Year: 2010 – Nevada, USA
The city of Dry Gorge, Nevada, had been dead for a long time.
A ghost town abandoned by the military, filled with corroded hangars, sealed silos, and shuttered labs after obscure incidents back in the '80s. The dry ground hid more than dust. It hid history. And history, as always, insisted on returning.
On that Saturday night, Global Defense Agency sensors picked up unusual energy activity beneath the city — the kind of distortion that made instruments flicker and silence feel too heavy.
Cecil didn't hesitate.
He summoned the Guardians of the Globe.
And with them, for the first time in a high-level operation, came The Cosmic.
Nevada – Containment Perimeter
11:02 PM
— "Target confirmed underground. Coordinates transmitted. Be careful, the readings are... odd," — warned a technician over the radio, his voice muffled by interference.
War Woman landed hard on the dry ground, stirring dust as she spun her hammer.
Green Ghost floated above with her hands in a defensive posture.
Red Rush circled the perimeter, while Aquarius and Darkwing took up flanking positions.
Nolan — Omni-Man — hovered above them all, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the ground as if he could see through the layers of earth.
And then, a rift opened.
Like a muffled scream, the crust cracked open, spewing out grotesque aberrations — twisted muscle, displaced eyes, and bone structures crystalline in shape. Misshapen creatures, as if sculpted by a child afraid of sleep.
— "Visual contact!" War Woman shouted. "Delta formation, NOW!"
That's when The Cosmic appeared.
Floating gently between ruined buildings, cloaked in a shimmering violet energy field — each of his movements defying conventional physics.
His eyes — liquid stars — scanned everything in silence.
— "Requesting permission to engage," he said, his calm voice transmitted directly to Cecil's communicator.
— "Permission granted. Just don't blow up the city."
The Cosmic raised his hand, and a rotating sphere of light conjured itself from nothing.
No haste. No explosion.
With a delicate motion, he released the sphere — which split mid-air into cosmic petals, enveloping five of the approaching creatures. Each one slowed, crushed by gravitational fields shaped with surgical precision.
Green Ghost narrowly dodged one and zipped past him, whistling in surprise.
— "You're more effective than you look, starboy."
— "Grace and precision," Cosmic replied with a soft smile. "Brute force is… overrated."
Above them, Nolan silently observed.
He said nothing. Offered no praise. But his eyes tracked every movement of the newcomer with keen attention.
Underground – Collapse Core
11:26 PM
They moved into the installation.
The corridors were covered in glowing residue, melted stone fragments, and energy spores drifting like radioactive dust. At the center — a collapsed containment chamber. Once used for dimensional anomaly experiments — failed GDA attempts to replicate wormholes.
Only one thing remained.
A crystal fragment, about the size of a coin, pulsing with an uncommon frequency.
Cosmic approached. His force field trembled slightly as it resonated with the object.
— "This... is calling to me," he murmured.
Nolan landed beside him, silent and watchful.
— "Did it come from the same place as you?" he asked.
The Cosmic gently touched the fragment. It pulsed in a dark violet hue, nearly black.
— "No. But it came from the same kind of void that trapped me outside. A similar pattern to what I felt before escaping into this world."
— "Then keep your distance," Nolan said, turning to leave. "The void always charges a price."
Cosmic closed his hand around the fragment, sealing it inside an energy membrane.
— "And yet… they always try to use it."
Global Defense Agency — Monitoring Room — 2:10 a.m.
The crystal floated inside a hermetically sealed containment tube in the GDA's advanced laboratory.
Cecil stared at the data projected on the glass. Beside him, The Cosmic remained silent.
— "We've never recorded a signature like this before. The energy is unstable... but consistent," Cecil murmured.
The Cosmic didn't reply immediately. His eyes were fixed on the gravitational waves reflected across the monitors.
— "This was the same frequency I felt when I managed to reach Earth," he said at last.
Cecil lit another cigarette, thoughtful.
— "Do you think it was a call? Or just... cosmic luck?"
— "I don't know," The Cosmic answered. "It's different... but it feels like one of the Void fragments my people used."
Cecil, cigarette between his lips, shoved his hands into his suit pockets.
— "Can you use its energy?" he asked.
— "I believe I could... but it's dangerous. Keep it locked in the lab," The Cosmic replied, eyes still on the fragment.
— "Could it take you back home?" Cecil asked.
— "This... is what destroyed my home," The Cosmic replied, eyes unwavering.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Cecil eventually turned toward his desk.
— "So now what?" he asked, drawing the Cosmic's attention.
— "Now... I want to stay," the Cosmic said. "I don't want to exist on the edge anymore. I want a role. I want to help. I want to belong to this world."
Cecil opened a drawer and pulled out a small metallic bracelet with an embedded visor. He placed it on the desk.
— "Optical disguise. It'll give you a human appearance. I had it made the day you arrived — just finished today. Helps you walk around without triggering a panic."
The Cosmic picked up the device and activated it. Within seconds, his appearance shifted: light skin, brown eyes, short dark hair. A human form — but still exuding something... different. Something imperceptible to normal eyes.
— "Like I said... I want to belong."
Cecil nodded.
— "There's a room for you on sublevel 3. And a messy world out there waiting for a hero with a bit of sense."
The Cosmic smiled softly.
— "Then this is where I begin again."
At that same moment, high above the clouds...
Nolan Grayson hovered in the sky.
His dark red uniform clean again. His face unreadable.
He was thinking about what he'd witnessed that night.
He had watched from a distance. Analyzed the patterns. Witnessed the power.
— "Considerable strength," he murmured to himself.
His eyes lifted toward the heavens. In silence, he weighed the possibilities:
Threat? Variable? Obstacle?
But after long seconds of stillness:
— "If it were a threat… it would've already been dealt with," Nolan murmured.
The Cosmic did not interfere with his mission. He required no immediate action.
And so, Nolan took off again — a silhouette slicing through the night clouds.
Twelve Years and a Lingering Void
Birthday Morning — Suburban Neighborhood
The sky that morning was veiled by thin clouds, filtering the sunlight like a bedsheet over a lamp. The breeze carried the familiar scent of damp grass and freshly baked bread from a distant bakery.
Kai walked down the sidewalk with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Twelve years old. Debbie had insisted he stop by the corner store to buy more soda and a few balloons for the small birthday party they were throwing later — just a few close friends.
He went. No rush.
He passed the low-roofed houses, heard a dog bark behind a rusty gate, crossed the street while kicking pebbles. His eyes, lost on the ground, caught something in an abandoned yard: an old skateboard leaning against a broken fence. The wood was chipped, the bearings almost silent. But still functional.
Kai stopped.
He stared at it for a few seconds, then hopped the fence in one smooth motion.
He picked up the skateboard. The weight was familiar. In his past life, he'd ridden a little as a kid — or a teenager.
He stepped on it with ease. Pushed gently off the ground and slid down the street.
But the void was still there.
Not physical. Existential. The feeling that all of this — even a fleeting moment of freedom like that — was just a parenthesis in something that no longer made sense.
"Not even this excites me anymore…" he thought, almost bored.
That's when the board hit a crack in the asphalt. The impact made him stumble forward. Kai kept his balance with a light twist of his body, landing on one foot as the skateboard shot several feet ahead.
— "Tsk..."
He walked over, picked up the board, and set it back in the same spot against the fence where he had found it.
That's when he saw her.
Sitting at the edge of the curb, knees together, eyes cast downward. A red-haired girl, small, wearing an oversized hoodie and worn-out sneakers. She held a crushed flower in her hands. It looked like she had been crying — or maybe she was just too exhausted to do so.
Kai didn't ask her name. Or why she was there. He just stopped nearby, skateboard tucked under his arm.
— "You gonna be okay?" he asked, not with emotion, but not cold either.
The girl looked up slowly. There was sadness in her eyes, but also surprise.
— "...They fought again," she said quietly. "So I left. Seemed better."
Kai didn't react. Just glanced at the flower in her fingers. It wasn't pretty anymore. It wasn't whole. But she held it like it was the only thing she had.
After a moment of silence, he spoke in a neutral tone:
— "You know... sometimes the world's just a broken machine. And we're just trying to move through it without getting cut."
She stared at him, confused.
— "Was that supposed to be... comforting?"
Kai thought for a second. Then shrugged.
— "No. But... you're still here, right?"
She blinked. Then let out a short, involuntary laugh.
A small sound. But sincere.
— "You're weird."
— "Better than being normal," he replied, already turning to leave.
— "Hey, your skateboard's staying behind."
— "It's not mine."
— "Yeah, you're weird." she said with a teasing laugh as he walked away.
That heavy silence and sadness seemed to lift...
Kai kept walking toward the corner store. Hands in his pockets, wind on his face, and a faint unease in his chest.
It was his birthday. But that, today, felt irrelevant.
Later, at His Birthday Party...
Kai stood at the edge of the hallway, leaning against the doorframe. He wasn't hiding, but he wasn't exactly mingling either. There was a faint smile on his face — subtle, almost imperceptible.
Debbie approached with two cups of soda in hand and offered one to him.
— "You gonna stand there like a mall security guard?" she joked.
— "Someone has to keep watch over the chaos," Kai replied, taking the cup.
She smiled and headed back toward the table. Kai took a sip and lingered a little longer there, on the threshold between observation and participation.
Soon, the kids gathered around the cake. Becky was organizing everyone with the authority of someone who had clearly done this before. Mark was waving theatrically like the king of the party. When Debbie showed up with the matches, everyone began singing, out of tune and full of energy.
— "Happy birthday to you..."
Kai finally stepped closer, standing next to Mark. His brother grabbed his arm firmly, smiling.
— "No escaping, twin."
— "Escaping takes effort," Kai replied, but he stayed.
The candles were blown out together — one by Mark, one by Kai. Becky shouted "pictures!" and the digital camera flashed several times, bathing both of their faces in bursts of white light.
Debbie handed out slices of cake, and in no time, the room turned into a whirlwind of kids running, wrapping paper being torn, and packaging flying everywhere.
Mark, mouth full of cake, nudged Kai with his elbow.
— "You're acting weird today."
— "What do you mean?"
— "Like... not distant. Just... too quiet. And you didn't even make your 'this is all nonsense' face. What's up? Growing old too fast?"
Kai let out a soft chuckle.
— "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just… watching."
— "Watching what?"
— "The world. People. You, happy."
Mark chewed in silence for a moment.
— "You say things that don't sound like a kid at all."
— "Maybe I'm an old man trapped in this body."
— "That would explain a lot."
They laughed together. One of those simple, natural moments that, without warning, turn into memories.
Outside, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting golden tones across the sky. The porch lights flicked on with a soft click.
Derick appeared from the backyard holding a gift.
— "Kai! This one's for you. We forgot to give it earlier."
— "It's from all of us," Becky added, pointing to herself and July, who waved from the door.
Kai took the box with slight surprise. It was simple, but carefully decorated with crooked stickers and a lopsided ribbon.
Inside, he found a leather cord necklace with a pendant, along with a small note.
"So you remember that if you ever need it, we'll be here."
Signed: Becky, Derick, and July.
Kai went quiet. He ran his fingers over the note. And for the first time that day, his smile was full. Not forced. Just… real.
— "Thanks," he said, voice lower than usual.
Derick smiled, a little shy.
— "We know you don't talk much. But that's okay. We just wanted to say… you're our friend too. Even if sometimes you act like a robot."
— "Sometimes?" July said, crossing her arms.
— "Okay, a lot," Becky added, and they all laughed.
Kai looked at the three of them for a moment, holding the necklace.
— "You guys are way too good for this world."
— "And you're way too weird to talk like that," Mark said, appearing again behind him with another plate of cake.
They laughed again.
Later, with most of the guests already gone, the house was nearly silent.
Mark and Kai were helping Debbie pick up cups scattered across the living room, still energized by the idea of "retelling everything to Derick in comic book format." The cake, now half-eaten, still occupied the center of the table.
That's when Nolan showed up quietly. In his hands, a small box — no decorations, no ribbon.
— "For you," he said, handing it to Kai with the same tone he might use to deliver a report.
Kai accepted the box carefully. Inside, he found a digital watch. Compact model. Durable. Subtle screen. Dark strap. Functional design.
— "GDA tech," Nolan said, eyes fixed somewhere else in the room. "Impact-resistant. Waterproof. Tracks vitals. Has a silent alarm and a locator function."
Kai looked up at him for a moment. Didn't say anything right away.
— "In case you ever need to leave somewhere without drawing attention," Nolan added.
— "Got it," Kai replied simply.
He slid the watch onto his wrist and watched the screen light up. Blue. Silent. Precise.
Nolan nodded once and was already turning to leave when Mark ran over.
— "Dad, what about me? Did you get me something too?"
— "The spaceship you asked for is in the back seat of the car," Nolan replied, without changing tone.
Mark shouted, "Yes!" and bolted out the front door.
Kai kept looking at the screen, expressionless.
When he realized he was alone in the room, he glanced out the window. Nolan had stepped outside to the backyard. He stood under the soft porch light, arms crossed, staring at the sky — like he often did. No expression. No visible purpose.
And yet, something about that gesture seemed... too restrained.
Too deliberate.
Kai tightened the watch on his wrist, feeling the slight weight of it.
"Gift. Function. Control."
Nolan wasn't the kind of person who gave things for free. Everything had a reason. A purpose.
But even so... he gave it.
And that was enough to raise a hypothesis.
"He's trying to look normal."
"Or maybe… trying to convince himself that he is."
Kai didn't smile. Didn't frown. He just filed the thought away in silence, like a mental note.
Another piece of the puzzle.
Maybe time on Earth was changing Nolan.
Maybe not.
But Kai would be watching. Always.
And he would never forget that day, two years ago, at the edge of the cave.
The watch on his wrist read 8:47 PM.
Kai looked at the screen for a second longer…
Then turned off the lights in the living room.
Light in the Streets
A few days later — Downtown Millwood
The neighborhood was modest, far from the city center. Row houses, wires dangling between poles, faded graffiti, and corner shops that had survived for decades. Still, there was warmth there — and that was exactly what The Cosmic was looking for.
Or, as he was now known in his civilian identity: Noah Kells.
The optical disguise bracelet hid his true form well. To everyone else, he was just another tall, tan-skinned man with calm features and an attentive gaze. There was still something different about him — a serene presence, almost sun-like — but not enough to raise suspicion.
He worked three times a week at a community center in the area — a cramped, dimly lit space where dozens of families found assistance, meals, and sometimes, advice.
— "Mr. Noah, the heater's busted again," said one of the staff, holding a notepad.
— "I'm on it," he replied with a soft smile.
Within minutes, he had dismantled the outer shell of the device with mechanical precision, using only standard tools. No powers. Just practice and logic.
Later, while helping an elderly woman carry two bags, a little girl ran up to him with a crumpled sheet of paper.
— "Are you a hero?" she asked, her eyes wide and bright.
He looked at her and crouched down to meet her at eye level.
— "No… but I try to be helpful," he answered, taking the paper. It was a drawing. A stick figure in black armor with purple energy glowing in its hands.
She pointed at it.— "That's you."
Noah smiled.— "I look stronger in the drawing."
— "Because you are," the girl replied. "My mom said you saved her during the flood in the north neighborhood last month. She said you flew."
He paused for a second.— "Ah… then I guess you drew it just right."
By late afternoon, with the sun already slipping behind the low buildings, Noah climbed the side alley to the back of the center. He took his backpack off and looked up at the sky for a few seconds.
Peace on Earth was different. It wasn't the silence of the void. It was noise with meaning. It was life.
He sat on the concrete step and pulled out a notebook. He began jotting down observations about human behavior — little habits, speech patterns, social rituals.
It was part of his daily routine. To learn. To adapt.
To help.
And even though cosmic energy still pulsed inside him like a living memory of everything he'd lost, in that moment… he didn't feel lost.
— "You're not going to save the world with grocery bags…" — he muttered to himself.— "…but maybe you'll save a few people."
GDA — Underground Base, Later
Cecil watched everything through one of the remote monitoring screens. No invasive cameras, nothing hidden — Noah knew he was being observed. And he accepted it.
Donald, standing beside Cecil, commented:
— "He's adapted well."
Cecil nodded, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray.
— "Because he wants to. And that makes him valuable."
— "Even being... limited?"
— "He has something most people who pass through here don't." Cecil stared at the still image of Noah helping a child down a staircase.
— "He does the right thing even when no one's watching."
Molecular Silence
The house was like every other on the street: beige façade, grass cut with military precision, curtains shut tight. Everything perfectly controlled. Artificially calm.
Eve Wilkins was sitting on the bedroom floor, her back resting against the side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. The lamp cast soft shadows on the walls, but her eyes didn't follow them. They were fixed on a point far beyond.
The TV was on, but muted. Some random cartoon played. No sound except the ticking of the wall clock.
In the center of the room floated a flower. Pink… and impossible. Its petals reassembled in cycles, blooming over and over, in a ballet of atomic reconstruction.
Eve manipulated it effortlessly. Not with her hands — but with her mind.
Every atom responded to her invisible touch.
She remade the flower with molecular precision, unraveling and recreating it, like someone trying to find order in chaos through sheer will.
Downstairs, muffled voices.
— "She should be with other kids."
— "She's fine here at home. Why create a problem that isn't there?"
— "She doesn't talk to anyone, Dan. That's not normal."
Her parents' argument was distant. It wasn't new.
Eve closed her eyes for a moment. The flower fell to the floor, disintegrating into particles before it could touch the carpet.
She took a deep breath and stood up.
She went to the window. Opened the blinds an inch. Outside, kids rode bicycles, a family walked by with grocery bags, someone was spraying water on the sidewalk.
The world seemed… in motion.
But inside, everything was static.
With a gesture, she made the flower reassemble on the floor. Now blue. Then green. Then transparent like glass.
And then, with a barely audible snap… she made it disappear completely.
"If I can change everything I touch… why does nothing change in here?"
Late Afternoon / Night — Silent Training
The sky was painted in hues of orange and violet as Kai walked through the old abandoned park. The same as always. Twisted trees, rusted playground equipment, and the comforting silence of a forgotten place.
Wearing his worn-out jacket and carrying a light backpack, he walked to the clearing where he had been training in secret for years. The ground was firm dirt, surrounded by exposed roots and moss-covered rocks.
He stopped beside one of the crooked trees, crouched down, and picked up a round stone, about the size of a tennis ball — heavy enough to serve its purpose. He placed it over a marked spot on the ground with thin lines made of sticks.
Took two steps back. Breathed in deeply. Stretched his hand forward, fingers spread, eyes fixed on the center of the object.— "Blue…" — he whispered.
The air in front of him shimmered, almost imperceptibly.For a few seconds, nothing.Then the stone trembled. Vibrated. And was suddenly pulled, flying in a straight line into Kai's palm, where he caught it precisely.
He let it fall back into the same spot. Took a breath. Repeated.
The void's energy floated within him like a sleeping beast — obedient, but volatile.
This time, he walked over to a larger rock, half-covered by leaves. He estimated it weighed around fifty kilos. Returned to the starting position, farther back. Extended his hand. Felt the energy slide along his skin and project forward.
The rock groaned against the ground. Moved slowly. After a few centimeters... it stopped.
Kai closed his fingers, canceling the flow. Exhaled slowly.— "Still too little. Not good enough."
He sat on a thick root. Took a deep breath. Closed his eyes for a moment — and reopened them in blue.
The Six Eyes activated.
The leaves moved slowly in the wind. Every speck of dust sparkled like a miniature constellation. Insects floated as if suspended in liquid.
1 minute.2 minutes.Sweat began to bead on his forehead.3 minutes.Temples throbbing.4 minutes.Heartbeat accelerating.Four and a half…Almost there.5 minutes.
Kai blinked. His eyes returned to their natural tone. Breathing heavy, but steady.— "Five minutes. That's the ceiling… for now."
He stood up slowly. Put his jacket away and adjusted his backpack.
As he walked, he looked at the sky, where the first stars emerged, and continued through the neighborhood's edges, where streetlights grew scarce and vacant lots stretched like forgotten patches of the world.
It wasn't his first time there.An old abandoned construction site behind a long-closed community center. Twisted rebar, cracked concrete, and a few forgotten construction blocks.
— "Time to continue. Let's test something different."
Kai walked to a toppled metal structure and climbed up.At the top, he sat on a rusty beam. Took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, wearing only a dark fitted shirt. He inhaled deeply. The air was cold. Perfect.
On a dusty tarp, he had placed a test object — a piece of old machinery, likely part of a generator, rusted and dense.
— "Let's see if this doesn't rip my arm off…" — he murmured with a soft sigh.
He extended his palm toward the object and focused. It wasn't about strength. It was about intent. Flow. Balance.— "Blue."
The space in front of his hand bent.
A light, pulsing distortion formed between his fingers. The air seemed to quiver, as if a microscopic gravity field had been created between the metal and Kai's palm.
And then…
The object slid.
It didn't fly. It wasn't thrown. But it was pulled, slowly, with resistance — as if the whole world tried to stop its movement.
Kai held his focus, brow furrowed, arm steady. The object shifted about two meters, then fell with a dry thud.
He stood still in silence, feeling his breath quicken slightly. His body wasn't exhausted… but his fingers trembled. As if the fabric of space had exacted a toll.
— "Two meters. Almost full control. Weight within limit…"
He looked at his palm. No nosebleed. Just a headache, the slight tremor, and that subtle tingling at the base of his neck — the sign he had gone as far as was safe.
He leaned back against the beam, rested for about 20 minutes while staring at the night sky.— "It's enough… Now the Eyes, one more time."
He closed his eyes for a moment. Inhaled. Then opened them again — and the intense, icy blue filled his irises.
Everything became sharper.
Thermal pulses, air currents, vibrations in the ground. The invisible layers of reality took shape. Kai stood and began walking slowly across the beam, testing the time again.
He grabbed his jacket and jumped down, testing his resilience and strength. A perfect landing. No difficulty.
Still with the eyes active, he walked through the area on his way home.
Kai took the side alleys, turning a corner near a neighborhood market — small, usually closed at night — when he heard it.
A sharp sound. A tense voice.— "Hand over the bag, now! I'm serious!"
Kai stopped.
Even before turning, the Six Eyes showed him everything:Three figures.An older woman against a wall, shaking.Two teens, maybe, in baggy jackets and makeshift masks. One held a knife, its blade trembling from his sweaty grip.
Kai exhaled slowly. Assessed.Two teens. One nervous, the other more aggressive. The woman's in shock.
Before he could consider walking away, the memory of that car crash years ago came rushing back.
— "Not again…" — he whispered, clenching his fists.
He stepped sideways, slipping into a blind spot, pulling the hood of his jacket up to hide his face at the same time.
The Six Eyes saw everything even in the dark, outlining every edge, every muscle tensed in the attackers.
Kai leapt. Launched himself like lightning.
His foot struck the knife-wielding teen's stomach with brutal precision.
— "Ugh!"
The impact sent him flying two meters back, crashing hard into a metal dumpster. The sound echoed down the street like a dry thunderclap.
Before the second could react, Kai spun on the ground and landed a sweeping kick straight to the boy's legs, dropping him with a hollow thud.
Without pause, Kai leaned in and landed a firm, precise, silent punch to the second boy's chin, knocking him out cold.
Silence.Both unconscious.
The woman, still frozen, stared at the bodies on the ground, trembling.
She looked up and saw only a panting figure standing in the shadows — hood covering the face, but the eyes…
Blue. Intense. Shining like blades under the moon.
Kai looked at her, but said nothing.
He simply turned and vanished down the opposite alley with the same speed he had arrived.
The woman brought her hand to her mouth, eyes filled with tears, and whispered to herself:— "Those eyes… what was that… some kind of superhero?"
But when she looked up again, ready to thank him, he had already disappeared into the alley's shadow.
He wasn't a hero.Just someone exhausted, trying to balance in the dark what he once let slip in the light.
Half something. Half no one.With too many eyes for the world and too few answers for himself. And still… For the first time in a long time… he didn't feel completely lost.
It was late when Kai finally got home.
The living room lights were already off. The house, silent. Only the ticking of the kitchen clock mixed with the muffled sound of his steps on the carpet.
He climbed the stairs slowly, his muscles aching more from the earlier training.
In the bedroom, Mark slept on his side, a superhero magazine on his chest, the night lamp still on. Kai turned off the light and looked at his brother for a moment. His breathing was peaceful.
"Good to know someone here can still sleep in peace. In a way, that comforts me..."
Next Morning — Grayson Residence
The smell of pancakes and scrambled eggs filled the kitchen as the TV murmured in the background at a moderate volume. Debbie was finishing up breakfast, Nolan was reading an old newspaper with a glass of juice beside him, Mark devoured a plate like he hadn't eaten in days, and Kai… just ate slowly.
— "It's going to get cold," Debbie remarked, without taking her eyes off the skillet.
Kai slowly looked up, took a bite of the eggs, and chewed without enthusiasm.
The TV changed topics.
"And now, we return with a curious case from last night. A robbery attempt thwarted by… a mysterious boy."
The anchorwoman spoke with restrained excitement. Behind her, footage showed a dark street, a dented trash can, and two ambulances tending to unconscious assailants.
— "According to the victim, a boy around 10 to 12 years old appeared out of nowhere, wearing a hood and… with intense blue eyes. He defeated the two attackers in seconds and vanished without a trace."
The screen cut to the woman, visibly emotional:
— "I… I didn't see his face. Just the eyes. They were… blue. They glowed. He saved me. It was like an angel stepping out of the shadows."
Kai choked slightly on his juice, dropping his fork to the floor.
Debbie raised a hand to her mouth with a half-smile of surprise, as that wasn't typical of Kai.
— "Sounds like something out of a movie," she commented, turning back to the TV. — "A boy with blue eyes? That's curious."
Mark laughed.
— "If it were Kai, we'd know, right?" — he said, nudging his brother and laughing. — "You barely run in P.E."
Kai shrugged, with a faint smile.
— "Maybe he ate more pancakes than I did."
Everyone laughed. Nolan watched in silence, his eyes briefly resting on Kai — then returning to the newspaper. The TV moved on to other news.
But somewhere else in the world...
GDA Monitoring Center — Restricted Room
Several large screens covered the wall, displaying simultaneous data — heat maps, movement patterns, tactical simulations, and low-resolution footage from street cameras. On one of the screens, paused at the exact moment of a flash, two glowing blue eyes pierced the darkness.
Cecil Stedman stood with arms crossed, his face lit by the bluish projections. His eyes didn't blink.
— "Zoom in. One more level," he ordered.
The GDA operator complied. The image pixelated, but the eyes were still there. Intense. Almost unreal.
Cecil didn't move.
— "Did the sensors detect any unusual energy emissions?" he asked.
— "Negative, sir. Nothing outside standard thermal or kinetic signatures for a street fight."
— "But two armed teenagers were taken down in under four seconds. One of them with a fractured bone. And the woman claims... he appeared out of nowhere?"
The agent nodded.
— "She said his eyes glowed like... lights. That he looked like a shadow and... then vanished."
Cecil stayed silent for a moment. He reached into his pocket for another cigarette, but the pack was empty.
— "Great... we're off to a wonderful start," he muttered ironically. — "What about all the security cameras on that street?"
— "Two partial angles. And this… this is the only frame with visible eyes."
Cecil crumpled the cigarette pack and stuffed it back into his pocket.
— "Any known ocular patterns among the registered young heroes?"
— "We cross-referenced it with all databases. Nothing. No match in age or physical traits. We also ran it against latent mutation registries… nothing."
— "And Grayson's kids?"
The agent hesitated.
— "Mark is normal. Kai… also. Clean medical history. Neither of them has blue eyes, sir."
Cecil narrowed his gaze, resting his hand on his chin.
— "I know Nolan. If there was anything... unusual about his kids, would he hide it?"
— "Unlikely, since they know they can rely on top-level tech and our support. But still possible. We've checked public and internal records. Both appear… ordinary."
— "Then this kid remains a ghost."
— "He seems promising. I'd like to find him... but we have no data on any powered kid in that region," Cecil muttered.
Another operator stepped forward.
— "Should we prioritize this boy in the observation protocol?"
Cecil remained silent for a moment. Then nodded.
— "Activate Protocol: 'Nascente'. If he acts again, I want to know. Location, timing, movement type, body language… everything."
— "Kids with eyes that glow in the dark don't show up by accident."
The operators nodded silently, beginning background protocols.
Echoes of Glass
Weeks Later — Natural History Museum, Washington
The museum's entrance hall buzzed with children's voices, hurried footsteps, and curious stares. Rows of students from Kai's school grouped into chaotic clusters with colorful backpacks and makeshift name tags hanging from their necks.
— "No running! Stay with your group!" — shouted the teacher in vain.
Kai walked silently, hands in his jacket pockets and his hood half-down — not enough to draw attention, but just enough to obscure his indifferent expression and his routine training... Activating and deactivating the eyes. He didn't like crowded places. Or school trips. Or any situation where he was forced to blend in.
— "KAI!" — Mark suddenly appeared, with Becky and July a few steps behind. — "Stick with us. The class split up and... Derick ended up with the seventh graders."
— "Good for him," Kai murmured.
Becky sighed, crossing her arms.
— "Can you try, just try, to seem a little less antisocial for one day?"
— "I'm trying. I'm wearing the uniform," Kai replied with a shrug.
July laughed. — "That's the most we'll get out of him today. Deal with it."
They moved between fossil displays and recreations of prehistoric habitats. While Mark got excited over dinosaur skeletons and made jokes about the educational signs, Kai remained observant. He didn't care about the fossils. He watched people's reflections in the glass. The muffled sound of footsteps. The way some teachers looked at students — like they were already tired of teaching.
— "This here is the real skull of a T-Rex!" — Mark said, pointing.
— "Actually, it's a replica," Kai corrected automatically.
Mark blinked.
— "...What?"
— "The original skeleton is on rotating display in the north wing, with a different support structure. This one's resin. You can see the mold marks on the back."
They were quiet for a second.
— "Kai… you're scary sometimes," Becky said in a playful tone.
July stared at him more intently. But said nothing.
As they entered the astronomy section, one of the teachers — Mr. Halpern — observed from a distance. An older man, with eyes far too sharp for someone used to dealing with noisy kids.
He had noticed before. Kai's silence wasn't just shyness. It was strategy. The way he positioned himself, eyes always alert, his answers short but absurdly precise. The way he seemed… out of place. Like someone who was never 100% there.
— "Mr. Halpern," one of the chaperones called him back to reality. — "Group two got lost again."
— "Of course they did," the teacher grumbled, walking off. But he cast one last glance toward Kai.
Later — Museum Cafeteria
The group gathered for lunch in a large hall with wooden tables and a glass ceiling. Soft light filtered in, making the place feel calmer than the rest of the museum.
Kai opened his lunchbox slowly, chewing in silence as the others talked about an interactive documentary in the volcano exhibit. Once again, he was part of the group — not by choice, but by their insistence.
And that made him want to stay close.
After a few minutes, Mark sat beside him. They were quiet for a moment.
— "You know… when we were little, I thought you were like... my twin brother spy," Mark said with a smile.
Kai raised an eyebrow, curious.
— "Why?"
— "You always knew stuff first. Always stayed quiet. And when you spoke, it was like... the right answer. Kind of creepy. But it felt like you were always there."
— "Do you still think that?" — Kai asked.
— "No. Now I just think... you overthink everything."
Kai made a soft sound, almost a laugh, as Mark bumped into his fork, knocking it to the ground.
— "Maybe I think for you too."
— "Hey!" — Mark gave him a playful shove.
Kai shoved back.
Just a moment. A simple interaction. But for the two of them, it carried weight. It was that kind of silent bond that didn't need translating.
Mark then pulled something from his pocket. A small bag of gummy candies — the kind Debbie had banned because "they stick to your teeth and your brain."
— "Share them or watch you suffer?" — Mark teased.
Kai held out his hand, saying nothing.
— "Tch… spy twin," Mark muttered, tossing the bag into his lap.
And then they looked up at the ceiling again. Two brothers — one too loud, the other too quiet — balancing the world between artificial galaxies and the muffled sound of kids running.