Prophet3 Vigilante English

Chapter 8: The Second Star to the Right

The town nearest to the forest where the children appeared lay two hours away from Nazz’s crater. It was isolated among the mountains, with a population of barely two thousand. The route to the White City—the regional capital—was so arduous that almost no one dared to attempt it. Even the Babel Raines network—Bondel’s famous “Smoke Mirror”—barely reached a few spots in the hills; the peculiar climate across most of the terrain created a natural Faraday cage.

— Oniisan, I’ve got no reception —, Vanessa complained, tapping her console-bracelet as she moved through a dark tunnel. Her back felt nearly recovered, thanks to the red drug her cousin had injected into her.

— Couldn’t we have found a less lethal way in? — Jim muttered, leaning against the tunnel’s support beams, wincing and fearing that the whole structure might come crashing down with every creak.

— What a pain of a kid —, Leo—Angela’s uncle—remarked, cringing in embarrassment as the boy used him for support.

Desperate to escape the freezing trek, Nazz surged ahead upon spotting a colonial-style wooden door.

— Alright, gang... I need some pants! — he shouted. He had fully recovered from the potent paralytic effect of Angela’s threads—a toxic display that could have easily left an ordinary person in a coma. With a swift kick, the “crow” threw the door open. “It’s fucking freezing out here!” he exclaimed, shaking the dust from his feathers as he stepped out, shivering like a wet chick. He was wearing nothing but that old toga—the blanket Hawk had tossed his way.

— Sorry. This passage is the only way in without getting caught —, Amaya explained. —You’ll be safer here than... well, safer than in Grandma’s cozy bed —, she added, gesturing toward a church courtyard at the end of the tunnel. “Welcome to ‘El Pueblito.”

The vixen pushed her way through, desperate, searching for a signal on her wristband.

— How original, how picturesque — , remarked Kyōko, making a glamorous entrance—posing like an idol, complete with dark glasses and a folding fan—while her drones recorded a video for her Japanese fans.

— Hypocrite. She’s an R-tuber,” the crane grumbled. “She’s got two million followers from those videos of our missions.

Hawk sighed as he watched his cousin casually recount the previous night’s events in their native tongue, omitting anything classified. He would inevitably end up editing it all, as he always did.

The commander explained that, although these Aztlantecans lived simple, conservative lives, the rising number of victims of the “Awakening” had forced them to become more progressive. In “El Pueblito”—unlike the rest of the world—those who had been altered could walk about freely, without facing prejudice. Even his own futuristic homeland couldn’t manage that.

— 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.