Clara placed the tea onto the table. I nodded absently as I stared at the holographic display in the room.

Friday stood at the side, showing the initial numbers of refugees. The screen showed this week’s influx, and the new predicted growth.

“As you can see, we can expect the population to double from 3,815 to over 8,000 by fall,” Friday explained. She moved her arms and pulled up the supporting data.

Public news, social sites, and Venezuela’s own government-provided data. There was a lot to sift through, but Friday managed to make it look effortless.

I nodded as I took a sip and allowed the warm tea to soothe my spirits. Of the 3,815 refugees, approximately 2,511 were metahumans.

This was more than what Friday had predicted. That there was an official refugee camp outside of Raccoon City.

Camp Sunday exceeded all projections. What was once a temporary setup was quickly becoming anything but temporary.

What we expected was a few hundred at most. Now they were close to 4,000. Which Val Verde could support, even if it meant unexpected philanthropy.

The fresh development in food, energy, and automated support ensured firm foundations. All so that we could extend help to these unfortunate people.

Not that they were all poor. Friday saw my eyes flicker to a pane near the back, and she brought it to the forefront.

A list of VIPs within the refugees. People who had connections, and motives for coming into this special zone. Most were looking for a safe place to settle down, if only for a small period of time.

Most would not become local citizens. They would check to see their homeland’s development before making large decisions.

Friday was already performing a game of connecting the dots. Except the pieces were people and with random history. We flagged those with problematic pasts, while the other people had blank files.

Anything beyond their basic information, name, body, and powers was useless for me. There was no need to record everything, and there was a lot of information out there.

My policy was simple, keep your nose clean and try not to be a terrible person. If they caused issues… well, that was what banishment was for. That or the nearest Venezuelan police force.

So far there were dozens of various people with sketchy pasts. Six of which had red flags. It affiliated them with criminal activities. Though nothing linking them to an organized entity infiltrating the camp.

“Track them, and we will deal with them as needed,” I said as I tapped at the first red flag. No name I recognize, but there were enough soldiers here to prevent issues.

Or so I hoped. That issue with the Friend’s of Humanity thing had unsettled me. This place was too vulnerable. Already heavy revisions were being drawn up. These included cement barricades to protect from future incursions.

Sue suggested pop-up barricades. We could hide the thick walls underground and they would rise up to defend against threats.

This would prevent a prison-style feeling. Give the people the mental assurance that they were not bound to this camp.

Now it was more important than ever to add as many layers of protection. The problem would be the balance between security and privacy. The metahumans were powerful, but untrained. A simple tantrum could end up devastating the countryside.

I leaned back and watched as Friday brought forth the calendar. It highlighted my next appointment. It was flashing as it was only minutes away.

I checked the clock and reared back in surprise. Was it already so late?

“Thank you Friday,” I said as I gave the digital being a smile.

She gave me a smile and vanished. The light from the simple table-mounted projector turned off. With a whirr, it began to retract into a black box.

Time for dinner.

—

Miss Mantega was chatting with her companions. A set of triplets, a blue-haired girl, and the fourth blond with very long hair.

I looked out the window, and into the scenic view over Racoon city. I narrowed my eyes for a moment, wondering what it was with blond girls and metagenes.

Hmmm, perhaps only Sue would know.

Blinking away such trivial, stray thoughts, I entered the room. Candice and Kori ever-present at my side.

Kara was busy with League business. There was an uptick this year as various criminal elements seemed to be proactive. It frustrated the young woman to be away from the beaches and unlimited drinks.

Harley and Ivy were tight-lipped. They did acknowledge that rumors were more exciting this year. Something different was occurring, but they did not know what it could be.

The two then asked for more research money and I approved of it.

Pamela was close to a breakthrough. The plants she was cultivating would ensure that they could grow well in low gravity biomes.

She was also working with some sort of creeper vine project. Something to ensure stability in case of instability.

Whatever it was, it was burning money at roughly five times the projected budget. Not that it worried me as it would have even a year ago.

Val Verde was now an exporter of rare metals and the world did not care how we got it, only that we had it for sale. Chokeholds on supply around the world found themselves shorthanded.

Turns out that cutthroat business practice did not create good business relations.

So the girls got their money, and they burned it with a smile. I saw it as an investment opportunity. So long as they did not break my trust, I would not break their lives.

“How are you settling in, Sofia?” I asked as I reached my seat. Now that we were on a more equal footing, I used her first name.

I acted like the gentleman and seated my two girls before seating myself. Sofia smiled, more at ease with talking with me than ever before.

“Things are too excitable, and there is so much to do! Thank god for Friday.” Sofia said as she ran her hands down her face. The stress lately was unreal. The work seemed to double every time she turned around.

I laughed as I understood her lamentations on a deep, spiritual level. Running a country was rough, and this camp would seem like a breeze in comparison.

Sofia was not a politician trained for large-scale leadership. She told me she had enough problems running a small squad of like-minded individuals. Now I had shoved her into a position leading thousands.

For good reason. I could trust Sofia to do what was best for the metahumans. They would always trust me to abuse them, but Sofia had vouchers for her attempts to get food into the country.

They trusted her. She was a metahuman, and her training with the X-Men was no secret.

“Friday can handle many things, Sofia, and she can assist you in every aspect of your role. Take it one step at a time. I can help as well, not to mention your various companions,” I gently reminded her.

It was easy to lose sight of the big picture when you got overwhelmed by everyday minutia. The others smiled at my motion towards them. They had been harassing Sofia to let them help, and now the big fish in the room supported them.

Sofia nodded, and her blue-haired friend, Noriko, consoled her with a chuckle and a pat on the back. The cuckoo triplets smiled as they met my eye.

Their eerie presence blunted by Kori. No matter how odd they could be, the three of them were most likely a half of one Koriander.

The last guest was one Illyana Rasputina, or Magik. The younger sister of Piotr Rasputin, or Colossus.

She stared at me with a neutral expression. She was here as a helper for Sofia, but also a liaison for Utopia, the only mutant nation in the world.

My food support for the Nation was garnering deeper connections. I was sure that Miss Rasputina was here to do more than provide transport for Sofia’s friends.

Though she has said nothing about deepening ties. Nor has she requested more aid. I had few doubts she was here to see what kind of person I was. She was here to be more than an amazing taxi service.

I wondered what Logan and Emma told them?

“What if I make the wrong decision?” Sofia asked in a near whisper. Her deepest fear was to mess things up and create a worse situation for everyone.

“Unless you decide on genocide,” I began, and her eyes snapped to mine. “It is most likely not the wrong decision. All enormous problems have solutions, even if they are difficult to get.”

“There are so many conflicting opinions. How do I find the right way?” the woman asked as she slumped onto the table. It was only in these moments that she could show her weak side.

“That is a hard question to answer. Val Verde does not have the solution you desire,” I conceded as I pondered on it.

Friday would know the best course of action. Her decisions were founded on cold logic and did not care about fanciful feelings.

The fact that she could break down each decision was like a hammer and anvil. You had to believe her when she finished explaining.

“How does Val Verde deal with refugee camps?” Sofia mumbled from between her hands.

“I will admit that third-class citizens would act like your typical refugee. The second-class and first-class citizens would be more open to labor projects. They would also understand the tough situations,” I replied as I recall my education.

The long, boring classes on social order, and disorder in junior high. Required education for all citizens of Val Verde.

How to act in case life forced you to take refuge during a disaster. A primer needed for life on an island in the middle of nowhere. Hurricanes were no joke, nor rare occurrences.

Sofia sat up and stared at me. My words had painted incredulity on her face and the others. Candice smirked as she looked to me for explanations as well.

She knew the answers but wanted to see if I would stir the pot. The others were now also staring at me.

“The foundations of the modern Val Verde begin with Hydra. They gifted us resources by Mother Elsbeth, who you may know as the wife of Baron Wolfgang von Strucker. A key pillar of the formation of Hydra,” I began, and the others listened.

Val Verde's history was young compared to many countries, but it was also more sinister than most.

“Elsbeth toured the world and found a starving nation at the end of World War 2. She brought in two key factors, resources, and the Greater Good. A state religion that is very simple at its core. Serve the greater good, and you too will prosper.” I sipped at the wine as the appetizers arrived.

Today it was simple bruschetta and toasted bread. I spent a few moments lathering on the spiced raw pork and crunched into the warm bread.

“They made agreements with the standing leaders and their military. Spread the greater good, and you will never want another soldier again, or so legends say.” I chuckled at the thought.

The original Supreme Leader was more concerned about staying in power. Mother Elsbeth abused that weakness and twisted the man into a loyalist.

“Very long story short. If you do not partake in the state-funded education, you are a third-class citizen. You still keep all rights to food, shelter, clothing, and social dignity. These people make up only a single percent of Val Verde. Mostly on the small surrounding islands,” I said as I tried to recall the various bits of statistics.

Was it only 1%, or was it up to 1.5%, Was it less than 1%? Whatever it was, the third-class was shrinking. The quality of life was skyrocketing on the mainland and drawing them away.

“Second-class involves completing basic education. Which includes a three-year stint in the military as auxiliary soldiers. They will ground you down to understand the Greater Good, society, and your place in it. If your perception of self is weak, we will rebuild you as a robust soldier. Or so the various drill sergeants are fond of promising,” I said with a chuckle.

Candice grimaced at the memories of auxiliary service. It was a three stint that began with a whirlwind tour of hell. All manifested into smiling drill sergeants who defined morning as something to ambush.

If I recall correctly, Major Zim now oversaw the Camp Currie. A facility that shaped new drill sergeants. What a scary thought.

“Second-class allows you to carry firearms, and live ammo. You are not to have them chambered, but we do not need special locks either. It would surprise you at how nonexistent crime occurs on Val Verde. That and how short criminal careers are,” Candice explained. She tried to recall the longest living criminal was.

A year? I believe they gunned the serial killer down as they identified her. A disturbed woman that grew up in an abusive home. A victim that created more victims. Sadly Val Verde was not free of such broken mentality.

“First-class is earned by enrolling into the military after First Service. This means you are now eligible to join one of the many Legions, and thus move active duty. This will involve travel, and potentially active combat,” I said as I hoped I wasn’t droning too much.

“First class gives you one very important right.” I stared into their eyes. They stared back into mine. “You will receive the right to vote. Only those who will risk their lives can understand the duty of voting. Politics requires at least two tours, five years each. To lead, you must be willing to die and do so with your fellow countrymen.”

Only through the realization of what it meant to lead, and to fail. That is why tours of duty were important. To imprint leaders knowing that they have responsibilities that went beyond simple words. I left out the part about capital punishment.

Failures of a political class usually ended up with you getting whipped. If I betrayed the country, I would get whipped to death. Which was also why we were searching for one Baron Zemo. Justice requested his presence, and a legion would ensure his trail be by whip, or by a hail of bullets.

“But that would create a military centric state,” Miss Rasputina said with a frown. She mentally rolled over my words and did not like them.

“Correct. We are not as flexible to dramatic changes in the political landscape. We are unified,” I agreed but thought on my travels and the various other governments.

I disliked them all. They preached and promised so much, but the people always suffered. Hubris had me consistently check on my reign. Not perfect, but I was heading in a good direction.

“How does that help me?” Sofia whispered. Ideas popped into her mind, but they did not make her happy.

“Val Verde runs differently. Not so different from a dictatorship, but there is one fact that you are not seeing,” I said with a bright smile.

The maids were now delivering the main course. Spaghetti was a time cherished dish.

“Which is?” Sofia asked, as hope peppered her voice.

“Val Verde backs you. I will back your decision with the lives of thousands, and tens of thousands of soldiers,” I assured her. I twirled my fork around a mass of noodles. “Your decisions only have to make sense to us, and you will not have to fear for your lives while they are all here.”

Sofia nodded, as did the Stepford Cuckoos. The three in one understood the power of a unified front. Knowing we protected you would mollify most of them. The large-scale groups of soldiers would deter the extremists.

“So long as they know they are safe, they are more agreeable,” one of them said, and the other two hummed along.

Sofia perked up. Agreeable meant fewer headaches!

“I am not saying you should run the camp as I would rule over Val Verde. Take inspiration from what you will,” I said, as I swallowed a wonderful mouthful of sauce and meat. “After all, the decisions you make will impact them for generations to come.”

Sofia wilted as that headache came back. No, wait. It was worse now!

Didn’t Logan teach a class on how to run a ramshackle organization? Wait, it was about how to organize them to fight ninjas. Why did Logan spend so much time on how to fight Ninjas!?

“We can do a tour soon. See the camp, and let them see us. Then we can adjust whatever plans you have come up with,” I chuckled, as I understood her feelings very well. The others laughed with me, as they did not envy her position in the slightest.

Why it felt like it was last week when I gained the title of Supreme Leader, and the heavy crown that came with it.

————

Chapter 53: First Class Duty