as though the buzzing inside her had flickered in response. She pulled her hand back quickly, staring at the floor as she leaned against the counter opposite him.

Ray took a sip of the coffee, his brow lifting in faint surprise. “Huh. Not bad. Didn’t know you could make coffee.”

Piper rolled her eyes, a trace of her usual snark creeping back in. “I’m not completely useless, you know.”

Ray looked at her over the rim of his mug. “Never said you were.”

For a moment, the room felt quieter, the air between them heavier but not uncomfortable. Piper glanced down, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “Do you really think someone’s after me?”

Ray set the mug down on the counter, his tone serious but steady. “I don’t know, Piper. But if they are, they’ll have to go through the rest of us first.”

Piper looked up, her eyes meeting his. There was no cocky bravado in his voice, just a quiet certainty that made her feel, if only for a second, like everything might be okay.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

“Don’t mention it.” He picked up his mug again, taking another sip. “But, uh, if this ‘buzzing’ starts turning you into some kind of supervillain, give me a heads-up, okay? I’d hate to have to fight you.”

Piper snorted, the tension easing just a little. “Trust me, I’d win.”

Ray grinned. “Oh, it’s on now.”

In the background, Schwoz rummaged through the fridge and emerged with a bottle of mustard. As he guzzled it like water, Ray sighed and shook his head.

“Schwoz, seriously? Can you not? We’re dealing with something potentially catastrophic, and you’re chugging condiments?”

Schwoz paused mid-sip, looking affronted. “Excuse me, Ray, but mustard contains important antioxidants! It helps me to think better under pressure.”

Piper wrinkled her nose as she watched him take another exaggerated swig, smacking his lips. “I don’t think that’s a thing, Schwoz.”

Schwoz waved her off, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “It is! And you’ll thank me when my brilliant idea saves the day.”

Ray fixed Schwoz with a skeptical look. “You do have an idea, right? Because so far, I’m hearing a lot of mustard, and not a lot of solutions.”

Schwoz set the mustard bottle down on the counter with a flourish. “Of course, I have an idea! But first, we need to establish one important rule.”

Ray groaned, already regretting asking. “Do I even want to know what this rule is?”

Schwoz pointed a finger dramatically at Piper. “No matter what, we must not use any machines or technology to analyze her. Not until we understand more about what we’re dealing with. The energy inside her could create another signal—like a beacon—alerting whoever built that device to her location.”

Ray sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Yeah, we already covered that, Schwoz. What’s the actual idea?”

Schwoz straightened, adjusting his jacket proudly. “Observation. We monitor her manually—no tech. We pay attention to what triggers her symptoms, like the buzzing, or if anything strange happens around her.”

“You mean I’m basically a walking science experiment now? Great,” Piper said, throwing her hands up.

Ray stepped forward, appearing thoughtful. “Look, I get it. This is freaky. But Schwoz might be right. If we can figure out what’s setting this off—besides your emotions—maybe we can stop it before it gets worse.”

Before Piper could respond, the sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs interrupted them. Her dad rounded the corner into the living room, his phone clutched in his hand.

“Piper,” he began, his voice carrying his usual oblivious enthusiasm, “you’ll be thrilled to know that I just subscribed to Extreme Birdbath Monthly! It’s gonna go great with my collection!”

Piper groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Seriously, Dad? How do you even find these? Is there a secret catalog of the world’s dumbest magazines?”

Jake ignored the jab, his attention shifting to Ray, who was trying to make himself invisible behind his coffee mug. “Captain Man!” He exclaimed, clapping Ray on the shoulder with enough force, almost making him spill his coffee. “Haven’t seen you since your retirement! Still got the muscles, I see.”

Ray gave a tight smile, adjusting his grip on the mug. “Yeah. Uh, good to see you too, Mr. Hart.”

“Jake,” He corrected, his smile widening. “Man, it’s so great to see you! You know, I tell people all the time about how Captain Man and Kid Danger saved Swellview. Henry was your sidekick, but in a way, you were kind of his sidekick, huh?”

Ray’s expression went flat. “Yeah, I don’t think it worked like that.”

Jake leaned in conspiratorially. “Hey, no judgment. You gotta let others shine sometimes. Like me—I’m the brains of this family, but I let Kris think she’s in charge.”

“That explains a lot,” Piper muttered.

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Sure does.”

Her dad didn’t seem to hear them, too busy scanning the room and Schwoz's machine with wide-eyed excitement. “Is this a superhero meeting? Do you need me? I can suit up. I’ve got a tactical vest somewhere in the garage. Used it for paintball, but I’m pretty sure it’s hero-worthy.”

Ray looked at him skeptically. “Yeah, because superheroes definitely wear vests covered in paint splatters.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Jake countered, folding his arms. “I’m serious. If you need me to be a decoy, or a distraction, or even just moral support, I’m your guy.”

“Dad, no one needs you to be anything,” Piper said flatly.

“Don’t listen to her,” he said, waving Piper off. “I’ve got great dad reflexes. I saved a pizza from falling once by catching it with my foot. Think about that. With my foot.”

Ray opened his mouth, clearly about to respond with something snarky, but then his eyes shifted to Schwoz, who was now holding a bottle of ketchup upside-down over his mouth. The bottle made an unpleasant squelching noise as Schwoz gulped the last of its contents.

Jake’s expression shifted to horrified confusion. “Is that—was that my ketchup?”

Schwoz wiped his mouth with his sleeve, entirely unapologetic. “It was delicious. You should buy more.”

Jake blinked, holding up his hands like he needed to back away slowly. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just… leave you all to it.”

He turned toward the door but paused, glancing back at Ray. “By the way, did you ever find that girl you were looking for? Choppa?”

“Chapa,” Ray corrected, sighing. “And yeah, she’s fine.”

Jake nodded sagely. “Good. She was cool. You know, if you ever need me to fake-dad for her again, I’m available.”

Ray shot him a dry look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Great! You’ve got my number.” Jake gave them a double thumbs-up before heading for the front door. But before leaving, he stopped on the threshold, frowning as if a thought had just occurred to him.

“Wait. Why is it so quiet here?” He gestured vaguely around the room. “No explosions, no weird bad guys trying to break my furniture—are you guys okay? Is this a superhero intervention?”

“It’s not an intervention!” Piper snapped, shoving him toward the door. “We’re fine. Go away!”

Jake smirked, clearly amused by her reaction. “Alright, alright. I’ll be at work. But if you need me, you know where to find me!”

He finally left, leaving the room in a silence punctuated only by Piper’s groan and Ray muttering under his breath as he drained the rest of his coffee.

She let out a heavy sigh as she leaned against the counter. "Great. Now we can go back to dealing with all of this... stuff."

Schwoz picked up without missing a beat. "Step one: Piper, you're going to start keeping a detailed log of everything you experience. Buzzing, weird feelings, strange events—anything out of the ordinary. Step two: Ray, no yelling at me while I analyze the data.”

Ray raised a finger. “I don’t yell, I warn. And if you screw this up, Schwoz, I will personally throw you into a vacuum chute. This isn’t some science fair project.”

Schwoz waved a hand like Ray had just sneezed instead of threatened him. "Science fair? Please. I won twelve of those. Thirteen if you count the time I hacked the judging algorithm to eliminate my rival, Gary With-The-Glasses." He paused, thinking. "Although my robot did attack the audience that year, so technically—"

"Schwoz," Piper interrupted flatly, not even looking at him. "We agreed you wouldn't bring up Gary. He gives you the twitchy eye."

Schwoz touched his face instinctively. "Oh no. It's twitching already."

Ray gave Piper a sideways look. "How do you know about his Gary twitch?"

Piper shrugged. "We ran into Gary during my last spring break in Mexico. I've seen things."

"Questionable things," Schwoz muttered, eyes still twitching at the memory.

Ray gave them both a look. His lips twitched, but he didn't let up. "Okay, fine. Love that you're trauma-bonded or whatever, but can we focus? Schwoz, just don't make Henry's sister into your next exploding side project, okay? No laser hats. No accidental cloning. And absolutely no shrinking machines."

"I only shrunk one senator!" Schwoz protested. "And he was rude to waitstaff."

Piper's smiled faded, and she crossed her arms. "I'm not some experiment, Schwoz. I don't want to be treated like a lab rat just because I happen to short-circuit things around me when I'm upset."

Ray stepped in, voice gentler. "No one's treating you like that. Not me. Not him. We're trying to help you get ahead of this before it spirals again."

Schwoz nodded solemnly. "I would never poke you without consent. Not even for science. And you know how much that means coming from me."

Piper softened. "I know."

He brightened immediately. "Good! So: detailed notes. Every weird moment, every spark, every time your fingers buzz or a bird flies backward near you, every time you think you smell rubber and there's no rubber around—especially those."

Piper stared. "So... a journal. Your big plan is a diary of doom?"

"Exactly!" Schwoz said, as if she were finally catching up.

"And how exactly is writing 'feeling weird' in a notebook supposed to help exactly?"

"It's how science works!" Schwoz insisted. "Like tracking an unpredictable weather pattern or a unicorn with rage issues. You need data to find rhythms."

Ray raised a brow. "So we're tracking Piper like a storm system now?"

"Or a unicorn," Schwoz offered. "A glittery one with a tragic backstory."

Piper rolled her eyes. "Honestly? I'd rather be a unicorn than someone's science project. But fine. I'll keep a journal if it means you two stop hovering."

Ray placed his mug down and looked at her seriously. "We're not hovering. We're watching your back. There's a difference."

She met his gaze, then nodded—just once.

Schwoz clapped his hands, delighted. "Perfect! I'll analyze the data. Scientific method, emotional resonance tracking, sparking variables—everything."

Piper shot him a flat look. "There better not be actual glitter involved."

"No promises," he said brightly, rummaging through his backpack. "Ooh, maybe color-coded highlighters."

Ray snorted. "We're not putting her on a sticker chart, Schwoz."

"...Not anymore," Schwoz muttered. "But you would've gotten a gold star for not frying the coffee maker today."

Piper shook her head. "You're insane," she said, though her tone was more fond than anything. She glanced at Ray, who was watching her with a mix of concern and intrigue. She could tell he was trying to be serious, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

"We’ll get this figured out," he reassured her. "I promise. But we gotta stay focused."

Piper let out a heavy sigh, trying to push aside the unease bubbling in her chest. "Alright, alright. I’ll play along. So every time I feel like I'm going to short-circuit a toaster, I write it down and Schwoz will play pattern detective with it?"

"Yup!" Schwoz grinned. "Think of it like a BuzzTracker™. Or don't. I already trademarked that."

She shot him a long, deadpan stare. "You're lucky I like you."

Schwoz looked genuinely touched. "I do know that."

Ray chuckled and crossed his arms. "Alright. We've got a plan. Let's stick to it and keep things simple. No one's poking or prodding anyone. Except emotionally. Which, fair warning, I do sometimes."

Piper took a deep breath, eyes flicking between the two of them. Despite the sarcasm, despite the chaos... she felt steadier than she had in days.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6| Eye Of The Tiger

The glass doors of Mason & Gillis whooshed open as Piper stepped into the firm’s sleek lobby. Polished marble floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and glass walls separated each section of the space. The air smelled faintly of expensive coffee and freshly printed paper. Piper’s heels clicked against the floor with purpose, her chin held high, her blazer fitting perfectly over her shoulders.

You’ve got this, Piper, she told herself, squaring her shoulders. She didn’t feel out of place; she belonged here. She just had to prove it to everyone else.

The receptionist, perched behind a glossy desk, glanced up with a professional smile. “Good morning. Can I help you?”

“Piper Hart. First-day intern,” Piper replied, her tone confident but warm.

The receptionist’s eyes flitted to her computer. “Ah, yes. Mr. Radcliffe will be showing you around. Please have a seat.”

Piper settled into one of the pristine white chairs, crossing her legs. She pulled out her phone, scrolling mindlessly but still stealing glances around the lobby. People walked briskly with files tucked under their arms, their suits impossibly sharp. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips—this was her kind of environment.

A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense air walked into the lobby. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit and carried a leather portfolio under his arm.

"Ms. Hart?" he asked briskly.

Piper rose to her feet, offering a firm handshake. "That’s me. You must be Mr. Radcliffe."

He gave her a once-over, nodding. "Follow me."

Radcliffe led her through the office, pointing out various departments. "That’s litigation—fast-paced, aggressive. Over there, corporate law.”

Piper took it all in, keeping pace with his long strides. The glass partitions offered a view of bustling lawyers, some on calls, others poring over documents. It was intimidating, but Piper didn’t let it show.

"I’ve read about your firm," Piper said, striking up conversation. "You’re one of the top-rated firms in the state for intellectual property cases. That’s impressive."

Radcliffe gave a slight nod. "It is. We expect our interns to maintain the same level of excellence. Think you’re up for it?"

"Absolutely," Piper said without hesitation.

Radcliffe paused at a cluster of desks. “This is the associates’ bullpen. Your workspace is here.”

He handed her a slim file. “First assignment: summarize these depositions and highlight anything relevant to our client’s case. Deadline: end of the day.”

Piper opened the file, scanning the pages of dense legal jargon. She looked up at Radcliffe with a determined smile. “Got it.”

He nodded once before walking off. “Ms. Hart, I don’t expect perfection—but I do expect results.”

Piper muttered to herself as she slid into her seat, “Well, no pressure there.”

She opened the file fully, flipping to the first page, when it hit her—a faint tingling in her chest. Piper froze, her breath hitching.

Not now, she thought, gripping the edge of the desk. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. You’re fine. Just nerves. It’s nothing.

The tingling subsided after a moment, leaving her rattled but outwardly composed. She flexed her fingers and got back to work, scrawling notes in the margins of the deposition. If she could survive chaos with her brother and his friends, she could handle a stack of legalese.

“Piper?” A voice, high-pitched and unmistakably inquisitive, broke her concentration.

Her pen hovered mid-note as she looked up, her brow furrowing. Standing before her was a figure she hadn’t seen in years—Krisha, Oliver Pook’s eccentric cousin. Her outfit was an assault on the senses: a bright purple blazer clashed violently with her lime-green scarf, and her mismatched socks peeked out from her slightly cropped pants.

“Krisha?” Piper blinked, unsure if she was hallucinating from staring at legal jargon too long.

“Wow, it is you!” Krisha’s tone was both surprised and oddly analytical, as if she were confirming a hypothesis. “I smelled you from the copier room.”

Piper blinked. “You… smelled me?”

“Yeah,” Krisha said matter-of-factly, leaning in slightly. “It’s faint, but you smell like… burnt circuits. Weird, right?”

Piper instinctively sniffed her sleeve. “I do not smell like burnt circuits.”

Krisha tilted her head, unconvinced. “I have a really good nose. Oliver says it’s ‘freakish.’ I prefer ‘gifted.’” She plopped into the empty chair next to Piper’s desk, balancing her sticky notes on her knee. “So, what are you doing here? This doesn’t seem like your vibe.”

Piper arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly is my vibe?”

Krisha tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Loud? Chaotic? Maybe an influencer who sells skincare on the side?”

Piper scoffed. “I’ll have you know I’m very professional. In fact, I’m going to crush this internship.”

Krisha shrugged. “Cool, cool. I’m here because my dad said I need ‘real-world experience.’” She made air quotes. “Whatever that means.”

“Wait, you’re interning here?” Piper asked, incredulous.

“Yup! I’ve been here for like, a whole two days. I’m basically a pro already. My job right now is organizing the files by scent,” Krisha said with a straight face. “Really confusing at first, but I’m getting the hang of it.”

Piper’s jaw dropped. “What?”  She shook her head, trying to process it. “How the hell did you manage to land an internship here?”

Krisha shrugged nonchalantly, tapping a finger to her temple. “It’s all about connections, Piper. I’ve got my ways.” She paused, leaning in as if to share some secret. “Also, they needed someone who could find the perfect coffee bean in a mile radius. I mean, do you know how many bad beans are out there? It’s a disaster.”

Piper snorted. “So, they hired you to sniff out bad coffee?”

“Exactly!” Krisha said, her eyes sparkling with pride. “I’m the only intern here who can tell the difference between sour beans and, you know, not-so-sour beans. It’s a skill, Piper. It’s a real skill.”

Piper shook her head, still processing the fact that Krisha was working at the same prestigious law firm as she was. This was the competition? The girl who could smell coffee beans and sort files by scent?

“Okay, but seriously,” Piper said, crossing her arms. “What’s your actual role here?”

Krisha smiled brightly, completely oblivious to Piper's inner commentary. “I’m really good at paperwork. Like, I’ve got this ‘filing’ thing down to an art. Watch this.”

She grabbed a stack of files from a nearby desk and fumbled with them for a moment before confidently slamming them into an empty drawer. She gave Piper a thumbs-up. “Boom. Nailed it.”

Piper stared at her for a long moment. “Okay, I have no idea how you ended up here, but I really want to see how long you last before they figure out you’re not… normal.”

Krisha gave her a completely serious look. “I’m totally normal.”

Piper resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Seriously though, how are you surviving this place?” she asked curiously, eyeing the maze of cubicles and sleek glass offices. “I mean, you’re—”

“Not the type to work in a cubicle?” Krisha interrupted with a knowing grin. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not that bad.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice like they were conspiring. “Between you and me, though, I’ve been using the office printer to print out personal stuff. You know, just so I can feel connected to the outside world.”

Piper sighed, already regretting asking. “What kind of personal stuff are we talking about here?”

“I mean,” Krisha started, twirling her hair with her finger. “I’ve been printing out pictures of my dog. He’s, like, super cute and the printer really makes them look professional. You should see it—it’s like art.”

“Wow,” Piper said dryly. “You’re a real rebel, Krisha.”

Krisha grinned, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm. “Right? The other interns are probably intimidated. That’s why no one talks to me.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely why,” Piper deadpanned.

Their banter was cut short when a shadow loomed over their desks.

“Ms. Hart,” came the sharp voice of Mr. Radcliffe.

Piper looked up, her posture instantly straightening. “Yes, Mr. Radcliffe?”

He gave her a pointed look, his gaze flickering briefly to Krisha, who was now attempting to look busy by pretending to sort a pile of already-organized files.

“Less chatting, more working,” Radcliffe said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, sir,” Piper said with a polite nod.

Radcliffe turned to leave, but Krisha couldn’t help herself. “Hey, Mr. Radcliffe?”

He paused, glancing back with a raised eyebrow.

“I love your tie. Very... authoritative,” she said with complete sincerity.

Radcliffe stared at her for a moment, then walked away without a word.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Piper leaned toward Krisha, her voice low. “Do you have some kind of compulsion to make every interaction as awkward as possible?”

Krisha tilted her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s a compulsion. More like a gift.”

Piper sighed, shaking her head as she returned to her work. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” Krisha said sincerely, spinning her chair in a slow circle.

Piper smoothed the folder in her hands as she walked toward Radcliffe’s office, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floors. The frosted glass door loomed ahead, its gold-lettered nameplate radiating an air of authority.

You’ve got this, Piper told herself. It’s just a file drop. Easy.

She raised her hand and knocked, the sound crisp and deliberate.

“Come in,” came Radcliffe’s clipped voice.

Piper pushed the door open, stepping into the sleek, intimidating office. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in natural light, casting sharp lines across the dark mahogany desk. Radcliffe sat behind it, his expression unreadable as he glanced up from his monitor.

What caught Piper off guard wasn’t Radcliffe’s piercing gaze—it was the figure seated across from him.

Logan Mallory.

Her boyfriend’s best friend. Her academic nemesis. And apparently, her fellow intern.

Piper froze for a split second, her mind racing. What was he doing here? Logan was lounging casually in the leather chair, his tailored blazer perfect as usual, his smirk sharper than a legal brief.

“Well, well,” Logan drawled, his gray eyes sparkling with mischief. “If it isn’t Piper Hart. I guess Mason & Gillis is letting just about anyone intern these days.”

Piper’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the folder like it was her lifeline. “Funny,” she replied, forcing a cool smile. “I was about to say the same thing about you.”

Radcliffe glanced between them, his brow furrowing. “You two know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Piper and Logan said in unison, their voices dripping with sarcasm.

Radcliffe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great. That’s exactly what this firm needs—petty bickering in a professional environment.”

“I wasn’t bickering,” Logan said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with the confidence of someone who’d already charmed half the office. “I was merely stating a fact.”

Piper shot him a glare. “And I was merely correcting a mistake.”

Radcliffe’s frown deepened. “Ms. Hart, I trust that you can remain professional despite whatever history the two of you have?”

“Of course,” Piper said quickly, her tone firm. She stepped forward and placed the folder on Radcliffe’s desk, her movements precise. “The deposition summaries you requested, Mr. Radcliffe. I’ve highlighted key points and flagged potential issues for further review.”

Radcliffe opened the folder, his eyes scanning the contents. He didn’t comment immediately, and Piper found herself holding her breath.

Logan’s voice broke the silence. “Impressive, Hart. Highlighting and flagging? Truly groundbreaking work.”

Piper’s eyes narrowed. “Do they teach you to talk that much at mediocrity school, or is it just a natural talent?”

“Enough,” Radcliffe snapped, his tone cold. “Ms. Hart, this is a law firm, not a playground. I expect a higher level of decorum from my interns.”

Piper’s stomach twisted, her confidence faltering. “I understand, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Radcliffe closed the folder, setting it aside with a dismissive nod. “You’ve made a solid start, but remember—results are what matter here. Leave the dramatics at the door.”

“Yes, sir,” Piper said, forcing a polite smile as her cheeks burned.

Logan, of course, couldn’t resist one last jab. “Don’t worry, Mr. Radcliffe. I’ll keep an eye on her. She’s always been a bit... unpredictable.”

“Logan,” Radcliffe said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I expect the same from you.”

Logan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Understood.”

Radcliffe gestured toward the door. “That’s all for now, Ms. Hart. Mr. Mallory, remain here. We need to discuss the Jacobs case.”

Piper nodded and turned on her heel, her heart pounding as she made her way out of the office. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and she exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging.

She’d come in confident, ready to prove herself. Now, thanks to Logan and Radcliffe’s obvious skepticism, she felt like she was already on shaky ground. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she stormed toward a quiet corner near the office break room. Once she was out of earshot, she yanked her phone out of her bag and scrolled to James’s number.

She hit call, her fingers gripping the phone tightly as it rang.

“Hey, Piper!” James’s warm voice came through the line, instantly calming her nerves—if only for a second.

“Did you know Logan was interning here?” Piper cut straight to the point, her voice low but seething.

There was a pause. Not long, but long enough to confirm her suspicion. “Uh… yeah,” James admitted hesitantly. “He might’ve mentioned it to me the same day you told me you got in.”

Piper’s free hand curled into a fist. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Give me a heads-up? Warn me that the most obnoxious person I know was going to be working with me?”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” James replied, his tone edging toward defensiveness. “You two just work at the same place. It’s not like you’ll be stuck together.”

“Oh, really? Because he was in Radcliffe’s office just now, making me look like a complete idiot!” Piper snapped, pacing the small corridor. “He’s already getting under my skin, James. And I wasn’t prepared for it because you didn’t think to mention it.”

James sighed audibly. “I didn’t think it was worth stressing you out over. You were so excited about starting the internship, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“Well, congratulations. It’s ruined,” Piper shot back. “He’s sitting there acting all smug, trying to one-up me in front of our boss. And now Radcliffe probably thinks I’m some unprofessional train wreck.”

“Piper,” James said, his voice softening. “You’re overthinking this. Logan’s just... Logan. He’s competitive with everyone. Don’t let him get to you.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “You’re not the one who'll have to deal with him every day.”

“Babe, come on,” James pleaded. “You’re smart, you’re capable. You’ll prove yourself, Logan or no Logan. Don’t let him throw you off.”

Piper stopped pacing, her back against the wall. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to steady herself. “I just... I needed you to have my back on this, James. You know how he gets under my skin. I needed you to at least tell me.”

“I get that,” James said after a pause. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I just didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

“Well, it is harder now,” Piper muttered. Her tone had softened, but the sting of the argument still lingered.

James sighed again. “I don’t want to fight about this, Pipes. I messed up, okay? I’ll talk to Logan if it’ll help.”

Piper shook her head, though he couldn’t see it. “No. Don’t talk to him. I’ll handle it myself.” She rubbed her temple, exhaustion creeping in. “I need to get back to work. We’ll talk later.”

“Alright,” James said, his tone tinged with guilt. “Good luck with the rest of your day.”

Piper ended the call without replying, shoving her phone back into her bag. She took a deep breath, straightened her blazer, and forced herself to walk back toward the associates’ bullpen. Her face was hot with anger, and her thoughts churned furiously. Between Logan undermining her, Radcliffe’s cold disapproval, and now James, who couldn’t even bother to give her a heads-up about Logan’s internship, it felt like the walls were closing in.

As she walked back to her desk, Krisha popped up from behind a filing cabinet, holding a stack of neon sticky notes. “Hey! You look like you just got hit by a semi. What happened?”

Piper dropped into her chair, shaking her head. “Let’s just say this internship just got a whole lot more complicated.”

Krisha gave her a sympathetic look. “Ugh, I get it. People suck.” She patted Piper’s shoulder with a grin. “But hey, at least you got through the first day without—”

Piper interrupted her, holding up her hand. “Don’t jinx it. I’m still trying to survive this.”

Krisha shrugged and went back to sticking her colorful notes to her own desk. Piper glanced at the clock. The next part of her day loomed large.

Her training session with Ray was in a few hours, and the thought of it made her stomach tighten.

Radcliffe and Logan were one thing. Even James, as frustrating as he was right now, was manageable. But her powers? That was a whole different level of stress. They were unpredictable, dangerous, and no matter how much Ray and Schwoz reassured her, she couldn’t shake the fear that she was spiraling toward something she couldn’t control.

The image of Schwoz’s malfunctioning machine flashed through her mind again, and her pulse quickened. Someone out there knew about her powers. Someone was watching. Every spike in her energy, every flare of electricity—it felt like a beacon, broadcasting her existence to whoever might be looking for her.

And that wasn’t just terrifying. It was exhausting.

Piper pressed her palms flat against her desk, trying to steady her breathing. She had to keep it together. She had to figure this out, not just for her sake, but for the people around her. If her powers spiraled out of control, it wouldn’t just be her life on the line.

The fluorescent lights above flickered suddenly, the soft hum of electricity shifting to an irregular buzz. Piper froze, her breath hitching. She glanced around nervously, hoping no one else noticed.

Krisha, however, popped her head up from her desk like a meerkat. “Did the lights just flicker, or am I having an epiphany?”

“It’s nothing,” Piper said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. She clenched her fists under the desk, willing the energy inside her to settle. The lights above steadied, but her chest still felt tight, like a coil wound too tight, ready to snap.

With a sigh, she grabbed her pen and went back to work, trying to focus on the task at hand. But her mind kept wandering back to her training session. What if Ray’s methods didn’t work? What if she couldn’t control this power inside her? What if she never figured it out?

She shook her head, trying to stay focused, but the stress of it all weighed heavily on her chest. She had to prove herself—not just here at the firm, but to herself, to Ray, and to whoever might be watching her every move.

And right now, that pressure was as suffocating as the energy crackling inside her.

Ray stepped into Junk-N-Stuff, the familiar chime of the door ringing in his ears as he made his way past the shelves of random trinkets and dust-covered gadgets. The shop had always been a bit of a mess, but it was part of its charm. 

The air inside felt cooler, the smell of old wood and steel welcoming him like a long-lost friend. It had been six years since he'd last set foot in this place, and even though he'd grown used to the quiet solitude of his life post-Captain Man, there was something about this place that felt… right.

The back room was just as he remembered. The walls lined with gadgets, half-assembled inventions, and relics of his time as a hero. His fingers traced the edges of his old zapper on one of the shelves, the zapper that had once saved him during countless battles. 

A nostalgic smile tugged at his lips as he scanned the familiar surroundings, each piece of equipment telling a story, each item a fragment of the whirlwind years that had made him who he was.

He pushed the elevator button with a sense of finality, and the doors opened with a soft whoosh. As he descended to the Man Cave, his thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d been here. It was a night that had marked the end of an era. His final battle with Henry and co, the last hurrah, when everything changed.

The Man Cave.

It had been the hub of everything. The control center for all of their superhero operations, a space where they planned their next moves, caught their breaths after a mission, and, most importantly, where they shared their victories and their defeats. 

Ray missed the energy, the chaos, the camaraderie of those days. He had done it all with Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper—fighting villains, saving Swellview, and laughing in the face of danger. But now, it was just him, standing alone in a place filled with echoes.

When the elevator doors opened, Ray stepped inside. The space was quiet now, too quiet. The monitors that used to flicker with activity were dark, the high-tech gadgets scattered around the room now dormant. The place had been his home base for so many years, and now it felt like a distant memory.

Ray ran his fingers lightly over the sleek desk that had once been the center of so many high-stakes operations. His eyes lingered on the chair where Henry had often sat, firing off witty one-liners and barely keeping up with the chaos of their missions. He thought of Charlotte, always the voice of reason, keeping everyone on track. Even Jasper’s loud, offbeat comments. He could almost hear Henry’s voice echoing in the room, the sound of his laughter, his banter. But Henry wasn’t here anymore.

Those days felt so distant now, like they belonged to someone else.

Ray let out a long, slow breath, feeling a pang in his chest. He had done the right thing. He had left behind the superhero life, moved on to something more… normal. He had his quiet life with Credenza, and they’d built a good, peaceful life together. But even as he tried to embrace it, the pull of his old life lingered. He had been Captain Man for so long—fighting, saving, protecting—and now, everything felt different. 

The world outside was no longer just a series of villainous threats and high-speed chases. It was complicated. People were moving on with their lives, and Ray was still here—left behind in the shadows of what used to be.

He glanced at the clock. Piper would be arriving for her training session soon, and as much as he’d gotten used to a quieter life, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Piper was going to need a lot of help learning to control her powers. She wasn’t just Henry’s annoying sister anymore; she was an emerging force on her own, and he had to be ready to help her take on the responsibility that came with her abilities.

But as he stood there in the dim, empty room, memories flooding back, Ray couldn’t help but feel the weight of what he left behind. The thrill of being Captain Man, the sense of purpose, the teamwork—it had all felt so... fulfilling. But now, it was all different. He wasn’t sure how to reconcile his past with his present, or how to balance his loyalty to his new life with his commitment to helping Henry and his family.

The quiet was almost deafening, and Ray sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had made the decision to leave that life behind, and he had no regrets. But the nostalgia still lingered, the pull of old memories threatening to drag him back.

A small sound broke his reverie—a chime, then the elevator doors opened.

Piper.

Ray straightened up, his chest tightening with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He glanced around the room, taking in the empty seats where his team had once sat, working together, laughing together. Those days were gone, but his new mission was right in front of him now.

He smiled faintly as she stepped into the room. There was still a flicker of something in his chest—excitement, maybe, or something more complicated—but he couldn’t dwell on it. Piper was here, ready for her training. That’s what mattered now.

“Hey, Ray,” Piper said, her voice calm and steady, but there was a noticeable edge of nervousness beneath it. “Ready to start my training session?”

Ray glanced around the room one last time, then turned back to Piper, his smile growing. “Absolutely. Let’s get to work.”

He walked over to her, the weight of the past still heavy on his shoulders, but now, the future was standing right in front of him. He wasn’t going to let his history define him anymore. Piper was ready to step into her own journey, and he would be right there beside her, guiding her through the chaos, the way he had once done for Henry.

And for the first time in a long time, Ray felt like he had a purpose again.

Ray motioned for Piper to follow, walking toward the center of the room. “Okay, first things first. We need a baseline. Figure out how your energy works. So, we’re going to start with something simple.”

He paced back and forth, Bluetooth speaker in hand, a determined look on his face.

Piper crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Simple? Do I get a heads up, or are you just going to throw me into some crazy stunt?”

Ray stopped pacing and turned to face her, holding up the speaker like it was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe. “Piper, do you trust me?”

Piper snorted. “Do I have a choice?”

Ray ignored her. “Good, because I’m about to blow your mind. Music is the key to everything. Rhythm, control, precision—it’s all in the beat. And that’s exactly what we’re gonna use to harness your powers.”

Piper stared at him. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Ray asked, his tone dead serious.

“You always look like you’re joking,” Piper shot back.

Ray gave an exaggerated sigh. “Listen, Pipes—”

“Don’t call me Pipes.”

“Listen, Piper,” Ray corrected, emphasizing her name like it was a chore. “Your powers are unpredictable because they’re just raw energy. No structure, no focus. But if you learn to sync them to a steady beat, you’ll start to control them! It’s science!”

Piper continued to stare at him incredulously. “Is it? Or did you just pull that out of your—”

“Trust me!” Ray interrupted, clapping his hands together. “Now, stand there.”

He pointed to a marked circle in the center of the room. Piper hesitated, then stepped into the circle, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the man floor. She flexed her fingers, tiny sparks crackling at her fingertips.

“Alright,” Ray said, scrolling through his phone. “We’ll start with something simple. Something classic. Something inspiring.”

The opening beat of Eye of the Tiger filled the room, echoing off the high-tech walls. Piper’s jaw dropped.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

Ray ignored her sarcasm once again, stepping to the side like a proud conductor about to lead his orchestra. “Okay, focus. Feel the beat. Let the rhythm guide your powers. Sync the flow of your energy to the tempo. And… go!”

Piper sighed, closing her eyes. This was ridiculous, but she’d humor him. She held out her hands, her fingers glowing faintly as sparks of energy danced along her skin. She concentrated on the steady rhythm, letting it pulse through her like a metronome.

For a moment, it seemed to be working. The sparks matched the beat, flaring and dimming in perfect time with the music. Piper opened one eye cautiously. “Hey, I think it’s—”

The chorus hit, and with it, her control shattered. The electricity surged unpredictably, crackling wildly around her. Piper yelped as a stray bolt of energy shot toward one of the monitors, only for it to bounce harmlessly off the reinforced surface.

“Whoa!” Ray ducked behind the blue and red couch, as another bolt arced through the air.

“I can’t stop it!” Piper shouted, her hands glowing brighter as the energy spiraled out of control.

“Relax! Breathe! Feel the beat!” Ray yelled, peeking out from his vantage point.

“I’m trying!”

The energy bolts danced erratically around the room, lighting up the Man Cave like a Fourth of July fireworks display. One particularly bright surge hit the speaker, frying it instantly and cutting off the music mid-chorus.

Ray stared at the smoking speaker, his expression a disbelief and betrayal. “You killed Eye of the Tiger!”

“Not helping!” Piper snapped, her powers still flaring uncontrollably.

Ray stepped cautiously out from behind the seating area, his hands raised like he was approaching a wild animal. “Okay, okay. Let’s try something else. What’s the opposite of Eye of the Tiger? Something calm, something soothing.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling frantically.

Piper’s energy crackled louder and the lights in the room flickered brighter than ever. “Ray, I don’t think a playlist is gonna fix this!”

Ray didn’t hear her, muttering to himself. “Smooth jazz? No, too cheesy. Classical? Too boring. Ooh, whale sounds!”

“Ray!” Piper’s voice was sharp, panic lacing her tone as the energy reached a fever pitch.

Realizing the music wasn’t coming in time, Piper clapped her hands together in desperation. The room filled with a deafening crack as the energy burst outward in a final, chaotic surge. When the light faded, Piper stood in the middle of the room, panting, her hair slightly singed but otherwise unharmed.

The Man Cave, as Ray had anticipated, remained pristine.

Ray whistled, impressed. “Well, good news—this place is Piper-proof. Unlike the Man's Nest.”

“Bad news?” Piper asked, brushing a frazzled strand of hair out of her face.

Ray gestured to the fried speaker and his now-glitching phone. “My tech, not so much.”

Piper groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “This is hopeless. Every time I try to control it, it just gets worse.”

Ray plopped down next to her, his confident grin slipping into something almost reassuring. “Hey, come on. This was just round two. Nobody gets it right the first two times. We’ll just have to find another technique.”

“Another technique?” Piper asked sardonically. “Fine, but next time, I’m picking the music.” 

“Deal,” Ray agreed, leaning back. “But fair warning—I’ve got a strict no boy bands policy.”

“Good thing I wasn’t planning on asking for your opinion,” Piper shot back.

Ray chuckled, the tension easing as they settled into the quiet aftermath of their chaotic second session. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was a start.

“So,” Piper began hesitantly, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “It was my first day at the internship today.” She wasn’t sure why she was confiding in Ray, but somehow the words had just slipped out of her mouth.

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds promising.”

Piper let out a dry laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, not exactly. Logan’s there. And Krisha. And I messed up. So much for a great first impression.”

Ray blinked. “Am I supposed to know who you’re talking about here?”

Piper let out a heavy sigh, leaning her back in her seat. “They’re my coworkers at the internship. Krisha is Oliver’s cousin. The weird girl from the Man Fans. Has a ridiculously accurate sense of smell—remember her?”

Ray wrinkled his nose. “Oh, her. Yeah, vaguely. What’s she doing at a law firm?”

“Don’t ask,” Piper muttered, shaking her head before continuing. “And Logan? He’s my boyfriend’s best friend. We hate each other. It’s… complicated. But he made me look like an ass in front of my new boss today.”

Ray’s eyebrow arched higher, his interest piqued despite himself. "Sounds like you've got a lot going on in that internship of yours."

“Pretty much,” Piper groaned. “Logan’s been a thorn in my side since I met him. He’s always got something snarky to say, and today was no different. And of course, Radcliffe’s watching me like a hawk, so that last thing I needed was him getting a front-row seat to Logan’s ‘I’m-smarter-than-you’ act.”

Ray grinned slightly, though it held more understanding than humor. “Ah, office politics. Nothing quite like it to make you want to quit your life and become a hermit.”

“I can’t quit,” Piper said dryly, folding her arms. “It was my first day. If I screw this up, it’s over before it even starts.”

Ray paused, watching her for a moment. “Well, first off, you won’t screw it up. You’re here, training to control insane powers that could blow up a building if you’re not careful. What’s a little office drama compared to that?”

Piper cracked a smile, though it was fleeting. “I guess you have a point. But it’s still a mess. I don’t know how I’m supposed to show Radcliffe that I’m actually serious about my career. Plus, trying to figure out my powers and not having a clue what to do about… well, everything. Just makes me feel stupid.”

Ray studied her, his expression kind. “It’s a lot. I get that. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to figure it all out at once. You have time. You’re young. You don’t have to be perfect right now. Besides, if it’s any consolation, everyone goes through that first-day mess. And trust me, Logan’s probably just as much of a pain to everyone as he is to you.”

“Yeah, well,” Piper said, a small smirk tugging at her lips, “he’s the kind of guy who’ll be impossible to escape from. You know, charming, sharp, perfect in every way—except that his entire personality is an insult.”

Ray chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He paused for a moment, as if he was unsure if he should continue. “So… this boyfriend’s best-friend situation. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun either.”

Piper nodded, her face turning a bit more serious. "Yeah. It’s... complicated. Things with James are mostly fine, but then there's Logan, always hanging around, making me feel like I don't belong. And the fact that he doesn’t think I’m good enough for James doesn’t help."

Ray tilted his head. “What’s James got to say about it?”

“That’s the thing,” Piper said, her voice growing softer. “I don’t think he gets it. Like today—Logan’s got the internship, and apparently, James knew he’d be there. But he didn’t tell me. I found out when I walked into Radcliffe’s office, and there Logan was, being his smug, perfect self.”

Ray’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Piper admitted, her shoulders slumping. “We argued about it right before I came here. I get that he probably didn’t think it was a big deal, but…” She hesitated, her voice dropping. “I just felt blindsided. And when I told him how I felt, it was like he didn’t even listen. He brushed it off, like I was overreacting.”

Ray leaned back, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of people not taking you seriously today.”

Piper looked up at him, surprised by how accurately he’d hit the nail on the head. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.” Her voice was quieter now, almost like she was realizing it for the first time. “No one listens. Not really. I feel like I’m just… yelling into the void most of the time.”

As her frustration spiked, the lights overhead flickered faintly. Piper froze, her eyes darting upward.

Ray noticed, but he didn’t react. Instead, his expression faltered, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a faint smile, he said, “Well, I’m listening. So, spill it—what else is rattling around in that blonde head of yours?”

Piper blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. She hadn’t expected Ray to actually care, let alone pay attention. But here he was, giving her the space to let it all out. She hadn’t expected to feel this... heard. Normally, it felt like no one really listened when she spoke about her frustrations—her family, her friends, even James. They all had their own lives, their own problems. They didn’t have the time to focus on her insecurities. But here she was, sitting in the quiet Man Cave with Ray, of all people, and he was listening.

She exhaled shakily. “It’s just… everything. Radcliffe. Logan. James. This whole internship. And then there’s the training with you, which, no offense, hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. I don't even know where my brother is or if he's safe. Plus, I can’t stop thinking about the machine Schwoz used and how it malfunctioned. What if someone really is watching me? What if I can’t get a handle on my powers before it’s too late? It feels like I’m balancing a million things, and if I slip up even once, it’s all going to come crashing down.”

Ray nodded slowly, his eyes steady on hers. “That’s a lot, Piper. No wonder you feel like you’re drowning.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, her gaze dropping to her lap. “It’s like no matter what I do, I’m always one step behind.”

Ray leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I can’t pretend to know how you feel. But I can tell you this—no one’s got it all figured out. Not Radcliffe, not Logan, not James. Definitely not me. The only thing you can do is focus on what’s right in front of you. One thing at a time. The internship? You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. James? Give him a chance to understand, but don’t let him make you feel small. Your powers? That’s why you’re here. We’re gonna work on that together. And we'll find Henry. I know we will.”

Piper looked up at him, and for the first time that day, some of the weight in her chest seemed to lift. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple,” Ray said with a wry smile. “It’s just life. And it’s messy. But you’ve got this, Piper. I know you do.”

For a moment, Piper just stared at him, taken aback by his words. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear them—how much she’d needed someone to listen. Ray wasn’t just offering advice; he was showing her that he believed in her.

She quickly looked away, her gaze lingering on one of the old screens in the Man Cave, now completely silent. It was like it had been abandoned, much like she felt sometimes. She didn’t expect him, the man who had once been her favorite superhero, to have the time to listen to her personal mess. But here he was, offering advice, and—dare she say it—support.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, her voice quieter than before. "I’ve spent so much time focusing on not screwing everything up that I forgot what it means to just... let it be. To trust myself."

Ray nodded, his gaze steady. "Exactly. Control isn’t about forcing everything into line. It’s about learning how to coexist with it. Powers, internships, your relationships—it’s all about finding balance. You’re still figuring it out, and that’s fine. You’ll find that balance."

Piper turned back to him, a small but genuine smile on her face. The tension in her shoulders eased a little as she met his gaze. "Thanks, Ray. I didn’t expect you to actually get it, but you do."

For a moment, Ray didn’t respond. He simply looked at her, a quiet understanding between them, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, Piper felt seen. Not as Henry’s sister. Not as the girl with unpredictable powers or the one who always messes up. Just... her.

There was a slight pause before he spoke again. "I get it because I’ve had to learn to balance a lot too. Being Captain Man was great, but it didn’t solve everything. It took me a while to figure out that I could care about other things too—things like my relationship, my friends. Like being... human."

Piper blinked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. For the first time, she realized Ray wasn’t just some former superhero, cartoonish and unserious. He had his own struggles, his own balancing act.

Her chest tightened for a moment, a soft realization dawning on her. She was starting to see him differently—not just as the guy who once saved the day, but as someone who really understood the weight of trying to be more than what others expected.

As they stood up to resume the training, Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her had shifted. Maybe things weren’t as overwhelming as they seemed and she wasn’t as alone in this as she’d always felt.

And Ray, well, he was no longer just the guy who’d helped her brother. For the first time, she saw him not just as Captain Man, but as a real person—someone who cared, who listened, and who, against all odds, made her feel heard.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 | House Guest

The Hart family kitchen buzzed with the comforting rhythm of a typical morning. Kris was at the stove flipping pancakes with an almost meditative calm, the aroma of butter and syrup filling the air. Piper sat at the table, her tablet propped up against a saltshaker as she reviewed notes from her internship. Her neatly packed bag sat at her feet, ready for another grueling day of work.

“Pancakes are almost ready, sweetie,” Kris called over her shoulder. “Do you want blueberries in yours or plain?”

“Plain’s fine,” Piper said absently, scrolling through her to-do list. Radcliffe had emailed her about prepping files for a high-profile case, and she was mentally reviewing the firm’s filing system to avoid looking incompetent.

Kris glanced at her daughter and smiled. “You’re really diving into this internship, huh?”

“Yup,” Piper mumbled, too distracted to offer more than a noncommittal grunt. Her eyes flicked to the clock. If she timed it right, she’d have just enough time to eat, get out the door, and avoid morning traffic.

The doorbell rang, breaking the calm.

Kris frowned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Who could that be this early?”

“Probably some delivery guy,” Piper muttered, reluctantly pushing her chair back. “I’ll handle it. Just keep my pancakes warm.”

She padded toward the front door, heels clacking, fully expecting a package or an aggressive Girl Scout.

What she got instead was Schwoz, grinning like a gnome who had just stumbled upon a treasure trove. At his feet: a battered suitcase, an aggressively stuffed duffel, and something that looked like a cross between a generator and a war crime.

“Schwoz?” she said slowly. “Why do you look like you’re about to ruin my credit score?”

“Good morning, Piper!” Schwoz greeted her with a grin so wide it practically wrapped around his face. “I have come to move in!”

Piper stared. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“Moving in!” he repeated brightly, as if this were a thing people did.

Piper blinked again, slower this time. “I’m sorry, I think you meant ‘visit briefly with no overnight bags’?”

He gestured grandly to the luggage. “I have calculated that this household is ideal for temporary—possibly permanent—habitation.”

“You did calculations?”

“Yes!” he beamed. “Based on warmth, Wi-Fi signal, and emotional safety. Your house is the optimal choice. Cozy. Centrally located. Equipped with motherly warmth and a moderate supply of cereal.”

“You’re not wrong,” Piper said, crossing her arms. “But since when do you need a place? What happened to the Man’s Nest?”

“I was living in the tubing system,” he said gravely. “At night I could hear things. The walls were… whispering.”

Piper recoiled. “You’ve been sleeping in the slides?”

“It was not ideal,” he admitted, rubbing his back. “Also there is a persistent scent of raccoon pee. I tried to neutralize it with lilac candles but now it smells like floral nightmares.”

Piper’s face twisted. “Okay, ew. What about the Man Cave?”

He sniffed. “Ray’s old bachelor cave? That place gives me emotional mold. It feels haunted by Ray's bad decisions.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

Piper raised an eyebrow. “What about Ray’s actual house?”

Schwoz looked personally insulted. “He lives with Credenza now. They keep doing gross couple things. Last time I walked in, they were watching Notting Hill and crying. I had to leave for my own emotional safety.”

Piper nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, that sounds traumatic.”

“Exactly! So naturally, I’ve come to live with you. You are emotionally predictable and have acceptable furniture.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week."

“I mean it sincerely.”

“Yeah okay, fair. Still. You could’ve called first.”

“I wanted it to be a fun surprise!”

She crossed her arms, giving him a long-suffering look—but there was no bite in it. “You brought a generator, Schwoz.”

“Just a little one!”

“For what?”

“In case of emergencies. Or breakfast.”

Piper groaned. “Schwoz, come on. You could’ve said something. I thought we told each other everything? You’ve been crashing in a glorified air duct while I’ve been out here pretending to be a functioning adult?”

He placed a hand on his heart. “I didn’t want to bother you. You’re so busy with your internship, and law stuff, and short-circuting things around you without Ray noticing…”

Her glare sharpened, but only playfully. “You’re deflecting.”

“I am absolutely deflecting,” he agreed cheerfully. "But I didn't want to add to your stress."

Before she could protest further, Kris peeked around the corner. “Piper, who was at the—Oh! Schwoz!” Her voice went up an entire octave in delighted surprise. “What a treat!”

“Henry’s Mom!” Schwoz beamed. “You look radiant and breakfast-themed!”

“Well, aren’t you sweet.” Kris wiped her hands on her apron and smiled. “What brings you by?”

“He’s moving in,” Piper deadpanned. “Apparently.”

“Just for a little while!” Schwoz added quickly. “Until my back realigns and Ray stops doing relationship yoga in the living room.”

Piper turned to her mom with a look that said please tell him no so I don’t have to.

Kris’s smile widened. “Well of course you can stay! Henry’s room is empty, and you’re always welcome here.”

Piper held up both hands. “Mom. Mom. I love him, but you’re inviting Schwoz to cohabitate. Remember what happened the last time he tried to ‘fix’ our dishwasher?”

Schwoz looked pained. “That raccoon escaped.”

“You put it in the dishwasher,” Piper said flatly.

“To test its speed!”

Kris giggled. “Oh, it’s just for a bit, Piper. Be nice.”

Piper sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. Instead, she reached down and grabbed his duffel bag. “Fine. But no feral appliances. And if you try to reroute the oven into a particle accelerator again—like you did in my dorm kitchen—I’m throwing you out the window.”

“That’s fair,” Schwoz nodded. “But if I did need to build a mini collider, Henry’s closet has excellent acoustics.”

“Nope. Bedroom. Not lab.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

Schwoz clutched his generator protectively. “Can I at least store my radiation-free isotopes in the garage?”

Piper narrowed her eyes. “Define ‘radiation-free.’”

“They only glow in the dark a little.”

Piper groaned and looked skyward. “This is going to end in property damage.”

Kris clapped her hands. “Come in, come in! Piper, help him upstairs.”

As Piper trailed him toward the stairs, she muttered, “If Henry’s room has a trapdoor by next week, I’m suing myself.”

Schwoz turned, walking backwards with his suitcase swinging dangerously close to a lamp. “You’ll thank me when the lair’s finished.”

"Schwoz.”

“Just saying.”

“You’re sleeping. In a room. Like a person.”

“Define ‘like a person.’”

Piper paused, grinned, then shoved the duffel into his arms. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I know,” he said proudly, and trudged up the stairs like a triumphant science mule.

The fluorescent lights hummed softly as Piper entered the meeting room, her laptop clutched tightly in her hands.

Logan was already seated at the sleek conference table, his posture relaxed, his dark jacket giving him an air of effortless authority. He leaned back in his chair, the soft click of his tablet the only sound in the room, as if he had all the time in the world.

“You’re late,” he said without even bothering to look up, his voice dripping with his signature arrogance.

Piper rolled her eyes, setting her things down with a little more force than necessary. “I’m two minutes early.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, finally glancing up at her with a satisfied look. “I’ve been here for five.”

Before Piper could offer her usual sarcastic response, the door opened with a soft creak, and in walked Radcliffe, his expression as severe and unapproachable as always. He was the type of boss who carried an aura of authority that demanded silence upon his arrival.

He dropped a heavy case of files onto the table in front of Piper with a thud that made her flinch. Her eyes immediately darted to the top of the folder. There it was—Mallory & Hart—written in bold, unyielding font.

Her stomach sank.

“Mr. Radcliffe…” Piper said, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t need to ask what it was. She already knew. There was only one reason he’d pair her with Logan: punishment.

Radcliffe’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, past Piper, and to Logan. “Mallory. Hart. Your new project. Congratulations, you’re partners.”

Logan’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

“Great,” Piper muttered, rolling her eyes. “The universe truly hates me.”

The door opened again with and in waddled the client. Piper froze, staring at the unmistakably unkempt blonde hair, oversized glasses, and a scowl that could melt steel.

“Ms. Shapen?” Piper said, almost too stunned to speak.

Ms. Shapen’s eyes narrowed as she adjusted her glasses, taking a seat in the nearest chair with a flustered huff. “Oh, great. Just what I need. Another Hart to give me a headache.”

Piper blinked, almost recoiling from the wave of nostalgia—and dread—that hit her. “Good to see you too.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the exchange. “You two know each other?”

“She was my brother’s teacher,” Piper said quietly.

Logan stepped in smoothly, offering his hand with that irritatingly perfect smile. “Logan Mallory. It’s a pleasure, Ms. Shapen. I see you’re already acquainted with Piper Hart. We’re here to help with your case.”

Ms. Shapen ignored Logan’s hand disdainfully. “You look like someone who was too popular in high school to actually be good at anything.”

Piper snorted, earning a glare from Logan.

Radcliffe’s eyes flicked between the pair, his face tight with that professional mask that never seemed to waver. “Piper, Logan, I trust you can handle Ms. Shapen’s case.” He turned, as if to leave.

Piper shot him a look, clearly skeptical. “You’re leaving us with her?”

“Don’t mess this up,” Radcliffe said over his shoulder, the door swinging shut behind him.

Once the door clicked closed, Piper and Logan exchanged a glance.

Logan straightened, his smirk faltering. “So, Ms. Shapen, why don’t you tell us about your case?”

Ms. Shapen let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting her oversized glasses once more as she settled into the chair. “Well, if I must.” She paused, giving both of them a pointed look, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“You see,” she began, her voice thick with exasperation, “I’m here because my no-good ex-husband refuses to pay me what he owes. He’s living the high life while I’m stuck with—” she gestured vaguely to herself “—this.” She gave herself a quick once-over, as though she had been dealt some great injustice by the universe for simply existing.

Piper’s eyebrows knitted together, clearly confused. “What exactly is it that he owes you?”

“Alimony, child support, the basic decency that comes with a divorce settlement!” Ms. Shapen snapped. “I was married to him for years, and all I get in return is a pile of bills and him driving around in a Porsche while I’m stuck with this sorry excuse for a sedan.” She pointed accusingly at an imaginary car outside the window. “Where’s the justice in that, huh? The man can barely string a sentence together without lying, and now he’s pretending to be poor! It's infuriating!”

Logan shifted in his seat, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re saying he’s lying about his finances?”

“Exactly!” Ms. Shapen’s face lit up with relief that someone finally understood. “That’s why I’m here. He’s claiming he can’t afford to pay me, but I know for a fact that he’s out there flaunting his wealth. Drives that stupid Porsche every day like it’s nothing. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, dealing with you two.” She glared at them both dramatically, as if they were part of the problem.

Piper blinked, trying to process it all. “Okay, so you want us to prove he’s lying about his financial situation and get him to pay up?”

“Finally!” Ms. Shapen said, slapping the table in exaggerated triumph. “Yes! That’s exactly it! And make sure that no-good, freeloading ex of mine pays for every penny he’s been trying to get out of!”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his usual smirk returning. “We’ll get right on it. But, just so we’re clear, you want us to expose him for lying about being broke and make him fork over the cash?”

“Yes! And then,” Ms. Shapen added with a wicked gleam in her eye, “I want him to suffer. Let him know I did something right for once in my life. The nerve of that man...”

Piper sighed, already regretting this case. “Got it. We’ll do our best to get you what you’re owed, Ms. Shapen.”

Ms. Shapen stood up, adjusting her glasses again and looking down at both of them. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said, her voice turning suddenly cold. “I’m not going to tolerate any mistakes. None. I’ve had enough of people being useless. So, you two better not mess this up.”

Logan shot Piper a sideways glance as he stood up to shake Ms. Shapen’s hand—again, his hand was ignored. “Understood, Ms. Shapen. We’ll make sure your ex doesn’t get away with it.”

“Good. Now, I’m off to complain about how long this is all taking,” Ms. Shapen said, brushing past them toward the door. “Don’t take too long, alright? I don’t have all day to waste on you young people.”

As Ms. Shapen reached the door, she turned around one last time, her sharp gaze landing on Piper. “And one more thing, young lady,” she said, her tone cutting through the air. “Tell Henry I said hi. Though I doubt he’s even capable of saying anything halfway intelligent, let alone making any progress in his life.”

Piper froze, her fingers hovering over her laptop keyboard, as she gave a strained smile. “I’ll make sure to pass it along, Ms. Shapen.”

“Good,” Ms. Shapen said with a satisfied nod before leaving the room.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Piper let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She looked at Logan, who was trying—and failing—to hold back a laugh.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Piper said flatly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she faced him.

A smirk played at Logan’s lips. “Who, me? I’m just taking in the moment,” he said, clearly relishing the discomfort. “It’s not every day I get paired up with the person who can’t even keep a straight face under pressure. I’m just surprised you didn’t throw a hissy fit when she started in on your brother.”

Piper narrowed her eyes, keeping her voice steady. “This partnership is a punishment for both of us, remember? If I had my way, I wouldn’t be stuck with you any more than you want to be stuck with me.”

Logan snickered, pushing the file aside as if disinterested. “Oh, but Hart, I’m just thrilled to be working with you. Truly. It’s like a dream come true.”

Piper shot him a withering glare, her arms still crossed tightly as she leaned against the table.

“And you know what?” he continued. “I think it’s kind of adorable how hard you’re trying to act like you’re in control. Like you’re not already planning your escape.”

Piper clenched her jaw. “You think I’m trying to escape?”

Logan shrugged, clearly enjoying the irritation he was provoking. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious. You’ve been avoiding any real responsibility since we sat down. How long before you just give up and let me handle everything?”

“I’m not giving up,” Piper snapped, leaning forward. “I can handle this just fine without your help, thank you very much.”

Logan chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But why bother, right? I’m here to do the heavy lifting.”

Piper shot him a venomous look but didn’t respond. She wasn’t about to let him bait her into an argument. Instead, she grabbed the case file, flipping it open to avoid making eye contact with him.

Logan watched her for a moment before continuing, his voice low and sarcastic. “You know, it’s kind of cute how you think you’ve got this all figured out. But just so we’re clear, I’m here to make sure you don’t screw this up. You’re welcome.”

Piper’s grip on the file tightened as her patience wore thin. “You’re not in charge here, Logan.”

“Right, because Radcliffe totally trusted you to run the show,” Logan retorted with a dry chuckle. “Oh, wait. He didn’t. He paired us up. Together. Against both our wills.” He leaned back in his chair with that smug smile of his. “Just a little reminder for you.”

Piper’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but she didn’t let him see how much he was getting under her skin. “Just stay out of my way, and I’ll get this done.”

Logan tilted his head, pretending to consider her request. “Hmm, tempting. But honestly, I’m not sure I can resist watching you try to fail on your own.”

Piper narrowed her eyes. “I’m not failing.”

“Sure, sure,” Logan drawled. “Keep telling yourself that. But I’ll be right here, waiting for the inevitable crash and burn.”

Piper gritted her teeth but forced herself to focus on the file. “I don’t need you to wait around for anything, Logan. If you really want to help, why don’t you start reviewing the financial documents like you promised?”

Logan’s grin widened. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get to it. After all, you’re the one with the ‘plan,’ right? I’m just here for the entertainment.”

Piper rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “You’re insufferable.”

“I know,” Logan said smoothly. “But hey, if this goes south, I’ll be sure to remind Radcliffe who’s really responsible. No pressure.”

Piper shot him a pointed glare, trying to ignore the frustration bubbling up inside. He loved nothing more than getting under her skin, but she wasn’t about to let him derail her. She just had to prove she could handle this—with or without him.

Her hand shook slightly as her frustration grew, and she slammed the file onto the table with more force than she intended.

Without warning, there was a sharp crackle, and Logan’s tablet—resting on the table in front of him—fizzed violently before the screen went completely black.

Piper froze, her eyes wide. No, no, no... She hadn’t meant to do that. Her anger had just... escaped. The electrical surge she kept under control had been too much, and it fried his tablet in a blink. Her hand was still hovering near the table, and she pulled it back quickly, her pulse quickening as she tried to calm herself.

But Logan, completely unaware, didn’t seem to notice the oddity of what had just happened. He casually glanced down at the tablet, frowning as he tapped at the screen a few times. “Great. That’s just perfect,” he muttered, clearly irritated. “I was in the middle of something important.”

Piper’s eyes darted to the tablet, hoping he wouldn't put two and two together. She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to sound nonchalant. “Maybe you should take better care of your tech.”

Logan barely looked up from his dead tablet. “Right, sure. Must’ve been a glitch or something.” He paused, then added with a shrug, “Guess I’ll just have to go without it.”

Piper bit her lip, doing her best to mask the sudden wave of panic. She didn’t want him to notice, didn’t want him to think she was that out of control. She glanced at him, noticing how oblivious he seemed, and a surge of frustration flooded her again.

Logan didn’t look up as he picked up the tablet and dropped it on the side of the table. “I’ll deal with it later. Let’s just focus on this case. You do whatever you do best, and I’ll handle the stuff that’s actually important.”

Piper gritted her teeth, her fists tightening at her sides. “Just stay out of my way, Logan. I’ve got this.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d provoked her. “I’ll be over here, ready to remind you if you screw it up,” he teased, leaning back in his chair with that same smug look.

Piper fought to keep herself in check, the nerves gnawing at her as she flipped through the file. Don’t let him see it. Just focus on the case, Piper. If she wasn’t careful, the next thing she’d destroy would be something far more important than his stupid tablet.

Piper slammed the front door behind her, nearly knocking over the coat rack as she stomped inside. Her blazer was wrinkled, her hair were frizzing in all directions, and the leftover rage from her new case with Logan hadn’t even begun to fade. She dropped her bag by the couch like it had personally betrayed her and headed for the stairs—only to freeze.

The living room looked like a sci-fi crime scene.

Her parents were crouched around a large chrome contraption with blinking lights, a smoothie blender fused to the top, and what looked suspiciously like a mini turret attached to one side. Wires snaked across the carpet. Fruit pulp decorated the floor like modern art. And in the middle of it all stood Schwoz, wearing a welding mask and holding a power drill like a sword.

Piper stared.

Jake grinned up at her. “Sweetheart! You’re just in time to witness history!”

Kris turned with a gleam in her eye, holding what appeared to be a smoothie-filled syringe. “It vacuums and makes breakfast!”

Schwoz lifted his mask, his face covered in what was either grease or banana. “Technically, it purées and purges!”

Piper blinked. Then slowly turned back toward the door like she was seriously considering walking back out.

“Guys,” she said through gritted teeth. “What. Is. This?”

“Family bonding!” Kris chirped, completely immune to the tension radiating from her daughter. “We’re innovating! Schwoz had this brilliant idea to combine cleaning with nutrition—isn't it amazing?"

“It was actually my idea,” Jake said proudly, giving Schwoz a one-armed hug. “I call it the Smooth-Roomba™!”

Schwoz gave Piper a sheepish grin. “To be clear, I told them it was impractical. But then I blacked out and built most of it anyway.”

Piper blinked slowly. “Okay. First of all, I am deeply afraid of whatever that sentence means. Second—why is this happening in my living room?”

Jake looked mildly offended. “This is our living room.”

“No, it stopped being our living room the second it started launching fruit at people,” Piper snapped, pointing at the banana peel stuck to the ceiling fan.

“I added a security function,” Schwoz offered, trying to sound helpful.

“Why,” she asked, eyes dead.

“In case someone tries to steal your smoothie,” he replied, like it was obvious.

As if on cue, the machine whirred to life. Lights flashed. A metallic voice screamed, “INTRUDER DETECTED!” and a half-blended mango shot across the room, missing Piper’s head by inches and splattering against a lampshade.

Kris clapped. “It works!”

“Mom,” Piper said slowly, “define ‘works.’”

Schwoz rushed over and unplugged the machine, muttering in German-inflected gibberish. “Okay, okay—minor issue. I’ll recalibrate the fruit pelting trajectory. Maybe lower the aggression dial—”

“Or,” Piper interrupted, hand raised like she was blessing his silence, “you move it out of my line of sight so I don’t have a breakdown next to the kitchen island.”

“Totally fair,” Schwoz nodded, dragging the machine sideways. “I’ll move it next to the couch. Less threatening.”

“I just vacuumed in here this morning,” Piper muttered, rubbing her temples. “Then I went to my internship where grown adults throw legal briefs at each other like dodgeballs, and now I get home and I’m ducking airborne produce.” She turned to Schwoz. “I love you, but I swear, if this thing starts talking back, I’m yeeting it out the window.”

Schwoz held up both hands, eyes wide with faux innocence. “Too late. It already says ‘good morning’ in four languages.”

Piper exhaled through her nose. “This is why you should build this in your own lab at the Man's Nest.”

Jake flopped onto the couch. “Come on, Pipes. This is the most family bonding we’ve done all week!”

“Yeah,” Schwoz added brightly. “You’re usually into my questionable robotics projects. Remember the microwave that could read your mood?”

“It kept playing Enya when I was angry.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “She’s soothing.”

Piper let out a long sigh, arms crossed, weight shifting onto one foot. “Look, I’m not saying I hate it. I’m just... not in the mood for homicidal smoothies today.”

Schwoz's expression softened immediately, the grin slipping just slightly. “Bad day?”

She glanced at him, caught the rare flicker of sincerity in his usually chaotic face, and her shoulders relaxed just a little. “Worse than bad.”

Schwoz nodded like he understood every unspoken word. “Okay. I’ll clean up the mango crime scene. You go change.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, starting for the stairs.

 “Piper, sweetie,” Kris called sweetly from behind the couch. “Once you've changed—and Schwoz has recalibrated the fruit pelting trajectory—do you want to help us attach the cup dispenser or should I let your dad do it again?”

“Let Dad do it,” she grumbled. “He clearly wants to go to the ER today. And I have other plans.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Where could be more important than family smoothie-robot time?”

“Anywhere,” Piper muttered.

“Good luck with your training! And say hi to Ray for me!” Schwoz called as she reached the stairs again.

Piper paused, hand on the railing. “Will do,” she said simply, this time without sarcasm. “And thanks… for not making a big deal about it.”

Schwoz gave her a small smile, surprising in its sincerity. “I like seeing you do something just for you.”

She blinked, caught off-guard. Then grumbled, “Well stop being weirdly supportive. It’s messing with my sarcasm levels.”

“I can recalibrate those too.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay. But at least you're working on controlling your top-secret powers you don’t want your parents to know about.”

Jake squinted. “What?”

“Nothing,” Piper said quickly. “Go back to wiring death fruit into our floorboards.”

Kris called after her, “We’ll save you a smoothie once the robot stops attacking people!”

“Appreciate it,” Piper muttered, trudging up the stairs.

Behind her, the machine let out a faint boop and reactivated.

“DEFENSE MODE: STRAWBERRY SWIRL.”

“Schwoz!” she yelled from upstairs.

“I’m fixing it!!” he yelled back, already halfway under it with a wrench in his mouth and a look of deep joy in his eyes.

Piper pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is my villain origin story.”

She slammed her bedroom door behind her, hoping that a few minutes away from her family’s shenanigans would be enough to get her focused on the real chaos waiting for her at the Man Cave.

As the elevator doors slide open and Piper stepped into the Man Cave, she was met with a strange combination of calm and chaos: foam mats and yoga blocks were scattered across the floor, and Ray stood in the middle of it all, frowning at a yoga strap as if it had personally wronged him.

On the couch, Buddy was sitting cross-legged, fiddling with one of his devices. He looked up and waved cheerfully as Piper entered.

“Hey, Piper!” Buddy said with a big grin. “Ray said I could watch your training. He said it’s always exciting.”

“Exciting is one word for it,” Piper muttered, setting her bag down. She glanced around at the mats and yoga gear. “What is all this? Are we training, or are you opening a yoga studio?”

Ray looked up, unbothered by her sarcasm. “Today's lesson is all about mind-body control. You’re going to learn to use your powers while maintaining precise physical movements.”

“Uh-huh,” Piper said, raising an eyebrow. “And you think yoga is going to turn me into some kind of zen superhero?”

Ray smirked. “I don’t think anything can turn you Zen, but this is a start. It’s about focus, discipline, and—"

“Electrocution?” Piper cut in, raising an eyebrow.

Ray rolled his eyes. “Control, Piper. It’s about control. If you ever want to use your powers effectively, you need to be able to multitask. That means being able to generate energy without frying everything in sight—”

“Like Logan’s tablet,” Piper muttered under her breath.

Ray paused, eyebrows raising with interest. “You fried someone’s tablet?”

“Not on purpose,” Piper said defensively. “It was Logan’s tablet. He was being insufferable, and my powers just… reacted. The thing practically disintegrated.”

Ray nodded solemnly, like a coach addressing a critical game strategy. “See? That’s exactly why we’re doing this. No one wants to be the girl who accidentally blows up every device in a five-foot radius. Now, plank position.”

Piper groaned, but she moved onto the mat as instructed. Ray placed a small gadget—a light bulb attached to a meter—next to her.

“The goal,” Ray said, holding up the bulb, “is to generate a small, controlled pulse of energy. Just enough to light this up. But you’ll have to do it while holding a plank.”

Piper sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

As she got into position, Buddy scooted closer, watching intently. “You’ve got this, Piper! Just stay calm and focused.”

“Thanks, Buddy,” Piper said, flashing him a quick smile before turning her attention to the task.

Ray knelt beside her. “Alright, start the plank. Engage your core, keep your back straight, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how to do a plank,” Piper snapped, gritting her teeth as she balanced herself.

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Do you, though? Because that looks more like a saggy hammock than a plank.”

Piper shot him a deadly look. “Say one more word, and I’m zapping you instead of the bulb.”

“Promises, promises,” Ray said, smirking.

Piper grumbled as she adjusted her posture, holding herself up on her elbows. The plank was already testing her patience, and they hadn’t even gotten to the energy part. She shot a glare at Ray.

“I bet you couldn’t hold a plank for thirty seconds.”

Ray grinned. “Retirement’s treating me just fine, thanks. I’ve earned my right to stand and supervise.”

“Lazy,” Piper muttered.

“What was that?” Ray asked, cupping a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you over the sound of you complaining instead of training.”

She adjusted her posture. “Happy now?” she asked, her voice strained from the effort.

Ray stood over her with his arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased. “Not until you light the bulb. Controlled pulses, remember? Let’s see some progress.”

Piper muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “controlled my butt,” but she focused, narrowing her eyes at the small bulb. A faint crackle of energy sparked from her fingers, and the bulb flickered to life.

“Ha! Did it!” Piper said, smirking as the light glowed steadily.

“Good start,” Ray said. “Now hold it. No sudden surges, no frying it, and—”

POP!

The bulb shattered, scattering tiny shards across the mat. Piper yelped, dropping her plank and falling flat on the floor.

Ray winced. “Well, so much for baby steps.”

Buddy leaned forward, holding out the meter with wide eyes. “Whoa, Piper, that was awesome! The needle jumped all the way into the red!”

Ray groaned, shaking his head. “Buddy, that’s not the point. We’re aiming for precision, not power.”

“Sorry!” Buddy said quickly, his expression genuinely apologetic. “It was still really cool, though.”

Piper sat up, brushing bits of glass off her shirt. “Cool for you, maybe. I’m the one who just face-planted into a yoga mat. This is ridiculous. I’m supposed to control energy, not vaporize everything I touch.”

Ray crouched down beside her. “Don’t get discouraged just yet. It’s hard. But you need to learn to focus that energy—slow it down, use it intentionally. Control, not chaos.”

Buddy chimed in, “That’s just like what my dad always says! He says you gotta know when to let it go and when to reel it in.”

Ray stiffened slightly at the mention of Drex, but it was barely noticeable. He cleared his throat and gave Buddy a strained smile. “Uh, yeah. Well, some people might have a different perspective on that.”

Piper noticed the shift in Ray’s mood but didn’t press it. She turned her attention back to another light bulb, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Okay. Plank. Control. Focus.” She locked her gaze on the new light bulb, silently repeating those words to herself.

This time, she managed to hold the plank longer. The energy inside her felt more contained, less erratic. She carefully focused her energy toward the light bulb, not rushing it.

The bulb flickered on. Not as bright as she wanted, but it was steady.

“Nice!” Ray said, his eyes glinting with approval. “That’s better. You’ve got it. Keep that focus, and you’ll get stronger.”

Piper held the plank for a few more seconds, feeling the strain in her arms. “I’ll take what I can get,” she muttered. “One bulb at a time.”

Buddy, ever the optimist, gave her a thumbs-up. “See? I knew you could do it! You’re totally gonna be the best at controlling your energy powers! You’re like... a walking, talking light show!”

Piper cracked a smile despite herself. “Thanks, Buddy. Just don’t stand too close. I’m still figuring out how not to blow stuff up.”

Ray, still watching closely, added, “You’re getting there, Piper. Just remember, it’s all about balance.”

Piper let out a deep breath, collapsing to the floor. “I’m starting to think the only balance I need is between doing this and never trying yoga again.”

Buddy laughed. “Yoga’s not so bad! My dad used to do it all the time—well, before he had a bunch of stuff to do, you know, being the biggest bad guy in Swellview.”

At the mention of Drex, Ray’s smile faltered again, and Piper caught a glimpse of discomfort in his eyes before he masked it with a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sure Drex loved yoga. He probably had his own twist on it.”

Buddy, still completely unaware of the tension, grinned. “He did! He called it ‘Destroyer Yoga.’ He always tried to make things more intense than they had to be.”

Ray’s lips pressed into a tight smile as he looked away. “Yeah, that sounds like Drex alright.” He quickly cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s move on to something else.”

“Alright,” Piper said, getting back onto her feet, “What’s next?”

Ray picked up another bulb and replaced the shattered one. “This one’s simple. You’re going to walk through the cones, nice and slow, while keeping a steady electrical charge going. No sparks, no explosions. Just a gentle flow of energy.”

Piper snorted. “This isn’t training—it’s an obstacle course for toddlers.”

“Which makes it perfect for you,” Ray shot back.

Piper groaned but started through the cones, her steps deliberate. Tiny sparks crackled around her fingertips as she tried to maintain a steady pulse. For a moment, it seemed like she might actually manage it.

“You’re doing great!” Buddy cheered, clapping his hands.

Piper shot him a quick smile, which turned into a scowl when Ray added, “Yeah, try not to trip over your own feet.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Piper muttered.

She was almost at the end of the cones when Buddy piped up again. “Hey, Piper, do you think you could charge a scooter with your powers? My dad said—”

Ray cut him off quickly. “Will you quit bringing up your dad!”

The sudden shift in tone distracted Piper, and her pulse spiked. A loud zap! echoed through the Man Cave as her charge surged. The last cone exploded into a puff of smoke, sending Piper stumbling backward.

“Seriously?” she said, glaring at Ray. “Maybe don’t yell next time I’m trying to focus!”

Ray held up his hands defensively. “That’s on Buddy, not me.”

Buddy’s face turned pink. “I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to mess you up.”

Piper sighed, waving him off. “It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Ray grabbed a yoga strap and handed it to her. “Final exercise. Tree pose. One leg up, hands together, and keep your energy steady. No interruptions this time.”

“Tree pose?” Piper asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s next, meditation and chanting?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Ray said dryly. “Now focus.”

Piper grumbled but lifted one leg, balancing precariously while bringing her hands together in front of her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to channel her energy into a steady rhythm.

For a moment, it seemed like she had it. Sparks danced lightly at her fingertips, and the room stayed blissfully silent.

Then Buddy whispered to Ray, “Do you think her powers would work underwater?”

Ray’s eyes widened. “Buddy, why would you—”

“Shh!” Piper snapped, her eyes still closed. “No talking! I’m actually doing it!”

Buddy mimed zipping his lips, and Ray rolled his eyes. Piper took another deep breath, concentrating harder. The energy at her fingertips grew brighter, more controlled—until her balance wavered.

She flailed, trying to catch herself, but her powers surged instead. The energy shot out, ricocheting off the walls and striking a nearby yoga block.

The block exploded into a cloud of foam.

Ray sighed heavily. “Well, at least it wasn’t my tech this time.”

Buddy clapped anyway, smiling brightly. “That was so cool! You’re really getting the hang of it, Piper.”

Piper frowned at him, still catching her breath. “If this is me ‘getting the hang of it,’ I’d hate to see what failing looks like.”

Ray shook his head. “We’ll try again tomorrow. For now, let’s just hope Schwoz doesn’t notice the scorch marks.”

Piper gave a dry laugh as she sat up. “He won’t. He’s too busy installing laser sensors on our dishwasher.”

Ray blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Yeah,” Piper said, brushing foam bits off her shirt. “He moved into our house this morning. Brought, like, six duffel bags, a portable generator, two toolkits, and a mini fridge filled with pickles and uranium—don’t ask.

Buddy perked up. “Wait, Schwoz is living with you now? That’s awesome!”

Piper nodded. “My mom basically adopted him the second he showed up. And my dad’s obsessed—they’re building a smoothie-making robot vacuum in the living room. I walked in after work and it flung a mango at my face.

Buddy looked impressed. “That’s so cool! He could teach you to build, like, electricity gloves or a rocket bed or—”

Ray cut in with a forced chuckle. “Schwoz moved into your house and didn’t even tell me?”

Piper raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“I mean…” Ray blinked, as if he had just been plugged in. “I just figured he’d still be at the Man’s Nest. Or maybe, I don’t know—mention it before packing up and redecorating your living room with mood lighting and mystery jars.”

“Apparently he was living in the tubing system,” Piper said, voice dry. “And according to him, it smelled like ‘raccoon despair.’”

Ray stood, dusting off his hands. “Huh. He didn't tell me any of that.”

Piper blinked. “Didn’t he? I thought you two were texting all morning about that exploding pen thing.”

Ray opened his mouth, then shut it again. “He said he was staying ‘somewhere safe.’ I didn’t realize that meant your house.”

“Yeah," Piper said, shrugging. "He also said the Man Cave was haunted with your bad decisions and that your house was too emotionally codependent.”

Ray blinked again. “He said that?”

“You and Credenza were watching Notting Hill and crying,” Piper deadpanned.

Buddy nodded solemnly. “My mom says Notting Hill is a gateway emotion.”

Ray’s ears actually turned pink. “Okay, that… that was one time. And she was crying. I was—”

“Blinking aggressively with emotion?”

“—dust in the air, actually.”

“I’m not judging,” Piper said. “But Schwoz was. Loudly.”

Ray shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Schwoz is a grown man. He doesn’t have to check in with me every time he relocates. I just figured he was still holed up in the Man’s Nest, building toaster-ray guns or whatever.”

“Well,” Piper said, standing and stretching her arms, “he’s holed up in Henry’s room now.”

Ray went completely still. Just for a beat.

“…Henry’s room?” he echoed, his voice quieter.

Piper glanced at Ray, noticing his expression shift ever so slightly. It was subtle, but there was something almost wistful in his eyes, like he felt a bit left out of the loop. 

“Yup,” she said, suddenly gentler. “Apparently the acoustics are ideal for isotopes that glow in the dark. I don’t ask questions anymore.”

Ray tried to laugh. It came out wrong. “Huh. Right. Of course it is.”

Piper tilted her head. “You okay?”

Ray forced a smile. “Yeah, no, I’m good. Just… didn’t know. He usually crashes with me when he’s between experiments. Guess he upgraded.”

There it was—that flicker again. Something quiet and hollow under the joke.

They fell into a quiet beat. Buddy had wandered off to see if the auto-snacker was restocked. The training mat still smelled like smoke.

Piper nudged him with her foot. “Ray.”

“I said I’m good,” he said again, still smiling. But now she could see how hard he was holding it there. “Just… didn’t realize how fast people move on, I guess.”

That landed heavier than she expected.

But before she could say anything else, her phone buzzed.

She glanced down. A text from her mom: smoothie: ready | mango mode: disabled | all ready for you once you're home!

Piper stood taller, brushing leftover foam from her legs. “Looks like the vacuum-smoothie-situation survived the day. My reward is strawberry chaos in a cup.”

Ray gave a weak laugh. “Well, drink it fast.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thanks for today. Even if I nearly zapped a yoga mat into another dimension.”

“You’re getting better,” Ray said. “You really are.”

Piper offered him a crooked smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Tomorrow.”

She gave him a two-finger salute and disappeared through the elevator.

Ray stood there for a long moment after the doors slid shut. His arms crossed over his chest, fingers tapping silently against his elbow.

Henry’s room.

Schwoz in Henry’s room. With Henry’s family.

His jaw tightened just slightly.

It wasn’t that he felt left behind—he didn't. He had his own life now, living with Credenza and Buddy and enjoying his retirement. But something about the image of Schwoz choosing to live in Piper's house and not his, making smoothies with Jake, laughing with Kris, tinkering in Henry’s old room while Piper smiled about it like it was normal—it hit something raw. 

Ray exhaled slowly through his nose, shook his head, and turned back to clean up the training gear.

He didn’t say it out loud, but it rang in the back of his mind anyway: He didn't even tell me.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 | Fake Henry

The kitchen buzzed with noise as the Hart family settled into dinner. Well—most of them.

Piper sat at the table, stabbing her broccoli with more force than necessary. Across from her, Schwoz was mid–turkey sandwich, gesturing animatedly with one hand while the other clutched a pickle.

“And when I combine the pressure from the vacuum pump with a mild electric pulse,” he said through a mouthful, “it will clean the windows and project a motivational hologram!"

Jake lit up. “Motivational and practical? That’s what I’m talking about!”

Kris beamed. “Can it do ‘Live, Laugh, Love’?”

“Of course,” Schwoz said proudly. “Or ‘Grind Now, Cry Later.’ Whatever you like.”

Jake gasped, eyes sparkling. “Schwoz, can you make mine say ‘You are enough’ but with glitter sparkles?”

“Of course!” Schwoz beamed, brushing crumbs off his lap. “And if you want the glitter to be weaponized, that’s just a toggle setting.”

Piper squinted at him, lowering her fork. “I’m sorry—what kind of vacuum needs a glitter attack mode?”

Schwoz looked at her seriously. “A fun one.”

Jake nodded like it made perfect sense. “You should’ve seen what he did to the fridge. It now hums the Law & Order theme when it closes…”

“I didn’t ask for that, by the way,” Kris noted, raising her glass. “But it is oddly satisfying.”

Schwoz waved his sandwich proudly. “That was intentional. A dramatic close for dramatic leftovers.”

Piper pressed her lips together to stop from laughing. “Is this really happening right now?”

“It’s premium content,” Schwoz sniffed, unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

Kris grinned. “He’s been so great to have around the house. Things feel more alive, don’t you think?”

“Alive?” Piper repeated, snorting. “The thermostat literally turned on the sprinklers when I adjusted the temperature.”

Jake raised his hand. “Okay, but—admit it—that was kinda awesome.”

“No, what would be awesome is living in a house where the shower doesn’t ask me security questions!”

“That’s two-factor authentication!” Schwoz said proudly. “It keeps out burglars and water wasters.”

Piper groaned but she was laughing now. “Schwoz I love you, but there is something deeply wrong with you.”

Schwoz wiggled his sandwich at her. “You say that now, but who was the one texting me last night to fix the Smart Toaster?”

“It was threatening to unsubscribe me from bagels!”

“And did I save the bagels?” Schwoz asked smugly.

Piper threw her hands up. “You caused the bagel crisis!”

“Minor calibration issue,” Schwoz said with a grin. “Besides, you love when I build things!”

“I love when you build them somewhere else,” she countered, flicking a broccoli at him.

Schwoz only grinned wider when she missed. “Every great invention has a few bugs. It’s how we learn, Piper. Something you could—”

“Don’t,” she warned, but she was already laughing.

Kris smiled softly, looking between them. “It’s nice having Schwoz here. The house feels… less empty.”

That landed.

Piper glanced at her mom, the humor fading slightly. “You miss Henry."

Kris reached over, squeezing her daughter’s hand. “We do. It’s been a while since we heard anything, and it’s hard not to worry.”

Jake frowned. “I even called Charlotte’s parents last week. They haven’t heard from her either.”

“I’d check in with Jasper’s mom,” Kris added, “but she thinks her blender is a listening device, so… not the best source.”

At that, Piper’s eyes darted to Schwoz’s. His expression mirrored hers: tight, nervous.

Under the table, he nudged her ankle with his shoe. “We handle this?” Schwoz whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, plastering on a bright smile. “Actually, Mom, Dad—I just remembered, Schwoz and I need to go finish that, uh… internship project upstairs.”

Kris frowned. “In the middle of dinner?”

“Very urgent,” Piper said, already standing. “Internship project. High stakes. Possibly life or death.”

Schwoz grabbed his sandwich. “We’ll be back shortly, assuming we survive.”

They hurried out of the kitchen.

Upstairs, Piper opened the door to what was once Henry’s room—and stopped cold.

The room was barely recognizable. Posters of movies and rock bands had been replaced with blueprints and schematics pinned to the walls. The desk groaned under the weight of various gadgets, wires, and tools. 

Where Henry’s bed once stood, a futuristic hammock-like contraption hummed faintly, glowing with a soft blue light.

Piper turned slowly. “Schwoz. What did you do.”

He grinned mid-chew. “Henry had terrible furniture placement. No chi flow. I fixed it. It’s more functional now. Better for thinking. Also the hammock has built-in aromatherapy.”

“It smells like burnt gummy bears.”

“That is lavender-mint.” Schwoz shrugged. “The hammock has lumbar support and heats itself in the winter. Very cozy.”

“It's summer," Piper said, gawking at the contraption. "And it looks like it’s going to suck me into the Upside Down.”

“Only if you press the red button.”

Piper gave him a long look. “...You’re a menace.”

"And yet, you dragged me up here because you need my genius.” He plopped down at the desk, digging through parts. “So. What’s the emergency?”

“My parents are close to full panic mode. If they don’t hear from Henry soon, they’re gonna go full ‘missing persons poster’—and we cannot have that.”

Schwoz’s eyes lit up. “Good thing I am always three steps ahead.”

He held up a disk with blinking lights and a tiny antenna.

“…Please tell me that’s not a time bomb.”

“No, no,” Schwoz said proudly. “This is my Voice-O-Tron 1000. I programmed it with Henry’s voice before he left. I can make a video call. They’ll think it’s him.”

Piper stared. “You’ve had this the whole time and you just remembered it?”

“I thought we were going for stealth.”

“We’re literally out of stealth.”

Schwoz grinned. “Let me fire it up. You distract them.”

Piper groaned. “Okay. Fine. I’ll keep them busy. You go full Spielberg and fake a Henry call.”

As she turned to leave, she paused. “And Schwoz?”

He looked up. “Ja?”

“Try not to be… you.”

He saluted. “I’ll be the picture of professionalism.”

She snorted, already heading back downstairs. “That’ll be the day.”

DING!

Back downstairs, the thermostat chimed in a robotic British accent. “INCOMING VIDEO CALL. EMOTIONAL TENSION: 84%.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Who programmed it to analyze our feelings too?”

Kris frowned. “I think I’m comforted?”

The big screen blinked on. HENRY HART — CONNECTING...

Jake blinked. “At nine PM?”

Kris dropped her glass onto the couch and rushed forward. “Henry!”

The call connected. A pixelated, uncanny-valley Henry smiled like he’d just woken up from a nap in a meat freezer. He waved from a dimly lit, obviously green-screened background—clearly the best Schwoz could do on such short notice.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad! Hey, Pipes!”

Piper stood in the doorway, arms crossed, trying not to laugh.

Kris’s hand flew to her chest. “Henry?”

“Yup! Still alive, still saving the world, still very handsome,” said Fake Henry, blinking a beat too long.

Jake grinned. “What’ve you been up to, champ?”

“Oh, you know. Multitasking. Global crises. Probably five or six major heroic events going on at once.” Fake Henry said cheerfully. "Definitely not in danger or being pursued by an evil organization or anything!”

Piper coughed loudly.

“Just kidding,” Fake Henry said quickly. “Everything’s chill! Charlotte’s coding something. Jasper’s... probably upside down somewhere.”

Jake nodded sagely. “Classic Jasper." 

"I'm glad Charlotte’s still hanging out with you guys," Kris said. "She’s such a good influence.”

Fake Henry smiled, a bit too confidently. “Totally. She’s, uh, definitely not... missing, if that’s what you were thinking.” 

He blinked a few times, then added quickly, “Nope, she’s around. Just, you know, off doing superhero stuff. Saving the world... all of us together. Big team effort.”

Piper coughed again, this time to hide a snort. “Well, that’s impressive.” She shot a look at her parents, who were clearly buying it.

Kris teared up. “We miss you so much, Henry.”

“I miss you too,” Fake Henry said, giving a slightly delayed thumbs up. “Things have just been... hectic. Y’know. Saving the world.”

Jake beamed. “Atta boy.”

Piper muttered under her breath, “He looks like he just crawled out of a sleep-deprived deep fake generator.”

“Shh,” Schwoz’s voice whispered from the thermostat.

“So,” Fake Henry continued, “I probably won’t be home for a while. Super busy. Multi-crisis level five. But I’ll stay in touch. Promise.”

"You promise?” Kris asked softly.

“Double promise. Oh, and tell Schwoz he’s killing it. Heard he upgraded the fridge.”

Jake beamed. “He really did!”

The call ended with a slightly too-long wave, and then the screen went black.

Kris wiped her eyes. “It’s just good to hear his voice.”

Jake smiled faintly. “Yeah… I feel better. He sounded like himself.”

Piper smiled gently. “Yeah. He did.”

She stood. “I’m gonna go check on Schwoz. Just to make sure he hasn't accidentally set fire to Henry’s room."

Sure enough, she opened the door to find him striking a dramatic pose with a hairbrush like a microphone.

“I should have charged for that,” he declared. “Oscar-worthy.”

Piper smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned. “They bought it.”

She let out a breath. “Yeah. For now.”

Schwoz patted her shoulder. “We’re good at this.”

Piper sighed, walking in to take the hairbrush away from him. “God help us.”

Schwoz nodded. “If He doesn’t, I’ve already got a version of Jasper halfway rendered.”

Piper groaned. “Of course you do.”

She flopped onto the hammock—immediately bouncing once and grabbing the edge for balance.

“Okay, this is kind of comfortable.”

Schwoz grinned. “Told you. Goat placenta memory foam.”

“…Why do I even ask anymore?”

The cold morning air bit at Piper’s face as she pushed through the revolving doors of Mason & Gillis, her usual green tea in hand. The sleek, polished interior of the law firm hummed with the quiet efficiency of people who thrived on high stakes and impossible deadlines. But today, that hum felt sharper, more piercing.

Piper’s shoulders were already tight as she made her way to her desk, the slight ache at the base of her skull a reminder of the restless night before. It was hard work throwing her parents off Henry's whereabouts, but she and Schwoz had managed to pull it off.

Between her growing list of tasks at work, Ray’s increasingly intense training sessions, and Schwoz’s chaotic presence in her home, there hadn’t been a single moment to breathe.

She set down her tea and logged into her computer, the screen lighting up with her color-coded to-do list. The neatly organized tasks stared back at her, taunting.

Just as she was starting to organize her thoughts, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Hart!”

Piper flinched, spilling a bit of tea on her desk as she turned to see Mr. Radcliffe approaching. His sharp suit and sharper expression made him look like a man who hadn’t smiled since the Clinton administration.

“Yes, sir?” she said, quickly dabbing at the spill.

Radcliffe handed her a thick folder, his tone brisk. “New assignment. I want a detailed analysis of this case law by the end of the day. And Hart—this isn’t just busywork. The client is high-profile, and we need to be prepared.”

Piper swallowed hard, taking the folder. “Of course, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

Radcliffe’s piercing gaze lingered for a moment. “Good. I’m counting on you not to waste my time.”

With that, he strode off, leaving Piper clutching the folder like a lifeline. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning the dense legal language. It was manageable—at least, it should have been. But the weight of his words and the pressure she was already under made her chest feel tight.

By mid-morning, Piper’s desk was a war zone of sticky notes, highlighters, and half-drunk coffee cups. Her laptop was surrounded by printouts, and her fingers flew across the keyboard as she tried to synthesize the case law into something coherent.

The folder Radcliffe had handed her lay open on her desk, its contents demanding her attention, but every few seconds, her mind wandered back to the Ms. Shapen case, the one that she had been working on with Logan for the last week.

As she typed furiously, her phone rang, jolting her. She glanced at the screen. Speaking of the devil. Piper exhaled sharply, bracing herself. This call was going to be a difficult one.

“Hello, Ms. Shapen,” Piper said, trying to sound calm, despite her growing headache.

"Piper!" Ms. Shapen's voice came through, sharp and frantic. "Where are we with the payments from my ex-husband? This has been dragging on for a week now! I'm not going to let him get away with this!"

Piper winced, rubbing her temple as her pulse quickened. She could hear the frustration and anger in Ms. Shapen's voice. "I've been following up with the courts, Ms. Shapen. I promise, we're making progress, but it's moving slowly. The legal process takes time."

"Well, Logan promised me an update today!" Ms. Shapen snapped. "How much longer do I have to wait? My ex is probably already making moves to hide his assets, and you need to make sure we're ahead of him!"

Piper's breath caught in her throat, fighting the urge to snap back. She could see Radcliffe watching her as she spoke, which added to her growing pressure. "I understand. I'll get back to you by the end of the day with the latest developments. We're on track, just—"

"On track? This isn't a game, Hart! I need results, or do you want me to take this directly to Mr. Radcliffe. Because I can! I've had enough of waiting!"

The call ended abruptly, and Piper was left gripping her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. The pressure was mounting, but she had to keep going. She quickly shoved the phone aside and glanced at the file in front of her—the one she needed to finish today for Radcliffe. Another impossible deadline.

Her hands shook as she tried to focus, but her mind was still reeling from the overwhelming workload. 

Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced down, hoping it wasn’t Ms. Shapen. It wasn’t. Instead, it was a notification from Envygram.

Piper hesitated but clicked on it, her thumb swiping through her feed. A picture of James caught her eye, stopping her mid-scroll. He was grinning, carefree and radiant, surrounded by his co-workers in what looked like a happy hour setting. The caption read, “Work hard, play harder! Cheers to this amazing team!”

He looked so relaxed, so at ease, while her world felt like it was crumbling under the weight of her responsibilities. Her stomach twisted, and a pang of insecurity rippled through her chest.

How was he able to juggle everything so effortlessly? Did he even think about her anymore, or was she just one more thing he didn’t have time for?

She clutched her pen, her fingers trembling. “Focus, Piper,” she whispered under her breath, returning her attention to her laptop. “You can handle this. You have to handle this.”

Her neck ached from hunching over, and her fingers trembled slightly. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping her pen until it snapped in her hand, the sound startling her.

A faint hum began to fill the air, so quiet at first that she thought it was just her own blood rushing in her ears. But it grew louder, more insistent. Her temples throbbed, her chest tightened, and her fingertips tingled with an unfamiliar heat. She pressed her hands flat against the desk, trying to steady herself.

The desk beneath her hands felt warm, almost hot. The air grew thick, heavy with an electric charge, making it harder to breathe.

Her thoughts continued to spiral, the weight of everything pressing down on her at once: Radcliffe’s impossible demands, Ms. Shapen’s anger, Ray’s impossible training sessions, Schwoz’s chaotic tinkering in her house, the constant worry for Henry, and James—always James—so far removed from her struggles.

And then there were her parents.

They were blissfully unaware of how close Henry had come to danger—or how he was still living in it, every day. They didn’t know the truth: their son was on the run, hunted and hiding, his life a constant balancing act of danger and survival.

They can’t know, Piper told herself again, the same justification she’d been using all day. They don’t need to worry. This is for them.

But the guilt wouldn’t leave her. She hated lying to them—hated how much it felt like a betrayal of their trust.

You’re going to fail all of them, the voice whispered in her mind, dark and accusatory. And then what’s left of you?

The lights flickered violently, casting strange, jagged shadows across the office. She pressed her hands harder against the desk, her breath coming faster.

And then it happened.

The storm inside her broke free in a blinding surge of energy. For a split second, she felt weightless, unburdened—but then reality came crashing back as the lights shattered and papers scattered in chaos.

Monitors crackled, and a printer near the corner of the room spat out half-printed pages before grinding to a halt with a screech. A stack of legal briefs blew off someone’s desk as a gust of warm, static-filled air whooshed through the room.

Logan, standing nearby, noticed the lights flickering. He looked up from the papers in his hand, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly, though there was no sign of suspicion in his eyes—just that cold, impassive expression he usually wore.

He watched, completely still, as the office descended into disarray. The flickering lights. The glitches. The malfunctioning printers. The temperature of the room seemed to rise, accompanied by a strange, static charge hanging in the air.

Piper froze, her heart racing in her chest as she desperately tried to regain control. She kept her hands hidden beneath her desk, but the tingling in her fingers wouldn’t stop. It was as if the remaining energy inside her was searching for a way out.

Around her, people started talking, their voices rising in alarm. “What the—?”

“What's going on?”

“Did you feel that?”

Piper could hear the chaos, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Logan. He was standing there, silent, his cold gaze fixed on the lights above. It was as though he was waiting for something, but his expression didn’t change. He didn’t seem concerned, just... observant.

Finally, Radcliffe’s sharp voice broke through the tension. “Hart!”

Piper snapped to attention. “Yes, sir?”

He gestured at her darkened screen, his eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

“Uh...” Piper’s mind raced. The tingling in her hands hadn’t subsided completely, and she quickly slid them lower. “It looks like... a power surge. Maybe a circuit overloaded?”

Radcliffe frowned, clearly unsatisfied with her vague explanation. “Get IT on it. And make sure this doesn’t delay your work. I expect that brief on my desk by five pm sharp.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her tone steady, though her heart was still pounding.

Radcliffe’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before he nodded curtly and walked away, leaving her to let out a shaky breath.

As the office started to settle back into some semblance of order, she noticed that Logan was still standing there, watching her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that his gaze was sharper than usual. But he didn’t say a word, and after a moment, he turned and walked away without a second glance.

Piper let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She glanced around, trying to act as normal as possible, though the hum of energy inside her wasn’t going away. Her mind raced as she grabbed the notebook that Schwoz had given her, scribbling down another entry in her growing list of strange occurrences.

But Logan’s gaze lingered in her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this moment had unsettled her more than it should have.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the tension that had hung in the air after the office malfunction never quite lifted. Piper tried her best to focus on her tasks, but each time she glanced up, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. She couldn’t tell if it was the lingering anxiety from the earlier surge of energy or something else, but every time she moved, she felt eyes on her—sharp, intent eyes that never wavered.

Krisha had popped by her desk a few times during the day, offering her usual mix of quirky distractions: a funny anecdote about her weekend, a peculiar comment on the office plants, or an excited mention of a new snack she’d discovered. Piper smiled politely each time, trying to keep her head above water in the midst of all the chaos. Krisha’s antics, though well-meaning, felt like little more than background noise to Piper’s mounting stress.

When their eyes met across the office, Krisha’s expression was as animated as ever, her hands flailing about as she told some story to a coworker. Piper couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight, but that smile faded quickly as the earlier unease crept back in.

She brushed the unsettling feeling aside, grabbed her coat, and stood up to leave. As she passed by the rows of desks, the sensation of being watched only grew. She quickened her pace, the echo of her footsteps unnervingly loud in the quiet office. The office was almost empty now, with only a few stragglers still typing away, but Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

She paused at the elevator, glancing back over her shoulder. The hallway was mostly clear—just the hum of office lights and the distant sound of conversation. But something felt wrong. The air felt charged, the quiet unsettling in a way it hadn’t been earlier.

Piper shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought, but her eyes scanned the dimming hallway one more time.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and she stepped inside, her gaze flicking to the corner where Krisha had last been. Nothing out of place.

The elevator descended slowly, the reflection of the hallway flashing in the polished surface of the doors. Piper’s fingers gripped the edge of her coat tighter, the eerie feeling creeping back up her spine. She couldn’t pinpoint it—was it just exhaustion or something more? She pushed the thought aside, but still, her senses felt heightened. The hairs on her neck prickled as if someone was right behind her, though when she glanced at the reflection, there was no one there.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. She stepped out, the click of her heels sharp in the quiet building. She moved quickly toward the exit, her pace picking up. She just wanted to get out of there, shake off the day’s stress. But the feeling of being watched persisted, shadowing her every step.

She stepped out into the crisp evening air, the cool wind hitting her face, but it didn’t do much to shake the unease. As she made her way to the parking lot, her phone buzzed again. A quick glance at the screen revealed nothing important—just a text message from Marla.

Her gaze drifted to the shadows near the entrance, but again, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that oppressive feeling was like a weight on her chest.

And just as she approached her car, she felt it again—the undeniable sense that someone was watching her, lurking just outside her view. She froze for a moment, a chill crawling down her spine. Her breath caught, but she quickly dismissed it. It was just paranoia, nothing more.

She unlocked her car and slipped inside, locking the door behind her. She sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

But even as she pulled away, heading over to Junk-N-Stuff, she couldn’t shake the lingering sensation that she wasn’t alone.

Ray sat at the central console of the Man Cave, staring at the array of monitors with a mix of impatience and thinly veiled frustration. The screens displayed a chaotic mishmash of codes and waveforms, all courtesy of Schwoz, who was muttering to himself as he hunched over a tablet.

“Schwoz, please tell me you’re making progress,” Ray said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the console.

“Progress?” Schwoz shot back without looking up. “Of course! I’m always making progress. I’m Schwoz!” He tapped a few more keys, and a string of indecipherable symbols popped up on the screen. “See? That’s definitely... something.”

Ray leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “Something? That doesn’t exactly scream ‘we’ve found Henry and the others.’”

Schwoz turned to him with an exaggerated shrug. “Do you know how hard it is to track a signal coming from another city with interference, encryption, and who knows what else? It’s like trying to find a haystack in a needle factory!”

Ray frowned. “Don’t you mean—”

“No!” Schwoz interrupted, holding up a finger. “I know what I said!”

Ray sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Great. So we’re nowhere. Again.”

Schwoz rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “So dramatic. You used to have patience, Ray. What happened to you?”

Ray gestured broadly at the console. “What happened to me? What happened to you? You’re supposed to be the genius who can fix anything. And instead, all I’m seeing is a bunch of numbers that look like they came out of a robot’s dream diary.”

Schwoz gave him an incredulous look. “A robot’s dream diary? That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Neither does your progress!” Ray shot back.

The banter was their usual rhythm—sharp, teasing, and just a little mean—but underneath Ray’s words was a tension Schwoz couldn’t ignore. Ray’s sarcasm was a defense mechanism, a way to mask the gnawing insecurity that had been creeping in ever since Henry and the others left Swellview.

“Fine,” Schwoz said, turning back to his tablet. “Give me ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Thirty if you keep interrupting me!”

Ray folded his arms and sat back in his chair, trying not to let his frustration boil over. The truth was, he hated feeling useless. Ray had been searching for purpose since stepping away from being Captain Man, and Henry's disappearance, along with Piper's training, had become his anchor. The search for answers gave him something to focus on, something to fight for. But every time they hit a dead end, it chipped away at the fragile sense of control he was clinging to.

As Schwoz continued to work, Ray glanced at him, the question bubbling up before he could stop it. “Hey, Schwoz... can I ask you something?”

Schwoz didn’t look up. “If it’s about why the code looks like gibberish, the answer is interference.”

Ray shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s... about you moving in with Piper and her family.”

Schwoz froze for a moment, then resumed typing, his voice deliberately casual. “What about it?”

“You didn’t tell me,” Ray said, trying to keep his tone light, though the edge in his voice was unmistakable.

Schwoz finally looked up, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Ray leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You moved into Henry’s old room. With his parents. That’s kind of a big deal.”

Schwoz hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, I needed a place to stay. And Piper’s family... they’re nice. They’re not scary like you.”

Ray blinked, caught off guard. “Scary? I’m not scary!”

Schwoz raised an eyebrow. “You’re mean to me all the time. You call me names, make fun of my inventions, and—oh, let’s not forget—you threw a chair at me once!”

“That was one time!” Ray protested. “And I missed, didn’t I?”

Schwoz gave him a pointed look. “Barely.”

Ray slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms. “So what, you’re saying I’m too mean, and that’s why you didn’t move in with me and Credenza?”

Schwoz hesitated again, then sighed. “It’s not just that. Piper’s family... they’re warm. Inviting. Her dad calls me ‘buddy,’ and her mom makes pancakes every morning. It’s... nice.”

Ray’s jaw tightened, and he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on one of the monitors. “Right. Nice.”

Schwoz watched him closely, his expression softening. “Ray... it’s not like I don’t appreciate you. But you’ve got Credenza, Buddy, and your life together. I didn’t want to... intrude.”

Ray forced a laugh, though it came out hollow. “Intrude? Schwoz, you’ve been living with me for years. First in the Man Cave, then the Man's Nest. I think I’m used to it.”

Schwoz leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Yeah, but it’s different now. You’re not Captain Man anymore. You’re retired. You’re building this life with Credenza and Buddy. I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Ray’s jaw twitched as he stared at the monitors. “You wouldn’t have been in the way.”

Schwoz tilted his head, studying Ray’s profile. “Really? Because sometimes it feels like you’d rather have space. You’ve got this... whole other thing going on now. Piper’s family, they don’t have that. They’re missing Henry. It feels good to help them, to fill in some of the gaps.”

Ray’s eyes flicked to Schwoz, and for a moment, there was something raw and vulnerable in his expression. He quickly masked it with a shrug, but the weight of his words was evident. “Whatever. Forget it. It’s not like I care where you live. It’s your life, Schwoz.”

Schwoz didn’t respond immediately. He tapped at the tablet for a moment, the clicking of keys filling the silence. Then, without looking up, he said, “Ray, you do care. That’s why you brought it up.”

Ray’s head snapped toward him, his expression a mix of surprise and defensiveness. “What? No. I just... it’s weird, that’s all. You living with them.”

Schwoz set the tablet down, his expression softening. “It’s not about Henry, is it?”

Ray’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, avoiding Schwoz’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ray,” Schwoz said gently, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You feel left out. Admit it.”

Ray let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Left out? Are you kidding me? I’ve got my own house, my own life. I don’t need... whatever it is you’ve got over there with the Harts.”

“Then why does it bother you so much?” Schwoz pressed.

Ray didn’t answer right away. He stared at the monitors, his fingers drumming against the console. Finally, he muttered, “I guess I just... I’m used to having you around, okay? You’ve always been here, with me, fixing my gadgets, annoying me, making me look smarter than I am half the time. And now you’re over there, eating pancakes and being ‘buddy-buddy’ with Piper’s dad.”

Schwoz’s lips twitched, but he held back a smile. “Ray... you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” Ray snapped, but the redness creeping into his face said otherwise.

Schwoz crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Admit it. You miss me.”

Ray groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! Maybe I miss you a little. Happy?”

Schwoz beamed. “Aww, Ray! That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Don’t push it,” Ray grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face as his smile slowly faded. The room grew quiet except for the faint hum of the Man Cave’s machinery. Schwoz, despite his usual quirks, seemed to sense the shift in mood. He picked up his tablet again but didn’t immediately dive back into his usual chaotic muttering.

“Alright,” Ray said after a moment, his voice lower now. “Enough with the feelings. Let’s get back to work.”

Schwoz nodded, his expression unusually subdued. “I think I’ve isolated part of the interference,” he said, tapping on the screen. “It’s not consistent, but there’s a signal buried under all the noise. Something... intentional.”

Ray leaned forward again, his eyes scanning the screen as lines of data scrolled past. He wasn’t a tech genius like Schwoz, but he could recognize patterns when he saw them. “Intentional how?”

Schwoz frowned, zooming in on the data. “It’s like someone is actively scrambling the signal. But not to erase it—more like... redirecting it. Whoever’s behind this doesn’t want us to find the source, but they also don’t want to cut it off entirely.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “So they’re toying with us.”

“Maybe,” Schwoz said, his tone thoughtful. “Or maybe it’s a trap.”

Ray straightened, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “A trap?”

Schwoz nodded slowly, his fingers dancing over the keys. “Think about it. If they wanted to stay hidden, they could just shut down the signal completely. But they’re leaving breadcrumbs. Just enough to keep us searching, but not enough to lead us anywhere useful.”

Ray’s mind raced. The idea of someone deliberately baiting them didn’t sit well, but it made sense. Charlotte was smart—smarter than most people gave her credit for. If she’d sent out a signal, it wouldn’t have been easily intercepted unless someone was actively working against them.

“Do you think it’s Charlotte?” Ray asked, his voice quieter now. “Could she be... trying to warn us?”

Schwoz hesitated. “It’s possible. But if it is Charlotte, then they're in serious trouble. This level of interference? It’s not amateur work. Whoever’s behind this knows what they’re doing.”

Ray clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling back to the surface. “Why didn’t  they just call? Why all the cryptic nonsense?”

Schwoz glanced at him, his expression softening. “Ray... you know why. If they're still in Dystopia, if they're on the run, they're probably trying to protect us. A direct message could lead the bad guys straight to us.”

Ray let out a bitter laugh. “Great. So instead of asking for help like a normal person, the three of them are playing some elaborate game of hide-and-seek while probably being hunted by who-knows-what.”

Schwoz didn’t respond, letting the weight of Ray’s words hang in the air. The former hero’s frustration wasn’t just about the search—it was about feeling powerless. Ray wasn’t used to sitting on the sidelines. For years, he’d been the one taking action, charging headfirst into danger. But now? Now he was stuck, relying on Schwoz’s gadgets and cryptic signals to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t even see.

Ray stared at the monitors, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with Henry before his disappearance. He thought about the kid who’d stood by his side through countless battles, who’d risked everything to keep Swellview safe. Henry had grown up, but to Ray, he was still the same old Kid Danger, the guy who cracked jokes at the worst possible moments and somehow always pulled through.

“They shouldn’t have to do this alone,” Ray muttered, more to himself than to Schwoz.

Schwoz glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "They're not alone, Ray. They have each other. And they have us. Even if they're far away, they know we're looking for them. That counts for something.”

Ray didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the scrolling data. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Schwoz placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “We’ll find them. Henry’s resourceful. Charlotte’s smart. And Jasper's… well, he's Jasper. But we are also smart and resourceful.”

Ray let out a sharp breath, his gaze still fixed on the monitors. “We’d better be. Because if anything happens to them, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to...”

He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. Schwoz didn’t press him, didn’t make a joke or try to lighten the mood. Instead, he simply nodded, his own resolve hardening.

“I’ll keep working,” Schwoz said quietly. “We’ll figure this out.”

Ray nodded, forcing himself to sit up straighter. “Yeah. Let’s keep going.”

As Schwoz returned to his tablet, Ray’s eyes flicked to one of the monitors displaying a faint, pulsing signal. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A glimmer of hope buried beneath layers of interference.

“Hang on, team,” Ray murmured under his breath. “We’re coming for you.”

A few hours later, the elevator doors chimed open, breaking the quiet. Ray watched in silence as Piper stormed into the Man Cave, her steps quick and purposeful. He raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Schwoz’s face lit up with a grin, turning toward Piper as if nothing were amiss.

“Hey!” Schwoz called out, waving a wrench like it was a flag. “How was the glamorous world of legal nonsense?”

Piper didn't even slow down.

“Schwoz,” she muttered darkly, eyes fixed ahead.

He grinned. “Uh-oh. You’ve got the murder-walk. Who cracked your vibe this time?”

Ray smirked faintly from the other side of the cave but didn’t interrupt. He’d seen this energy before — Piper on edge, trying not to snap. But this time, she looked… shaken underneath the fire.

She stopped halfway across the room, arms folded tightly. “We’re not talking about it.”

“So it’s definitely something,” Schwoz said, already spinning in his chair to face her fully. “Do I need to hack anyone’s inbox?”

“Not yet,” Piper muttered. “But don’t delete your burner accounts just in case.”

Ray stood slowly, watching her carefully as he noted the furrow in her brow. Something wasn’t right. He could tell. She had a look about her that spoke volumes, even if she wasn’t saying a word.

“What happened?” Ray asked, his voice softer now, sensing the shift in her mood. “You’re pacing like someone who’s either about to fight… or confess a crime.”

Piper didn’t respond right away, instead taking a few steps deeper into the room. She seemed to be scanning the space, looking for something—or perhaps avoiding something. Ray watched her carefully, wondering what had her so worked up.

Eventually she let out a breath — not quite a sigh, but close. “I think I was followed.”

That got their attention.

Ray’s expression sharpened. Schwoz lowered his wrench.

“By who?” Ray asked, voice quieter now.

“I don’t know,” Piper muttered, her gaze flicking to the door. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid. It’s probably nothing.”

"Piper,” Ray said, his voice firm now, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Piper hesitated for a moment before pulling out her notebook from her bag and handing it to him. "I’ve been documenting everything, like you said. All the weird things that have been happening."

Ray’s fingers brushed against Piper’s as he took the notebook, and for a brief moment, the world felt a little too still. He glanced down at the pages, but it wasn’t the words that grabbed his attention—it was the tension building in the air. The subtle shift in Piper’s posture, the way her jaw was clenched. The notebook wasn’t just a record of incidents anymore. It felt like a confession.

He flipped through the pages, scanning her neat handwriting, but every line, every timestamp, seemed to confirm his worst fears. There were more power surges. More unexplained events. More moments where Piper’s control faltered—each one more worrisome than the last.

“Power surge in the office today?” Ray asked, his voice low, not quite meeting her eyes.

Piper stiffened, but she didn’t look at him directly. “Yeah, the lights flickered, the computers shut down… but it was just a technical issue, right?” Her voice was an odd mix of defensiveness and uncertainty.

Ray didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the notebook. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Piper was trying to brush it off, but he could see through her facade. This was serious. And she was carrying it alone.

It was the same thing he had done for years when it came to his own problems. Put on a brave face, mask the insecurity. But it wasn’t fooling him.

Ray swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. “You can’t keep pretending it’s nothing. You’re not in control of this, and it’s getting worse,” he said, his voice rough, but his concern cutting through the layers of frustration.

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she crossed her arms tighter, her face unreadable. He could tell she was battling something inside—something more than just the fear of losing control. There was shame there, too. The kind of shame that came with feeling like a burden. Ray could relate. He had carried that same weight when he first stepped away from being Captain Man, and part of him was angry that Piper had to bear that burden at all.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Piper muttered finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t ask for these powers, Ray. But they’re mine now. And I can’t fix them.”

Ray didn’t know how to respond. He opened his mouth, but the words got stuck. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to fix it alone, that they would figure it out together—but the truth was, he didn’t know how to fix it, either. And that was scarier than anything he’d ever faced as Captain Man.

He’d never been the one on the sidelines. He was always Captain Man, always the one stepping in, always the one who had a plan. But now? He was just a guy in a room, watching someone he was slowly growing to care for fall apart, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

You’re not Captain Man anymore, Ray.

He wanted to roar it, to shake the world around him and demand that everything go back to normal. But that wasn’t an option. The truth was, he was terrified. Terrified of failing Piper, terrified of failing Henry, terrified of being powerless when he used to be in control of everything.

And worse...

He was terrified of her becoming a burden. The thought that she could hurt herself—or someone else—was enough to make his chest tighten.

He finally opened his mouth, but the words felt hollow, the resolve in his voice shaky. "Piper, listen. I know it feels like you’re carrying this burden alone. But you’re not. You’ve got me. And you’ve got Schwoz.” He stopped himself, aware that his words were a repeat of the last time he had given her a pep talk.

Instead, he let out a sigh and changed his tune. “But we’re gonna need to step it up, alright? I can’t just stand by while you’re losing control. It’s not just about you anymore, Piper. It’s about keeping everyone safe.”

Schwoz gazed at him and Ray could tell that Schwoz was as exhausted as he was. This wasn't just about finding Henry anymore. It was about making sure Piper didn't fall apart in the process.

Piper’s gaze dropped to the floor, her expression pained. “And what if I still can’t control it?” Her voice cracked, and Ray’s heart tightened.

“You will,” Ray said quickly, more confidently than he felt. “But you need training. Real training. I’ve been letting you take it slow, but no more. It’s time to push your limits.”

Piper’s eyes shot up to meet his, as surprise flashed across her face. “Push my limits? Are you kidding?”

Ray shook his head, his tone firm. “It’s not a choice anymore. You need to understand your powers before they hurt you or anyone else. You’re not just playing with energy, Piper. You’re dealing with something dangerous.”

The words felt harsh even as they left his mouth, but Ray couldn’t help it. He had seen what happened when someone wasn’t ready for what they had to face. He knew that Piper could do this—she had to.

Piper’s expression tightened, her jaw setting in a familiar way that signaled she was holding something back. Ray could tell she didn’t want to admit it, but she was scared. He could see the slight tremor in her hands, the way her shoulders were hunched as if bracing herself for something worse.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or Schwoz.”

Ray softened, the tension in his chest loosening slightly. “Piper...” He crossed the room quickly, coming to a stop in front of her. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “But I need you to believe that you can do this. We can do this.”

There was a brief, awkward silence, and Ray could feel his heart pounding. He didn’t know if she believed him, but the words were out there now.

He turned to Schwoz, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange. “Schwoz,” Ray said sharply, “Get the equipment ready. We’re starting training right now.”

Schwoz blinked, clearly caught off guard by Ray’s sudden shift in tone. “Training? Already? But—”

“I don’t care what else you’re doing,” Ray snapped, his patience running thin. “We’re gonna push her harder. Now.”

Schwoz hesitated, but he nodded slowly, grabbing a few devices from the nearby shelf. “Fine, fine,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll have the Man Cave set up like a live wire in no time.”

Ray watched as Schwoz shuffled around, but his eyes never left Piper. “You’re gonna be fine,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “We’re gonna get through this.”

Piper didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. She knew there was no backing down now.

Ray’s words hung in the air, a mixture of reassurance and unspoken urgency. He could see the doubt in Piper’s eyes, the exhaustion she was carrying—not just from the day, but from the weight of the situation. He wished he could say something to take all of it away, but deep down, Ray knew it wasn’t that simple.

As Schwoz fumbled around the lab, setting up various devices, Ray felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist in his stomach. There was so much they didn’t know. So much they hadn’t figured out. But what terrified him the most wasn’t just the uncertainty—it was watching Piper, someone he previously cared so little for, struggle and feel so isolated.

He had been there before. Trying to shoulder the weight of the world and not knowing how to fix it. Not knowing if you were strong enough to make it through.

And that was exactly what Ray saw in Piper right now.

“Alright,” Ray said, snapping himself out of his thoughts. He needed to focus. She needed him to focus. “Let’s do this. Schwoz, make sure the restraints are set up.”

Schwoz didn’t respond immediately, but Ray could hear the hurried clinking of tools and the occasional muttering. After a few more moments, Schwoz straightened, wiped his hands on his shirt, and turned to face them.

“Alright, everything’s ready. Are you sure you want to do this now, Ray?” Schwoz asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked between Ray and Piper.

Ray met his eyes, his expression hard. “There’s no time to waste. We can’t afford to wait until it gets worse.”

Piper, still standing there with her arms crossed, hesitated for a second before letting out a breath and stepping forward. “Fine,” she muttered, her voice betraying a hint of reluctance. “Let’s do this.”

Ray moved to the side, giving her space. “You can do this, Piper. It’s time to take control.”

Her eyes narrowed at him for a moment, and Ray could see the determination beginning to take root behind her uncertainty. She was nervous, but she was here, ready to try. That, at least, was progress.

Schwoz clicked a button on the console, and a large holographic display popped up in the middle of the room. The blue and red shapes swirling around the display represented a simple obstacle course—nothing too complicated. It was just to start, to help her focus on precision rather than power.

“Alright,” Schwoz said, his tone now serious. “This will be the first round. I’ll set up a few simple obstacles, and you need to navigate through them using your powers. But remember,” he added, glancing at Ray, “small, controlled bursts. No explosions.”

Ray gave Schwoz a sharp nod, his eyes never leaving Piper. “You’ve got this. Just control it. Focus on what you need to do, and don’t let it take over.”

Piper stood still for a moment, her eyes scanning the floating obstacles. They weren’t huge or particularly threatening—just a few balls of light that would float up and shift positions when she interacted with them. But Ray could tell she was already overthinking it. She wasn’t just focused on the task; she was thinking about everything else—the pressure, her fears, her lack of control.

“Just breathe, Piper,” Ray said, his voice a little softer now. He didn’t want to push too hard, but this was important. “You don’t need to be perfect. Just focus on one thing at a time.”

She nodded, and Ray saw her take a deep breath. For a second, she looked almost calm, but he knew better than to think that meant she had it under control. Not yet.

“Alright,” Schwoz said, pressing another button. The first obstacle—a floating ball of light—moved slowly toward Piper. “Go ahead. Show us what you’ve got.”

Piper raised her hand, and for a split second, Ray thought she wasn’t going to react at all. Then, with a flash of blue light, the ball jerked backward. The energy flared out of her hand like a burst of electricity, too strong for the small space.

The ball, caught in the surge of energy, slammed into the far wall, sending sparks flying.

Ray flinched. That was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

Piper winced, her cheeks flushed with frustration. “Sorry, I—”

Ray shook his head quickly. “No, you don’t apologize. You’ve just gotta focus. Again.”

Schwoz was already fiddling with the controls, setting up another obstacle. “Let’s try a different approach this time. Smaller targets. Focus. You can do it.”

Piper didn’t speak, but Ray saw her resolve firming up. She wasn’t giving up. Good.

The second attempt went better. The energy she released was still intense, but it wasn’t out of control. The ball shifted in the air but stayed intact. She gritted her teeth, keeping her power contained long enough to move it across the room.

Ray couldn’t help but nod in approval. “That’s it. You’ve got it.”

She lowered her hand, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were flushed, and sweat dotted her forehead. But Ray could see the small triumph in her eyes. She had done it—she had controlled it, even if just for a moment.

The next few rounds went by faster, the obstacles becoming slightly more complex but no less manageable. Each time, she controlled the bursts of energy a little better. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

Schwoz gave a small approving nod, though his face remained serious. “Not bad, Piper. You’re improving.”

Ray, however, wasn’t satisfied. This was just the beginning. “We’re not done yet. We need to push further. You can do more.”

Piper’s face tightened, and Ray saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do much more. This is already harder than I thought.”

“You can,” Ray said firmly. “I’m not going to stop until you get it right. You have to be in control, Piper. This is the only way.”

Piper swallowed and straightened her posture. There was no argument this time. She squared her shoulders, eyes locked on the next target.

Ray watched her with a sense of urgency creeping in. The last thing he wanted was for her to get discouraged. She was still so uncertain, and this was her chance to show herself—and him—that she could control the power within her.

Ray watched with growing attention as Piper squared off against the next set of obstacles. The energy in her hand flickered in a cascade of blue and gold—a mix of pure power, the kind she still had trouble controlling. It was nothing like the simple, stable energy she could release during training; this was raw and unpredictable, like a storm on the verge of breaking.

“Alright,” Schwoz’s voice rang through the cave, “this one will be a bit more challenging. We’re adding in multiple objects. You’ll need to focus on controlling the direction and the intensity at the same time.”

Ray leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as the new targets appeared: three floating orbs, each emitting a soft glow. They began to drift toward Piper, shifting unpredictably.

“Remember,” Ray’s voice was steady, encouraging. “Controlled bursts. Stay calm.”

Piper’s hand trembled slightly, her gaze following the orbs. She took a slow breath, preparing. Her fingers sparked with energy as she raised her hand. She didn’t want to fail again. Not now.

She focused, directing the energy toward the first orb. But instead of a gentle push, a burst of golden light surged from her palm, sending the orb careening sideways, slamming into the wall with a resounding thud. Sparks shot off the surface.

Ray’s stomach dropped. That was the last thing they needed—another outburst.

“Sorry,” Piper muttered quickly, stepping back as if trying to distance herself from the failure.

Ray clenched his jaw but didn’t let the frustration show. “It’s alright. Just… take a second. You’re pushing too hard. You need to focus, and stop forcing it.”

Piper nodded, exhaling. She wiped the sweat from her brow, her breathing still uneven from the previous surge of energy. She knew Ray was right. It wasn’t about how hard she tried. It was about channeling the energy, controlling it without letting it control her.

Schwoz, meanwhile, seemed unbothered by the explosion and simply adjusted the settings on his tablet. “Let’s try again. No harm done,” he said with a shrug, as if the whole thing had been just another normal day.

Piper looked at him briefly before setting her gaze back on the orbs. They were starting to float again, but this time they weren’t drifting as freely—they were rotating, shifting in orbit around one another.

Ray’s tone softened as he leaned forward. “Piper, you’ve got this. You’re the only one who can do this. You just need to believe it.”

Her brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and determination swirling in her eyes. Her hand crackled with energy again, but this time, she didn't force it. She didn’t try to push the energy like she had before. Instead, she let the energy pool in her hand, feeling it hum beneath her skin, like a low vibrating current.

The first orb in her field of vision wavered before shifting gently to the side. Piper’s energy wrapped around it like a lasso—firm, yet controlled—and nudged it forward.

Ray felt a shift in the air. The raw, undirected energy she had been struggling with was starting to come under her command. The orbs floated in unison, shifting in the air in precise movements.

She was controlling them. Piper was in control.

For a brief moment, Ray saw something he hadn’t seen before—a new level of focus and confidence in her eyes. The surge of energy was contained, stable. She was finally starting to harness her abilities without losing herself in the chaos.

“Good,” Ray said, his voice a little louder now, a spark of hope igniting. “Keep going. You’re doing it.”

Piper didn’t respond. She simply kept her focus, maintaining the rhythm of her energy. Each orb followed the gentle pulls of her hands, circling gracefully through the air. It was subtle, almost beautiful, the way the power moved under her control.

Schwoz tapped his tablet, muttering, “More difficult now, though. Let’s see how she handles this.”

Without warning, another orb appeared—a smaller, much faster one. It zipped toward Piper like a comet, and she barely had time to react.

The orb collided with the first one she was controlling, throwing off her balance and causing her to momentarily lose control of the others. Panic surged within her chest.

Ray’s heart stopped for a beat, but he quickly snapped back to focus. “Focus, Piper! Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

Piper squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment, she was completely still. Her breathing slowed. When her eyes opened again, there was something different in them—determination, but also the recognition that she couldn’t fight this with force. Not anymore.

With a deep breath, she extended her hand again, this time with a gentler focus. The energy from her palm hummed through the room, a quiet wave of control washing over the orbs. It wasn’t perfect, but the way the energy shifted felt smoother, more refined. It was no longer an explosion of power—it was a channel, flowing exactly where she needed it.

Ray exhaled sharply, watching as the orbs drifted back into alignment. This time, Piper wasn’t forcing anything. She was commanding it.

“You did it,” Ray said, his voice thick with relief. He stood up, crossing the room to her. “That was great, Piper.”

Piper let out a shaky breath, her hand still crackling with energy, but the fear had faded. The energy hummed in her palm, but it felt manageable now, like she finally understood how to hold it without it slipping through her fingers.

Schwoz, ever the enthusiast, clapped his hands. “Yes! Yes! You are now officially a dangerous force!”

Piper gave him a half-smile, despite the exhaustion she felt. “Thanks, Schwoz.”

Ray grinned, his earlier worry lifting. For the first time in a long while, he saw that maybe—just maybe—Piper could do this.

He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You’re ready, Piper. It’s time we take the next step.”

Piper looked at him, her expression serious but slightly uncertain. “Next step?”

“Training’s just one part of it. Now we focus on the bigger picture. We need to figure out where Henry and the others are, and if they’re in danger. And we need to be prepared, because I think something bigger is going on here.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 | The Gnome Cult

Piper drove home from another grueling day at Mason & Gilis. The breakthrough in Ms. Shapen’s case had come at a price – specifically, a stakeout during her lunch break, with Logan of all people.

Stuck in a cramped car with his smug commentary and obnoxious cologne had made the whole ordeal borderline unbearable. And the cherry on top? Witnessing Ms. Shapen’s ex-husband partaking in a disturbingly enthusiastic session of interpretive mime yoga. That image was going to haunt her for weeks.

She sighed, flicking on the radio as she inched forward in traffic. The familiar jingle of KLVY Swellview News crackled through the speakers, and Piper perked up. If anyone could distract her from her spiraling thoughts, it was Trent and Mary.

“In today’s crime-watch,” Trent began, his voice dripping with theatrical gravitas, “authorities are baffled by a recent string of bizarre thefts around Swellview. The latest victim? The Swellview Botanical Gardens. But what was stolen, you ask? Rare flowers? Priceless seeds? No — the thieves made off with every single garden gnome on the premises.”

Piper’s eyebrows shot up. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Garden gnomes? Really?

Trent continued, his voice edged with irritation. “Witnesses described shadowy figures carting away the gnomes with alarming efficiency, leaving authorities completely baffled.”

Mary’s voice chimed in, cheerful and utterly clueless. “Well, maybe the gnomes just decided to go on vacation! Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

There was a loaded pause, the sound of Trent’s patience shattering like glass. “Mary,” he said, voice strained, “they’re ceramic statues. They don’t take vacations.”

Mary gasped, genuinely scandalized. “Wow, Trent, maybe you need a vacation. You’re starting to sound like a garden gnome.”

Piper snorted, switching lanes. “Same old Mary.”

Trent’s sigh was a full-body experience, his frustration seeping through the speakers. “Moving on. In other news, last week’s theft of all the inflatable tube men from the 5th Avenue car dealership remains unsolved.”

Mary chimed in eagerly. “Maybe they’re on vacation too! Can you imagine them all lying on a beach, sipping fruity drinks, just… flopping in the breeze?”

Trent’s exasperation reached new heights. “Yes, Mary. Because nothing says ‘relaxing getaway’ like a bunch of deflated tube men collapsing into the sand.”

Mary’s tone turned conspiratorial. “Or maybe… the garden gnomes invited them!”

Piper shook her head, biting back a laugh. These two never change.

Trent’s groan was pure agony. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“And yet,” Mary said brightly, “here you are!”

Piper continued to listen as her fingers drummed on the steering wheel. She glanced at the traffic, the line of cars barely inching forward. Her mind raced. This wasn’t some unsolvable case; it was an opportunity. The kind of low-risk, high-reward situation that might finally let her test her powers on something more than just sparring dummies and controlled training exercises.

A smile tugged at her lips.

“Alright,” she muttered to herself, flipping the turn signal. “Let’s see what I can do.”

A little while later, Piper pulled up to the base of Mt. Swellview and parked in a reserved spot. She grabbed her bag, took a deep breath, and made her way toward the entrance of the Man’s Nest. The evening air was cool, but her palms were warm, a tingling reminder of the power that simmered beneath her skin.

The elevator ride up felt longer than usual. She was aware of the hum of the machinery, the steady thump of her heartbeat, the quiet determination building inside her. The doors slid open, and she stepped out into the main room of the Man’s Nest, which was now repaired following her accidental destruction a couple of weeks back.

Inside, the Danger Force — Miles, Mika, Bose, and Chapa — were sprawled around the central console, arguing over a blurry map of Swellview. 

Schwoz was off to the side, feet on the couch, surrounded by popcorn buckets and stray wires, watching late-night infomercials with an alarming level of focus.

Piper walked in and squinted. “Are those… bedazzled frying pans?”

“Ja,” Schwoz said, his voice reverent. A kernel clung to his chin like a badge of honor. “They sparkle while you sizzle. You cook, you shimmer. This is the future, Piper.”

She eyed the screen, horrified. “Is that guy sautéing shrimp in rhinestones?”

“With confidence!” Schwoz declared. “I don’t need one. But I need one.”

Piper just shook her head, biting back a smile as she made a mental note to get him one for his birthday. “Noted.”

The Danger Force members noticed her presence and perked up.

Mika looked up. "Piper! What are you doing here?"

"I come in peace," Piper said, holding up her hands. "I promise I won't wreck the Nest this time. I have better control over my powers now."

Miles smiled. "I'm so glad to hear you say that."

Chapa smirked, arms crossed. “Guess we won’t have to bubble-wrap the walls this time.”

Piper rolled her eyes, but her grin didn’t fade. “No bubble wrap needed, I swear.”

Bose gave her a thumbs-up. “I believe you. And if things do blow up, well… it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bose,” Piper replied dryly.

Miles stepped forward, his expression more serious. “So, what brings you here, Piper?”

Piper took a breath, the confidence she’d built on the drive over firming her resolve. “I heard about the garden gnome thefts on the news. I thought maybe I could tag along on this mission. I want to put my powers to good use.”

Mika exchanged a glance with Miles. “You sure about this? These kinds of missions can get messy.”

Piper nodded, her gaze unwavering. “I’m sure. I’m tired of feeling useless. I know I can help.”

Schwoz, still munching his popcorn, looked over. “Ohhh can I watch? This frying pan infomercial has stopped surprising me.” He glanced at the screen. “He’s about to deep-fry cheesecake. That’s where I draw the line.”

Chapa gave an approving nod. “Alright, Piper. But if you fry us with your powers, you’re paying for the therapy.”

Piper smirked. “Deal.”

Miles leaned over the console, pulling up a clearer map of Swellview. “The thefts are following a pattern — all leading to the old Swellview Aquarium. If we move now, we can intercept whoever’s behind this.”

Bose’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! Maybe the thief is building a secret garden gnome army!”

Mika groaned. “Let’s hope it’s something less weird than that.”

Piper’s fingers tingled with anticipation as she stepped closer to the console. “Let’s go find out.”

Miles nodded, tapping a button on the console that closed the map. “Alright, let’s suit up and get moving.”

Piper took a step back as the Danger Force members grabbed their gear and chewed their gum. Mika secured her hair tie, Chapa’s fingertips sparked with anticipation, Bose adjusted his boots, and Miles’s eyes glowed with focus. Piper’s fingers curled at her sides, the tingling energy reminding her that she was ready, too.

“Uh, guys?” Piper said, glancing down at her smart casual clothes. “I think I’m missing something here. I can’t exactly go out there looking like… well, me.”

Chapa smirked. “Yeah, unless you want everyone in Swellview knowing Piper Hart fights crime now.”

Schwoz, still elbow-deep in popcorn, perked up. “Don’t worry! I’ve got just the thing.” He scrambled upright, nearly knocking over a pile of circuit boards as he bolted for one of his random drawers.

“Please don’t hand me a plunger,” Piper muttered.

“It was one time!” Schwoz called back, digging through the drawer. “And it was tactical!”

He rummaged noisily — a rubber chicken flew out, followed by a plastic pineapple and what might have been a haunted doll. Finally, with a triumphant sound, he pulled something out from the bottom.

“Ah-ha!” Schwoz declared, turning around with a wide grin. In his hands was a red mask. Old but clean, the fabric still catching the light with a soft shimmer. He held it carefully, like it mattered. “This belonged to Henry. I kept it.”

Piper froze.

Her eyes locked on the mask. Something in her chest twisted — not pain, exactly, but something heavy and nostalgic and suddenly very real.

“You… kept it?” she asked quietly.

Schwoz’s voice dropped, softer now. “Of course I did. He was my family too. And I figured…” He hesitated, then stepped closer. “I figured one day someone else would need it.”

She took it slowly, her fingers brushing his. The mask was familiar — red and bold and quietly humming with a history that belonged to all of them. Memories surged — watching her brother dash off on heroic adventures, her frustration at being left behind, her eventual awe when she realized just how much he sacrificed to protect everyone.

She took a deep breath and smiled faintly. “Guess I’m borrowing this.”

Miles’s voice softened. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

Piper nodded, her grip on the mask tightening. “Yeah. I think… I think he’d be okay with it too.”

Schwoz’s eyes didn’t waver. “I think he’d tell you to suit up and kick ass.”

She took a moment longer, then slipped the mask over her eyes. The world sharpened through the eye holes, and a surge of determination coursed through her. The nostalgia was still there, but it wasn’t holding her back — it was pushing her forward.

Mika handed her a hair tie. “You might want to put your hair up. It’ll help keep your face clear… and, you know, make you 20% less recognizable.”

Piper smirked. “Good thinking.” She gathered her hair into a tight ponytail, the familiar weight of the mask giving her a sense of readiness.

Chapa grinned, giving Piper an appraising look. “Not bad, Hart. You might just pull this off.”

Piper looked at her reflection in one of the screens. She was wearing all black now. The red mask framed her blue eyes, making her look both familiar and new. She felt a warmth in her chest — a connection to her brother, to his world.

The old Swellview Aquarium loomed ahead, its faded sign and boarded-up windows giving it a distinctly “crime scene” vibe.

“Why do villains always pick the creepiest abandoned places?” Piper muttered, eyeing the broken windows and graffiti-covered walls.

“Maybe they’re just trying to lower property values,” Chapa quipped, sparks of electricity crackling around her fingertips.

They crept up to a side entrance. Miles placed a hand on the door, and in a shimmer of energy, he teleported inside. A second later, the lock clicked open from the inside, and he poked his head out. “All clear.”

The group slipped in, and the stale, damp air of the aquarium greeted them. Shadows danced along empty fish tanks, and the sound of dripping water echoed ominously.

“Why does it smell like wet socks and despair in here?” Bose whispered, wrinkling his nose.

“Focus, Bose,” Mika said sharply, eyes narrowed in determination.

They moved quietly through the corridors, the sound of their footsteps muffled against the grimy floor. As they reached the main exhibit hall, they froze.

Piper blinked, trying to process what she was seeing.

A group of goons in matching black jumpsuits were carefully arranging garden gnomes into strange, intricate patterns on the floor. Wires snaked around the gnomes, connecting them to a humming device that looked way too high-tech for ceramic decor.

One of the goons held up a gnome with a blue hat and declared, “This one’s name is Captain Gnomebeard!”

Another nodded solemnly. “He shall lead us to victory.”

Chapa’s brow furrowed. “Are we seriously dealing with a gnome cult?”

“Oh, great. This is like The Cell all over again!” Bose added.

Piper whispered back, “Let’s just stop them before they start chanting or something.”

Miles nodded. “Okay, let’s take them out quick and clean. We go in, disable them, and—”

A loud clink echoed through the hall as Bose accidentally kicked over a metal bucket.

All the goons’ heads snapped toward them. “Intruders!”

“Uh-oh,” Bose muttered. “I was really hoping that wouldn’t happen.”

“Plan B, everyone!” Mika shouted. “Attack!”

The goons sprang into action, yanking out bizarre gadgets that crackled with energy. One of them twisted a dial on the device connected to the gnomes, and a low hum filled the air, rising to a shrill pitch.

Piper’s heart sank as the gnomes’ eyes began to glow red. The intricate patterns lit up like circuit boards, arcs of energy zipping between the ceramic figures.

“Oh no,” Miles muttered. “They’ve weaponized the gnomes.”

Before anyone could react, the gnomes’ mouths opened, and miniature energy beams shot out in rapid bursts, forcing the team to scatter.

“Are you kidding me?” Chapa yelled, ducking behind an overturned tank. “We’re getting shot at by gnomes?!”

Piper clenched her fists, her palms tingling with energy. The stakes were higher than she thought — this wasn’t just a weird theft; the gnomes were rigged to explode.

She took a breath and looked around. Miles was teleporting to dodge the energy beams, Mika was deflecting blasts with her energy fields, Bose was trying to shield himself behind a piece of broken display glass, and Chapa was firing bolts of electricity to destroy gnomes — but for every gnome they took down, two more took its place.

“This isn’t working!” Mika shouted. “We need to disable that device!"

Piper’s heart pounded in her chest. The humming device at the center of the gnome formation was growing louder, the glow from the gnomes intensifying. If this thing went off, they’d be picking ceramic shrapnel out of their hair for weeks — if they were lucky enough to survive at all.

A gnome turned its beady, glowing eyes on her, its mouth opening with a mechanical whine. A bolt of searing energy shot toward her chest.

Her instinct screamed at her to dodge, but there was nowhere to go. She braced herself for the pain — but instead of agony, a strange warmth spread through her chest. The beam hit her dead center, and she felt it flow into her, dissolving like sugar in hot water.

Her eyes widened. The tingling in her palms flared to life, the warmth radiating through her arms, filling her veins with a pulsing energy.

“Uh… guys?” she called out, her voice shaking with adrenaline. “I think I’m absorbing the energy!”

Schwoz’s voice crackled through the comms in her ear, full of disbelief—but not the doubtful kind. “Wait, wait! You’re absorbing it? That wasn’t in any of my calculations—but I love it!”

“Welcome to my life, Schwoz!” Piper shouted back. “Everything I do defies calculations!”

“Ja, but it’s never boring either!” he replied, typing furiously in the background. “I’m pulling up your vitals now—don’t explode, okay?”

Another gnome fired, and this time, she didn’t flinch. She thrust her hand out, and the beam vanished into her palm, sucked in like air into a vacuum. The tingling sensation intensified, her hands glowing with a faint, electric light.

Miles teleported to her side, eyes wide. “That’s insane! Can you control it?”

“I guess we’re about to find out!” Piper yelled, her voice determined.

Another volley of energy bolts fired toward her, and she ran straight at the barrage, arms outstretched. Each blast hit her hands and chest, feeding the storm of power building inside her. It felt like she was pulling electricity from the very air, the energy flooding her muscles and sharpening her focus.

Schwoz’s voice crackled again, frantic. “Piper, be careful! Absorbing that much energy could overload your system!”

“Yeah, well, if I don’t stop that device, we’re all going to overload!” Piper shot back.

Ray’s voice echoed in her mind, steady and certain: “When things get chaotic, stay focused. Breathe. Trust your instincts.”

She took a steady breath, feeling the energy coil tighter within her. It was like holding back a tidal wave, but she wasn’t going to let it sweep her away. Not now.

“Cover me!” she shouted to the team. “I’m taking out that device!”

Chapa’s eyes sparked with electricity. “You got it, energy sponge!” She leapt out from cover, sending arcs of lightning toward the gnomes. “Hey, ceramic creeps! Try zapping someone who zaps back!”

Mika threw up a shimmering energy shield, deflecting blasts aimed at Piper. “Go, Piper! We’ve got your back!”

Bose waved his arms, holding a metal pipe like a baseball bat. “For Swellview!” he yelled, charging a group of gnomes. “And maybe snacks after!”

Schwoz’s voice chimed in again, louder now, fierce and proud. “Piper, you’ve got this! Use it. Trust yourself. No one’s better at surprising the universe than you!”

Piper sprinted toward the device, her shoes pounding against the cracked tiles. Energy beams fired from every direction, but she absorbed each one, her glow growing brighter with every step. The power within her was a storm now, desperate to break free.

The device loomed ahead, its hum now a high-pitched screech. Gnomes clustered around it, their eyes flickering wildly. They were seconds away from detonating.

Her palms burned with energy, the glow now a brilliant, blinding white. The storm inside her roared.

Not yet. Not until I’m there.

She reached the device, heat radiating from it in waves. Sparks flew in every direction, wires hissing and snapping. The sound was deafening.

“Now or never!” she shouted, planting her feet.

She thrust her hands toward the core, releasing the storm of energy she’d absorbed. A surge of white-hot power exploded from her palms, tendrils of light snaking into the device. The circuits glowed brighter, the overload building to a breaking point.

“Piper, get clear!” Schwoz’s voice yelled through the comms.

But she couldn’t stop. The power poured out of her, merging with the device’s energy. For a heartbeat, everything was blinding light and roaring static.

Then — CRACK !

The device shattered in a shower of sparks and ceramic shards. The glow from the gnomes snuffed out instantly, their eyes dimming as they collapsed to the ground, lifeless and still.

Piper’s arms trembled, her muscles weak, but she stayed on her feet. The glow faded from her hands, leaving them warm and steady. Around her, the gnomes lay in shattered pieces, their eerie glow extinguished. The device’s wreckage still crackled with dying sparks.

For a moment, the silence felt like a vacuum — a suspended second where no one dared breathe.

Then the chaos returned.

“Get them!” Miles shouted, pointing to the shadows where figures in dark robes were scrambling to flee. The gnome cultists, realizing their plan had just been obliterated, were making a break for the nearest exit.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Chapa growled, lightning crackling from her fingertips.

She darted forward, bolts of electricity arcing out and striking the floor just in front of the cultists. Sparks danced around their feet, forcing them back with terrified yelps.

One of the cultists, a lanky figure with wild eyes, tried to push through, waving his arms frantically. “The Great Ceramic Order will rise again!”

“Buddy, the only thing rising is my patience for bad cult slogans,” Chapa shot back, zapping a stun bolt that sent him sprawling backward.

Mika formed an energy barrier in front of the main exit, the translucent wall shimmering as it blocked the cultists’ escape route. “Nowhere to run!” she called out, her voice firm and commanding.

A few cultists turned to fight, pulling out small devices that looked suspiciously like gnome-themed tasers.

“Seriously?” Bose exclaimed, his brow furrowing. “Tasers shaped like gnomes? That’s just sad.”

Two cultists lunged at him, their tasers crackling. Bose’s eyes widened, and he ducked just in time. One taser-wielding cultist tripped over a broken gnome, landing face-first with a muffled groan.

“See? That’s what happens when you underestimate the power of... uh, tripping hazards!” Bose declared, then glanced at Miles. “A little help here?”

Miles grinned and teleported behind the remaining cultists, tapping one on the shoulder. “Boo.”

The cultist jumped, swinging his gnome-taser wildly, but Miles teleported away in a burst of purple light. The taser discharged harmlessly into thin air. Before the cultist could recover, Miles reappeared in front of him and punched the taser out of his hand.

“Better luck next time,” Miles quipped.

Meanwhile, Piper took a shaky breath and steadied herself, the energy still buzzing faintly in her veins. She watched the chaos unfold, her mind clearing with each passing second. She saw two cultists sneaking toward a side door, hoping to escape while everyone else was distracted.

“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered.

She focused, feeling the residual energy in her hands coalesce. Just like Ray taught me — focus, aim, release. Aiming her palms at the door, she sent out a controlled blast of energy. The doorframe crackled with electricity, and the cultists froze in place, their hair standing on end.

“Yeah, you might not want to touch that,” Piper called out, her smirk returning. “I don’t think you’d enjoy the shock.”

The cultists raised their hands in surrender, their eyes wide with fear.

“Good call,” Mika said, stepping up to them and generating glowing cuffs that clamped around their wrists. “You’re all under arrest for gnome-related crimes. And possibly for being the weirdest criminals in Swellview history.”

Piper snorted. “I still think that award goes to the Playground Pooper.” She paused, then added with a wry grin, “Which is definitely not Jasper. Though, now that I think about it, there haven’t been any incidents since he left Swellview…”

Bose’s eyes went wide. “Wait, are you saying Jasper was the Playground Pooper?!”

Piper laughed. “I’m saying nothing! But maybe the timing is a little… suspicious.”

Schwoz’s voice crackled over the comms. “Jasper is most definitely the Playground Pooper,” he said, far too casually. Then, shifting gears, his voice warmed. “But seriously, Piper — you were phenomenal. I knew you were powerful, but this? Absorbing live energy? Controlling it like that? You’re not just handling your powers anymore — you’re evolving.”

“Neither did I,” Piper admitted, flexing her fingers. “But I guess I do now.”

Chapa jogged over, a grin on her face. “If this is what ‘better control’ looks like, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Bose picked up a shattered gnome head. “I think they learned that the hard way.”

Mika clapped Piper on the shoulder. “You saved us. And you didn’t lose control.”

Piper’s chest swelled with pride. Ray’s lessons had finally paid off. The doubts that had haunted her felt smaller now, quieter.

She glanced at her hands, the faint warmth still lingering. “Let’s go home,” she said, exhaustion creeping in. “I think I’ve had enough gnome-related chaos for one night.”

They laughed, the tension melting away as they headed for the exit.

Schwoz’s voice crackled one last time. “I’ll be at the Man’s Nest with celebratory popcorn. And maybe… bedazzled frying pans?”

Piper rolled her eyes, laughing. “You do that, Schwoz.”

As they exited the aquarium, Piper's fingers brushed against the mask. It wasn’t just Henry’s anymore — it was hers, too. She wasn’t filling his shoes; she was making her own path.

The glow from Schwoz’s tablet cast harsh shadows across the Hart family’s living room. The quiet hum of electronics was the only sound breaking the stillness of the late hour. Schwoz’s fingers flew across the screen, eyes scanning lines of data as he tried to stabilize the flickering signal.

Charlotte’s signal.

His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Not when Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper were out there — running, hiding, fighting to stay one step ahead of whatever was hunting them. He felt a sick weight in his stomach, the gnawing fear that his friends were slipping further away with each second.

And now their connection to him was slipping away.

The signal faltered again, a burst of static swallowing the faint trace he’d been clinging to. The cold, metallic taste of frustration rose in his throat. His hands shook, and a growl of desperation escaped his lips.

“Come on, Charlotte,” he muttered. His voice cracked. “Hold on. Just a little longer.”

A flicker of movement caught his attention. He turned his head to see Piper standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. Her eyes were sharp, but the exhaustion behind them was impossible to miss. 

And yet she was here. Just like always. Of course she was.

“You should be asleep,” Schwoz said softly, though his voice carried no real authority. He knew she wouldn’t listen, just as he wouldn’t if the roles were reversed.

“You should be lying down too,” Piper shot back gently. “It’s been—what, twelve hours?”

Schwoz gave a tired half-smile. “Thirteen. But who's counting.”

Piper stepped into the room, the glow from the tablet illuminating her face. Her eyes searched his, and he could see the fear she was trying so hard to bury beneath a mask of determination. 

He knew that look. He’d seen it on her since she was fourteen, when she first barged into the Man Cave demanding answers. Since the night she caught him sneaking Ray’s Densitizer schematics into the sock drawer and told him point-blank, “You’re terrible at being sneaky. Teach me everything.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted. “Not when they’re still out there.”

Something in his chest cracked. She might’ve been twenty now, full of sharp words and smarter than half the legal firm she worked for—but to him, she was still the girl who used to FaceTime him at 2am from her dorm with wild theories about villain tax fraud.

He sighed, the weight of the situation pressing harder on his shoulders. There was no point in pretending everything was fine. They both knew the truth — Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper were in danger, and time was running out.

Schwoz’s fingers twitched over the screen, the data stream flickering like a candle in a storm. His pulse quickened, dread clawing at the edges of his mind. “I’m losing their signal. Something’s blocking it. If I can’t break through the interference, we’ll lose contact completely.”

He felt Piper’s eyes on him, and he braced himself. When she spoke, her voice was tight, controlled, but he heard the tremor beneath it. “We can’t lose them, Schwoz.”

Her voice wasn’t just afraid. It was scared in a way he hadn’t heard since the day she called him about her powers.

Her words struck a chord deep within him. We can’t lose them. They couldn’t afford to. He looked at her, the fear in her eyes reflecting his own. It mirrored the fear that he’d been trying to suppress for hours — the fear of losing them for good.

He swallowed hard, the words tasting bitter. “I know.”

Turning back to the screen, he summoned every ounce of his focus. He had to fix this. He had to save them. The fear that he might fail gripped his heart like a vice, but he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford doubt. Not now.

Piper moved closer, sinking onto the couch beside him. Her presence was steadying, and that only made his protective instincts surge. She shouldn’t have to face this, he thought. Yet, here she was, refusing to back down.

She leaned in, her eyes scanning the screen with him. “What’s causing the interference?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice strained with frustration. “It’s not random. This feels... deliberate. Like someone is jamming the signal.”

The idea that someone was actively cutting off Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper made his skin crawl. The thought of those three — lost, vulnerable, out there in the dark — tightened his chest like a vise. He shoved the dread deeper, fighting to stay clear-headed. He had to be the one to keep them tethered to safety.

Suddenly, the screen flickered again. A burst of static, a fragmented message trying to break through.

Schwoz’s breath caught in his throat. He worked quickly, isolating the fragments, piecing them together with trembling fingers. Letters and numbers rearranged themselves, coalescing into a single word.

BLACKOUT.

The word pulsed ominously on the screen, the glow casting eerie shadows on his face. Schwoz’s heart dropped into his stomach. His fingers froze, the cold dread settling deep into his bones. He felt like the walls were closing in.

Beside him, Piper’s brow furrowed. Her voice was a whisper, threaded with confusion and fear. “Blackout? Who’s Blackout?”

He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to drag her deeper into this nightmare. But there was no hiding it. Not anymore.

He swallowed hard. Memories flashed through his mind — the chaos, the fear, the sheer helplessness he’d felt when they’d faced this monster before. He took a shaky breath, his voice low and strained. “Blackout isn’t just a villain. He’s a monster. We faced him before — Henry, Ray, and the Danger Force kids. He doesn’t just hurt people. He... he eats their souls.”

Piper’s eyes widened, the color draining from her face. “He what?”

Schwoz nodded, his jaw tight, his hands trembling. “That’s how he grows stronger. He feeds on the souls of his victims, leaving them... empty. Hollow.” His voice cracked. “We defeated him once, but —” He swallowed hard, the bitter taste of failure coating his tongue. “He escaped. Henry always feared he’d come back. He’s too dangerous to stay gone forever.”

The word Blackout seemed to glow brighter on the screen, a malignant presence mocking their efforts. The signal was teetering on the edge of collapse, like a candle flickering in a violent storm.

“Charlotte’s warning us,” Schwoz said, his voice trembling. “She knows Blackout is involved. That’s why the signal is being blocked. He’s trying to cut them off. Isolate them.”

A surge of protectiveness flared in his chest again. He glanced at Piper, her fists clenched, her eyes blazing with a mix of fear and fury. She was too young to be carrying this weight, yet she stood stronger than he ever could have expected.

"You’re not doing this alone,” he said suddenly, the words slipping out before he even thought them. “You hear me? I’m right here, Piper. Like I’ve always been.”

She looked at him, surprised—but only for a second. Then she nodded. “I know.”

“We can’t let that happen,” she said, her voice steely.

He studied her carefully, the fire in her eyes burning away his own doubts. She was ready to fight, even with the darkness closing in. 

He still remembered the fiery, stubborn kid she used to be. But now, that fire was tempered with something stronger — a determination forged by everything she’d faced. 

“If Blackout’s involved now,” Schwoz continued, his voice thick with dread, “then Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper are in more danger than we thought. If he finds them...” The words died in his throat. He couldn’t bear to finish the thought.

“Not under our watch,” Piper said, her voice unwavering.

Schwoz nodded, his fingers trembling slightly as he clutched the tablet. “If we lose this signal completely, we’ll have no way of knowing where they are — or if they’re still safe.”

The screen flickered again, Blackout’s name pulsing one last time before dissolving into static. The final remnant of Charlotte’s signal vanished into the void.

His shoulders sagged under the crushing weight of it all.

He hated this part—being the one stuck behind the screen while others were out in danger. He hated how helpless it made him feel.

But then Piper’s voice broke through the silence, low and determined.

“We’re not giving up. We’ll find them.”

Schwoz looked at her, the fire in her eyes cutting through his despair. Despite the fear, despite the odds, she refused to back down.

Like she always did. Like she always had.

His heart swelled with a fierce protectiveness and a fragile spark of hope.

He took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. “You’re right. We’ll figure this out. We have to.”

The silence settled like a weight in the room, thick and suffocating. Schwoz’s fingers hovered over the dark screen, his mind a whirl of panic and half-formed thoughts. The name Blackout was seared into his brain, a malignant presence that refused to fade.

He took a shaky breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart. There had to be something he was missing, some piece of the puzzle that would make sense of all this. His thoughts raced through the events of the past few days, grasping at memories, connections — anything.

Then it hit him.

A cold dread twisted in his stomach.

His eyes darted to Piper, who was still staring at the now-dark screen, her fists clenched in her lap. Her face was set, determined, but the exhaustion and fear were etched deep into her features.

“Piper,” he said, his voice tight, “I need you to think back to the day I used the power Analyzer 5000 on you.”

Piper blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “When I accidentally sent out that signal?”

“Yes,” Schwoz whispered, the pieces starting to click into place with terrifying clarity. “We didn’t know who the signal was transmitted to.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not saying… it was transmitted to Blackout?”

Schwoz’s fingers curled tighter around the edges of the tablet, the cold dread in his stomach spreading through his limbs like ice. The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in as the weight of the realization settled on him.

“Yes,” he said, his voice a strained whisper. “I think that signal reached Blackout.”

Piper’s breath caught in her throat. “But… how? I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

Schwoz swallowed, his throat dry. “Your powers, Piper — they’re unpredictable, and they’re strong. That surge you sent out when the Power Analyzer 5000 overloaded… it was more powerful than anything I’ve measured before. If Blackout was lurking, even on the fringes, he could have picked it up.”

Piper’s hands trembled, her fingers clutching her knees like they were the only thing anchoring her. “So he knows where I am?”

Schwoz's heart twisted hard. He remembered all those late-night calls while she was away at school — half of them jokes, the other half panic. She always sounded invincible, even when she was falling apart. But tonight? She sounded scared.

He wanted to lie. He wanted to tell her no. But he couldn’t.

“It’s possible,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “And if he does, it means you’re in danger, Piper. Real danger.”

“Do–do you think he’s made the connection between me and Henry?” Piper asked. 

The question hung in the air like a blade poised to drop.

Schwoz’s chest tightened, the weight of the possibility pressing harder with each passing second.

He looked at Piper — at the fear in her eyes, the slight tremor in her voice — and his heart ached.

He forced himself to answer, his voice rough and reluctant. “I don’t know. But if he has… if he realizes you’re connected to Henry, then that makes you an even bigger target.”

Piper’s eyes widened, the flicker of panic she was trying to suppress sparking again. She swallowed hard, the sound painfully loud in the suffocating silence. “Then he’s not just after me — he could be after all of us.”

Schwoz’s fingers tightened around the tablet, the plastic creaking under the pressure. The image of Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper — alone, on the run, and now possibly being hunted by an enemy even more relentless than they knew — clawed at his mind. And now Piper too? The weight was almost unbearable.

A surge of protectiveness welled up in him, fierce and unrelenting. He wouldn’t let Blackout take her. He couldn’t.

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We’re not going to let that happen.”

But even as the words left his mouth, doubt gnawed at him. How could he promise that? Blackout was a monster, a force of relentless hunger and destruction. Schwoz had seen the devastation he left in his wake. The souls he consumed. The lives he hollowed out.

And yet… he looked at Piper, at the fire that still smoldered behind her fear, and something steadied in his chest.

She wasn’t fragile. Not anymore. But she still mattered more to him than almost anyone.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his own shaking hands. “We still have time. If he knows where you are, he hasn’t acted yet. That means he’s still… closing in. We can stay ahead of him.”

Piper nodded slowly, though her eyes were stormy with doubt. “But what if he’s closer than we think?”

Schwoz’s mind raced. The fear was a gnawing, persistent thing, but he pushed through it, forcing his brain to find solutions instead of spiraling into panic. There had to be a way.

“We’ll be careful,” he said, each word a promise he desperately wanted to keep. “We’ll move quietly. Stay out of sight. And I’ll keep working to track his movements, figure out where he is.”

Her hands unclenched slightly, though the tension never fully left her shoulders. “You really think we can do that?”

He hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes. We’ve outsmarted dangerous enemies before. We can do it again.”

But as the words left his lips, a cold whisper in his mind reminded him that Blackout wasn’t like other enemies. Blackout didn’t just hurt people — he devoured them. Their souls, their light, their very essence. And if he was after Piper…

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. No. He wouldn’t let it get that far. He couldn’t.

A thought sparked — a flicker of hope in the darkness.

He looked at Piper, his voice steadier now. “But we’re not alone in this. We have Ray.”

Her eyes snapped to his, a hint of relief breaking through the fear. “Ray?”

“Yes,” Schwoz said, his voice gaining strength. “Ray might be retired, but he won’t let anything happen to you. You know how he is — he’s as stubborn as a mule, and twice as determined.” He offered a  shaky smile. “And when it comes to protecting his friends, he won’t back down. Not ever.”

A small, faint smile flickered across her lips. “Yeah. He’s like that.”

Schwoz nodded, the image of Ray’s unwavering protectiveness giving him something to hold onto. “Ray might not be in the field anymore, but he’s still watching out for us. For you. And if Blackout comes anywhere near you, Ray will be ready. We will be ready.”

Piper took a deep breath, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Okay. So… we have Ray. And we have you. And we’ll figure this out.”

Schwoz felt his own resolve solidify. “Exactly. We’ll stay ahead of Blackout. I’ll reinforce the security here and keep working to track any sign of him. And Ray will be here, watching our backs.”

Her smile grew a fraction stronger. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, the gesture as much for himself as it was for her. “We’ll get through this, Piper. I promise.”

And this time, he meant it like a vow. Not as a scientist. Not even as a friend.

As the only person left who’d been watching her back since the very beginning.

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something — reassurance, maybe, or courage. He wasn’t sure if she found it, but she nodded, her jaw set with a determination that mirrored his own.

“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s figure out our next move.”

Schwoz drew in a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He forced his mind to focus on what they could control, on the steps they could take. “First, we’ll double-check the security measures here. Make sure no one can find us easily. Then I’ll keep working to trace any sign of Blackout’s presence. If we can detect him before he detects us, we might be able to stay ahead.”

She nodded, determination sparking in her eyes. “And I’ll work on controlling my powers. No more accidents.”

A wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm him, but he swallowed it down. It wasn’t her fault.She shouldn’t have to bear this.  But she was strong — stronger than he sometimes remembered — and he couldn’t afford to undermine that strength now.

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder again, firmer this time. “We’ve got this. You, me and Ray.”

For a moment, the silence returned, but it wasn’t suffocating this time. It was fragile, tenuous—the calm before the storm.

Schwoz looked at the dark screen, the ghost of Blackout’s name still seared into his mind.

The monster was out there, closing in.

But they weren’t going to let him win.

Not this time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 | The Unlikely Crime-Fighters 

Piper fell to the floor with a thud. She rubbed her head with a hand and got back on her feet, shooting Ray an irritated glare.

"Again," Ray said, his arms crossed and his expression firm.

With a groan, Piper adopted another fighting stance. "I just don’t understand why I have to learn how to fight. I mean, I already have powers. So, isn’t this pointless?"

Ray rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “You went on one successful mission with the Danger Force, and now you think you can take on experienced villains? Newsflash, Piper: powers don’t make you invincible. What happens if you lose control? Or if you’re up against someone who knows how to counter them? You need to learn how to defend yourself properly—with or without powers.”

Piper huffed, tightening her stance. “Fine. But if this ends with me having a black eye, you’re buying me some concealer.”

Ray snorted. “Deal. Now, let’s focus on your footwork. You’re way too predictable.”

He circled her like a predator eyeing its prey, tapping his chin. “Your weight is too far forward, and you’re leaving your side wide open. If I were a villain, I’d take you down in two seconds flat.”

Piper’s jaw tightened, her pride stinging. “Alright, then. Let’s see you try.”

Ray raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, you want me to fight back? Okay, Piper. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before Piper could respond, Ray darted forward, feinting to the left before sweeping his leg in a low arc. Piper barely managed to sidestep, her movements clumsy but effective. She tried to counter with a jab, but Ray caught her wrist mid-swing.

His grip was firm but steady, just enough to stop her without hurting her. Piper froze, her breath catching for half a second as she looked up at him. For a moment, the air between them felt different. But Ray quickly released her wrist and stepped back, his tone casual as he spoke.

“You’re too slow,” he said. “You need to anticipate your opponent’s moves, not just react to them.”

Piper scowled, shaking out her wrist. “Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t fight like a ninja on steroids, I’d stand a chance.”

Ray chuckled, his confidence unshaken. “Excuses won’t save you in a real fight. Come on, try again.”

This time, Piper launched into an attack, aiming a series of punches at Ray’s chest. He blocked them with ease, his movements fluid and precise. When she attempted a kick, he caught her ankle and gently pushed her off balance, sending her stumbling backward.

“Seriously?” Piper exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “Are you even trying to teach me, or is this just your way of proving you’re better than me?”

Ray crossed his arms, his expression softening slightly. “I’m trying to teach you the way I taught Henry. And trust me, he wasn’t exactly a natural at first either. But he learned because he didn’t give up, even when it was hard.”

Piper hesitated, the mention of her brother tugging at something in her chest. She exhaled sharply and adjusted her stance. “Fine. Let’s go again.”

Ray nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit. Now, remember—stay light on your feet, keep your guard up, and don’t make your moves obvious.”

They continued sparring, with Ray offering pointers between each round. Piper’s movements grew sharper, her confidence building with every successful block and counterattack. She wasn’t perfect, but she was improving, and Ray couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride.

During a brief break, Piper collapsed onto the man couch, her hair plastered to her forehead. “This better be worth it,” she muttered, gulping down water.

“It will be,” Ray said, handing her a towel. “Trust me. The day you have to face someone like Blackout, you’ll be glad you know how to throw a proper punch.”

Piper glanced at him, her expression morphing into one that held questions. "Ray, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

She shoved him gently before continuing. "Why did you choose Henry to become your sidekick?" 

Ray blinked at the question, caught off guard. He leaned against the sparring mat, arms crossing over his chest as he considered his answer. For a moment, the Man Cave felt quieter, the memories of Henry rushing back to him in a wave that was equal parts nostalgia and ache.

"Why did I choose Henry?" Ray repeated, his voice softening. "Well… at first, it wasn’t exactly about choice. He just stumbled into my world, literally. I needed someone, and he happened to answer the job advert. But…"

He trailed off, his eyes distant. Piper watched him carefully, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t used to seeing Ray like this—serious, reflective. Vulnerable, even.

“But what?” she prompted gently.

Ray sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But then I realized something. Henry had this… spark. This natural instinct to do what was right, even when it was hard. Even when it scared him. And he didn’t just follow orders—he thought for himself. He challenged me, called me out when I was wrong. He made me better.”

“So, you didn’t just pick him because he was the first kid to walk through your door?”

Ray smirked, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. I mean, at first, yeah, maybe. But Henry proved himself every single day. He wasn’t just a sidekick—he was my partner. He made me better, not just as Captain Man but as… well, me.”

The last part was barely above a whisper, but Piper caught it. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Piper fiddled with the towel in her lap, her usual sharp retorts forgotten.

Finally, she said softly, “You miss him.” It wasn’t a question.

Ray’s gaze flicked to her, and for a moment, she saw the weight of everything he was carrying—the losses, the regrets, the things left unsaid. He nodded, his voice quiet. “Every day.”

The room felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Piper hesitated, then said, “You know, Henry’s not the only one with a spark.”

Ray looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Piper said, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her tone, “I might not have it all figured out yet, but I’m not going to let you down. I’m not going to let anyone down.”

Ray studied her carefully, his blue eyes searching hers. Yet again, and much to his continuing surprise, he didn't just see Henry's little sister or the headstrong girl who barged into every situation with more attitude than tact. He saw someone stepping into her own strength, someone willing to take on the weight of the world if she had to.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he cleared his throat. “It’s not about letting me down, Piper. It’s about not letting yourself down. This life—it’s not easy. It’ll take everything you have and then some.”

“I know that,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “And I’m ready for it. I want to be ready.”

Ray hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. “You’ve changed,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Piper raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “For the better, I hope.”

“Definitely for the better,” he admitted. “But it’s still surprising.”

She laughed lightly. “What? Did you think I’d stay the same forever? Just yelling at people and trying to become the next big influencer?”

“Well, yeah,” he said with a smirk. “You were pretty good at that.”

Piper rolled her eyes but didn’t lose her smile. “Guess I had to mellow sometime.”

Ray nodded, his expression turning serious again. “And you’ve done a good job of it. But, Piper… don’t lose who you are in the process. That spark you’ve got? It’s important. It’s what’s going to set you apart.”

Piper looked down at her hands, her smile fading slightly. “What if it’s not enough? What if I screw up and make everything worse?”

“You won’t,” Ray said, his voice firm. “And even if you do, you’ll pick yourself back up. That’s what Henry did, and it’s what you’ll do, too. You’re tougher than you think.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes glinting with something close to determination. “You really think that?”

“I do,” he said, without hesitation. “And I’m going to be here to make sure you see it, too.”

Their gazes locked for a moment, and something unspoken passed between them—a quiet understanding, a shared resolve. It was heavier than their usual banter, but not uncomfortable. It felt… real.

Finally, Piper broke the silence with a small grin. “You’re just saying that because I almost landed that punch earlier.”

Ray chuckled, the tension easing. “Almost doesn’t count. But hey, keep practicing—you might surprise me someday.”

“Oh, I’ll do more than surprise you,” Piper shot back, her confidence rekindling. “This time, I’m aiming for your ego.”

“Good luck finding it,” Ray quipped, his grin widening.

Piper groaned, pushing herself to her feet. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Ray said, stepping back into the sparring area. “But I’m also right. Now, come on. We’re not done yet.”

As they squared off again, the quiet understanding between them lingered. It wasn’t just training—it was trust, the kind that could only be built through shared moments like these. 

The streets of downtown Swellview bustled with life as the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Piper walked briskly, her sneakers thudding against the pavement. She clutched a smoothie cup in one hand, the condensation making her fingers slippery. It was supposed to be her day off—a rare moment of calm amidst the chaos of law internships and unpredictable powers.

But calm wasn’t exactly Swellview’s specialty.

She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed the weird sensation creeping up the back of her neck. It was that uneasy feeling—like someone was watching her.

She stopped, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement. She scanned the area, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. People milled about, going in and out of shops, laughing, texting, arguing about who would get the last pretzel. Normal stuff.

Get it together, Piper.

She started walking again, quickening her pace. But the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it got worse.

“Okay,” she muttered, “either I’m paranoid, or—”

A loud crash echoed from an alleyway up ahead, followed by a string of mumbled expletives and something that sounded suspiciously like someone stepping on a rubber chicken.

Her eyes narrowed. Of course. Swellview.

Piper hesitated for just a second before curiosity and adrenaline got the better of her. She slipped into the alley, moving quietly as she pressed herself against the brick wall. Peering around the corner, she spotted a familiar figure.

A man in a black-and-white striped shirt, wearing a beanie too tight for his head, was wrestling with a garbage can. Half of his body was stuck inside it, his legs kicking frantically in the air.

“Come on, come on!” the man shouted, his voice muffled. “I know there’s a free TV in here somewhere!”

Piper blinked. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Of course it was Jeff—Swellview’s dumbest and most persistent petty thief. Henry and Ray had told her so many stories about Jeff’s “brilliant” criminal escapades. 

Before she could decide whether to laugh or intervene, someone stepped out of the shadows.

Her stomach dropped. “Drex?” she whispered.

Drex, with his permanent five-o’clock shadow and ever-present scowl, was standing with his arms crossed, watching Jeff struggle with a mixture of disbelief and disdain. His leather jacket creaked as he shifted his weight.

“Jeff,” Drex said slowly, like he was talking to a toddler, “that’s a garbage can, not a treasure chest.”

Jeff’s legs stopped kicking. He popped his head out, his beanie now askew and a banana peel hanging off his ear. “Well, it could be a treasure chest. You don’t know that! One man’s trash is another man’s… uh… better trash!”

Drex closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I’m even trying to mentor you.”

Piper’s confusion grew. Mentor? What was Drex doing with Jeff of all people? Drex, the same man who once tried to destroy Swellview, was playing mentor to a guy who thought trash cans held hidden treasure?

She took a cautious step forward, trying to get a better look. Unfortunately, she miscalculated the placement of her foot, which landed squarely on an empty soda can.

Crunch!

Both Drex and Jeff’s heads snapped toward her.

“Who’s there?” Drex barked, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Piper sighed, stepping into the light. “Relax, it’s just me.”

Drex’s scowl deepened. “Oh, great. You.”

Jeff squinted at her, scratching his head. “Wait, do I know you? You look… familiar. Did I try to rob you once?”

“No,” Piper said flatly, “It’s Piper—I used to date your brother, remember? And I see you haven't changed much. Still Swellview’s most clueless criminal.”

Jeff’s face lit up like she’d paid him a compliment. “Hey! That’s what the news called me!”

Drex groaned. “Don’t be proud of that, you moron.”

Piper ignored Jeff and focused on Drex. “What are you doing with him?”

Drex let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m trying something new, alright? Maybe if I keep Jeff from being an absolute disaster, I can do something useful for once.”

Jeff nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Drex is like my crime coach!”

Piper’s eyebrows shot up. “Your what now?”

“My crime coach!” Jeff repeated proudly. “He tells me when my ideas are stupid. Which is, like… almost always!”

Piper stared at Drex, her expression incredulous. “This is your idea of turning over a new leaf?”

Drex shrugged, looking embarrassed and annoyed all at once. “Hey, I didn’t say it was a good idea.”

“Look,” Piper said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “whatever you two are up to, just stop. You’re going to get yourselves arrested. Or hurt. Or both.”

Jeff looked mildly offended. “I’ll have you know, I’m an expert at not getting arrested.”

“Jeff,” Drex growled, “you got arrested last week for trying to steal a police officer’s lunch.”

“Oh yeah,” Jeff said, nodding thoughtfully. “That sandwich was so worth it, though.”

Drex turned to Piper, his voice low and frustrated. “Look, do you want to help, or do you want to lecture us? Because I could really use someone with more than three brain cells.”

“Hey!” Jeff shouted. “I have at least five brain cells!”

Piper let out a breath, glancing back toward the alley entrance. Her instincts screamed at her to walk away, but something else—something stubborn—kept her feet planted.

“Fine,” she muttered. “What exactly are you two trying to do?”

Drex grunted. “I’m trying to keep this idiot from stealing random garbage and getting himself arrested again.”

Jeff’s face lit up. “It’s a good plan, right?”

“No,” Piper deadpanned. “It’s a terrible plan.”

Drex smirked. “Now you get it.”

Before Piper could respond, a loud crash from further down the alley made all three of them tense up. The metal door of a warehouse swung open, and a burly man in a ski mask stumbled out, hauling a heavy sack over his shoulder. The sack clanked and jangled like it was full of stolen electronics.

Jeff gasped, pointing dramatically. “Uh-oh. That guy’s stealing actual stuff!”

Piper’s pulse quickened. Her palms tingled with that familiar stream of energy. This wasn’t just some goofy Jeff scheme — this was an actual crime happening right in front of her.

Drex turned to her, his jaw set. “You in, or what?”

Piper swallowed hard. The alley seemed to close in around her, the shadows stretching long and ominous as the sun sank further behind Swellview’s skyline. The bustle of the city seemed to fade away, leaving only the thundering beat of her heart and the faint jingle of the sack the masked man was hauling.

This was no longer just a weird run-in with Drex and Jeff. This was real. The weight of it made her stomach twist. She stared at the burly man with the ski mask hauling the sack over his shoulder like it was full of pillows rather than stolen goods.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but one thing was clear.

She wasn’t backing down.

Her voice came out a bit shakier than she wanted. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

Drex smirked, the familiar menace in his eyes tempered by something almost… playful. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously off the brick walls. “I say we go in, I punch him a few times, and we drag him to the cops.”

Jeff, standing beside Drex and fidgeting with his beanie, raised his hand tentatively. “Uh, question. What if he punches you first?”

Drex’s eye twitched. “Then you tackle him, Jeff.”

Jeff blinked, his brow furrowing. “Oh, I don’t know if my five brain cells are coordinated enough for that.”

Piper resisted the urge to groan. “That’s your plan? Brute force and hoping Jeff doesn’t trip over his own feet?”

Drex shrugged with a casual confidence that made her want to scream. “Hey, it works more often than you’d think.”

“Which means never,” Piper muttered under her breath. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the buzz of energy swirling inside her. This was it—another real chance to do something heroic. No Ray, no Danger Force, just her and two idiots.

Don’t mess this up, Piper.

She set her jaw, determination hardening her features. “Okay,” she said, forcing confidence into her voice. “We need a distraction. Drex, can you get his attention without, you know, immediately punching him?”

Drex’s brow furrowed, his scowl deepening. “I can try… but no promises.”

Piper turned to Jeff, who was now inspecting his fingers like he’d just discovered he had ten of them. “And you… just do whatever it is you do best.”

Jeff’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “You mean being a wild card of chaos?”

“Sure,” Piper said, blankly. “Let’s call it that.”

A surge of adrenaline shot through her veins, hot and electric, as Drex took a deep breath and stepped forward, his boots crunching on the gravel.

“Hey, pal!” Drex’s voice was a sharp, cutting bark that made Piper’s spine stiffen. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man in the ski mask spun around, his eyes narrowing beneath the fabric. He adjusted his grip on the sack, muscles tensing under his dark jacket. 

“Mind your own business!” he growled, shifting his weight like he was ready to run—or fight.

“Oh, I love making things my business,” Drex sneered, taking a few steps closer. His posture was loose, but his eyes glinted with readiness. “Why don’t you put the sack down, and we can talk about it?”

Jeff, standing awkwardly next to Drex, nodded earnestly. “Yeah! Talking is great. We love talking.”

The man glared at them, his knuckles white around the sack’s handle. “I don’t have time for this.” He reached into the sack and pulled out a crowbar, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light. He pointed it at Drex. “Walk away, or you’re gonna regret it.”

Drex’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with dangerous amusement. “I don’t scare easy.”

Piper’s heart jumped into her throat. This was going sideways—fast . Her fingers twitched, the tingling energy inside her desperate to escape. It was time for a distraction.

Before she could second-guess herself, she stepped out of the shadows, waving her arms wildly.

“Oh my god! You won’t believe it! Judge Dog is somewhere in Swellview handing out free autographs!” she yelled, her voice shrill with fake excitement.

The man blinked, his crowbar lowering slightly. “What?”

“Yeah, Judge Dog is totally here!” Piper continued, eyes wide with feigned delight. “And he’s doing a meet and greet!”

The man’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Are you serious?”

But Jeff, true to form, completely missed the point.

He gasped loudly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “No way—Judge Dog! Where? I need to go and pet him!” He spun around, scanning the alley like he actually expected Judge Dog to appear out of thin air.

Piper’s stomach sank. “Jeff, no—”

Jeff took off running—not away from danger, but toward the entrance of the alley, his arms flailing like an inflatable tube man outside a car dealership.

“I gotta get an autograph! Judge Dog is the best judge!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls.

Piper froze, her heart plummeting to her shoes.

Drex groaned. “Jeff, you absolute moron.”

The ski-masked man’s confusion turned to suspicion in record time. His eyes darted from Jeff’s retreating figure back to Piper and Drex. The crowbar came back up, the glint of steel now far more menacing.

“Nice try,” the man growled, “but I’m not falling for that.”

He lunged forward, swinging the crowbar straight at Drex. Drex barely sidestepped in time, the metal scraping against the brick wall with a screech that made Piper’s teeth ache.

“Okay, that’s it!” Drex snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. “Playtime’s over.”

He charged forward, his fist cocked back, ready to deliver a knockout blow.

But the man was faster than they expected. He spun, the sack of stolen goods swinging like a wrecking ball. The heavy bag slammed into Drex’s side, sending him stumbling into a pile of garbage bags.

“Drex!” Piper shouted, panic flaring in her chest. Her hands buzzed with energy, the crackling heat growing harder to control.

The masked man turned to her, crowbar still in hand. His eyes were cold and calculating, and for the first time, Piper felt the full weight of what she was doing. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t practice. This was real, and she was scared.

“A pretty little thing such as yourself should’ve walked away when you had the chance. What a shame,” the man said, advancing on her.

Her feet refused to move. Her brain screamed at her to run, but the adrenaline had locked her muscles in place. The tingling in her hands surged, frantic and wild.

Come on, Piper. Do something!

But before she could react, a blur of black-and-white stripes launched itself out of nowhere.

“Don’t worry, guys! I’m here to help!” Jeff yelled, leaping onto the man’s back like an overenthusiastic koala.

The masked man staggered, momentarily thrown off balance. “Get off me, you idiot!” he roared, twisting and trying to shake Jeff loose.

Jeff clung tighter, his beanie slipping down over his eyes. “I can’t see anything, but I think I’m winning!”

Drex groaned from his garbage heap. “Jeff, what are you doing?”

“Improvising!” Jeff shouted, his voice muffled by his beanie.

Piper’s heart raced. This was her chance. She clenched her fists, the energy inside her building to a crescendo. Her palms grew hot, the crackling power begging for release.

Focus. You can do this.

She took a deep breath, aimed at the ground beneath the man’s feet, and let the energy burst free.

Zap!

A crackling wave of blue light arced from her fingers, striking the pavement. The ground beneath the man’s boots sparked and hissed, a shockwave of energy jolting up his legs.

“Wha—AHH!” he shouted, his limbs jerking involuntarily.

Jeff yelped and finally let go, tumbling to the ground with a graceless thud. The masked man dropped the crowbar, his legs giving out as he collapsed onto his knees.

Drex, shaking off bits of garbage, staggered to his feet. “Nice work, Hart,” he grunted, wincing as he rubbed his ribs. “About time.”

Piper’s chest heaved, her hands still tingling from the release. “Thanks,” she said, breathless. “I think.”

Jeff scrambled up, adjusting his beanie and beaming proudly. “See? My chaos worked!”

“No, it didn’t,” Drex snapped. “You almost ruined everything!”

Jeff shrugged. “But I didn’t. And that’s what counts!”

Piper shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

She looked at Drex, who was already pulling a pair of zip ties from his jacket pocket.

“You carry zip ties with you?” Piper asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

Drex shrugged, snapping the ties around the man’s wrists with practiced ease. “Old habits.”

The distant wail of police sirens grew louder. The masked man groaned, still twitching slightly from the residual energy, his face a mix of confusion and defeat.

“Time to go,” Drex said, grabbing Jeff by the collar and hauling him to his feet.

Jeff waved cheerfully as they jogged toward the alley’s exit. “Bye, Piper! Let’s do this again sometime!”

Piper shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Unbelievable.”

She watched them disappear just as the police arrived, her pulse finally slowing. Her hands still tingled with energy, but it didn’t feel out of control.

I did it, she thought, pride swelling in her chest. I really did it.

As the officers cuffed the dazed thief and loaded him into the squad car, Piper slipped back into the bustling streets of Swellview, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

This was just the beginning.

She practically floated up the driveway of her parent’s house, a small smile tugging at her lips. For once, she felt like things were going her way. Her powers hadn’t gone haywire, she’d managed to stop an actual criminal, and Drex of all people had given her a grudging nod of approval.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” she muttered to herself, pushing the door open.

She’d been looking forward to a quiet evening. Just her, a bag of kettle chips, maybe a crime documentary narrated by someone British. But instead, she froze in the foyer.

James was sitting on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hands, chatting with her dad. Her heart skipped a beat, and she immediately felt a rush of excitement—then something else, something she couldn’t quite place. The feeling was confusing.

Her dad glanced over his shoulder, his coffee cup in hand. “Hey, Pipes! Look who stopped by.”

“James?” she asked, her voice coming out an octave higher than usual.

James looked up, that familiar, effortless smile lighting up his face. “Hey, Pipes. Surprise!”

Piper plastered on a smile as her brain tried to catch up with her body. She hadn’t known he was coming. No warning text. No flirty emoji. Just here. In her living room. Holding a mug.

It was a welcome surprise, but there was also a strange hesitation in the pit of her stomach. Was it excitement? Or something more complicated? She quickly shook it off. It didn’t matter; he was here, and that was a good thing.

Before she could think further, she rushed over and jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He felt warm, familiar, safe. And yet, a tiny part of her was still waiting for that rush of happiness that didn’t quite come.

“Wow, this is a surprise!” she said, trying to hide the hesitation in her voice. “I didn’t even know you were coming to Swellview.”

James chuckled as he pulled her in closer. “I missed you, Pipes. Figured I’d fly in. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t show up once in a while?”

As Piper opened her mouth to respond, Kris appeared in the doorway, drying her hands with a dishtowel. She paused at the sight of James.

“Oh! You must be James!”

With one arm still wrapped around Piper, James extended a hand. “Yes, ma’am. James Weston. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Kris shook his hand warmly, glancing at Piper with the kind of mom-look that said well well well. “Nice to finally put a face to the stories.”

“Good ones, I hope?” James chuckled.

Kris glanced at Piper. “Mostly.”

Before James could respond, Schwoz stepped into the room, holding a toolbox in one hand and a vibrating pineapple in the other. He stopped mid-step, narrowed his eyes at James, then raised a brow like he’d just walked into a mildly suspicious subplot.

Piper shot Schwoz a look. Don’t. Please don’t.

But Schwoz had never once let common sense win over dramatic timing.

“Well, well,” he said, waving the pineapple gently. “If it isn’t Florida Man himself. Back from the sunny swamps to grace us with his bone structure.”

James didn’t miss a beat. “Schwoz!” he grinned. “You’re still modifying fruit, I see.”

“I’ll have you know this is a fully functional lie detector. It also slices mango.” Schwoz turned to Piper with mock solemnity. “I calibrated it using Charlotte’s last visit. It beeped every time she complimented your cooking.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Because she lied, or because it was broken?”

“Unclear. But suspicious either way.”

James laughed, leaning back. “You two still fight like siblings.”

“We are like siblings,” Schwoz said with a sniff, settling onto the arm of the couch. “At least emotionally. You wouldn’t understand—it’s built on years of chaos, crimes, and one very illegal zipline.”

“I was there for the zipline,” James reminded him. “You got us banned for life from a karaoke bar.”

“That guy challenged me to a yodel-off!”

Kris looked vaguely horrified. “Is... that a real thing?”

“No,” Piper and James said at the same time.

Jake looked delighted. “It is now.”

Schwoz turned to Piper, indignant. “You see? This is the man you bring into our circle?”

“Schwoz,” she said flatly, “you’ve literally watched Die Hard with him on my dorm floor while Henry was passed out in a beanbag.”

“And it was terrible. No one offered me popcorn,” he said. Then, shifting tone just slightly, he added, “But yes. I tolerate him. Barely.”

James raised his hands with mock solemnity. “An honor I don’t take lightly.”

Schwoz narrowed his eyes, took another bite of cheese, then leaned in like he was about to share a national secret. “Just know, if you hurt her? I have access to 47 types of obscure acid.”

“Forty-nine,” Piper corrected, without missing a beat.

“Ah! You’ve been studying,” Schwoz said proudly, like a dad who just caught his kid reading the periodic table.

Piper shook her head, smiling in spite of herself.

Kris, standing off to the side, shook her head with a laugh. “It seems we’ve got a bit of a welcoming committee for James, huh?” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she exchanged a knowing glance with Piper.

James nodded, still smiling. “I guess I’m getting the full tour of the Hart family.” His voice was warm, and it made Piper feel a little lighter despite the awkwardness. But there was still that strange, nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake. She was happy to see him, but... maybe not as happy as she’d expected.

“Well,” Kris said, “James, you’ll have to tell us all about your trip here. But first, let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”

James smiled warmly at Kris. “That sounds great, thank you. It’s been a long trip.”

As Kris headed toward the kitchen, Piper felt her dad step up beside her. He gave her a conspiratorial nudge and whispered, “Seems like a nice guy. A lawyer, huh?”

Piper smiled awkwardly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he’s a lawyer.” She wasn’t sure why that made her feel self-conscious, but the weight of her dad’s stare didn’t help.

Jake, noticing her discomfort, winked. “Well, if he can survive you, he must be tough. Tell him I’m ready for the legal advice anytime.”

“Dad,” Piper groaned, feeling her cheeks turn a shade darker.

James, hearing the comment, chuckled lightly, his voice warm and playful. “I’m happy to offer advice... but only if it’s about contracts. I’m not as well-versed in family law.”

Piper turned to him, surprised by his good-natured humor. It almost felt like he was easing the tension, but the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away.

"Well, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do,” Kris said as she returned to the room, carrying a tray of snacks. She placed it down on the coffee table with a smile. “We’ll have to take you up on that, James.”

James leaned back slightly, giving Kris a polite smile. “It’s my pleasure. Although I’ll admit, I’m more used to boardrooms than family rooms.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle this room just fine,” Jake said, easing into his chair with a satisfied look, his casual demeanor making the atmosphere lighter. “No high-pressure cases here. Just snacks and bad jokes.”

“Snacks, jokes, and a fruit-based lie-detector,” Schwoz added, flopping onto the other end of the couch. “James, if this ends in emotional devastation, just know I called it first.”

“I’ll try to disappoint you by making her happy instead,” James replied with a grin.

Schwoz considered this for a moment. “Hmm. Acceptable. But I’m still not lending you my cheese slicer.”

Piper groaned again, the heat rising in her cheeks. “Can we maybe skip the dairy threats?”

James just laughed, clearly enjoying the chaos. He looked at Piper, his smile softening. “You weren’t kidding when you said your family was... interesting.”

Piper smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, they’re definitely a lot.”

Throughout dinner, Piper watched James interact with her family and Schwoz. He was charming, funny, and seemed genuinely at ease. And yet, as she stood there, taking it all in, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

She wanted to feel over-the-moon seeing him. She wanted to feel that spark that reminded her of why they were together. But instead, there was an odd hollowness—a small but undeniable sense that she was going through the motions.

“Pipes,” James said, breaking her thoughts. “You okay?”

She blinked, realizing she’d been quiet for too long. “Oh, yeah! I’m fine,” she said quickly, plastering on a smile. “Just... glad you’re here.”

James’s smile widened, and for a moment, the doubt in her chest softened. She wanted to believe it was enough, that his presence would ease whatever was bothering her. But deep down, she wasn’t sure if it would.

“Well,” Kris said, standing and stretching. “We're gonna let you kids catch up. Piper, be nice to the guy—no interrogations until after we’ve left the room.”

Jake pointed toward James as he trailed behind his wife. “You ever make her cry, I’ll call Henry and Jasper.”

“And I’ll call Drex,” Schwoz added, reappearing with a plate of cheese cubes. “He fights dirty.”

James raised his hands in mock surrender. “Duly noted.”

As her parents and Schwoz left the room, Piper and James were finally alone. The silence that followed was both comforting and heavy. Piper sat beside him on the couch, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

“So,” James said, turning to her with a soft smile. “You’ve been busy.”

She nodded, forcing a laugh. “You could say that. Internship, family, Swellview... it’s a lot.”

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Well, I’m here now. Let me help take some of that stress off.”

Piper smiled at him, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of the warmth she’d been searching for. But it wasn’t quite enough. And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew the feeling wouldn’t just go away.

“Thanks, James,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “That means a lot.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and bittersweet, as Piper wrestled with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. This was supposed to feel right. She wanted it to feel right.

And yet, something deep inside her told her this was only the beginning of the questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

The room was bathed in the cold glow of flickering monitors, each one displaying a different angle of her. 

The girl. 

Her sharp movements, her unrelenting energy, her fierce determination—it was all captured and cataloged in painstaking detail. On one screen, she stood triumphant, raw power radiating from her hands as she subdued her opponent. On another, she laughed, her expression lit with a rare moment of joy.

Blackout stood in the shadows, his black visor reflecting the fractured light. His stance was still, composed, but his hands hovered at his sides, curling and uncurling as though caught in a battle he couldn’t name.

“She’s stronger than I thought,” he murmured, his voice low and distorted by the modulator. There was no malice in his tone—just a grudging admiration that he quickly forced aside. He clenched his fists, willing his thoughts into order. This wasn’t about her. It couldn’t be.

Yet his gaze lingered on the central screen, where she smiled, standing with those two idiots, one former supervillain and the other a petty criminal. He hated how that image made something twist inside him, an unfamiliar pull he didn’t have the time or space to examine.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be,” he said softly, his words directed at her image on the screen. “Why couldn’t you just stay out of it? You had your own life, your own path. This isn’t for you.”

He turned away sharply, pacing the length of the dim room. His reflection flickered across the blank monitors, the sleek black of his helmet casting him as a faceless figure. The anonymity was comforting—it allowed him to be what Eclipse Industries needed, what his role demanded. But her… she had a way of unsettling that, of reaching past the armor he wore.

“You should hate her,” he told himself, the words ringing hollow in the empty room. “She’s just like him. Always throwing herself into things she doesn’t understand. Always standing in the way.”

But even as he said it, his chest tightened. She wasn’t like her brother. She wasn’t noble or heroic. She was… different. He hated admitting it, but her resolve, her fire—it was impossible to ignore. He found himself watching her more closely than he should, noticing the things he wasn’t supposed to notice.

Her laugh. Her determination. The way she fought to control the powers that were as much a curse as they were a gift.

Blackout stopped pacing, his head tilting slightly as he studied the paused footage on the central screen. She looked so sure of herself in that moment, so strong. But he knew better. He could see the cracks, the uncertainty she tried to hide. She was getting stronger, yes, but she was still vulnerable.

And he couldn’t decide if he wanted to protect that vulnerability or exploit it.

“They’ll push you too far,” he murmured, his voice soft now, almost regretful. “Eclipse always does. And when they do…” He trailed off, his hands tightening into fists.

He turned back to the screen, his voice hardening. “You’ll see. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll show you exactly what you’re up against. But not yet.”

His tone shifted, almost gentle as he reached out and brushed his gloved fingers across the screen where her image was frozen. “Not yet. Not until I’m ready. Not until you’re ready.”

The darkness seemed to deepen around him as he stepped back, his figure melting into the shadows. “You don’t know what’s coming next, Piper Hart,” he whispered, his voice tinged with something unreadable—something caught between duty and something more personal. “But you will.”

As the monitors flickered off one by one, plunging the room into silence, his final thought hung in the air, unspoken but heavy with meaning.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 | Captain Man

Ray was exhausted.

He sat in the dimly lit study, the glow of his laptop screen casting long shadows across the cluttered desk. A half-empty mug of cold coffee sat forgotten next to a stack of unopened mail and a few scattered paperclips.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, its hands crawling past 3:00am, but sleep was the last thing on his mind.

He leaned back in his leather chair, rubbing his temples as he stared at the screen. The search bar blinked expectantly, mocking him with its emptiness.

"Dystopia," he muttered under his breath, fingers hovering over the keys.

He typed and re-typed the word so many times tonight that it had started to lose meaning.

What was he even looking for?

Ray's jaw tightened as he clicked through yet another article, this one a vague conspiracy blog about 'shadow organizations' and 'secret cities'. Most of it was nonsense, but every now and then, he'd find a kernel of truth—Evil Science Corp had been bought by a new company, Eclipse Industries, and the CEO was an enigmatic visionary who went by the name Jane Vex.

The blog had listed wild rumors about hidden facilities and unethical experiments, but Ray had clicked off the article, dismissing it as paranoid ramblings.

It was a needle-in-a-haystack approach, and so far, the haystack was winning.

With a frustrated sigh, he slammed his laptop shut, the sudden silence deafening. Upstairs, Credenza and Buddy were asleep, and he didn't want to wake them.

He pushed himself out of the chair and began quietly pacing the length of the room. His thoughts churned, a relentless loop of worry and guilt. His best friends, Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper, were out there, somewhere, and he'd failed to to protect them. Now Piper was caught in a fight she had no business being in. His chest tightened at the thought.

Ray's eyes landed on the bookshelf, where a framed photo sat between dusty novels. It was from the good old days, back when the Man Cave was alive with energy. Henry grinned next to him in the center, Schwoz beside him doing the peace sign, while Charlotte stood at the front, her expression both amused and exasperated. Jasper was half out of the frame, mid-laugh, holding up what appeared to be a golden bucket.

He picked up the photo, his thumb brushing over the glass. They'd been through so much together.

And now, they were gone.

Even though they were thousands of miles apart, Ray had promised himself he'd keep an eye on them, reach out regularly to make sure they were safe.

He'd failed.

With a sigh, he placed the photo back and returned to his desk. The laptop blinked to life as he opened it again, more out of habit than hope. He typed another search, clicking through pages of irrelevant results.

Then, something caught his eye—an article buried deep in a forum thread.

Ray clicked on it, his heart skipping a beat as the page loaded.

The headline was stark: "WANTED IN DYSTOPIA: Fugitives Henry Hart, Charlotte Page, and Jasper Dunlop."

His stomach dropped as he scrolled down, his eyes locking onto grainy photos of Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper. The low quality of the photos couldn't hide the fear in their eyes or the weight they seemed to carry on their shoulders.

These weren't the carefree kids he'd once known, cracking jokes with him in the Man Cave. They were fugitives now, caught in the crosshairs of something far more dangerous than they could have imagined.

The text below outlined a list of fabricated charges—espionage, sabotage, and theft. The words blurred as Ray's mind raced.

Why wasn't this reported anywhere else? Why only in Dystopia?

And why was it hidden in a forum?

"What did you get yourselves into?" he whispered to no one.

He scrolled further, noting that the article was from a local Dystopian news site. The site's layout was crude, it's credibility questionable, but the images were unmistakable.

"No," Ray muttered, leaning back in his chair.

His hands gripped the armrests as he tried to steady his breathing. This only confirmed his suspicions—it wasn't just a fight against Blackout. This was something far bigger at play, something that had swallowed his friends whole.

Ray clenched his fists. Retirement was supposed to be his reward—a chance to step back, to live a normal life for once. But how could he justify walking away when everything was falling apart? When Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper were on the run and Piper was caught in the crossfire?

His reflection in the laptop screen caught his eye, and he grimaced.

He didn't look like a hero anymore. The tired lines on his face, the slump in his shoulders—they told a story of someone who'd given it all up.

But the truth was, Ray hadn't given up. He'd just convinced himself that stepping aside was the right thing to do.

That the world didn't need Captain Man anymore.

But maybe he was wrong.

Downtown Brown bustled with the low hum of conversations, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the occasional clatter of mugs. Piper leaned back in her chair, fingers curled around her steaming latte, as her boyfriend sat across from her, gesturing animatedly.

"So there we were," James said, a grin spreading across his face, "trying to assemble this cheap desk Logan ordered online. He insisted he didn't need the instructions, claiming 'real geniuses improvise'. Long story short, the desk only had three legs by the end of it, and he blamed the manufacturer."

Piper snorted, shaking her head. "That sounds about right. Logan can't follow instructions if his life depended on it."

James chuckled, stirring his coffee. "It gets better. The whole thing collapsed while he was trying to show off how sturdy it was. The look on his face when he landed in the pile of wood? Priceless."

Piper couldn't help but laugh, imagining the scene. "That's what he gets for being a know-it-all."

James took a sip of his coffee, his expression relaxing. "You'd think he'd learn, but nope. Anyway, it's been entertaining staying at his place."

At that, Piper raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Has he driven you completely insane yet?"

James leaned back, his lips quirking into a small smile. "It's actually been fine. Logan's not as bad as you think he is. He's been letting me crash with him while I'm visiting, and honestly, I've missed the dude. We stayed up late last night, had a few beers and just talked."

"Next you're going to tell me you held hands and sang 'Kumbaya'," Piper said with another snort.

James laughed, shaking his head, as Piper continued, "I don't know how you deal with him. Simply being in the same room as him—let alone working together on a case—has me pulling out my hair."

James smirked. "You need to try getting along with him. It wouldn't kill you, you know."

Piper shot him a look, her voice tinged with annoyance. "Why is everyone always telling me to get along with Logan? As if it's my fault that we don't get along."

"Maybe because you're constantly at each other's throats," James said lightly, though his gaze softened as he watched her reaction. "Seriously, Pipes. He's not the enemy. You might even find him tolerable if you gave him the chance."

Piper leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Logan's as tolerable as nails on a chalkboard. He's fine in theory, but the second you try to deal with him, he ruins everything."

James laughed, shaking his head. "That's an interesting analogy, but okay. Just remember, I warned you—one day you're going to realize he's not as bad as you think."

"Highly doubtful," Piper shot back, though her lips twitched into a faint smirk. She glanced out the window, watching people bustle past on the sidewalk, before turning back to James. "Anyway, enough about Logan. How's work? Is your big case still eating up all your time?

James's expression faltered for the briefest moment before he nodded, his smile returning. "Yeah, it's been a lot. The firm's counting on me to get everything in order. Late nights, endless paperwork, the usual lawyer grind."

Piper studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing. "You've been cancelling a lot of our plans lately. Even before I came back to Swellview. Is it really that bad, or is there something else going on?"

James hesitated, his gaze dropping to his coffee. He stirred it absently, his voice quieter when he spoke. "It's just... a lot of pressure, you know? The case is huge, and I can't afford to mess it up."

Her irritation softened as she watched him. She reached across the table, resting her hand over his. "Hey. You're amazing at what you do. You'll figure it out. But don't forget to take a break now and then, okay? Even lawyers are allowed to loosen up once in a while and blow off some steam."

James glanced up at her, his smile tinged with something she couldn't quite place. "Thanks, Pipes. That means a lot." He gave her hand a squeeze before pulling away, clearing his throat. "So, uh, what about you? How's the internship going?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but James leaned forward, catching her by surprise. His lips brushed against hers, gentle and warm, and for a moment, she froze. Then, she kissed him back briefly, but her mind wandered. The spark that used to light up her chest when he kissed her—where was it now?

Quickly ignoring the thought, she pulled away with a forced smile.

"It's... going well enough," she said, her voice quieter now. She glanced down at her latte, avoiding James's eyes.

James, oblivious to her inner turmoil, smiled at her warmly. "Good. I know you're crushing it. You always do."

Piper nodded, the knot in her stomach tightening. "Thanks," she said softly, sipping her coffee as her thoughts churned.

After a few minutes of lingering silence, James excused himself to the bathroom, flashing Piper a quick grin as he stood. "Don't start a fight with anyone while I'm gone, okay?"

Piper rolled her eyes, waving him off. "I'll try my best."

She swirled her coffee absently, her thoughts drifting to the mystery surrounding her brother's disappearance. But before she could lose herself in the spiral of speculation, an all-too-familiar voice snapped her out of it.

"Piper Hart?"

Her head snapped up, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Standing a few feet away was Jana Tetrazini, her once chemically straightened hair now in natural curls, her style noticeably more polished and less loud. Piper blinked, unsure whether she was more stunned by Jana's presence or her transformation.

"Jana?" She said, her tone hovering somewhere between confusion and suspicion. "What are you doing here?"

Jana gestured vaguely at the counter behind her. "Getting coffee, obviously." She offered a tight smile, her tone lacking its usual bite. "I didn't expect to see you here. Swellview's not exactly a big reunion spot."

"Yeah, well, I'm here for an internship," Piper said, sitting up straighter. "What about you? Last I heard, you were all about leaving this place for good."

Jana shrugged, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "I was. But, you know, life has a way of dragging you back sometimes." She paused, her gaze flicking over Piper's face as if assessing her. "You look... different."

Piper blinked, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. "So do you," she said carefully. "I barely recognized you."

Jana laughed lightly, tucking a curly strand behind her ear. "Yeah, well, we all grow up eventually. Some of us more gracefully than others."

There it was—that subtle jab that made Piper's fingers twitch. Still, there was something different about Jana's demeanor. The old, unapologetically condescending edge was dulled, replaced by a more subdued confidence. It was disarming.

"Guess so," Piper replied, her tone even. "So, what's the deal? Are you back in Swellview for good, or just passing through?"

Jana hesitated, glancing down at the coffee cup in her hands. "For now. Family stuff, mostly. It's... complicated."

Piper tilted her head, curiosity briefly outweighing her lingering wariness. "Complicated how?"

Jana's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Piper thought she wasn't going to answer. Then she shrugged. "Just trying to figure things out. You know how it is."

Piper nodded slowly, though she couldn't say she fully understood. This version of Jana—the one who wasn't lording her achievements over Piper—was unfamiliar territory. It left her feeling oddly off-balance.

"So," Jana said, her gaze drifting toward the bathroom door. "You're here with someone?"

“Yeah,” Piper said, straightening a little. “My boyfriend, James.”

“Boyfriend,” Jana repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Impressive. Didn’t think you’d be the type to settle down.”

Piper bristled slightly, but Jana’s tone was less mocking and more genuinely surprised. She relaxed just a fraction. “Yeah, well, he’s a lawyer, so he keeps me on my toes.”

Jana hummed, her expression unreadable. “Good for you. I mean that.”

Before Piper could decide how to respond, James reappeared, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced between the two women, his brow furrowing slightly. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Fine,” Piper said quickly, standing up. She gestured toward Jana. “This is Jana. We, uh… knew each other in school.”

Jana offered a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”

James nodded back, clearly sensing the tension but choosing not to comment. “Well, hate to interrupt, but we should probably get going. Don’t want to be late for the next thing.”

Piper gave Jana one last glance, her curiosity still lingering. “Good seeing you,” she said, her tone neutral.

“Yeah,” Jana replied, her smile faint but sincere. “You too.”

As Piper and James left the coffee shop, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Jana’s return to Swellview than she was letting on. Something about the encounter nagged at the back of her mind, but she pushed it aside for now. She had bigger things to worry about.

As they walked around Swellview Park, hand in hand, Piper turned to her boyfriend, her eyes scanning over the children playing soccer on the field.

"Do you believe people can change?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

James peered down at her, raising an eyebrow. "In what context?"

"I don't know." Piper shrugged, her tone casual but tinged with curiosity. "Like... become less conceited? More mature? Less of a walking ego?"

James laughed, clearly amused. "This about anyone in particular, or are we being hypothetical?"

Piper nudged him with her shoulder. "You remember that girl we ran into at the coffee shop? Jana Tetrazini?"

"Yeah, your so-called childhood nemesis," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What about her?"

"She seemed different," Piper said, frowning slightly. "Not as obnoxious as I remember. Actually, she was kind of polite. It threw me off."

James smirked as he adjusted his grip on her hand. "Polite? That must have been a shock."

Piper shot him a playful glare. "I'm serious. It made me think—maybe people really can grow and change for the better, you know?"

James's smirk faded as he turned his gaze ahead. He was quiet for a minute, until finally he said, "I don't think people change, not really. They can act different, sure. Put on a show. But deep down? People are who they are. The rest is just a mask."

She frowned, the disappointment flickering across her face before she could hide it. "You really think that?"

"Yeah," he replied, his tone casual but firm. "It's human nature. We adapt, we learn, but who are we at our core? That doesn't change."

Piper let go of his hand, crossing her arms as they continued walking. "That's kind of a bleak way to see the world, don't you think?"

James glanced at her, his brows knitting together. "I'm just being realistic, Pipes. People don't suddenly wake up one day and decide to be someone else."

"Maybe not overnight," she countered, her voice sharpening. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible. I've seen people grow, evolve—become better versions of themselves. Hell, I've done it."

James stopped walking, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, his voice quiet.

"Have you?"

The question hit her lie a splash of cold water.

She blinked, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just mean..." he hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "You're still the same Piper I met in Florida—driven, stubborn, headstrong. That's not a bad thing. But you haven't changed as much as you think."

The words stung more than she expected. She stared at him, her arms tightening around herself.

"So what? You think I'm just stuck in one place, incapable of growing?"

James sighed, his tone softening. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you don't need to change. You're already you. And that's enough."

Piper looked away, her chest tightening. The conversation wasn't going the way she imagined. His words, while meant to reassure, felt dismissive—as if he couldn't see her striving to be better, to rise above her past.

"Thanks," she muttered, her voice clipped. "But for the record, I don't agree. I think people can change. They can choose to be better."

He didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her before he shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you're the exception."

Piper glanced at him, searching his face for sincerity, but his expression was guarded. The moment passed in silence, the distant sounds of laughter and chirping birds filling the void.

She forced a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, for a lawyer, you're terrible at winning arguments."

James smirked, his posture relaxing. "And yet, I still get the final word."

Piper rolled her eyes, but her thoughts remained tangled as they resumed their walk.

For the first time, she found herself wondering if James truly saw her—or if he only saw the version of her that fit neatly into his world.

Schwoz spun around in his chair in Ray's study, the faint creak echoing in the quiet room. The study was surprisingly cozy for someone like Ray, filled with scattered papers, a few dusty trophies from his Captain Man days, and shelves of books that looked untouched.

Schwoz didn't even know that Ray owned books since the man hated reading.

A lamp cast a warm glow over the desk where Ray was hunched over his laptop, scrolling intently.

"You know, Ray," Schwoz began, breaking the silence, "it's so rare to see you so serious about anything that isn't food or pranks."

Ray shot him a look, his expression unusually somber. "Yeah, well, this Blackout guy isn't exactly prank material."

Schwoz leaned forward, noting the dark circles under Ray's eyes. "Have you been getting any sleep? Because, Ray, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look as handsome as you usually do."

Ray shot him a flat look, his fingers pausing on the laptop keyboard. "Thanks, Schwoz. Really boosting my confidence here."

Schwoz shrugged, unbothered. "I'm just saying, you look... tired. And maybe a little grumpy. Like, more grumpy than usual. Maybe you should take a break, eat a sandwich, and let your brain relax."

Ray sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't have time to relax. Between trying to find Henry and the others, and training Piper, I've got my work cut out for me. Piper's training is coming along, but she's not ready for Blackout. Speaking of which, where is she? I haven't heard from her at all today."

"She’s with James," Schwoz said, leaning back in his chair. "Her boyfriend. You know, the tall one with the law degree and the voice like a podcast narrator."

Ray glanced up from his laptop. "Wait, I thought she said he lived in Florida?"

"He flew in," Schwoz replied, a little too casually. "Surprised her at the house. He’s got this whole ‘charming surprise visit’ thing down to a science."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "And you’re just... cool with that?"

Schwoz hesitated, then made a so-so motion with his hand. "I like James. He’s funny, respectful, knows how to assemble IKEA furniture without starting a fire—and he’s never once mocked my accent. So yeah, I’m mostly cool with him."

Ray gave him a look. "But...?"

"But he’s dating Piper," Schwoz said bluntly. "And that earns him a lifetime membership to my Internal Suspicion Club. I know him. I’ve met him. I even like him. Doesn’t mean I’m not watching him like a hawk with a suspicious past and a pineapple lie detector."

Ray smirked faintly. "Suspiciously good hair? That's your red flag? Because if it is, I must be public enemy number one."

Schwoz rolled his eyes. "Your hair is more accidentally perfect. His looks like it could survive a tornado. There's a difference."

Ray chuckled softly. "Alright, I'll bite. What's your actual problem with this guy? You just met him yesterday. And he seems fine from what I hear, though, I don't exactly have a radar for these kind of things."

Schwoz gave him a sideways glance. "Not just yesterday. I’ve met James a bunch of times when I visited Piper at college. We’ve eaten nachos together. He once carried me across campus because my Crocs broke. He's… nice."

Ray looked confused. "Then why the background check?"

"Because being nice doesn't mean he's not hiding something," Schwoz said, tapping his tablet. "I've seen too many charming people turn out to be villains. Remember when Drex cried at that dog commercial when he was your sidekick and then tried to blow up the sun when he unexpectedly turned evil? Trust but verify."

Ray raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Still, isn't that a little invasive?"

"Not at all," Schwoz said, waving a hand dismissively. "Piper’s been through a lot, and I like to be... thorough. I sleep better when I know who’s hovering around my best friend’s emotional core."

Ray tilted his head. "That’s... weirdly sweet. And deeply unsettling."

Schwoz shrugged. "What can I say? I’m loyal. And after the whole Credenza situation, I swore I wouldn’t get caught off guard again."

Ray winced slightly as he leaned back in his chair. The mention of Credenza's past crimes was enough to put a damper on the mood, and Schwoz immediately regretted bringing it up. He didn't want Ray to feel guilt over his best friend's dislike of his girlfriend.

"Okay, okay, forget I said that," Schwoz said quickly, waving his hands in a placating gesture.

Ray smiled faintly at Schwoz's flustered attempt to backtrack. "Relax, Schwoz. I'm not spiraling because of Credenza... this time."

Schwoz exhaled in relief, though he couldn't help but mutter, "Good, because we don't have time for another one of your emotional monologues."

Ray shot him a mock glare, but let it slide. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, and rubbed his temples. "Look, if you're running a background check on James, just tell me if you find anything. Don't want to accuse the guy of anything without a reason."

Schwoz nodded, his demeanor unusually serious. "I will. But until then, we should keep an eye on her. She might not see it, but something doesn't add up. And Ray—trust your instincts. You've been doing this superhero thing a long time, and just because you're retired doesn't mean they're gone."

Ray huffed a soft laugh, though it was tinged with weariness. "Yeah, well, instincts didn't exactly help me keep Henry and the gang out of trouble, did it?"

Schwoz tilted his head, his expression softening. "Henry made his own choices, Ray. And so will Piper. But that doesn't mean you stop looking out for her. Just be there when she needs you."

Ray stared at the ceiling for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. You're right. Piper's tough, but she doesn't always think things through. I'll keep an eye on her."

Schwoz's tablet beeped, drawing his attention. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "Speaking of things to keep an eye on... I just picked up some strange energy fluctuations at the park."

Ray sat up straighter. "Swellview Park? Do you think Piper could be there?"

Schwoz's frown deepened as he tapped on the screen. "Maybe. It's faint, but it's the same kind of energy signature we've seen from Blackout's interference before. It could be a coincidence, but—"

"Or it could mean Blackout's keeping tabs on her," Ray finished, his voice grim. He stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "I'm going to check it out."

He stood with determination, shrugging on his jacket as he moved toward the door. Schwoz hurried after him, tablet in hand.

“Ray, wait,” Schwoz said, his tone unusually serious. “We can’t just assume this is Blackout without more information. What if you go there and it’s nothing? Or worse—what if it’s a trap?”

Ray paused in the doorway, turning back to Schwoz. “If there’s even a chance that Blackout is targeting Piper, I’m not sitting here waiting for something to happen. She’s out there, Schwoz. And if she’s in danger, I’m not going to let her face it alone.”

Schwoz hesitated, his gaze flicking between Ray and his tablet. “Then at least let me come with you. Or let the Danger Force handle this.”

Ray shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension. “You hate fieldwork. And besides, someone needs to stay here and keep monitoring the signals. If this is a trap, I need you to figure out where it’s coming from. I also don't want to get the Danger Force involved just yet.”

Schwoz frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, he tapped a few buttons on his tablet, pulling up a map with blinking coordinates. “Fine. But take this with you. It’ll help you track the exact source of the fluctuations.”

Ray grabbed the tablet, nodding his thanks. “Keep the comms open. If anything changes, let me know.”

As Ray headed toward the door, Schwoz called after him. “And, Ray? Be careful. You’re not as invincible as you used to be.”

Ray stepped outside, the doors sliding shut behind him. For a moment, he leaned against the wall, his expression shifting from determined to pensive. Schwoz’s words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside.

He had one job right now: find Piper and make sure she was safe.

The tablet tightened in Ray's grip as he made his decision. He leaned against a tree at Swellview Park, his eyes scanning the area. Across the grassy expanse, he spotted Piper sat on a bench with whom he presumed to be James, their heads close together. She was laughing at something he said, completely at ease.

Ray switched on his earpiece. "I've got a visual on Piper. She's here with her boyfriend. Energy signature's on the other side of the park."

Schwoz’s voice crackled through the comm. “If it’s that close, it could mean they’re monitoring her.”

Ray’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering back to Piper. She tossed her head back with another laugh, her guard down, completely unaware of the potential danger lurking nearby. He hated how vulnerable she looked, even if she didn't realize it.

“Yeah," Ray muttered. "That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Do you want me to ping her phone? Maybe give her a heads-up?” Schwoz asked.

Ray hesitated, his thumb hovering over his earpiece. Across the park, James leaned closer to Piper, their laughter blending with the ambient sounds of children playing and bird chirping. She looked happy, relaxed, and Ray wasn't sure he wanted to disrupt that.

“No,” Ray said finally. “I don’t want to tip them off. I’ll check it out first. If it’s Blackout, I’ll handle it.”

Schwoz’s sigh was audible even through the comm. “Just don’t do anything reckless.”

Ray smirked faintly, his eyes narrowing on the direction of where the energy signature hovered. “Me? Reckless? Never.”

He slipped the tablet into the inside compartment of his jacket and pushed off the tree, his eyes darting around the park one more time. His gaze lingered on Piper, her golden hair catching the sunlight as she leaned into James, completely unaware of the storm building just beyond her view.

As he walked toward the other side of the park, something caught the corner of his eye. Ray froze mid-step, his breath hitching in his throat. Across from him, framed by lush greenery, stood two bronze statues of Kid Danger. The tribute to Henry had been erected after his sacrifice—immortalizing his bravery for the people of Swellview to remember.

Ray's chest tightened as he approached the statue, his feet moving on autopilot. The bronze glint of Henry's mask, the confident stance, the exaggerated smiles—it was all wrong. Too polished, too perfect, too much like the hero they wanted him to be, and not the friend Ray had lost.

He stopped a few feet from the statue, his hand brushing over the edge of the plaque beneath it. 'In honor of Kid Danger: Protector of Swellview, Forever Our Hero.'

Ray swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Forever our hero," he muttered under his breath. The words felt like a knife to the gut, sharp and unyielding. Because Henry had been a hero, but he'd also been a teenager. And even though he was all grown up now, Ray had failed to protect him.

The guilt churned in his stomach, mixing with the anger that always simmered beneath the surface. Anger at himself, at Blackout, at the Dystopia for taking Henry away. His fingers curled into a fist as he looked up at the statue, his voice low. "You shouldn't have had to be their hero, kid."

"Ray?" Schwoz's voice crackled in his ear. "Are you still there?"

Ray tore his eyes away from the statue and started toward the source of the energy signature, which was now moving.

"Yeah," he said, his voice steady. "I'm here."

"Do you need backup?" Schwoz asked.

"No," Ray replied. "Just keep an eye on Piper's location and let me know if anything changes."

A few blocks away, the source of the energy fluctuations drew Ray into a dark, narrow alleyway. The bustling sounds of Swellview Park faded as he stepped into the shadows, his senses on high alert. His tablet emitted steady beeps, guiding him deeper into the dimly lit passage.

The air was thick with tension, and Ray’s instincts screamed at him to turn back. But he pushed forward, gripping the tablet tightly. If Blackout was here, he needed answers now.

The beeping grew louder, faster, until it suddenly stopped. Ray froze, his body tensing as his sharp eyes scanned the area. The alley appeared empty save for a few discarded boxes, a flickering streetlight casting an eerie glow over the scene.

And then, the silence was broken by a faint, distorted voice crackling through the air.

“Captain Man… retired but still meddling.”

Ray’s heart skipped a beat. His jaw clenched as he turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. “Blackout,” he muttered, his voice steady despite the unease settling in his chest. “I should’ve known you’d show up eventually.”

A shadow flickered at the corner of his vision. Ray spun around, his fists clenched and ready. But the shadow disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving him staring at nothing.

The voice chuckled—low, menacing, and far too confident. “Oh, I’m not here to fight you. Not yet. But it’s good to see you’re still as predictable as ever.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed as he took a cautious step forward. “If you’re not here to fight, then why bother showing up?”

“To remind you,” the voice replied, its tone mocking, “that you’re not the only one keeping an eye on her.”

Ray’s stomach twisted. His pulse quickened as his protective instincts surged. “If you touch her—”

The voice cut him off, its dark chuckle echoing in the alley. “Careful, Captain. You’re in no position to make threats. You’re just an old man chasing ghosts.”

The words stung, but Ray refused to let them show. He stood his ground, his gaze scanning the alley for any sign of movement.

“You made a mistake coming here,” he said, his tone daring Blackout to prove him wrong.

“Did I?” the voice taunted, growing fainter as if retreating into the shadows. “Or did I come here to remind you just how out of your depth you are?”

Ray’s breath hitched as he stared in the direction of where the voice was coming from, his fists clenched and his heart pounding as the weight of the moment pressed on him.

“You really think you can take me down, Captain Man?” Blackout taunted, his faint voice a chilling blend of mockery and confidence. “It’s cute, honestly.”

Ray narrowed his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “You know, for someone who hides in the shadows, you sure talk a lot.”

“Oh, I’m not hiding. I’m just waiting. You’d be surprised how easy it is to stay ahead when you already know the moves of every player on the board.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Blackout said, his tone dripping with satisfaction, “I know who you are, Ray Manchester. Or should I say, Captain Man. And, I know all about your little team. Danger Force, isn’t it? Mika, Miles, Bose, Chapa…”

Ray’s stomach dropped, his breath catching for a fraction of a second. He had been too caught up in trying to find Blackout that he hadn't even realized the villain continuously addressing him by his retired superhero identity.

He quickly masked his fear with a glare, but the damage was done. He could hear Blackout's laugh taunting him.

“How?” Ray demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “How do you know that?”

Blackout chuckled, the sound cold and hollow. “Oh, Captain, did you really think your secrets were safe? We’ve been watching for a long time. We know all the players, all the weaknesses. You can thank your buddy Henry for that… indirectly, of course.”

The mention of Henry was like a punch to Ray’s gut. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of what he knew. Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper had been on the run because of something bigger—something tied to Dystopia. And now, it was especially clear that Blackout was part of that same tangled web. But who were the other players?

“We?” Ray asked, honing in on the word. “You said ‘we.’ Who are you working for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Let’s just say… we’re everywhere. And we’re not done yet.”

Ray’s mind spun. Blackout’s use of “we” confirmed his suspicions—this wasn’t a lone wolf. There was an army behind him, one with resources, intel, and a chilling level of precision. But why target Henry? And why target Piper? What did they want with them?

“You won’t win,” Ray said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Whatever you’re planning, you’ll fail. Because no matter how much you think you know, you’ll never understand what makes us stronger than you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself? That teamwork and loyalty will save the day? How quaint. But this isn’t a comic book, Captain. This is real life. And in real life, the good guys don’t always win."

And then, just like that, the voice disappeared. The alley fell silent, an unsettling stillness blanketing the space.

Ray stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. The alley felt colder, emptier, as if Blackout’s presence had drained it of warmth. His mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to form a slightly clearer picture—but the image was far from complete.

"Schwoz," he said, through the earpiece, his voice sharp. “You heard all that. We need to find out exactly who 'they' are and how much they know. And we need to warn the team. Now.”

Schwoz answered, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m on it. But Ray… if they know this much already, we might be too late to stop them from making their next move.”

Ray’s jaw tightened as he stared at the spot where Blackout's voice had disappeared.

“Then we’ll just have to be faster,” he said.

But deep down, a knot of unease settled in his chest. For the first time in a long time, Ray felt like he was a step behind. And that terrified him.

As he made his way back toward his car, stilled parked near the entrance of Swellview Park, Ray’s resolve hardened. Blackout thought Ray was predictable, thought he was irrelevant.

But Blackout had made one fatal error: he underestimated the man who’d dedicated his life to protecting the people he cared about.

And Ray Manchester wasn’t about to let his guard down.

He stepped into his car and started the engine, his mind racing. Whatever game Blackout was playing, Ray was ready to flip the board—and make his next move count.

Chapter Text

Part 2

The air in Dystopia was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal filling Henry’s lungs as he sprinted through the crumbling remains of what had once been a marketplace. Gunfire crackled in the distance, punctuated by the occasional explosion, and through it all, the sound of heavy boots echoed against the hollowed-out buildings. They were being hunted.

“Go left!” Charlotte’s voice rang through the comm in his ear, barely audible over the chaos.

Henry didn’t hesitate. He pivoted sharply, leading Jasper through a broken archway into what might have once been a supply depot. Now, it was just another ruin swallowed by Dystopia’s endless chaos.

“We’re running out of places to go, Char!” Henry yelled, slamming his back against a charred pillar, trying to catch his breath.

Jasper, panting beside him, wiped sweat from his brow. “This place sucks,” he muttered. “I don’t know how we keep ending up in the worst possible situations, but I’d really like to stop.”

Henry shot him a look. “If you have a suggestion, I’m all ears.”

“Yeah, I suggest we leave. Immediately.”

Before Henry could respond, the comm crackled again. Charlotte’s voice, tense and urgent. “Guys, they’re closing in. I’m cutting through the alleyway behind you—just keep moving!”

Henry barely had time to register her warning before a chilling voice echoed through the broken corridors.

“You’re making this too easy, Hart.”

The sound sent a cold shiver down his spine. He knew that voice.

Blackout.

“Move!” Henry grabbed Jasper’s arm and shoved him forward just as a pulse of dark energy exploded behind them, ripping through the stone wall. The force sent both of them tumbling, debris raining down in a cloud of dust.

Henry coughed, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. Jasper groaned beside him, dazed but conscious.

A slow, deliberate set of footsteps approached.

Henry barely managed to roll onto his back before a figure emerged from the smoke—Blackout, cloaked in shadow, his piercing red eyes burning through the haze.

“I really hoped you’d put up more of a fight,” Blackout mused, flexing his fingers. Wisps of dark energy curled around them like smoke. “But you always were more of a runner, weren’t you?”

Henry clenched his jaw, willing himself to move, but Blackout flicked his wrist, sending another surge of energy crackling through the air. Henry braced himself, ready to raise his forcefield—

But the blast never hit him.

Instead, Jasper had thrown himself in front of Henry, raising an arm in a desperate attempt to shield them. The energy struck him directly, sending him hurtling backward, crashing through a weakened wall.

“Jasper!” Henry yelled, scrambling to his feet. He tried to reach him, but Blackout stepped between them, his smirk widening.

“Oops,” he said, mockingly. “Looks like I’m one step ahead again.”

Henry gritted his teeth. “Where is he?”

Blackout tilted his head as if considering. “Hard to say. That blast? Could’ve sent him a mile in any direction. Might be fine. Might be dead.” His smirk deepened. “Guess you’ll have to live with the uncertainty.”

Henry’s hands balled into fists, rage burning in his chest, but before he could lunge, Charlotte’s voice cut in through his earpiece.

“Henry, we have to go. Now.”

“No—Jasper—”

“He’s gone!” Charlotte snapped. “And if you don’t move, we will be too!”

Blackout let out a low chuckle, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Swellview seems like such a nice place this time of year. Think I should visit?”

Henry’s heart pounded. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Stay away from my city.”

Blackout laughed. “Oh, Hart. I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands.”

Henry turned toward Charlotte’s voice just as she skidded into view, her cybernetic enhancements humming faintly. “We have to go now!” she urged, grabbing his arm.

Henry cast one last furious glare at Blackout, then turned and ran.

Blackout’s laughter echoed after them, taunting, promising that this wasn’t over.

Charlotte led Henry through a maze of shattered buildings, her mechanical limbs making quick, efficient movements. “We’ll find Jasper,” she said, her voice firm but edged with worry. “He's fine, I know he is. But first, we need to make sure that none of the evidence we've collected was taken.”

Henry exhaled sharply, nodding. "You're right. Jasper's resilient, he'll find us.”

As they disappeared into the wreckage of Dystopia, Blackout watched with satisfaction, his smirk deepening. The game had only just begun.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 | Rising Tensions

Piper stepped into the Man Van and immediately sensed the shift. She hadn’t seen Ray since her training session the previous day, and Schwoz’s text telling her to meet them now—with no explanation—had her stomach churning.

As she entered, she noticed that Ray was seated at the table, unusually still with his arms crossed, a scowl locked firmly on his face. Schwoz hovered near the console, his usual twitchy energy replaced by something more restrained. Focused. Grim.

Piper raised a brow. “Wow. Did someone finally tell you your hair isn’t naturally that shiny?”

Ray didn’t even flinch. Just looked up at her with eyes that were sharper than usual. “Sit down.”

She blinked. “Okay, rude.”

“Piper.”

That tone. The one he only used when he was worried and trying not to show it. She hadn't heard it in years—since Kid Danger's sacrifice all those years ago when he was thought to have gone down with the blimp. It tugged at something in her chest. She dropped onto the seat across from him, her sarcastic mask faltering slightly.

“The others are on their way,” Schwoz said, still not turning from the screens. “But we needed to tell you first.”

Piper glanced between them, her stomach tightening. “Tell me what? Is it Henry and the others? Did something happen?”

“No,” Ray said quickly. Then added, “Not yet.”

Before she could ask what that meant, the van’s side door slid open. Chapa climbed in first, followed by Miles, Mika, and Bose. They were in their normal clothes, but all of them moved with urgency. Tense. Alert.

Ray stood. “Everyone’s here. Good. Because we’ve got a problem.”

“Shocking,” Chapa muttered as she flopped onto the nearest seat. “This van only runs on Wi-Fi and trauma.”

“No jokes,” Ray said, which was rich coming from him.

Bose raised his hand. “Is this an intervention? Because I had a dream about a haunted kazoo last night and I really think we should circle back to that.”

“It’s not about the kazoo,” Piper said dryly.

Ray shot her a look. She gave him an exaggerated innocent smile.

He exhaled through his nose and turned back to the group. “I was in the alley behind Swellview Park earlier today. I followed a spike in energy—don’t ask me how, long story—and I found something.”

Piper's heart skipped a beat. She was at Swellview Park earlier that day with James.

“Blackout,” Mika guessed, her voice steady.

Ray nodded. “He’s here. And he’s watching us.”

There was a pause, a shared glance between the team members.

Chapa leaned forward. “You saw him?”

“No. But I heard him. He made it very clear he knows who we are. And he’s not alone.”

Miles frowned. “He said that?”

Ray nodded grimly. “He said ‘we’ve been watching.’ And then listed all your names. Like it was nothing.”

Silence.

Then Piper, quietly, “But we already knew I was a target.”

Ray’s gaze flicked to her. “Yeah. But now we know he’s not just watching you. He’s watching all of us.”

“Cool,” Piper muttered. “Love that for us.”

Ray ran a hand through his hair, and Piper’s eyes followed the motion before she could stop herself. He looked exhausted, and the way his jaw clenched told her he’d been carrying this weight alone since the alley.

“You should’ve called me sooner,” she said, quieter now.

“You were with James,” he replied. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, how polite of you,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Next time a supervillain shows up and threatens to destroy everything, maybe just shoot me a text with a little smiley face.”

Ray gave her a flat look. “Fine. Next time I’ll include a selfie.”

“With good lighting, please.”

“Piper—”

“Ray.”

Their eyes locked. Banter faded, but the air between them sparked—quiet, electric, uncertain.

Schwoz cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “If I may… I think we need to assume that if Blackout knows about all of you, he might also know where you live. Where you go to school. Who you care about.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “That’s what worries me.”

“Alright, so we’re officially on Blackout’s radar,” Mika said, her voice calm but with a sharp edge. “What do we do about it?”

Ray stood straighter, his posture stiff, like the weight of the situation had settled into his bones. “First, we lay low. No unnecessary risk. We’re going to keep our routines, but be careful. No one should be alone. Blackout knows who we are, so we can’t afford to slip up.”

“You want us to stay inside like scared little kids?” Chapa raised a brow, clearly not impressed.

“No,” Ray said, his tone firm. “But I’m not going to take chances. We wait for him to make the next move, and when he does, we’ll be ready.”

Bose looked between the group and piped up. “How do we know he’ll make a move? Maybe he’s just… lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to—”

“Bose, can we not,” Chapa interrupted, a serious glint in her eyes. “I don’t need another weird kazoo story right now.”

Piper’s gaze flicked back to Ray, noting the way his hands tightened into fists, the subtle signs of his own frustration building. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence that had begun to settle back in. But there was something about Ray—something that made the room feel small when he was this quiet.

Piper cleared her throat, her voice breaking the silence. “Well, it’s not like we’re all going to stop living our lives because of some psycho. Right?” She glanced at the group, then back at Ray. “We don’t have to be scared. We just need to stay smart.”

Ray met her eyes for a moment, a slight hesitation in his gaze before he spoke. “Exactly. Stay smart. Don’t let him catch you off guard.”

Piper leaned forward, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. “You know, you keep saying ‘we,’ but I’m kind of the main target here, remember?”

Ray’s eyes darkened for a second, his voice low. “You’re all targets, Piper. I’m not going to let him pick us off one by one. I can’t lose any of you.”

The words hung in the air, and Piper felt something stir in her chest. It wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper, something that made her wonder if Ray was holding back more information.

Ray glanced at each of them before settling on Schwoz. “Schwoz, what’s our play?”

Schwoz stepped forward, glasses perched on his forehead, fingers steepled. “First: intel. We need eyes on key locations: Swellview High, Mason and Gillis, your homes, favorite hangouts. I’ve set up three drone nets around town. They’ll ping movement patterns to my console.”

Mika raised an eyebrow. “Drones? In the middle of Swellview? Won’t people notice?”

“Not if they’re disguised as flowerpots and streetlamps!” Schwoz replied. “Camouflaged optical arrays, completely inconspicuous. Plus, I’ve coded their feeds to look like Instagram filters.”

Chapa snorted. “Leave it to you to turn a surveillance state into a social media hack.”

Schwoz bowed theatrically. “Efficiency through aesthetic appeal.”

Ray nodded. “Good. What about communications?”

Schwoz flipped a switch on his portable module. “Encrypted mesh network. Everyone gets a throwaway comm badge, no existing frequencies. Piper, you’ll have one too. If Blackout tries to jam us, these badges will hop to new channels automatically.”

Piper touched the badge clipped to her belt. “Cool... and kind of creepy.”

Bose chimed in, half-grinning. “So if I wear two badges, I can talk to myself?”

Schwoz chuckled. “Dual-channel paranoia protocol. Approved!”

Miles held up a hand. “But what about Blackout’s projection tech? He tricked Ray into thinking he was in the alley.”

Schwoz frowned, tapping his lip. “Right. I’ve been reverse-engineering the spectral trace. I suspect he’s using phased shadow emitters. Portable projectors that bounce audio off multiple surfaces. We can detect those signature echoes with a mobile spectrometer.”

He handed each team member a pocket-sized device. “Point-and-scan units. If you hear something weird, like a voice with an echo pattern, you scan. It’ll flag the location where the emitter is concealed.”

Mika tested her unit. “What about shielding? If he finds one, he could track us down.”

“Already thought of that,” Schwoz said, pulling out a small gun-shaped tool. “This is an anti-scan pulse. It emits a counter-frequency to scramble phased emitters for thirty seconds. Use it as a last resort.”

Piper looked at the Danger Force kids, then back at Schwoz's gadget. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"

Schwoz beamed. "I take the safety of my friends very seriously."

Ray gave him a quick nod, then turned back to the group. “Okay, defense isn’t just about gadgets. We need layers of protection.”

Mika chimed in, “What if we feed him false locations? Throw him off our trail?”

Schwoz’s grin was infectious. “Already in motion! Virtual beacons scattered around the city, broadcasting decoy comm signals. If he taps one, he’ll be chasing ghosts.”

Bose gave a thumbs-up. “I love ghosts.”

Miles massaged his temples. “This is a lot.”

Piper reached out and squeezed his arm. “We’ve got each other’s backs. We’ll get through this.”

Ray glanced around the van, his eyes lingering on each of them for a long beat, as if weighing their readiness. His shoulders seemed to sag for just a moment, but he quickly straightened himself.

“Alright,” he said, voice steadying, “here’s the plan. We keep a low profile. Everyone stays connected through the badges, and we’ll maintain regular check-ins. Schwoz, you’ll keep an eye on the drones and intel. The rest of us... well, we do what we do best.”

“Kick butt and look cool doing it?” Chapa asked with a grin, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

Ray gave her a brief nod. “Exactly. And Piper… you’re going to have to stay extra vigilant. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

Piper frowned. “I’m always vigilant.”

“Yeah, but now more than ever,” he said, his voice low, serious. “Blackout’s after all of us. And with your powers…” He let the sentence trail off, but it didn’t need to be said.

She felt her chest tighten, her instincts prickling. “You think he’s after me for my powers?”

“I think he’s after you because of your connection to Henry,” Ray said quietly. His gaze locked with hers. “We can’t take chances. If he can find a way to use you against us, he will.”

Piper’s mouth opened, then closed again. Her connection to Henry had always been a badge of pride—he was her brother, her hero—but now it felt like a target painted on her back.

“Okay, fine,” Piper muttered, crossing her arms. “I’ll stay alert. But I don’t want anyone treating me like I can’t handle it.”

Ray offered her a small, encouraging nod. “Fair enough."

Schwoz tapped the console with light urgency. “All right—drones are live, beacons are broadcasting, and the decoy signals are looping. Comm badges will ping every fifteen minutes. We’re as ready as we can be.”

Hours later, Piper pushed open the front door of her house and stepped inside, dropping her bag with a soft thud. The earlier tension from the Man Van still buzzed in her veins, but the familiar warmth of her parents house wrapped around like a gentle hug. Schwoz had already modified the security of the house, and it was now like an impenetrable fortress.

Schwoz followed behind her, practically skipping into the house, eyes bright as he shook off his hat.

“Home sweet Hart!” he sang, throwing his arms out dramatically. “Now fortified with fifteen layers of joy and thirty-six layers of biometric defense.”

Piper cracked a smile despite herself. "Home sweet chaos." She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her temples. "I could use something to eat—anything—before I collapse."

From around the corner, her mom's voice drifted in, light and expectant. "Dinner's almost here! I ordered from that Thai place you like." She appeared in the doorway and beamed at the pair. "How was your day, Pipes?"

Piper exchanged a glance with Schwoz. He winked as if to say, Brace yourself. She sank into the couch. "Eventful. But I'm here now, so everything's fine."

Kris's eyes danced with mischief as she set a fresh vase of flowers on the table. "Actually, I'm really glad that you're home." She reached behind her back and produced a pink glittery envelope. "I have big news."

Piper eyed the pink envelope curiously. "Please don't tell me it's another bake sale."

"Better." Kris slid the envelope across to Piper. "You're officially entered in this year's Miss Swellview pageant. Now that you're over the age of twenty, you're officially eligible to take part."

Piper blinked. "You... entered me?" Her voice pitched on each phrase.

“Yep!” Kris clapped. “I figured it’s time you showed Swellview what you’re made of—and put Jana Tetrazini in her place once and for all. I heard she’s back in town, and I knew you'd want this chance to settle the score.”

For a beat, Piper just stared at the glittery envelope. Then she tore it open like it might disappear if she hesitated. Inside, nestled in a cloud of pink tissue paper, was a glossy invitation with gold-foil lettering: Congratulations! Piper Hart — Contestant #6, Miss Swellview Pageant.

Her mouth parted slightly. “Oh my gosh…”

“Here we go,” Schwoz murmured, flopping into the armchair and immediately kicking off one boot. “Commence pageant mode.”

Piper’s eyes scanned every inch of the card. “This… this is legit. This is like, actual glitter. Not even the cheap kind!”

Kris smiled proudly. “I told them you were Cactus Queen 2018 and placed top ten in ‘Swellview’s Most Photogenic Toddler’ back in the day.”

Piper’s hands fluttered in the air like she didn’t know what to do with them. “I mean…i’s just a dumb pageant. With dumb judges. And dumb crowns.”

Kris smiled wider. “Uh huh. That’s why your eye just twitched.”

“My eye did not twitch.”

“Oh, it twitched,” Schwoz said, fanning himself dramatically. “I felt the breeze from over here.”

Piper rolled her eyes, but a grin betrayed her. “Okay, maybe there’s a tiny part of me that wants to crush Jana Tetrazini like a moldy cupcake.”

“There she is,” Kris said proudly, like a general rallying her best soldier.

“But only because she needs to be taken down a peg,” Piper added, holding up a finger. “You know she used to brag about being the ‘prettiest girl in Swellview’ for like five years straight? Even after she moved to New York?”

“She did mention that on the Christmas card,” Kris muttered darkly.

“And remember how she told everyone in eighth grade that my dress at the talent show looked like a trash bag?”

“It was a trash bag,” Schwoz said, pulling a face. “Henry helped iron it with a hair straightener, remember?”

“It was recycled chic!” Piper snapped.

Kris placed a hand over her heart. “Piper, you have more natural stage presence than anyone I’ve ever met. You were born to win this.”

“And don’t forget your rage-powered confidence!” Schwoz added helpfully. “You once yelled at a mall Santa so hard he quit mid-season and opened a smoothie bar.”

“That was one time,” Piper muttered, cheeks pink. “And he deserved it. He said Henry was his favorite Hart.”

“Shocking,” Schwoz said with mock scandal.

Piper looked down at the invitation again, her fingers curling around the card. Competitive energy prickled through her fingers like electricity. This wasn’t just a pageant—it was a showdown. A comeback. A statement.

“Fine,” she declared. “I’ll do it.”

Kris squealed, clapping her hands.

“But if I’m doing this, I’m going all out. Dress fittings. Hair appointments. Glam makeup. I’m not just showing up. I’m dominating. Miss Swellview 2025?” Piper declared, chin high, hands on her hips. “She’s already wearing the crown.”

Schwoz gave her a theatrical golf clap from the armchair. “I, for one, welcome our sparkly overlord. What will your talent be, Your Glittery Majesty?”

Piper didn’t even hesitate. “Singing.”

Both Kris and Schwoz perked up.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Kris said, clearly pleased. “You’ve got a great voice, sweetie.”

“I know,” Piper said, already flipping her hair like she’d just walked off the set of The Voice. “I mean, remember my performance at the Swellview Mall’s Winter Lights Spectacular? People thought I was lip-syncing because I sounded that good.”

“I thought that was because you made the backup dancers cry before the show,” Schwoz added.

Piper waved him off. “They were being negative! I was lifting the group up with vision.”

Schwoz raised a hand. “Totally. I believe in fear-based inspiration. It's how I trained my hummingbird army.”

Kris leaned in, excited. “What are you going to sing?”

Piper bit her lip, thinking. “It has to be something iconic. Not too poppy, not too slow, something that shows off my range and well...me.” She twirled a hand dramatically. “Something with a build. Something with power. Something that says, This isn’t the girl you pushed off the swings in second grade, Jana Tetrazini. This is the woman who’s going to leave you in a trail of rhinestones and emotional defeat.”

There was a beat.

“Maybe a ballad?” Kris suggested.

“Or a showstopper,” Schwoz offered, pulling Jake's ukulele out from under a pile of magazines. “You could go acoustic. Do a raw, stripped-down, emotionally shattering version of Wrecking Ball. But with, you know... glitter.”

Piper narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like someone who sings acoustic?”

He slowly slid the ukulele back under the magazines. “Fair.”

She stood up and started pacing the living room. “I need to rehearse,” she declared, spinning back around. “I need my ring light, my vocal warmups, a humidifier, tea with honey, a glitter microphone, and—ugh, I knew I should’ve brought my pageant heels to Swellview instead of leaving them at college!”

“I’ll start printing a vocal scale chart,” Schwoz said, already pulling out his phone. “Also, I still have that fog machine from that time Frankini put a musical curse over Swellview—if you want drama.”

“And I’ll dig up that old karaoke mic you loved when you were twelve,” Kris added. She beamed at her daughter, pride softening her features. “You’ve got this, Pipes. And no matter what happens, I’ll be front row cheering louder than anyone.”

Piper grinned. “I’ll make you proud, Mom. And I’ll do it in heels higher than Jana’s standards.”

She headed upstairs to her room and stopped halfway, her hand still on the doorknob.

Her eyes drifted toward the corner of her bedroom where a box sat half-open—inside, glittery scraps of fabric, a broken tiara, and the faded sash that once read Cactus Queen 2018. She smiled wistfully.

The smile faltered.

She could still remember the way Charlotte had stayed up for three nights straight designing that ridiculous cactus-green gown, measuring and hemming it while Piper bounced ideas off the wall and demanded "more sparkle!" every five minutes. Charlotte hadn’t even liked pageants, but she’d done it anyway because she knew how much it mattered to Piper.

“Don’t let anyone get you down,” Charlotte had said that day, adjusting the sleeves. “Remember, you earned this, Pipes. You're being crowned as Cactus Queen for a reason. So enjoy it. Own it.”

Piper blinked, throat tightening.

Charlotte would’ve loved watching her take down Jana again.

“I wish you were here,” Piper murmured under her breath.

She glanced at the framed photograph on her desk—her and Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper, all grinning in a goofy, carefree moment.

"I wish you were all here," she whispered again, her heart full of longing and quiet determination.

Ray sat at the edge of the living room sofa, fingers drumming absently against his knee as Credenza’s voice trailed on beside him. She was talking about dinner plans—something about ordering from that Thai place he’d liked in sweltering summer nights—but he barely heard her. His mind was tangled in the Man Van’s hum, the weight of Blackout’s threat pressing on his chest like a vise.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he murmured, offering a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Credenza paused, concern flickering across her face. “You barely listened,” she said softly. “You’ve been distant all evening.”

Ray forced himself to focus. “Just… something I need to take care of.” He stood, smoothing down his shirt as an excuse, and headed for the study at the end of the hall.

Inside the small, book-lined room, Ray closed the door behind him and leaned against it, heart pounding. He dug his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the contacts list before he dialed. Each ring felt like a hammer to his chest. On the third ring, a crisp click answered, followed by a measured, unhurried voice with a distinct British lilt:

“Hello?”

Ray drew in a steadying breath, his jaw setting. “Minyak,” he said, voice low and urgent, “it’s Captain Man. We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 | Dr Minyak

It was just past midnight when Ray slipped out of the house, careful not to wake Credenza. The night was cold, quiet. Still.

He drove fast, his muscle memory guiding him through a shortcut only a few knew to Mount Swellview. He wasn’t planning to stick around there. He just needed one thing.

The gum.

Tucked away in the Man's Nest since his retirement. A backup plan he hadn’t touched in years.

But when he arrived, he noticed something off.

The lights were already on.

Ray stepped out of the tube, instincts sharp. He half-expected to find Schwoz muttering over a keyboard or the Danger Force kids sneaking gossip and junk food.

Instead, he found Piper.

She sat slouched in a swivel chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring down at the floor. She looked like she’d been waiting there for a while, her presence cutting through the stillness like a sharp edge.

“Hey,” she said without looking up.

He froze mid-step. “What are you doing up here?”

His tone was calm, but the flicker of surprise betrayed him. He wasn’t used to being caught off guard.

Piper shrugged without meeting his eyes. “Couldn't sleep. Figured you couldn’t either.”

Ray moved toward the far panel, trying to appear casual, though he was already on edge. “Just came to grab something,” he said, keeping his voice low as he slid open the drawer.

His hand brushed over the familiar objects, each one a reminder of the life he’d left behind. He curled his fingers around the tube of gum, feeling the familiar weight of it. Pocketing it quickly, he didn’t want her to see.

She finally looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Ray hesitated.

Her voice was steady, but it held weight.

“You had that look earlier—in the Man Van. When we were talking about Blackout. You knew something. Still do.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. The silence between them grew thick, pulsing with the quiet hum of machinery and distant ventilation.

His gaze locked with hers, and he could see she wasn’t going to let it slide. She wasn’t going to stop until she got the truth.

He exhaled slowly, a sense of inevitability creeping in. “When Schwoz and Miles brought up the projection tech Blackout used… it jogged something in my memory,” Ray finally said, sitting on the edge of the couch, the old leather creaking beneath him. “I’d seen it before. A long time ago. One of Minyak’s old devices.”

Piper straightened in her chair. “Wait—Dr. Minyak? The creepy British guy with the baldspot?”

Ray nodded. “Yeah. Him.”

"You think Minyak's involved?"

“I don’t know,” Ray said, running a hand over his face. “But if Blackout’s here, and if Minyak had anything to do with it, then I need answers. Now.”

Piper rose from the swivel chair, her brows furrowed. “So you’re going to talk to him?”

Ray hesitated for just a beat too long. That was all she needed.

Her eyes widened. “You’re meeting him? Alone?”

Ray rubbed the back of his neck, his calm demeanor slipping for a moment. “Just for tonight. He agreed to talk, but I'll need to go as… you know.”

“Captain Man,” Piper finished, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is the first time since you retired.”

Ray nodded, his jaw set. “Yeah.”

“You’re really doing this,” she murmured, almost to herself. “You’re putting the suit back on.”

The statement hung in the air between them, the full weight of it clear in her eyes.

Ray exhaled sharply, suddenly feeling the weight of the gum in his pocket like it was made of stone. “Just for tonight,” he said quickly, as if to reassure himself. “This isn’t me ‘coming back’ or anything. I’m not trying to be Captain Man again.”

Piper didn't move, her gaze steady on him. “But you are,” she said, her voice quieter. “Even if it’s just for one night—you’re being him again.”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence said enough.

Piper studied him, her expression shifting from shock to something quieter, more complicated. “Wow.”

Ray glanced at her, expecting judgment, maybe even a lecture. But instead, he saw something else in her eyes.

Wonder.

And maybe… something like pride.

“You always said you were done,” she murmured. “You said you were tired. That Swellview didn’t need Captain Man anymore.”

“I thought it didn’t,” he said. “But if Minyak’s involved, and helping Blackout… I can’t risk sitting this one out.”

Piper’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She closed them again, the emotion behind her eyes shifting as she processed what he'd said. “You... you really care about all of this. This situation we're in."

He met her eyes, surprised by her tone. “Of course I do.”

“I mean—enough to go back,” she said, her voice light but honest. “To break your rule. That’s not nothing.”

Ray’s chest tightened a little. He’d braced for resistance. He hadn’t expected… understanding.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he said. “Didn’t want Schwoz panicking or the others asking a million questions. I just need to see what Minyak knows. Quietly.”

“And I get that,” she said, nodding. “But next time? Don’t do it quietly.” Her voice softened again. “You don’t have to go alone.”

He looked at her for a long beat.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” he admitted finally. “But… you found me.”

Piper gave a small, wry smile. “I’m nosy. It's my greatest strength.”

A pause. Not awkward. Not tense. Just real.

Then, to his surprise, Piper stepped forward, her expression resolute. “Take me with you.”

Ray blinked. “Piper—”

“I’m not asking to fight him,” she said quickly. “I’m not asking to power up or dive into danger. I just want to be there. To understand what you’re walking into. And to make sure you walk back out.”

He stared at her, torn between frustration and something else—fear, maybe. Not for himself. For her.

“You don’t understand what this could be,” he said. “Minyak is unpredictable. If he’s in deep with Blackout—”

“Then that’s exactly why I should be there.” She interjected. “You need backup. And whether you admit it or not, you trust me.”

Ray’s jaw clenched. He looked away, then back again, the fight visibly draining out of him. “You stay quiet. You follow my lead. First sign of trouble, you bail. Got it?”

Piper nodded. “Got it.”

He sighed, pulling the gum from his pocket and popping a piece into his mouth. The years may have dulled his reflexes, but the taste was the same—sharp, electric, familiar.

As he felt the familiar tingle spread through his limbs, the transformation beginning, he glanced at her.

“Let’s go find out what the hell Minyak knows.”

And with that, Captain Man was back, if only for one night.

The night air was thick with fog as Captain Man and Piper approached the derelict warehouse on the edge of Swellview. Rusted metal groaned in the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a stray cat howled like a banshee. Piper shivered but didn’t say anything.

“This feels like a trap,” she whispered, pulling her hood over her head.

She didn't bother with a disguise, expecting that Minyak would care less about who she was. Plus, he wouldn’t make the connection between her and Kid Danger, anyway.

“It’s always a trap,” Ray muttered. “Minyak never learned the art of subtlety.”

They reached the massive sliding door. Ray knocked twice—then once, then twice again.

It creaked open slowly, revealing the dim glow of old fluorescent lights buzzing to life. Inside, the place was empty—almost. In the middle of the room stood a single folding table. On it sat a steaming cup of tea. And next to it, in an oversized armchair that looked like it had been dragged in from a dumpster, sat—

“Captain Man,” Dr. Minyak said with a smirk, swirling his tea like a movie villain. “So nice of you to come.”

Ray stepped forward slowly. “Minyak.”

Minyak stood, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. "I'm guessing the retirement plan didn't pan out?" he mocked. His eyes flicked to Piper. "And who's this? Your new sidekick? A knockoff Kid Danger?"

Piper stepped forward before Ray could respond, her chin tilted defiantly. "I'm not a kid," she said coolly. "And definitely not anyone's sidekick."

Minyak blinked, visibly thrown for a second. "Hang on a minute. You look very familiar." He narrowed his eyes, then let out a low chuckle. "Ah. The former president of the Man Fans. I always figured you'd grow up to be a dental hygienist or a prison warden."

"Cute," she replied flatly. "You still look like a budget magician."

Ray’s lips twitched, holding back a grin. Minyak's face reddened, a vein almost popping out of his forehead.

He scowled and turned to Ray. "So you dragged yourself out of your retirement cave just to trade insults with me, or is there a point?"

Ray's stance shifted, his boots echoing against the cracked concrete. "I need information."

Minyak gave an exaggerated gasp. "You need me? Oh, I wish I had my phone so I could record this historic moment!"

"Cut the crap, Minyak," Ray cut in with a glare, his patience thinning. "Projection tech. Tell me all about it."

Minyak raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "Oh, you want to skip the jokes and go straight to the nerd stuff? Fine, fine." He waved a hand like it was all beneath him. "But where's the fun in that?"

He took a long, slow sip of his tea, pinky up.

Ray leaned forward. “We know someone’s using projection tech. Hard-light, highly advanced. Stuff way beyond your usual toy-of-the-week garbage.”

Minyak raised his eyebrows. “Garbage? That ‘garbage’ once made a twelve-story hologram of me that traumatized a daycare.”

“I remember,” Ray said, his voice dry. “The kids started crying when it did finger guns."

Minyak scoffed. "Philistines."

Piper folded her arms. "Is this going somewhere or are we just building your villain résumé?"

That got a chuckle from Ray while Minyak frowned.

"Fine," Minyak snapped, setting the teacup down with an aggressive clink. "You want answers? I'll give you answers."

Ray stepped closer, his voice tightening. “Where's the tech now, Minyak?”

The tension in the air thickened as Minyak’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by an expression that almost looked... hurt? Ray wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have time to care.

Minyak leaned against the rusty wall, folding his arms across his chest. “I can't tell you because I don't know. It probably is my technology, but I didn't sell it.” He spat the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Nurse Cohort stole it from me.”

Piper raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ray. “Nurse Cohort? The woman who helped you almost take over Swellview with your—” She stopped herself, clearly holding back the urge to make a snarky comment about the absurdity of it all.

Minyak threw up his hands, frustration evident in the way his shoulders stiffened. “You think I don’t know how ridiculous it sounds? A guy like me gets betrayed by her—the same person who promised me she’d stick around, that we’d take over the world together!"

His eyes narrowed, the bitterness in his voice rising. "She was my partner, my right-hand woman, and she gutted my lab and ghosted me like I was a bad Tinder date.”

Piper blinked. "You're on Tinder?"

"I was," Minyak muttered. "Got banned. Apparently, threatening to laser people's exes violates the terms of services."

Ray winced. "Wow. Even Schwoz has better boundaries."

Minyak shot him a venomous look. “If I wanted to take insults from a has-been, I’d just hang out with my reflection. But keep talking, Captain Man. I’m listening.”

Ray's mouth twitched. “So, now, instead of using it yourself, you’re letting her mess with your tech? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Minyak shot him a glare, one that burned with the intensity of someone who felt both betrayed and helpless. “That’s because I was going to use it—until she turned on me, that is. She knew my stuff better than anyone, but now? She’s gone and taken it all. I’m not even sure where it is anymore, but I swear—if I get my hands on it again, she won’t be walking anywhere.”

Piper took a cautious step forward, her curiosity piqued. "Why'd she do it?"

Minyak hesitated again, then sank into his armchair like the weight of the betrayal hit all over again. "I don't know. Power, maybe. Or maybe she got tired of being 'the sidekick'. The irony is... she said that I never gave her credit. And then she stole my work. So who's the villain now?"

Ray folded his arms. "Still you."

Minyak waved him off. "Details."

Piper stepped forward again. "So who bought the tech?"

Minyak rubbed his temples. “I don't know exactly. But I heard whispers. An organization called... Eclipse Industries. Quiet. Secretive. They don't put their name on anything, but they've been funneling tech off the black market for years. Robotics. Weapon systems. Surveillance gear. You name it."

Piper exchanged a glance with Ray. She could feel the weight of Minyak’s words settling in her chest. Eclipse Industries. She’d never heard of them, but the name felt like a dark cloud hovering over everything now.

"Never heard of them."

"That's the point," Minyak said. "They stay in the shadows. If they've got my projection tech, then they're planning something big. Bigger than anything I've tried. Bigger than giant robot heads and weaponized marching bands."

"Don't remind me about the marching bands," Ray muttered, before his gaze hardened. “What else do you know?”

Minyak gave a dry chuckle. "What, you think I’m just going to hand you all the answers, Captain Man? I’ve got my own score to settle with Nurse Cohort. But if you’re smart, you’ll use what I’ve given you. It’s your best shot at figuring out who’s pulling the strings now."

Ray narrowed his eyes. “And if we don’t?”

Minyak’s grin returned, but this time it had a dangerous edge. "Then I guess you'll be stumbling in the dark while they use my tech to make something far worse than anything I ever dreamed up."

Piper let out a slow breath, her eyes focused on Ray. She could feel the weight of their next move pressing on them. "Looks like we have a lot of people to catch up with."

Ray turned to leave, but not before giving Minyak one last look. “If you’re lying to us—”

Minyak raised a hand, cutting him off. “I’m not. But good luck, Captain Man. You’ll need it. And my advice? There's no need to chase Nurse Cohort. She was just the middle-woman. If Eclipse Industries has that tech, then Swellview's about to become a testing ground.

Piper turned to Ray, her voice lower. "I don't think he's lying."

Ray exhaled slowly. "No. He's not."

They turned to leave, but Minyak wasn't done. "You know... I always thought I'd be the one to destroy you if you ever came out of retirement, Captain Man. But now?" His voice dipped. "It won't be me. It'll be someone smarter. Someone colder. Someone who doesn't care about showing off. They'll just erase you."

Ray paused, then looked over his shoulder. "Then maybe you better hope we stop them."

Minyak gave a bitter smile. "Believe it or not... I do."

Piper hesitated at the door, her eyes scanning the dim warehouse one last time. "Hey, Minyak?"

He looked up.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "For not being completely useless tonight."

He grinned, touching his chest mockingly. "Wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in years."

Ray opened the door. "Let's go before he starts crying."

As they walked away from the dingy warehouse, the door creaking loudly behind them, Piper glanced sideways at Ray as they walked through the foggy night.

"Wait. Why did we leave him there?" she asked. "Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, turn him in to the police or something?"

Ray shrugged. "I'm retired. Plus, we’ve kind of got a... truce in place."

Piper stopped mid-step. "You have a truce with Dr. Minyak?"

Ray turned, already sipping from a juice pouch he’d apparently stashed in his pocket. "Yeah. Just before I retired actually."

Piper blinked, the wheels in her head spinning. It all made sense now—why Ray was adamant about paying Minyak a visit. He probably wanted to see if the crazy doctor had broken their truce when he suspected it was Minyak's tech Blackout was using.

“You made a truce with Minyak before you retired? Who negotiates with a supervillain before hanging up their cape?”

Ray nodded with a grin. "Long story short, without Captain Man around, he agreed to focus on his, uh, hobbies, instead of crime. It's great to know he's explored Tinder."

"Do I even want to know?" Piper muttered.

"Probably not." Ray shrugged again, tossing the empty juice pouch into the air and catching it. "Eh, we've got bigger problems than Minyak. If he ever tries anything crazy, I’ve got a whole arsenal of embarrassing pictures from his last villainous holiday party. The guy’s terrified of those showing up on the internet."

Piper laughed, the idea of Dr. Minyak trying to pretend his villainous career was serious while surrounded by a bunch of inflatable reindeer was enough to crack her composure. It was something she definitely would have held over his head, too. “You really do think of everything, huh?”

"You'd be surprised," Ray grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "And you handled Minyak like a pro."

"Yeah, well. After years of watching him monologue on livestreams, I was kind of ready."

Ray chuckled, then grew serious again. “You don’t have to do all this, you know. You could still step back. Let me and Schwoz dig into Eclipse Industries while you focus on your internship. On normal life.”

Piper shot him a look. “Seriously? After everything we just heard, that’s your takeaway?”

He gave a sheepish shrug. “Just trying to give you an out.”

“There is no out, Ray,” she said, her voice firm. “They’re coming for us. Henry, Charlotte, Jasper—this isn’t just their fight anymore. It’s mine too. Especially if my powers are tied to whatever they’re planning.”

Ray studied her for a beat, then nodded, his voice low but certain. “Okay. Then we do this together.”

Piper eyed him carefully, knowing he was holding something back. "But?"

Ray sighed, feeling cornered. He wasn’t sure how she always managed to sense when he was holding back information.

“Alright, fine. I came across a forum a couple of nights ago, when I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, leaning in slightly. “It had an article about Eclipse Industries buying out Evil Science Corp.”

Piper’s eyes widened. “Evil Science Corp... I was almost trapped in another dimension because of them. If it hadn’t been for Captain Man and Kid Danger, I’d still be stuck there.”

Ray’s expression softened, recalling the chaos of that time. “I know. That’s exactly why I’m worried. Eclipse Industries isn’t just expanding—they’re swallowing up everything, especially the things that can enhance their power. If they’ve gotten their hands on Evil Science Corp, who knows what kind of experiments they’re running now?”

Piper’s mind raced, the memories of her near-disastrous experience with Evil Science Corp flooding back. The idea that Eclipse Industries now controlled them was chilling, and the implications of what they could be doing with that power were terrifying.

“That’s not all,” Ray continued, his voice lower now. “There was another article in that same forum. About wanted fugitives in Dystopia…”

“Henry,” Piper whispered, the word heavy in the air between them.

Ray nodded grimly. “It’s all connected.”

A shiver ran down Piper’s spine as she processed everything. Her brother and friends were out there, somewhere, in danger. And now, Eclipse Industries was involved. The pieces were slowly coming together, but the bigger picture was still blurry.

“You’re right,” she said quietly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “This is bigger than we thought.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the fog curling around their footsteps. Somewhere in the distance, the city still hummed, oblivious to the threat growing in the shadows.

“So what now?” Piper asked again, softer this time.

Ray exhaled. “Now I go to Schwoz. We figure out if any of Minyak’s old schematics are traceable. You,” he paused, “go home. Seriously. You’ll be sharper after a few hours of sleep.”

“And if I can’t sleep?” she asked.

Ray smirked. “Then instead of counting sheep, think of your snarkiest insults for Nurse Cohort. We’ll probably need it.”

Piper snorted. “Already got a few.”

Ray opened his mouth to reply, but then his phone buzzed. He checked it and immediately stopped walking.

Piper’s heart jumped. “What is it?”

Ray showed her the screen. A single message from Schwoz: “We have a problem. Big one. Come to the Man's Nest. Now.”

The hairs on the back of Piper’s neck stood up.

She looked at Ray. “Please tell me this isn’t about the signal again.”

Ray didn’t answer. He was already moving, his playful swagger gone, replaced with a grim determination.

Piper followed, the exhaustion vanishing from her limbs.

They had walked into that warehouse chasing shadows.

But now?

The shadows were starting to chase back.

Fifteen minutes later, they burst into the Man's Nest. Schwoz met them at the central console, eyes wide, fingers frantically flying over the keyboard.

"Ray! Piper!" he blurted. "You're here, thank goodness!"

Ray stalked to the display. "What's going on?

Schwoz blinked. “Wait—why are you in your old Captain Man suit?”

Ray exhaled sharply. “I’ll explain later. What’s the emergency?”

Schwoz tapped a flashing panel. A live drone feed flickered onto the main screen—grainy night-vision footage of three figures scaling the perimeter fence of Swellview High. One wore a black cloak. The other two moved like professionals, outfitted in tactical gear.

“They’ve breached one of our decoy perimeters,” Schwoz said, his voice tight with concern. “And—get this—they’re cutting our beacon transmitters. If they disable enough of them, Blackout—or whoever he’s working with—can trace your real comm badge right to us. I sent Danger Force out there, but…” He swallowed, tapping a few more keys, “They’ve gone radio silent for almost an hour now. That’s when I panicked and contacted you instead.”

Piper’s stomach twisted. “Swellview High? Miles and the others go there.”

Ray’s jaw clenched as he scanned the feed, the color draining from his face. “Zoom in.”

Schwoz quickly complied. The cloaked figure pulled a device from a satchel—a handheld emitter, identical to Minyak's phased protoype, sleek and pulsing with energy.

Piper's breath caught. "That's Eclipse Industries' tech."

"Exactly," Ray said, voice low steel. "They’re not just monitoring. They’ve come for us.”

Schwoz’s eyes widened. “Eclipse Industries? What the—”

“No time to explain,” Ray cut him off. “I’ll fill you in later. How bad is it, Schwoz?”

Schwoz switched to another screen, showing schematics of the beacon system. Several nodes blinked red. “I’ve rerouted power to the remaining beacons, but they’ve already taken out two in the last thirty seconds. If they hit the main hub, we lose everything. We’ll be exposed.”

Ray's gaze snapped to Piper, his expression hard and urgent. “Stay here with Schwoz and monitor the feeds. I’m going to intercept them.”

Piper shook her head, heart pounding. “No. I’m not sitting this one out.”

“Piper—”

“I’m not asking for permission,” she interrupted, her voice firm despite the rush of adrenaline.

Ray’s expression faltered for a moment, then his face settled into grim determination. “Fine. You’re with me. But no heroics. You stick to the plan, and stay close. Understood?”

Piper nodded, already reaching for her mask and hair tie, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Schwoz, who had been nervously tapping his fingers on the console, let out a shaky breath. “I’m rerouting the last of the power. You two better hurry—before it’s too late.”

Ray exchanged a brief glance with Piper before turning on his heel, his voice low. “Let’s go.”

The streets flew by in a blur of shadow and neon as the Man Van weaved through back roads and shortcuts, tires screeching. Piper sat in the passenger seat, one hand gripping the dashboard, the other adjusting her ponytail and securing her red mask.

Ray’s eyes stayed locked on the road. “You ready for this?”

“I’m always ready,” Piper muttered, then after a beat: “Okay, like... seventy percent ready. Maybe sixty-five. But climbing.”

Ray cracked a tight smile. “Good enough.”

A green ping echoed from the dash. Ray’s expression darkened.

“Security feed just blacked out near the north end of the school. That’s where the beacon hub is.”

Piper squinted out the windshield. The looming silhouette of Swellview High crept into view, bathed in soft red emergency lights. The fence around it had been torn open—sliced clean, not forced. Precise. Surgical.

“Someone knew exactly what they were doing,” Piper murmured.

Ray threw the car into park. “Let’s find out who.”

They jumped out, Ray pulling his stun baton from his belt, Piper summoning her energy bolts to her fingertips with a low whirrr. The night air was cool and sharp, the silence unnerving.

They moved fast, slipping through the breach in the fence and sticking to the shadows. Ray gestured for Piper to keep low as he scanned ahead with a handheld thermal reader.

Three heat signatures lit up the display.

“They’re still here,” Ray whispered. “Two holding position. One near the hub.”

“Then we go now,” Piper said. Her tone was quiet, but pulsing with urgency.

They advanced along the east wall, taking cover behind a row of maintenance sheds. Suddenly—

CRACK!

The sound of short-range electricity snapping through metal.

Ray froze. “They’re powering something up.”

Piper peered around the corner—just in time to see the cloaked figure planting a new emitter directly onto the beacon hub. The device glowed with an eerie blue shimmer, beginning to phase.

“That’s a disruption beacon,” Ray whispered. “Once it activates, it’ll overload every transmitter in a mile radius.”

“And fry our signal cover,” Piper muttered. “We’re almost out of time.”

Then—

CRASH!

From the west side of the building, glass shattered. A muffled scuffle. Someone yelled—a sharp, panicked voice cut off mid-sentence.

Piper looked to Ray. “The Danger Force?”

He tapped his wrist comm. “Chapa? Mika? Anyone, come in.”

Nothing but static.

Ray cursed under his breath.

“I’ll take the cloaked one,” he said. “You handle the other two.”

Piper blinked. “You said no heroics!”

“Correction: you don’t do heroics. I invented heroics.”

Piper grinned in spite of the tension. “Fine. I’ll be semi-heroic.”

Ray gave her a look, then launched forward without another word.

One of the guards was standing around when Piper tackled him from behind, slamming him against the lockers. He grunted, tried to turn, but she summoned her powers and sent a focused energy bolt into his side—just enough to knock him out cold.

The second guard turned toward the commotion too late. Piper hurled a cafeteria tray like a discus, nailing him in the head. He stumbled, and she followed it with an energy bolt that knocked him flat.

She stood over them, chest heaving.

“See?” she muttered. “Semi-heroic.”

Suddenly—

A voice crackled into her earpiece.

“Piper! Ray’s feed just dropped! He’s not responding!” Schwoz said urgently.

Piper’s stomach dropped.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she rounded the corner, nearly skidding to a halt. The gymnasium loomed ahead—now surrounded by eerie blue light, the disruption beacon whirring ominously in the center.

Piper’s eyes scanned the chaos—each member of the Danger Force, gagged and bound, writhing against their restraints—and then she saw him.

Ray.

He was on the ground across the room, partially obscured by toppled chairs. Unconscious.

“Ray!” Piper gasped, starting toward him—

But a wall of black energy slammed down between them. A figure emerged from the shadows, hand outstretched, the grin on his masked face venomous.

“I didn’t kill him,” Blackout said with casual malice. “Yet.”

Piper froze, fury and fear clashing behind her eyes.

“You're a little late,” he continued, his voice thick with menace. “I've been waiting for you. Your little friends are all out of time.”

Piper’s hands crackled with energy, her pulse quickening as she surged forward, heart pounding in her ears. She unleashed a bolt of pure energy toward Blackout, but with a fluid, almost bored motion, he deflected it. The bolt disintegrated harmlessly into the air, leaving nothing but a lingering hiss of energy.

“No!” Piper shouted, frustration bubbling to the surface. She clenched her fists, trying to summon more power. “You’re not getting away with this!”

Blackout's lips curled into a malicious grin, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. “Not getting away? You’re already too late to stop anything.” He raised his hands as if controlling the very air itself, and the room seemed to darken with every word he spoke. “I’ll take everything from you, Piper Hart. Starting with them.”

He pointed a finger at the Danger Force members, their bodies already flickering with an ominous energy, the dark ripple of his power closing in on them. The danger was unmistakable—he was about to steal their souls.

“No!” Piper shouted again, stepping forward with all the defiance she could muster. “Not today, Blackout!”

This time, she let loose a barrage of energy bolts—faster, harder, more powerful—but Blackout raised his hand and absorbed each one. Her breath hitched. The shock was visceral.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him in disbelief. His powers... they’re the same as mine?

Blackout chuckled, an unsettling sound that reverberated through the air. “You’re starting to understand, aren’t you, Piper? You’ve always been a little too weak to control that power... but me?” He let out a dark laugh. “I was born to harness it. I’ve already taken so much from you... but I’m about to take it all.”

Piper’s eyes flared with determination. She couldn’t let him win—she wouldn’t let him win. There had to be something she could do. There’s always a way.

Her mind raced, her energy crackling with new resolve. She wouldn’t let Blackout destroy everything. Not today. Not while she still had a chance.

She stepped forward again, this time more calculated, more controlled, trying to focus every bit of her power into a single, devastating burst.

Blackout smirked, sensing the shift in her. “Come on, Piper. Let’s see if you can actually do something with that power of yours for once.”

But before Piper could strike, something unexpected happened.

A shadow moved quickly in her peripheral vision. Her pulse shot up as the figure came into view—a blur of black and red, swift and silent. Without warning, a sharp pain flared in her chest, followed by the sound of something hitting the ground. The air around her crackled and hummed, then stilled.

The figure dropped to the ground, blindfolded—dressed head to toe in black combat gear and red sneakers. Piper barely had time to register the movement before the figure launched themselves at Blackout, sending the villain stumbling backward with a forceful punch.

Blackout hissed, stumbling and releasing his hold on the Danger Force members. For a split second, Piper froze, confusion and surprise filling her chest.

“¡Cuidado!” The blindfolded figure shouted—his voice thick with urgency as he whipped a leg around and kicked Blackout hard in the side. “¡No vas a ganar hoy!”

Piper’s heart stopped.

The figure’s movements were graceful yet brutal—controlled and confident. Blackout, stunned by the sudden onslaught, stumbled backward, clearly caught off guard. The blindfolded figure gave chase, using his momentum to press the attack.

It wasn’t until the figure landed a final spinning kick that sent Blackout reeling, knocking him to the floor, that Piper realized who it was.

Her mouth went dry. Her eyes widened.

“Jas—Jasper?” Piper whispered, unable to hide her disbelief.

Jasper stood tall, his posture steady, the blindfold still tightly in place. He didn’t respond in English. He just raised a fist, ready for whatever Blackout tried next.

Blackout, clearly furious but disoriented, pushed himself to his feet and took a step back, eyes narrowing. He seemed to hesitate for the briefest of moments, as if weighing his options.

“¡No me vas a detener!” Jasper snarled in Spanish, his stance fierce as he prepared to face Blackout again.

Blackout’s eyes widened, his sneer twisting into a snarl. “You... What are you doing here?” He took a step back, as though finally realizing who it was that he was fighting.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with,” he spat.

But just as he prepared to unleash another wave of energy, Jasper lunged forward, connecting with a perfectly timed jab to Blackout’s chest that sent him stumbling back—and this time, he didn’t recover.

With a final, angry snarl, Blackout vanished in a swirl of dark energy, leaving nothing behind but a faint pulse in the air and the oppressive silence of the room.

Piper’s heart was still racing, her mind spinning as she processed everything that had just happened. She looked from Jasper—who was still standing, breathing heavily and scanning the room—to the bound and gagged Danger Force kids, to a still very unconscious Ray.

She opened her mouth, but the words stuck.

Jasper took a deep breath, pulling his blindfold off with a fluid motion, his eyes now sharp and focused.

“Piper," Jasper breathed. "I—I know this is probably really weird,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady, “but we really need to get out of here. Now.”

Piper, still in shock, stood frozen, chest heaving. His eyes—clear, familiar, and impossibly real—met hers.

Her vision blurred. “You—” Her voice cracked, raw with disbelief. “You’re alive.”

Before Jasper could answer, she was across the room. She threw her arms around him, gripping tight like she might break if she let go. He caught her with a small grunt, wrapping his arms around her just as fiercely.

“I thought you were gone,” she choked into his shoulder. “I thought you were all gone.”

“I know,” Jasper said quietly, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have a choice.”

Piper pulled back just enough to look at him. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you—”

“Long story,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But right now, we need to move. The kids—Ray—we’re not safe here.”

Piper nodded, blinking fast to clear her eyes. “Right. Right," she said. "Let’s get them out of here.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 | Retirement arc CANCELLED

The familiar pop of Miles's teleportation hit like a flashbang behind Piper's eyes. The world lurched and twisted, then solidified with a hard thud.

They landed in a tangled heap on the Man's Nest floor, the cold surface beneath them a sharp contrast to the lingering dread of Swellview High. Piper coughed, blinking hard as the light adjusted around them.

Schwoz was already sprinting toward them from the main console. "You're back! Are you—?" He skidded to a stop, his eyes locking onto one figure among the group.

"Jasper?"

Jasper gave a tired wave as he dragged Ray's limp body toward the couch. "Hey, buddy."

"JASPER!" Schwoz shrieked, launching forward. He slammed into Jasper with a fully-body hug that nearly bowled them both over—knocking Ray clean out of Jasper's arms in the process. The former superhero's body rolled off the couch cushion and hit the floor with a dull thunk.

Piper flinched. It was a good thing he was indestructible.

“I thought you were captured! Or your soul got eaten! Or you were captured and your soul got eaten!” Schwoz clung to him tighter. “I’ve had nightmares involving soup, Blackout with a ladle, and you screaming!”

Jasper winced but laughed. “I missed you too, Schwoz.”

Mika gave Jasper a wary but grateful nod. “You saved us back there. That was amazing but also… kinda weird.”

Jasper shrugged. “I’ve been doing a lot of weird stuff lately.”

Chapa pointed at his blindfold, which was hanging out of his pocket. “That ‘weird stuff’ includes sleep-fighting in Spanish, by the way.”

“I thought he was possessed,” Bose whispered loudly. “Like… by a dramatic ghost.”

Jasper chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah. Just muscle memory, I guess. I’ve had to sleep-fight a lot lately.”

That quieted everyone.

Piper glanced at him sharply. “Why?”

Before he could answer, a low groan rose from the floor. Ray stirred where he’d faceplanted on the floor, muttering something incoherent as he rolled onto his side.

Schwoz scrambled to his side. “He’s waking up! Everybody back up. Give him room.”

Ray cracked one eye open dramatically. “Did… did I just get thrown through a wall again?”

“You got Blackout-ed,” Miles said, crouching beside him. “But you’re o-kay!”

Ray’s brows furrowed as he sat up slowly. “Danger Force… Piper… wait—” His eyes widened when he spotted the other member of their group. “Jasper?”

“Hey, man,” Jasper said casually, as if they hadn’t just teleported from a soul-sucking showdown. “You look awful.”

Ray stared for a long beat. “Did I hit my head way harder than I thought?”

"Probably," Chapa shrugged. "But he really is here. You're not imagining things."

Ray blinked hard and slowly pushed himself upright, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, so… Jasper’s back, I didn’t die, and Danger Force isn’t soulless. That’s good. That’s—yeah. Good.”

Piper stepped forward, her expression tight with questions. “Jasper… where are they? Henry and Charlotte? Are they with you?”

The room fell quiet. Even Schwoz, who had been hovering anxiously over Ray, looked up.

Jasper’s easy demeanor dimmed. He glanced at Piper, then at the rest of the room. “They were,” he said quietly. “For a while.”

Piper’s breath hitched. “What happened?”

“We were hiding together. Moving constantly—trying to stay ahead of the bad guys.” Jasper’s voice had a rasp to it now, less casual. More worn. “We knew we were being hunted. Blackout has more reach than we thought. Charlotte figured it out first. Said he had people everywhere.”

Ray frowned. “He always did.”

“There was a trap,” Jasper continued. “We got separated during an ambush. I lost them in the chaos. We had a fallback plan. If they made it out, they’d lay low. But I haven’t been able to confirm it.”

Mika’s voice cracked. “So, they’re still out there?”

Jasper nodded. “And they’re still fighting. You know Henry—he doesn’t give up. Charlotte either.”

Piper looked away, jaw tight. The familiar pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She had hoped… maybe foolishly… that when she found Jasper, the others would follow. That her brother, and their childhood friend, would walk through the door with him. But now…

“They could still be alive,” Schwoz said quickly, voice more hopeful than certain. “There’s a chance! If they’re laying low, it makes sense that they’d cut contact. Blackout could trace a signal.”

“They’re alive,” Jasper said firmly. “I’d know if they weren’t.”

He paused, then added quietly, “Since losing them, I’ve been trailing Blackout… trying to figure out his next move. I followed him back here—to Swellview. He’s hunting something powerful, something in the city. A power source, maybe. I’m not sure yet, but whatever it is, it’s important enough for him to come all this way.”

Ray gave a heavy sigh, settling back on the couch as the weight of it all returned. “Then we find them. We regroup. And we hit Eclipse back.”

Jasper perked up at the mention of Eclipse Industries. "You've figured out the connection then. That's good," he said with a sad smile.

Schwoz stared between Ray and Jasper, confusion evident on his face. “What connection?” He turned to Piper. “You mentioned that name before you and Ray went on the mission to Swellview High. But you didn’t tell me all of it.”

Piper exchanged a glance with Ray, and he gave a small nod.

“We talked to someone,” she said, quietly.

Ray groaned as he shifted, sitting straighter on the couch. “Someone terrible.”

Chapa narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

Ray hesitated. Then, flatly, he said, “Dr. Minyak.”

“What?” Danger Force said in unison—Mika nearly jumped to her feet, and Chapa’s hair sparked with electricity.

“You willingly talked to Dr. Minyak?” Bose asked, wide-eyed. “Like… in person? Not hologram? Not behind thick glass? With mouth sounds and everything?”

“It wasn’t exactly on my bucket list,” Piper muttered.

"Yes," Ray said with a sigh, glancing at his superhero friends. "That's why I'm back in uniform."

He pulled at the collar of his suit, clearly uncomfortable. The gold emblem gleamed under the overhead lights, but the old weight of it seemed heavier than before.

"I was wondering about that," Bose said, looking Ray up and down in his Captain Man attire.

Piper took a steadying breath. “Minyak recognized Blackout’s projection tech. He admitted Nurse Cohort stole it from him—and sold it to Eclipse Industries. They’re the ones funding Blackout, supplying him with Minyak's stolen inventions.”

Miles stared, mouth agape. “I'm still trying to process how you sat down with the guy who literally tried to laser us all to dust that one time.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “Only to find out who’s really helping Blackout. Minyak has no love for Eclipse—he wants his tech back, and he pointed us straight to them.”

Mika’s eyes darted between Ray and Piper. “So that’s what you two were doing while we were trying to deal with Blackout at Swellview High?”

“Exactly,” Ray said, looking down at his Captain Man emblem. “I needed the uniform to talk to him. Minyak only fears Captain Man.”

Schwoz opened his mouth, then closed it, blinking several times. “You—you had a tête-à-tête with a supervillain so you could learn about an even bigger one?”

Piper managed a small, rueful smile. “Well, when you put it like that.”

Bose rubbed his temples. “Man, that’s… that’s bold. And crazy. And… kind of awesome?”

Ray gave a tired half-grin. “Let’s just hope it wasn’t stupid.”

Schwoz leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Well, you two are definitely in deep now. But if Eclipse is buying up Evil Science Corp and backing Blackout, then we’ve got a target. And thanks to Minyak, we know where to start looking.”

Jasper rubbed his temples. "Henry was on to them. That's why they were after us. Henry and Charlotte and I spent months dodging their operatives. Most of them don’t even wear uniforms—it’s all suits, fake names, clean trails. But they’re everywhere.”

Piper glanced at Ray—he was already watching her, quietly. They both knew the danger had only just begun.

"You mentioned a power source," Schwoz cut in, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "What kind of power source is Blackout after?"

Jasper hesitated, then said quietly, “I don’t know exactly. But it’s something big—something that could change the whole game. Blackout’s been hunting it for a while, and I followed him back here to Swellview because I think it’s here. Whatever it is, it’s important enough to Eclipse and Blackout that they’re willing to risk everything for it.”

Miles frowned. “Could it be some kind of weapon?”

“Maybe. I'm not sure yet," he said with uncertainty.

Just then, the soft hum of the teleport tubes heralded three more arrivals. Piper looked up as Credenza emerged first, her leather jacket still dusted with the night’s chill. Behind her, Buddy stumbled out, eyes wide at the sight of Jasper. Drex followed, dragging his boots and muttering under his breath.

Ray sat up straighter the moment he saw them.

Credenza’s brow immediately furrowed as she took in the scene—Ray in full Captain Man attire, while the rest of them, Jasper, Piper, Schwoz, and the Danger Force were clustered around the main console.

“What in Swellview happened here?” she demanded, her voice steady but edged with concern.

"Have you seen the news?" Drex asked, turning to Ray. "It's breaking."

Ray peeled off his gloves with a weary sigh. “No. We’ve had a very busy night.”

Credenza didn’t wait for elaboration. She marched over to the monitor and turned on the TV with a determined jab of the remote. “Then you need to see this.”

She fumbled for the volume and cranked it up. The familiar jingle of KLVY Swellview News played, and then—

“Ugh,” Piper muttered. “Here we go.”

Mary Gaperman filled the screen, posture rigid, voice sharp with theatrical urgency. “2AM breaking news: chaos at Swellview High. Janitors were evacuated after an apparent attack by an unknown assailant—described by witnesses as ‘shadowy,’ ‘inhuman,’ and, in one case, ‘like a demon made of TV static.’”

“Okay, that last one’s not wrong,” Bose said softly.

Trent Overunder leaned dramatically toward the camera, eyes wide with glee. “And in a shocking twist—Captain Man was spotted on the scene! You heard me, folks! Swellview’s very own indestructible hero is apparently not so retired after all!”

Ray groaned. “Please don’t say it with that much excitement.”

Chapa glanced at him, stifling a grin. “Could’ve been worse. He could’ve said ‘washed-up.’”

Mary, gleeful now, continued, “No confirmation yet from the Department of Retired Heroes, but the footage speaks for itself.”

The screen cut to shaky, blurry cell phone footage. A janitor screamed as the shadowy figure moved through the smoke-filled hallways. And there—clearer than Piper would’ve liked—was Ray, in full Captain Man uniform, throwing punches like it was 2014.

“Boom,” Trent whispered dramatically. “There he is. That’s definitely Captain Man! Look at the jawline! The hair! The righteous fury!”

Buddy clutched Drex’s arm. “He does have good hair.”

Ray buried his face in one hand.

Mary, meanwhile, looked ready to combust. “Eyewitnesses also report four colorful, masked heroes on-site. While identities remain unconfirmed, speculation is high that Swellview’s current Danger Force was assisting in the operation.”

“Oh, great,” Chapa muttered. “We're ‘colorful heroes' now.”

“I was wearing yellow,” Miles admitted.

“I wore blue,” Bose added, nodding proudly. “Because it brings out my—”

“Shh!” Schwoz hissed.

Trent was still going. “Could this be the return of Swellview’s once-famous crime-fighting team? Or something more mysterious?”

Mary threw up her hands like a magician about to reveal a dove. “A comeback! A reunion! A nostalgia tour!”

“Why is she yelling like that?” Drex asked, squinting at the screen.

Trent ignored her, pressing on. “Police have not yet commented. Mayor Shay was seen entering City Hall just moments ago—possibly for an emergency meeting. Or maybe just her weekly cheese board summit. We’ll update you as the story develops.”

Mary nodded gravely. “Something’s happening in Swellview. The air feels… dramatic. The stakes feel high. My hair stylist told me the moon looked suspiciously egg-shaped this evening.”

Trent blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Mary didn’t flinch. “I trust her with my follicles. I trust her with the truth.”

The broadcast cut to a graphic splashed across the screen in bold red letters: “CAPTAIN MAN RETURNS?”

Silence fell in the Man's Nest.

Ray slowly rubbed his face. “Great. I’m officially out of retirement because some janitor with a TikTok caught my left side.”

Bose raised a hand. “To be fair, it’s a very strong side.”

Ray gave him a look. “You’re not helping.”

Schwoz was already pacing, eyes darting back and forth as he muttered calculations under his breath. “This is very, very bad. If Eclipse sees this, they’ll know Captain Man is officially back in the game. They’ll start moving—fast.”

“They already are,” Jasper muttered, arms folded tight across his chest. “They had to have anticipated Ray's involvement.”

Credenza’s jaw tightened. She stood with her arms folded, gaze fixed on the screen, but her voice was sharp. “So you didn’t think to mention you were putting the suit back on? Not even a heads up?” Her eyes flicked to Ray.

Ray blinked, caught off guard. “I didn’t plan this. I went to talk to Minyak in the suit, but things escalated, and—before I knew it—I was fighting crime again. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Credenza’s arms tightened. “You’re my boyfriend, Ray. We’re supposed to be a team. I’m supposed to know when you’re in danger.” The hurt in her voice was real—and directed at Ray.

Ray took a slow breath. “I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you until I had something solid. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly — it just... forced my hand.”

Her eyes softened, and her stance relaxed just a bit. “You should’ve trusted me.”

“I do trust you,” Ray said quietly. “That’s why I’m telling you now.”

She let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Okay. I’m scared, but I get it. You had to do what you had to do.”

Piper watched the exchange, feeling a little relief flood through her chest. It wasn’t just about the news or the fight — it was about keeping the people they cared about close, especially when things got dangerous.

Mika frowned, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s not the fact that Captain Man is back that’s the problem. In fact… we may need him. But the timing, the exposure—it changes our margin for error.”

Piper’s fingers curled slightly. Her powers prickled beneath her skin, a reaction she was still learning to manage. “So what now? We can’t undo it. The whole city’s talking.”

Schwoz let out a frustrated grunt and flopped a tablet onto the console. “I’m already seeing three trending hashtags: ‘#CaptainManReturns,’ ‘#OutOfRetirement,’ and—why do people do this—‘#DaddyMan.’”

Ray stared at him. “What?”

“I wouldn't look it up,” Piper muttered, as she avoided eye contact.

Buddy, scrolling through his phone, whistled low. “Oof. There’s already a meme of Ray punching that shadow-thing with the caption: ‘Retirement arc CANCELLED.’”

Ray groaned and leaned his forehead against the nearest surface. “I hate the internet. And janitors. And my own face.”

“You love your face,” Miles deadpanned.

“You're right,” Ray mumbled.

Credenza rested a hand on his shoulder, her voice lower now. “Ray... I know this wasn’t how you wanted it to go. But maybe it’s not the worst thing that people know Captain Man’s still out there. He’s not back for the glory... he’s back for us—the city.”

Ray looked up at her, the fight leaving his shoulders for a second. “You think the city’ll see it that way?”

Credenza shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You didn’t do this for them. You did it because you had to. And you’re not doing it alone.”

Ray gave her a quiet, grateful nod.

Piper waved her phone. “Well, we’ll have to act like it was on purpose now. Control the narrative, as the influencers say. Maybe I can leak a statement as president of the Man Fans.”

Schwoz turned sharply. “No! No more leaks! Every time someone leaks something, we get sued, slimed, or accidentally invited to a teen awards show.”

“I meant a controlled leak,” Piper said with a sigh. “Like... a story post. Something simple and vague."

Buddy perked up. “Oooh, with a dramatic slow zoom on Captain Man's face in the shadows. And a remix of a superhero theme.”

“I’m vetoing all of that,” Ray said flatly.

Drex smirked. “Honestly? Might go viral."

Ray groaned. “No one is filming my face. Or remixing my life. This isn’t a comeback tour. I just—” He stopped, exasperated, and let his hands fall to his sides. “I just wanted to protect the people I care about.”

Everyone went quiet for a beat.

Piper lowered her phone slightly. “That’s why I’m scared,” she admitted. “Because it kind of feels like you came out of retirement for me.”

Ray turned to her, surprised. “Piper—”

“No, it’s okay,” she said quickly. “I just... I don’t want you to feel like you have to put the suit back on because of me. Or Henry. Or anyone.”

Ray hesitated, then crossed over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t do it because of you, Piper. I did it with you in mind. There’s a difference.”

Her eyes met his. The weight behind them wasn’t lost on her.

“We’re all in this now,” Schwoz said, glancing between the two. “No more solo acts. Not with Eclipse out there."

Piper looked away, her chest tight with unspoken resolve. This was their fight, yes — but part of it, the part that had started with her, still needed answers. And she knew she had to find them herself.

Piper checked her watch. It was almost 3AM, and she had her internship in a few hours. She groaned under her breath as she walked the distance back to her car. The twins, Jasper, and Schwoz were with her.

“So where are you staying now that you’re back?” Miles asked Jasper.

Jasper scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Uh, well... I was hoping Piper and her family would let me crash with them.”

Piper stared at him, trying to hide how happy the idea of him staying with her family made her. She snapped back into sarcasm before anyone could see it. “Oh great. Yeah, sure. Let’s just turn my house into the Hart Hotel. We’ve already got Schwoz in our residence, why not toss in a second grown man who'll eat all our cereal and do bucket yoga in the living room."

Jasper beamed, unfazed by her sarcasm. “Aww, you missed me.”

“I miss silence,” she lied, rolling her eyes fast enough to disguise the smile threatening her mouth. “And boundaries.”

Schwoz crossed his arms from the corner. “For the record, I have been a very respectful guest. I only do my particle acceleration experiments between 2 and 4 AM, and I clean up after my pet lava duck.”

Piper shot him a look. “You used my mom’s bullet blender to make plutonium soup.”

“She said I could borrow it!”

Jasper perked up. “Well, if Schwoz is already staying at yours, then I’ll just take Henry’s room.”

Schwoz spun around, scandalized. “Excuse me? That room is occupied.”

“By me!” Jasper countered. “I’m his best friend. Best friend outranks weird tenant with a lava duck.”

“I have seniority! I’ve been there for weeks and reorganized the closet into a neutron-safe lab!”

"Well, I'll reorganize it better! And I'll add my vintage bucket collection in there for old time's sake!"

Piper threw up her hands. “Oh my gosh, Henry’s room is not a timeshare!”

Behind them, Ray strolled up with a protein bar, clearly having heard the tail end. “Wow. So everyone’s crashing at the Hart house now? Cool, cool. No big deal. I only saved the world with all of you. Repeatedly.”

Jasper shrugged. “You can come too, if you’re willing to sleep in the crawl space.”

Schwoz nodded solemnly. “I already tested it for mold. Only 10% coverage.”

Ray gave them both a look. “That’s... comforting.”

Piper groaned. “Okay, no. No more grown men in my house. This isn’t summer camp for emotionally stunted adults.”

Schwoz pointed at Jasper. “He started it.”

“I just want to sleep in my best friend's bed,” Jasper protested. "Is that too much to ask for?"

“And I wanted a normal life,” Piper snapped. “Yet here we are.”

Miles nudged Mika. “Ten bucks says she kicks all of them out by Friday.”

Mika smirked. “You’re on."

Ray tossed his protein bar wrapper into the trash and sighed dramatically. "No one wants to stay at my house? Where I actually have extra rooms with no mold, but sure, let's all pile into the Hart Hotel."

Schwoz and Jasper exchanged glances while Piper rolled her eyes.

Miles and Mika snickered at his jealousy from a few steps away. “Bye, Ray!” Miles called as they teleported into the night with a pop.

Ray gave one last mock pout and jogged off toward his car. “Fine! Enjoy your weird sleepover.”

Piper shook her head, pulling her keys out. “Let’s go before anyone else invites themselves around."

They piled into her car—Piper driving, Schwoz fiddling with his tablet, and Jasper leaning back in the passenger seat.

Later, at the Hart house, the front door opened to Jake and Kris sitting at the kitchen table, still awake.

“Schwoz!” Jake jumped up so fast his chair nearly toppled. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!”

Kris set down her mug, eyes wide. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? We saw the news!”

Piper stepped inside, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver? I’m your child, not him!”

Schwoz shuffled awkwardly. “Well, I am a member of this household...”

Jak waved his hand dismissively. “Piper, we know you can handle yourself. But Schwoz... he's just so fragile.”

Schwoz nodded solemnly. "It's true."

"Hey Mr. Hart. Mrs. Hart," Jasper cut in, unsure of himself. "It's been a while."

Jake blinked at Jasper as though he’d just spotted Bigfoot in the living room. “Jasper? Is that really you?”

Kris pulled him in to a hug. "Oh, Jasper. It's so good to see you!"

Piper threw up her hands. “Seriously? He gets a hug? I almost got blown up tonight!”

Jake gave her a look. “Piper, we can hug you anytime. But it's been a while since we've seen Jasper and he's like a long-lost… um…son.”

“Who used to clog our sink with bucket rinse water,” Kris added warmly, still hugging him. “Oh, Jasper. Have you been eating enough? You look thin.”

“It's all the missions,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a surprisingly good cardio program.”

Schwoz narrowed his eyes, heading for the stairs. “You better not be angling for Henry’s room.”

“He’s definitely angling for Henry’s room,” Piper muttered, collapsing onto the empty kitchen chair.

“I called dibs!” Jasper shot back, following him.

“No you did not! There were no dibs!” Schwoz yelled over his shoulder. “Only seniority!”

Jake sighed as the two disappeared upstairs. “At least we're not empty nesters anymore," he told Kris.

Kris smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s nice having the house feel alive again… even if it means more noise at 3 AM.”

"So... about the news," Jake began, looking at Piper. "Is it true—is Ray out of retirement?"

Piper sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, Dad. It’s true. Ray put the suit back on tonight.”

Jake leaned forward, concern softening his features. “But why? After everything—why now?”

"It's... complicated," Piper said.

Kris and Jake exchanged glances.

"Is that why Jasper's back?" Kris asked sharply.

"Partly," Piper answered, trying to be as evasive as she could. She didn't want her parents knowing the full story. That would only make them worry more.

Jake scoffed. "I'm surprised he didn't call Henry instead. We all know who the superior hero is," he said proudly.

She forced a laugh, keeping her tone light. “He’s, um, on a special assignment. Top secret. Can’t talk about it.”

Kris reached over and squeezed Piper’s arm. “Well, whatever’s happening, you all know what you’re doing. Just promise us you’ll be careful.”

Piper nodded, hugging them both quickly. “Promise.” She glanced at the clock. “I’d better get some sleep. Big day at the internship.”

As she slipped away to her room, Piper closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. Outside, her parents exchanged proud smiles—completely unaware of the truth hiding just beneath the surface. And in that quiet moment, Piper vowed she’d protect them from the storm raging in Swellview… even if it meant carrying the secrets alone.

Hours later, at Mason & Gillis, Piper sat at her desk, dark circles under her eyes and her third cup of coffee clutched like a lifeline. Her fingers hovered uselessly over her keyboard. She blinked once. Did that comma always look that smug?

A file landed in front of her with a thud.

She didn't need to look up. "You again."

Logan slid into the chair opposite her, unbothered and smug as ever. "Good morning to you too, Hart. I hope your attitude is better than your report writing skills today."

She glared at him. "Are you seriously here to nitpick my punctuation?"

"No," he said, flipping open the file. "I'm here to fix your section of Miss. Shapen's case before it gets laughed out of court."

Piper ground her teeth. "You're welcome to try. I only wrote that section an hour ago, after a really long night."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Ah. That would explain the excessive use of commas and the words 'emotional trauma'".

She yanked the file back. "I stand by what I wrote. She cried for twelve uninterrupted minutes about a single wilted rose he gave her in 2021. I’m just trying to capture the trauma."

"It's inadmissible."

They sat in mutual silence for a beat, the air between them sharp enough to cut paper. Logan began scribbling notes in the margins while Piper forced herself to stop imagining him falling down an elevator shaft.

He didn't look up as he said, "If we don't get this cleaned up, Miss. Shapen's going to lose on procedural grounds alone. You do know what procedural means, right?"

Piper shot him a tight smile. "You do know you're not as clever as you think, right?"

"Probably. But unfortunately for you, I am as correct as I think."

She rolled her eyes and leaned over the file, her pen tapping against the margin. "Fine. What would you change?"

He pointed to a section she'd written about damages. "You can't claim emotional distress and slander in the same breath unless you separate them legally. Right now. it's just... dramatic."

Piper sighed. "Miss. Shapen is dramatic."

"Sure," Logan said, shrugging. "But the court doesn't care that her ex wore matching outfits with his new girlfriend at Medieval Times. Unless he served her with divorce papers via joust, we can't use that paragraph."

She exhaled through her nose. "Fine." She crossed out two whole lines with a little more force than necessary. "What about the part where he drained their joint savings to pay for a tattoo of her sister's name?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Now that's relevant."

"Exactly," Piper said smugly. "Intentional financial harm. Poor judgement. Plus the name thing gives us a moral sympathy angle—judges love a messy sibling subplot."

He tilted his head, impressed. "Well, well. Look who's finally thinking like a lawyer."

"I always have," she said, twirling her pen between her fingers. "You were too busy editing my commas to notice."

He smirked. "Touché."

They fell into a rhythm, pens scratching across paper, red ink blooming in the margins like war wounds. It was strangely collaborative, if you ignored the passive-aggressive commentary and occasional scoffs.

Every so often, Piper caught him watching her—not smug, not amused. Just quietly... watching. Which she ignored. Hard. Whatever that look was, she didn't have time to unpack it. Or care.

She had more important things to do.

The break room hummed with the mundane sounds of lunch hour—paper bags crinkling, forks scraping against plastic containers, the quiet chatter of interns pretending to enjoy their microwave meals. Piper sat at her usual table, the sad, unwrapped sandwich before her untouched.

Her thoughts were elsewhere, far beyond the panini that had been hastily thrown together. The scene from earlier that morning kept looping in her mind—the weird feeling in the air when they talked about Eclipse Industries. The strange way Ray had mentioned it, the urgent look in Jasper’s eyes. The puzzle pieces didn’t add up, but she had a feeling she was standing too close to the edge to just back off.

She needed answers. Real answers.

Piper glanced over at Krisha, who was busy chewing on something suspiciously green. It smelled… alarming. But that wasn’t important right now. What mattered was the file room—locked and off-limits to interns like her. She had no idea why, but she had a gut feeling that Mason & Gillis, as a powerful law firm, had some sort of connection to something bigger than they let on. The question was, how to get in without anyone noticing?

Piper leaned back in her chair, pretending to be absorbed in a set of client notes, but her mind was already mapping out the next step. She needed a distraction—a big one.

And Krisha was just the person to create it.

She stood up slowly and walked over to the table Krisha sat, keeping her tone casual. “Hey, Krisha.”

Krisha looked up from her questionable wrap, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What’s up?”

“I need a favor,” Piper said with an exaggerated shrug. “Something big. Something… distracting.”

Krisha’s eyes lit up, the way they always did when Piper confided in her. “Oh? What’s the plan? Puppet show? Pretend to faint and steal someone’s lunch?”

Piper rolled her eyes but grinned. “Close. I need you to distract Logan, the other interns, and anyone else who might be lurking around the breakroom or hallway. You know the drill. I’ve got to get into the file room.”

Krisha’s mouth dropped open. “The file room? You’re crazy! That’s like… high-level stuff. We’re not even supposed to—”

“I know. But they won’t even notice if you keep them busy. I just need ten minutes.”

Krisha didn’t hesitate. “Okay, okay, what’s in it for me?”

Piper narrowed her eyes, giving her a half-smirk. “A month’s supply of that fermented garlic hummus you love.”

Krisha gasped. “A whole month! You are my hero.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Piper said with a dry laugh. “But you do the work, and I’ll secure the hummus for you.”

Krisha clapped her hands in delight and hopped to her feet. “You got it! I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” She gave Piper a playful salute. “Operation Distraction is a go!”

Piper watched as Krisha made her way toward the center of the break room, already setting her plan into motion. Piper didn’t wait around. She grabbed her water bottle and moved slowly toward the door, pretending to casually check her phone as she kept an eye on Krisha.

Krisha, now standing on a chair with an absurdly dramatic posture, cleared her throat loudly. “Alright, everyone! Time for an emergency icebreaker!”

Logan blinked, clearly confused. “Krisha, what are you—?”

“Everyone,” she continued with unshakable enthusiasm, “has two minutes to share the weirdest family tradition they’ve ever had or face losing all coffee privileges for the rest of the week. HR mandates it! Probably.”

A few interns in the back groaned.

“Krisha, seriously,” Logan muttered.

“Go on, Preston!” Krisha persisted, turning to one of the other interns. “You’re up first. Weirdest family tradition! Spill it!”

“Uh… we, uh, have a pinecone-naming ceremony every December 18th,” Preston muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

“That’s amazing!” Krisha shouted, clapping her hands. “Now, who’s next? Come on, Logan, don't be shy! What’s the weirdest thing your family does? Hiding chickens in the basement? Wearing hats at dinner? I’m sure there’s something!”

The interns laughed and murmured amongst themselves, entertained by Krisha’s antics, while Logan stood there, visibly agitated.

Piper took her cue, slipping quietly from the room as Krisha began her next absurd question.

She made her way down the hall, keeping her steps light and fast. The hallway was empty, the office doors on either side locked. No one would bother her, at least not for a few minutes. As she reached the door to the file room, her heart raced slightly, though she kept her cool.

With a quick glance at the direction she came from, she gripped the handle of the door, pulling it open. To her surprise, and relief, it was already unlocked, and she stepped inside before anyone could hear.

The file room was just as sterile as she’d imagined: walls of filing cabinets, a small desk tucked in the corner, and papers scattered across the table like a scene straight out of a thriller. Piper immediately got to work, pulling open drawers one after the other.

She started with the obvious choice: Mason & Gillis’ client list. She skimmed through the files, flipping past names she didn’t recognize. Nothing stood out. Nothing about Eclipse Industries.

But then she paused. A file labelled 'Evil Science Corp' caught her eye.

Her pulse quickened as she pulled it out. The name echoed in her brain. This file was probably created before Eclipse Industries bought them out.

She flipped it open, scanning the pages.

It was more than a handful of legal documents. There were mentions of patents, research papers, and briefings on high-level intellectual property.

With shaky hands, she snapped as many pictures of the file as she could. She even managed to secure the address to Bill Evil's residence, the former CEO of Evil Science Corp.

Her heart hammered in her chest; this was the kind of lead she’d been searching for. She slid her phone into her pocket and turned back to the file, rifling through the pages more quickly now, eyes darting across patent numbers and references to “Phase-Shift Weaponization” and “Neuro-Energetic Catalysis.” Every line felt like another layer of the conspiracy she was untangling.

Suddenly, the soft click of the door handle jolted Piper upright.

Her breath caught mid-gasp.

In a heartbeat, she shoved the Evil Science Corp folder back into its drawer, shutting it as quietly as possible, and ducked behind a cabinet, crouching low. Her phone was still clutched tightly in one hand, her other pressed to the cold floor to steady herself.

The door creaked open—slowly, deliberately.

Piper’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure it echoed off the filing cabinets. She stayed perfectly still, eyes wide as she stared at the narrow gap between the cabinet and the floor.

Heavy footsteps crossed the threshold. Not fast. Not rushed. But calm. Like whoever it was knew exactly where they were going.

There was no voice. No phone call. Just silence and that slow, deliberate movement. Whoever it was didn’t even bother to flip on the lights.

She saw the shadow move, long and sharp against the floor. A figure. Male? Maybe. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was the stride was confident, like they owned the place.

Piper’s pulse roared in her ears. She clutched her phone tight, ready to snap a picture—if she could peek without being seen. But she didn’t dare risk it. She could hear the person moving with careful purpose, like they already knew what they were looking for.

A drawer opened. The drawer she had just shut.

Silence.

Then a long pause.

The file.

Piper’s eyes widened.

She wanted to jump out, to stop them—but she wasn’t stupid. Whoever this was didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t some lost intern or bored paralegal. This was someone who came prepared.

After a moment, the footsteps moved back toward the door. Another pause, like they were listening for someone in the hall. Then, the door clicked shut.

She counted to ten.

Then twenty.

Only when her lungs burned did she finally suck in a full breath and crawl out from behind the cabinet. She ran straight to the drawer and yanked it open.

Gone. The file was gone.

Her chest clenched. Her fingers hovered in the space where the folder had just been. Whoever that was… they’d taken it. Right from under her.

She opened her phone, fingers shaking slightly as she flipped through the photos she’d taken. She still had them. A few pages. Bill Evil’s address. Some keywords. But no hard copy, no hard proof she could show anyone without sounding like a lunatic.

Someone else knew about the folder. Someone who didn’t want it found.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and closed the drawer once more. The moment had passed, but something had changed.

This wasn’t just about curiosity anymore. It was a warning.

And Piper knew she had just stepped into something big.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 | Two Kings

Ray sat at a corner table in Downtown Brown, slowly stirring a dollop of whipped cream into his extra-strong triple-shot caramel macchiato like it held the answers to his existential crisis.

He sighed loudly. A few heads turned. He ignored them, turning his sigh into a deeper, more theatrical exhale, then slouched dramatically in his chair.

“I retired,” he muttered to the foam. “I had the speech. I had the balloons. I had the banner—‘Congratulations Ray!’—and the cake shaped like my own face.” He frowned. “That was a good cake.”

The foam in his drink had started to collapse, which somehow felt metaphorical. He poked it half-heartedly with his spoon.

He should’ve been happy. He had Credenza. He had Buddy. He had a weirdly stable life for someone whose previous activities once involved catching a mutant raccoon in an active volcano. This was what normal people did. They drank overpriced coffee and wore cargo pants and said things like “vibe check.”

So why did it feel like he was crawling out of his skin?

“I mean, Henry and Charlotte are out there running from some evil lab coats straight out of a horror film. Jasper reappears with like, a tragic looking blindfold, and more secrets than usual. And Piper—” He paused. “Piper explodes a vending machine with her brain and says 'it was the soda's fault.’

He scoffed, glancing toward the counter. Some barista with a knitted beanie and a bored expression raised an eyebrow at him.

Ray narrowed his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Trevor. I’m having a moral crisis.”

Trevor raised both eyebrows. “You’re having it loudly.”

Ray groaned, pushed from the table as if to leave—then collapsed back, coffee sloshing. “Do you know what it’s like to watch the people you love—yes, love, don’t make a face, Trevor—throw themselves into danger because they think they have to prove something? To see a spark of power in their eyes and know it could either save them or destroy them?”

He sat up slowly, suddenly serious. “I can’t let any of them become a cautionary tale. Not while I’m still breathing. Not when I can still fight.”

Outside, thunder cracked in the distance, which Ray was pretty sure wasn’t symbolic but kind of felt like it should be.

Once the brief indignation faded, Ray deflated again. Because the truth was, he had retired for a reason. He wanted to be someone Credenza and Buddy could count on. Someone who could go to brunch without bringing a grappling hook. Someone who didn’t constantly smell faintly of explosion.

Except… he wasn’t wired that way.

He didn’t want to run back into danger. But when people he loved were in trouble—when Piper looked scared, when Jasper said 'Blackout' like it was a curse word, when Henry’s last message to him showed signs of distress—how was he supposed to sit still?

He let his head fall back against the wall with a soft thunk.

“Maybe I’m just bad at retirement,” he sighed. “Or maybe the universe just refuses to let me rest because I’m too… heroically handsome.”

He rubbed his face, suddenly serious. “I just hope Credenza understands. I didn't lie. I just... hoped we could be safe forever. But forever never lasts long in this business.”

Outside, the wind picked up. Ray looked out the window and saw his reflection—faint, but unmistakable. Not quite Captain Man. Not quite just Ray.

Somewhere in between.

He stood slowly, left a tip that was probably more than the coffee cost, and pulled on his jacket with the kind of unnecessary dramatic flourish only he could manage.

“If I’m gonna do this,” he muttered, “I’m doing it my way. With style.”

And just before he walked out, he paused, turned back to Trevor the Barista, and added, “Tell no one you saw me get emotional.”

Trevor blinked. “Dude, I wasn’t even listening.”

“Good. That’s the correct answer.”

Jasper balanced a pincushion on his wrist like he was in the world’s weirdest wristwatch commercial. “Okay,” he announced dramatically to no one, “I was born for this.”

“You were born to help tailor a pageant dress?” Marla asked, tightening her ponytail and raising a skeptical eyebrow as she knelt beside Piper’s foot, adjusting a hem with surgeon-level precision.

“No, but I was born with excellent fine motor skills,” Jasper said proudly, holding up a pin. It immediately slipped from his fingers and pricked Piper in the thigh.

“Ow! Jasper!” Piper jerked upright on the little stool they had set up in the middle of the living room.

Okay, that was on him. “Sorry, Piper!”

She shot him a glare so sharp he almost ducked. “Do it again and I’ll make you wear this dress.”

“I mean—if it gets me a sash and crown, I’m not not open to it,” he shrugged.

She looked like she was deciding between murder and laughter.

Jasper tried to stay focused on the hem, but his brain was drifting again—like it always did these days. There was something surreal about all of this. Piper Hart. Pageant queen. With powers. With enemies. With secrets. And somehow, still yelling at him over bent pins like the city wasn’t one weird step away from imploding.

It was strangely comforting.

Marla tried not to smile. “Piper, breathe. He’s trying.”

“He’s Jasper,” Piper snapped. “Trying implies a baseline of competence. He even called my dress a shimmery ankle trap.”

“It is!” Jasper exclaimed, poking at the fabric again. “I tripped over it twice. This thing’s a hazard.”

“You’re a hazard!” she snapped, just as he fumbled another pin and jabbed her hip. “Ah! That’s it! One more poke and I’m setting you on fire with my brain.”

He held up both hands like a man negotiating for his life. “Okay! Okay! I’ll aim better. No fire necessary.”

Marla calmly handed him another pin. “Maybe aim… not at her skin this time?”

He tried. Really. But his hands weren’t cooperating. Or maybe his brain wasn’t. Because every time he looked at Piper—dressed in her sparkly gown, somehow balancing stress with sarcasm—he couldn’t stop thinking: How did we even get here?

From their ridiculous childhoods to now. Henry and Charlotte were missing. Ray officially out of retirement. And the bad guys after them all. Everything felt like it had changed overnight. But somehow, Piper was still here. Still sharp-tongued, still terrifying, still kind of a best friend and little sister, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

And maybe that’s why he was here. Pretending to know anything about dresses and accidentally jabbing her with pins. Because if she could hold it together with everything going wrong, then maybe he could too. And that gave him comfort.

Piper shifted on the stool with a groan. “This is what I get for livestreaming myself laughing at the town’s seamstress when her designs got roasted on Swellview’s Next Top Model. Now I’m stuck with you.”

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, carefully slipping a pin into the hem, miraculously without bloodshed. “Some people would thank their friends for helping them become Miss Swellview.”

“I am thanking you,” Piper snapped. “Just not verbally. Or with my face.”

“Sounds about right,” Marla said under her breath, smiling. She excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Jasper alone with Piper.

He grinned despite himself. Piper caught this, and said, “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Only because it’s the first time since I've been back that you’re acting like your usual terrifying self again.”

Piper blinked at that. Just for a second, something in her expression shifted, like she hadn’t realized how not-like-herself she’d been lately.

“I mean it,” he added, quieter now. “You’ve been… dealing with a lot. I know you don’t talk about it. But I see it. And I just—look, I don’t know how to fix everything. But I’m here, okay?"

Piper opened her mouth, then closed it. She gave him that half-smile, part gratitude, part fierce. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered.

The hem of her dress shimmered under the living room light. Jasper glanced at it, then at her. She was quiet. Maybe thinking. Maybe not.

Then the doorbell rang.

Jasper opened the door, and instantly two familiar voices shouted, “Jasper!”

Oliver lunged forward with open arms while Sidney went for a fist bump and somehow they both ended up clumsily slapping his shoulder.

“Whoa—hi!” Jasper laughed, stumbling back under their combined enthusiasm.

“Dude! You still have the same face!” Sidney added, like that was a rare achievement.

“Thanks… I think?” Jasper stepped aside. “Come on in. Piper’s mid-glare, so you’re right on time.”

Oliver and Sidney bounded in like puppies off leash. They hadn’t changed much—maybe taller, maybe marginally more coordinated—but still unmistakably them.

Sidney paused mid-step when he saw Piper on the stool in her pageant dress. “Whoa. Madam President. You look fancy.”

"Like a sparkly assassin," Oliver chimed in. "But in a good way."

Piper rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement beneath it. "What are you two doing here?"

“We came to see you, duh,” Oliver said, flopping onto the arm of the couch like he lived there.

“And also—have you seen the news?” Sidney added, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Captain Man is back! He’s officially un-retired!”

Jasper watched as Piper held a breath.

"I'm aware, yes," she said finally.

Oliver and Sidney exchanged a look—half giddy, half permission granted.

“Then you know what this means,” Oliver declared, practically bouncing on the couch arm.

Sidney spread his arms dramatically. “It’s time to bring back the Man Fans!”

“No,” Piper said flatly.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Piper sighed, exchanging a glance with Jasper. He raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to hear them out.

“We're serious, Piper!” Sidney pleaded. “Captain Man's back! Even though we already have the Danger Force, Swellview will be safer. So we should honor him!"

Oliver whipped out a crumpled flyer mock-up from his pocket. “We already started redesigning the Man Fans logo. This time it's tasteful. No more comic sans.”

“And no more legally ambiguous stalking,” Sidney added, raising a hand like he was swearing an oath. “We’re older. Wiser. And our backs ache.”

Piper sighed. "What about your sock business?"

Sidney perked up. “We still have Sock Stars! But it’s mostly passive income now. We license our designs to a distributor in Ypsilanti.”

Oliver nodded solemnly. “My cousin, Krisha, handles the contracts. We only get sued, like, once every two weeks."

"Of course she does," Piper muttered.

“And now that we’ve got some money,” Sidney added, “we can invest in what really matters: honoring our hero with dignity, devotion, and—”

“—limited-edition enamel pins,” Oliver finished, pulling another flyer from his back pocket. This one was glittery and clearly coffee-stained. “We’re working on a commemorative set. ‘The Comeback Collection.’ Think: Captain Man mid-punch, with windswept hair.”

Piper blinked. “You guys made retirement merch and comeback merch?”

“We like to be prepared,” Oliver said with a shrug.

“Also, the retirement ones didn’t sell,” Sidney admitted. “Turns out no one wants a Captain Man mug that says ‘Gone But Not Forgotten (But Mostly Gone).’”

Jasper made a strangled sound which turned into a cough.

Piper rubbed her temples. “Look. I’m flattered you’re asking permission this time—growth or whatever—but the Man Fans were a thing of the past. We've all moved on. I have a life now."

Just then, Marla reappeared, pausing in the doorway when she saw the two new arrivals. “I leave the room for five minutes and it turns into a Man Fans summit?”

“Marla, good,” Piper said quickly, catching her best friend up on what she missed. “A voice of reason. Please.”

But Marla only smirked. “Actually, I admire their commitment. Most people our age are busy pretending to understand NFTs or spiraling. At least they picked a healthier coping mechanism.”

Sidney perked up. “Exactly! We’re just channeling nostalgia into something productive.”

Oliver leaned forward like he was about to drop a TED Talk. “Plus, Captain Man deserves better than being seen as a washed-up relic. If he’s coming back, we should remind Swellview why they looked up to him in the first place.”

That last line hung in the air longer than expected.

Jasper, who'd been quietly watching Piper for her reaction, finally spoke, his tone calm but resolute. "They're right."

She glanced at him.

Jasper didn't look away. "He kept this city together longer than anyone ever asked him to. Took hits, made enemies, gave up things. He didn’t just fight villains—he carried the whole weight of being Captain Man when nobody else could.”

He paused. “That should count for something.”

The room quieted.

Even Oliver and Sidney, who were usually one joke away from falling off furniture, quieted. Piper didn’t blink, but Jasper saw it: the tightness in her jaw. The way her arms folded just a little tighter across her chest.

She’d heard him.

Jasper’s voice dropped. “And I think… I think he needs to hear that. Especially now.”

Piper didn’t respond right away. But she felt it.

The guilt. The knowledge that Ray had un-retired not for the city, but for her. To protect her. And she’d let him.

She looked away, blinking hard.

Jasper gave a small, knowing smile. “You don’t have to join. But don’t pretend he didn’t make a difference. And don’t pretend like that doesn’t matter to you, Piper.”

Silence.

Then finally—reluctantly—she muttered, “Fine. We can reform the fan club. But no glitter. No drones. And absolutely no interpretive dance tributes. I mean it, Oliver.”

Oliver, already halfway into a shoulder shimmy, froze. “Define ‘interpretive.’”

Piper just glared.

Sidney beamed. “This is going to be so tastefully reverent.”

The wooden chessboard sat between them, the knock of moving pieces echoing in the quiet Man’s Nest. Mika leaned forward, tapping her chin with the base of a pawn. Schwoz barely looked at the board. He already knew the moves. What interested him was how she moved her pieces.

“You always open aggressive,” he said, nudging his bishop into a position that baited her knight.

Mika narrowed her eyes. “That’s because I don’t like waiting for trouble. I’d rather meet it head-on.”

Schwoz smirked. “Yes. You play like Chapa. Predictable. Powerful. Reckless.”

Mika raised a brow but didn’t argue. She sacrificed her knight to take his bishop.

“Reckless doesn’t mean wrong,” she said. “Sometimes it works.”

“Sometimes,” Schwoz murmured, staring past the board to the monitor behind Mika. It flickered briefly—camera feed from a mission Miles, Bose and Chapa went to handle without Mika, who stayed behind due to a sore throat.

He looked back at the game. “But we are not playing checkers. We are in a chess match now. And I am afraid we are several moves behind.”

Mika followed his gaze. “You think we’re losing?”

“I think,” Schwoz said, moving his queen with a faint click, “we do not yet know what game Eclipse is playing. That’s worse.”

Silence stretched between them.

“You’re thinking of Henry,” Mika said.

“No,” Schwoz said automatically. Then, “Yes. But not just him.”

He turned one of the pawns between his fingers. “Do you know why I like chess?

“Because it lets you control something?”

He smiled. “Because it teaches you who is who.”

He pointed at the queen. “That is Piper. Unpredictable. Powerful. Moves anywhere, and when she’s on the board—everyone else moves differently.”

“Okay,” Mika said, leaning in with interest.

He tapped a knight. “Ray. Never moves in a straight line. He crashes through things sideways. He fights with his heart, not his head. It makes him dangerous. But also… limited.”

Mika tilted her head. “And us?”

“You are the rooks,” he said. “Solid. Young. Still learning. But when you move together, with purpose, you change the whole game.”

“And you?” Mika asked, voice softer.

Schwoz looked at his bishops. “I am the weird friend who sees things from strange angles. Bishop, I guess.”

She smiled faintly. “And Jasper?”

“The other bishop. He hides his insight behind jokes, but he cuts across the board in his own way.”

Mika leaned back, studying the board thoughtfully. “So what’s Charlotte?”

Schwoz’s eyes softened. He picked up a pawn, held it briefly, then set it aside.

“She started as a pawn, much like Jasper did,” he said quietly. “Smart, underestimated, always watching. But she made it across the board. She earned her crown. In any other game… she’d be the queen.”

Mika blinked. “But Piper’s the queen now?”

“Ja,” Schwoz said. “This game… it’s different. We’re not playing the same board anymore.”

He tapped the biggest piece, the king, gently between his fingers. “Henry and Charlotte—they’re both kings. They don’t need to move much, but if either one falls... the whole game ends.”

Mika’s eyes widened. “Both kings?”

Schwoz nodded. “Yes. Two pillars holding up everything we’re fighting for. Lose one, and everything collapses.”

He set the king down gently and leaned forward, fingers steepled as he regarded Mika with that familiar mix of curiosity and quiet urgency.

“The next move,” he began, voice low, “is not one we expected to see so soon. Ray stepping back into the game—coming out of retirement—that’s a big shift.”

Mika nodded slowly. “He’s like a knight suddenly jumping back onto the board, right?”

“Exactly,” Schwoz said. “Knights don’t move straight. They’re tricky, unpredictable. Ray’s return isn’t just a move on the board; it’s a statement. It changes how the enemy plays.”

He glanced toward the monitors again, where the rest of the Danger Force members moved along the streets of Swellview, a flurry of youthful energy and potential. “Ray’s presence will push the whole team to adapt. It forces Eclipse to rethink their strategy.”

Mika’s eyes flickered with understanding. “So, Ray’s not the king, but he’s just as crucial. Like a piece that can save the king if played right.”

Schwoz smiled, pleased. “Exactly. He’s the catalyst. But a knight alone can’t win a game. He needs the queen, the rooks, the bishops all moving in harmony.”

He tapped the queen again—Piper. “Her power is growing, but without guidance and support, even the queen can be vulnerable."

Mika’s gaze returned to the board, tracing possible moves in her mind. “So if Ray’s back, and Piper’s power is rising, then… what’s Eclipse’s next move? What do we prepare for?”

Schwoz’s smile faded just a little. “That, Mika, is what we need to figure out before it’s too late.”

Piper’s heel clicked against the pavement as she stepped out of the Hart household and into the chill of a moonless night. The air smelled of damp earth and distant gasoline fumes—too quiet for comfort. She glanced at her phone. 8:17 PM. An unnerving calm pressed in around her.

A black sedan pulled up alongside the driveway. Its windows were tinted so dark she couldn’t see inside. The passenger door opened, and James stepped out, collar turned up against the wind.

“Hey, babe,” he said, voice low and warm, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Running off on me already? I thought we had dinner plans.”

Piper paused beneath a flickering streetlamp, her breath blooming in small clouds. She slipped her phone into her pocket and met his gaze with an apologetic grin. “I'm so sorry. I completely forgot! But this client meeting—I can't miss it.”

James took a step closer, the gravel crunching under his polished shoes. “At this hour? Alone?” His eyes searched hers, concerned but playful.

She shrugged, trying to keep her tone light. “Yeah, just me. It won’t take long.”

He shook his head, the smile softening into something more serious. “You’re impossible.” He held out a hand. “Let me drive you. You know I worry.”

Piper hesitated, the night pressing in around them, but she couldn’t resist the familiar comfort in his presence. She glanced toward her car, then back at him. “Alright,” she said, voice low, “one ride, and then you’re off the hook.”

James’s grin returned as he offered his arm. “Deal.”

They slid into the sedan. The door thudded shut, and the interior light blinked out, sealing them in with the darkness. The soft glow of the dashboard painted James’s face in thin lines of gold and shadow.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asked, eyes fixed on the road.

Piper stared out at the shadows racing by. Her heart hammered beneath her ribs. “Yeah,” she said, forcing a calmness she didn’t quite feel. “Just… work stuff.”

James reached over, brushing her hand with his thumb. “If you need me, anytime, you know where to find me.”

She gave his hand a quick squeeze, grateful and wary all at once. “I know.”

As they drove deeper into the night, streetlights thinned and darkness closed in, Piper felt the uneasy certainty that this was going to be more than she expected. Up ahead, the high, wrought-iron gates of Bill Evil’s mansion came into view—tall, foreboding, half-hidden in creeping ivy.

James pulled to a stop a good distance from the entrance, turning off the headlights so only the moonless sky bore witness to her departure.

He turned toward her, his eyes soft but cautious. “Here. I’ll wait for you right here.”

She nodded, slipping her door open and stepping into the chill night. “Thanks, James. I won’t be long.”

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I hope it goes well with your client.”

The door shut softly behind her as she crossed the driveway. Her knock echoed — firm, deliberate — against the heavy wooden door.

But there was no response.

Piper raised her fist and knocked again, harder. The wind rattled the ivy-clad walls like warning whispers.

The door creaked open a fraction, revealing Bill Evil’s hollow-eyed stare. He peered past her into the darkness, as if expecting armed guards hiding just out of sight. “Who—who are you?” he rasped.

She stepped forward, voice calm but firm. “Dr. Evil? My name is Piper. I’m not here to cause trouble. I—I need your help.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed further, filled with panic and distrust. “Piper… that name means nothing to me. Get off my property.”

She swallowed against the cold. “I’m not here for—” She stopped, searching for the right words. “I’m here because I think you’re the only one who can tell me what’s really going on.”

Bill's eyes narrowed. He pulled the door tighter, a sliver of darkness sealing them off from the night. “I don’t help strangers,” he snapped, voice brittle. “Especially ones who show up unannounced.”

Piper forced herself to stay calm, each breath a silent count. “I know. I’m sorry. But you’re my only lead."

His panic intensified. He glanced back into the inky blackness behind her, shoulders trembling. “You don’t understand—they're watching. Dark suits. Unmarked cars. I see them everywhere. They've taken everything."

Her heart thudded. This was her chance. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Who’s after you?”

Bill staggered back inside, slamming the door halfway shut. A cascade of locks snapped into place—deadbolts, chains—each one a desperate barrier. Through the slit, Piper saw his shoulders hunch as if bearing an invisible weight.

“Eclipse,” he hissed, voice almost lost in the darkness. “They’ve taken it all. My work. My lab. My people. Now they want me gone."

Piper pressed closer to the door, heart pounding. “Then we’re on the same side. That’s why I’m here. They’ve wrecked my life, too. I need to know how far they’ve spread. Help me stop them.”

There was a long silence. Then, slowly, the locks clicked in reverse and the door groaned open. Bill's eyes glowed with urgent fear. “Come in,” he said, voice hollow. “But one wrong move—”

“I won’t,” Piper whispered as she crossed the threshold. The door slammed behind her, sealing her into the shadowed foyer.

Inside, the air was colder. Thick with dust and static. The wind moaned through cracked eaves overhead, and the low hum of machinery pulsed beneath the floor like a distant heartbeat.

Every portrait seemed to watch her. Every wall seemed to listen.

Bill’s footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway, the walls lined with peeling wallpaper and faded photographs of long-forgotten inventions. She followed closely, senses alert to every creak and whisper.

At the end of the hall, Bill pushed open another heavy door, revealing his private study. Monitors flickered in the half-darkness, casting jittery shadows across a tangle of wires and half-assembled gadgets. A low hum—perhaps a cooling fan or hidden generator—resonated through the floorboards.

Piper stepped inside, every nerve on alert. “This is where you’ve been hiding?”

He closed the door behind her and engaged two more locks. “My sanctuary,” he said, voice rough. He motioned toward a battered leather chair and a small desk cluttered with encrypted data drives. “Sit.”

Piper obeyed, eyes scanning the room. A battered oscilloscope flickered in one corner, its screen dancing with irregular spikes. On the desk lay a ring of digital keycards, each tagged with ominous code names: 'Project Eclipse,' 'Soul Matrix.'

Bill flipped through a stack of schematics. “This is what they’ve been building,” he whispered, sliding a sheet across to her. “A neural override that doesn’t just control machines—it can hijack people."

Her blood ran cold. "What does that mean?"

"Imagine soldiers, heroes, anyone… turned at a flick of a switch.” He said, his hands trembling as he rolled the schematic toward her.

“They’ve been cataloging every experiment, every prototype I ever designed. They reverse-engineered my fail-safes and then improved on them. Look here…” Bill tapped a brittle line on the paper, voice barely more than a rasp. “This node can override neural pathways using targeted electromagnetic pulses. It’s the apex of my life’s work—and now it’s theirs.”

Piper leaned in, her breath hitching at the clinical precision of it. “They can trigger it remotely?”

He swallowed hard, eyes darting to the darkened corner as if expecting the device itself to spring to life. “Anywhere. Anyone. And they’ve tested it. There are files—videos even—of entire security teams turned on their own leaders. It’s… monstrous.”

The screens behind them blinked, each displaying a different feed: lab corridors gone silent, security cameras looping empty hallways, a log of encrypted transmissions timestamped and redacted.

Piper’s pulse hammered. “So this isn’t a threat. It’s already begun.”

Bill’s lips quivered. “They’ve embedded the override into the city’s infrastructure—power grids, comms networks, even traffic lights. One command and the whole city becomes their army.” He pressed a trembling finger against the schematic’s red zone. “This is the central hub. If they activate it, no one is safe.”

Piper’s stomach knotted. The weight of it pressed against her chest. “How do we stop it?”

Bill’s shoulders sagged, despair etching deep lines across his face. “I destroyed the master key,” he said. “Or thought I did. But they’re rebuilding it. I’ve been hiding. Running out of time.”

Her eyes fell on another file.

“Blackout Protocol,” she repeated, eyes narrowing as she traced the faded label with her fingertip. “As in… the supervillain Blackout?”

Bill froze. For a heartbeat, even the machines seemed to hush.

He turned to her slowly, the glow of the monitors painting sickly shadows across his face. “You know that name?”

Piper met his gaze. "He's after us. Me and my friends. My brother too."

Bill’s expression twisted, panic and regret warring across his face. His voice dropped to a thin, ragged whisper. “Then you’re in more danger than you know.”

A gust rattled the old windows. Shadows seemed to breathe along the ceiling as the blue light from the monitors flickered. Bill clutched a trembling hand to his chest, the outline of his ribs visible beneath his threadbare shirt.

“He was my creation,” he said again, voice barely more than a breath. “My first attempt at stabilizing neural augmentation. I thought I could use pain to sharpen the mind. I thought if I pushed far enough, I could turn a man into a weapon we could aim.”

His voice cracked. “I didn’t know the weapon would aim itself.”

Piper swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still even as every instinct screamed at her to leave the room. “What was his name?” she asked. “Before he became… that.”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t remember. Maybe I never knew. Eclipse erased everything. Back then, we were just cogs in a larger experiment—compartments. Silence. Need-to-know. But I remember his eyes.” He looked up at her, hollow. “He looked like he’d already died. The override didn’t break him. It gave him purpose.”

Piper clenched her jaw. “He ambushed my brother. Nearly killed him. He’s watching us. He knows who we are.”

Bill gave a bitter laugh. “Then it’s already too late. If he’s tracking you, you won’t see him coming until it’s done. That’s how he works. He doesn’t just show up—he waits. He lets you feel safe.”

A silence fell between them, pulsing like a warning.

“He’s worse than Eclipse,” Bill murmured. “Because Eclipse wants control. Blackout wants chaos. He enjoys watching people turn on each other. He’ll infect your team from the inside. Break trust. Twist the strongest one until they think they’re the threat.”

Piper’s stomach turned. She thought of the Danger Force. Schwoz. Jasper.

She thought of Ray.

Bill leaned closer, eyes wild, whisper sharp as wire. “Don’t try to outsmart him. Don’t try to bait him. If you’re lucky, you’ll only see his shadow.”

Silence stretched, the only sound the dull hum beneath their feet. Piper closed her eyes for a heartbeat, gathering herself. When she opened them, they were steeled with determination.

“Then we don’t have time. I need everything you have—every file, every schematic, every proof. I know someone who can crack this,” she said, thinking of Schwoz.

Bill looked regretful, his gaze darting to the security feeds as if expecting ghosts. “There was someone else, you know. Before you.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Came in the night. Said the city was in danger. He… he knew things. Things I’d never told a soul. I gave him everything I had—every backup, every proof, every fail-safe. He said he’d keep it safe. Said he’d be in touch.”

Piper’s heart hammered. “Who was he?”

Bill’s eyes flicked restlessly around the room. “Tall. Blond, I think. He had a friend with him—a young woman. She was sharp. Quiet, but she saw everything. I remember thinking she looked like she could take on the world.”

Piper’s throat went dry. “How long ago was this?”

Bill’s gaze sharpened, like he was seeing a calendar only he could read. “Six months. Maybe a little more. Haven’t heard from them since.”

For a second, Piper’s mind raced. But there was no way…

The silence between them stretched. The implication hung in the air, thick as the dust in the lamplight. Bill’s expression was haunted, as if afraid even this memory might be used against him.

“I’m running out of time,” he said, voice breaking. “So are you. If you find them—if you find what I gave them—it’s the only way.”

"You'll be okay," she said, forcing hope into her voice. "Captain Man is back. He'll help us stop them."

Bill stared. A long moment passed. Then he blinked. "You... you said your name was Piper?"

She nodded. "Piper Hart."

A beat. Something cracked behind his eyes—recognition, horror, maybe something close to guilt.

“I’ve heard that name before,” he said, voice thin and brittle.

“We’ve met,” Piper said quietly. “Years ago. I ended up in another dimension—because of your portal tech. If it weren’t for Captain Man and Kid Danger, I’d still be there.”

Bill’s lips parted. His voice cracked with something old and wounded. “I thought it was stable. I never meant…”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, her words a balm in the haunted dark. “I forgive you.”

For a second, Bill looked like a man surfacing after a long time underwater—eyes shining, relief and grief tangled together.

“No one’s said that to me,” he whispered, “since everything fell apart.”

Piper nodded. “Maybe you messed up. But you’re trying to make it right now. That counts.”

"Thank you."

As she rose, he pulled a tattered curtain over the nearest monitor, as if hiding from eyes that weren’t there—but might be, then abruptly snapped, “Wait—did you come alone?”

Piper stiffened. The chill of his suspicion cut through the stale air like a knife. “Yeah,” she said after the briefest pause. “I came alone.”

Bill’s gaze sharpened, parsing her tone for any tremor, any lie. “You’re sure no one followed you?”

“No one followed me,” she said evenly, forcing her pulse to settle. “I’m careful.”

He let the silence stretch, tension crackling in the air between them. Then he turned on his heel and muttered, “You’d better be. They see things before they happen sometimes. They get in your head. You trust the wrong person—and that’s it. You’re done.”

Piper hesitated at the threshold of the hallway. “What are you saying?”

Bill looked back at her, his eyes two dark pits of paranoia and weary warning. “I’m saying trust no one. Not the people who smile too easily. Not the ones who say they’re protecting you. Especially not the ones who show up when it’s convenient.” His voice dropped to a rasp. “If Eclipse thinks you matter—they’ll use someone close to break you.”

Piper’s jaw tightened. “Let them try.”

The rain had picked up again, a thin mist clinging to the windshield by the time Piper climbed back into James’s car. The door shut with a dull thunk, and for a second, all she could hear was the hum of the engine and her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

James glanced at her from behind the wheel. “Well,” he said, voice easy, eyes unreadable in the faint dashboard glow. “You’re not screaming, so I take it your mystery client didn’t turn out to be a serial killer.”

Piper stared straight ahead for a moment. “He was… worse, actually,” she murmured. “He was sane enough to sound crazy.”

James chuckled. “That sounds like a riddle.”

She didn’t laugh. Her fingers pressed into her knees, white-knuckled. Bill’s words echoed louder now that she was safely away: “Trust no one. Especially not the ones who show up when it’s convenient.”

“I’m guessing he gave you something,” James continued, turning the car back onto the road. “Or at least scared you enough to make this trip feel worthwhile?”

Piper hesitated. “He gave me a headache.”

Another smile from James, brief and smooth. “You get those a lot when you hang around conspiracy theorists.”

She stayed silent as the streetlights warped into amber streaks across the windshield. Her stomach clenched—Bill’s eyes, frantic behind that tiny crack of doorway, haunted her.

James drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied automatically.

But even she wasn’t sure. Her body felt electric, like she could sprint a mile, or collapse in a heap. Was it adrenaline? Or just everything finally catching up?

He glanced at her again, slower this time. “Because you’re doing that thing with your jaw. Like you’re holding in a scream.”

She swallowed hard. “I just need to think.”

He nodded. “Thinking’s good.”

But she wasn’t even sure her thoughts were hers anymore. Everything felt detached—too calm, too quiet. Like she was watching herself from outside her own body.

They drove on in companionable silence for a while. Piper leaned her head against the cold glass, willing the tension in her shoulders to ease. She thought about James—how he’d slid into the driver’s seat without question, how he’d offered her comfort instead of prying answers out of her.

He was her safe space.

She drew a slow breath and let Bill’s words fade. She’d known James two years now—trusted him with her heart, her fears, her failures. No way was she in danger with him by her side.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16 | Fisher V Shapen

The walls of the Mayor’s press room were lined with patriotic bunting and a huge, overly glossy banner that read:

WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN MAN!

Bright lights bounced off the podium. A dozen reporters sat elbow-to-elbow, adjusting mics and tapping away on phones. Camera flashes sparked like fireflies.

Ray stood behind the curtain, flicking a stray hair back into place. The Danger Force kids—geared up and chattering amongst themselves—hovered at his side. They looked confident. Understandable. They were used to the spotlight. He hadn’t faced this crowd in years.

He exhaled slowly.

From the podium, the Mayor beamed into the mic. “Citizens of Swellview, it is my great honor to welcome back our city’s greatest hero—Captain Man!”

Applause erupted. An overzealous intern waved a CLAP NOW sign.

Ray stepped out, smiling wide and crowd-ready. Cameras flashed. The heat of it hit him instantly.

He scanned the audience. Jasper gave a subtle thumbs-up. Schwoz was filming. Buddy waved both hands. Credenza blew him a kiss. Drex smirked like the devil from behind a baseball cap and sunglasses, doing a terrible job of looking inconspicuous.

Ray adjusted the mic.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s… good to be back.”

Another round of polite applause. The intern wiggled the sign again. Chapa side-eyed them like she was considering combustion.

Ray took a breath.

“When I retired, I really thought it would stick. I believed I could hang up the suit. I wanted to live like a regular guy. The kind who wears socks that match and has a yard to mow.”

More laughter, a few camera shutters clicking in rhythm.

“But here’s the thing about heroes—when the city calls, we answer. When people are scared, we stand up. And when things go quiet… too quiet… that’s usually when someone needs saving.”

His smile faded just slightly.

“I didn’t come back for glory. I didn’t come back because I missed the spotlight. I came back because danger never really retires. And neither do the people willing to fight it.”

Behind him, the Danger Force stood straighter. Even Bose looked focused.

“I know some people were disappointed when I stepped away. I get that now. Being Captain Man isn’t just about catching bad guys. It’s about being a constant. A symbol. A reason not to give up.”

He gripped the podium.

“But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A pause. The silence held like a breath, then applause broke again, this time louder, more genuine.

The Mayor stepped forward. “We’ll now take questions. Please raise your hand.”

Hands flew up.

A reporter in a mustard-yellow blazer, with the world’s most committed blowout, stood up first. She didn’t wait to be called. “Captain Man! Darla Fincher, Swellview Sun. Welcome back, obviously. Any truth to the rumor you came out of retirement because the city’s hero insurance premiums skyrocketed without you?”

Ray blinked. "Crime rates and insurance rates have one thing in common, Darla—they skyrocket the second I’m not around. I’m obviously here to keep everyone’s deductibles reasonable," he said dryly.

There was a low chuckle from the room. Drex even snorted.

“And,” Ray added with a conspiratorial whisper, “they revoked my hero discount at the coffee shop. Couldn’t have that.”

Next, a bespectacled reporter stood. “John B, Swellview Action News. With Danger Force back in action, are you the coach—or will we see you in the field?”

Ray glanced at his team. “Think of me as Swellview’s safety net. They handle ninety percent of the work. I deal with the ten percent that tries to explode.”

Mika cut in, “And sometimes we stop him from exploding first.”

More laughter. Ray pointed mock-sternly at her.

“But seriously,” he said. “They’re the future. I’m here to make sure they get there.”

Then came Trent Overunder. “Captain Man, property damage doubled during your first decade. What do you say to taxpayers this time?”

Ray flashed his most innocent smile. "Easy. I’m partnering with local contractors, so every cracked building is also a jobs program.”

The audience cheered at this.

From the back of the room, someone slipped through the doors. Ray caught a glimpse—a flash of a clipboard, a steady stride. He frowned slightly, but the next question pulled his attention forward.

“Dylan Sharpe, Swellview Gazette. Any comment on rumors your retirement was due to personal entanglements?”

Credenza went still in the front row.

Ray didn’t blink. “My only long-term entanglement?” He shrugged. “Justice. She’s... high-maintenance.”

Laughter again.

Before the Mayor could move on, a new hand shot up, waving with the enthusiasm of someone who’d maybe attended the conference for this exact moment. Ray spotted him and nearly groaned.

“Uh, yes? You in the—uh—Captain Man T-shirt?”

“Jasper Dunlop, freelance enthusiast.” He didn’t wait for the mic. “Important follow-up: if you’re back on the job, does that mean the Captain Man bobbleheads are officially vintage now? Because I may have accidentally ordered like… five hundred.”

The room chuckled. Ray raised an eyebrow.

“Accidentally?”

Jasper shrugged. “They were, like, buy-two-hundred-get-three-hundred-free. It was a good deal. You know how it is.”

Ray deadpanned, “Sure, kid. Clearly that kind of thing happens to all of us."

Bose whispered to Miles, “Honestly, I’d buy one.”

“Same,” he muttered back.

Ray sighed, mock-dramatic. “Fine. Yes, Jasper, they’re vintage. Congratulations. You’ve cornered the world’s weirdest market.”

Jasper fist-pumped like he’d won a lifetime supply of burritos.

The Mayor cleared her throat. “Last question, please.”

A hand rose—clipboard gleaming under fluorescent lights.

"Pi—you there," Ray said, catching himself mid-slip. "With the clipboard."

“Piper Hart,” she said. “President of the Man Fans.”

She adjusted her clipboard, but didn’t read from it. Her voice was clear, a touch softer than the others—genuine, without the polish of a journalist or the glint of a politician.

“Captain Man… first of all, welcome back. You were kind of the reason I got into heroism—unofficially, of course. There was something about knowing you were out there. It made people feel safer.”

There were nods in the room. A few murmurs of agreement. Ray didn’t speak yet—just watched her, his expression unreadable.

“So… I guess my question is simple. Not about policies or power grids. Just—what do you need, now that you’re back? What should your fans, this city, your team—what should we be for you, while you're being everything for us again?”

The press room fell still. The hum of the lights overhead, the gentle click of a camera lens adjusting—it all seemed to fade.

Ray blinked, once.

“That’s… a good question," he said softly.

He glanced down, then back up, eyes not finding the press this time, but settling on her.

“Honestly? Just be patient with me. I’m relearning a few things. How to carry the weight. How to let other people help carry it, too.”

He looked over his shoulder at Danger Force, then back to the crowd.

“You don’t have to cheer the loudest. You don’t have to believe I’ll never screw up. Just don’t stop believing I’m still trying. That I’ll keep showing up. That I haven’t given up.”

He paused, letting the moment land. “Oh, and maybe fewer drone tributes. They terrify pigeons.”

The room broke into laughter—warmer this time, earned. Piper gave him a tight, almost-smile, and nodded once before sitting down.

From the stage, Ray gave the faintest return nod.

He didn’t have to say it aloud, but it was obvious to anyone really watching:

That? That was the question he needed.

It would be a while before the press room cleared out. Ray shook hands, laughed at jokes, posed for photos. But his thoughts were elsewhere, working through what had just happened. How one, simple question—'what do you need'—could make him feel like he was falling from a building.

The Mayor finally waved to a couple stragglers, signaling the press conference was over. Cameras powered down with little electronic sighs.

Credenza made her way through the crowd, radiant in red. She reached Ray with all the authority of someone who knew her boyfriend had just crushed it.

She smoothed his lapel with deliberate flair. “You were great. They were eating it up. The Mayor even teared up a little. And she’s got Botox, so that’s impressive.”

Ray smiled at her appreciatively. “Thanks, babe.”

Drex sidled over, arms folded, sunglasses still on indoors like he was hiding from both the light and the law. “You should’ve let me handle Trent Overunder. I had a whole speech ready about property damage being a metaphor for emotional growth.”

Ray gave him a flat look. “You are the property damage.”

Drex grinned proudly. “Still counts.”

Ray opened his mouth to reply—but his gaze drifted past Drex, across the room, and snagged on something else entirely.

Piper.

She was already gathering her things, but not with her usual precision. Her movements were slower. Tighter. Clipboard tucked under one arm, bag slung awkwardly over her shoulder, fingers twitching like she wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Her expression was still. Too still.

Whatever question she’d asked him in front of the cameras, some bigger question was chewing at her now.

He tried to read her face. Nothing. She wasn’t just being quiet—she was off. The way she got when she was keeping something tightly locked away.

Ray turned back to Credenza. “Can you, uh—give me a minute?”

Credenza followed his line of sight, read the worry there, and stepped back. "Sure. I’ll wait outside. Don’t take too long. I promised Buddy tacos.”

Drex tilted his head. “Do I get tacos?”

Credenza stared at him. “Only if you stop lurking like a mall cop.”

Drex looked offended. “I'm trying to be a supportive friend. And I'm in disguise. This is my energy.”

Ray tuned them out as he crossed the room.

From somewhere behind him, Jasper called out, “Nice job, Captain Man! Nailed it!”

But Ray was already moving, zeroed in on Piper.

Piper noticed him a second before he reached her. And just for a moment, the mask she’d been holding in place slipped. Her mouth softened. Not quite a smile, but something close.

“Hey,” she said.

Up close he could see the tension ringing her eyes, tiny muscles jumping in her jaw. Something had spooked her. He opened his mouth—What happened? Are you okay?—but the words stuck.

She beat him to it. “You were great, you know. You really… sounded sincere up there.”

He blinked, thrown by the praise. "Thanks."

Coward, he chided himself. Just ask her what’s wrong. But another sentence tumbled out first. “I never really… asked you.”

Her forehead creased slightly. “Asked me what?”

“Your question,” he said, forcing a crooked smile. “About what the city should be for me. What I need.”

Piper paused, looking surprised. “You’re asking for... my opinion?”

“I am.” And he realized he meant it; deflecting or not, he wanted to hear her answer.

She studied him again, searching. Finally, her shoulders dropped a little, the stiffness easing. “It wasn’t a setup, you know,” she said. “The question, I mean. I was genuinely curious.”

“I know." He believed her. But something about hearing the question had hit him harder than expected—like the floor had dropped out from under him. The breathless feeling hadn’t gone away.

"No one’s ever really asked me that before," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re Captain Man. People expect you to have the answers.”

“I don’t, though. Not lately.”

She leaned in, voice lowering as the room emptied. “That’s not what it looked like up there.”

Ray gave a quiet exhale. “That’s the thing about a stage,” he said. “From far enough away, you can look like anything.”

A silence settled. Not uncomfortable. Just real.

Piper hesitated, then said, “I don’t know what you need, Ray. But I know what I would want, if it were me.”

He looked at her, open. “Yeah?”

“I’d want to know that when things get bad, I don’t have to pretend I’m not scared. Or alone. I’d want someone to tell me it’s okay to be both, sometimes.”

He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “That… sounds about right.”

She gave a small, apologetic shrug. “That’s all I’ve got. Not exactly superhero advice.”

He half-smiled, sincerity creeping in. “That’s better than superhero advice.”

The lines in her face softened, but whatever had shaken her hadn’t left. It still lingered in the quiet behind her eyes. He nearly tried again—Piper, what’s going on?—when a clatter from the corner cut through the hush. A tech cursing over a toppled light stand.

Ray looked back at her. “Can I walk you out?”

Clipboard hugged to her chest, she nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They fell into step, heading toward the exit beneath the slightly drooping WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN MAN banner. The last of the press and crew were filtering out. The noise dimmed behind them.

As they reached the doors, Piper glanced at him, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You know, you handled Jasper’s question better than I would have.”

Ray grinned. “It’s not my first Jasper incident.”

She laughed, and the sound echoed just a little in the emptying room, a note of something almost like hope.

And yet, even as they walked side by side into the hall, Ray couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had rattled her—it hadn’t passed.

Not yet.

The city never really slept. It just pretended. That’s how he found the cracks. How he crept through them, smoke in the walls, silence in the electric dark.

Tonight, Blackout stood just beyond the edge of Bill Evil’s fortress, in the heavy shadow of the sycamores lining the drive. The mansion loomed above the hedges, windowless from the ground floor to the eaves—shuttered steel, surveillance cameras winking red, motion lights crawling across marble columns and iron gates. Not a single crack for comfort. Not a single lamp burning for a lost soul.

It made him want to laugh, but he didn’t. He watched the fence, felt the hum of electricity through the wires—Bill’s version of “safe.” He knew the codes. He knew every flaw, every circuit, every dark spot in the perimeter. He’d lived in worse cages. He’d escaped every one.

His gloved hand flexed around the familiar weight of his mask—a habit, not a need. He’d outgrown masks. Or maybe he’d just learned what it felt like to wear one all the time.

Somewhere in the city, Piper Hart was probably still awake, haunted by the answers Bill had given her. He knew—he’d been watching. She was clever, that one. Brave enough to ask dangerous questions, foolish enough to look for the truth.

He wondered, for a moment, if she would have asked him what he needed, if she’d ever met him as anything but a monster. The thought made something sour curl in his stomach. He’d let it go.

Bill Evil, though—Bill knew all about monsters. He’d built a few. Given them names, cages, numbers. Some he’d called sons. Some he’d just called “experiments.”

And in the end, Bill never wanted to see what his inventions became.

But Blackout would make sure he saw it tonight. Make sure he felt it—right down to the part of him that had always believed the darkness could be measured, controlled, locked up in a lab and forgotten.

He would show Bill what came from trying to play god in a city that had stopped believing in them.

The hunger was stirring again, rising behind his eyes, hot and sharp. It always did when he got too close to old wounds. To the people who opened them.

He reached for it, let it smolder in his chest. It would be over quickly, for Bill. Or maybe not. He hadn’t decided yet.

Tonight, he would visit the man who made him this way. The man who called himself “Evil” and thought that naming it would keep it under control.

Tonight, Bill would meet his masterpiece.

And for the first time in years, Blackout smiled.

It was her first ever court case.

Piper glanced back at the gallery, meeting Schwoz’s eager thumbs-up—right before the bailiff swooped in and, with the efficiency of someone who’d seen it all, confiscated the camera and handed Schwoz a pamphlet on courtroom etiquette titled “Please Stop That.”

Next to Schwoz, Jasper was practically vibrating with anticipation, mouthing, “We got this, Miss Shapen!” and waving a laminated 'Go Piper!' sign he’d definitely made with glitter gel pens and an alarming amount of hope.

Behind them sat her parents. Jake’s hand rested gently on Kris’s knee, both of them wearing their 'we’re proud, we’re terrified, and we might faint' faces. Kris’s nails were digging crescents into Jake’s arm, and Jake was whispering affirmations like he was trying to talk both of them down from a ledge.

At the front table, Piper tapped her pen against a legal pad, trying to ignore the aftershocks still skittering through her brain from the Bill Evil meeting two days ago. She’d barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the jittery shadows of his private study, the look in Bill’s eyes, the walls that seemed to hum.

And now, Logan wasn’t coming.

She’d checked her inbox five times, but the three-line email from Radcliffe hadn’t changed: 'Mr. Mallory is unwell and will not be attending today’s hearing. We apologize for the inconvenience. Good luck.'

Good luck.

She was going to scream.

No Logan. No backup. Just her and a client who once expelled a student for sneezing too loud.

Her phone buzzed with a new message, a single text from James lighting up the lock screen: You’ve got this, Pipes. Courtroom can’t handle the Hart-titude. Wish I could be there to see it—call me when you’re done.

Piper’s heart squeezed. James’s steady confidence usually quieted the chaos in her head—he was a lawyer, too; if he were in the gallery she could breathe easier, trade a silent look, know she wasn’t alone. But he was stuck on a client meeting. And with Logan out sick, she was more alone at the counsel table than she’d ever expected to be.

She set the phone face-down, inhaled, and lifted her chin.

Miss Shapen sat beside her, dressed in an aggressively pink pantsuit and a glittering headband that looked like it could take out a small drone. She surveyed the courtroom like it was a battlefield and she had already won.

“All rise,” the bailiff called.

Judge Mahoney, portly and mustached, took his seat with an air of someone whose lunch had been delayed by courtroom drama one too many times.

“Miss Hart,” he said, peering over his glasses. “Are you ready to proceed?”

Piper swallowed. Her mouth felt like sandpaper.

She stood, smoothing her blazer with more force than necessary. “Ready, Your Honor.”

Behind her, Schwoz whispered loudly, “You got this, Piper!” The bailiff shot him a death glare and waved the pamphlet again like a warning flag.

Miss Shapen leaned over, her tone sharp as a dry-erase marker. “If you choke, I will haunt your LinkedIn profile.”

“Duly noted,” Piper muttered, flipping open her notes.

Across the aisle, opposing counsel Mr. Lint rose. He looked like a man who used the phrase 'as per my last email' in real-life conversation and expected applause.

"Your Honor," Lint said, smoothing his tie, "we are here to demonstrate that my client, Mr. Fisher, was the primary breadwinner in the marriage and is entitled to fair compensation for the years he spent supporting his wife’s extravagant… fashion choices.”

Miss Shapen let out a sharp, indignant gasp. “They’re called statement pieces, you buttoned-up oatmeal worm.”

Jake and Kris both flinched at her language. Jasper leaned over to Schwoz. “That’s the same energy she used when I wore mismatched socks in sophomore year.”

"We seek alimony commensurate with my client's sacrifices," Lint ended with a flourish.

Judge Mahoney sniffed. “Thank you, Mr. Lint. Miss Hart, your turn.”

Piper’s mind buzzed with flashes of the Evil mansion, but she forced herself into the moment. She remembered what her mom always said: “When in doubt, project confidence. And never let anyone else do your eyeliner.”

She rose with quiet certainty. “Your Honor, my client isn’t just an educator. She’s an icon. She’s shaped the youth of Swellview for decades and—” she glanced at Jasper, who gave two thumbs up, “—she inspired entire generations to actually care about each other.”

A titter of giggles in the gallery—all her former students in the crowd knowing the last part wasn't true. Miss Shapen, however, dabbed a tear, real or contact-lens irritation, Piper wasn't sure.

She inhaled again, steadier: “We’ll show Mr. Fisher wasn’t a powerless provider—he was an opportunist who used my client’s good credit like an unlimited gift card.”

Mr. Lint scoffed loudly while the judge cleared his throat ominously.

“Is it true,” Lint snapped, “Miss Shapen, that you once changed the locks on your marital home because your husband left glitter in your car?”

Miss Shapen leaned into the mic. “If you’ve ever tried to remove glitter from a 2003 sedan, you’d understand.”

Piper stepped in, “Your Honor, is there a question about marital assets here? Or just an attempt to traumatize my client with craft supplies?”

Judge Mahoney arched an eyebrow. “Let’s stick to the case, Mr. Lint.”

It was time for the first cross-examination. Lint called Mr. Fisher first. The man wore a neck brace—unrelated to any known injury—and clutched a handkerchief. He looked exactly like the type of man she pictured Miss Shapen would go for.

“Mr. Fisher,” Lint purred, “describe the emotional pain when you learned your wife purchased a $700 heated towel rack using your joint funds.”

Fisher sniffled twice. “I… I felt used, Your Honor. Cold… and used.”

Half the courtroom groaned. Schwoz stage-whispered to Kris, “Cold? It’s a heated rack.”

Miss Shapen narrowed her eyes at her ex-husband. “I have circulation issues, you walking bowl of cereal.”

Lint ignored her. “This is one of many reckless expenditures made without my client’s consent—expenditures that reflect not necessity, but extravagance. We'd like to submit this receipt as evidence, dated one week before the separation.”

He strutted toward Judge Mahoney, waving the crisp, pink-highlighted receipt like it was the smoking gun of the century. Cameras from two local stations zoomed in; Schwoz instinctively lifted his camera, remembered the pamphlet warning, and sank back with a pout.

Judge Mahoney adjusted his glasses, squinting at the highlighted total. “That’s… a lot for a towel rack.”

Mr. Lint pressed on, “Your Honor, this is just one of many examples. If you’ll notice—on page six of the financial summary—there’s also a spa day, a facial steamer, and no less than seventeen leopard-print scarves.”

Miss Shapen crossed her arms. “Accessories are a right, not a privilege."

Piper rose—steady spine, knees knocking under the table—and approached with a single sheet of paper in her hand. “Your Honor, if I may?”

Judge Mahoney looked up, surprised by the edge in her tone. “Go ahead, Miss Hart.”

“Mr. Fisher,” she said, voice level, “your written statement reads that you were shocked—and quote—emotionally frost-bitten—when you discovered the heated towel rack purchase. Correct?”

Fisher patted his neck brace. “Deeply wounded, yes.”

“Mr. Lint wants us to believe this was some reckless, selfish luxury,” she said. “But let’s look at the context.” She held up the paper. “Could you read this Instagram caption aloud for the court?”

He squinted. "‘Convincing the wife she bought this herself. LOL.’”

The gallery gasped. Jasper’s jaw dropped. Kris squeezed Jake’s arm while he whispered, “No way.”

Piper clicked a remote. The courtroom monitors flickered to life, displaying a selfie of Fisher at Dingo’s Towel Emporium, arm-in-arm with the very rack in question, timestamped 4:37 p.m.—an hour after he’d told Miss Shapen he was 'working late.'

Judge Mahoney leaned in. “Mr. Fisher, are you aware your privacy settings are… less than private?”

Mr. Lint leapt up. “Objection—irrelevant grandstanding!”

Mahoney waved him down. “Overruled. Proceed, Miss Hart.”

Piper pressed in, her confidence building. “And this isn’t the only example. We have multiple posts from Mr. Fisher bragging about putting purchases in Miss Shapen’s name to ‘protect his assets.’ Including a talking massage chair, a 2D globe, and—” she paused for effect, “—seven novelty penguin costumes.”

Miss Shapen let out a shriek of satisfaction. “I knew it!”

Piper smiled calmly. “This isn’t a case about marital imbalance. It’s a case about manipulation. My client didn’t spend recklessly. She was played. Repeatedly. And now Mr. Fisher is in court asking for money he tried to hide.”

The courtroom was dead silent.

Piper’s heart was thudding, but it was no longer fear.

It was adrenaline.

Judge Mahoney glanced at the exhibits again. Then at Mr. Fisher, who had slid so far down in his seat he looked like he might roll out of it.

"I think I've heard enough."

His gavel hovered, ready to drop—when the courtroom doors banged open.

Every head turned as a second bailiff strode in, clutching a sealed evidence box and a bright-yellow chain-of-custody form.

“Apologies, Your Honor,” she said, slightly out of breath. “New subpoena return—delivered minutes ago by Swellview Metro PD. Labeled Exhibit X in Fisher v. Shapen.”

Judge Mahoney frowned. “Exhibit X? We’ve barely made it to E.”

She lowered the box onto the bailiff’s desk with a dull thunk. Even from counsel table, Piper could read the sticker on top: PROPERTY OF SWELLVIEW PUBLIC SCHOOLS — CONFISCATED FROM LOCKER #108

Miss Shapen paled beneath her bronzer. “Locker 108? That—that could be anyone’s locker!”

Jake muttered, “Pretty sure that was mine in eighth grade.” Kris elbowed him.

Mahoney slit the tape, lifting out a stack of bound ledgers, a thumb-drive bagged in evidence plastic, and—strangest of all—a Swellview High detention clipboard dated last semester. He skimmed the top ledger page and his eyebrows shot north.

“Counsel, approach,” he snapped.

Piper’s pulse hammered as she joined Mr. Lint at the bench. The judge rotated the ledger so they could both see: rows of student names, detention fines, and next to each, a handwritten note: ‘Transferred to SHP Fund’ — initialed S.S.'

Piper blinked. “SHP Fund?”

Lint’s grin returned like a vulture spotting fresh roadkill. “Your Honor, that appears to be the Shapen Heritage Preservation Fund—a private account.”

The judge flipped to a bank print-out paper-clipped behind the ledger: deposits totaling $22,480 over eighteen months—every entry labeled “Detention Fee.”

Lint’s voice dripped triumph. “Looks like our iconic educator was charging pay-to-leave-early detentions—and pocketing the proceeds.”

A low wave of shock rippled through the gallery. Jasper actually gasped, while another former student muttered, “That tracks. One time, she sold my Red Bull back to me!”

Miss Shapen sprang up. “Those were entirely optional donations to classroom beautification!”

Piper’s throat went dry.

Mahoney raised a warning hand. “Everyone please remain seated."

Meanwhile, the bailiff was already unsealing the thumb-drive envelope. “There’s video, too, Your Honor—security cam outside the school building. Timestamped two nights before the separation.”

The courtroom monitors flickered on: grainy footage of Miss Shapen, pink trench coat unmistakable, wheeling a dolly stacked with boxes labeled ‘S.H.P. FUND—STATEMENT PIECES’ into the school parking lot. She loaded them into, of all things, Mr. Fisher’s van.

Lint’s smugness powered the fluorescent lights. “Your Honor, this new evidence shows a secret revenue stream and possible collusion to move assets pre-separation. At minimum, we need discovery, and frankly—” he turned, savoring the moment—“we might be looking at embezzlement.”

A collective gasp—and one delighted “Ooh!” from the news camera.

Piper’s mind spun: detention cash, hidden fund, late-night transfer… Had Miss Shapen set Fisher up—or had they schemed together? Either way, she was blindsided.

Judge Mahoney exhaled through his mustache. “This changes the landscape considerably. Miss Hart, I will give you and—” he glanced at the empty defense chair—“Mr. Mallory, when recovered—the opportunity to review. Court will recess and reconvene in seventy-two hours.”

Bang.

Miss Shapen whipped toward her, eyes wide with wild energy, voice pitched somewhere between plea and command. “It’s not what it looks like! I’m being set up!”

Piper stared at her—truly stared—for the first time since she’d been handed this case. She saw not just the sequins and the bravado, but a woman whose life had just spun out of her control. Maybe for the first time, ever.

Her own heart thundered. Piper’s mouth worked silently before words finally landed, sharp and raw. “Miss Shapen… you need to tell me everything. Everything. Because I just got blindsided in open court and you didn’t warn me. I’m not a magician—I can’t fix what I don’t know.”

Miss Shapen’s face crumpled, equal parts panic and offense. “Piper—sweetie—”

“No,” Piper cut in, her voice lower, trembling with adrenaline and frustration. “Don’t ‘sweetie’ me. If there’s more—if you’ve been hiding things, or if you’re right and someone is framing you—I need to know.”

She felt her hands shaking and pressed them flat against the table, fighting for composure. All eyes were on her—the gallery, the judge, the cameras—but for a second, it was just her and Miss Shapen, alone in a mess of secrets.

Miss Shapen blinked, stunned. “I… I swear, it’s not what it looks like. I’d never—Piper, please…”

Her voice wobbled, mascara threatening to run for the first time Piper could remember. But Piper couldn’t even muster reassurance. Not yet. She needed facts, not promises.

She forced herself to breathe, then managed, “We’ll—uh—we’ll talk. Later. After I see everything.”

Miss Shapen reached for her, but Piper stepped back, steadying herself on the table. “I have to figure out what kind of mess I’m actually in before I can fix yours.”

As the courtroom emptied, her family hovered nearby. Jasper slowly lowered his sign. “I can't believe this."

Schwoz leaned over to him. “Are you kidding? Surprise twists are always the best!"

Piper stood there, her confidence rattled, her loyalty tested, and—for the first time—wondering if maybe she wasn’t cut out for this after all.

But then she saw her mom’s anxious smile and her dad’s hopeful nod, and something inside her clicked back into place.

She squared her shoulders.

This wasn't over.

She had seventy-two hours to figure out the truth—about Miss Shapen, about the fund, about whatever else was hiding in the shadows.

And she’d do it with or without Logan’s help.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 | Fresno Girl

Piper sat cross-legged in a corner of the Man’s Nest, typing with furious precision on her work laptop. The world outside her bubble was chaos—Danger Force training with Ray, the clang of weights, Bose yelping, Ray shouting about “core engagement!”—but she tuned it all out.

Schwoz lounged nearby in a reclining chair, lazily tossing popcorn into his mouth. “Nice form, Chapa!” he called, watching his friends fondly.

Piper didn’t look up once. She was on a deadline. A loud, ticking, soul-squeezing deadline.

And not just the court case. That was the part people could see.

Her screen was cluttered with case files and evidence photos, but her mind kept glitching back to Bill Evil’s haunted face, the echo of his confession, the feeling that something had been pried out of her hands and erased for good.

Jasper bounced over, chewing gum, and leaned far too close to her screen. “Whatcha up to? Still working?”

Piper didn’t even blink. “No, Jasper, I’m crocheting a quilt of disappointment. Of course I’m still working!”

Jasper frowned. “Whoa. Okay. Chill.”

She slammed the laptop shut with a sharp snap. “I can’t ‘chill,’ Jasper. I have—” She stabbed a finger at the stack of files, “—less than seventy-two hours to dig through this landfill of evidence, twelve new exhibits Radcliffe dumped on me before sunrise, and Logan is apparently ‘too sick’ to show up. I’m doing everything myself, and I swear if I hear you smack your gum one more time I’m going to throw you off Mount Swellview.”

Jasper held up his hands in surrender. “I'm just trying to be supportive.”

“Well, support from over there!” she snapped, jabbing her finger toward the opposite wall. “You breathing on my neck isn’t helping.”

He recoiled. “Okay! Sheesh. I forgot how stabby you get when you're stressed.”

She muttered, “You should see me when I'm calm.”

Schwoz, without looking up from his popcorn, muttered, “Do we even know if she has a calm setting? I feel like that’s a premium feature.”

“Do you want to be next?” Piper snapped, shooting him a glare so sharp it could have cut glass.

Schwoz slowly turned his head toward her, blinking. “I mean… no. But statistically speaking, you were gonna snap at someone and I didn’t want Jasper to be alone in that trauma.” He stuffed another handful of popcorn into his mouth and added quietly, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

She ignored him.

"You want me to get you coffee or…?” Jasper asked carefully.

Piper gave him a withering look and didn't answer. Instead, she let out a long, frustrated groan, reopening her laptop and thumping her head gently against the screen. “Unbelievable. I should have just become an influencer like a normal person.”

Jasper, finally getting the message, sidled away. “If you need me, I’ll be… not here.”

She didn’t answer, already back to typing with aggressive purpose. Her jaw was set, her shoulders hunched, and every click of the keyboard sounded like a warning: Approach at your own risk.

But her brain wouldn’t let her settle. The same questions looped endlessly:

Should she tell Ray what Bill Evil said? That there had been evidence—something huge—but it was gone now. That—if her suspicions were correct—Henry and Charlotte had gotten to him first. That they'd taken whatever proof he had and disappeared with it.

And now she had nothing. Just a dead end. A haunted mansion. And a gut feeling that the hole in the story was the size of something dangerous.

Her fingers paused over the keys.

She glanced at Jasper again. He was now perched on a stool near the autosnacker, attempting to make himself a sandwich. For a moment, she wondered—really wondered—if he knew more than he let on. After all, he’d been with them. He’d gone dark with Henry and Charlotte before everything fell apart.

But if he knew something… wouldn’t he have said it by now?

Unless he didn’t think she could handle it.

Unless she really couldn’t.

Piper shoved the thought away, but it stuck like gum on a shoe.

What if telling Ray just made things worse? What if she was wrong, and started a panic over something she didn’t fully understand?

She pressed her palms to her eyes, willing the anxiety down. Trying to ground herself. She could handle it. She had to. If not her, then who?

A loud crash echoed from the Danger Force training pit—metal clanging, someone yelling "I’m fine!" followed by another thud.

She heard Ray’s voice booming from the far side of the room: “Miles, you have to actually aim at the bad guy! The sandbag is not the bad guy—unless you want it to be. Do you want it to be?”

Piper almost snorted, but the urge faded. She was alone, surrounded by people. And she hated that feeling most of all.

She was so, so tired of secrets. Of missing pieces. Of having to decide who got to know what, and when. Of feeling like a kid in a room full of grown-up consequences.

Part of her wished—just a little—that someone would look at her and ask, seriously this time: Are you okay?

Because the answer would’ve been: No. I'm not okay.

Her phone buzzed again.

She glanced down at the lock screen, still expecting James. Still hoping for his usual perfect-timing text. But it wasn’t him.

It was a TwitFlash news alert.

BREAKING: BILLIONAIRE SCIENTIST BILL EVIL FOUND DEAD INSIDE HIS MANSION THIS MORNING.

Her breath caught.

The world didn’t stop. The crash of training equipment still echoed from the other side of the room. Schwoz crunched another piece of popcorn. Jasper dropped his sandwich. But inside her chest, everything did stop.

She clicked the link with numb fingers. The article was bare-bones—“no sign of forced entry,” “investigation pending,” “foul play not ruled out.”

A photo of the mansion—shuttered, cold, ringed by crime tape.

The same place she’d stood two days ago.

The same man who had looked her in the eye and whispered, “I made something I couldn’t destroy.”

Dead.

He was dead.

Piper’s heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the rest of the world. Her skin went cold, her ears ringing.

No sign of forced entry.

She felt like throwing up.

This wasn’t coincidence. It couldn’t be. She knew something had followed her to that house. Something had watched her leave. And now… now Bill was gone, and she—

She had told no one.

She had let it happen.

A static charge danced up her arms. Her hair prickled. She tried to steady her breathing but the lights flickered again—this time harder. Every monitor in the Man’s Nest briefly glitched to black and then back to normal.

Nobody else was paying attention. Except Schwoz, who suddenly straightened and glanced at the ceiling.

Piper’s panic surged, feeding the thing inside her she still didn’t understand. The guilt hit all at once. A tidal wave straight to the lungs.

She stood up too fast. Her laptop slid sideways on the cushion, her chair toppling with a crash that made Schwoz flinch and Ray whip his head around.

Jasper looked up, concern flickering across his face. “Pipes?”

Schwoz’s eyes snapped up, all humor draining from his face as the lights flickered. “Piper?” he said sharply, already sitting upright. “Hey—what's wrong? Talk to us.”

But she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak.

She clutched her phone and ran through the room, past Schwoz, past Ray—who moved instinctively into her path.

“Piper?” Ray’s voice cut through the clamor—firm, then unexpectedly quiet. He stepped in front of her, fingertips brushing her sleeve like he wasn’t sure whether to stop her or follow.

She didn’t stop. Just veered around him, eyes wide and unfocused.

The lights overhead buzzed sharply, then half the room went dark. For a breathless second, every screen in the Man’s Nest glitched—monitors flickering, mechanical doors hiccupping mid-cycle, the autosnacker going eerily still.

Danger Force watched in stunned silence. Bose took a step back. Mika whispered, "Is she okay?” but no one answered.

Piper blinked hard, trying to hold herself together, but the air was hot and stinging with static. She heard Jasper call her name again, softer, closer, but she just pushed past him.

She didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to get out. Now.

Her thoughts were unraveling, fast and sharp and wild. What if this was her fault? What if whoever killed Bill was still watching?

The walls seemed to hum again, just like in the mansion. That phantom vibration. That echo that curled around her brain and whispered: You waited too long.

She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

But the fear was coiling deep and tight. And the guilt—the guilt was worse.

Because Bill Evil had looked her in the eyes and told her the city was in danger.

And now he was dead.

And she hadn’t stopped it.

She ran until her lungs burned.

She didn't remember how she'd gotten up here—at the top of Mount Swellview—just that the path had dissolved under her shoes, gravel spinning out behind her, trees blurring as she climbed and climbed and didn’t stop until there was nowhere left to go.

Now she was perched at the summit, knees tucked to her chest, trying to force air into her lungs. The world below was peaceful, city lights twinkling like a thousand distant eyes. Her own heart felt too loud—pounding in her ears, in her wrists, everywhere.

But the buzzing in her skin was louder.

It started in her fingertips, a familiar prickle that crawled up her arms, crackling beneath her skin. She gasped, hands trembling. The tips of her shoes glowed faint blue, every loose stone around her shuddering with static. Electricity whined in her ears—she couldn’t tell if it was real or just her head splitting in two.

Not again.

She tried to breathe, but every inhale came out jagged, clipped. The more she tried to calm down, the worse it got. Her vision shimmered, the lights of Swellview below flickering, gutters of shadow rolling out from the mountain’s base like a living thing.

“Stop—” she whispered, to herself, to her body, to whatever was inside her. “Stop, please—”

But the static pulsed back—merciless and angry. The clouds above shimmered, a corona of blue edging their bellies. Piper tried to press her hands flat to the earth, to ground herself, but the charge only grew.

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, everything went black.

Streetlamps, billboards, car headlights. The whole city winked out, swallowed in shadow. The only light left was the neon-blue lightning cracking from her fists and the glow at her shoes, like she’d become the fuse box for the city and the wires had all melted.

A wave of panic crashed over her. She doubled over, fists to her forehead, barely biting back a scream.

A moment later, footsteps crunched behind her, slow and steady, parting the silence without shattering it. A shadow moved, blocking the moon for a second.

Ray.

She felt him settle beside her, close but not touching—his presence solid and quiet and patient, like the only unbreakable thing on the mountain.

He didn’t speak, not at first. He just sat, letting the air stretch and the panic bleed out of her with nowhere to go. Piper’s fists trembled in her lap, arcs of electricity still snapping between her fingers.

She didn’t look at him, couldn’t. When she finally spoke, it was more breath than voice. “Don’t—” she managed, “I can’t—I can’t stop it—”

Ray’s voice was gentle, so gentle she almost hated him for it. “You don’t have to stop it. Not right now. Just breathe, Piper. That’s all you have to do.”

She let out a choked, helpless laugh. “You see the blackout, right? That’s me. That’s all me—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I still want you to breathe.”

He didn’t reach for her—just let the steady warmth of his presence anchor her, his voice the only thing that didn’t spark or flicker.

“We can fix the city. We can fix a lot of things. But right now, I just need you to remember how to breathe.”

She shook her head, voice breaking. “You don’t get it. I ruined everything. Bill’s dead. That was something I wasn't supposed to do and—”

Ray let the silence hold. The city, for once, didn’t intrude. Even the stars seemed to hush.

Piper squeezed her eyes shut, and the words tore out of her: “It’s all my fault.”

The wind picked up, cold and wild around them. The city was dark—her doing. Piper could feel the charge pulsing under her skin, fighting to get out. She hated it. Hated herself for letting it get this far.

Ray didn’t flinch. He just looked at her, eyes soft in the dark.

“No, it’s not.”

Piper laughed bitterly, hands clenched against her knees as her whole body shook. “You weren’t there, Ray. I was. I talked to him. I sat across from him and—he was scared. Bill Evil was scared, and I just… I just left.”

Her powers flared again, a shudder of blue light racing down her arms, sparking off the rocks around them. The panic was so big it didn’t fit inside her skin anymore. It wanted to pour out, to crack the sky.

Ray stayed still. “You didn’t kill him, Piper.”

She pressed her fists to her mouth. “I didn’t save him either.”

Her shoulders shook. The words hung in the dark, heavy and true.

Piper felt him shift slightly beside her, grounding himself in the gravel. “You’re twenty. You’re an intern. You’re not a superhero—not yet. And you were never supposed to be the one to carry this alone.”

She turned, searching his face, blue light catching on the sharp lines of his jaw. “But I am carrying it. I can’t put it down.”

He didn’t look away.

“I know,” he said, voice low and steady. “But you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to fix everything. You’re allowed to be scared.”

She let her forehead rest on her knees. “What if I am the danger? What if this gets worse? What if I can’t control it next time and it’s not just lights—it’s people?”

He placed a careful hand on her shoulder. Warm, grounding.

“You’re not the danger, Piper. You’re the warning. You feel it first, so we don’t miss it. That’s not a curse. That’s the start of something good.”

She almost laughed, eyes glassy. “You always say things like that.”

A hot tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, embarrassed, and the gesture sent an uneasy flicker that danced up her arms and spilled in ghost-blue light across Ray’s knuckles.

He didn’t move. Instead, he slid his other hand over her fist, enclosing it gently. The sparks skated over his skin, then fizzled, as if her electricity couldn’t decide whether to fight him or listen.

She gasped. “Ray, I’ll shock you—”

“I’m indestructible, remember?” he murmured, but there was something soft behind the joke. “You can’t hurt me.”

Her breathing stuttered. “I can hurt everyone else.”

“We won’t let it get that far.” His thumb traced a calm circle over her knuckles. A hum passed through her palms—less violent this time, more like a heartbeat syncing to his steadier rhythm.

Below them, a few pinpricks of light flickered back to life on the edge of the city—backup grids warming, emergency power kicking on. Piper stared, wide-eyed, as streetlamps in the nearest neighborhood glowed, winked, then held.

Ray followed her gaze. “See? Swellview’s tough. It always finds a way to light back up.”

She wiped at her face again, a shaky, rueful laugh escaping her. “Sorry. This is… not exactly what you signed up for tonight.”

Ray shrugged, his thumb never leaving her hand. “I’ve had worse patrols.”

That finally drew a real, broken laugh from Piper. “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah, but aren't we all,” Ray said, his voice soft, his eyes searching hers, urging her forward but never pushing. “You don’t have to tell me. But I’ll listen if you want.”

She swallowed, feeling the words coil tight in her chest, then break free all at once.

“I went to see Bill Evil two days ago. I thought—I thought I could get something, anything, to help us fight Eclipse. Or Blackout. Or whatever’s coming. But I was too late. He—he already knew. He knew he was in danger. He gave everything to someone else—someone who came before me. A man and a woman. He said the city was in more trouble than anyone realized.”

Ray’s brows drew together, concern sharpening his features, but he didn’t interrupt.

She went on, voice quiet, each word careful, as if it might trigger another surge if she let it slip too easily. “He was scared, Ray. Genuinely scared. He said he’d made something—something he couldn’t destroy."

"What did he make?"

Her voice trembled. "Blackout."

Ray’s breath caught. For the first time since he sat down, Piper saw the mask of Captain Man slip on—fierce, determined, and unwavering.

She barely dared to breath. "Bill said he created Blackout. And that he—he couldn't stop him. He looked at me like I was his last hope, Ray, and I left with nothing. I tried to get him to talk, but... I think he already knew it was over."

Ray's hand tightened gently over hers. The city below flickered as more emergency grids blinked awake, but up here, it was just the two of them in the dark—her power still humming, his warmth grounding her.

"He gave all his evidence to someone else?" Ray asked, his voice low, urgent now.

She nodded. "Six months ago. A man and woman. I think—no, I know—it had to be Henry and Charlotte." Her voice cracked. "They said they would keep it safe. Bill... he trusted them. And now, they're gone, too."

Ray's jaw clenched, worry and anger flickering across his face. "Piper, that's—this is big. Bill Evil was the best mind in the city, and if he was scared..." He let the sentence die, but his eyes didn't leave hers. "You should've told me sooner."

Piper flinched, guilt surging. "I know. I should have. But I kept thinking—what if telling you put everyone in more danger? What if I was wrong? It's bad enough you had to come out of retirement as it is. What if I just... made everything worse?"

Ray shifted.

“Look at me,” he said, soft but insistent.

Piper forced her eyes up. The blue glow in her irises had faded to a dull shimmer, but the worry there was still raw.

“You carried it because you care,” Ray went on. “That’s not wrong—it’s brave. But brave doesn’t mean alone.” His hand slid back to her shoulder, steady and warm. “Whatever Henry and Charlotte have, we’ll track it down. Schwoz can decode anything Bill encrypted. The rest of the team can sweep street intel. And you and I…” He offered a small, wry smile. “…are going to sleep at least once before we save the city.”

A shaky laugh puffed from her chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible and indestructible. It’s my gift.” He paused, letting the joke hang before growing serious again. “But I need you to promise me something.”

Her brows knit. “What?”

“That next time the weight gets too heavy—next time the static builds—call me before the streetlights blow, okay?” His hand covered hers again, fingers lacing this time. “Shock me, yell at me, text a single emoji—I don’t care. Just don’t carry it alone.”

A beat. Piper nodded, throat tight. “Okay,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“Good.” Ray exhaled, tension sloughing off his shoulders. “Now, your charge is still humming. Let it out slow.”

She hesitated. “What if I fry you?”

“You won’t.” He drew her hand to the center of his chest, over the blue t-shirt beneath his jacket. “Right here. Controlled pulse, like we practiced.”

They hadn’t practiced—ever—but something in his voice made her believe they could. Piper closed her fingers against his shirt. A soft blue current flickered, crawled, and dispersed into him. Tiny sparks danced across Ray’s collar, lighting his grin before fading like fireflies.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Again.”

Another breath. Another pulse. This time the release felt almost gentle, like exhaling tension she’d held for a lifetime. The last stubborn prickles of electricity faded from her skin.

On the horizon, more neighborhoods blinked awake—wave after wave of light rolling across Swellview. Generators whirred, traffic lights rebooted, the city re-knit itself one circuit at a time.

Piper sagged forward, forehead bumping Ray’s shoulder with an exhausted huff. “You know this doesn’t fix everything, right?”

“Wouldn’t be fun if it did.” He patted her back. “But it’s a start.”

After a moment, Piper sat up. Ray pulled in a deep breath, business sliding back into his eyes. “We should head down. Schwoz is probably tracking the blackout. The others will worry.”

"Right." Piper nodded reluctantly. She glanced over the dark ridge, city lights blooming stronger each second. “We’ll have to tell them everything.”

“We will,” Ray agreed.

Ray kept one hand gently at Piper’s back as they stepped through the sliding doors. She was quiet beside him—worn down, but steady now. The electric crackle that had shimmered off her skin up on the mountain was gone. What replaced it wasn’t calm exactly—but it was quieter. Like the sky after a storm.

The others turned at once. Jasper was the first to move—he bolted across the room, arms wide, and pulled Piper into a hug so fierce it knocked the air from both of them.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he said into her hair, voice cracking. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Ray watched Piper freeze for half a second, then slowly melt into the hug.

Schwoz turned in his chair, frowning beneath his hat. “The blackout started right after Piper left. That was not coincidence.”

“It wasn’t,” Ray confirmed.

Everyone stared.

Piper stepped back from Jasper, her voice quiet but firm. “It was me. I caused the blackout.”

Mika’s eyes widened. “What?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Piper added quickly, glancing at each of them. “But… I lost control.”

Chapa crossed her arms. “That’s what that was? You blacked out the entire city.”

“I panicked,” Piper said. “I didn’t mean to. I just—” Her eyes flicked to Ray, and for a moment, her breath caught. “There’s something I have to tell you. All of you.”

Ray stood beside her, arms crossed, heart pounding. He’d heard it already. But even now, hearing her say it out loud again felt like stepping off a cliff.

“Bill Evil’s dead,” Piper said. “And before he died… he told me the truth about Eclipse Industries. What they're after."

Silence fell. Heavy. Sharp. The kind that pulled the air from the room.

Ray felt it in his chest first—that shift. That moment when everyone else realized this wasn’t just another villain-of-the-week problem. This was bigger. Deeper.

Jasper froze. "Dead as in—?"

“He was killed,” Piper said. Her voice didn’t shake now. Not like before. “And I think it was because of what he knew. He told me he created Blackout. That he built something he couldn’t destroy. And Eclipse Industries… they’re trying to finish what he started.”

Chapa stepped forward. “Finish it how?”

“They’re not just looking for power,” Piper said. “They’re looking for control. Over energy. Over people. Bill said Swellview was only the beginning.”

Mika sat up straighter. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I was there,” Piper admitted. “I went to his mansion two days ago. He gave everything he had—evidence, research—to someone else. He said a young man and woman came before me. I’m almost sure it was Henry and Charlotte.”

She looked at Jasper as she said the last part. He stiffened under the weight of her gaze.

Piper stepped forward. “It was them, wasn’t it? Henry and Charlotte. They came back.”

Jasper didn’t deny it. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Yeah. They did.”

Ray’s head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Six months ago,” Jasper said. “They came back to Swellview. Just for a couple days. While Henry's parents were visiting Piper at college. Long enough to meet Bill, collect whatever data he had left. Then they came back to Dystopia, where I was holding down the fort.”

“You knew?” Piper’s voice cracked, not with anger, but something quieter. Hurt. “You knew they were here—what they had—and you didn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Jasper said quickly. “I wanted to. But things were already getting weird—you developed powers, they were watching you. He was watching you, and if you led anyone to that evidence...”

He trailed off.

Piper folded her arms tightly over her chest. “So where is it? The evidence. If they had it—”

“They didn’t take it with them,” Jasper said. “Charlotte couldn’t finish decrypting it in time. So Henry… he hid it. Somewhere here. Somewhere in Swellview.”

“Wait,” Schwoz cut in, eyes wide. “You think it’s still in the city? Unprotected?”

Jasper nodded grimly. “That’s why I’ve been poking around the Hart house ever since I got back. I thought maybe Henry stashed it somewhere there.”

Piper stared at him. “You’ve been searching our house?”

“Not like that,” Jasper said quickly. “I was careful. I just... I didn’t want to risk telling you. Not while Blackout might be watching. I was trying to protect you.”

A beat.

Piper exhaled slowly, the fight draining from her posture. “We have to find it.”

Ray turned to Jasper. “You said Henry hid it somewhere here. Somewhere in Swellview. Where would he go that no one else would think to look?”

“Swag warehouse?” Chapa offered.

“Empty. Just weird mannequins and expired taffy,” Jasper muttered.

"His old locker at Swellview High?" Miles offered.

"Checked it this morning," Jasper said. "Just dusty math worksheets and a moldy burrito wrapper."

"What about Junk-N-Stuff's crawlspace?" Mika tried.

"Henry already used that hide-and-seek spot the year the Wall Dogs chased him," Ray said. "Too obvious."

Schwoz perked up. "Man Cave sub-level, behind the emergency cheese freezer?"

Jasper shook his head. "Looked. Smelled. Regretted."

Chapa drummed her fingers on her bicep. "Okay, something weirder. Henry once taped Kid Danger comics inside the hollow of a big oak tree at Swellview Park—"

"Took a flashlight there yesterday," Jasper cut in. "Squirrels, no evidence."

Bose raised a tentative hand. "Maybe he hid it inside an actual squirrel?"

Everyone stared.

"Forget I said that."

Piper's heel tapped faster. "Can we stay tethered to reality, please? Henry would have hid it somewhere nobody would think to look, but somewhere he could grab fast, in and out."

Ray lifted a brow. “Great. Where?”

Piper shot him a glare, then muttered, “Yeah, because I’m totally the only person in this city who ever hid something.”

Jasper snorted. "You kind of are, Pipes. Remember the Fresno Girl Incident?" he said dryly.

Everyone went quiet. Color flared up Piper’s cheeks. "That was one time. And I was thirteen. And you're banned from bringing it up ever again."

Jasper kept poking. “You mean the time you got arrested—but the cops never found the doll because you buried it?”

“It was limited edition!” Piper snapped. “I’m still gonna sell it for big bucks someday!”

Her sarcasm faltered—eyes narrowing as the memory clicked.

Wait.

She looked up, sharp. "Hold on."

The room fell silent.

Piper pointed at Jasper, then Ray. "You guys remember—no one ever found that doll. Not the cops, not my parents, nobody."

Ray’s mouth tilted in a half-smile of disbelief. “Yeah—because you buried it so deep Captain Man and Kid Danger had to dig up half your yard… and I had to air-lift a deputy out of a six-foot trench. You turned a misdemeanor into a rescue op.”

His expression shifted—recognition dawning, then pure, helpless laughter.

He smacked a hand across his forehead. “Oh, come on—Henry Hart, you absolute menace. Of course he’d stash world-ending intel in the one place already booby-trapped by his little sister.”

Miles's jaw dropped. "Wait—are you saying the evidence is... buried in your backyard?"

"Inside your stolen Fresno Girl doll?" Mika asked, eyes wide.

Piper’s grin went feral. “Exactly.”

Ray let out a long breath—equal parts admiration and exasperation. “He really is your brother. Same brand of chaotic genius.”

Then he straightened, clapping once. “All right, team—grab shovels, flashlights, and whatever emotional support snacks you need. We’re about to relive Piper’s greatest felony.”

Schwoz whooped. “I call the metal detector!”

Piper rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the relief shining through. “Let’s go dig up my childhood trauma—and save the city while we’re at it.”

Everyone nodded.

"If we're going to do this properly," Mika added, ever the voice of reason, "we're going to need a diversion."

Jasper pumped a fist. “We are so back!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 | Lasagna Disaster

Piper stepped out into the night, the city behind her still flickering back to life after the blackout. She felt raw, the kind of tired that went all the way down to her bones. She bundled tighter into Schwoz's old jacket—part comfort, part armor. It smelled like engine grease and, annoyingly, a little like safety.

Jasper walked beside her, easy and silent, but also very aware of the stakes of their mission.

“Hey. You good?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful. She wanted to roll her eyes—default reflex—but found she couldn’t. Not tonight.

“Yeah. Actually… yeah. I am.” It was almost true. The panic was gone, but her stomach still twisted with all the unknowns.

She was supposed to lead them to Henry’s evidence, not tip off Eclipse or Blackout, and now the whole plan hinged on her parents and Chapa pulling off a dinner charade. Was this actually going to work? Or was she just getting her family in deeper?

Jasper's raised brow made her almost laugh. He was always reading her, looking for what she wasn’t saying. For once, there wasn’t much to hide—just a swarm of worries that words couldn’t contain. Still, when she caught his grin, she felt the flicker of something lighter, something like hope.

“So. Feel like digging up a little chaos tonight?” she tossed, feigning bravado. Maybe if she acted normal, everything would be.

He smirked. “With you? Chaos is the baseline.”

They made their way to the Man-Van, floodlights casting weird shadows on the street. Piper could hear the team arguing before she even climbed in—Chapa demanding a different wig, Bose lobbying for more snacks, Schwoz muttering about operational security. It was chaos, but at least it was familiar. For the first time in hours, the noise didn’t grate.

Ray was at the whiteboard, outlining the plan again like someone might have forgotten since five minutes ago. “Luigi’s downtown, table for three—Chapa as Piper, Kris, and Jake. Danger Force covers rooftops, keeps an eye out for anyone trailing.”

Miles offered, “I’ll teleport the second I see anyone even blink weird at the breadsticks.”

Ray nodded, taking it in. “Text every fifteen minutes. Code word is… ‘lasagna disaster.’”

Schwoz grinned, bouncing with anticipation. “Once they’re out, we head for the Hart house. Four of us dig, rest of the team holds the perimeter. Fast and clean.”

Chapa, with her arms crossed and her best 'Piper' glare, practiced rolling her eyes. “I’m ordering the salad and I’m not tipping. Totally believable, right?”

Piper smirked. “Just scowl at the waiter. Whoever's watching will think it’s the real me.”

Chapa grinned, slipping on the blonde wig and doing a hair toss that was both perfect and deeply insulting. “Relax. I’ve got your attitude memorized.”

Once the Man Van arrived at Luigi's, Piper watched her parents through the window as Chapa exited the van—her dad waving like an over-caffeinated squirrel, her mom fussing over Chapa’s wig and jacket. Would they pull it off? She almost wanted to text Kris a cheat sheet for “How to Parent a Piper in Public.”

“Text every fifteen,” Ray reminded everyone, all Captain Man business. “Let’s not draw attention. We’re counting on you.”

Miles, Mika, and Bose teleported into the city shadows. Suddenly the Man-Van felt cavernous, the wild energy from before fading to tense silence. Just Ray, Schwoz, Jasper, and her. The real mission.

Now the van was quieter, and Piper felt the tension coil back up. Jasper ran through the plan again. Ray nodded, checking every angle. Piper caught Ray’s eyes on her, the steady question there, and nudged him with her elbow just to prove she was still standing.

“You tired?” she asked, because if she thought about the evidence for one more second, she might actually burst.

Ray almost smiled. “Exhausted. But, you know. Superheroes don’t nap.” He looked tired—older, for a heartbeat. She tried to keep it light.

“Yeah, we’ll just make Jasper do all the digging.”

“You shorted the grid, but you’re still on shovel duty. Fair’s fair.” He got a laugh out of her, easing some of the pressure in her chest. He always knew how to do that, which was both infuriating and comforting.

She closed her eyes for a second, listening to the hum of the van and the muffled sounds of the city. But then, the worries returned. What if the Fresno Girl doll wasn’t there? What if Henry had changed the hiding place at the last minute? Would she even recognize it, after all these years? Would the others be disappointed if she led them to nothing?

Ray spoke up, voice soft. “Hey. Color check.”

She cracked one eye, lips twitching. “Uh… Periwinkle?”

He snorted. “So—alive, but capable of petty vengeance.”

Jasper leaned in eagerly. “If she’s Periwinkle, can I be Macaroni-and-Cheese?”

Ray deadpanned, “You are Macaroni-and-Cheese. You always have been.” It got a laugh, and Piper let it wash over her, grateful for the ridiculousness of her team.

When her eyes fluttered shut again, she felt Jasper's jacket settle over her shoulders, his hands gentle, tucking it higher than necessary, but she didn't shrug him off. She wanted to protest—she was fine, she didn’t need help—but the warmth was comforting. He was always doing that: looking out for everyone, even her.

She mumbled a protest, but he cut her off with a quiet, “Yeah, you keep saying that, and I keep ignoring you.” She smiled despite herself, turning her face away.

The van rolled to a stop and Piper tucked her hair behind her ear, sparking blue, nerves jumping, hope fighting with fear.

Ray’s voice was soft but steady. “Ready?”

Piper looked at him, electricity buzzing just beneath her skin—but this time, it felt contained. “Let’s go dig up destiny.”

He grinned, adrenaline sparking in his eyes, and for a second, Piper felt like maybe—just maybe—they could actually pull this off.

Under the faded light of the porch, Ray squinted at Piper’s phone as she fiddled with a playlist. The smell of damp earth mingled with suburban quiet.

“Okay,” Piper announced, planting her homemade flag in the dirt, “thirteen-year-old me started at the hydrangea, panicked when Mom yelled about holes, then bolted toward that fence post, dug for exactly four Shakira songs, and covered it with landscape fabric. So… triangle search pattern. Points here, here, and here.”

Jasper, trying to look helpful, added, “Shakira songs—so, like, twelve minutes total?”

“Yup,” Piper said, scrolling. “And I remember exactly which ones. ‘Hips Don’t Lie,’ ‘She Wolf,’ 'Beautiful Liar', and ‘Whenever, Wherever.’ Let’s keep it authentic.”

As the first thumping notes of 'Hips Don’t Lie' blared from Piper’s phone speaker, Ray let out a long-suffering groan. Jasper doubled over in exaggerated agony. Even the neighbors’ dog barked in protest.

“Can we not?” Ray pleaded, already regretting this entire mission. “I’ll develop tinnitus before we hit the dirt.”

Piper grinned. “You want the goods, you get the soundtrack. This is the authentic thirteen-year-old Piper Hart experience.”

Only Schwoz, hunched over his metal detector and bobbing his head to the beat, seemed unbothered. “I like this one! This is how I dance at weddings.”

Ray arched an eyebrow. “Remind me never to RSVP yes if you're attending.”

Piper dropped to her knees and started scooping up sod with her hands like a feral archaeologist. “Shake it and dig, boys.”

They got to work in rhythm—sort of. Jasper tried digging with a garden trowel he found under the deck, Ray commandeered the spade from Schwoz before he could injure himself, and Schwoz hummed along, perfectly on beat.

As the song played against the quiet of Swellview, Jasper made a face like he was being subjected to ancient torture.

Piper, unbothered, sang along. “I never really knew that she could dance like this—”

Ray shot her a warning look. “No. Don’t. If this song gets stuck in my head, I’m digging two holes—one for the doll, one for myself.”

Schwoz, to no one’s surprise, had already broken into a little hip shimmy over the patch of grass he was scanning.

The night air vibrated with the chorus, and somewhere in the neighborhood, a window slammed shut. Piper grinned. “That’s one song down, three to go!”

Backyard dirt was now flying to the rhythm of 'She Wolf', but across town, the mood at Luigi’s was less energetic and a lot more awkward.

Chapa had been forced into Piper drag—blonde wig, eyebrows arched, a glossy lip threatening to stick to her own scowl. She sat slumped in a red vinyl booth beside Kris and Jake Hart, who both looked determined to project an image of the world’s happiest, most aggressively normal Swellviewian family.

The only problem was that Chapa had never been normal, and she was pretty sure she was allergic to pretending.

Kris fussed with a napkin. “Chapa—sweetie—sit up straight, you’re supposed to be Piper. Piper doesn’t slouch, she scrolls aggressively.”

Jake, obvious as always, was already halfway through the breadsticks. “You know, I always forget how much I love Luigi’s. You hungry, Pipes?" he asked, emphasising Piper's name in an attempt to blend in. "Want to split a meatball mountain?”

Chapa, rolling her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck, scrolled on Piper’s back-up phone with calculated indifference. She could practically hear the real Piper in her head: Ugh, Dad, carbs are for children and politicians. Instead she said, deadpan, “Sure, Dad. Make it two. I’m stress-eating tonight.”

Kris shot her a look of pure, parental pride, apparently missing the sarcasm. “That’s my girl. Do you want to post a picture for your followers, honey?”

Chapa considered setting the phone on fire. Instead, she snapped a photo of her food, grimaced, and typed out a status: Family dinner, 10/10 anxiety, would recommend. From Piper’s account, of course.

Out the window, Chapa spotted a dark figure moving on a nearby rooftop—probably Bose, pretending to be a gargoyle. Her earpiece crackled.

Miles’s voice: “How’s Operation Impersonate Piper going?”

Chapa kept her lips barely moving. “If I have to listen to Jake tell one more story about the time he met Guy Fieri at a gas station, I’m blowing my cover and the restaurant.”

On the street, Chapa caught a glimpse of Mika pacing, eyes on her phone, ready to sound the alarm if anything suspicious happened. Bose’s silhouette did an awkward yoga pose, nearly slipping off the ledge.

Inside, Kris leaned in, eyes wide. “Do you think we ordered enough food? Or should I call the waiter and ask for more breadsticks? You know, in case you get hungry, Piper.”

Chapa took a long, slow breath. She could handle villains and blackouts and whatever Eclipse was up to, but Kris Hart on a stress spiral was another thing entirely.

She forced a smile, sweet as battery acid. “Honestly, Mom, if I eat one more breadstick, I’m gonna start speaking Italian.”

Jake, delighted, started to mangle an Italian accent. Chapa shot a glare at Miles through the window and muttered into the mic, “If you don’t come rescue me in five minutes, I’m going rogue.”

On the far side of the room, the waiter finally brought their drinks. Kris clinked her Shirley Temple against Chapa’s glass of apple juice. “To family, and good news, and Piper’s very bright future.”

Chapa raised her glass, because that’s what Piper would do, and because she figured, with the real action happening in the Hart’s backyard, the least she could do was survive the world’s most awkward dinner.

Her phone buzzed—the group chat.
Jasper: Update—Schwoz is doing an interpretive dance to Shakira. Send help.

Chapa snorted into her juice. At least somewhere, someone was suffering as much as she was.

'She Wolf' howled through the night air like a warning siren for bad decisions.

Schwoz was fully committed now—metal detector slung over one shoulder like a guitar, hips swaying, arms slicing the air as if summoning spirits. Jasper had long since stopped pretending to dig and was now half-buried himself, crouched in the grass like a broken lawn gnome, staring at Schwoz in disbelief.

“Is he… is he moonwalking?” Jasper asked.

Ray didn’t look up from the spade he was driving into the earth with quiet fury. “If I acknowledge it, it becomes real.”

Piper wiped sweat off her brow and kept digging, one hand scooping earth while the other adjusted the playlist volume. “This song was my anthem in middle school. I used to lip-sync it in the mirror with a hairbrush mic and zero shame.”

“I can tell,” Ray muttered. “You’re digging like a woman possessed.”

Piper pointed her dirty shovel at him. “She’s in disguise, Ray. There’s a she wolf in the closet. This is literature.”

Schwoz dropped to a dramatic crouch, wailing along to the bridge with startling accuracy. “AwooOOOOoooo!”

A porch light flicked on next door. Jasper winced. “Pretty sure Mrs. Nussbaum just filed a noise complaint.”

Piper didn’t miss a beat. “That’s her problem. This is sacred ground.”

As Schwoz’s howling faded into the last beats of the song, the mood in the backyard began to shift. Beyoncé’s voice slid through the air—smooth, moody, the opening to 'Beautiful Liar' swirling in the cool night. The four of them, suddenly quieter, fell back into digging. The laughter faded, replaced by the kind of focus that only comes when something big hangs in the balance.

Ray’s jaw set as he drove the spade deeper, the scrape of metal against earth sounding sharp in the hush. “All right. No more clowning. We need this evidence, and we need it tonight.”

Piper, still half-buried in mud, wiped her face with the back of her wrist. “You think they’re watching us right now?” Her voice was low, more thoughtful than scared.

Ray paused, scanning the fence line as if he could see through the dark. “If they are, they’ll get a great show. Schwoz moonwalking, Jasper eating dirt, and Captain Man playing landscaper.”

Jasper sat back, out of breath, but his voice was surprisingly earnest. "If the diversion is working, they won't be watching. They won't know we're here. What we're doing."

Ray nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Let’s hope so. We don’t get a second shot at this. If Eclipse or Blackout catch on—”

He didn’t have to finish. The night seemed to grow colder, the music thumping in the background, distant and unreal.

Schwoz brushed dirt from his forehead with the back of a shaking hand, his tone uncharacteristically grave. “We have to trust Danger Force. Trust Chapa. They know what’s at stake.”

Piper’s hands stilled on the shovel, her breath catching for a moment. “Yeah, well. So does Blackout. If he’s out there, he’ll know something’s off. He always knows.” There was no humor in her voice now, only a stubborn edge—a mix of fear and defiance that made her seem older in the half-light.

Ray glanced at her, reading more than she said. "We'll figure it out, Piper. No matter what happens."

For a second, nobody spoke. The only sounds were the metallic scrape of the spade, the soft churn of earth, and Shakira's voice rising and falling with a mournful ache—'Can we laugh about it…It's not worth our time.'

Jasper forced a lopsided smile. “If Henry and Charlotte can stay on the run this long, we can handle one night in the mud.”

Piper looked up, a streak of dirt across her cheek. “Let’s just get it done. For them.”

Ray gave a grim nod, then pressed his weight into the spade again. “Then dig.”

A few miles away, Miles crouched in the dark above Luigi’s, the glow of the neon sign turning his shoes a radioactive red. His communicator buzzed softly in his ear—Chapa grumbling about carbs, Mika whispering updates from her post down the block, Bose doing something acrobatic—and pointless—on the roof of the next building. But Miles was locked in, eyes narrowed at a shadow across the street.

The guy was tall, motionless, parked in the deepest pool of lamplight at the edge of the restaurant parking lot. He didn’t move. Didn’t smoke. Didn’t scroll on a phone. Just watched the windows, hood pulled low, hands deep in his coat.

Miles’s heart thudded. He whispered, “We’ve got company. Blackout, I think. Just… watching.”

Chapa’s voice, tiny through the communicator, was immediate, “Does he know I'm not really Piper?”

“No clue. He’s just standing there. Not moving, not… anything.” Miles’s breath frosted in the air. He slid lower behind the edge of the roof, every muscle tense. “Tell the others to keep the act going. We can’t let him see through it.”

He flicked his gaze to Mika, who was already texting furiously—no doubt relaying everything to Schwoz. Bose froze, mid-split, and tried to blend in with a chimney.

Inside Luigi’s, Kris was beaming, Jake was mangling the Italian accent again, and Chapa—good old Chapa—looked bored enough to chew her own arm off.

But outside, the threat was real, hovering at the edge of the light, silent and patient. Miles barely breathed. He watched Blackout watch the Harts, the feeling in his gut turning heavy and cold.

For now, it was just a waiting game.

But everyone knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

The moment Schwoz’s phone buzzed, Piper’s heart kicked against her ribs like it wanted out. She didn’t have to ask—she could read it on his face, the way his mouth twisted and his eyes darted up, urgent and tight.

“It’s Mika,” Schwoz said, voice suddenly thin, brittle as glass. “Blackout’s outside Luigi’s. Watching the restaurant.”

Piper’s breath turned sharp, the cold night air scraping her throat raw. Her hands, already smeared with dirt and shaking from adrenaline, dug harder. “Does he—does he know it’s not me?”

Schwoz just shook his head. “She says he hasn’t moved. Yet. But if he figures it out—he’ll come here.”

Piper tasted panic, copper and electric on her tongue. She looked at Ray—his jaw set, eyes scanning the shadowed fence line, body coiled and ready, like he’d throw himself between her and the night if he had to.

Jasper’s voice wobbled, small but steady, “Then we need to hurry. Like, right now.”

“Dig,” Ray ordered. “Fast.”

Piper clawed at the earth with bare hands, her shovel forgotten. Soil packed under her nails, cold and slick and unyielding, but she didn’t care. Her breath fogged the air. Her arms ached. Every sound seemed amplified: the distant screech of tires, the relentless beat of Shakira’s voice pulsing out of her phone, her own ragged breathing.

“You got me head over heels, there’s nothing left to fear…”

She wanted to scream at the song, to shut it off, to drown in anything but the tension suffocating her lungs—but she needed it, the rhythm, the memory of being thirteen and sure the world could be fixed with noise and a little rebellion.

Her chest tightened. Every second that passed, Blackout’s face flickered behind her eyes—watching, waiting, smart enough to sniff out their best lies.

Schwoz muttered nearby, voice barely audible over the music and the pounding in Piper’s ears. “How did you bury a doll this deep at thirteen?”

“Anger is cardio,” she gritted out, not stopping, not slowing.

The ground felt endless—like it would never give up its secrets. Piper’s arms shook. Dirt streaked her cheeks, sweat stinging her eyes.

Jasper’s breathing was fast and thin, his trowel barely making a dent. “What if—what if we’re digging in the wrong place?”

Piper almost snapped. “We’re not. I remember. I have to remember.”

Her knuckles cracked against something solid and slick in the soil. For one terrifying moment, Piper thought she’d imagined it—a root, a stone, her memory playing tricks after all these years. But then her fingertips caught the ridged edge of landscape fabric, followed by old plastic, and her heart leapt so violently she almost dropped her shovel.

Her voice broke, half-strangled and hoarse. “I—I’ve got something. I think—”

The others scrambled closer, but in Piper’s world, the moment narrowed to her hands and the earth and the electric panic in her chest. She clawed at the mud, tearing through the tangled roots and wet layers of fabric until finally—finally—she wrenched the Fresno Girl free.

The doll looked awful: hair matted, dress stained, face smeared with mud and years of secrets. But it was her. Piper held the battered relic to her chest, chest heaving, feeling for a split second like she was thirteen again—small, angry, invisible, and desperately hoping someone would come looking.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until her vision blurred, drops streaking through the dirt on her cheeks.

Schwoz and Jasper hovered close, both holding their breath, but Piper barely heard them. Her fingers shook as she peeled back the layers, working on muscle memory and adrenaline. The final piece of fabric fell away, and there it was: a tiny, battered micro-drive, wrapped in foil and taped to the doll’s polyester dress. Beneath it, folded and yellowed from time and moisture, was a scrap of paper—her brother’s handwriting, spiky and familiar, staring up at her through the grime.

Pipes: If you’re reading this, I owe you a dozen Fresno Girls —Henry

For a second, Piper just stared, her breath gone. All the ache, all the fear, all the sharp-edged hope she’d buried with this doll punched through her at once. Henry’s voice was in her head—teasing, protective, so far away but suddenly right here. She pressed the note to her chest, clutching it like it might anchor her to the ground.

Ray’s hand landed gently on her shoulder, grounding her in the present. “Piper?”

She couldn’t find her voice. Instead, she shook her head, a helpless, choked laugh breaking through her tears. “He remembered. He really—he left it for me.”

Jasper, eyes wide and shining in the porchlight, let out a shaky whoop. “We did it. We actually—Piper, you did it.”

He pulled her into a hug which she returned, burying her face in his chest. For one impossibly rare, suspended moment, Piper let herself believe they were safe, that they’d made it in time.

Then Schwoz’s phone buzzed again—this time so violently it nearly jumped out of his pocket. The sound snapped the group back to the cold, razor-edged present.

Schwoz fumbled for it, his fingers clumsy with mud and adrenaline. His eyes darted over the screen, and his face went pale. He held it out so they could all see the words on the group chat from Mika: 'Lasagna disaster.'

Piper felt every nerve in her body light up with dread. The world that had narrowed to a doll and a note blew wide open again, every danger flooding back.

Jasper’s voice was a whisper, barely more than a breath. “That’s bad, right? That’s… really bad.”

Ray was already on his feet, all business. “We move. Now. Schwoz, get the drive and the note. Jasper, help Piper—”

But Piper was already scrambling up, clutching the Fresno Girl doll and Henry’s note like lifelines. Her tears dried in an instant, replaced by an almost feverish clarity.

“What do we do?” she demanded, voice sharp, urgency cutting through the leftover ache in her chest. “If Blackout’s coming, where do we go?”

Schwoz, pocketing the micro-drive and note with trembling hands, said, “We go to the van. Get to the Nest. Miles and Bose will try to lead him away. Mika will cover us.”

Ray nodded, already scanning the fence line, looking for shadows in the night. “No mistakes. Nobody splits up. Piper, you stay right by me.”

"What about my parents?" She asked sharply.

Ray didn’t hesitate. “Chapa’s with them—she can handle herself, and Danger Force will keep watch. We trust the plan. Your parents are safer with the decoy for now than if we try to move everyone and risk crossing Blackout.”

Schwoz nodded quickly, wiping his hands on his jacket. “Mika’s watching the exits. Miles can teleport them if he has to. We have to trust them, Piper. We have to go—now. Before Blackout finds us here and swipes the drive."

Piper’s mouth went dry, her mind racing through worst-case scenarios, but Ray’s voice—firm, focused, unwavering—cut through the panic.

“They’re counting on us to get this out,” he said, quieter now, just for her. “We keep the evidence safe and get to the Nest. That’s how we protect them—and everyone else.”

Schwoz tugged on her arm, pulling her toward the side gate. Jasper scooped up Piper’s backpack and shoved it into her hands.

“We’ve got you,” Jasper promised, voice trembling but fierce. “Let’s go, Pipes.”

Piper swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, blinking away the last of her tears. She tucked the Fresno Girl doll under her arm, the note gripped tight in her hand.

As they ran for the gate, Ray fell in step beside her, so close she could feel the tension radiating off him. Every instinct screamed at her to look back—to see if her parents were safe, to make sure this wasn’t some horrible mistake—but she forced herself to keep moving. Trust the plan. Trust Ray. Trust Danger Force.

Behind them, the cold yard and churned earth faded into darkness. Ahead, the world was suddenly all headlights and adrenaline, the van idling in the street, ready for flight.

Piper followed her friends with her heart in her throat, clutching the proof that could save her city—if only they could outrun what was coming next.

The dining room of Luigi’s exploded into noise the instant Blackout vanished from the sidewalk.

Chapa barely had time to mutter, “Uh-oh,” before the front windows shattered inward, glass spraying across red-checked tablecloths and startled families. Three Eclipse Industries agents, all in matching black, swept in like a SWAT team on a caffeine bender.

Kris screamed. Jake ducked under the table, breadstick still clutched in one hand.

Chapa didn’t hesitate—she launched herself over the table, planted in front of Kris and Jake, and braced herself. “Get down!” she snapped, voice sharper than her fists.

Mika’s voice crackled in her earpiece: “Chapa, three agents—one at the door, two flanking from the alley! Miles, Bose, move in now!”

One agent lunged for Kris. Chapa met him with a flying elbow and a mouthful of Piper’s best snark. “Touch her and you’ll need a dentist who accepts supervillain insurance!”

Another agent yanked Jake out by the collar. Chapa spun, grabbed a pepper grinder, and winged it across the room, nailing the guy in the ear. “Sorry, that was extra spicy!”

Kris, trembling but fierce, threw her napkin like a white flag and then—unexpectedly—hurled her water glass at a charging agent, buying Chapa just enough time to step between the Harts and the chaos.

Miles burst through the kitchen doors, teleporting across the room in a blur of blue light, fists up. “Back off the pasta, pal!” He dropped an agent with a perfectly-placed roundhouse that sent spaghetti flying everywhere.

Mika darted in through the shattered front, ready for a sonic scream. “Chapa, get the Harts to the back! We’ll hold them off.”

Chapa grabbed Kris and Jake by the arms and hustled them toward the emergency exit, dodging plates and flying silverware as agents tried to close in. Jake tripped and sprawled over a pile of marinara-soaked breadsticks, pulling Kris down with him.

“Jake! Get up! This is not the time to carbo-load!” Chapa barked, half-dragging them both.

Bose dropped from the ceiling—literally—having phased through the upstairs balcony. “Go! I’ve got the front!” He snapped an agent’s wrist, then tossed the guy over a chair.

Chapa looked over her shoulder. One agent reached for Kris—Chapa snatched a serving tray and frisbee’d it into his face, sending him reeling. “Sorry! No tip for you!”

The kitchen was a war zone of boiling sauce, angry waiters, and chaos, but Chapa bulldozed through, dragging the Harts behind her.

“Keep moving!” Bose shouted, his telekinesis causing objects to fly. “I’ll cover you!”

As they shoved through the back door into the alley, alarms blared and sirens wailed in the distance—backup, maybe, or more trouble coming.

Kris clung to Chapa’s arm, breathless and wild-eyed. “Is this… normal for you all?"

Chapa gave her a grim smile, wiping marinara off her sleeve. “It’s a Tuesday.”

She scanned the alley—clear for now, but danger could come from anywhere.

Behind them, the restaurant was a mess of shouts, broken glass, and Danger Force fighting for their lives—and for the Hart family.

Chapa squared her shoulders, jaw set. “Nobody gets left behind,” she muttered, ready to fight anyone who tried.

And as the city roared around her, Chapa waited for the rest of the team—knowing the night was far from over.

“Wait,” Piper called out, skidding to a stop just as the Man-Van came into view at the curb, its headlights cutting through the night like searchlights.

Schwoz, Ray, and Jasper all turned back to look at her—panting, dirty, wide-eyed. They had seconds, maybe less. But something in her chest burned too loud to ignore.

“If Blackout is coming,” she said, her voice louder than she expected, “he’ll be after me only. I’m the one he’s watching. I’m the one he wants.”

Ray’s face darkened. “Piper—”

“No. Just listen.” She clutched the Fresno Girl doll tighter, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “You take the evidence. Get it back to the Man’s Nest. Lock it down. Make it count. I’ll stay here. I’ll face him.”

A long, stunned beat of silence.

Schwoz blinked as if she’d just announced she was taking up skydiving. “That is—how you say—deeply unhinged.”

Jasper’s voice cracked. “Pipes, have you inhaled too much dirt?”

But Ray—Ray didn’t say anything right away. He stared at her, eyes sharp and unreadable, the kind of look he got right before a fight or a really bad idea.

Piper pushed forward, words spilling fast and furious. “He’s after me. Not anyone else. If I split off, if I draw him away, you’ll have time to get the drive away safely. Time to figure out the next move.”

“No,” Ray said, finally. Firm. Absolute. “Not happening.”

“I can handle it,” she said, even as her voice trembled. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not scared of him.”

“You should be!” Ray snapped, his voice edged with panic. “He’s not just some thug in a ski mask. He’s Blackout. He eats souls, Piper!”

“And you think I don’t know that?” she fired back. “I know what he did to Bill. I felt what it did to me when he was close. I know what I’m walking into. But this—this is my fault. This power, this target on my back—”

Ray stepped toward her, closing the distance in a heartbeat. “You do not get to decide this alone.”

Schwoz hovered by the van, eyes flicking toward the shadows. “We are out of time! Either we run, or we fight. But we don’t separate!”

Jasper looked between them, desperate. “Please don’t do something stupid. Please.”

But Piper stood her ground, fists clenched at her sides, her heart shattering under the weight of her choice. “I’m not doing this to be reckless. I’m doing it to protect you. All of you. This is the only thing I can control right now.”

Ray stared at her—really stared at her, then shook his head. "No. If you stay—I stay."

Piper froze.

“We don’t split up,” Ray said, quieter now. “Not again. You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

And just like that, the heat in her chest cracked. The fear, the guilt, the exhaustion—it all twisted into something else. Something heavier. Something… safer.

Piper swallowed, blinking fast. "Jasper, go with Schwoz to secure the evidence. If any Eclipse agents try to intercept, you can protect him."

Jasper hesitated, torn, his eyes darting from Piper to Ray to the van like he was waiting for someone to tell him this wasn’t real—that they hadn’t just found the thing that could save everything, only to be forced into a goodbye they weren’t ready for.

But Piper stepped toward him, calm even as her insides shook. “You’re fast, Jasp. Faster than you look. And you’ve seen how these agents fight—you’ve fought back before. You can get Schwoz and the drive out safely.”

She reached out, pressed the Fresno Girl doll into Schwoz’s arms. “You protect that like your life depends on it.”

“It does,” Schwoz muttered, clutching it like it was made of uranium.

Piper turned to Jasper, voice steady. “And you protect him.”

Jasper gave her a look she hadn’t seen since he first returned from Dystopia—the look of someone who understood what had to be done, even if it terrified him. He nodded once, jaw tight. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

“You’ll make it,” she said. “Just don’t stop running until you’re safe.”

Schwoz grabbed the van door, casting a last wide-eyed glance at Piper. “Please do not get vaporized. I am very emotionally fragile right now.”

Piper cracked the faintest smile. “Go.”

They slipped into the van, doors slamming shut. The engine growled to life. Jasper gave her one last look through the window—muddy, wide-eyed, but full of resolve—before Schwoz floored it. The Man-Van peeled away into the night, tires shrieking, headlights vanishing into the dark.

And then it was just her and Ray.

Alone on the sidewalk. The wind sharp. The night too quiet.

Ray stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “You know this is crazy, right?”

“Completely,” she said. “But it will work.”

He looked out at the empty street, jaw clenched, every inch of him braced for what might come next. “He’ll show. He always does.”

Piper nodded, heart pounding. “Then let’s make sure he regrets it.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, without breaking eye contact with the darkness, Ray popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

Snap.

His body lit up in a golden glow, the familiar ripple of energy surging through his frame as his clothes shifted, hardened, reshaped. His shoulders squared, his stance rooted deeper into the pavement as Captain Man took his place beside her—battle-ready and impossible to ignore.

Piper swallowed hard, her breath catching for a second—not from fear, but from the sheer surreal weight of it.

She wasn’t a kid anymore.

And this wasn’t a drill.

The first thing Piper registered was the cold—deeper than weather, more invasive than fear. It crawled inside her bones as the last light on the street guttered out, plunging everything into suffocating black.

Blackout materialized from the dark itself, red eyes gleaming. This close, he radiated hunger—like gravity, like pressure on her lungs. She could feel her heart stumbling, fighting to keep rhythm.

Ray stood between her and Blackout, jaw set, but even Captain Man’s confidence felt small against this kind of darkness.

“Give me the drive,” Blackout said, voice too calm for the violence underneath.

“It’s gone,” Ray snapped. “You’re wasting your time.”

Blackout smirked. “You still think time’s on your side?”

He moved. One moment he was standing there—the next, Ray was airborne, smashed into a parked car so hard the metal shrieked. The impact cratered the hood. Ray groaned, staggered up, and Blackout was on him again, shadows seething from his hands as he clawed at Ray’s chest, trying to rip straight through.

Piper screamed, let power rip from her hands—blue lightning lancing out, sparking wild, her whole body burning. The bolt tore Blackout off Ray, but only for a breath. He landed, twisted, and his eyes met hers.

“The drive is meaningless without the right hands.” He tilted his head, and the darkness thickened, leaking out like smoke. “It’s you I need. Not them. Not Captain Man. Not even your brother.”

He paused, a shadowy smile curving his mouth. “The little diversion at Luigi’s? Cute. Chapa plays you well, but I knew the second I saw her.” He leaned in, voice soft and poisonous. “No one can fake you, Piper Hart. Not when I know your every heartbeat.”

A chill raced down Piper’s spine. For a split second, terror hollowed her out. She forced herself not to flinch, not to let it show—though she knew he saw it anyway.

Blackout’s smile widened, satisfied. “You can run, you can hide, you can send your friends to play your part, but I’ll always find you. You belong in the dark, Piper. With me.”

She gathered every scrap of defiance she had and forced her voice steady. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He laughed quietly, as if she’d just proven his point.

Piper struck—throwing raw electricity at Blackout. The bolt hit, searing his coat, but he just smiled wider.

“You’re powerful, Piper,” he murmured, voice sliding into her skull. “But you’re so, so lost. You’re afraid of what you could become.”

He circled her, shadows reaching out like fingers. “But I could show you. If you stood by my side, I’d teach you things no one else could. Make you unstoppable.”

“Not interested,” Piper spat, throwing another lightning burst. He caught it in his palm, absorbed it, and let it slither up his arm like it belonged to him.

“Oh, but you are,” Blackout taunted. “Every time you let yourself lose control, you touch the edge of it. You want to know how deep your power goes. You want to know what I know.”

His voice grew sharper, more urgent. “You were never meant to be like them. You were meant for more. For everything.”

Piper’s skin crawled. She felt the pull—like the darkness was inside her, hungry, whispering. For a split second, she wavered. But Ray’s battered voice cut through the haze.

“She’s nothing like you,” Ray spat, struggling to his feet. “And she never will be.”

Blackout’s eyes flared. “We’ll see.”

He lunged, seizing Piper by the wrist, shadows burning. Piper screamed—pain, memory, power sparking wild. Her vision split—images of herself, lost and monstrous, a world burned by her hands.

With a howl, she summoned everything left in her. The block erupted with blinding lightning, the shockwave throwing Blackout across the street and into the pavement, cracks spiderwebbing beneath his body.

She fell to her knees, gasping, hands raw and smoking.

Blackout rose, face twisted with rage but still—impossibly—smiling. “You’re wasting your gifts, Piper Hart. But you’ll come around. You always do, in the end.”

Piper tried to push to her feet, but her arms trembled under her own weight. The lightning surge had drained her—too much, too fast. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she couldn’t lift her hands.

Ray didn’t wait.

He charged.

Captain Man’s fist collided with Blackout’s face in a brutal arc that echoed off the buildings. It sent Blackout stumbling—but he didn’t fall. Ray followed with a spinning kick to the ribs, then ducked low under a sweep of shadow and drove his shoulder into Blackout’s chest like a battering ram, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into a lamppost hard enough to dent the steel.

Blackout lashed out, claws of shadow ripping across Ray’s torso. Sparks flew as they scraped against his suit—but Ray didn’t stop. He took the hit, absorbed the pain, and hammered his elbow into Blackout’s throat.

“You want her?” Ray snarled, slamming his fist into Blackout’s stomach with enough force to dent steel. “Then you fight me.”

Blackout hissed, shadows curling protectively across his torso like armor. He swung back, claws slicing through the air. One caught Ray across the face—raking down his mask—but it barely fazed him. The cut should’ve opened skin, drawn blood, knocked him back. But Ray, unbleeding and unbroken, barely flinched.

He grabbed Blackout’s wrist, twisted it until something cracked, then drove a knee into his side.

“I’ve fought monsters,” Ray growled, eyes blazing. “You’re just another parasite playing dress-up.”

Blackout staggered, but not for long. He let out a guttural snarl and exploded in a wave of shadow, forcing Ray back with sheer force. Captain Man skidded across the asphalt, rolled, and came up swinging.

Piper, still on her knees, watched in stunned silence as Ray and Blackout collided again—this time in a flurry of movement too fast to track. Every punch Ray threw was meant to end it. Every counter from Blackout came with that unnatural, slippery grace—like fighting smoke wrapped around a blade.

Ray landed a powerful uppercut that snapped Blackout’s head back. He followed with a crushing hook to the ribs that knocked the breath from the villain’s lungs.

Blackout spat blood—dark, shimmering, wrong.

“You’re persistent,” he rasped. “Just like Henry.”

Ray’s fist paused mid-air.

Blackout smiled, sharp and cruel. “How is your golden boy, by the way? Still bleeding out in the dark? Still pretending he could ever protect anyone from me?”

Ray’s face twisted—not with rage, but something deeper. Grief. Fury. Resolve.

He slammed his forearm into Blackout’s throat, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against a streetlight. “Say his name again,” Ray snarled, voice like a blade. "I dare you."

Blackout’s shadows surged, wrapping around Ray’s body like tentacles, trying to crush him. He gasped as the pressure cracked against his body. But he held on.

“Ray!” Piper shouted, finally on her feet, eyes glowing.

She surged forward, her hand glowing white-hot with lightning. With one desperate scream, she flung a bolt straight into the shadows binding him. The blast ripped through the streetlight, shattered glass rained down, and the shadows hissed—evaporating like mist in sunlight.

Ray dropped, landing on one knee, coughing—but alive.

Blackout fell with him, stunned.

Piper didn’t stop. She ran to Ray, electricity dancing across her arms.

He looked up at her, grinning like an idiot. “Nice timing.”

“Always,” she said breathlessly.

They turned back to Blackout together.

The villain rose slowly, chest heaving, his smile faded now. His face was bloodied, and his steps were disjointed. Shadows curled defensively around his shoulders—but it was clear: he wasn’t expecting to bleed tonight.

“You think this is a victory?” he rasped. “You’re just stalling. You don’t even know what they’re after. What you are.”

Piper lifted her hand. Electricity crackled in her palm. “Maybe not. But I know I’m not yours.”

Ray raised his fists again, beside her. “Round three, or are you finally smart enough to crawl away?”

Blackout looked between them—Captain Man bruised but unbroken, and Piper Hart burning with the kind of power he’d kill to control.

For the first time… he hesitated.

Then his mouth curled again—bloody, cruel, but knowing. “This isn’t over.”

He began to fade, shadows curling up his limbs, swallowing him like smoke in reverse.

But just before he vanished completely, his voice slid through the darkness—soft, almost intimate.

“They’ll come for you soon,” Blackout said, eyes locked on Piper. “Not because of what you’ve done—but because of what’s inside you.”

And then he was gone.

Vanished.

The silence he left behind was deeper than any before.

Piper didn’t breathe for a long moment. Her hand slowly dropped, lightning dying on her fingertips. Her legs threatened to buckle, but she stayed upright.

Ray stood beside her, silent and steady, until finally he broke the tension.

“That guy sucks.”

Piper laughed—sharp and raw and too close to tears. “Yeah,” she whispered, voice cracked. “He really, really does.”

She felt the adrenaline draining out of her, leaving nothing but ache and tremors. Her knees buckled.

Ray turned to catch her, but the street was already tilting, the world going fuzzy at the edges. Her hands hung limp at her sides, electricity flickering out.

“Hey—Piper?” Ray’s voice sounded far away, worried, already reaching for her.

She tried to answer, but her lips barely moved.

The world dissolved around her—streetlights, asphalt, Ray’s face, all swallowed by a tide of black.

And Piper fell, finally, mercifully, into the dark.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 | Sploogonite Extract

Ray barely had time to react—one minute Piper was standing, the next she went limp. He caught her before she hit the street, cradling her against his chest. Her breathing was shallow, her eyelids fluttering, and every muscle in her body trembled from the fight.

“Piper—hey—stay with me,” he muttered, panic trying to edge in.

A pop of energy and a sudden gust of wind. “Yo!” Miles appeared, slightly off-balance, clutching his phone. “Sorry, I—whoa. What happened? Is Piper—?”

Ray shot him a look. “You missed Blackout. He nearly killed us.”

Miles took in the scorched pavement, the broken glass, the way Ray was gripping Piper like she might vanish. “Dang. I knew I should’ve ignored that red light.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t have teleported five minutes earlier?”

“I was helping the others get away!” Miles protested, then glanced at Piper. His bravado slipped. “Is she—?”

“She burned herself out. Completely. She needs to get back to the Nest.”

Miles nodded, all business now. “Everyone’s there—Jake and Kris are stress-eating in the kitchen, Jasper looks like he’s going to pass out, and Schwoz is yelling at a USB stick. The drive’s safe.”

Ray’s shoulders loosened just a fraction. “Good. Let’s go.”

Miles crouched, hand on Ray’s shoulder, the other hovering awkwardly over Piper’s head. “Brace for teleport. Three, two—”

Before he could finish, Ray grunted, “Just do it, Miles.”

Miles snapped his fingers. Light, heat, a whoosh of air—and the ruined street vanished.

Ray blinked. He was standing in the Man’s Nest, Piper still limp in his arms. The room went silent. Everyone stared.

Piper’s parents were on him in seconds.

Kris let out a choked sound as Ray gently passed Piper into her arms, and suddenly the weight was gone from Ray’s chest—but not the pressure.

“Oh, baby,” Kris whispered, sinking to her knees. She pulled Piper into her lap like she was six years old again, brushing sweaty hair from her daughter’s dirt-streaked face. “You’re okay, you’re okay, we’ve got you…”

Jake hovered helplessly, his hands twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to touch Piper or pray over her. “She doesn’t look okay. Ray—what happened?”

Ray crouched beside them, throat tight. “She pushed too hard. Used everything she had.”

For parents who’d only tonight learned the truth of what their kids were up against, it was too much.

Kris’s eyes shot up, red-rimmed and fierce. “You let her?” Her voice cracked mid-sentence. “You let her fight that monster? It’s already bad enough he’s the reason Henry’s in hiding—now Piper’s next?”

Ray didn’t flinch, but he didn’t argue either. Because the worst part was—he hadn’t let her. She’d chosen. Like Henry always had. Like Charlotte always had. Like he’d taught them to.

Still, it didn’t feel like the kind of thing a mother needed to hear right now.

“I tried to stop her,” he said softly. “But she wasn’t gonna run.”

Kris looked down again, clutching Piper tighter. Her shoulders shook.

Jake crouched on the other side, brushing Piper’s hair back. “She’s breathing,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “That’s good. That’s gotta be good.”

Ray rose slowly, his legs heavy with exhaustion, guilt clinging to him like wet clothes. The Nest wasn’t quiet—far from it—but everything felt dulled, like the world was under a blanket of static and smoke.

He scanned the room again—not the screens or the tech, but the people.

His team.

Chapa was slouched on a beanbag, her knuckles resting on a melting ice pack. She looked like she hadn’t moved in about twenty minutes.

“Hey,” Ray said softly, walking over. “You still breathing?”

She gave him a slow, sideways look. “Just waiting for someone to put me in a coma so I can skip the recovery phase.”

He crouched next to her, careful not to jostle Bose, who had half his body draped over her lap and was snoring like a dying accordion.

“You took the hit for Piper's parents,” Ray said. “That was solid.”

Chapa looked away. “Yeah, well. They were my parents, even if for just one evening. Jake twice now.”

Ray gave a ghost of a smirk. “Still. Proud of you.”

She blinked, startled. He rarely said it out loud.

He patted Bose on the back gently. “And this guy?”

Chapa didn’t miss a beat. “Tried to backflip off a dumpster and landed in an alley full of garlic knots. He’s fine.”

Ray exhaled through his nose. “Good. I’d hate to explain that one to his mom.”

He moved next to Mika, crouching again. “You good?”

She nodded slowly, her arms still around her knees. “Just tired.”

Ray watched her for a second, then offered her a peanut butter sandwich from Kris and Jake's growing mountain. She took it with trembling hands.

“You didn’t break,” he said. “You kept everyone moving.”

“I thought I was gonna puke,” Mika whispered.

“Yeah,” Ray said. “That’s how you know you did it right.”

He turned to look at Miles, who was pacing relentlessly nearby, phone pressed to his ear as he filled Buddy in on everything.

Finally, Ray drifted over to the console, every step dragging a little more than the last. Schwoz was hunched over the keyboard like he’d fused with it, and Jasper sat beside him, pale and twitching, his hoodie stained with sweat and streaked mud.

“What’s the status?” Ray asked, voice harsher than he intended.

Schwoz didn’t flinch. He just shook his head without looking up. “This encryption is nasty. Bill Evil-level nasty. I don’t even know half the algorithms he used—this is a nightmare. He really was paranoid.”

Ray leaned forward, eyes scanning the screen. Rows of gibberish blinked at him, line after line of nonsense locked behind shifting firewalls.

“It’s like trying to pick a lock with a spoon,” Schwoz muttered. “The whole system resets every two hours. Every guess makes it worse. And the metadata—some of it’s tagged to the old Dystopia signature. Henry and Charlotte must’ve been trying to work through this for days.”

Ray exhaled. “But you can crack it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Schwoz replied. “But I will.”

Ray nodded and turned his attention to Jasper. The kid looked worse up close—mud in his hair, dark circles under his eyes, hands trembling even as he tried to still them.

“You lost them?” Ray asked.

Jasper looked up, and for a second, Ray saw it—the real fear behind his usually calm face. Something raw. Unmasked.

“Barely,” Jasper said, voice low and frayed. “They were everywhere. Black vans, rooftops, alleys—I swear one of them was clinging to the bumper like a cartoon villain. Schwoz was driving like it was Mario Kart.”

Schwoz grunted. “I resent that. My kart never flipped over a fire hydrant.”

Jasper ignored him. “We ditched the van two blocks from here. It was leaking coolant and dragging sparks. We teleported the rest of the way. One of them—” he swallowed, “—one of them almost had me. I felt his hand grab my hoodie.”

Ray’s heart clenched. “What happened?”

“Miles yanked us out just in time,” Jasper said, voice quieter now. “If he’d been even a second later…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Ray stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Jasper tensed under the touch, then exhaled, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he’d finally been given permission to feel how close it had been.

“The drive never left my hand,” Jasper said, almost to himself. “Not once. I kept it safe.”

Ray squeezed his shoulder. “Good work.”

Jasper nodded. Barely.

Ray lingered another moment before stepping back. He looked at the mess of wires, screens, and tools on the console, then back at the two of them—Jasper still shaking, Schwoz still muttering code like prayers.

“You did more than good,” Ray said. “You saved all of us.”

And this time, neither of them tried to brush it off.

Ray’s gaze slid back to Piper—her face too pale, still streaked with dirt, lips chapped, hair tangled in a wild halo across her mother’s lap. She looked breakable. Like if he blinked, she’d vanish. Like if he looked away too long, she might not come back.

The ache in his chest was almost physical.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but Kris’s voice stopped him.

It was barely a whisper, a fractured lullaby sung through trembling breath. Words meant only for Piper. Maybe for herself. Ray didn’t know the tune. But it felt old. Like something she hadn’t sung in years. Something scraped up from a time when monsters were under beds—not tearing up streets.

He pressed the heel of his hand to his brow, the weight in his skull pressing in from all sides. The light from the overheads felt too bright. The Nest too big and too quiet, like it was waiting to hear bad news.

Kris’s voice broke mid-note.

She looked up, her eyes bloodshot, her hands still clutching her daughter’s. “Don’t let this happen again,” she whispered.

There was no accusation in her voice—just fear. The hollowed-out desperation of a mother who’d already lost one child to the dark, and now watched her second drift just out of reach.

Ray’s jaw clenched. He wanted to tell her yes. Wanted to swear it.

But he couldn’t.

Not truthfully.

He looked around the room—scanned the shape of his team, his people. Chapa half-asleep against a wall now, arms folded like a shield. Mika still curled into herself, the sandwich left untouched in her lap. Miles hunched in a corner chair, eyes distant. Bose out cold. Jasper haunted. Schwoz buried in code.

They were alive. Barely.

They’d survived tonight.

Now they had to survive what came next.

Ray turned toward the console, his boots whispering against the floor. He crouched beside Schwoz, who hadn’t moved. Just clicked. Typed. Paused. Repeated.

The monitor flashed another error. Ray couldn’t tell if it was progress or defeat.

“Keep at it,” Ray said. His voice was rough now. Tight. “Whatever’s on that drive—it better be worth it.”

Schwoz didn’t look up. His fingers flew across the keyboard, stopping only to scribble something on a Post-it that didn’t make sense to anyone but him. “It’s going to take time, Ray. Days. Maybe more.”

Ray clenched his jaw. “We don’t have days.”

“You want fast, ask a hacker,” Schwoz muttered. “You want right, you leave me alone.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed at the screen—lines of code stacked like bricks, shifting under a virtual firewall that pulsed every few seconds. The entire thing looked alive. Hostile.

Of course Bill Evil wouldn’t make it easy. Nothing about this had ever been easy.

Ray folded his arms, his shoulders aching under the weight of armor, sweat, and worry. He hated waiting. He hated stillness. But most of all, he hated the feeling creeping into his chest—that whatever was coming, they weren’t ready for it.

“Do what you need to do,” Ray said finally. “Just keep going.”

Schwoz nodded, already lost to the machine again.

Ray stepped back, his gaze drifting across the Nest one last time. Jasper had slumped into the couch across from the main console, hoodie pulled tight around his head, legs tucked under him like he was trying to disappear. Jake had curled up beside Kris and Piper, their little corner now more than a family reunion.

Ray sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Alright,” he said, loud enough to draw what little attention the team had left. “We’re done for tonight.”

Heads turned, slow and sluggish.

“We got the drive. Everyone's safe—for now. Schwoz will work on decrypting it, but it’s going to take a while. So we’re not gonna burn out waiting for it to unlock.”

Miles blinked at him. “You’re sending us home?”

“You need rest,” Ray said. “All of you.”

“What about Piper?” Mika asked, voice hoarse.

Ray looked toward the corner—Kris was still holding her daughter like she might vanish if she let go. Jake had one arm protectively around both of them. Piper hadn’t moved. Not since the fight. Not since she collapsed.

“She stays here,” Ray said. “Her parents too. And Jasper and Schwoz. The Hart house is a mess, and I want everyone under one roof until I know Eclipse isn’t circling back.”

He met each member’s eyes in turn. “You did your jobs tonight. You held the line. You got the evidence. Now go home. Sleep. We’ll regroup tomorrow.”

There was a long pause. Then, one by one, they nodded.

Miles was the first to move, teleporting Bose and Chapa without another word. Mika lingered for a few more minutes, giving Kris and Jake a silent wave before disappearing with a shimmer of light once her brother came back to get her.

Ray stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle. Letting the weight of what came next press into his bones. Piper was still unconscious. The drive still sealed. Eclipse still out there.

He pulled out his phone.

For the first time all night, he remembered to check it. Four missed calls from Credenza. Two texts, both read but unanswered. The last one timestamped just after midnight: Are you safe? Just tell me you're safe.

Ray stared at it. Then typed: I’m okay. Won’t be home tonight. Can’t leave the Nest. We have the drive. Piper’s here. She’s... not awake yet.

He hovered for a second. Then added: I’m sorry.

He hit send.

The phone screen dimmed in his hand, then locked. He slipped it back into his pocket and exhaled.

Schwoz hadn’t moved from the console. The screen still flashed with encrypted blocks, mocking them.

Ray walked back to the center of the room. Kris had laid Piper down on the other couch, one hand still resting gently on her daughter’s shoulder, as if afraid to let go.

“She’s stable,” Kris said, not looking up. “Still breathing steady. But she hasn’t stirred.”

“She will,” Ray said. It wasn’t confidence. It was conviction.

Jake looked up at him. “We’ll sleep here. If that’s alright.”

“Already planned on it,” Ray said. “You’re safer here tonight. You all are.”

He glanced toward the hallway—one of the spare rooms had bunks, the other had blankets. It wasn’t much, but it would hold them.

The gavel struck once.

“Case dismissed,” the judge declared, voice clipped and triumphant.

Piper stood at the center of the courtroom, breathless but proud, clutching her notepad like a trophy. The gallery erupted into applause—Schwoz threw confetti, Miss Shapen was openly sobbing into a tissue, and even the bailiff gave her a thumbs up.

“Miss Hart,” the judge said, smiling down at her, “you’ve got a future.”

Piper opened her mouth to reply—

—and the ceiling cracked.

She blinked.

The skylight above had spiderwebbed in silence. Dust fell in slow motion. The lights dimmed. One by one, the courtroom spectators flickered out, like power cut to a row of TVs.

The wood of the floor groaned under her feet.

“Miss Hart?” the judge asked again—but now his voice was warped. Stretched. Like it was underwater. His face began to melt—no, blur—until it wasn’t a man at all, just a shape with a black, oozing face and a voice like static.

Piper took a step back. The walls were… breathing. The benches were gone. Her desk had decayed into a pile of ash. Miss Shapen’s tears were now black streaks running down the walls.

The lights cut out.

She was alone.

No courtroom. No people. Just the sharp click of her own footsteps echoing into a void.

“Hello?” she called out.

Nothing.

Then, faint—just at the edge of hearing—a laugh.

She turned.

There, at the far end of the hallway—Henry.

Alive. Real. Worn and older, yes, but unmistakably him. He stood there in his old jacket, face tired, eyes warm.

“Henry!” Piper ran toward him, heart sprinting in her chest. “Oh my god—Henry!”

He opened his arms.

She crashed into him, clutching him like an anchor, tears soaking the collar of his shirt.

“I missed you,” she whispered. “I’m so scared. Everything’s wrong. I don’t know what I’m supposed to—”

She pulled back.

It wasn’t Henry's face.

Red eyes. Crooked smile. Dark mask stretched tight over his face. Blackout.

“Boo,” he whispered.

Piper stumbled back, screaming. Her foot hit nothing—there was no ground.

Just black.

And falling.

She crashed onto cold asphalt—Swellview again, but twisted. The sky bled light like an infected wound. Everything was warped. Bent. Burning in silence.

The shadows oozed from the sewers. They moved like they knew her name.

Blackout rose from the center of the intersection, the way a nightmare does—without warning. The shape of a man stitched from nightmares and smoke.

“Found me,” he whispered, and she stumbled back.

The buildings around them twisted, warping. Swellview flickered into something more ancient—stone, smoke, black glass. A world Piper didn’t recognize. Or didn’t want to.

Blackout stepped toward her, hands open.

“Don’t run,” he said. “You always come back.”

“I’m not like you,” she hissed.

“Not yet,” he agreed.

The sky above them cracked—literal fractures in the air, glowing veins of red and white. Piper looked up, saw faces staring down. Henry. Charlotte. Ray. Schwoz. Jasper. All distorted. Watching her through the rift like they were behind glass.

“They can’t help you,” Blackout whispered in her ear.

She flinched—he was beside her now, too close, breath cold against her neck.

“You think they know what you are?” he murmured. “You think they understand what’s inside you?”

She turned—tried to run—but the ground beneath her turned to shadow. It gripped her ankles. Pulled.

“You think this power came from nowhere?” he said. “You think you can burn like that and not pay the price?”

The shadows pulled higher—knees, hips, chest.

Piper screamed—

“Piper,” Blackout growled in a voice that split her head in two. “Wake. Up.”

She gasped.

Not aloud.

Not awake.

Just a soft flutter of breath on the couch.

A twitch of her fingers.

But her eyes never opened.

Jake held her tighter, voice shaking. “Come on, Pipes. Come back.”

Piper stilled again.

The darkness held her still.

But now, it had left fingerprints.

Jake Hart hadn’t slept.

He’d tried. Lord, he’d tried—on the couch, on the floor, even slouched half-upright against the wall while Kris hummed lullabies and whispered reassurances to their daughter. But Piper’s stillness had gutted him. Every breath she took felt like a coin flip. Every moment she didn’t stir twisted something deeper inside him.

So he didn’t sleep. He watched.

Watched her. Watched Kris. Watched the pulse in her neck to be sure it was still there.

Now Kris had finally nodded off, curled beneath an emergency blanket on the corner cot. Jake had promised he’d keep holding Piper, just for a little while. Give her a chance to rest. He hadn’t expected how hard it would be—how heavy she’d feel in his lap, not from weight, but from everything else.

And he watched Ray.

Captain Man.

Sitting a few feet away, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tight like they were holding back something dangerous. The suit was still on—scuffed, smeared with street grime and black scorch marks. The kind of damage that said more about the fight than any retelling ever could.

Jake studied the man. Not just what he did—but how he was doing it.

Ray hadn’t moved much. Barely spoke. But every time Piper twitched—every shift in breath, every tiny sound—Ray’s head snapped up like a dog to a whistle. Every time. No matter how quiet. No matter how slight.

That wasn’t just worry. That was guilt.

Jake didn’t know him well—not like Henry or Charlotte had. Not like Piper seemed to, these days. But he knew a man shouldering something alone when he saw it. And Ray was carrying enough to sink a house.

“You’re not just scared for her,” Jake said, voice low. “You think this was your fault.”

Ray didn’t look at him. Just stared at his hands like they might offer a different answer.

Jake leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You know, when Henry first left—when he went to Dystopia—I was angry. Not at him. Not really. Just… helpless. Couldn’t do a damn thing but hope he was out there being smarter than his old man.”

Ray’s shoulders tightened, but he still didn’t speak.

“But Piper…” Jake exhaled. “She always wanted to be the tough one. Always had something to prove. And when this started—her internship, the secrets—I let myself believe it was still pretend. Still her being dramatic. A phase.”

He looked at Ray now. Really looked at him. 

“She’s not pretending anymore, is she?”

Ray swallowed. His jaw clenched once. Twice.

“She made the call,” he said finally, voice rough. “Told us to take the drive and go. She stayed behind to draw Blackout out.”

Jake blinked, the weight of that hitting harder now that it was said aloud.

"She stayed,” Ray repeated, softer now. “And I stayed with her. We fought him together.”

A silence passed between them, heavy and full of things neither one of them could name.

“I was supposed to protect her,” Ray added.

Jake looked down at his youngest child in his arms—so still, so cold at the edges, her skin pale and clammy against his. But her fingers had curled faintly in sleep, the only proof she hadn’t slipped away entirely.

“You did,” Jake said. “You kept her breathing. You brought her back.”

Ray didn’t reply.

But then Piper moved.

Just a little. A twitch of her hand against Jake’s forearm. A tremor along her ribs. Jake stiffened.

“Ray—”

Ray was already beside them, crouched low, scanning her face.

Piper’s breathing hitched. Her lips moved, forming a soundless word. Her whole body jerked once, then again, and she made a soft, broken noise—half gasp, half cry.

“She’s dreaming,” Ray said, voice low.

“No,” Jake said quietly. “She’s fighting something.”

Piper writhed, her back arching off Jake’s lap for a second. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Her fingers clutched at air, electricity crackling faintly at the tips before fading. A whimper escaped her throat—fragile. 

Ray’s jaw clenched. “Do we wake her?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He stared down at his daughter’s face—creased with pain, eyes squeezed shut like she was trying to block something out. She was trapped. Somewhere deep and dark. Jake didn’t know what she was seeing, but he could feel how real it was.

“I don’t want her stuck there,” he said.

He leaned down, brushing his hand gently across her forehead. “Pipes,” he murmured. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Wake up, sweetheart.”

No response.

He glanced at Ray.

Together, they both said her name.

“Piper.”

She gasped.

Her eyes shot open, wide and glassy, panic blooming like a firework.

Jake gripped her tighter, grounding her. “You’re okay. Hey—hey. You’re here. It’s over. You’re with us.”

Piper blinked rapidly, heart pounding against his chest. For a moment, she didn’t speak. Just stared at the ceiling like she didn’t recognize it.

Then her eyes flicked toward Ray.

He was still crouched, motionless, face tight with worry. And something else.

Relief.

Piper’s lips parted.

But the only thing she managed to say was a hoarse whisper:

“…he was in my head.”

Jake didn’t let go, only clutched his youngest child tighter.

Hours later, Piper woke to the low hum of Schwoz's computer and the smell of burnt toaster waffles.

Not exactly the soundtrack of recovery, but it beat waking up in a blacked-out street with lightning in her veins and a monster whispering her name.

She blinked against the harsh light and groaned. Her limbs ached like she’d been hit by a truck, then electrocuted, then emotionally wrecked for good measure.

So… a normal Wednesday.

She sat up slowly. The couch blanket fell off her shoulders. Kris and Jake were asleep side by side in the corner, tangled in a cocoon of emergency blankets. Schwoz was slumped at the console, muttering code in gibberish at a screen full of red error messages.

And Jasper—of course—was bouncing a stress ball off the wall like the apocalypse hadn’t happened twelve hours ago.

He caught it midair as she stirred. “Hey. She lives!”

Piper gave him a dry look. “Barely.”

He came over, dropping the stress ball in her lap. “You scared the crap out of us, you know.”

“I scared me too.” Her voice was hoarse.

From the Nest, the elevator dinged.

Ray had vanished for a shower—thank god—but Piper still tensed until she saw Credenza walking in.

She was holding two trays stacked with brown paper bags and one massive thermos like she could and would fight anyone who got between her and a stable blood sugar level.

“Breakfast,” she announced, setting the food down on the table. “No one’s leaving this base on empty carbs.”

Jake stirred. “Is that—Nacho Ball breakfast burritos?”

Credenza nodded. “I had to bribe the kitchen guy with front-row tickets to the Miss Swellview pageant, but yes.”

Jasper was already halfway to the table. “You deserve a medal.”

Piper stayed where she was, watching the room shift. No one said it out loud, but everything was still cracked around the edges. Like if someone breathed wrong, they’d all shatter again.

Schwoz lifted his head from the console. “Food? Is this food?” He wandered over like a zombie and immediately tried to pour hot coffee into an energy drink can.

Credenza gently took it from him and handed him a cup instead. “No crimes against caffeine, please.”

Piper stood slowly, wobbling once. Jasper caught her elbow.

“You sure you should be up?” he asked.

She gave him a thin smile. “Probably not.”

Still, she let him lead her to the table where the burritos were warm, and the coffee was stronger than the lingering fear in her chest.

Jasper pulled out a chair for her—gently, like she might break. “How are you feeling?”

Piper stared at her burrito like it might offer clarity. “I don’t know. Like I’ve been dragged through a nightmare. Literally.”

Jasper nodded. “You were. We heard it.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“You said he was in your head.”

Piper didn’t answer. She just unwrapped the burrito and took a bite that tasted like exhaustion.

"Where's Buddy?" Piper asked Credenza, who winked at her.

"At yours with the rest of the Danger Force. They're trying to fix up your house, which was wrecked during your fight with Blackout last night."

"Oh, thank God," Kris murmured, bleary eyed, biting into her burrito. "I do hope this is gluten free."

Schwoz plopped down beside them. “Encryption is still locked, by the way. Bill Evil encoded this drive like it held the recipe for immortality.”

“Maybe it does,” Jasper muttered. “It better, after last night.”

Piper swallowed hard. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Days,” Schwoz said. “If I’m lucky.”

Credenza crossed her arms. “We don’t have days.”

“We also don’t have a choice,” Piper said, and instantly regretted how hopeless it sounded.

Schwoz touched her shoulder. “I’ll get it, Piper. I promise.”

She nodded. But inside, the dread was piling higher. Blackout was still out there. Her parents looked like they’d aged ten years overnight. And now—

“Oh no,” she whispered suddenly, eyes widening.

Jasper looked up. “What?”

“My case,” Piper said. “Miss Shapen’s case. The hearing—her deadline—it’s tomorrow. I haven’t written the closing argument. I haven’t even reviewed the new evidence.”

Jasper blinked. “Pipes… we literally almost died last night.”

“And if I don’t finish that case,” she said, voice rising, “Miss Shapen will actually kill me.”

Piper groaned and dropped her head onto the table.

Jasper reached over and peeled a napkin off her cheek. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Piper didn’t lift her head, but she mumbled through the table. “You say that like we’re not one mistake away from Blackout turning us into shadow pancakes.”

“Hey,” he said, voice quieting. “You made it through last night. You found the drive. You didn’t fall apart.”

Piper tilted her head just enough to see him. "I fainted.”

“Semantics,” Jasper said, waving a hand. “You still have time to win a court case, take down a multinational evil company, and maybe—maybe—sleep for four hours in between.”

"Dont forget Pipes here is also competing for Miss Swellview!" Jake chimed in, trying to be helpful.

Piper exhaled a half-laugh, half-sob. “Oh my God. I almost forgot. I need to rehearse for that, too.”

Kris poured her a coffee. “Drink. Strategize. Then panic.”

Piper took a sip and felt the ache in her arms, the static still buzzing at her fingertips, the low-grade panic simmering under her ribs. The world felt too bright. Too real. Too much.

Jasper nudged her burrito closer. “Eat, Pipes. Court cases are lost on an empty stomach.”

“Pretty sure they’re lost when the attorney forgets her own closing statement,” she groaned, but took another bite anyway.

Credenza squeezed her shoulder and sat beside her. “When’s the hearing?”

She checked her phone. It was almost noon.

“Twenty-one hours,” she said grimly. "And I'm nowhere near ready."

Schwoz grinned slyly. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that."

Before she could ask him what he meant, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She checked it instinctively—still expecting some terrifying alert about Eclipse, or a desperate email from Miss Shapen in all caps.

But it wasn’t from her.

It was from Radcliffe.

Subject: Case Rescheduled — FISHER V SHAPEN

She blinked, then opened it.

Due to a medical emergency with Judge Mahoney, the hearing for Fisher v. Shapen has been rescheduled. New trial date: One week from today. Time unchanged.

Please contact chambers if there are any urgent scheduling conflicts.

— Radcliffe, Mason & Gilis, Partner

Piper stared at the screen, barely breathing.

Jasper leaned over. “Bad news?”

She shook her head slowly, rereading the message like it might vanish.

“No,” she said. “It’s postponed. A week.”

The air in her lungs returned all at once.

“Oh thank God,” she whispered, slumping forward. “I thought I was gonna have to write a closing statement with blood and hope.”

“Wait—what happened?” Credenza asked.

“Judge Mahoney got sick,” Piper said, blinking again. “Apparently it was a ‘medical emergency.’”

Schwoz made a low noise in his throat and immediately found the ceiling very interesting.

Piper’s brow furrowed. “Schwoz…”

He glanced at her like a kid caught near a broken lamp. “I… may have some context.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Schwoz cleared his throat. “Ray had Miles teleport to the judge’s house last night. Put something in his dinner.”

Piper froze. “Put what in his dinner?”

Schwoz raised a finger. “Before you get mad, it was totally safe.”

“Schwoz.”

He winced. “Fine. He spiked the judge’s lasagna with a drop of Sploogonite Extract. Very diluted. Causes mild hallucinations, temporary nausea, and an overwhelming desire to cancel appointments.”

Jasper's eyes went wide. “Wait. Sploogonite? Isn’t that the thing that made Henry think his cereal was attacking him in Senior year?”

“Precisely,” Schwoz said proudly.

Piper stared at him. “So you poisoned a judge.”

“Technically, Ray poisoned a judge,” Schwoz said. “I just calculated the dose.”

Jasper blinked. “That’s… that’s the most Captain Man solution I’ve ever heard.”

Jake looked vaguely horrified. “Are we the bad guys?”

But Piper didn’t answer. She was still holding the phone, staring at the rescheduled date like it was a life raft.

She didn’t want to think about how close she’d come to cracking. How she’d barely gotten through the night without completely losing it. And Ray—Ray had known. Even if he didn’t say it. He’d seen it in her face, or in her shaking hands, or maybe in the way she couldn’t stop blaming herself.

He’d given her time.

He was watching her back.

“You okay?” Jasper asked, nudging her gently.

She nodded, trying to push the warmth off her face. “Yeah. Just… relieved.”

“Relieved enough to finish the burrito?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Jasper smirked and leaned back.

Chapter Text

Part 3

The wind howled through the hollowed ruins of the upper towers, carrying with it the stench of scorched metal. Henry crouched low on a cracked balcony, watching the horizon shift with smog and ash. His hood was up, his jacket torn at the shoulder, but his eyes were sharp. Focused.

Behind him, Charlotte tapped on a dented laptop, the screen flickering with interference. She’d rerouted the signal three times already just to avoid being traced.

“Hen,” she said, her tone clipped. “I’ve been surveilling Eclipse’s base in Swellview. The neural override is almost ready.”

Henry didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes on the skyline, jaw tight.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Charlotte rotated the screen toward him. A grainy feed showed a subterranean chamber lit with harsh white light. Figures in lab coats moved between consoles. In the center—sleek, humming, and terrifying—stood the neural override device.

“This thing is way more advanced than what we found here,” she said. “It’s not a prototype anymore. According to the intercepted chatter, all they’re missing now is something they keep calling ‘the key.’”

Henry turned toward her, brows pinched. “The key?”

Charlotte nodded grimly. “They didn’t say what it is. Just that once it’s in place, the signal can be broadcast. Full activation. Mass override.”

Henry’s breath left him in a sharp exhale. “They won’t get that far,” he muttered. “They can’t.”

Charlotte studied his face. “You still think the drive made it?”

“I know it did.”

“You don’t know,” she said gently. “You’re hoping.”

He turned to her, something burning behind his eyes. “I’m trusting my sister.”

That quieted her. 

The conviction in his voice was like flint sparking against steel.

He sank back against the wall, eyes flickering with exhaustion. “Jasper’s been separated from us for over three weeks. No contact. No confirmation. But if he reached Piper—and she got that drive to Schwoz…”

“Then maybe we still have a shot,” Charlotte finished, her voice softening. “If they crack it in time.”

Henry nodded slowly. “Everything rides on that drive. Bill Evil’s data, the research, the internal Eclipse protocols—it’s all in there. They’re our last hope.”

He looked up at the sky—permanently overcast, ashen and lifeless. A city caught in permanent twilight.

“Let’s hope they can pull it off.”

The wind rattled a nearby scaffolding, steel groaning under its own weight. They didn’t flinch. They were used to it now. Dystopia didn’t scare them anymore.

But what was waiting back home did.

“We’ve been running ops nonstop,” Charlotte said after a moment. “Surveilling their transport routes. Disabling their communication towers. Wiping entire archives before Eclipse could move them off-grid. And they still built this override.”

Henry rubbed a hand down his face. His fingers lingered there, pressing into his temples like he could force back the ache of failure. “We’ve slowed them down. But we haven’t stopped them.”

“We’re not hiding,” Charlotte reminded him. “We’re grinding them down.”

“We’re buying time,” Henry said. “Time they never agreed to pay for.”

Charlotte said nothing.

“Piper shouldn’t even be involved,” he went on, voice cracking. “She came to Dystopia for a weekend. Just to check on me. Because she was worried.” He bit back a laugh, but it was hollow. “And now she’s got powers she doesn’t understand, stuck in the middle of a war she never chose.”

Charlotte’s jaw tightened. “You think Eclipse did this to her?”

Henry shook his head slowly. “No. I think Dystopia did. I think something happened while she was here—some exposure, some residue from the core reactor we barely survived. And Bill Evil built Blackout in this city, didn’t he? Eclipse experimented here. They broke physics here. They made monsters here.”

He looked at her then. Not a superhero. Not the leader of a team.

Just a brother.

“She’s not just caught in the crossfire anymore, Char.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“She is the crossfire.”

Charlotte’s breath hitched.

Henry’s voice shook now, barely holding the edge of control. “And Blackout’s been gone.”

Charlotte tensed.

“You noticed, right?” he said. “No sightings in Dystopia. No ambushes. No flickers on the grid. Not even a whisper.”

Charlotte nodded, grim. “Because he’s not here anymore.”

Henry’s hands curled into fists.

“He’s in Swellview,” he said, venom laced into the words. “Watching her. Waiting.”

He turned away, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“I told her to go to Ray,” he said. “Even though he retired as Captain Man. I thought he could help her. That maybe she’d be safer there.”

A pause.

“I didn’t know I was sending her straight into their path.”

Charlotte crossed her arms, her voice careful. “You think Ray knows?”

Henry shook his head. “He knows something’s wrong. He must. He put the suit back on. Deep down, he knows what we’re dealing with.”

Charlotte blinked. “You really think that’s why?”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “Because Ray doesn’t un-retire unless the world’s about to break. And whether he realizes it or not… Piper is the reason.”

Charlotte exhaled slowly.

Henry’s voice dropped, haunted. “And now Eclipse is looking for a key.”

Something clicked in his head, sharp and sudden. His stomach turned.

He went still.

Charlotte noticed. “What?”

Henry’s mouth opened—then closed again. He stared past her, like seeing something in the smoke that wasn’t there.

“They said all they need is the key,” he said, quiet now.

Charlotte nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

His breath caught.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “It’s her.”

Charlotte frowned. “What?”

“It’s Piper,” Henry said, stepping away from the railing like the thought physically jolted him. “She’s the key.”

Charlotte blinked. “Henry—”

“She’s not just powerful, Char,” he said. “She’s reactive. Volatile. Eclipse built that override to bend minds, to control people. What if they need someone like her to amplify it? What if she’s not just a target… she’s the final component.”

Charlotte’s expression shifted—horror, then fury. “You think they’re going to use her as the conduit?”

He nodded. “She absorbed something here—energy, tech, I don’t know. But whatever it is… they lost it. And now it’s inside her.”

The wind cut through the ruins. 

A long, terrible silence.

Charlotte stepped forward, eyes wide now, the fight in her chest crackling to life. “She’s not built for that,” she said. “She’s twenty. She jokes when she’s scared. She doubles down when she’s overwhelmed. She’s—” Her voice broke. “She’s not ready for this.”

“She doesn’t even know she’s the key," Henry said quietly.

Charlotte shook her head, swallowing hard. “We should’ve seen it. I should’ve seen it.”

Henry looked at her. “We couldn’t have known.”

“No,” Charlotte snapped, sudden heat in her voice. “I should have guessed. She was scared when she called you. Desperate. I should’ve heard it. I should’ve—”

She turned away, furious at herself. “She trusted us.”

Henry’s voice was rough. “She still does.”

Charlotte didn’t move. But when she finally spoke, it wasn’t fear in her voice. It was something colder. “If Eclipse even tries to use her—”

“They already know,” Henry cut in, his voice hoarse. "And they will. That override doesn’t work without her. They’ll use her to control everything.”

He sank to the ground slowly, back against the wall, the weight of it all catching up to him. “Everything we’ve done—all of this—was to stop Eclipse from finishing their weapon. And the truth is… the last piece of it is my little sister.”

Charlotte knelt beside him, hand gripping his sleeve, knuckles white.

“What do we do?” she asked.

Henry didn’t blink.

“We finish what we started. We find Jasper. We destroy the override. And we pray to God Schwoz gets that drive open first.”

He looked back toward the horizon.

“And if they touch her,” he said, voice sharp as a blade. “If he touches her, I will burn Eclipse to the ground.”

Charlotte didn’t flinch.

Because she’d burn it with him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 | 2 Fast 2 Furious: Unrated & Slightly Blurry

Piper jolted awake, heart racing, hair doing its best impression of a bird's nest. Another nightmare. That made, what? Two in a row? Three, if you counted the one where Schwoz turned into Bill Evil and tried to sell her a haunted blender that ran on screams.

She flopped back against her pillow, groaning. “Cool, cool,” she muttered, shoving off the covers. “Love that I’m starring in my own horror trilogy. Night two and still no Oscar nod. Thanks, trauma.”

Ever since Bill Evil’s untimely murder—or 'sudden exorcism via soul-chugging shadow monster,' depending on who you asked—her dreams had been full-on horror movie marathons. His face. His voice. It was all on a never-ending loop in her brain. Probably guilt. Definitely pressure. 

Across the hall, in Henry's bedroom, she could hear Schwoz muttering to himself in Binary. When he wasn't in their house sleeping, he’d been in the Man's Nest, glued to that encrypted drive like it was the last avocado in a millennial apocalypse. It had been two days now and so far, he’d cracked through seventeen “walls of cipher doom”—his words—and unearthed something called a “hex shell” that was apparently locked inside a fake corrupted file pretending to be 2 Fast 2 Furious: Unrated & Slightly Blurry.

Piper had peeked once. It was literally a pixelated Vin Diesel yelling in Morse code.

Progress.

She dragged herself out of bed and into real clothes, or at least what counted as real clothes when you were working 9-to-5 and being monitored like a baby panda in captivity.

As she thudded downstairs, she found her dad already in the kitchen—arms folded, keys in hand, and wearing his new 'World’s Most Greatest Chauffeur' hoodie.

“Good morning, Piper,” Jake said brightly, like he hadn’t just been parked outside her bedroom door like a sentient houseplant.

Piper narrowed her eyes. “You know I’m not five, right? I can legally vote and illegally park.”

“Yeah, and yet here we are,” Jake said, jingling the car keys. “Let’s go. I already warmed up the car, checked the tire pressure, and packed you a peanut butter protein smoothie.”

“I hate peanut butter," she said flatly.

“It’s good for your brain," he replied without missing a beat.

She crossed her arms and hit him with her best unimpressed glare. “Then you drink it.”

“I’m driving," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Coward," she muttered, grabbing the smoothie like it had personally wronged her.

Since the second Blackout incident—aka The Great Public Fainting of Piper Hart—she’d lost approximately all of her personal freedom. Jake had become her personal Uber driver, Miles kept teleporting in like a nosy hummingbird every few hours (“Just checking your vibes!”), and Drex? In the 48 hours since the backyard battle, Drex had somehow bullied his way into becoming a security guard at Mason & Gillis.

Which begged the question: who in HR looked at this hulking ex-supervillain with rage issues and thought, 'yeah, let’s give that guy keys to the building?'

“I have eyes everywhere,” Drex had whispered at her in the lobby yesterday, wearing a badge and sunglasses indoors like a rejected Men in Black extra.

Now, every day at work was a game of “spot the muscle-bound maniac watching me in the breakroom.”

Add to that the fact that Jasper—sweet, well-meaning, extremely unqualified Jasper—had also started showing up at her work. Just to “bring her snacks” or “accidentally drop off someone else’s dry cleaning” or “coincidentally be standing in the hallway for no reason whatsoever.”

“Do I need a badge?” he’d asked last time, holding out a tote bag full of trail mix and dental floss.

Drex didn't even hesitate to wave him through.

And Kris? Kris had gone full helicopter mom. 

She’d started sending Piper to work with Bento boxes like she was a second grader in a Tokyo prep school. Everything was portioned, labeled, and themed. Yesterday’s lunch had been shaped like the scales of justice. Literally. She’d cut tiny carrots into gavels. Piper ate the whole thing out of spite.

Last night, Kris tried to sneak a handwritten affirmation card into Piper’s bag that said “You are brave, brilliant, and better than your enemies.” It was laminated. In glitter gel.

Piper confronted her.

Kris had blinked, dead serious. “I just think your inner warrior deserves a pep talk.”

Honestly, it was exhausting being this loved.

And worse—she knew they were all just trying to protect her. Which made it harder to yell at them. But still. A little breathing room wouldn’t kill anyone.

Probably.

By the time Piper arrived at Mason & Gillis—chauffeured by Jake, who’d insisted on double-checking her seatbelt twice—she was already counting down the seconds until her first coffee break.

She trudged into the marble lobby, smoothie in hand, only to pause mid-step as she spotted Drex at the security desk, inspecting employee badges with all the gentle subtlety of a TSA agent on their fifth espresso shot.

“Badge!” he barked at an intern, looming like an oversized gargoyle as the poor kid fumbled through his pockets, visibly sweating. Drex narrowed his eyes at the ID, bringing it inches from his face before grunting and thrusting it back. “Carry on, nerd.”

Piper groaned under her breath. It was like watching a mountain lion interrogate kittens. As she approached, Radcliffe stormed toward the security desk, scowling, moustache twitching angrily beneath his glasses.

“Oh, come on! I’m a senior partner!” Radcliffe argued, waving his wallet indignantly. 

Drex leaned forward slowly, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. ‘Senior Partner’—is that supposed to impress me?”

“It usually does!”

“Not today. ID. Now.”

Radcliffe puffed himself up, moustache fully bristled. “This is ridiculous. I hired you!”

“And I appreciate your terrible judgment. ID.”

Radcliffe produced his badge with a defeated sigh, muttering about "power trips" and "HR lunatics," while Drex spent a full twenty seconds scanning it suspiciously, eyebrows lowered like it personally offended him. Finally, he waved him past. “Don’t try me again, old man.”

Piper snickered despite herself. This whole disaster had one tiny silver lining: watching Radcliffe get his ego thoroughly flattened every morning.

She stepped forward, smoothie still dangling limply in her grip. “Hey, Drex.”

Instantly, his expression shifted from menacing security beast to doting bodyguard. “Morning, Hart,” he said warmly, stepping aside and gesturing grandly toward the elevators. “Have a great day at work. You look rested. Nice smoothie—protein’s good for you.”

Radcliffe, halfway across the lobby, gaped back in disbelief. “Oh, she just walks right in?”

Drex shot him a murderous glare. “Badge checks are random. Move along.”

“Unbelievable!” Radcliffe stomped away, muttering angrily.

Piper just sighed, waving halfheartedly as Drex beamed proudly after her.

Stepping off the elevator, she navigated the bustling bullpen toward her desk, narrowly dodging Krisha, who zoomed past clutching three cups of coffee and a stack of files, whispering urgently about 'statute of limitations' to literally no one.

Piper watched her go, eyebrows raised. Krisha clearly needed fewer espressos and maybe a calming podcast.

With a resigned sigh, Piper collapsed into her desk chair, dropping the peanut butter smoothie onto the polished surface like it owed her money. She had barely managed to power up her laptop when she made the mistake of glancing upward—and immediately regretted every life choice she'd ever made.

Logan was there, casually perched on the edge of her desk, crisp suit jacket impeccably tailored, hair artfully tousled as though he'd just stepped out of a legal drama on Netflix rather than ghosting her during a crucial court hearing.

She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. “Oh, good. You’re alive.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, wearing that faint, unreadable smile that always made her want to throw office supplies. “You sound disappointed.”

“Only mildly,” Piper deadpanned, turning slightly toward her screen. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught it: his left shoulder twitched as she moved—just a flicker—and his hand went to it, fingers pressing along the joint like something still hurt. A small wince.

Her gaze sharpened. There it was again. That almost imperceptible pause.

“It would’ve been a convenient explanation for why you bailed on me in court while I was forced to single-handedly prevent our client from launching her shoe at opposing counsel," she continued.

He gave a quiet laugh, low and annoyingly charming. “I was sick.”

Piper snorted. “Yeah, me too. Sick of Miss Shapen insisting the receipts were Photoshopped by her ex-husband’s new girlfriend. What exactly did you come down with—selective responsibility disorder?”

Logan gave her another weary half-smile, his eyes flicking down to his shoulder for half a second. “Flu, fever, existential dread. Take your pick.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should I add ‘tennis elbow’ to the list?”

He hesitated a second too long. “Let’s just say James takes his tennis seriously. Who knew your boyfriend had a serve like Serena Williams?”

Another wince. This one slower, deeper. Like he wasn’t expecting the pain. 

Piper leaned back, arms crossed. “Seriously? He nailed you with a serve?”

Logan nodded. “Right in the shoulder. Ball came out of nowhere.”

She offered a saccharine smile. “Nice. That’s hot.”

Logan blinked. “You’re… proud?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, casually flipping open a case file. “James plays one round of tennis and accidentally takes you out? That’s incredible. He deserves a trophy. Or at least dinner tonight.”

He gave a short, dry exhale. “Pretty sure he cracked a rib.”

Piper’s smile grew even sweeter, eyes glued to the pages. “Fine, dessert too.”

Logan gave a soft, almost-sincere laugh—but when he stood to leave, he moved stiffly, slower than usual. He didn’t say anything more, just offered a slight nod as he passed her desk.

She didn’t turn to watch him go.

But she did glance sideways—just enough to catch him absently roll his shoulder again as he walked away.

Something in her stilled.

She didn’t know why it caught her attention. Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was everything else bubbling beneath the surface—Blackout, secrets, stress. Or maybe it was just how perfectly his hand landed on the spot she’d hit someone during the fight in her backyard. That desperate, panicked burst of electricity she’d let loose—shoulder height. Left side.

But she shoved the thought down. Coincidence. Logan played tennis with James. People get injured. That’s life.

Right?

Logan wasn’t in the field. He didn’t fight. He didn’t even run fast enough when the office fire alarm went off during the Great Scone Incident of July. It was most definitely a coincidence.

She didn’t even believe he was lying. That was the part that bothered her.

Jasper had never liked quiet.

Not the kind that settled like dust in the corners of a room. Not the kind that filled your ears when you weren’t saying the thing you wanted to say.

And the Man’s Nest, without Piper’s sarcasm bouncing off the walls, without Danger Force debating over snack combinations or Kris and Jake stress-worrying over every sip of coffee, was suddenly too quiet.

He sat perched sideways on a stool near the auto-snacker, a bottle of vitamin water sweating in his hand. The label was halfway shredded—some subconscious compulsion to do something, anything, while the rest of the room held its breath.

Across from him, Schwoz was hunched over the encrypted drive like it had personally insulted his childhood. Strings of code blinked across his screens, mutating, shifting—each line mocking him in another language. He hadn’t blinked in fifteen minutes. Might’ve forgotten how.

Ray was slouched nearby, scrolling through his phone with all the enthusiasm of a man reading his own arrest warrant.

Jasper fidgeted. "So... any progress?"

Schwoz didn't look up. "Progress, yes. Completion, no. This encryption is like a thousand tiny angry elves, each guarding a different password and making fun of my accent."

Jasper nodded like that made sense. "So, uh, we're still on... pixelated-Vin-Diesel-yelling-at-us level?"

Schwoz muttered something in what Jasper hoped was gibberish and not a new curse word. "I have bypassed that. Now we are at phase 'hex shell'. If I force it, we could lose everything. If I go too slow, well—" He flapped a hand, as if to say: doom, general chaos, end of the world stuff, you get it.

Jasper nodded again, not really getting it but too tired to get argue. He glanced over at Ray, who was barely pretending to be present. The Man's Nest lights cast shadows under his eyes—he looked older, somehow, and not just in the 'hey, you're forty-four and allergic to vegetables' way.

"You okay, Ray?" Jasper asked, almost out of habit.

Ray didn't answer for a second. Just scrolled, thumb drifting idly. "Yeah. Just tired."

Schwoz shot him a look from behind a glowing monitor. "You have not slept since Sunday. Your cortisol levels are probably higher than my blood pressure after eating Danger Dogs."

Ray grunted. "I don't get to rest. Not now."

Jasper watched him, uneasy. He'd seen Ray tired before—after big fights, after years of pretending he could handle everything. But this was different. He looked... hollow. Like there was nothing left in the tank, but he kept driving anyway.

Jasper moved a little closer, dropping his voice. "You know, Credenza's worried about you."

Ray didn't look up. "She shouldn't be."

Jasper shrugged, picking at the label again. “Yeah, well. She is. We all are. Even Schwoz, and he doesn’t worry about anything except reality television and, like, World Bear One.”

Schwoz grunted without turning around. “World Bear One will happen.”

Jasper almost smiled, but Ray still hadn’t moved. The silence came creeping back in, thicker and heavier. He decided not to push. Ray could be more stubborn than a vending machine that ate your last dollar. But he also knew Ray well enough by now to clock the signs. He was spiraling. Quietly, invisibly, but definitely spiraling.

Maybe it was guilt. Bill Evil's death. Blackout. The drive. Henry and Charlotte still missing. The sheer weight of everything stacked against them.

"You know," Jasper said, quieter, "you don't have to do everything yourself. Henry used to say the same thing, actually. Everyone’s waiting for you to ask for help.”

Ray was quiet for a long moment, eyes fixed on something far away. Jasper wondered what he saw—Henry, Charlotte, a city he thought he’d saved already. Or maybe just himself, still running in circles.

“Can’t help it,” Ray said, finally. “If I stop, everything falls apart.”

Jasper set the bottle down, hearing it clink against the counter. “I don’t think that’s true. It didn’t fall apart when you retired. Not completely. People stepped up.”

Ray’s jaw worked, just once, but he didn't say anything.

Schwoz turned just enough to interject, “If you don’t rest, your decisions will get worse, not better. I can make you a sedative.” He sounded almost hopeful.

Ray shook his head. “Don’t need a sedative. Just a breakthrough.”

Jasper’s gaze lingered on Ray’s hands—restless, tense. Not the hands of a man with answers. He felt a weird pang of protectiveness. Not hero-level, not like Ray or Henry. But the kind that sticks. The kind that keeps you showing up even when no one’s watching.

He let the silence breathe a little, hoping Ray might take the chance to vent, or at least admit he was running on fumes. No such luck. Ray just stared at the wall, thumb absently tapping the side of his phone.

"We're all tougher than you think," Jasper said quietly, half to fill the air, half because he meant it. "We'll be fine. But we worry about you. A lot."

Ray let out a short, humorless sound that might have been a laugh. "You shouldn't have to."

For a second, Jasper felt like Henry—watching Ray spin quietly out of control, trying to hold the cracks together with sheer stubbornness. It was unsettling, feeling that responsibility fall onto his own shoulders.

He shrugged. "That's not how it works. You care about us, we care about you. That's how... you know, teams work. Families too." He paused, picking at a stubborn edge of the vitamin water label. "You used to tell me I was a liability. Now look at you, Mister Emotional."

Schwoz snorted, eyes never leaving the screens. "I miss when Ray solved his feelings with punching."

Ray tried to glare, but his heart wasn't in it. "Me too."

Jasper let the joke hang there, hoping it might lighten something. "Look, I get it. You made promises. You feel responsible. But if you crash, you're not helping anyone."

Ray didn't argue, which was new. Instead, he let out a breath and pressed his palms to his eyes for a long moment, like he was trying to rub some sense into himself.

"We'll get the drive open," Jasper said, more certain than he felt. "Schwoz is basically a human cheat code."

Schwoz perked up, distracted from the hex shell. "I have never cheated. Except at Uno. And Monopoly. And on a quiz show in Austria, but that was for charity."

Jasper almost smiled. The world was falling apart, but some things, like Schwoz's weird flexes, never changed.

Ray finally looked over, and for a moment, Jasper saw not Captain Man, not the guy carrying a city on his back, but just Ray. Human. Worn out. Still here.

"Thanks, Jasper," Ray said quietly. Not much, but it meant something.

Jasper shrugged again, suddenly sheepish. "Somebody's gotta keep you from setting yourself on fire."

Schwoz's keyboard clacked louder as he leaned in, peering at the screen. "Almost there," he muttered. "This last layer is... very stubborn. Like you, Ray."

Jasper felt a flicker of hope. "You got this, Schwoz."

The room fell silent again, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of three people waiting, hoping, holding it together because that's what you do until something finally breaks through.

Piper barely had time to finish her report when Radcliffe's frantic voice sliced through the bullpen. 

“Hart! Mallory! My office, now!”

"Fun," she muttered under her breath, shoving back her chair and giving Logan a pointed look. “Are we getting fired or just publicly scolded?”

Logan didn't smile. "Does it matter?"

Inside the conference room, Radcliffe stood at the head of the table, expression severe. A nervous paralegal hovered nearby, holding a slim folder tightly to her chest.

“Sit,” Radcliffe said sharply. They obeyed.

He wasted no time. “Judge Mahoney’s illness bought us extra time—but the Exhibit X revelations have put us in a difficult position. Miss Hart, the footage of Miss Shapen loading boxes labeled ‘S.H.P. Fund—Statement Pieces’ into Fisher’s van two nights before their official separation strongly implies she was trying to conceal or redistribute marital assets.”

Piper exhaled, nodding. “The prosecution's angle is clear. They’re arguing she secretly transferred those boxes—funded by student detention money—to keep them out of divorce proceedings or even implicate Fisher.”

Logan interjected quietly, still clutching his shoulder delicately, “But if we can show Fisher had any prior knowledge or direct involvement with the fund, the claim of concealment or embezzlement weakens considerably.”

Radcliffe nodded sharply. “Exactly. Your immediate focus is documentation. Emails, receipts, fundraiser records—anything that links Fisher to the S.H.P. Fund. If he had access or oversight, even informally, that’s our opening.”

He turned slightly. “We also need to reframe the detention payments. You must find evidence they were voluntary. Suggested donations, not mandatory fees. If they were positioned as optional, we’re looking at poor ethics—not fraud.”

Piper took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “That’s a big ask, considering half the students showed up in court specifically to glare at her. But… maybe there are school emails, parent letters, something official implying these donations were always optional.”

“Precisely,” Radcliffe said firmly. “And whatever defense we establish must hold up without challenging the evidence chain or relying on procedural technicalities. Because if we can’t show intent was murky at best, Lint’s going to make embezzlement stick. Our credibility is already thin.”

He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “I want a strategy outline on my desk by Monday morning. Don’t let Shapen’s chaos become ours.”

Logan glanced at Piper. “You okay with me taking lead on this?”

She hesitated, thumb tapping against her tablet before she answered. “All yours. Let me know how it feels when she throws the judge's gavel at you."

As she exited the conference room, still typing and barely registering her surroundings, a voice caught her ear—smooth, unhurried, vaguely amused.

“There you are,” Credenza said, rising from a lobby chair like she’d been waiting since sunrise but didn’t mind. “You’re late.”

Piper blinked. “Oh no. Don’t tell me it’s your turn.”

Credenza held up a sleek, insulated lunch bag. “It was Jasper yesterday. You’re stuck with me today.”

Drex, behind the security desk, raised a hand. “She’s got a great vibe,” he said. “Never boring."

“You’re not even checking badges anymore,” Piper muttered, half-impressed, half-exasperated.

Drex shrugged. “She’s the mother of my child. And she brought miso-glazed faux-fu.”

Credenza smirked. “I come bearing protein and quiet judgment.”

“Fabulous,” Piper said, instantly perking up. Faux-fu was her favorite snack. “Lead the way.”

They settled on a bench near the fountain—neutral territory, sun-drenched and just far enough from the law firm to pretend life was normal. 

“You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys babysitting duty,” Piper said, eyeing Credenza carefully.

“You don’t strike me as someone who admits when she needs babysitting,” Credenza replied smoothly, arranging her food with surgical precision.

Piper paused, faux-fu halfway to her mouth. “Fair point.”

They ate in silence for a beat. The food was warm and perfectly seasoned. Of course it was.

"You ever miss the villain thing?" Piper asked, feigning casual.

Credenza shrugged. "Only when I'm at the DMV. Sometimes I see the line and think, 'There has to be a more efficient way to terrorize people.'"

Piper smirked. "I don't know, the DMV has a way of breaking even the toughest people. I watched a grown man cry over a ticket once. It was beautiful."

Credenza laughed—a sharp, genuine sound that made Piper blink. It was unsettling how familiar it felt. Not the laugh itself, but the rhythm of it. She’d heard Ray laugh like that.

“You’re twisted,” Credenza said, popping open a sesame ball. “I like it.”

Piper mock-bowed. “My boyfriend says it builds character.”

Credenza cocked her head. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Shocking, I know,” Piper deadpanned. “Apparently some people find my rage endearing.”

“Must be a very specific niche,” Credenza said, popping another ball into her mouth. “What’s he like? Equally as intense? Or one of those calm, mysterious types who secretly journals about clouds?”

Piper hesitated a beat too long. “He’s… nice.”

Credenza gave her a look so dry it could start a bush fire. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It is,” Piper said, a little too quickly. “He’s smart. Stable. Normal, even. Very into justice.”

“Ah,” Credenza said. “A total wild card.”

Piper glanced away, chewing thoughtfully. She didn’t know why it suddenly felt like describing James was harder than usual.

Credenza leaned back, letting the sun hit her face. “You ever notice how sometimes ‘nice’ is just another word for ‘not paying attention’?”

Piper blinked. “That’s... cynical.”

“It’s honest,” Credenza replied, eyes still closed. “Nice is easy. Showing up when things get messy? That’s rare.”

The words sank like a pebble in her chest—small, but sending ripples she couldn’t ignore. She said nothing, but her fingers tightened slightly around her chopsticks.

James was nice. Always calm. Always rational. He always texted good morning, offered to carry her things when they went shopping, said things like 'You've got this' before court. And yet...

Where had he been when her hands were shaking before her first real court case? When she spiraled after the blackout? When Bill Evil turned up dead?

Her thoughts shifted, unspooling faster than she could reel them in. She hadn't even told James the truth about everything. About Henry. About Blackout. About her powers, or the way her brain short-circuited when things got too loud, too heavy. About how scared she'd been. How close she'd come to permanently blowing out the entire city.

"You ever get tired of how right he always tries to be?" Credenza asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Piper blinked, caught off guard. "Ray?"

Credenza nodded, eyes still fixed on the sky. "He's got this hero complex. Like if he's not saving something, he doesn't know who he is. It's exhausting."

Piper didn't respond at first. She stared down at her half-eaten faux-fu, the taste suddenly muted.

"Yeah," she said eventually, her voice lower. "But it's also... kind of amazing."

Credenza exhaled like she'd expected that. "Sure. Until he forgets he's allowed to need saving too."

The words landed with quiet finality. Piper's chest tightened again. Something in her wanted to push back, to crack a joke, to redirect. But she couldn't. Not this time.

Because this was Ray. Every time something bad happened—Blackout, the drive, her court case, her powers—he'd stepped in like gravity. Unmoving. Unshakable. And she'd let him. Because being near him made her feel stronger, steadier, like maybe she wouldn't break after all.

Credenza's voice dropped lower. "People like that—they'll never ask for help. But they'll tear themselves apart trying to hold everyone else together. And if you're not paying attention, you miss it. You think they're invincible. But they're not."

Silence stretched between them. Warm. Weighted.

"The people who actually show up when it's ugly?" Credenza added. "That's the good stuff. Everything else is just noise."

Piper didn't answer. Couldn't, really. Her chest had gone tight again.

She didn’t even know what she was hoping for. She had James. She had a life. A future she was trying to build, brick by chaotic brick. Wanting more than that—wanting something messier, something less safe—felt like lighting a match in a fireworks factory.

But still.

There was a flicker in her chest now, something restless and warm and dangerous. Something that whispered maybe.

Maybe she didn’t want someone who kept things neat.

Maybe she wanted someone who saw the storm in her and stayed anyway.

And maybe—just maybe—she was starting to want the good stuff too.

Jake had just gotten back from Luigi’s—his monthly “Dad Thoughts and Lasagna” ritual with Mitch Bilsky’s dad—when he pulled up to the curb like a sentient Uber with boundary issues.

“Game night starts in ten!” Kris shouted from inside as they stepped through the front door. “Wear something you can throw things in!”

Piper kicked off her wedges and muttered, “God help us.”

She didn’t even make it to the stairs before the doorbell rang.

Please be a meteor, she thought.

It was James, holding a paper bag from Lucky Panda and smiling like they weren’t about to emotionally regress into competitive toddlers.

"Hey, Pipes,” he said, stepping inside and immediately being swarmed by the smell of Kris’s lavender diffuser and whatever trauma had been embedded into the Monopoly box.

“You brought food,” Piper said, relieved and already stealing an egg roll.

“I figured it’d be nice,” James replied, smiling at her like the week hadn’t been a slow descent into madness. “Plus, your mom texted me.”

Piper blinked. “Wait—she texted you?”

“Something about feeding the brain goddess before battle,” he said casually.

“Oh my God,” she groaned. “She’s quoting the affirmation cards again.”

“She laminated one and posted it to me so that I could read it to you,” he added, pulling it out and reading aloud. “‘You are swift, strategic, and stunning in silk blouses.’” He glanced at her. “Are you wearing silk?”

“No,” she said flatly. “And now I never will again.”

Kris breezed in with a pitcher of cucumber water and the giddy energy of someone about to ruin family peace. “Oh good, James is here! Hope you’re ready. Last time your girlfriend flipped the board and tried to declare herself Emperor of Swellview.”

“Only because Dad mortgaged my childhood home,” Piper called over, digging through the bag. “You can’t just sell my memories, Dad!"

From the kitchen, Jake shouted back, “Your memories were on Baltic Avenue!”

James just blinked. “So this is normal, then?”

“You’ve seen Schwoz threaten a toaster with a wrench,” Piper replied. “This is downright quaint.”

Ten minutes later, the Hart living room looked like a war room decorated by a Lisa Frank warlord.

Piper had rigged a cushion throne, legs folded under her, hair tied back like she was going into battle. James sat beside her, suspiciously organized, his top hat token already parked on Go.

Kris had the iron. She always picked the iron. “Because nothing straightens chaos like domestic wrath,” she’d once explained.

And Jake—oh, Jake had the dog, sunglasses on, root beer in hand, radiating false confidence like a high school quarterback at his 30-year reunion.

“Banker privileges go to me,” Piper announced, reaching for the stack of bills with the casual entitlement of someone absolutely about to embezzle.

James raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Not if I win fast enough,” she said sweetly.

The game started civilly.

Then Jake landed on Kris’s Railroad and tried to pay her in Canadian Tire coupons.

“You said it was twenty-five!” he argued.

“Twenty-five dollars, not twenty-five Jakebucks,” Kris snapped, snatching her rightful rent.

James glanced around. “Has anyone ever played this game to completion?”

“No,” Piper and Kris said simultaneously.

By round four, Piper had “accidentally” miscounted her dice roll twice, redirected James from landing on her properties with a well-timed cough, and mysteriously acquired a second Get Out of Jail Free card no one remembered drawing.

James leaned over and whispered, “Did you just forge a Community Chest card?”

Piper slid him a $100 with a raised brow. “Are you accusing me of something, Weston?”

He smiled—genuine, amused—and nudged her shoulder. “Never. Just... observing greatness.”

Piper smirked. “Good answer.”

Kris had gone quiet and focused, which was a sign of imminent chaos. Jake had four properties, no money, and was trying to barter with inspirational magnets from the fridge.

“Take this one,” he pleaded, holding up a heart-shaped magnet that said Live Laugh Litigate. “It’s basically priceless.”

“Absolutely not,” Kris replied, collecting on his last red hotel with the patience of a seasoned villain.

Piper feigned shock. “Dad! You can’t just go down like this. You’re embarrassing the dynasty.”

“I blame James,” Jake muttered. “He’s too calm. I don’t trust it.”

“I’m literally just following the rules—”

“Exactly!” Kris and Piper chorused.

James blinked. “Wait. Am I… am I the only person not cheating?”

“You’re in Swellview now,” Kris said darkly. “Grow up.”

Piper cackled and dramatically slid an orange $500 under the table with the precision of a street magician. “Henry used to cheat way worse, for the record. He once slipped extra hotels into the game under his sleeve.”

“And then had the audacity to accuse me of tax fraud,” Kris added, reaching for the dice. “Because I made him pay luxury tax twice in one turn.”

“I still have the photos,” Jake called from the fridge. “Schwoz drew a graph. Charlotte made a spreadsheet.”

James furrowed his brow. "This happened often?"

“Oh yeah,” Piper said, popping a dumpling in her mouth. “Game nights were a tradition before everyone ditched town. Henry used to hide Chance cards in the couch cushions. Charlotte kept stats. And Jasper once cried when we repossessed his utilities.”

“He wept,” Jake confirmed proudly, holding up the laminated scoreboard Kris had framed in the kitchen. Jasper’s handwriting was visible in the corner: ‘This is an unjust economy and I want my mom.’

James gave a low whistle. “So this is a legacy event.”

“More like a bloodsport with snacks,” Piper said, grinning. “Now roll.”

He did. Landed on one of her orange properties—St. James Place, ironically. Piper gave him a slow, predatory smile.

“That’ll be $950,” she said sweetly.

James blinked. “What? It’s not even a hotel—”

“It is now,” she said, plopping a red piece onto the space with dramatic flair. “Surprise development. You didn’t see the memo?”

Kris snorted into her cucumber water. Jake gave a one-man golf clap. James narrowed his eyes.

“You’re making this up.”

“Maybe,” Piper said, already reaching for more egg rolls. “Maybe not. Do you want to lawyer me or roll with it?”

He stared at her for a moment, then leaned back with a grin. “Fine. But I’m drafting my will after this.”

Piper looked at him sideways. “That supposed to be a threat or a romantic gesture?”

“Depends who ends up with the Boardwalk.”

Eventually, the game devolved into a pile of crumpled bills, upended snacks, and Jake declaring that Free Parking was a sacred institution and not just a tax haven.

Kris called it. “Alright. Monopoly deathmatch is officially over. I have to go bleach my hair.”

“I won,” Piper declared.

"You didn’t,” James replied, brushing crumbs off his jeans.

“Who has the most money?”

“You stole half of it from the bank.”

“Your point?”

Kris rolled her eyes, scooping up the cards. “Everyone clean up before I make you sort it alphabetically.”

Jake wandered toward the dishwasher muttering something about selling Vermont Avenue to the highest bidder. Piper stayed back, half-lounging on the carpet, letting the chaotic energy fade.

James sat beside her and handed her a fortune cookie. “Well. That was... illuminating.”

“You held your own,” Piper said, cracking hers open. “‘Great success will come after great suffering.’ Accurate.”

James glanced at his. “‘A new journey begins with clarity of heart.’ Huh.”

Piper didn’t respond.

Not because she didn’t want to, but because her heart gave a weird lurch at the word clarity. Like it was mocking her. Like the universe had slipped her a cookie that knew too much.

She shifted slightly, her fingers still wrapped around the fortune slip. James sat beside her, cross-legged, fidgeting with his cookie wrapper like he was waiting for her to say something first.

She didn’t.

Because she wanted to tell him—God, she wanted to.

She wanted to tell him about the blackout. About how she’d run to the top of Mount Swellview and screamed into the sky until her powers snapped and the city blinked out. About the way the fear had crawled up her spine and made her feel like a walking bomb. About the way she still sometimes woke up unsure if she was glowing or breaking.

She wanted to tell him about Bill Evil’s death. About the things she’d seen in his house—the files, the implication that Blackout had once been a person and maybe still was. About the hollowed-out feeling that came with knowing she’d been too late.

She wanted to tell him about Henry. About how he and Charlotte vanished, always a ghost at the edge of every room. About Jasper's return and the Fresno Girl doll with the drive inside it. About how she still didn’t know if she’d done the right thing by digging it up. By touching any of this.

But mostly, she wanted to tell him how scared she was.

And she couldn’t.

Because James didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Because the things she carried were jagged and radioactive, and dropping them into his lap felt unfair. Or maybe just… impossible. He was nice. He was calm. He brought food and called her babe and never once raised his voice.

But he hadn’t been there.

Not when she needed someone to sit in the quiet with her. Not when she was trembling at the Man’s Nest, pretending she wasn’t about to hurl. Not when she looked Ray in the eye and asked if there was something wrong with her.

But she couldn't tell him.

Because if she did—if she laid it all out, no filters, no pretty edges—he might look at her the way people used to, back when she still required anger management sessions. The way teachers had. The way therapists had. Like she needed fixing.

And even if he didn’t—what then? What would he do?

He’d try to talk her down. Make a list. Say all the right words.

He wouldn’t climb the mountain.

He wouldn’t sit in silence and let her break and not flinch.

Not the way Ray had.

The thought made her chest ache. Guilt clawed up behind it—ugly and unfair and true.

James noticed the flicker of something in her expression and tilted his head, brow furrowing. “What’s going on in there?” he asked gently.

She forced a smile. “Just thinking about dessert.”

“Pie or banana pudding?”

“Both. I deserve both.”

He chuckled and leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. It was soft. Careful.

Piper reached for her water, buying a second to reset her face. “Hey,” she said, before she could stop herself. “You know if there was… something I hadn’t told you—something big—would you be mad?”

James blinked at the question. “I guess it depends on what it is and why you didn’t tell me.”

Her throat tightened. “What if I was trying to protect you?”

He paused. “From what?”

“From… from stuff that might make you look at me differently.”

James’s gaze sharpened. Not angry, just alert. “Piper, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

She nodded again, but it felt like her skull had turned to stone. “Yeah. I know.”

But she didn’t.

Not really.

Not anymore.

She wanted to believe she could. That he could handle it. That maybe there was a version of James who would chase her up a mountain and sit with her in the dark.

But the version sitting beside her now?

He looked at her like she was a puzzle he was still solving.

And she didn’t feel like being solved tonight.

James reached for her hand, threading his fingers between hers. His palm was warm. Familiar.

She let him.

But her eyes were fixed on the fortune now on the ground.

Clarity of heart.

God, if only it were that simple.

Ray was halfway through his second microwaved corn dog and fourth round of pretending he understood Schwoz’s decrypting algorithm when suddenly, with a flash of light and a whump of displaced air, Miles materialized mid-room with Piper in tow.

“Package delivered!” Miles announced brightly.

Piper scowled. “I told you I was fine.”

Miles shrugged, completely unbothered. “Mika says if I don’t teleport-check on you every few hours, I lose dessert privileges.” And with another blink of light, he vanished.

Ray blinked, holding his corn dog. “Did Monopoly end in bloodshed?”

“Emotionally, yes,” Piper said, brushing off imaginary lint as she stalked across the room. “James brought egg rolls and asked questions about taxes. I cheated. Mom declared war. Dad bartered with magnets.” She paused at the foot of the console. “So, you know. Typical.”

Ray smirked, but it didn’t last. Her expression didn’t match her words. She looked distant. Unsettled. Like something had cracked and she wasn’t sure if she should let it break wider or glue it shut.

She stepped up to the console and leaned forward, elbows braced, eyes on the softly pulsing drive.

“Is it still locked?” she asked quietly.

“Barely,” Schwoz mumbled, buried behind a stack of gummy-bear-encrusted notes and a tablet that was probably sticky for reasons no one wanted to know. “We are one algorithm away from total enlightenment. Or a brick of corrupted files and sadness.”

Piper nodded, slow and thoughtful.

Then she turned to Ray.

“I think I want to tell James everything.”

Ray blinked. “Define everything.”

She stopped pacing just long enough to meet his gaze. “About my powers. Henry. Eclipse Industries. All of it.”

Ray sat up straight, fully alert now. “No.”

Jasper, curled in a beanbag under a blanket made from old Kid Danger merch, looked up groggily. “That was fast.”

“Yeah, because it’s not up for debate,” Ray said, rubbing his face. “We just found the drive. We don’t know what’s on it. We don’t know who’s watching. And you want to loop in your boyfriend like this is some rom-com power-couple plot twist?”

Piper crossed her arms. “It’s not about romance. It’s about honesty. He keeps asking what’s going on, and I hate lying to him. If he finds out from someone else—”

“He won’t,” Ray snapped. “Because no one else knows.”

“But he could,” Piper pressed, stepping closer. “Eclipse is still out there. Blackout could come back any minute. What happens if James gets caught in the crossfire and has no idea what he’s even in the middle of just because he happens to be dating me?”

Ray stood, the words hitting too close to everything he was already afraid of. “Then we keep him out of the crossfire.”

“That’s not a strategy,” she shot back. “That’s wishful thinking.”

Schwoz didn’t look up from his screen. “Statistically, telling him increases exposure risk by 47%, and likelihood of a romantic fallout by 72%.”

“Why is that a stat you’ve calculated?” Ray asked.

"I have many files. I label them ‘Possible Piper Choices.’” Schwoz waved vaguely at a folder titled Emotional Detonation Protocols.

Jasper sat up straighter. “I mean… it’s her call, right? Heart stuff is complicated. Maybe listen to your gut. Or your—what’s it called? The internal emotional compass?”

“You mean her brain?” Ray said flatly.

“No, like the inner squishy bit that tells you when someone’s lying or when queso’s gone bad.”

Piper exhaled hard through her nose. “Great. So I’ve got one no, one spreadsheet, and one Disney Channel answer.”

Ray looked at her, really looked at her. The way her shoulders curled in on themselves, the way her fingers kept tapping against her thigh like a Morse code for stress. She was unraveling a little. And she wanted James to be the person she could hand her unraveling to.

But Ray had been in this game long enough to know how fast that could blow up.

“You think you want to tell him,” he said more quietly now, “because you’re tired. Because you’ve been through hell and you’re still trying to claw your way out, and you want someone who’ll make you feel normal again. I get it. I do. But that’s not what he’s there for.”

Piper’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what he’s there for.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know what you’re in the middle of. And he doesn’t. And until this thing with Eclipse is over—until we know who we can trust—bringing him in is not just risky, it’s reckless.”

Her jaw clenched, like she was holding back everything she really wanted to say.

“I just want someone to talk to who doesn’t already know the ending,” she muttered.

Ray felt something in his chest tug, sharp and helpless. He hated that this even had to be a conversation. Hated that she looked so small right now.

Jasper piped up again, softer this time. “I think… whatever you decide, Pipes, it should be because it’s what you want. Not just because you feel guilty for protecting yourself.”

Schwoz made a vague affirmative noise. “That’s… surprisingly mature.”

“Thanks. I drank a kale smoothie earlier,” Jasper said.

Ray sighed and dropped back into his chair. “Look. I’m not saying never. I’m saying not now. If James really cares about you—he’ll wait. You owe him the truth, sure. But you also owe yourself the time to figure out what that truth is.”

Piper was quiet for a long time.

Then finally, she nodded. “Okay. Not yet.”

Ray watched her again. The way her mouth pressed flat. The way she didn’t push back, which somehow felt worse than if she had.

He resisted the urge to reach out.

Instead, he stood, walked back to the microwave, and muttered, “Corn dog’s cold now.”

Schwoz didn’t look up. “You heated it four times.”

Ray scowled. “It’s symbolic.”

Moments later, he had just dropped back into his chair, warm corn dog in hand, when the console gave a sharp ding—not the usual “you’ve got mail” kind, but the you-just-hacked-the-Pentagon kind.

He jolted upright. “What kind of ‘ding’ was that, Schwoz?”

Schwoz didn’t answer. He froze mid-sip of his gummy bear tea, pupils dilating like a cat spotting a ghost.

Ray stood. “Schwoz?”

The screen in front of them began to flicker—once, twice—then lines of encryption blurred and vanished, replaced by a slow-loading progress wheel labeled: DECRYPTION COMPLETE.

Schwoz exhaled hard. “Oh.”

Ray narrowed his eyes. “Okay, again. What kind of ‘oh’?”

“Like… something worked that wasn’t supposed to.” His fingers began to fly across the keyboard, muttering in what might’ve been German or just panicked nerd. “It wasn’t the final algorithm—it was a subroutine. He left a detectable key.”

Ray blinked. “Like—Henry?”

“No. Older. Sloppier. This was Bill. But if he was paranoid and encrypted the drive this hard, it doesn't make any sense...”

Ray’s stomach flipped.

Across the room, Piper moved. Fast.

She was at Schwoz’s side in three strides, gripping the back of a chair like it might keep her upright. Her jaw was set, but Ray could see the tension in her frame like she was bracing for impact.

Jasper stumbled forward from the beanbag, dragging his blanket cape behind him like a sleep-deprived wizard. “Please don’t be more Vin Diesel,” he mumbled.

The console beeped again.

Four folders materialized, crisp and simple on the screen:

ECLIPSE CORE

PROJECT BLACKOUT

NEURAL OVERRIDE

LAST ENTRY

Nobody said anything.

Ray stepped closer, so did Piper and Jasper.

Schwoz hovered his mouse over the first folder.

“Okay,” Ray said, voice low. “Let’s take a look.”

Schwoz double-clicked.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 | Eclipse Core

The folder opened with a soft mechanical chime.

Piper flinched.

Across from her, Ray leaned in. The glow from the screen made the hollows beneath his eyes look darker. As the folder loaded, lines of text and diagrams spilled out—sleek, cold, unmistakably advanced. Her gut twisted at the sharp angles and muted grayscale. Everything looked clinical, futuristic… wrong.

Each file was watermarked in glaring red: PROPERTY OF ECLIPSE INDUSTRIES. CLEARANCE: LEVEL OMEGA.

She didn’t breathe.

A faint crackle of static came from somewhere—maybe the screen, maybe her ears. Her heart was pounding too loud to tell.

Next to her, Schwoz inhaled sharply. “They built all of this in secret,” he murmured, scrolling fast, fingers jittery. “Look at the timestamps. Some of this goes back more than ten years.”

Ten years.

Piper’s lips parted slightly. Ten years ago, she was ten. Henry was still Kid Danger. Swellview had seemed stupid and loud and invincible.

Now it was a target.

She stepped closer to the desk, arms wound tight across her chest like a barrier. The muscles in her shoulders burned.

“What even is it?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.

Schwoz didn’t look up. “Neural tech. Augmented weaponry. Prototype rigs. Centralized control systems…” His voice trailed into something thin and sickened as he clicked into a folder labeled E.N.D. — Eclipse Neural Distribution.

The screen shifted again.

Piper sucked in a breath.

Two 3D maps loaded—one of Swellview, one of Dystopia. They pulsed in eerie sync. Blood-red nodes bloomed across the cities in slow, rhythmic flashes, like some kind of mechanical heartbeat. A virus spreading.

Jasper leaned forward, face ghost-pale in the monitor's glow. “Wait… is that—?”

Schwoz zoomed in on the Swellview map. Instantly, the screen lit up with targets. Schools. Hospitals. City Hall. The courthouse. News stations. Every major public building. Even neighborhoods—her neighborhood—outlined in perfect concentric rings.

It looked like a war game.

“They mapped the entire city,” Ray muttered, his voice gone gravel-low.

Piper’s mouth moved before she realized she was speaking. “This isn’t just surveillance.”

Her tone startled even her.

“This is a rollout plan.”

Schwoz gave a grave nod. “Mass deployment. Neural override across civilian populations. Controlled behavior. Impulse suppression. They’re preparing to turn Swellview into a hive.”

Ray exhaled sharply. “Like a puppet city.”

“Not like,” Schwoz corrected, barely above a whisper. “Exactly like.”

No one moved.

The only sound was the hum of the hard drives and the soft whir of the cooling fans, suddenly too loud in the stillness.

Piper's heart rattled in her chest. She couldn’t make it slow down. Her fingernails dug into the sides of her arms, leaving crescents.

Jasper cleared his throat. “Uh. That image in the corner…”

Piper blinked and looked up. Schwoz followed Jasper’s gaze and clicked.

Another schematic opened—this one rougher, grayer. An underground vault, half-collapsed. Jagged fencing surrounded it like a cage.

At the center: a metal pod, cracked open. A headset rested beside it, split down the middle like a cracked skull.

Piper’s breath caught. A jolt of ice rushed down her spine.

“I’ve seen that,” she said, voice sharp. “In Bill Evil’s lair. Or something close to it.”

The words tasted like metal in her mouth.

Jasper stiffened. Something flickered in his face—recognition. Fear. Guilt. “That’s the vault Henry, Charlotte, and I found. In Dystopia.”

Ray’s head snapped toward him. “What?”

Jasper winced like he’d been slapped. “I know. I should’ve said something. But it was already half-destroyed when we found it. It looked sabotaged. From the inside. We saw the override gear, but we didn’t know what it was.”

Ray’s voice sharpened. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?”

“I wanted to!” Jasper said quickly. “But then I got separated from them. Everything spiraled—Bill’s death, Piper’s blackout, the drive—I didn’t even know if any of this was still relevant. There hasn’t been a single second to breathe.”

Piper stared at him. Her jaw trembled before she could lock it. “You guys knew six months ago this was happening?”

“We didn’t know how big it was,” Jasper said, shrinking under her eyes. “Charlotte tried to pull data from the vault, but the encryption was insane. That’s why they came back—to get Bill’s original copy.”

Piper turned back to the screen. Her vision fuzzed at the edges.

Ray’s jaw was clenched hard enough to crack teeth. “The same evidence we had to dig out of a buried doll in the Hart backyard.”

Piper flinched.

Schwoz was still scrolling, his eyes scanning furiously. “And now we have it,” he said softly. “Everything they were trying to get to us.”

A new folder opened with a click. The screen flickered, then flooded with documents—transcripts, financial logs, grainy stills from security cameras. Boardroom meetings. Budgets. Votes.

One document blinked into focus, tagged with bold red type:

Authorization: Silas Crowe
Asset 7 incident — containment failed
Override v3.2 unsuccessful — consider Dystopia fallback
Human test subject retained: condition unstable

Piper’s stomach dropped.

“Silas Crowe…” she whispered.

Ray furrowed his brow. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

No one answered.

Her ears were ringing now. Her chest was too tight. She could feel it in her fingertips, the start of a surge. She clenched her hands into fists.

Then her eyes locked on a new file.

It didn’t have a thumbnail.

Just a blinking folder.

PROJECT BLACKOUT

Her voice barely sounded like hers. But it came out, clear and final.

“Open it.”

Schwoz hesitated. Jasper turned toward her, concern etched deep across his face. “Piper, maybe we should slow down—”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

“Open it,” she repeated.

Her voice was ice.

And no one argued. Not Ray. Not Jasper. Not even Schwoz.

Then Schwoz clicked.

The screen flickered—once, twice—and began to load.

The first file was an image.

A containment pod. Thick glass, reinforced steel, covered in biohazard warnings and power seals. Inside: a man.

At least… that’s what he had been.

He hung suspended, barely upright, cables drilled into his arms, spine, chest. Like a puppet with a thousand strings. Muscle-heavy frame. Combat-ready. Enhanced. The kind of build that made you think twice before breathing wrong.

But his face—

Scrambled. Blurred beyond recovery. Not just censored. Erased.

Piper didn’t realize she’d stepped back until she heard Jasper’s voice behind her.

“Why can’t we see his face?”

“Redacted,” Schwoz said grimly. “Hardwired into the file. Someone didn’t just hide it—they scrubbed it at the root.”

“Because they knew someone would come looking,” Piper said.

She hadn’t meant to speak. But the words were true the second they left her mouth.

Another file opened.

This one was uglier.

A video—blurry, jerky—of the same man strapped into a chair, head restrained, limbs twitching as if reacting to an invisible current. Monitors lit up in the background: vitals, waveforms, neural readouts.

And then: a voice.

Bill Evil.

“Subject 7 shows initial promise. Neural override integration successful on the third application. Reflex compliance increasing.”

The camera zoomed in.

The man’s mouth moved. Mumbled something.

He was trying to speak. Or scream. Maybe both.

“Response to commands inconsistent. Subject disregards base-level directives unless issued by specific personnel. Will only respond fully to Crowe.”

Piper’s stomach dropped.

Ray blinked. “That’s the guy from the board files.”

Schwoz nodded once. “And apparently, the only one this thing listens to.”

The next video started automatically.

Same room. The man now thrashing violently in restraints. Sirens blaring in the background. Two techs ran past the camera, shouting about “emotional instability spikes.”

“Override breaking down,” Bill's voice rasped through. “Subject exhibits self-direction. Aggression escalating. Recommending isolation, but Crowe refuses to stand down. Believes pain triggers performance gains. I disagree.”

A pause.

“We’re not controlling him. We’re feeding him.”

Piper’s chest tightened. She could feel her pulse in her throat. Too fast. Too loud. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

She could still hear Bill’s whisper from six months later: He infects from the inside. He twists the strongest until they think they’re the threat.

Another file.

Surveillance photo. Aftermath of an attack.

Piper didn’t need the timestamp to know this was old. Six months ago. Maybe more.

Concrete blackened. Vehicles overturned. Metal streetlights warped like taffy. Burn marks scorched deep into pavement—like something had exploded from inside the ground.

In the center of the shot, barely visible: a man walking away from the carnage. Calm. Upright. Untouched.

Schwoz pointed. “Post-override spike. That's him. Still operational. Still in control.”

Jasper's voice was barely a whisper. “What even is he?”

Schwoz didn’t answer right away.

Then, “He’s a man. That’s the worst part. All vitals read as human. Heart. Brain. Blood. Just… altered.”

“But not replaced,” Piper said, her voice distant.

“No,” Schwoz said. “Just corrupted.”

Piper stared at the figure on the screen.

She didn’t know who he was. But she knew what he did. Ambushed Henry and Charlotte. Nearly killed Jasper. Watched them. Watched her.

And he wasn’t some experiment gone wrong.

He was a man who had been offered this—and took it.

Another file.

Incident logs.

UNAUTHORIZED STRIKE : Research Facility Dystopia.
Status : Five injured. One fatality. Override triggered manually. Subject recalled via suppression field.
Notes : Subject displayed euphoric response post-engagement.

INCIDENT 13: Civilian warehouse breach.
Status: Three presumed dead.
Notes: Subject initiated contact without command. Override failed. Subject did not retreat.

DEVIATION REPORT – CROWECOM #14: “Do not reset him. I want to see how far he’ll go.” — S.C.

Jasper flinched. “He’s not malfunctioning. He’s… performing.”

Piper couldn’t breathe.

She could feel them watching her—Ray, Schwoz, Jasper—but she stayed frozen. She couldn’t let any of it show. Couldn’t let it spill over.

She could barely hold it in.

A final video file auto-loaded.

Footage of the lab again. The man, restrained and still. Bill Evil speaking, faster now. Panicked.

“Override doesn’t hold under emotional pressure. Every time he’s triggered, he destabilizes. But Crowe thinks it’s worth it. Thinks he’s unlocking something bigger. I don’t know. I don’t care anymore. All I know is he’s not ours. He hasn’t been for a long time.”

Bill’s voice cracked.

“We made a monster. And now we’re watching him enjoy it.”

That was it.

No grand finale. No final reveal.

Just silence.

Piper stared at the screen. The still image of the man in the tank burned into her eyes.

She felt like she was underwater. Like someone had pressed their hands to her ears and held her under.

Jasper took a hesitant step toward her.

“Pipes—”

She shook her head once. Not hard. Not loud.

But it was enough.

He stopped.

Good.

If he touched her, she might break.

Ray finally spoke. His voice sounded older than it had a moment ago.

“So this is who we’re up against.”

Schwoz nodded. “And this was six months ago.”

Piper’s throat worked around a word that didn’t come.

Six months ago, this thing had already been loose. Already choosing its own path. Already hurting people. And now… it was watching them.

It was watching her.

She exhaled slowly, voice raw. “What kind of person looks at that and decides to stay that way?”

Schwoz answered without hesitation. “One who doesn’t want saving.”

Ray’s jaw clenched. “One who chose to be a monster.”

And this time, Piper didn’t argue.

She just stared at the screen.

Another folder opened.

The screen went black. Not off—waiting. Then, with a flicker, white text bloomed across the void like a knife through darkness:

SUBJECT 7 – NEURAL OVERRIDE COMPATIBILITY: 98.2%
ENHANCEMENT PROFILE: CORE CONDUIT TRANSFER
EMOTIVE CONVERSION STABILITY – HIGH

The words looked clinical.

But they felt like a threat.

Piper’s stomach twisted. The words emotive conversion clung to her like static. She could feel them settling behind her eyes, itching to make sense.

“What’s… emotive conversion?” Jasper asked, his voice already uneasy.

No one answered.

Not right away.

Schwoz didn’t look up. He didn’t need to.

Because the next file answered everything.

It opened with a whir and a low buzz, like something had been plugged in wrong. Across the monitor, a full-body diagnostic appeared—only it wasn’t a medical scan. Not just bones and tissue.

It was electricity.

A nervous system, lit up like a power grid. Threaded with raw energy. Violet streaks pulsed like lightning through muscle and marrow, forming something almost too alive. The spine glowed white-hot. The brain pulsed.

The body didn’t just contain power.

It was power.

She could barely speak. “Is that… inside him?”

Schwoz nodded. “The subject’s body is generating the current. Not absorbing. Not channeling. Creating.”

He zoomed into the scan, alongside it—darker lines. Veins of something that didn’t look like energy at all. Black filaments that webbed out from his chest, stretching through his limbs like fractures in glass. As the scan rotated, those shadows seemed to ripple—like they weren’t entirely contained by the body.

Piper’s mouth parted.

“What are those?” Ray breathed.

Schwoz squinted, enhancing the image. The black tendrils almost seemed to pulse back at them.

“Not neural,” he said. “Not standard EM. This is… outside physical norms. Some kind of dark energy field. Or projection.”

Another file opened automatically. A short video.

Surveillance feed—shaky, grainy, night-vision green. A lab corridor torn apart. Concrete cracked. Fluorescent lights shattered and swung from wires. At the far end, the man—Blackout—stood with hands at his sides. And behind him, the shadows on the walls seemed to lean toward him. Stretch toward him.

Then they moved.

Long black streams unpeeled from the floor and walls, curling around his legs, creeping up his shoulders like living things. They pooled at his feet, then shot forward, wrapping around the legs of fleeing lab techs. The shadows pulled them back—screaming.

The clip ended abruptly.

Piper flinched. Her pulse skittered.

“He doesn’t just control electricity,” she whispered. “He controls… shadows?”

Schwoz’s face was pale. “Not normal shadows. These are—extensions. Like tendrils. Manifestations of something tied to the override. They respond to his emotional state the same way the electricity does.”

Jasper looked sick. “So he can short a city and pull you apart with the dark at the same time. Great.”

But Piper was barely listening.

Her mind was reeling. Because it wasn’t just the memory of streetlights popping or power lines sparking that haunted her.

It was all the times she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye—shadows bending the wrong way when she was upset. The creeping black along the edges of her bedroom after a nightmare. The way the dark sometimes felt thicker, heavier around her when she was scared.

She’d told herself it was just fear. Just adrenaline.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Another screen opened beside it. Timestamps. Chart spikes. A cold log of cause and effect:

Electromagnetic field output : Tethered to emotional state.
Triggers : Rage. Grief. Betrayal. Fear
Override compliance unstable during Peak Events. Subject has survived lethal EM surges without degradation

Her mouth went dry.

She didn’t need anyone to explain it. She already understood.

She had felt it.

The heat under her skin. The thrum in her chest like a second heartbeat. The static in her teeth. That feeling like the world was pulling apart and she was the one doing the tearing.

Her hands dropped to her sides as she took a step closer to the screen. Her reflection floated over the pulsing neural scan—transparent, fractured, faint.

“I’ve felt that,” she whispered. “That… pressure. That build-up. Like I’m going to crack from the inside.”

Ray’s head turned sharply. He looked at her like she’d said something forbidden.

But she couldn’t stop.

She stepped closer again, close enough that the glow lit her face in strange shadows. “What does it mean?” she asked, quieter now. “Tell me it doesn’t mean what I think it does.”

No one spoke.

Because no one could make it better.

The next file played automatically.

A test video.

Subject 7 sat in a containment chair. Arms locked down. Head restrained. Wires everywhere. The sound of humming filled the room—faint, high-pitched, and constant.

A voice offscreen—emotionless, rehearsed—said, “Induce Trigger B.”

The lights dimmed.

Piper held her breath.

The man in the chair jerked once. Then again. His face was still blurred, but the movement was undeniably human—and undeniably wrong. The air around him shimmered.

And then the room emptied of light.

It wasn’t a flicker.

It was a pull.

Like all the electricity in the space had been ripped from the wires and shoved into him. The monitors burst red. Sparks danced in the air.

The man opened his hands—

And a wave exploded from his chest, knocking the camera sideways in a burst of static.

The file cut out.

No sound. No commentary. Just that hum still echoing in her head.

Piper turned to the others slowly.

She felt brittle. Like if someone poked her, she’d shatter.

“He’s like me,” she said, barely audible.

“No,” Ray answered instantly, like he’d been ready for it. “You are not like him.”

She looked at him then.

Really looked.

And for the first time, she let him see the fear.

Not fear of Blackout. Not even fear of the data.

Fear of herself.

“You’ve seen what I can do,” she said. “You’ve seen what happens when I get overwhelmed.”

“Yeah,” Ray said. “And I’ve seen you stop.”

Her arms wrapped around herself. Tighter. “What if I hadn’t?”

“But you did.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point.”

He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t trying to win. He was just trying to hold her up with his voice.

But it wasn’t enough.

A new diagnostic popped up on screen.

Piper didn't want to look. But she did.

Override integration : Stable but volatile
Subject channels emotional trauma into destructive output. No upper limit for EM surges. Loss of awareness common beyond threshold
Self-recognition during episodes : minimal

Ray cursed under his breath.

“He doesn’t even know what he’s destroying.”

Schwoz shook his head. “He does.”

They all turned to him.

He scrolled to the bottom of the file—highlighted a line.

Override functional. Subject displays deliberate behavior.
Targets fear. Prefers pain. Exhibits satisfaction post-engagement.

Piper didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Jasper’s voice was hoarse. “He enjoys it.”

Schwoz nodded. “The override gave him power. But the cruelty? That was already there.”

Ray looked at her again.

And this time, she was standing still—but barely holding herself together.

She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t shaking.

But she wasn’t present either.

She was just bracing for impact.

“You’re not him,” Ray said again, softer this time.

She didn’t answer.

Because the question wasn’t whether she was him.

The question was whether she could become him.

And no one had an answer for that.

The final file wasn’t labeled.

No project tag. No serial number. No redacted banner or Eclipse watermark.

Just a single frame. A still shot of a dimly lit lab—old and flickering—as the file loaded without a menu, a warning, or even a name.

Schwoz clicked it open.

The screen jolted. Static fluttered across the bottom. And then: motion.

Bill Evil.

Alive. But barely.

He sat slouched in front of the camera, as if the act of sitting had exhausted him. His skin looked thin and stretched. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, like even in the silence, he expected to be interrupted. But his frame was fuller than when she’d seen him days ago. The decline hadn’t fully sunk in yet.

Not physically, anyway.

But his mind was already unraveling.

Piper felt something seize in her chest.

The last time she saw him—barely a week ago—he’d looked like a ghost. All bones and shivers and prophecy. He had clutched his chest like it was the only thing holding him together and warned her, “You’re in more danger than you know.”

She hadn’t believed the full weight of it then.

Now, she did.

Now, she felt it.

The screen flickered. Bill leaned forward.

No smugness. No mad scientist grin. Just exhaustion. Just rot.

His voice rasped through the static, dry and broken.

“If you’re watching this, then I’m already dead.”

Piper’s breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

The monitor light made her reflection flicker across the screen—ghostlike, fragile, too young for this.

“I never thought I’d make something I couldn’t control,” Bill said. “That’s the problem with ambition. You start thinking you’re smarter than consequences.”

He coughed—harsh, wet—and wiped blood onto his sleeve like it was just another detail.

“I built the first override model myself. Thought I could take pain—human pain—and make it useful. Like it was voltage. Like it could be… converted.”

“But pain doesn’t bend. It builds.”

Piper’s hands tightened into fists. She could already feel the buzz under her skin. A hum rising in her teeth. But she didn’t look away.

Bill reached offscreen and dragged a clipboard into frame.

“Subject 7. Human male. Mid-twenties. High cognitive retention. Emotional instability. Physically resilient. Ideal candidate for empathic tether conditioning.”

Her skin went cold.

He set the clipboard down with trembling fingers.

“He was the perfect match for what they wanted. And I didn’t stop them. I watched it happen. Watched the override break him. Then rewire him. Until he wasn’t just following commands…”

Bill’s eyes lifted to the camera—dark, hollow.

“…he started to enjoy them.”

That word sat heavy in the air.

Like poison. Like truth.

“He stopped hesitating,” Bill whispered. “That’s when I knew. We hadn’t built a soldier. We’d made something worse.”

The camera shuddered slightly. A glitch passed over the screen, like even the device recording him couldn’t stand it.

“He listens to one voice now. Only one. Silas Crowe. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but if Silas says stop—he stops. If Silas says kill…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Piper swallowed hard.

Her vision blurred for a moment, and she realized her hands were shaking—not from fear, but from pressure. That too-familiar thrum deep in her chest. Building.

“We called him Blackout,” Bill said. “Because when he shows up… everything ends. Power. Light. Trust. By the time you see him, it’s already too late.”

Jasper shifted beside her. Close—but not touching.

“I kept records,” Bill rasped. “Everything I could save. They’re in this drive. I don’t know if it’s enough. I don’t know if anyone will listen in time.”

“Eclipse doesn’t want control anymore. They want evolution. And if they finish what they started…”

He leaned closer to the lens. His voice thinned into something between a whisper and a warning.

“…Blackout won’t be the last.”

That landed harder than anything else.

The override.

The conditioning.

The power.

All of it… meant to be replicated.

“The others didn’t survive,” Bill murmured. “Failed hosts. Fried systems. Burned out from the inside. Subject 7 was the first one to live through it.”

A short, sharp pause.

“And if you’re seeing this… I’m sorry. I made a monster. And now the city’s paying the price.”

He didn’t ask for forgiveness. He didn’t explain.

The feed cut. No timestamp. No outro.

Just black.

Silence.

And then—

The lights in the Man’s Nest flickered.

Then burst on. Then off.

Then all on again—brighter than they were meant to be. Too fast. Too many. Like the whole room had become a strobe light.

Red. Green. White. Yellow.

Christmas in hell.

Ray jumped. Schwoz backed away from the console.

“Piper—” Jasper started.

But she already knew.

It was her.

The pressure. The power. It was bleeding out of her, uncontrolled, unraveling through the circuits.

She sucked in a breath. Tried to hold it. Tried to tuck it all back in.

Too late.

The elevator lights blew out. The ceiling track sparked. A security monitor cracked with a sharp pop.

And then—

Stillness.

The power dimmed. The lights stabilized. The air buzzed like an aftershock.

Piper stood in the middle of it.

Too bright. Too still.

Her reflection stared back at her from the blank monitor.

She looked like herself.

But didn’t feel like herself.

Ray took a careful step forward. “Piper—”

She shook her head once. No words. Just motion.

And walked.

Out of the room. Out of the Man’s Nest.

Down the stairs, one foot in front of the other like her body remembered how to move even if her mind didn’t.

No one followed.

Not Ray. Not Jasper. Not Schwoz.

They let her go.

She didn’t know if she was grateful or furious.

All she knew was that she needed the air. Needed to feel ground under her feet that wasn’t humming with buried wires.

She stepped outside and stood there on the balcony, barely breathing, heart still racing like the lights had gotten in.

The sky was a dull silver, blank and heavy. The city hadn’t changed. The world hadn’t changed.

But she had.

She’d looked at the monster.

And some part of her had recognized the wiring.

She gripped the railing.

Hard.

Like she could keep herself grounded just long enough to forget the way the static curled around her spine like it was waiting.

And for the first time, Piper understood why Bill Evil had looked so scared.

Because he had seen what came next.

And maybe now—

So had she.

The lights were still buzzing.

Schwoz adjusted the brightness on the console screen, then reached beneath the desk and yanked a charred cable free with a hiss. Sparks spat against the metal, but he barely flinched.

His hands knew what to do.

His mind… didn’t.

Across the room, Ray paced slow, uneven circles like a lion stuck in a cage he hadn’t realized was a cage until the door locked. He hadn't said anything since Piper left. Just kept turning the events over in his head.

Jasper leaned against a pillar nearby, arms folded, silent for once.

The hum of the Man’s Nest—normally a background comfort—felt sharper now. Like it was listening.

Schwoz pushed his chair back from the console. His tools felt heavier than usual. “I’ve stabilized most of the system,” he said quietly. “But we lost the west panel camera and the elevator sensors. She overloaded half the floor’s voltage grid.”

“She didn’t mean to,” Jasper said, too quickly.

“I know,” Schwoz said.

Ray didn’t answer.

He stopped pacing, stood near the railing overlooking the floor below. His back to them.

Schwoz watched him carefully. In all the years they’d worked together, through every explosion, every emergency, every absurd disaster—they had never looked like this after a win.

Because this didn’t feel like a win.

It felt like a confession.

Ray finally spoke. “Ten years.”

His voice was rough.

Schwoz turned slightly. “What?”

Ray turned around, jaw tight. “Ten years. That’s how far those files go back. That’s how long Eclipse has been building this. While I was still out there being Captain Man. Waving at parades. Punching low-level robbers. Right under my nose.”

He laughed, once. Bitter and hollow.

“They built an army. A whole damn future. And I didn’t see it.”

“No one did,” Schwoz said. “They compartmentalized everything. Buried their steps. Even Bill didn’t know the full picture back then.”

Ray shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I should’ve known something was wrong.”

Jasper stepped forward hesitantly. “Ray, come on. This isn't your fault.”

Ray’s eyes snapped toward him. “Isn’t it?”

Jasper froze.

Schwoz interjected gently. “You can blame yourself tomorrow. Right now, we need to figure out what we’re going to do next.”

Ray rubbed a hand over his face and sat down slowly at the edge of the console table. He looked tired—not the ‘ran-out-of-coffee’ tired. The kind that sank into your bones.

“They’re not just trying to control people,” he said. “They’re trying to change them. Make more of him.”

Jasper folded his arms tighter. “And he’s already out there. Watching. Waiting.”

Schwoz nodded once. “And Piper…”

The words stuck.

He didn’t finish them.

But they all knew what he was going to say.

And then—

Footsteps padded across the floor—familiar, light, measured.

No one turned.

They didn’t have to.

Piper stopped a few paces away, still in the same clothes, same shoes, same everything—but she looked… smaller somehow.

Or maybe it was just that she’d seen too much.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, arms wrapped around herself like the only thing keeping her upright was the silence.

Then she cleared her throat. “Can someone take me home?”

Her voice was quiet. Almost steady. Almost.

Schwoz stood first.

Then Jasper.

“We’ll go with you,” Schwoz said gently.

Ray didn’t move.

Until he did.

He crossed the space between them slowly—carefully—like if he made a wrong move, she might shatter. He stopped just in front of her, hands flexing uselessly at his sides.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You good?”

Piper blinked at him, eyes dry but glassy. She didn’t speak.

And then Ray did something he rarely did.

He pulled her in.

His arms wrapped around her—not like a shield, not like a rescue. Just solid and steady and warm, like he could take some of the weight if she let him.

For a second, she didn’t react.

Then, slowly, she leaned forward. Just enough for her forehead to rest against his shoulder.

Not a hug back. Not really. But not nothing either.

Ray didn’t say a word.

Didn’t let go.

She stayed there for a moment. Maybe two. Long enough for Schwoz and Jasper to exchange worried glances.

Finally, Piper exhaled.

Not a sob.

Not relief.

Just… a breath. Like she remembered how.

She stepped back first.

Ray let her go without question.

Piper didn’t look at him. But she nodded once. Grateful. Still not okay—but not alone.

Schwoz grabbed his bag. Jasper handed her the coat she hadn’t asked for. And together, the three of them headed for the elevator—no fanfare, no words.

As the doors closed behind them, Ray stood in the flickering dark, facing the monitors again.

Blackout. Override. Everything they hadn’t seen coming.

It was all still there.

Still blinking.

Still waiting.

The door to Piper’s room creaked open with the kind of caution only Jasper could pull off—half stealth, half “please-don’t-yell-at-me.”

He peeked in.

Piper sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees pulled to her chest, face half-buried in a pillow. The room was mostly dark, save for the soft blue glow of her lava lamp in the corner. Her eyes didn’t move toward the door. But she didn’t tell him to leave either.

Jasper slipped in and closed it quietly behind him.

“They send you in next?” she mumbled, not looking up.

He gave a small shrug. “I volunteered. Your mom tried cookies. Your dad tried… dad jokes.”

She snorted faintly into the pillow. “I heard. They both knocked like they were trying to sell me insurance.”

He crossed the room, hesitating near her desk. “Schwoz tried too. Left a note. Something about recalibrating your internal voltage resonance. Sounded vaguely threatening.”

Piper didn’t answer. Her shoulders shifted, like maybe she was laughing, but nothing came out.

Jasper sat down on the floor beside her bed, arms resting on his knees. He didn’t look at her directly—just watched the lava lamp bubble.

“I’m glad you let me in,” he said after a beat.

She sighed. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m literally sitting on your carpet in the dark. We’re way past weird.”

Silence.

The kind that filled up a room without suffocating it.

After a moment, Piper said quietly, “I missed this.”

Jasper glanced up. “The lava lamp?”

“No. You.”

He blinked.

“Oh,” he said, softer. “Yeah.”

She nodded, resting her chin on her knees. “Before you came back. After I moved. I know we still texted each other a lot, but … it wasn’t the same as this. I missed the way you always made everything sound ten percent dumber than it was.”

“Thank you?”

“That’s a compliment.”

He smiled softly. “I missed you too, Pipes.”

A pause.

She finally looked down at him. Her eyes were puffy but dry now. “I mean… it sucked. You being gone. You, Charlotte, Henry. And then when stuff started getting weird, I kept thinking—if Henry were here, he’d know what to do.”

Jasper nodded slowly. “Yeah. He usually did.”

She hesitated. “Except when he didn’t. And then he’d panic. And Charlotte would roll her eyes and save us.”

“Yeah,” Jasper said with a small smile. “Classic team dynamic.”

“I was never part of that team,” she murmured. “Not until the end. Before that, I was just the annoying little sister.”

“You were the one we always had to make excuses for,” he agreed. “But that didn’t mean you weren’t part of it.”

Piper gave him a look, the kind she used to reserve for people who stole her fries. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m just saying… we always knew you’d end up in a mess somehow," Jasper said.

She groaned. “Wow. Thanks.”

“I mean that in a weirdly proud kind of way,” he added quickly. “Like… we all fought bad guys and wore ridiculous costumes and disguises, and somehow you’re the one with actual powers and a legal career.”

She buried her face in the pillow again. “Cool. I’m winning the worst timeline.”

Jasper leaned his head back against her nightstand, arms still looped around his knees. “Henry used to say that no matter how smart he was, Charlotte would always be two steps ahead. And no matter how fast he ran, you’d still find a way to blow something up before he got there.”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“It kinda is,” Jasper said. “You were chaos. You are chaos. But you’re also—you’re still here. And you’re still you. After everything.”

Piper’s voice was small. “I don’t feel like me right now.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But you will again. You always do.”

After a long pause, Piper asked, “Do you think Henry’s okay?”

Jasper didn’t answer right away.

“I think… if he saw what you did today, he’d be proud.”

She blinked. “For what? Screaming, short-circuiting the Nest, and almost frying Schwoz?”

“For surviving,” Jasper said. “For staying. For not letting it break you.”

Another long pause.

Then, almost too quiet to hear, “I’m scared.”

Jasper looked up at her. No jokes this time. Just honesty. “Yeah. Me too.”

She pulled the pillow closer. “It’s like… there’s this thing inside me, and it’s getting louder. And I don’t know if it’s me or the powers or something else entirely. I feel like I’m holding my breath all the time, waiting to… I don’t know. Explode again.”

Jasper nodded. “Then we’ll get better at breathing. Together.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s the dumbest metaphor—”

“Shut up, it’s supportive,” he said, throwing a nearby sock at her.

She batted it away, but didn’t hide her smile.

After a beat, she murmured, “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“I never did,” he said. “You just kept threatening to tase me.”

She gave him a tired look. “You usually deserved it.”

He shrugged. “Not arguing.”

Piper looked down at him, her voice quieter now. “I meant what I said. I missed you.”

Jasper stood slowly, brushing lint from his hoodie. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

He hesitated.

Then he leaned down and gently pulled her into a hug—brief, awkward, one-armed—but solid.

Piper didn’t return it right away. But she didn’t pull away either.

When he let go, she cleared her throat. “Okay. You hugged me. You can leave now.”

Jasper grinned. “Wow. Still heartfelt as ever.”

He moved toward the door, but paused just before opening it.

“Hey… if it gets too loud in your head again? You don’t have to be alone with it.”

Piper didn’t say anything.

But as he stepped out into the hallway, she murmured, “I know.”

And this time, she meant it.

Ray was mid-sip of a lukewarm espresso—because Schwoz had insisted “the bitterness boosts neuron efficiency”—when the glass door to Downtown Brown slammed open like the first ten seconds of a disaster movie.

“Sidney! I’m going to kill you!” Piper’s voice cut through the café like a meteor through drywall.

Ray froze, cup halfway to his mouth. Schwoz didn’t even blink—just adjusted his sunglasses with one finger and muttered, “Ah. So, she found out.”

Jasper, who was on watch-Piper-duty today, barreled in after her, breathless, clearly having lost round one. “Piper! Just—wait, can we talk about this?”

Too late.

Piper stormed toward the table near the window, where Sidney and Oliver sat—huddled like two raccoons caught mid-snack raid.

Sidney nearly tipped his iced latte trying to hide behind a napkin dispenser. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

Piper’s eyes were burning. Not glowing—but close. Ray could see it from here. Not real light. Just heat. Grief. Rage. Something she hadn’t let out last night.

“Oh? So you didn’t give my number to Douchebag Darren?”

Sidney went still. Visibly gulped. “Oh. That. Yeah. I did do that.”

Ray blinked slowly. “I thought she broke up with Darren in, like, seventh grade.”

“She did,” Schwoz muttered, ripping open his third sugar packet. “But he snapchats her every year. Like clockwork. A ukulele, no shirt, and a tragic song about ‘regret.’”

Ray tensed as Piper’s fists slammed down on Sidney’s table. The iced coffee toppled like it knew better. Cream splattered across the table—and still, she didn’t blink.

“You know how much I despise him,” she snapped, voice low but seething. “He’s such a—”

“Douchebag?” Oliver offered, peeking up from behind the napkin holder like it might save him.

Piper whipped her glare toward him. A beat. Then she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Exactly.”

“Can we just—breathe?” Jasper asked, raising both hands. “I really don’t want to be the one who calls your dad again. He cries, Piper.”

“I told you—” Piper growled, her eyes laser-locked on Sidney, “—you only give out my number for emergencies or ice cream discounts. That’s it.”

“It was an emergency!” Sidney yelped, raising his hands like a white flag. “He said he was dying! Of loneliness! And thirst!”

Ray leaned back in his chair, watching the chaos unfold like a sitcom rerun he didn’t remember guest-starring in. Maybe he was just too tired to laugh. He caught a flicker of something in Jasper’s face—panic fading into resignation.

Piper jabbed a manicured nail at Sidney like she was selecting a target on a touchscreen. “That’s not how those words work! And out of everyone in this city, you gave my number to him? I have a boyfriend, Sidney. James.”

“But he gave me, like, thirty bucks!”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Jasper blinked. “...You sold her out for thirty bucks?”

“I was broke!” Sidney squeaked.

Jasper stepped aside like he was unclipping the leash on a pit bull. “Yeah. Okay. Nope. She can have this one.”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Character development.”

Suddenly, Piper whipped out her phone. Her expression darkened—feral, focused, the kind of look that usually ended with someone crying into a milkshake.

“Who are you calling?” Oliver asked, eyeing the phone like it was counting down.

Piper didn’t answer. Just smirked—that slow, dangerous kind of smile Ray had only seen during moments like this. It said: you earned this. And it gave him goosebumps.

She lifted the phone to her ear. “Oh, hey Zoe,” she said sweetly, too sweetly. “Yeah, I’m just here with your boyfriend. Mhm. No, he’s not sick. He’s at Downtown Brown. With Oliver. Playing League of Losers.”

“Piper, no!” Sidney cried, trying to snatch the phone away.

But it was too late. Piper ended the call with the dramatic poise of someone slamming a gavel—and turned to Sidney with a smile dipped in arsenic.

“Use that thirty bucks to buy yourself some aloe vera for that burn, bitch.”

Ray coughed, choking slightly on his coffee. Even Schwoz gasped.

Oliver gave a helpless shrug. “In fairness, he did lie.”

Sidney slumped in his seat like a man awaiting trial.

Piper adjusted the strap of her sundress, took a deep breath, and turned—catching sight of Ray and Schwoz for the first time. Jasper was right behind her, mouthing “please don’t burn down the café”.

Ray met her eyes. She looked furious. But Ray wasn’t buying it. Not today. Not after what she’d seen.

“Everything okay?” Ray asked, keeping his voice light even as something clenched behind his ribs.

Piper blinked like she was just now registering him. “Oh. You’re here.”

Schwoz raised his cup. “We needed a coffee break.”

She exhaled hard and slumped into the seat across from them. Not with drama—just that raw, bone-deep kind of tired that no nap could fix.

“I’m so tired,” she said, more to the universe than to them.

Ray slid his other untouched espresso toward her. “It’s awful. You’ll hate it.” He wasn’t sure if he meant the drink or the week.

She accepted it anyway. “Perfect.”

From the next table, Sidney whimpered softly.

Ray watched her sip his espresso like it owed her money. She didn’t even flinch at the bitterness—just stared ahead, jaw tight, eyes distant. The espresso was objectively terrible. It tasted like regret and burnt gravel. But she took another sip anyway.

That was the thing about Piper.

She didn’t spit things out when they were awful. She swallowed them down and kept going.

“Rough morning?” he asked, keeping it light—too light.

The air between them felt heavier than her entrance had suggested. Not rage. Not lightning. Static. The kind that prickled behind your eyes when you hadn’t cried yet but needed to.

She kept her eyes on the table. “Something like that.”

A beat passed. Jasper hovered near the counter, unsure if he should sit or give her space. Schwoz had migrated to the condiment station, methodically pocketing cinnamon packets with all the precision of someone who needed to keep his hands busy.

Ray leaned forward slightly. “You want to talk about it?”

Piper let out a breath—not quite a sigh, more like something escaping.
“You ever feel like everyone’s moving on… and you’re just stuck in the fallout?”

Ray didn’t answer immediately. He could’ve said yes. Could’ve pointed to a dozen moments in the past twenty years where that sentence hit a little too close. But he didn’t. He just looked at her, this girl—this young woman—sitting across from him, dressed in sunshine and fury and a layer of grief she hadn’t figured out how to name yet.

He thought about the drive. About Bill Evil’s voice crackling through the speakers—don’t trust anyone.

About the schematics. The redacted names.

Project Blackout, blacked out. Like a joke with blood in its teeth.

About the way Piper’s hands had trembled when the last file played. About the way her powers had flared—quiet at first, then impossible to ignore. Lights stuttering, sparking, the Man’s Nest flickering like Christmas in hell. Like her grief had overloaded the wiring.

He hadn’t seen her since last night. Not until she came in swinging at Sidney like a hurricane in heels.

Ray sat back. “Yeah. I’ve felt that.”

She finally looked at him.

Not angry. Not snarky. Just… tired.

“Why didn’t you say anything last night?” she asked. Her voice was softer now. “When I ran out… you could’ve stopped me.”

“I didn’t want to,” Ray said honestly. “You needed to run. I’ve done it enough times myself to recognize it.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “You let me go.”

“Yeah. And then I stayed up half the night worrying about it. You’re welcome.”

She laughed—short, surprised. A sound closer to human than she’d made all day. “You’re a terrible mentor.”

“I’ve heard worse,” he said, and almost meant it.

Jasper returned with napkins and two smoothies. He slid one toward Piper and gave her a look that said, please, for the love of Swellview, don’t get arrested today.

Piper muttered a quiet thanks, then flicked her eyes back toward Ray. “Thanks for the coffee. And the space. And… the thing with the judge.”

Ray tilted his head. “Which thing?”

She raised a brow. “Oh come on. You think I don’t know? Sudden food poisoning the night before my case? Schwoz’s sudden interest in ‘organic culinary sabotage’? You dosed the guy.”

Ray shrugged, playing it off. “He seemed... overworked.”

Piper smirked. “So you’re admitting it?”

“No,” Ray said. “I’m denying it in a way that makes me sound cool.”

Piper shook her head. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hesitated, then nudged the espresso back toward him. “I actually hated this.”

He chuckled. “Told you.”

Another beat passed. Comfortable, this time.

Schwoz returned with what Ray prayed wasn’t a cup of goat milk. Jasper retreated to hover near Sidney and Oliver, likely preparing a full-blown lecture about betrayal, trust, and the tragic moral decay of selling someone’s number for thirty bucks.

Piper adjusted the strap of her dress, eyes still down. “What happens next? With the drive. With all of it?”

Ray’s smile faded. “We keep digging. Keep reading. There’s still a lot we don’t know. But Bill Evil gave us a map. Maybe not the full terrain. But something.”

“And if it leads to something worse?”

Ray looked at her then. Not as Captain Man. Not as the guy who used to punch crime in the face. Just as Ray.

“If it leads to worse, then we do what we’ve always done. We face it. As a team.”

Her eyes searched his. For what, he wasn’t sure.

But after a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

Then, softer, “Thanks. For not treating me like a kid.”

Ray looked down at the espresso. Then back at her.

“You stopped being a kid a long time ago, Piper.”

She looked like she wanted to say something more—but before she could, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and groaned. “Miss Shapen wants me to review twelve possible outfit choices for her postponed courtroom return. I wish I was kidding.”

Ray smirked. “Send her a clown costume. Tell her it’s empowering.”

Piper stood, smoothing her dress. “You joke, but she’d probably wear it.”

She took one last glance at him. Their eyes met.

Then she turned and left—heels clicking, storm clouds in a sundress, with Jasper jogging to keep up.

Ray leaned back in his chair. The fallout was still coming. But at least now, she wasn’t facing it alone.

Schwoz was uncharacteristically still. He hadn’t touched his drink. His sunglasses were folded neatly beside him on the table.

Ray broke the silence first. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Schwoz didn’t look up. “You sure?”

Ray hesitated. “…No.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the hum of the café filling the space where words couldn’t reach. Somewhere behind the counter, a blender groaned to life, too loud for how quiet everything felt.

Then Schwoz finally spoke—soft, but certain. “She’s changing.”

Ray’s eyes flicked to him. “You mean emotionally, or—?”

“I mean biologically. Energetically. Everything.” He finally looked up. “That drive… those override logs? The power spikes when Blackout activates? They’re not random. And neither is what’s happening to her.”

Ray rubbed his jaw, unsettled. “You’re saying what happened to Piper… is the same tech Eclipse used to create Blackout?”

Schwoz shook his head slowly. “Not the same. But close enough to share a lineage.”

Ray frowned. “Then why isn’t she… like him?”

“Because she’s Piper,” Schwoz said immediately. “That girl’s been built out of spite and voltage since the day she was born. Whatever hit her in Dystopia—it didn’t consume her. It amplified her.”

Ray leaned back in his seat, stunned for a second. “You think the capacitor didn’t just hit her with energy… it unlocked something?”

Schwoz tilted his head, thoughtful. “Maybe. Or maybe it implanted something. We don’t have enough data. But we do know this: Eclipse built the override to create controllable weapons. Blackout was their only success. Everyone else died.”

Ray looked down at the table, then at the espresso cup Piper had left behind. It still had her lipstick on the rim. He pushed it gently with one finger, his voice low. “So what’s she? A failure? A fluke?”

“I think she’s something they didn’t account for,” Schwoz said. “She was never supposed to be part of this. But she is now.”

Ray exhaled, his tone bitter. “And all of it happened while I was sitting on my ass playing retirement. Ten years. Right under my nose.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Schwoz said gently.

Ray scoffed. “I should’ve. I was Captain Man. I had a base, a team, a whole damn city watching me punch through different criminals each week. And none of us saw this coming?”

“You saw what they wanted you to see,” Schwoz replied, voice quieter now. “You were a distraction. So was Kid Danger and the Danger Force. While you fought goons and saved mascots, Eclipse and Evil Science Corp was building something in the dark.”

Ray didn’t respond. He just stared at the espresso again.

Then, quietly, Schwoz said, “It’s been happening for a while. Ever since she got back from Dystopia.”

Ray finally looked at him. “You think it’s connected to the capacitor?”

Schwoz nodded. “I’d bet my mustache on it.”

Ray blinked. “You shaved that like two years ago.”

“My dignity, then,” Schwoz muttered. He set the espresso down and laced his fingers together. “Whatever that energy sphere was… it didn’t just explode. It transferred something. And from the way Piper described it—the buzzing, the way it started small and grew—I think it bonded with her.”

Ray frowned. “You’re saying she absorbed it?”

“I’m saying something absorbed into her. And it hasn’t let go.”

Ray rubbed the back of his neck, staring out the window. “She didn’t tell me any of this. Not until it all boiled over.”

“She didn’t want to scare you.” Schwoz looked up. “She called me, Ray. When the first blackout hit her campus. She thought she was going crazy. Said it felt like her veins were full of static. She couldn’t think straight.”

Ray turned sharply. “She called you?”

“She called Henry first but he couldn't talk long. Then he disappeared. And she didn’t know who else to trust. She asked for your contact details.” Schwoz’s eyes dimmed a little. “You weren’t talking then. Didn’t keep in touch. After… everything.”

Ray looked away. “After Henry left. When she went off to college.”

Silence again. Not the awkward kind. The kind you feel pressing behind your ribs.

“She never blamed you, you know,” Schwoz said. “Not really. She was angry. But that’s different. She still asked about you. Every time we talked.”

Ray didn’t respond. His knuckles were white against the table.

Schwoz softened. “She cares about you. Even if she’d rather chew glass than admit it.”

Ray exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. That’s a Hart thing.”

He paused. “You think what happened to her—this power—it’s from Eclipse?”

“I don’t know yet,” Schwoz admitted. “But the override tech? The schematics we pulled from the drive? It was all about linking energy conduits to human subjects. It’s possible the capacitor was part of that. A failed prototype. A catalyst.”

Ray sat forward again. “You think she was exposed to something they were developing?”

Schwoz shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But whatever that energy was—it was volatile, unstable. It shouldn’t have just… bonded with her. But it did. Or maybe she bonded with it.”

Ray shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. She didn’t even touch the sphere. It detonated from ten feet away.”

“Yes,” Schwoz said, leaning forward now, hands folded. “But the feedback loop—the chain reaction—it wasn’t just physical. Energy like that, especially when it’s designed for override or fusion tech, can imprint across molecular barriers. Especially if the person nearby has... an unquantified neurological threshold.”

Ray gave him a look. “Schwoz. English.”

Schwoz sighed. “Her brain’s weird.”

Ray blinked. “Okay, yeah, that tracks.”

“But more than that,” Schwoz continued, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “She wasn’t just hit by a weapon. She was hit by intention. That energy wasn’t random—it was designed for manipulation. Override. Reprogramming. But she’s still herself. Which means…”

Ray’s eyes widened a little. “She resisted it.”

“Maybe not consciously,” Schwoz said. “But something inside her said no. And instead of breaking her down like it did to the others… it changed tracks. It merged. That kind of adaptation isn’t just rare, Ray—it’s unheard of.”

Ray sat with that. “So she didn’t just survive it. She won.”

Schwoz was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “For now.”

That silence again. The kind that made Ray’s skin crawl.

Schwoz finally added, “But there’s a danger in that kind of bond. Energy like that—it doesn’t just disappear. If it’s still inside her, it might still be… looking for something.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “You mean like a trigger?”

“I mean like a purpose,” Schwoz said. “Like it’s waiting for instructions.”

Ray swore under his breath. “Great. So she’s got a haunted science ghost in her chest.”

Schwoz didn’t smile. “If we’re right… it might be the same energy they used to stabilize Blackout.”

That made Ray go still.

“Blackout’s not just powerful,” Schwoz went on. “He’s precise. Engineered. Controlled. That kind of override can’t function without an anchor. Something to keep the subject tethered to the programming. That sphere—it might’ve been part of the same project. The precursor.”

Ray rubbed at his forehead. “So if Piper was hit by an earlier version of what made Blackout…”

“She might have the same source code,” Schwoz finished. “Just… without the instruction manual.”

Ray was quiet for a long moment.

“She doesn’t know that,” he said.

“No,” Schwoz agreed. “And I don’t want to tell her. Not yet.”

Ray looked at him sharply. “You’re keeping it from her?”

“I’m protecting her,” Schwoz said. “We don’t even understand the half of this yet. The last thing she needs is to think she’s some kind of ticking time bomb.”

Ray’s eyes darkened. “But what if she is?”

Schwoz didn’t blink. “Then we stop the clock.”

Another long silence.

“She’s not supposed to be glowing. Or shorting out power grids. Or digging graves for Bill Evil.”

“I know.”

“She’s supposed to be in a library somewhere. Flirting with her boyfriend. Failing a torts exam and calling Kris crying about it.”

Schwoz reached across the table and gently tapped the espresso cup. “But that’s not what happened.”

Ray said nothing.

Schwoz leaned back. “And maybe it never could’ve. Not with who her brother is. Not with the city she grew up in.”

Ray finally spoke again, voice lower now. “She’s still not him.

Schwoz nodded, eyes soft. “No. She’s not.”

Ray’s fingers curled loosely around the edge of the table. “Henry carried everything by himself for too long. Took the blame for every fire he couldn’t put out. And I let him.”

His voice didn’t crack. It wasn’t fragile. But something in it had lost the armor.

“She’s not going to end up like that,” Ray said.

It wasn’t a question. Or a hope.

It was a decision.

Schwoz looked at him carefully. “You don’t get to choose how she ends up, Ray.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

“But you can stand beside her.”

Ray met his eyes. “I’m trying.”

Schwoz gave the smallest nod. “Good.”

Ray leaned back, exhaling hard. The espresso cup was empty. The sunlight outside had shifted, angling through the window in slats that cut across the table like prison bars.

“She’s going to find out eventually,” he said.

“I know,” Schwoz replied.

“And when she does…” Ray trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’ll hate that we knew first.”

“She’ll hate me,” Schwoz said quietly. “But I’ll take that. If it keeps her safe a little longer.”

Ray didn’t argue. Just nodded, once.

The silence returned, this time heavier but shared.

Then Schwoz glanced down at the cinnamon packets still sitting beside his elbow—unopened, forgotten.

“She ever tell you why she likes cinnamon so much?” he asked.

Ray blinked. “Uh… no?”

Schwoz gave the smallest smile. “She said it reminds her of when she was little. Henry used to put it in everything—French toast, cereal, hot chocolate. Said it made everything taste like Saturday.”

Ray looked at him. “That sounds like Henry.”

Schwoz’s smile faded. “I think she’s trying really hard to believe it’s still Saturday.”

Ray was quiet at first. “Yeah. Well. Monday’s coming,” he eventually said.

And with that, he stood. Gathered his empty cup. Left the lipstick-marked one untouched.

“I’ll check in with her later,” Ray said. “Make sure she’s okay.”

Schwoz nodded again, but his eyes stayed on the cup. “She’ll say she is.”

Ray paused at the door. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the part I’m worried about.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 22 | Sparkle Squad

The auditorium at Swellview Civic Center still smelled like a mix of hairspray and regret.

Piper stood dead center on the glossy wooden stage, arms crossed, wearing leggings, black-heeled boots, and a pink sweatshirt that said “I Am The Moment” in sequins. Half the other contestants were already stretching, fussing over their eyebrows, or pretending not to size each other up like rival wolf packs with French manicures.

Marla stood beside her, sipping a jumbo boba tea and chewing with clinical detachment. “So… how many of these women do you plan to destroy emotionally before lunch?”

“Depends,” Piper said, scanning the crowd. “How many of them brought up their modeling contracts within the first three minutes?”

"Three so far,” Jasper piped up from behind them, seated cross-legged near the foot of the stage with a clipboard he’d definitely stolen from someone official. “Four if you count the one who ‘interned at Vogue’ which I’m like 90% sure means she folded a sweater at Forever 21 once.”

“I swear to Schwoz, if I hear the phrase ‘natural glow’ one more time, I’m blacking out the grid again,” Piper muttered, so that only Jasper could hear her. He snickered in return.

James—immaculately dressed in slacks and a button-down that somehow still screamed “future senator”—slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re glowing, babe. And not just from caffeine and contempt.”

She tilted her head, mock touched. “Aw. You really do know my love language.”

“Rage and sarcasm,” Marla supplied.

“And unspoken childhood trauma,” Jasper added, without looking up.

James laughed and kissed the side of her head. “You’ve got this.”

Piper almost smiled. Almost. But the nerves were already coiling in her stomach, and somewhere behind her eye sockets, a dull throb pulsed with every overhead light. It wasn’t just stage fright. It wasn’t even the residual burnout from the week’s chaos. It was something else. Something colder.

The auditorium lights dimmed suddenly, followed by a warbled pop from the stage speakers.

“Ugh, not again,” a voice crackled through the sound system—distinct, accented, and very much done with everything.

Piper turned toward the lighting booth. Sure enough, there was Schwoz, hunched over a mess of tangled wires and sliders, wearing a headset that looked like it had been duct-taped together during a tornado. He smacked the console with the flat of his hand, and the lights flickered back to life.

“Do not worry!” he called brightly into the mic. “Only one-third of the fuses are currently at risk of spontaneous combustion. Possibly less.”

Piper waved at him. “You good?”

“I was better before I learned these microphones pick up thoughts,” Schwoz replied, not at all joking.

A whistle blew from backstage. The contestants straightened as Credenza strutted into view in four-inch heels and a headset, clipboard in one hand, the aura of a Roman general in the other. Her blonde hair was in a power bun so tight it looked government-mandated.

“Alright, sparkle squad, listen up!” she barked. “I am your rehearsal coordinator, stage commander, emotional support diva, and—when necessary—psychological warfare specialist. You will refer to me as Miss Fudgers, or ‘Yes, ma’am,’ or preferably nothing at all unless spoken to first.”

Piper’s eyebrows slowly rose. “Credenza is running the pageant?”

“Technically she runs everything,” Marla whispered. “She took over a PTA meeting last week and now controls all after-school bake sales in Swellview County.”

“Miss Fudgers?” piped a voice from the line of contestants.

Everyone turned.

Jana Tetrazini.

Her curls bounced like they had their own publicist, and her smile was just short of a trademark. She wore a blazer-dress combo that said TV anchor by day, popstar by night. And yet... she wasn’t quite the same.

Piper stiffened.

Jana gave a small wave—polite, polished, and perfectly performative. “Sorry to interrupt. I just had a quick question about stage spacing. I don’t want to overshadow anyone by accident.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Piper, too quick to pin down.

Marla made a sound like she was choking on her boba. “Did she just apologize?”

“I think I’m hallucinating,” Piper muttered.

“Jana Tetrazini, being courteous?” Jasper asked. “Should we call a priest?”

James leaned closer, his voice low. “She’s playing nice again. Like at the coffee shop.”

“Which means she wants something,” Piper replied, folding her arms. “Probably my soul.”

“You already sold that in 2014 for better WiFi,” Marla whispered.

Jana’s eyes flicked back to Credenza. “It’s just—this stage is narrow, and I want to make sure I don’t step into someone else’s light.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Piper said sweetly, too sweetly. “You never have trouble finding the spotlight.”

Jana smiled without showing teeth. “Thanks, Piper. That means a lot coming from you.”

Marla coughed into her tea, “Murder.”

Jasper scribbled something on his clipboard. “Should we be documenting this passive-aggressive dialogue for the inevitable Netflix docuseries?”

Credenza, without missing a beat, clapped her hands once—loud enough to silence the air itself. “Eyes front, rhinestones back. We don’t have time for playground drama. Jana, spacing questions go to Schwoz. If the building catches fire, he’s also the person to blame.”

“Delighted,” Schwoz said from the booth, already Googling emergency fire exit protocols on his tablet.

“So what’s the over-under on Jana fake-tripping during rehearsal to seem relatable?” Marla whispered as she adjusted her headband beside her.

Piper smirked. “Already clocked her knee pads. She’s planning a fall.”

“Coward’s move,” Jasper added, flipping to the next page of his clipboard. “True icons fall from grace, not gravity.”

“Or down the Miss Swellview staircase,” Marla muttered. “By accident. Which Piper is still not sorry about, by the way.”

“That was one time,” Piper said. “And legally classified as ‘an unfortunate costume malfunction.’”

Jasper held up a note. “‘Heel caught in glitter boa.’”

Piper shrugged. “More believable than ‘shoved by the girl in the cactus dress.’”

James leaned in again, voice warm and low. “So this is your battleground.”

She grinned sideways. “Welcome to the war.”

James chuckled and squeezed her hand once before slipping away toward the guest seating, leaving Piper surrounded by the buzz of rehearsal prep and the rustle of pageant sashes. She rolled her shoulders back and took a breath. The lights above were hot and dramatic—just the way she liked them—and her heels clicked with satisfying authority as she moved to center stage.

For a moment, everything else faded. No encrypted drives, no powers, no missing siblings or monstrous soul-eaters. Just this: the thrill of competition, the hum of potential glory, and the faintly toxic smell of hairspray and ambition.

You’ve always been good at this, she reminded herself. Spotlights were her native habitat. Pageants were controlled chaos—and if there’s one thing she mastered, it was managing chaos while looking phenomenal.

She caught her own reflection again in one of the mirrored side panels and tilted her head.

Confident. Sparkly. Slightly terrifying. Perfect.

The thud of the side doors opening drew her gaze toward the auditorium's far edges—where four uniformed “security personnel” took their posts at opposite corners of the room.

Danger Force.

Officially? Hired by the city council as a last-minute security team for the pageant after “an alarming number of minor power surges” the previous week. Unofficially? Babysitting her under the pretense of civic duty and discreetly scanning for Eclipse activity.

“Okay,” Credenza barked, pacing down the center aisle like a Broadway stage manager with a vengeance. “Let’s run the walk-and-wave portion. Show me confidence. Show me poise. Show me the reason we had to reinforce the stage supports this year.”

Piper fell into line with the rest of the contestants, hands on hips, boots planted like she was born on a runway. The walk-and-wave segment was usually where people cracked—too much arm swing, too little confidence, smiles that looked like hostage footage. Piper had watched these rehearsals for years from the sidelines, judging silently with a milkshake in one hand and a phone in the other. Now, she was the one under the lights.

And honestly? It felt good.

She watched as the first girl strutted across the stage, all smiles and swinging hair. The choreography was simple: walk, wave, smile, sparkle. But judging by the nervous glances and wobbly heels, you’d think they were being asked to tap-dance on a minefield.

The girl’s walk ended in an awkward finger-gun pose.

Piper blinked. Bold choice.

“Okay, Alyssa,” Credenza called, scribbling something furiously on her clipboard. “Points for enthusiasm. Points revoked for weaponizing jazz hands.”

Alyssa scampered offstage.

Next.

Piper watched with the stillness of a hawk in lipstick. The next contestant’s smile was all upper teeth, her wave borderline robotic. Halfway down the stage, her heel caught on the hem of her gown. She recovered, barely, and flashed an even wider smile as if trying to outrun the memory of that misstep.

Piper didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smirk.

She just filed it away.

Third girl: confident. Polished. Didn’t blink once. That was either focus or an insane amount of waterproof lash glue.

Fourth: tripped slightly on her own train. Giggled to cover it. Cute, but Credenza visibly flinched.

Piper adjusted her posture, arms loosely at her sides, legs braced just enough to absorb the tremble of the floor. She was calm. Maybe too calm.