First Impressions and Hidden Powers
After a long private meeting with Professor Xavier—one that included only him and Owen—the others waited outside the office in a silence thick with tension.
Finally, Owen emerged. The moment he stepped out, every pair of eyes turned toward him, peeking from various windows of the mansion. They watched him with suspicion, with doubt… with hope. He responded only with a calm smile before walking away, saying nothing.
As he descended the front steps, Owen cast one final glance over his shoulder. Several silhouettes hurriedly retreated behind curtains—but too late.
…
"Professor, are you sure it was wise to tell him so much?" Jean asked, crossing her arms with concern. "What if his world is even worse than ours?"
Xavier watched in silence as Owen made his way to his car, his cane resting calmly across his lap.
"It's better to show our cards than to create enemies from the start," he finally replied. "A group that doesn't belong to either world, made up of powerful individuals… and no mutants among them. It's hard to predict what might happen."
…
Owen walked to his vehicle at a steady pace. His face, though composed, clearly showed signs of exhaustion. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number without hesitation.
"It's me. Stop aiming the cannons at the mansion… They're not hostile for now," he ordered calmly.
In orbit, a combat satellite began retracting its offensive modules, disassembling a newly deployed orbital cannon.
"Whoever the idiot is that caused that explosion… I'm sure it was their fault," Owen muttered while flipping through the file Xavier had shared with him.
It was absurd. Unbelievable. But at the same time, it had made his job much easier.
Without another word, he got in the car and drove off.
…
Later, Owen stood in front of General Nathaniel, who was reading the reports with a curious expression.
"I did it right… I did what protagonists do: I sat and waited for everything to fall into place. I deserve this! To be the strongest! The chosen one!" Nathaniel quoted mockingly, reading one of the last lines in the file.
"That's what they heard before being sucked into some kind of wormhole?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Owen, half expecting it to be a joke.
"Yes," Owen replied calmly.
"Fuu... So, what are they? Allies, enemies? What did you see?"
The general set the papers aside. What truly mattered to him was Owen's judgment, not the data.
"They seem like a small, tight-knit group. More focused on protecting each other than attacking," Owen began, his tone analytical and precise. "Their leader, the professor, may have a troublesome mental ability. The rest appear inexperienced, aside from one or two. They look more like teachers and students than warriors. It really is a school—full of children with abilities."
He paused before continuing.
"As I walked through the place, I noticed photos, décor, the layout… The mansion is isolated, far from any urban centers. Its defensive system is improvised but reactive: it indicates fear. Fear of people without powers."
"What do you mean by that?" Nathaniel asked.
"The children saw me and ran away like I was a monster. I was unarmed and not threatening. That kind of reaction only comes from constant abuse. Assuming I looked like a regular person to them, it means humans in their world are a danger. The fact that the adults pay more attention to protecting the kids than themselves confirms it. Their whole structure revolves around shielding those children."
Nathaniel nodded silently while Owen continued.
"The mansion looked intact from the outside, but I spotted signs of recent reconstruction. Missing paintings, furniture, decorative items… not because of the kids, but because they haven't had time to restore everything yet. They focused on structural damage. They didn't mention anything being destroyed in the wormhole transfer, so I'm guessing the damage happened back in their original world."
"And their leaders?" the general asked.
"Two of them tried to kill me on sight. The rest didn't. That difference in behavior suggests hierarchy—they're the leaders. They've probably been fighting constantly, living in life-or-death scenarios every day. The others haven't developed that instinct yet."
"Anything that didn't add up?" Nathaniel asked.
Owen nodded.
"The professor hid something. Among them was an adult woman—attractive, but completely out of sync with the rest of the group. She didn't belong. I knew because when she arrived, no one looked at her with familiarity. And when the professor delayed in stepping in to stop the fight, I understood why: he was having a similar meeting with her—just like the one he had with me. Sharing information."
He crossed his arms and concluded:
"That means they're not the only mutants—or people with powers—who ended up here."
Nathaniel fell silent for a moment, his expression darkening.
"More people with powers… That's not as great as it sounds. If they're allies, great. But if they lose control, or the higher-ups decide they're a threat, we'll have a problem."
He then looked at Owen with steady seriousness.
"No one bothers you because you're part of Vitae. Even if these kids came from another world, I don't want to see them getting attacked."
Owen raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised.
"Don't give me that look," Nathaniel said. "They're children. I don't care about their race, religion, or what universe they came from. That doesn't change a thing. Vitae was created to protect everyone."
"Sentimental," Owen muttered with a faintly mocking smile.
"Get out," Nathaniel growled, half annoyed, half amused.
Owen turned around and left… still smiling.
…
"So? How was your excursion?" Nicolás asked, carefully cleaning the new rifle he'd received the day before. He moved the cloth with practiced precision, almost like he was polishing a treasured relic.
"Annoying," Owen answered in his usual calm tone. He walked over to the back cabinet, where a line of cold drinks waited. As he grabbed a can, he added without looking back,
"Oh, and I saw your red-haired angel."
The metallic click of the can opening was immediately followed by the sharp stomp of boots crossing the floor. When Owen turned, Nicolás was already standing in front of him, grabbing his arms, his eyes wide with urgency.
Owen sidestepped smoothly, dodging the contact like it was second nature.
"Tell me everything. Where is she? What's her name? Was she hot? I swear, if you steal her from me, I'm not speaking to you for a year," Nicolás blurted out in rapid-fire succession.
"Tell me everything! Where is she? What's her name? Was she hot? I swear, if you win her over, I'm not talking to you for a whole year," Nicolás blurted out urgently, each word tumbling out faster than the last.
Owen gave him a sideways glance while taking a sip. "She has an ambiguous relationship with two guys."
"Two…?" Nicolás paused for half a second, then clicked his tongue. "Well, if she's as fiery as I saw, that makes sense. But if it's only ambiguous, that means there's still room for a third. Nobody knows who'll come out on top."
Owen's gaze sharpened. "Are you being serious right now?"
"Fuuu… no," Nicolás sighed, lowering his head. "I was trying to talk myself into it, but the moment I said it out loud, it sounded stupid."
He shrugged and set the rifle down on the table.
"There goes my love at first sight," he muttered in resignation. "Oh well."
With him, it was always hard to tell whether he was being sincere or just indulging in his usual flair for melodrama. Either way, a chronic romantic like Nicolás was always in love with one fantasy or another.
Just then, the door to the room swung open and Bruce Banner walked in holding a tablet. His expression lit up the moment he saw Owen.
"Owen, perfect timing. I've got something new on your data," he said as he quickly approached.
He held out the screen and started explaining with visible excitement.
"Legally, you're no longer in the super soldier category. You're now classified as superhuman. According to our measurements, your strength, reflexes, senses, and dexterity are all at least two hundred times greater than the human average."
"Twice that of the Captain?" Nicolás called out from the back, suddenly interested again.
"Exactly," Banner confirmed. "Steve Rogers was estimated to be around a hundred times above average. Owen has already surpassed him. And there's more: the electricity-based training sessions have increased your resistance to such a degree that you could likely survive a natural lightning strike. Literally. In fact, your body can absorb part of that energy and redirect it to power internal systems—even your personal devices."
Owen raised an eyebrow as he looked at the can in his hand.
"Does that mean I have to eat lightning to keep improving faster?"
Banner smiled. "Not literally. The super-nutrient bars work too. But... remember what we talked about? Once your body starts generating excess energy, you'll be able to release it offensively."
Owen's eyes showed the faintest spark of excitement.
"Can I shoot lightning?"
"No… not yet," Banner clarified with a neutral tone. "Your cells haven't reached full capacity. But what I did find is that it is possible. Not electricity, though—something just as lethal: pure kinetic energy."
"Like a shockwave?" Nicolás asked, walking over with the rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Something like that. During the last test, we managed to extract a saturated cell. The process was… extremely painful."
"Like having a nerve ripped out with acid," Owen added flatly, as if stating a fact.
"But right after extraction, that cell exploded. Hulk jumped in just in time to shield me. Thanks to that, we were able to confirm the hypothesis. You're generating stored energy, and your body is capable of channeling it and eventually releasing it as an advanced form of attack."
Studying actual superpowers wasn't exactly a common practice. First, because until recently, they didn't exist. And second, because science still treated them like fantasy. Until now.
"So when will I be able to use it?" Owen asked, visibly more engaged.
"We don't know yet," Banner admitted. "Your energy-storing cells are still expanding. Right now, they're busy keeping your immune system hyperactive, continuously reinforcing your muscle structure, and adapting to any external threat. Even if you stop training, your body keeps using energy to stay in a high-performance state."
"And if you keep evolving, eventually your body will need even more energy," he added. "So maybe… yeah. One day, you really will have to eat a lightning bolt."
Owen took another sip from his can, expression unchanged.
But he was smiling.