As the refugees crossed through the portal, they were met with a welcome they hadn't expected.
The locals came forward calmly, guiding them directly to the town's hospital so the doctors could examine them and make sure the time they had spent locked up hadn't left any serious damage.
Between checkups, some neighbors offered them plates of ceviche. The newcomers, still processing the situation, accepted the food as the tension of the past few days began to ease out of them.
A group of local volunteers also came forward. With a smile, each volunteer handed them a small metal device, barely the size of a seed, designed to fit behind the ear.
Speed held his between two fingers, eyeing it with suspicion while he frowned. Around him, he could hear several residents walking past, wrapped in quick, flowing conversations in a language that was completely foreign to him.
"And what's this for?" Speed asked, turning to Artie. "A tracker? A hearing aid for old people?"
Artie, who already had his fitted behind his right ear, let out a small laugh and gestured for him to put it on.
"Put it on, speedy."
Speed sighed and placed the earpiece. The moment the device made contact with his skin, he felt a very brief vibration, almost imperceptible. Suddenly, the voices of two women walking past him carrying supplies shifted.
"...and remember that dinner is served at seven in the north wing — tonight there's lomo saltado," one of them was saying.
Speed's eyes went wide and he touched the device.
"Hey! I can understand them!" he exclaimed, looking at Artie. "How is that possible?"
"Legion designed them," Artie explained. "He knew that bringing people from all over the world would cause a communication nightmare. The preferred language here is Spanish and most of the local residents speak it. So until the newcomers can get by in the language on their own, they can use these as much as they need."
Speed nodded, impressed.
The three young men began walking together, following the refugees, while the scientist Martha walked alongside them with her hands bound, taking in everything around her with suspicion.
As they made their way through the streets, the sight was remarkable — the pavement was immaculate, the houses looked clean and well-kept, and there was a constant flow of people moving about.
What caught the eye most was how humans and metahumans were living side by side.
On one corner, a man with skin like rock was working on the foundations of a new building, compacting the ground with his own footsteps. Further along, a young woman with the ability to cool objects was helping preserve medical supplies, keeping the containers at the right temperature without the need for electric refrigeration. Even in the workshops, someone with extra limbs could be seen repairing machinery with a speed and precision no ordinary person could match.
Many of those walking by greeted Legion with respect and he responded with brief, simple gestures. Speed let out a low whistle, looking around in amazement.
"Hey, when you said 'town' I was picturing something way more basic."
Artie smiled, proud of what they had built.
"Before it looked like this, this place was a haven for slavers and human supremacists," he explained as they walked. "They would sell us or force us to fight in arenas for people to bet on. But ever since Legion came and dealt with them, we've all worked hard to improve the place and make it comfortable. On top of that, a lot of people's gifts helped speed everything up — building houses, paving the streets, setting up the power grid, the water system... and well, with the help of our 'great savior,' of course."
Artie said it with an affectionately teasing tone that made Legion snort immediately.
"Are you all still going on about that?" he grumbled under the helmet.
Artie burst out laughing.
"Everyone genuinely respects that you don't want to be called that, but the fact is you saved all of us. You can't blame them for being grateful."
Legion just shook his head and gave up. The boy then softened his tone and looked at him more closely.
"How have you been, though? Last week, when you stopped by, you looked more tired than usual."
"What are you talking about? We played football and I cooked for everyone. I was fine."
Artie smiled sideways, not entirely convinced.
"Maybe others don't notice, but there are a lot of us here who pay close attention to you. Those small signs of tiredness don't go unnoticed, and people worry about your health."
Legion brushed the matter off with a quick wave of his hand.
"The Omnitrix makes sure my body stays in top condition. There's nothing to worry about."
"Alright, I just wanted to check," Artie nodded before changing the subject. "By the way, are you going to be at the football tournament semifinal?"
Legion thought for a moment, going through his mental schedule.
"Yeah, I should be able to make it. Who's playing this time?"
Then Sid's voice came through from the helmet's systems.
"It's the team 'Legion es el mejor' versus the team 'Legion My Lover.'"
Hearing the names, he dragged his hand across the front plate of his helmet in a gesture of pure embarrassment, while Artie and Speed looked at each other and burst out laughing.
==
They finally arrived at the hospital, a two-story building that stood out for how well-maintained it was.
Inside, the pace was constant. Legion paused for a moment to watch the doctors and several metahumans working as a team, examining the new arrivals with patience.
The hero turned to Martha and removed the metal muzzle. As he held it in his hands, the metal began to shift, changing shape until it became a smooth collar which he placed around her neck. Martha took a deep breath, catching her air, and looked around with an expression of deep disgust before fixing her gaze on Legion.
"Why the hell did you bring me here?" she snapped at him venomously. "In the middle of all this... filth. Seeing so many abominations living as though they were people is revolting."
Speed stepped forward, clenching his fists.
"Hey, show a little—"
But Artie put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him with a silent gesture.
Legion, meanwhile, finished securing the collar and removed the woman's handcuffs. Martha rubbed her wrists, confused by the situation.
"You have spent your whole life feeding that hatred. Growing up with the idea that what you call 'mutants' are monsters. So I brought you here to see it with your own eyes. I want you to see humans and metahumans living together, and to let that image you carry in your head collapse on its own — not through words, but through facts."
Martha frowned at him as if he were out of his mind, but Legion continued.
"Of course, I don't trust you. That collar is a safeguard. My partner, Sid, will be watching you twenty-four hours a day. She will make sure you don't harm anyone here, or harm yourself. How? It's simple. She has functions for delivering electric shocks and sedatives. Whatever you try to plan, she will know and will report to me immediately."
Martha laughed, full of contempt.
"I thought you were at least brave after everything you did, but this? I was wrong about you. You're just a stupid child."
Legion nodded slightly and stepped a little closer to her, lowering his voice.
"This is an opportunity, Martha. One that could change your entire life. I'm asking you not to waste it, because you won't get another one."
They stood watching each other in silence for a few seconds until she made a noise of disgust and looked away.
"And then what? Am I just going to be wandering around here like an idiot?"
"Not exactly," Legion replied, guiding her down the hallway to a room equipped with medical instruments. "This is where you'll be working. You'll use your knowledge to treat the people who come in and make sure you help them."
Martha looked at him with fury.
"You can't seriously expect me to do that. Me, a respected intellectual, using my mind to treat... to treat... abominations of natur—!"
Before she could finish the sentence, an electric shock ran through her body. Martha let out a shriek of pain and doubled over, bracing herself on her legs as she gasped.
"Ah, ah... watch your language," Legion warned her.
"You should mind how you speak," Sid's voice added, coming directly from the collar around Martha's neck. "That is not a respectful way to refer to people."
Martha, red with rage, looked up.
"They are not peop—!"
Another shock hit her, this one stronger, sending her backwards onto the floor. She lay there staring at the ceiling, her muscles still tense from the electricity.
"You were saying?" Sid asked through the collar.
Martha growled, gritting her teeth as she tried to get up.
"Fine... I'll play along with this nonsense," she muttered through her teeth. "I'll go along with your damn game... for now."
Legion nodded calmly and gestured to a man who was waiting in line to be seen.
He was a man in his mid-thirties whose mutation was immediately visible — his skin had a grayish tone and his pupils were horizontal, much like a goat's. Despite his appearance, the man greeted Legion warmly and extended his hand.
"Martin! It's been a while — how have you been?" Legion asked as he shook his hand.
"Good, kid, thanks for asking. I just haven't been feeling quite right lately," Martin replied in a friendly tone. "I think it might be a cold or something, but better to be safe."
Legion nodded, understanding the situation, and placed a hand on his back to guide him toward the room where Martha was.
When they entered, the scientist instinctively took a step back at the sight of the mutant. Her eyes went wide, but a corrective shock jolted her instantly.
"Manners, Martha. Remember what we discussed," Sid's voice warned from the collar.
Legion ignored the woman's grimace and addressed Martin.
"We've just brought on a new collaborator — a sort of... intern," he said, gesturing toward Martha, who furrowed her brows indignantly at the title but thought better of saying anything to avoid another shock.
Martin nodded, grateful for the attention. Legion placed a heavy hand on Martha's shoulder.
"You're going to help him. Right?" he asked in a tone that left no room for argument.
Martha deliberated longer than she should have, wrestling with her own pride. Legion asked her again in a more serious tone, until she finally sighed and nodded with great reluctance.
"Perfect," Legion concluded as he left the room, leaving the two of them alone.
An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Martin, trying to break the ice, let out a small laugh and introduced himself with a warm gesture.
"Legion said you're new, so welcome to the town," he said sincerely. "I know it can be a little hard to adjust at first, but things run smoothly around here. If you need anything or have any questions, feel free to come find me — I'll be happy to help."
Martha watched him in silence, raising an eyebrow with disbelief.
When she didn't respond, the collar sent a small warning shock that made her jump. Martin's eyes went wide with concern.
"Are you alright? Did something happen?" he asked, taking a step toward her.
Martha raised a hand to stop him, steadying herself against the desk as she composed herself.
"Yes... I'm fine," she replied through gritted teeth. "Now then... thank you for your words. Tell me what the matter is so I can... help you."
She said that last word with great difficulty, as if it cost her to accept that she was there to serve someone who, by her prejudices, wasn't even human.
===
Legion, Artie, and Speed sat down at a small table in a local restaurant, enjoying a quiet moment.
In front of them were plates of papa rellena, golden and steaming. Speed cut off a large piece and brought it to his mouth. When he tasted it, he closed his eyes and let out a groan of pure satisfaction, savoring every bite.
"My aunt showed me a picture of these once, when I was little, in a book... These are... potatoes, right?" Speed asked, still amazed by the flavor.
Artie looked at him strangely, stopping his fork mid-air.
"Are you telling me you've never eaten a potato?" Artie asked, unable to believe it.
Speed shook his head while finishing his bite.
"Never. My aunt always said they could be used for so many things, but the soil where I come from was so contaminated that planting anything was simply impossible. So I never got to try one..." His voice faded a little and he looked down at his plate. "I wish they were here to try it too."
A brief silence fell over the table. Artie caught Legion's eye, silently asking whether there was any possibility of bringing the rest of Speed's family over. Legion, however, gave just a slight shake of his head and murmured almost imperceptibly:
"It's complicated."
Artie nodded, understanding it wasn't the moment to ask any more questions. He decided to lift the mood and let Speed keep enjoying his food, watching as the speedster went back to attacking his plate with renewed enthusiasm.
The three of them continued sitting at the small restaurant table, enjoying the calm of the town.
Speed, now a little more upbeat after the first few bites, began chattering about how strange it felt to see people walking so slowly through the streets, while Artie shared a few anecdotes about the football tournaments and how some metahumans would end up using their powers by accident, which always ended in laughter or last-minute repairs.
Legion listened in silence as he chewed a piece of papa rellena. Though he seemed relaxed, his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Sid," he murmured under his breath, "you haven't received any alerts?"
"Sir, you are eating right now," the AI's voice responded in his ear. "You should enjoy the food — the flavor is excellent, according to your dopamine levels."
"That's not the point," he replied. "You know that if there's any urgent situation, you need to notify me immediately. No matter what I'm doing."
Sid remained silent for a few seconds — long enough for Legion to stop chewing and furrow his brow.
"Sid?" he pressed.
"Understood," she finally replied. "There is a hurricane approaching the coasts of Mexico at a dangerous rate. According to meteorological reports and the monitoring network, there does not appear to be any individual with special capabilities in the area who could intervene in time to minimize the disaster."
Legion gave a small nod to himself. Without a word, he stood up from the table and took a long drink from his glass of water to wash down the last bite. Artie looked at him strangely, setting his fork down.
"Where are you going? You haven't even finished eating — there's still half a plate left," Artie said, confused by the sudden rush.
"There are people who need me right now," Legion answered, adjusting the device on his arm. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Enjoy the food for me, alright?"
Speed, with his mouth half full, pointed urgently at his neck.
"Hey! What about this?" he asked, referring to the collar he was also wearing. "Are you going to leave it on me?"
Legion looked at him for a second before answering in a flat voice.
"You already know the answer to that, Speed. Behave yourself."
Without waiting for a reply, he pressed the Omnitrix. In a green flash, he transformed into XLR8. The spheres on his feet struck the ground and, before Artie could say goodbye or Speed could protest, he was gone from the restaurant in a blue blur at tremendous speed, leaving only a gust of wind that scattered the napkins across the table.
Speed sat staring at the empty space where Legion had been a second ago, his hair still ruffled from the gust. He blinked a couple of times and then turned to Artie.
"Does he always do that?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. "Just take off in the middle of everything because something happened on the other side of the world?"
Artie nodded with a resigned expression and took a sip from his glass.
"Almost always," Artie replied, setting the glass back on the table with a sigh. "That's why so many people here worry about him. He pushes himself too hard."
The boy sat staring at Legion's plate, which still had half a papa rellena on it with the cutlery resting to the side, as though its owner might come back at any moment.
"He doesn't even let himself eat in peace," Artie added quietly.
====
The darkness in the room was so dense it felt heavy against the skin.
The Wakandan soldier, his limbs firmly restrained and his eyes covered by a blindfold that let through not a single thread of light, was trying to steady his breathing. His mind, however, was working at a frantic pace, retracing every second before he had lost consciousness.
It had been a routine watch — just another patrol along the territory's borders — until those bastards ambushed him.
"Maybe it's the Talokanil," he thought to himself, grinding his teeth. "But it doesn't fit. They've been hitting urban areas, trying to spread fear, not capturing isolated patrols in the silence. That's not how they operate."
With that option ruled out, his mind shifted to the internal borders.
"Or maybe it's the Jabari. Those savage bastards must be plotting something again. They'll probably want to interrogate me about the rotation schedules at the palace. They're great warriors, sure, but they've never been known for their intelligence... maybe they'll beat it out of me."
A small ray of hope crossed his mind. If it was the Jabari, he had a chance. He could deceive them — feed them false information that seemed valuable and make them believe he was willing to cooperate. He just needed to buy time. If he could catch them off-guard for a moment, he could escape or, with any luck, send a signal back to headquarters.
Or better yet, contact Hunter.
He knew his commander was still bitter at King T'Chaka for disbanding the Hatut Zeraze, but he knew the man — he was like a brother to him. Few loved Wakanda as deeply as Hunter, despite his exile from the official forces. He was certain that if he could get a message to him, Hunter would move heaven and earth to get him out of there.
"Stay calm," he ordered himself mentally. "Remember your training. Fear is just a chemical reaction — don't let it reach your mind."
At that instant, the silence of the cell was broken.
The metallic screech of a door opening echoed off the stone walls, followed by light, rhythmic footsteps drawing closer to him.
"My name is Kwame, of the River Tribe," the soldier said, forcing a firm voice despite the darkness surrounding him. "I was one of the Hatut Zeraze — the Dogs of War of Wakanda. I now demand to know who has me here and what they want."
Kwame fell silent, straining to listen. He expected a threat, a mocking laugh, or the kick of a boot against his face, but none came.
That absence of response began to unsettle him. Even so, he decided to play his card, tightening his fists against his restraints.
"I don't know what you want... but you should know I owe no blind loyalty to the man who sits on the throne," he continued, letting the venom show in his words. "King T'Chaka — that illegitimate ruler — disbanded the Hatut Zeraze. He humiliated us, scattered us, and sent us to different units as if we were nothing but inexperienced recruits. My pride as a warrior has been trampled and spat on by him."
He made a dramatic pause, trying to detect any shift in the breathing of whoever stood before him.
"Perhaps we can reach an agreement. I have valuable information — patrol routes, access codes, the royal guard's shift schedules... And I'm not alone. There are many others like me, elite warriors who are fed up and are only waiting for a chance to hit back at T'Chaka. But I won't say another word until I know who is listening. Who are you?"
Kwame felt a delicate, almost ethereal hand come to rest on his head. The touch wasn't violent, but a chill ran down the back of his neck when he heard a light laugh.
"I know exactly who you are, Kwame of the River Tribe," said the woman's voice, soft but with a dangerous edge. "Sub-commander of the Hatut Zeraze. That is precisely why you are here — because your situation is very favorable to us."
"I still don't know who you are," Kwame murmured, trying to hold his composure while the darkness continued to press down on his eyes.
"Who am I?" The woman let out a melodic laugh. "Why, I am T'Chaka. I am your king — the one to whom you swore loyalty and the ruler of the country you vowed to protect with your life."
Kwame furrowed his brow beneath the blindfold.
What was this lunatic talking about?
He was about to call her out, but she continued before he could get a word in.
"Those damned Talokanil — the people of Atlantis — have been sowing terror across Wakanda," she went on, walking slowly around him. "They are trying to spread fear simply to drive our great nation away from the discovery of the sacred crystal, the one they have guarded so fiercely. That is why I have a mission for you."
Kwame felt the woman move her hand across his skull.
"You won't go alone. You'll go with three of your comrades who, just like you, wish to prove their worth as warriors. They too want to show me that the Dogs of War are essential to this country and that they deserve to reclaim their place. So I will charge you all with a secret mission... to assassinate the princess of Atlantis."
Kwame tensed every muscle in his body. The plan was suicidal madness — it would trigger all-out war.
"This way," the woman continued, drawing close to his ear, "we will show those fish that Wakanda can defend itself. That our claws, no matter how deep in the water, can reach their throats. We will make them tremble before us and demand the crystal... or the next strike will go straight to their king's throat."
Kwame tried to let out a bitter laugh, but only managed a dry rasp.
"You're insane..." he whispered with contempt.
The woman didn't flinch. The gentleness of her hand vanished in an instant, replaced by an iron grip that crushed his skull with force. Her voice lost all warmth, turning as cold as the ice of a grave.
"When you kill her, make sure you sow as much fear and pain as they have tried to bring upon our people," she declared, ignoring his protests. "It doesn't matter who they are. If possible, prioritize the pregnant women and the children."
"You're sick, woman..." Kwame began to struggle, a sudden wave of nausea rising in him.
Then the world disappeared. Kwame felt an electric stab at the center of his brain, as if a white-hot needle were stitching new thoughts directly over his consciousness. His body went rigid to its limit, arching against the restraints, his head began to shake violently, and a muffled groan escaped from his throat.
"The other three will be taken down," the woman continued, her voice now resonating inside Kwame's mind rather than in his ears. "And you will surrender. When they interrogate you, tell them your purpose. Tell them King T'Chaka sent you — that Wakanda will not stand idle. Tell them all will die if they do not hand over the crystal."
Kwame felt as though his brain were being stirred. A trickle of white foam began to appear at the corner of his mouth as his eyes rolled back beneath the blindfold. It felt as though a hand had reached inside his skull and was toying with his mind.
"All so that the proud people of Wakanda may rise above all others," the voice whispered. "For glory. For their king. For their people."
As suddenly as it had begun, the torment ceased.
Kwame collapsed, breathing hard, but his face no longer reflected pain — only an absolute, hollow calm. The shackles fell to the floor and the blindfold was pulled away in one sharp tug.
The soldier blinked, adjusting his eyes to the light. Standing before him, imposing and dressed in royal robes, was King T'Chaka.
Kwame did not dare question how he had come to be there.
"Do you understand what you must do, warrior?" the King asked in a solemn voice.
Kwame rose immediately. He crossed his arms over his chest in the official salute.
"Wakanda forever," he affirmed with a steady voice. "I understand the mission I must carry out, my King. It shall be done."
T'Chaka looked down at him and a slow smile spread across his face.
But there was something wrong with that expression that Kwame could not identify — his eyes were not the eyes of the man he knew.
They were a pale blue, almost translucent, gleaming with a cold, supernatural joy as they regarded their new puppet.
===
HEYYYY, HOW'S EVERYONE DOING? HOPE YOU'RE ALL WELL!
ALRIGHT EVERYONE, MARTHA HAS BEEN LEFT IN PERU — YES, ALONGSIDE THE OTHER REFUGEES. THERE, SHE WILL HAVE TO COEXIST WITH THOSE SHE HAS DESPISED FOR MOST OF HER LIFE, ALL UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYE OF OUR DEAR SID.
OUR HERO STILL HAS NO TIME TO REST, AS A NEW THREAT LOOMS OVER WAKANDA WITHOUT ANYONE KNOWING, AND HE, ALONG WITH OTHERS, WILL FIND THEMSELVES TANGLED UP IN QUITE THE COMPLICATED SITUATION.
ALSO WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I'M WORKING ON A SERIES OF STORIES... HORROR? OR SOMETHING ALONG THOSE LINES — IN CASE ANY OF YOU ARE INTERESTED. I'M STILL WORKING ON THEM, SO I'M NOT SURE WHEN I'LL BE POSTING THE FIRST CHAPTER, BUT JUST WANTED TO MENTION IT!
AS ALWAYS, I REALLY APPRECIATE ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND YOUR COMMENTS.
TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES, KISSES 😘