Chapter 8: The Second Star to the Right

The closest village to the forest where the boys appeared was two hours from the Nazz crater. Isolated among the mountains and with barely two thousand inhabitants, the road to the "Ciudad Blanca", its capital, was so difficult that almost no one dared to go. Even the Babel Raines communications network, Bondel's infamous "Smoke Mirror", barely touched any of its points, due to the hills and the harsh climate.generateda natural Faraday cage.

— Okay, guys... I need pants! — Nazz begged, slamming an old wooden door with colonial carvings. He shook cobwebs off his feathers as he shivered, covered only by the old toga, the blanket Hawk had given him. — It's so cold!

— Oniisan! We're out of reception —. Vane complained to his brother, staring at his console and his right arm aching. The red medicine they'd given him had barely healed his wounds.

— And wasn't there a more dangerous entrance? — Jim complained, stepping softly as he held onto the beams of the tunnel they emerged from, scared by any creaking it made.

— Damn lazy kid —, Angela's uncle, Leo, annoyed as he used him as a support.

— I'm sorry. But this passage is the only way in without getting caught —, added Amaya, the sister. — Believe me, you'll be safer here than... than Grandma's little bed —, she boasted before showing us the church courtyard at the end of the secret tunnel. — Welcome to "El Pueblito".

When the fox, desperate, pushed everyone away. Kyoko emerged from the last seat into the sunlight, with the glamour of a celebrity. Wearing dark glasses, she shook the ground with a closed fan.

— Stupid hypocrite... She's the R-tuber! — Grumbled the crane. — She has 100,000 followers —, she clarified to surprise Angela, while Hawk watched his back, sorry for his cousin.

— Wow —, the athlete sighed, watching the desperate vixen search the internet with her bracelet.

Despite leading a simple, anachronistic, and ultra-conservative life, the increase in victims of the "Despertar" had forced community leaders to make quite progressive decisions. They sheltered their children and raised them, without demonizing them or sweeping them under the rug, as those in the capital did. In "El Pueblito," unlike the rest of Aztlán, the altered could walk the streets completely free.

— Hey Amaya, who are they? — Asked Angie to her sister, as they separated from the group, looking with some envy at the many Beta kids exercising in a makeshift ring. Locks and moves were the order of the day at the masked teen zoo. Very austere, poor, but full of harmony and smiles. The opposite of the well-capitalized Bondel Foundation, where she was interned.

— Ah, they're Father Romeros's boys. Iram Romeros.

— Father Iram? Don't tell me... —. She couldn't contain her excitement, recognizing the name of the man who served the Catholics at the Bondel Shelter. He had become a promise, the light at the end of the tunnel that was her certification process.

— Sorry, I'm so sorry,little gossip—Amaya stood in front of her. —We asked him not to tell you anything about us. It was very dangerous, with everything that was going on.

— Are we in his church? — Angie continued, ignoring his apology, marveling at what seemed like a paradise protected by faith in their God.

— Yes. The "Holy Burial" Orphanage Church —, the blonde explained. — Besides Bondel, the father is the only one who has a permit to care for hybrid girls. He's not just anyone; he's a national hero, kiddo. We wanted to bring you here with him, but... "El Elfo" caught us.

— Elfo, which Elf? — Angie was puzzled, forgetting the long explanation Kyoko had given her.

That was a true oasis for the altered like them. Well, that was until someone decided to take advantage of the strange phenomenon that limited communications. Taking advantage of the difficult geographical position, a bastard began to exploit the superhuman workforce living there, slowly turning the community into a giant new amphetamine laboratory. A perfect area to test a new and lethal poison, with which dear Uncle Leo had long been obsessed.

— This better not be a joke, 'Kerberos" —. A masked man with a light blue gaze, dressed in dark sportswear and a deep blue wool hat, was writing on his cell phone. This happened several years before the Montoya sisters set foot in Aztlán, when he cut an opening in the cyclone fence of an abandoned preschool in Guadalupe.

The cold of the stinking neighborhood, nestled among the dangerous hills on the outskirts of the White City, was almost gratifying that early morning. He had finally found her, the first sign of the investigation that would change his entire life.

— I got you, asshole —, he got excited as he entered, hidden behind a wooden game in the yard.

Looking through the scope of his camera, he saw a young dwarf of about eighteen, plump and wearing a trench coat, getting out of a black Mercedes. His hands were rubbing together excitedly, like an overweight kid outside McDonald's. He was protected by three dangerous Betas: a rat, a coyote, and a lizard, all armed to the teeth. So that the fat blond man in the coat would ask them, with a firm and defiant voice: