LEGION'S POV
I had spent the last few hours in my Grey Matter form. Being small has its advantages when working with microcircuits, but handling the Omnitrix was still a headache — literally.
I was hunched over, eyes fixed on the lines of holographic code floating in front of me.
"You should sleep now, sir," SID's voice resonated from the helmet on the floor. "In five hours the preparations begin and you'll need to be ready for the Atlantean envoys."
"Yes, yes, I know," I replied without stopping work. "But I need to be ready. My armor can handle the pressure of the deep and gives me some mobility in the water, but I need to be secure down there."
"What are you trying to do this time?"
"Aquatic is fine for swimming, but he alone won't be enough if things get ugly," I explained while adjusting a frequency. "I'm checking if I can unlock another one... or maybe..."
Suddenly, the watch emitted a sharp beep and began flickering in an intense green. I held my breath for a second, waiting for the result, but the light simply went out and returned to its normal state.
I let out a frustrated sigh and stretched, feeling my Galvan back crack.
"What happened?" SID wanted to know.
"I couldn't force a new transformation, but I at least managed to configure the system to switch between transformations without returning to my human form. Unfortunately, I can only do it twice before the watch runs out. It's the best I could do with the time I had."
"Something is better than nothing, sir," she commented, trying to be optimistic.
I nodded, feeling the accumulated exhaustion, and touched the Omnitrix on my back, returning to my human form.
"Tomorrow... well, technically today, is going to be a very long day."
"That it will, sir," SID agreed as I finally settled in to try to close my eyes.
I stayed quiet for a moment, enjoying the stillness of the room.
"Hey, SID — did you manage to get her number?"
"I spoke with Miss Jubilee and she was kind enough to provide it to me."
I opened one eye, confused.
"Why couldn't you just get it from the internet? Wait... you talk to Jubilee?"
"We usually exchange messages."
"About what?"
"Jubilee told me it's a girls' secret — I can't tell you."
I propped myself up slightly.
"Are you serious?"
"You must respect the girls' privacy, sir. But don't worry — we mostly talk about trivial things, things you might like, or she simply asks me if you're doing okay."
I made a faint mocking expression, though deep down it amused me. I lay back down and closed my eyes again.
"Well, I'm glad you found your first friend."
"You were my first friend, sir," she corrected me softly.
I smiled to myself.
"Good night, SID."
"Likewise, sir."
====
The leaders of the five tribes surrounded a large circular table while the glass walls of the Great City of Birnin Zana seemed to vibrate with the intensity of the discussion.
T'Chaka presided over the meeting from the head of the table, watching as the millennia-old alliances exchanged views.
"Atlantis has been our partner for generations," the leader of the Merchant Tribe began, adjusting his blue robes. "My father, my father's father, and many before them traded all their lives with the people of the sea. As in any place, there are individuals who cause trouble, but they are allies without a doubt. We cannot throw away centuries of prosperity over an isolated incident."
W'Kabi, of the Border Tribe, let out a snort of contempt.
"That's nonsense," he growled, pressing his hands on the table. "You only say that because your tribe has grown rich thanks to them. If you had seen what my people and I see every day, you wouldn't hesitate to put an end to them. Both down there and at our land borders there are desperate outsiders trying to get in, loot us and destroy us. Mercy is an invitation to invasion."
"As always, the Border Tribe is as aggressive as it is limited in thought," the leader of the River Tribe intervened with calm condescension. "Only those of us who have had direct contact with the people of the deep — like my tribe and the merchants — know how valiant they truly are. Their culture, their goods and their people are treasures as precious as vibranium itself."
"Not if that treasure comes at Wakanda's expense," the elder woman of the Mining Tribe growled, slamming the table with her fist. "Those damned fish have bothered us for far too long. When my people discovered the 'sacred crystal' in the deep aquatic veins, they attacked us without warning. Not a single warning or even a notice. The only difference between the outsiders on the surface and them is that the latter breathe underwater."
M'Baku, who had remained silent until then, let out a hoarse laugh and struck his chest firmly, making his armor creak.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" he exclaimed with a fierce smile. "Those arrogant creatures of the deep think they're superior just because their territory is vaster than the land itself. We've put up with their nonsense for far too long."
He rose to his feet, gesturing broadly across the entire technological hall.
"All this ostentation, all this 'technology' has made you passive and complacent. That crystal is surely vital to them — I say we go and take it from them, just as those bastards came in and murdered our people. I warned you — sooner or later they would turn their backs on us. And not only that; I told you someone would find us. First that damned white boy, Hunter, and now that foolish teenage 'superhero.' If I had been in charge..."
"If you had been in charge, what?" T'Chaka interrupted, fixing his cold gaze on him. "Would you have hit them with sticks and spears? Would you have thrown rocks at them?"
M'Baku huffed, holding the challenge in his gaze.
"You have become dependent on your machines, T'Chaka. That makes you weak. Or should I remind you what happened the last time we fought?"
T'Chaka smiled faintly — an expression that didn't reach his eyes.
"Oh, I remember. Of course I remember. I also remember cutting off your leg in that duel... Don't tell me you now feel brave enough to lose the other one."
M'Baku furrowed his brow and, for a brief second, his hand dropped instinctively toward his leg, clenching his jaw.
The ruler scanned the table, pausing on each of the leaders with solemnity. The tension between him and M'Baku still hung in the air, but the King decided to consider the matter closed.
"This problem will be resolved by my son," he declared. "He will handle the situation and return home having solved whatever issues arise. There will be no further discussion on the matter."
The leader of the River Tribe shifted in his seat, clearly unsettled by the declaration.
"The Black Panther leaving Wakanda?" he asked with concern. "That is dangerous. If something were to happen while he is outside our borders..."
"Nothing will happen, just as nothing has ever happened," T'Chaka cut him off with absolute confidence. "My son will depart with his men and the young hero. Together they will ensure that the people of the deep never bother us again."
The representative of the Merchant Tribe raised an eyebrow, catching a different undertone in the King's words. T'Chaka's tone no longer sounded like diplomacy — it sounded like a final and violent resolution.
"What exactly do you mean, my King?" he asked cautiously. "Are you planning for him to...?"
"My son will handle it," T'Chaka repeated, fixing his eyes on the merchant. "If you don't like the way I'm managing this conflict, you can challenge me to a duel right now and make whatever decision you see fit."
The merchant bowed his head immediately, falling silent. He knew perfectly well he had no chance in a fight against the King.
M'Baku, who still had his hand near his leg, let out a final growl as he settled back into his chair.
"He'd better handle it," he muttered with contempt. "Before I have to do it myself in my own way."
T'Chaka gave a minimal smile, devoid of any trace of humor, as he rose to his feet to bring the session to a close.
"Unfortunately for you, M'Baku, you will never have that opportunity."
With that final declaration, the King turned his back and left the room, leaving the tribal leaders submerged in silence.
===
The screen lit up with the face of J. Jonah Jameson, who straightened his mustache and adjusted his glasses with religious solemnity. He slapped a stack of papers against the desk and looked into the camera with an intensity that pierced right through the glass.
"Good evening, citizens!" Jameson bellowed. "For years, we've been told horror stories about what lurks in the shadows. We all remember the whispers about that mysterious group that stood up to the 'Brotherhood' of the infamous Magneto — a terrorist we all know far too well. We knew someone was out there, but the authorities, in their infinite bureaucratic wisdom, kept the information under lock and key. Nobody knew who they were or who they answered to — and the few who did know were watched to make sure they didn't breathe a word!"
Jameson leaned forward, lowering his voice but increasing the urgency.
"Well, a month ago the masks of doubt fell away. These individuals made themselves known by saving the world from a terrorist plague that would have wiped us off the map. And now the President of the United States himself has come forward to give them his full backing. Listen carefully! They call themselves the X-Men, and they've taught us something vital — the correct term is Metahumans. Enough with the derogatory labels! They are men and women who use the gifts God gave them to protect us."
Jameson pointed to a photo of Professor Xavier with a gesture of deep respect.
"These heroes come from the 'School for Gifted Youngsters,' run by Professor Charles Francis Xavier — a man of unimpeachable integrity and academic credentials who has dedicated his life to education. That is what we need! Order, institutions and government backing! These heroes show up wherever criminals try to cause mayhem, especially when ill-intentioned Metahumans threaten the innocent. They are the answer! And if any whining racist bigot has a problem with them, they can march to the White House and kiss the President's backside!"
Jameson paused, his face turning red and a vein beginning to throb on his forehead as he abruptly changed the subject.
"Unlike others!" he shouted, slamming the table. "Unlike that arachnid menace jumping across the rooftops of our city! While the X-Men collaborate with the government and act with the President's blessing, that Spider-Man cockroach keeps operating outside the law! I bet that masked lowlife is seething with envy in some dark alley right now, because we finally have real heroes and not some two-bit vigilante who only brings chaos and cobwebs to my streets! Spider-Man, you are a disgrace compared to the nobility of the X-Men!"
====
"Why are you watching that?" Okoye asked, appearing behind him and casting a shadow that covered him completely.
Legion jumped slightly but kept chewing as he turned toward her.
"What do you mean?" he tried to say, but what came out of his mouth was a dull, wet sound. "Whaddya meaph...?"
Okoye scanned the port, watching her soldiers work under the sun, then looked back at the young hero who seemed to be having a picnic while watching what was clearly a foreign news broadcast.
Legion, making a superhuman effort to speak without spitting out the fufu he had been offered for breakfast, gestured toward the soldiers.
"Zhey sheem to be doingk fine," he mumbled, his mouth thoroughly jammed. "Plussh I can't workh on an empty shtomach..."
The words were barely comprehensible, buried under the mass of food. Okoye raised a hand immediately, with an expression of absolute disapproval.
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
Legion froze. He made an exaggerated swallowing motion, forcing the enormous amount of food down in one go, and let out a sigh of relief as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
"Sorry, sorry," he said, now with a clear voice. "I was saying they look pretty professional — they don't need me watching them load boxes. Besides, I need energy if we're going to go down to the—"
Okoye was about to reply about the importance of vigilance and decorum, but the man on the hologram cut her off.
J. Jonah Jameson's voice shot up three octaves, vibrating with renewed indignation as he slapped his palm on the desk.
"BUT DON'T BE FOOLED!" Jameson roared from the screen, making even a couple of border soldiers turn their heads at the noise. "WHILE PROFESSOR XAVIER AND HIS NOBLE METAHUMANS SHOW THEIR FACES, THERE ARE OTHER RATS WHO HIDE BEHIND A MASK!"
===
"Power Man! Misty Knight! Colleen Wing! That White Tiger!" he spat the names as if they were venom. "Where do these people come from? Nobody knows! They take to the streets, beat people up in dark alleys and have the audacity to call it 'justice.' It's unacceptable! It's pure anarchy!" He stopped for a second to catch his breath and straighten his tie, softening his tone but maintaining the intensity. "On the other hand... we have the light of hope. The Avengers."
Jameson nodded fervently.
"They have made a real difference. Intervening in terrorist attacks, stopping nuclear missiles mid-flight, facing villains that would make these 'neighborhood vigilantes' wet their tights. They have saved millions of lives! The Avengers are the perfect and glorious example of what happens when individuals with special abilities work under the umbrella of legal institutions."
An image of Iron Man's armor gleamed on the hologram.
"And who would have thought it?" Jameson let out a dramatic laugh. "Tony Stark! The billionaire, playboy and philanthropist we all knew from his wild parties and his magazine covers with supermodels. Now he's a hero! An inspiring man! Stark has proven that change is possible. Not only does he save us with his repulsors, but with his innovations — clean energy, purifiers, medical donations that run into the billions. That man could well be considered a saint! The lives Stark saves minute by minute are beyond counting."
Suddenly, Jameson's face darkened. He moved so close to the camera that all that could be seen were his blazing eyes and his trembling mustache.
"But while we celebrate the saints, we ignore the demons. The great threat that everyone refuses to see... the 'number one superhero,' as many misguided people call him on social media." Jameson growled. "That individual still refuses to reveal his identity! He keeps entering countries that have strictly forbidden him from crossing their borders, ignoring boundaries, ignoring laws, doing whatever the hell he pleases on MY planet every single blessed day! And nobody does anything?"
Jameson broke into a slow, malicious smile — one that promised trouble.
"Fortunately, politicians have finally grown a backbone again. There is a rumor circulating in the highest circles..." he whispered, leaning in even closer. "Soon, an immediate arrest warrant will be issued against this global threat. And do you know the best part of all, citizens? Do you know who will be going after him? It will be an official mission by the Avengers themselves. Finally, order will put chaos in its place!"
==
When the last of Jameson's words faded, Legion let out a muffled laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand because he still had some fufu left to chew.
Okoye watched him in silence for a couple of seconds with a look that could have frozen magma.
"What are you laughing at?"
Legion ran the back of his hand across his lips, trying to compose himself.
"Well... it's funny," he replied, still with a spark of amusement.
Okoye raised an eyebrow, maintaining her rigid posture.
"It amuses you?"
Legion nodded, shrugging as he put away the holographic device.
"It's just... he's something else, you know? He's like this chaotic, contradictory character. It's incredible how he practically labels superheroes with secret identities as terrorists, but the ones without them he elevates so close to divinity that he almost calls them saints. It's funny to see how his mind works."
Okoye didn't move a single millimeter. Her expression remained that impenetrable wall typical of the Dora Milaje.
"So," she said in a flat voice, "you find it funny to be called a terrorist?"
Legion swallowed audibly, and for a moment he looked somewhat blindsided, as if he'd choked on the general's logic.
"Wha—? No, that's not it!" he exclaimed, waving his hands. "I mean, what's funny is the way Jonah expresses himself, and his character in general. He's... colorful."
Okoye narrowed her eyes by exactly one millimeter.
"I understand. So you don't mind being called a terrorist and a global threat, as long as the way it's delivered entertains you."
Legion stared at her, mouth slightly open, searching for the words to defend himself.
Okoye held his gaze, unperturbed.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Legion blinked in confusion.
"How the hell did you reach that conclusion?"
Okoye simply blinked once, turned her back without another word, and began walking with a firm step toward the dock where her prince was waiting.
"Hey, wait!" Legion exclaimed, jumping up from the crate and stumbling after her. "You misunderstood! That's not what I meant!"
He was behind her, gesturing and trying to explain himself while Okoye kept her pace without even glancing at him.
He was about to throw out another justification when, suddenly, the water in front of them began to churn violently.
Several Atlantean warriors began to emerge from the waters, clearing a path for the royal entourage. At the front came Byrrah, escorted by Namor, who maintained a severe and distant expression.
With protocolar elegance, Byrrah presented his respects to the Black Panther.
"My greetings, Prince T'Challa," Byrrah said with a slight bow. "It is an honor to escort you."
T'Challa responded with the same diplomatic courtesy, maintaining the composure his position demanded. Then Byrrah's gaze settled on the young hero.
Legion simply gave him a small nod.
"What's up — it'll be a pleasure to join you," the boy said, still with the taste of fufu in his mouth.
Byrrah nodded, returning the greeting cordially. He then glanced sideways at Namor, who remained in silence, watching the Wakandans as if he were looking at insects.
His cousin cleared his throat in a not-so-subtle way, giving him a clear signal.
Namor let out a huff of impatience before speaking.
"My warriors and I will escort you to the city," he said in a sharp voice. "Do not stray from the formation."
"I appreciate it," T'Challa replied calmly.
"It is the least we can do given the circumstances," Byrrah added, trying to soften his cousin's attitude.
The group began to move toward the Wakandan-designed submarine, where the soldiers were finishing loading the last supplies.
The Atlanteans walked alongside them, gradually sinking into the water as they escorted the vessel.
Once aboard and with the hatches sealed, T'Challa approached Okoye as the engines began to hum.
"Have you heard anything from my sister? I didn't see her before we left and I would have liked to say goodbye."
"The princess informed us that she would be in her room," Okoye replied. "She gave strict orders that no one was to disturb her. Perhaps she had a burst of technical inspiration and shut herself in to work."
T'Challa smiled affectionately.
"Yes, that sounds like her. My little sister, the super genius."
Legion, passing behind them at that very moment, caught the conversation.
His gaze drifted sideways toward an unusually large supply crate on the floor a few meters away, then back to T'Challa and Okoye. He let out an almost imperceptible laugh, shaking his head before going to take his seat.
With all the equipment secured, the submarine submerged completely. The exterior lights came on, illuminating the descent as they followed the Atlanteans toward the abyssal depths.
===
Time passed as the submarine descended. The silence inside was broken only by the hum of the engines and the rhythmic echo of the sonar.
T'Challa and Okoye stood near the reinforced viewports, watching as the light from the surface disappeared completely, giving way to a deep, electric blue.
Legion, sitting at a respectful distance, let out a low whistle as he gazed at the immensity outside.
"You know, before I had the watch, one of my greatest fears was exactly this," he confessed, pointing at the darkness of the ocean. "The deep ocean."
T'Challa turned his head slightly toward him.
"It is a reasonable fear," the prince replied. "The ocean holds ancient secrets and its magnitude is overwhelming. In many ways, it is as hostile and unknown as space itself."
"It's not just that," Legion added, nodding. "I think about the creatures that might live down here. Entities so large they could swallow you in one bite... without even meaning to. You know, like... Godzilla and all that."
Byrrah's voice came through the submarine's communicator.
"Your fears are not unfounded, young one," the Atlantean intervened. "Though I don't know who this Godzilla you speak of is, the dangers in the deep are vast, and the beasts you mention do indeed exist. Although, fortunately for us, it has been a long time since they posed a direct threat to us."
"What do you mean?" T'Challa asked, intrigued.
"My cousin Namor was born... blessed," Byrrah explained. "As you will have noticed at a glance, his abilities exceed those of any Atlantean. Not only can he manipulate water in incredible ways, but he possesses the gift of communicating with marine creatures and commanding them to his will. Despite his harsh character, he is, alongside his mother, one of the most beloved and respected individuals in Atlantis. He is our protector — similar to what the Black Panther is for Wakanda."
Okoye shifted her gaze to T'Challa. The prince returned it fleetingly, sharing a silent thought.
He is more dangerous than we believed.
Suddenly, a series of impacts shook the submarine's hull. The proximity alarms began to wail and the emergency lights bathed the interior in a flickering red.
"Report!" T'Challa ordered, steadying himself against a console.
"It's raiders," Byrrah's voice came through the communicator — tense but under control. "Trench pirates."
"Do you need support?" the prince asked quickly, glancing at his soldiers who were already gearing up.
"It's not necessary," Byrrah replied firmly. "That is precisely why we are here. We will handle it. Maintain your course."
Through the reinforced glass, the scene was chaotic — a group of deep-sea raiders, beings with skin toughened by pressure, surrounded the vessel.
They wielded bladed weapons of a dark, strange metal, along with guns that fired bursts of red energy that bubbled on contact with the cold water.
From inside, they watched as Namor launched himself into the fight.
He was a force of nature. His warriors deployed with spears, intercepting the raiders, but Namor simply bulldozed through them.
With swift movements he disarmed the attackers and struck with such force that visible shockwaves rippled through the water.
In the middle of the display, Legion got up and walked straight toward the airlock.
"Where are you going?" T'Challa asked, raising an eyebrow.
Legion stopped for a second in front of the hatch, adjusting the Omnitrix.
"What do you mean, where am I going?" he replied with a sideways smile. "To stretch my fins, of course. It's time to be a hero."
====
HEYYYY, HOW'S EVERYONE DOING? HOPE YOU'RE ALL WELL!
WELL, OUR PROTAGONIST HAS FINALLY UNLOCKED (PARTIALLY) ANOTHER FUNCTION OF THE OMNITRIX. WE ALSO GOT A GLIMPSE OF WHAT'S HAPPENED OVER THIS PAST MONTH — LIKE THE X-MEN PRESENTING THEMSELVES TO THE WORLD BACKED BY THE PRESIDENT.
IT ALSO SEEMS THE AVENGERS HAVE HAD THEIR OWN ADVENTURES, AND ON TOP OF THAT, SEVERAL NEW SUPERHEROES HAVE APPEARED, FIGHTING CRIME IN THE CITIES — MUCH TO THE DISPLEASURE OF OUR FAVORITE MUSTACHIOED MAN.
NOW THE JOURNEY HAS BEGUN, AND PROBLEMS HAVEN'T BEEN SLOW TO SHOW UP. IT'S TIME FOR THE AQUATIC ALIENS TO GET SOME LOVE, DON'T YOU THINK?
AS ALWAYS, I APPRECIATE YOUR COMMENTS AND ALL YOUR SUPPORT.
REMEMBER THAT IF YOU'D LIKE TO LEND AN EXTRA HAND, WE NOW HAVE PATREON: patreon.com/EmptyTag THE LINK IS ALSO ON MY PROFILE FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE.
TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES, A KISS 😘
P.S.: I'VE BEEN THINKING... WE'VE ALREADY REACHED 100K VIEWS, WHILE ON WEBNOVEL WE'RE ALMOST AT A MILLION... MAYBE I COULD DO SOMETHING SPECIAL, RIGHT? LIKE... AN ANIMATION? BUT I'D HAVE TO LOOK INTO PRICES AND THAT KIND OF THING, GET IN CONTACT AND MAKE SURE EVERYTHING CHECKS OUT... SO I'VE BEEN THINKING THAT IF I MANAGE TO GET ENOUGH FUNDS, IT WOULDN'T BE A BAD IDEA, WOULD IT? IF IT DOES HAPPEN (DON'T GET TOO EXCITED — I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY MINUTES IT WOULD BE, SO IT WOULD COVER JUST A PART, OR OTHERWISE A SUMMARIZED VERSION) — WHICH FIGHT WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE?