Kite was still staring at the now-darkened BioLumina platform when William tapped his shoulder.
"You sure you're okay? That thing lit up like the Fourth of July."
Kite nodded slowly, still shaken but trying to mask it. "Yeah. Just... guess I'm more electric than I thought."
William chuckled softly. "Guess so."
Kite's lips curled in a half-smile, but his eyes drifted across the exhibit, still thinking about what Ai said. Tachyon energy. The kind of thing you didn't just find in your average science museum.
Before he could say more, a sound shattered the quiet hum of the gallery: the high-pitched crack of glass breaking. But it wasn't from inside the museum.
It came from outside.
Both boys looked toward the front entrance.
Shouts followed—panicked, urgent voices rising into the air. Then the unmistakable screech of tires and the dull thud of something metallic hitting pavement.
Kite's stomach dropped.
William stepped toward the glass doors. "What the heck is going on out th—"
Kite grabbed his arm. "Stay here."
"Kite—"
But he was already moving, weaving past the confused museum staff and the few students now gravitating toward the front windows. Nobody had a clear view of what was happening yet.
Kite slipped around a side hallway and into a maintenance corridor, checking to make sure no one was watching. He pulled his hoodie up over his head and whispered under his breath.
"AI, let's suit up."
"Activating Paladin Protocol," Ai responded calmly. "Stand by for transformation."
Blue lines of light traced over Kite's skin as the suit formed over him in segments, wrapping around his arms, chest, and legs like liquid metal setting into armor. The helmet formed around his face and the eyes lit up, HUD activating.
Kite exhaled once—then bolted through the rear door that led to the alleyway, circling toward the front of the museum.
The scene outside came into view.
Two men in black jackets were smashing into the back of a jewelry van parked at the curb. One had a crowbar, the other a compact energy disruptor—low-end tech, but strong enough to wreck locks and cause a scene. A third man stood nearby with a bag already filled with stolen merchandise.
Civilians were backing away down the sidewalk, recording on their phones or hiding behind parked cars. A security guard was trying to call for help, but one of the men turned and fired the disruptor in his direction, forcing him to take cover behind a bench.
Kite gritted his teeth and sprinted forward.
They didn't see him coming.
The first guy barely had time to turn his head before Kite slammed into him, shoulder-first, knocking him clean off his feet. The second raised the disruptor—but Kite swiped it from his hand with a flick of his wrist and crushed it under his boot with a satisfying crack.
The third tried to run.
Kite vaulted over a parked scooter and tackled him to the ground, the duffel bag spilling rings and bracelets across the sidewalk like silver rain.
"Guess you're not big on subtlety," Kite muttered as he hauled the guy up and slammed him against the van.
The guy struggled, spitting curses. "Get off me, freak!"
Kite held him there with one hand. "That's not very polite. Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?"
The man struggled again, more desperate this time. Kite stared him down.
Sirens blared in the distance now, weaving through traffic and growing louder by the second.
"Sounds like backup's almost here," Kite said, tilting his head. "Good news for you—you get a free ride in a nice, windowless car. Maybe they'll even let you keep the bracelets."
He let go abruptly. The man slid down the van's side and slumped to the ground, wheezing. That's when he saw it.
The man's sleeve had ridden up during the scuffle—just enough to reveal something on his forearm.
A tattoo.
It was simple, but strange. A black rose. Thorns curling in sharp loops around the stem.
Kite frowned.
It didn't look like a gang tag. Not one he recognized, anyway. But something about it... felt off. Like it meant something.
He made a mental note.
Then turned and bolted, disappearing around the corner just as the police cruisers screeched to a halt.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the side hallway inside the museum, back in his civilian clothes, hoodie pulled up again as he wiped sweat from his brow. William spotted him immediately.
"Dude, what happened?!"
"Robbery," Kite said, voice low. "Outside. Someone already called it in. Just wanted to make sure it wasn't anything serious."
William narrowed his eyes. "You didn't do anything... dumb, right?"
Kite forced a grin. "Define dumb."
William groaned.
But Kite's thoughts were elsewhere. But he eventually brushed it off and the duo continued through the museum, eventually meeting up with the other students and continuing the tour.
The museum trip wrapped up under a dusky orange sky, the last of the sun casting long shadows over the building's neoclassical pillars. Chaperones herded yawning students out the main entrance, doing headcounts while half the group took selfies by the museum fountain. Laughter mixed with tired groans as they shuffled back onto the waiting bus.
Kite moved with the crowd, hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes flicking back toward the museum one last time. The robbery had been cleaned up quickly. Police, statements, and a lot of shrugs from witnesses who only caught half the action. Kite had kept his head down.
He'd said nothing.
But his mind was still chewing on that tattoo.
The rose.
The kind that didn't grow by accident.
Back at the motel, packing was a short-lived, chaotic affair. Teens threw clothes into bags with varying levels of care. William had two socks in his backpack and a deodorant can rolling across the carpet. Kite just shoved everything in with the grace of a hurricane. Mason grumbled from across the room, his mood slightly better but still sour enough to burn paint.
By the time the bus rolled away from the motel parking lot, the students were half-asleep already, heads leaning against windows and playlists buzzing in their ears. A few cracked jokes floated through the back rows, someone laughed way too hard at a meme, and the driver politely asked them to "take the volume down a notch, thanks."
Kite sat next to William near the middle, slouched comfortably into the seat, hoodie pulled up around his ears. The city lights faded behind them, replaced by tree-lined roads and quiet hills.
"So," William said, flipping his phone horizontal. "Top three museum exhibits. Go."
Kite snorted. "Easy. The giant sloth skeleton, the BioLumina thing that almost exploded in my face, and... your weak bio-signal performance."
"Wow," William deadpanned. "I feel so honored to be on that list."
"You should. You lit that thing up like a birthday candle in a hurricane."
William grinned. "And you lit it up like a fireworks factory. Still thinking about that?"
Kite hesitated. "Kind of. It was... intense. And that machine? No way it was supposed to react like that."
"Maybe you're just built different," William said with a smirk, then leaned his head back against the seat. "Or maybe you've got, like, alien DNA now."
"I wish," Kite muttered. "Right now, I've got Ai whispering science fiction stuff in my head, telling me about Tachyon energy and how the thing detected it."
William stretched out his legs a little, watching the trees blur past the window. "At least you can still pass as normal. Mostly. Just avoid lighting up in front of the wrong crowd."
Kite went quiet for a moment, then leaned in slightly. "Speaking of wrong crowds... something happened during the robbery."
William turned to look at him, brow raised. "What kind of something?"
Kite lowered his voice. "One of the guys—the last one I pinned down—he had a tattoo. Just under his sleeve."
William blinked. "Okay...?"
"It was a rose. Black ink. Thorns curling around it. Looked way too... specific to be random."
"Gang?"
Kite shrugged. "Maybe. Or something else. I don't know. But I got a weird feeling when I saw it. Not just 'criminal guy with bad tattoo' weird. More like... this means something."
William looked at him with a weird face, "Weird, but like I doubt it's anything much, probably just a gang is Laurel Creek who saw the van and wanted some quick cash."
"I don't know. But the robbery felt off. They weren't just smash-and-grab thugs. One of them had tech. Like, actual disruptor tech. Not black market trash."
William nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll keep an eye out. If this turns into one of those superhero conspiracies, I at least want a front-row seat."
Kite cracked a small smile. "You just want to write a book about me someday."
"Dude, if you start shooting actual blast of energy, I'm writing a book. Pulsar Knight: The Teen Hero Diaries. I'll make bank."
They both laughed, the tension easing for a moment.
The road home stretched ahead, winding its way toward Blackstone—a small town with quiet streets, cold winters, and now, a new secret settling in its shadows.
Kite leaned against the window, watching the stars blink to life above the treeline.
The bus rolled into Blackstone just as the sun was beginning its slow descent behind the modest skyline. Golden light spilled over red-brick buildings, across local diners with neon signs flickering to life, and past rows of sleepy storefronts that were all closed on Sundays but packed by Friday night. The street lamps flickered on one by one like the town itself was waking up again after a deep breath.
Kite leaned his forehead against the window, watching familiar sights blur past in the soft rattle of the bus. The comic shop still had its giant "Issue #500 Variant!" sign in the window. A family pushed a stroller down the sidewalk outside the museum—a much smaller one than the one they'd just visited in Laurel Creek, but still respectable. And off in the distance, he could see the green-tinged glass dome of Blackstone's planetarium catching the last rays of the day.
It was weird. After everything—the tech, the robbery, the crazy energy-reader thing—it almost felt… good to be home.
As the bus hissed to a stop at the high school parking lot, the doors creaked open and kids started filing out. Teachers did a quick headcount while yawning teens shuffled toward waiting parents or began the walk home with heavy luggage slung over their shoulders.
"Welp. Back to the grind," William said beside him, stretching his arms with a pop. "Think Mr. Durant's still gonna give us that pop quiz?"
"I'm betting on it," Kite said as he grabbed his duffel bag. "Cruelty gives him strength."
They stepped off the bus together, the cool evening breeze brushing past them. The sky overhead was painted in soft blues and oranges, and the air smelled faintly of grilled meat from a food truck parked down the block.
Kite stuffed his hands in his pockets as they started down the sidewalk. "Y'know… I kinda missed this place. Even the weird alley behind the 7-Eleven."
William snorted. "Says the guy who literally got superpowers on a mountain."
"Hey, the mountain gave me powers. Blackstone gave me sarcasm. It's a full package."
They walked in silence for a beat, the buzz of streetlights and passing cars filling the space between them.
They fist-bumped at the corner where their paths split. William peeled off toward his house, and Kite continued toward his own, duffel bag bumping against his hip.
Blackstone's streets grew quieter as he walked. Porch lights glowed from behind slatted windows, and the scent of home-cooked dinners drifted through the air.
His house stood at the far end of a leafy cul-de-sac—a two-story white place with navy trim and a sagging mailbox that had never quite stayed straight. The porch light was on, as always.
He stepped up the front steps, unlocked the door, and stepped inside to the familiar warmth of home.
"Hey, I'm back!" he called.
"In the kitchen!" came his mom's voice.
Kite dropped his bag in the hallway, kicked off his sneakers, and trudged toward the kitchen. The house smelled like tomato sauce and toasted bread.
His mom—Alissa, who was a middle aged woman with long brown silky hair, blue eyes just like Kite's. She stood at the stove, her hair tied up, still wearing her work blouse and a cardigan draped over her shoulders. She glanced over and smiled. "Welcome back, Kite!"
She said as she stopped her cooking and rushed over to him, giving him a big hug and kissing him on the cheek.
"I missed you too mom," he said, breaking away from the hug and rubbing his cheek.
She went back to stirring the pot, "Dinners almost ready, so put your stuff in your room and come eat!"
Kite did as he was told and made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He slowly opened the door and threw his bag by the door.
His room was quite spacious, he had a single sized bed by a window that looked at the front lawn. He had a few cupboards against the wall to the left of his bed. He also had a desk with a computer to the right side of his bed.
His room was also filled with a few vanity items, like a beanbag chair, a few flower pots and a 32 inch tv on the wall as well as a few posters of comic book characters.
Then his phone buzzed with a message. He took it out from his pocket and saw a message from Keith.
Keith: "I may or may not have a lead, on the whole Mr Mayor thing. It's not much but yeah, and I might not be online for a while so I'll text when I can."