Prophet3 Vigilante English

Chapter 2: Sanatorium

Almost no one survived the physical crisis triggered by El Despertar. For those who did, the aftermath was often just as cruel. The Bondel Foundation's shelters were their only refuge—a place supposedly safe from the government's secret executions.

To the people of Aztlán, they were the most merciful solution for "monstrosities" like little Jim Sainz, his mother, and their neighbors.

Inside these walls, there was only one rule:

Be useful, and you might earn your license. Cause trouble, and you'll stay locked up forever.

— Come on, you little snake! Fight back, Marica*!

— Come on, you little snake! Fight back, Marica*!

Nine months had passed since Jim made his deal with the devil. Mr. Bondel had kept his end of the bargain: the children from Jim's neighborhood who had survived the supernatural disease—and awakened as hybrids—were now under his protection.

Bondel had kept his end of the bargain: the children from Jim's neighborhood who had survived the supernatural disease—and awakened as hybrids—were now under his protection

— Yeah! That's it! Beat his ass!

His former neighbors cheered as they watched him get beaten. Most of them were around his age.

— You damn traitor! This is what you get for being a witch's son!

They had blamed Jim ever since he arrived at the shelter. In their eyes, his mother was the one who had infected them all. And Jim was the one who had reported them, getting everyone locked inside this place.

He was used to having bullies. Being smart, arrogant, and a little too proud of himself had always made him an easy target. But things had gotten much worse since his arrival nine months ago. His neighbors now hurt him almost every day, leaving him bruised and breaking his bones.

He healed quickly. The pain, however, was another story. And the insults were even harder to swallow.

— Get up, you idiot!

His attacker was a blond boy with an altered body, oversized limbs, and powerful bear claws. He used them to rake Jim with brutal swipes.

— This is all your fault! We're all stuck here because of you, moron!

The boy grabbed him by the neck, squeezing until Jim could barely breathe.

— Mom... It hurts.

Jim's face had turned purple. More scales and snake-like features were spreading across it.

— I'm not giving them the satisfaction of hearing me beg.

He spat blood at his attacker.

— If it weren't for us, you'd all be dead!

He was tired of explaining himself to these sheep. None of them wanted to understand.

— Ignorant idiots.

Sarita, his mother's patient, had only been the first victim of a government operation to wipe out everyone in their neighborhood. Without Jim's intervention—and without his mother's influence and work—they would all have been executed.

Jim had meant well. He had saved their lives.

But he had also taken away their right to choose.

He had enrolled them in the Bondel Shelter, separating twenty families and locking them inside. All because of his overwhelming guilt. All because he had been desperate to follow his own plan.

He would never admit it, but deep down, he knew he deserved at least some of their hatred.

— Rip his guts out, Mikey!

The crowd kept cheering as the skinny boy struggled to break free. His glasses were cracked, his black hair was a mess, and every knee strike he threw drained what little air he had left.

— He's gonna puke! He's gonna puke!

The children laughed as Jim's face turned an even darker shade of purple.

The sound of cracking ribs caught the attention of a boy lying beneath a nearby tree. He had been waiting for the right moment to talk to the poor kid being beaten up.

But those cruel laughs brought back memories of the thieves who had attacked him months earlier.

And the young metalhead's anger began to rise.

And the young metalhead's anger began to rise