Aysha sat on the floor, slumped against the living room wall. Knees bent, tear-filled eyes fixed on the still bodies of her mother and little sister—motionless now, lying in thick pools of blood. The house—once a symbol of love, warmth, and routine—had turned into a grotesque crime scene.

She didn’t want to believe it.

She couldn’t.

How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

What had she done wrong?

Soft footsteps echoed near the front door. Someone was coming inside. She raised her eyes, trembling, but saw no one at first. Then, like a shadow rising from a nightmare, a figure slowly appeared. A tall man with a calm stride, the kind of presence that carries pain without explanation.

It was Lúcio Valentin.

Her father’s oldest friend. A long-time family acquaintance, known to Aysha since before she could walk. Lúcio was quiet—dark shirts or suits, rarely smiled, but always kind. He preferred silence over questions, and solitude over attention. At Aysha’s last birthday, he showed up wearing a dark brown shirt, black shorts, and sneakers. That was as casual as he ever got.

No one knew much about his personal life. Not even if he had children. Ézren and Lúcio had been close since before the emergence of the first Inhumans in Brazil. When people asked about his past, Lúcio would just shrug:

"There’s nothing special about my life. I just like being alone."

Now, here he was. Staring at the trail of blood left by the Mime.

Lúcio stepped in silently. His eyes moved from the bodies in the room to Aysha, curled up in the corner. He didn’t check for signs of life—no one survived that much blood. Aysha hadn’t even tried first aid. She was in shock.

— What happened here? — he asked, voice firm.

She didn’t respond.

— Aysha... are you alright? Who did this?

Still no answer. He pulled out his phone and started dialing.

— It was the mime guy... — she finally said, her voice broken.

He froze. The call was ringing.

— What?

— He killed my mom... and my sister. I got home late from fencing practice. I... I couldn’t save them.

A voice answered: — Emergency services. What's the situation?

— Double homicide at the Villard residence, number 96. Mother and daughter murdered. One survivor. Send police immediately.

— Understood. Stay where you are. Ambulance and officers are on the way. Is the survivor injured?

— No. Just in shock. Hurry.

He hung up.

— Tell me about this man. The mime. What did he look like?

Aysha raised her head. There was steel behind her tears now.

— You know him?

— Maybe. Describe him.

She inhaled slowly.

— Black shirt. Black pants. White gloves. Painted face. Sharp eyes… He dodged my punches with one hand. And when he hit me, it felt like he was toying with me. He made things happen just by pretending. Like... like a real mime.

Lúcio didn’t reply. He walked closer and knelt in front of her, locking eyes.

— Where’s your father?

— I don’t know. He wasn’t here. Have you seen him?

— No. But I know where to find him.

— Where?! — she leaned forward, desperate — He needs to know what happened! I don’t want to stay here!

— I can’t tell you where he is — Lúcio said, standing up — but I can take you to him.

She nodded. No hesitation.

Minutes later, the police arrived. Aysha and Lúcio gave their statements. The crime was filed as another act of violence by an Inhuman—no clear motive. Just another body count in Brazil’s ongoing civil conflict.

But Aysha knew:

There was nothing random about that massacre.

Lúcio and Aysha told the police they’d go straight to her father’s office at Argon. The car pulled up in front of a tall, gray building—nothing flashy, no signs. Argon didn’t need visibility.

Inside the elevator, silence wrapped around them like armor. Sixth floor. Turn left. A security guard opened the door without a word.

Aysha saw her father at the far end of a long conference table. Suits, serious faces, grave expressions. She ran to him.

— Dad!.. — she cried, collapsing into his arms — Mom… Priscila…

Cael embraced her tightly, as if he could hold the world still with that hug.

— Are you alright? — he asked, brushing her hair with trembling fingers.

— Yes… but Mom…

— I know. — His voice cracked. — I know who did it. And I promise you, he’ll pay. Every second he took from us, he’ll pay for it.

— But Dad… — Aysha pulled back slightly — you never told me you worked here. What is this place? What do you do?

He glanced at Lúcio. A silent understanding passed between them.

Cael knelt in front of her, eye to eye.

— This won’t be easy to hear. But you need to know. Are you ready?

She nodded, wiping away tears.

— The man who killed your mother and sister is called Mime. He’s a former agent of Argon. One of the most dangerous we've ever known.

— Mime…? — she repeated. The name burned.

— He leads a group called the Legion. Inhuman extremists who believe Brazil should be rebuilt through violence. They think justice only comes through blood. We thought he was dead... but he came back. And he came to our house.

— But… why Mom?

Cael hesitated. Swallowed hard.

— It wasn’t about her, Aysha. The target was always me.

She blinked, stunned.

— But… you’re just… my dad. What do you have to do with this?

Cael stood. The silence in the room tightened. No one dared interrupt.

— I’m the current director of Argon — he said quietly. — But it all started with your grandfather.

Aysha’s mouth opened slightly.

— Grandpa…?

— He founded Argon nearly a century ago, when the first signs of Isang appeared in Brazil. Ordinary people with powers... Some used them for good. Others took justice into their own hands. They killed corrupt politicians, businessmen… and the country sank into chaos. That’s when Ézren, your grandfather, created Argon. To keep the balance. To stop the abuse. He believed power without responsibility is a weapon.

Cael looked at the portrait on the wall. The old cape. The iron stare. A man who’d carried the weight of a broken nation.

— And he took in Mime. A young prodigy. Brilliant… but dangerous. Obsessed with surpassing every limit. He was the first to break the Isang’s rules. He became a god. Or… something worse.

— And Grandpa…?

— Fought him. Alone. And won. We thought Mime died that day. But he survived. And now… he wants revenge.

Aysha wept silently. Cael held her shoulders, firm and steady.

— I don’t know why he spared you. But I’m not waiting to find out. We’ll hunt him. With everything we’ve got.

She turned and saw her grandfather’s portrait again. The legacy. The blood in her veins.

— Then we’ll end this, Dad. For Mom. For Priscila.

Cael exhaled slowly.

— Aysha… he’s not like the others. Your grandfather was the only one who could defeat him. And he’s gone.

Everyone in the room understood what that meant.

Cael turned to the group:

— We go to war. All agents. All allies. We hit this clown with full force. No mercy.

After the meeting, the decision was clear:

Aysha would train under Agent Saulo Lima, a top-tier S-class field officer.

Phase one: complete isolation training.

Phase two: real missions on the streets, alongside Operação.

If she proved herself, she’d rise in rank—and at 18, earn her seat on the Argon Council.

Heir to the legacy. Future CEO of Argon.

It was a heavy burden. But it was what the world needed.

Later that night, walking with her father to the ninth floor suite, Aysha thought:

“Get stronger…”

That’s what he told me.

But why?

From that night on, nothing would ever be the same again.