The sun hadn’t even fully risen over the jagged skyline of San Francisco’s roughest neighborhood when Adan Beckett’s day kicked off with a bang. Literally. A pot clattered to the floor in the cramped kitchen of his adoptive family’s rundown home, followed by a chorus of sharp laughter that could only belong to the three women who’d raised him. Adan, an 18-year-old alien hiding in plain sight, adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses and sighed. His super strength, flight, invulnerability, and speed were useless against the force of nature that was breakfast with Valentina Rodriguez, Eliana Costa, and Donna Taylor.
“Boy, you gonna sit there lookin’ like a lost puppy or you gonna eat somethin’?” Valentina, a fiery Latina with curves that could stop traffic, leaned over the table to slide a plate of huevos rancheros under his nose. Her skimpy tank top left little to the imagination, and the smirk on her crimson lips told Adan she knew exactly what she was doing. “Or are you too busy daydreamin’ ‘bout savin’ the world to notice a real woman’s cookin’?”
Adan’s cheeks flamed as he fumbled with his fork. “I-I’m eating, Val. Just… tired. Late night.”
“Oh, late night, huh?” Eliana, a statuesque Brazilian with a cascade of dark curls, sauntered over, her silk robe barely tied as she poured herself coffee. She shot him a wicked grin over the rim of her mug. “What’s our innocent little boy doin’ sneakin’ around after dark? Don’t tell me you finally got yourself a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. We don’t judge.”
Donna, the blonde bombshell of the trio, cackled from the stove where she flipped bacon in a pair of Daisy Dukes that should’ve been illegal. “Nah, Eli, look at that blush. Our Adan’s still pure as the driven snow. Ain’t that right, sugar? You savin’ yourself for one of us to teach you the ropes?”
Adan nearly choked on a bite of egg, his alien composure crumbling under their relentless teasing. “C’mon, y’all, I’m just… studying. For work. Journalism stuff.”
“Studying,” Valentina echoed, dragging the word out as she straddled a chair backward, her toned thighs on full display. “That what they call it now? ‘Cause I swear I heard somethin’ bangin’ around in that shed out back last night. You buildin’ a spaceship or just jerkin’ off to alien porn?”
His heart skipped a beat. The shed housed his alien ship, the last remnant of his homeworld, where he trained in secret. He forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Very funny, Val. Just fixing up some old junk. You know me, nerd stuff.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Eliana purred, leaning in so close he could smell the coconut of her shampoo. Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief. “Well, you keep your ‘nerd stuff’ outta trouble, menino. This hood don’t play nice, and we ain’t always gonna be around to bail your cute little ass outta jail. Or bed.” She winked, and Adan’s face went nuclear.
“Alright, alright, I gotta get to work,” he stammered, shoving the last of his breakfast down and bolting for the door. Their laughter chased him out, along with Donna’s parting shot: “Don’t forget, baby boy, you ever need a lesson in lovin’, Mama’s got you covered!”
The cool morning air was a relief as Adan speed-walked through the gritty streets, his mind racing. Keeping his alien identity hidden from three women who could sniff out a lie faster than a bloodhound was exhausting. But he had bigger problems waiting at the San Francisco Post.
The newsroom buzzed with chaos as Adan slipped in, his lanky frame and shy demeanor making him invisible among the shouting reporters—until a voice like a whip cracked through the din. “Beckett! Get your scrawny ass over here, now!”
Victoria Rodriguez, editor-in-chief and the most intimidating woman Adan had ever met, stood in her office doorway, arms crossed over a tailored blazer that hugged her curves like a second skin. Her dark eyes pinned him in place, and her full lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts menace and allure. “Pobrecito, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe you’ve seen our mystery man, huh? What’s the latest on this ‘SkyRyder’ freak you keep babbling about?”
Adan swallowed hard, clutching his notepad. SkyRyder was his alter ego, the name he hadn’t even chosen yet, born from the “exclusive” quotes he’d fed Victoria to throw her off his scent. “Uh, not much new, Ms. Rodriguez. Just… rumors. People saying he’s fast. Like, really fast. And, uh, flies. Maybe.”
“‘Maybe,’” she mocked, stepping closer until he could feel the heat of her glare. Her heels clicked with authority, and her perfume—something spicy and commanding—made his head spin. “You’re my best lead on this story, Beckett, and I don’t pay you to stutter. I’m callin’ him SkyRyder, by the way. Catchy, right? Sounds like a guy who knows how to ride hard and fast. You wouldn’t be holdin’ out on me, would you, cariño?”
“N-no, ma’am,” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses to hide the sweat beading on his brow. “I’m on it. Promise.”
She tilted her head, studying him like a predator sizing up prey. “Better be. ‘Cause if I find out you’re hiding something, I’ll drag it outta you myself. And trust me, I’m real good at getting what I want.” Her voice dropped to a sultry purr, and Adan’s knees nearly buckled.
Before he could respond, the newsroom erupted with a breaking alert. A TV screen blared: ICE agents, led by some hardass named Ryan Parker, were storming a school in Florida, targeting undocumented kids. Adan’s blood boiled. He muttered a quick excuse to Victoria—something about a source—and slipped into a stairwell. In a blur of super speed, he swapped his nerdy clothes for his blue-and-white super suit, his blonde hair and blue eyes shifting to brown as part of the disguise. SkyRyder was born.
The flight to Florida took seconds, the world a streak of color beneath him. He landed outside the school with a thud, cracking the pavement. Ryan Parker, a burly man with a sneer uglier than sin, stood flanked by armed agents. “Well, well, if it isn’t the flying freak show,” Ryan spat, gripping a strange metallic device. “Back off, hero, or I’ll make you wish you’d stayed in whatever hole you crawled outta.”
Adan smirked, floating a few inches off the ground. “Big talk for a guy hiding behind a badge. How ‘bout you leave the kids alone, and I won’t have to embarrass you in front of your boys?”
Ryan’s face twisted with rage, and he activated the device. A piercing sonic blast slammed into Adan, the sound like a thousand knives in his skull. Pain exploded behind his eyes; blood trickled from his nose. He staggered midair, gasping. Invulnerable, my ass, he thought. Whatever this weapon was, it hurt like hell.
“Gotcha now, freak,” Ryan sneered, cranking the device higher.
Gritting his teeth, Adan pushed through the agony, his super speed kicking in. In a flash, he ripped the weapon from Ryan’s hands and crushed it into scrap metal, the sonic screech dying with a pathetic whine. “Nice toy,” Adan panted, wiping blood from his lip with a cocky grin. “But I break things faster than you can build ‘em. Now scram before I decide to break something else.”
Ryan’s eyes burned with hatred as he signaled his team to retreat. “This ain’t over, SkyRyder. We’ve got more where that came from.”
Adan watched them go, then stumbled into the school bathroom to clean up, his head still ringing. As he splashed water on his face, a small voice piped up. “Whoa, are you… Superman?”
He turned to see a kid, maybe ten, clutching a Superman comic. Kyle, his name tag read. Adan chuckled weakly, crouching to the boy’s level. “Nah, kid. Just a guy tryin’ to do right. But I’ll sign that comic if you keep my secret. Deal?”
Kyle’s eyes lit up. “Deal! But, uh, you got hit pretty hard out there. Did the bad guys find your kryptonite?”
Adan laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair as he scrawled “SkyRyder” on the comic. “Somethin’ like that. Don’t worry, though. I’m tougher than I look.”
Back in San Francisco, Adan slipped into the newsroom, a piece of the broken sonic weapon tucked in his pocket for later study. He’d barely adjusted his glasses when Victoria’s voice sliced through the air. “Beckett, where the hell you been? You look like you got hit by a damn truck.”
He froze, forcing a sheepish grin. “Just, uh, chasing a lead. Got a little messy.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths as she stepped closer, her presence suffocating. “Messy, huh? Better not be messin’ with me, pobrecito. I’ve got my eye on you.”
Adan’s heart raced as he nodded, her words lingering like a threat—or a promise. His dual life was already fraying at the edges, and Victoria Rodriguez was the kind of woman who’d unravel it with a single, deadly tug.
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