Virus entered the seventh hideout with a slow, sardonic smile stretched across his face. The heavy doors hung broken behind him, metal still creaking from the force of his arrival. He landed lightly despite the destruction, boots touching the cracked ground as his eyes scanned the room.
A faint chuckle escaped him.
"So… this is it?" he said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The Legion? The fiercest assassin organization?"
His lips curled further.
"This is… disappointing."
Before anyone could respond, his hand lifted slightly—
—and a blast tore through the air.
One of the assassins didn't even have time to react.
His head was gone in an instant.
Silence followed. Thick. Heavy.
Then Virus's gaze shifted, locking onto three figures ahead—steady, unflinching.
Tora.
Grey Owl.
Falcon Empress.
Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by amusement.
"You must be the head…" he said, nodding toward Tora.
"The brains…" his eyes slid to Grey Owl.
"…and the baby brain."
Tora didn't reply.
Instead, he stepped forward, pulling out a two-headed chain sword. The metal links rattled as he spun it, the blades at each end slicing clean arcs through the air.
Beside him, Grey Owl reached back and drew the twin sickles once wielded by the Wolf King. Their edges caught the dim light, cold and lethal.
Falcon Empress followed, unsheathing her twin katanas with a smooth, practiced motion. The sound alone carried intent.
Virus watched all three of them.
Unimpressed.
"You see…" he continued casually, tilting his head, "I need a fight that will impress me. I heard the Legion performs rituals to enhance their physical abilities…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…but I haven't seen anything promising."
A pause.
"I want to fight the strongest."
He didn't get to finish.
Tora moved first.
The chain sword shot forward, slicing through the air with terrifying speed—but Virus caught it effortlessly, his hand snapping shut around the blade mid-flight.
A dry, derisive chuckle left him.
"Really?"
But then—
his expression shifted.
Tora was the only one in front of him.
The others—
gone.
Too late.
Grey Owl dropped from above, her movement silent, precise. The sickles came down in a calculated strike aimed to end it instantly.
Virus reacted on instinct, grabbing her leg mid-air, his grip tightening as he prepared to throw her aside—
—but Falcon Empress was already there.
Her blades flashed.
Clean.
Precise.
His legs fell away from his body.
For a split second—
nothing happened.
Then—
they grew back.
Flesh, metal, and something unnatural knitting together in an instant.
His regenerated leg snapped forward—
and Falcon Empress was sent flying backward, her body crashing into the wall.
At the same time, he hurled Grey Owl down—
—but she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, already moving again.
No hesitation.
No fear.
She ran straight back at him.
Behind him, the chain sword tightened.
Tora yanked hard—
dragging Virus toward him.
Virus turned, fist already moving—
—but Tora ducked under it, spinning the second blade of the chain sword upward toward his neck.
The strike missed by inches.
A kick followed.
Hard.
Tora's head snapped back as he hit the ground, blood spilling from his mouth.
Grey Owl seized the opening.
She leapt—
both sickles carving across Virus's back, tearing through him.
She moved to finish it—
—but his hand shot back, gripping her throat mid-motion.
Lifting her.
Stopping her.
"I know you," he said, his voice lower now, more focused. "The famous Grey Owl."
His grip tightened slightly.
"You killed many of the prototypes… M.A.R.K included."
A faint smile returned.
"You're all people talk about in the Agency."
His eyes darkened.
"But I am no prototype."
His voice sharpened.
"I can think. I am upgraded. I am better."
A pause.
"And I have a well-functioning brain."
His grip tightened again.
"So don't insult me with your… silly fights."
"I am powerful."
The next second—
his hand was gone.
Cleanly severed.
Grey Owl dropped to the ground, coughing as Falcon Empress stepped in, her blade still extended.
That—
that made him furious.
His expression twisted.
"Playtime is over."
Before any of them could react—
he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Their bodies slammed into the wall almost simultaneously, the impact cracking the surface behind them.
He raised his hand—
energy gathering—
ready to end it—
Then—
a horn.
Loud.
Unnatural.
Getting closer.
Everyone turned—
A car burst through the hideout wall.
Metal screamed. Concrete exploded outward.
The vehicle skidded to a halt in the middle of the chaos.
The door opened slowly.
Tim stepped out.
Black shades on.
Chewing gum.
Like none of this mattered.
He adjusted his stance slightly, looking at Virus, then at the injured Legion members.
A small smile formed.
"Hey," he said casually, walking forward. "You should stop bullying people weaker than you."
He glanced briefly at Grey Owl and Falcon Empress.
"Especially females."
Another step.
"This is really embarrassing."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And me—a teenager—telling a grown man what to do?"
He smirked.
"That's just sad."
Virus laughed.
"Who do you think you are?"
Tim stopped.
"Let's find out."
In the next instant—
Virus's head was smashed into the ground by Tim's knee.
No build-up.
No warning.
Just impact.
Tim walked past him like it was nothing, picking up one of Falcon Empress's fallen katanas.
Behind him, flesh began to shift.
Regenerate.
Virus stood again.
Laughing.
"Finally…"
He straightened.
"A worthy opponent."
Tim blew a bubble with his gum.
It popped.
He spat it out.
"I don't consider you a threat."
A pause.
"No hard feelings."
"You're weak."
That did it.
Virus's expression snapped.
As Tora tried to rise—
Virus kicked him back down, knocking him unconscious instantly.
Then he launched forward—
fast—
landing in front of Tim with enough force to send dust into the air.
But as it cleared—
Virus was on his knees.
Two of his arms—
gone.
He looked up—
just in time—
for Tim's kick to slam into his face.
"I am the true god of machines!" Virus roared, rage spilling out of him. "The all-knowing! I will end you and burn you to—"
The rest of his words never came.
Tim's blade moved.
His jaw fell—
severed.
Tim looked down at him, unimpressed.
"That's disrespectful," he said calmly. "And honestly…"
A slight tilt of his head.
"You're more pathetic than I thought."
Virus regenerated again—
but this time—
he stepped back.
Grey Owl and Falcon Empress moved to rejoin the fight—
—but Virus released a massive blast.
Tim moved faster.
He grabbed both of them—
pulling them clear before the energy could consume them.
He set Grey Owl aside carefully—
then turned to Falcon Empress.
Her breathing was strained.
The mask—
restricting.
Without thinking, he removed it.
And paused.
"…wow," he muttered.
"What beauty."
The moment broke.
A punch slammed into his face.
He hit the ground hard.
His glasses shattered.
Blood ran from his nose.
He stood slowly.
The gold lens in his eye began to glow.
"That was a good pair of sunglasses," he said, voice colder now. "And in front of a beautiful unconscious girl too…"
He looked at Virus.
"You really are unworthy of my time."
Virus laughed again—
charging energy like before.
"Goodbye."
But before the blast could release—
Tim was already there.
Arms.
Gone.
Legs.
Gone.
Punch after punch followed—relentless, precise—never giving him time to regenerate.
A slice—
across his eye.
A final series of blows—
his neck gave way.
Virus collapsed.
Broken.
Breathing—
barely.
For the first time—
fear.
Real fear.
He ran.
Tim didn't follow.
After words he drove Tora, Grey owl, and falcon empress to his supposed Home.
Tim woke up on his bed with a strange calm sitting in his chest. For a moment, he just lay there staring at the ceiling, the memory of everything still pressing against him. The crash, the fight, the way his body had moved like it finally belonged to him. He let out a slow breath, turned his head slightly, and a small smile formed on his face.
"I have finally accepted my body, Dad," he murmured, almost like saying it out loud would make it more real.
He sat up, rubbed his face, and checked the time. It was 3:00 p.m. on Sunday. After dressing, he went downstairs, calling out, "Mum."
No answer came from inside.
Then he heard noises outside, near the backyard.
Tim frowned and headed for the back door. When he opened it, he found his mother there with Benjamin standing beside her. But what made his expression change was what he saw just beyond them.
There, on a bench, was him.
Or rather, another him.
The second Tim was lying there asleep, wearing a soldier's vest and trousers. Tim stared at him for a second too long, his mind refusing to settle on what it was seeing. The sight of himself resting there like an ordinary stranger made his stomach twist.
The moment the others noticed he was awake, they rushed to calm him down, but the confusion was already there, sharp and deep. Jane told him to sit, and he did, though every muscle in him stayed tight. Deep down, he already knew this was no normal explanation. He could feel it in the air, in the way Benjamin kept glancing at him, in the way Jane looked like she was trying to hold the room together with sheer force.
Tim looked Benjamin in the eyes.
"I was an android clone all along," he said, his voice low and controlled, but with anger sitting underneath every word. "I was living someone else's life from the very beginning, and no one bothered to tell me. Is there any secret you aren't telling me?"
Benjamin didn't rush his answer. He seemed careful, like every word had weight.
"You aren't just an android," he said. "You have a heart, lungs, and other human parts, just like this Tim. But you have to understand the crisis we were in at that time."
That only made Tim more unsettled.
The other Tim, still half-asleep on the bench, opened one eye and looked at him with immediate irritation.
"You and I know what is happening here," he muttered, "so will you stop being a baby and man up?"
Tim's jaw tightened.
The second Tim looked him over, then scoffed. "You look dusty, and you also smell like fresh cow milk. Maybe that is why you say idiotic things."
Tim stood up from the bench so fast the chair scraped behind him.
"Maybe if you'd been in a glass tank for three and a half years," he shot back, "you would understand the smell of cow milk. And maybe if an android maniac you just met punched you in the face, then you would understand dusty."
For a second, the whole backyard went quiet.
Then Jane and Benjamin exchanged a look and told Tim he really needed to go take a shower.
Tim exhaled through his nose, still tense, still offended, but he let it go. Then he pointed at the second Tim and said, "Call me Tim, and call him Timothy. That way there won't be confusion from now on."
After a few more minutes of arguing, Jane decided to make it easier on everyone. She playfully named them Gold and Orange, based on the colors of their eye lenses. It was the first time the tension in the air eased even a little, and even then it only softened, never disappeared completely.
Tim went to take his shower.
The other Tim stayed behind and turned on the television.
Every channel was talking about the same thing now — the bright blue light, the strange disruption, the way telecommunication networks and other devices had been affected. The world was starting to react to whatever Tim had become, and the noise on the screen made the silence in the house feel even heavier.
And far away—
in Egypt—
Virus limped into the Black Skull headquarters, his body torn apart, barely holding together.
Fear lingered in him.
Something he once thought impossible.
Barron's image flickered to life, cold and commanding, ordering the scientists to implant the fragment of SKYFALL into him.
To make him stronger.
To unleash him.
Above, the Boeing C-17 Globemaster roared to life as soldiers loaded preserved tanks into its belly.
And in the largest one—
silent.
Still.
Waiting—
The Wolf King.