It was June 1st, 1996—
She was eight years old.
An orphan.
Her parents had been killed in a bomb blast two years earlier… right in front of her.
She never forgot the sound.
The fire.
The silence that came after.
But she wasn't alone.
She had her twin sister.
Annabelle.
They were adopted.
But not saved.
The house they entered was worse than the one they lost.
Beatings.
Punishments.
Pain for the smallest mistakes.
So—
They ran.
They found an abandoned house.
Unfinished.
Empty.
But it was theirs.
They lived there.
Survived there.
Until 1997.
Her name was Mirabelle.
Her sister—Annabelle.
Identical in appearance.
Grey and white hair.
Same eyes.
Same face.
But different souls.
Annabelle was calm. Kind. Obedient.
Mirabelle was stubborn. Fierce. Defiant.
And despite being the elder, Annabelle carried the burden of protecting them both.
Until—
She couldn't anymore.
Annabelle fell sick.
Badly.
She lay on a torn cushion, barely breathing.
Mirabelle sat beside her, helpless.
"No…" she whispered.
She stood up.
"I'll fix this."
She searched everywhere.
Begged.
Tried.
Failed.
Not a single coin.
Then—
She saw them.
Men.
Drug dealers.
Money.
Stacks of it.
That night—
She broke in.
Stole everything she could carry.
She didn't know…
They were watching.
She ran back home.
Burst through the door.
"We can go to the hospital now!" she said.
Annabelle shook her head weakly.
"Mirabelle… you stole that…"
Tears filled Mirabelle's eyes.
"You're dying!"
Before she could say more—
The door exploded open.
They had found her.
"RUN!" Mirabelle shouted.
They rushed toward their hidden underground space.
Mirabelle got in.
Annabelle didn't.
She saw them.
Too close.
Too fast.
So she did the only thing she could.
She shut the hideout.
Locking Mirabelle inside.
"No! ANNABELLE!!"
Annabelle ran.
Weak.
Slow.
They caught her.
The drug lord stepped forward.
Gold teeth.
Bearded.
A cross tattoo carved into his face.
"Why steal from me?" he asked.
Annabelle dropped to her knees.
"Please… I was sick… I needed help… I'll return it—"
He laughed.
Cold.
"Sin doesn't go unpunished."
They took the money.
Then—
They took everything else.
Mirabelle watched.
Frozen.
Shaking.
Breaking.
Then—
Gunshots.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until—
Silence.
They laughed.
Left her there.
Broken.
Gone.
The hideout door creaked open.
Mirabelle stepped out slowly.
Tears streamed endlessly.
She saw her sister's head placed back against her body, as if they were trying to pretend she was still whole.
And something inside her—
Snapped.
She grabbed a sharpened metal pipe.
Turned.
Ran.
She attacked.
Wild.
Uncontrolled.
She stabbed anyone she could reach.
Screaming.
Crying.
Bleeding.
She jumped onto the drug lord.
And didn't stop.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
Until his head barely held together.
Then—
Something moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Men screamed.
Their hands—
Gone.
Cleanly severed.
A figure stood behind them.
Tall.
Muscular.
Wearing a wolf mask.
Clad in Egyptian-styled armor.
The Wolf King.
His sickles moved like shadows.
Precise.
Cruel.
Efficient.
He didn't just kill them.
He made them suffer.
Then ended them.
Silence returned.
He turned.
Saw her.
A child.
Covered in blood.
Still stabbing.
Still broken.
"Hey…" he said softly.
She didn't stop.
"I know that look," he continued.
"I had a childhood just like yours."
She slowed.
Barely.
"There's a place… a group."
He stepped closer.
"The Legion."
"They took me in. Gave me purpose."
A pause.
"You'll have to give them your loyalty."
Another pause.
"But they'll give you a family."
She stopped.
Dropped the weapon.
Walked to him.
And collapsed into his arms.
Screaming.
Crying.
Letting it all out.
When she pulled away—
She picked up her sister's head.
Held it close.
Two owls landed on her shoulders.
Silent.
Watching.
Mirabelle was gone.
Grey Owl was born.
Present
Tim stood still.
Breathing heavily.
Watching.
Learning.
Grey Owl's voice cut through the air.
"Resist your fate… and die."
Tim clenched his fists.
His eyes flickered dark orange.
"I've had enough today…"
His voice was low.
"I just found out I'm a clone. Not even a full body… just a brain."
He looked at her.
"So please… don't make this worse."
She laughed.
Cold.
"You think you can hurt—"
She never finished.
Tim moved first.
His elbow struck her—
Hard.
She flew back—
Into her own traps.
But she recovered instantly.
Dodging everything.
Escaping flawlessly.
She stood.
Picked up her axes.
Eyes sharp.
"Now you've done it."
They charged.
Tim leapt high—
Crashed down—
The ground shattered.
She wasn't there.
A kick—
His neck snapped sideways.
An axe followed—
He barely rolled away.
She was behind him.
Already.
The fight turned brutal.
Fast.
Precise.
She used shadows.
Speed.
Technique.
He used power.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
She struck.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until—
Blood.
Then—
A voice.
"Trust your own body."
His father.
Echoing.
Tim closed his eyes.
Opened them—
Light.
Blue.
Blinding.
A beam shot into the sky.
Piercing the clouds.
Seen across the city.
Grey Owl barely escaped it.
Far away—
Virus had just finished killing people in Legion hideouts 2, 3, 5, and 8 when he saw the blue beam of light. Headed toward it..
And smiled.
Back to the battlefield—
Grey Owl retreated.
Not out of fear.
But calculation.
She would finish this later.
But she wasn't alone.
Virus was already watching her. He received a message from Barron telling him to follow Grey Owl quietly and dispose of her and the entire Legion
He grinned.
Following.
Silently.
Ordered to kill.
And destroy the Legion.
Meanwhile—
Tim's scream tore through the air—
—and the city answered.
A television flickered.
Then another.
Screens across buildings snapped from static to a deep, pulsing blue.
News anchors froze mid-sentence—faces stretched, distorted—then replaced by a single, humming glow.
Phones buzzed.
Vibrated.
Slipped from hands onto concrete.
Their screens bled the same blue light—
glitching—stuttering—whispering.
A sound crawled out of them.
Not quite static.
Not quite a voice.
Something in between.
Car alarms died mid-wail.
Streetlights flickered out.
Signals dropped—
One by one.
Everything listening—
stopped.
Except him.
Tim clutched his head, screaming harder.
The air around him warped—
like heat bending reality—
cracks racing along the ground beneath his feet.
Then—
Jane.
She broke into the chaos at full speed, sliding to a stop just outside the distortion.
Her eyes scanned once—
locked on him.
"No time…" she muttered.
From her side, she pulled out a small, round device—
no bigger than a palm-sized phone.
No hesitation.
She hurled it.
It hit the ground—
rolled once—
then—
clicked.
Legs snapped out.
Thin. Metallic. Precise.
It stood—
then moved.
Fast.
Straight toward him.
The ground split beside it—
energy lashed outward—
but it didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
Didn't burn.
It climbed over debris—
leapt—
latched onto his shoulder—
then crawled up—
to his head.
Tim barely noticed.
Still screaming.
Still breaking.
The device locked into place—
and for a split second—
everything paused.
Then—
orange.
A sharp beam burst from its core—
flooding his face.
His scream cut—
short.
His body stiffened—
eyes wide—
then—
empty.
He dropped.
Hard.
The light faded.
The legs retracted.
Silence followed—
heavy.
Unnatural.
Jane exhaled slowly, stepping forward.
"…sleep," she whispered.
The city stayed dim.
Screens still glowing.
Watching.
Meanwhile, the original Tim was inside the unknown lab, trapped in a gigantic glass tube filled with blue chemical water and green lights. A green light above the chamber blinked at 100 percent. Then the tube opened.
His eyes snapped open. The glass shattered around him. Naked, with cables still attached to his back, he stood under the cold lab lights. His eyes were white and empty, and he pulled off the oxygen mask, then the strange lenses over them. A long scar ran from his leg to his stomach.
Soldiers rushed in with guns raised. Tim lowered his head. His wet hair covered part of his face. Then he looked up.
Their weapons began to fall apart in their hands. Bullets and pieces of metal floated around him, spinning uselessly in the air. Before they could understand what was happening, Tim was already behind them.
"If any of you follow me," he said calmly, "all of that will end your life. I don't want that to happen. Once I'm far enough away, it'll all fall apart. Oh—and the short soldier on the left, please help me with your vest and trouser."
A few moments later, Tim walked out of the facility wearing the soldier's vest and trouser. He got into a car, and as he looked ahead, possibilities flashed through his mind in an instant. A smile formed on his face. He started the car and drove off at terrifying speed, his gold eye lenses returning as he vanished into the night.
Grey Owl had reached the Seventh Hideout and ordered an immediate evacuation. She kept calling for Falcon Empress, and a young girl came downstairs in a white-and-black suit with a white coat and a black mask. The girl rushed to her and hugged her tightly.
"Mum, you're back."
Grey Owl gave her a look. "Have you been watching Deadpool again? That movie is not for your age."
Before she could say more, the commander stumbled in, his clothes burnt and ruined. Grey Owl turned to him sharply.
"Tora… what happened to you?"
Then Virus burst in, destroying the gate of the hideout with one violent strike. He stood there, smiling coldly, red eyes glowing in the dark.
At the same time, the second Tim was still in the present, fighting Grey Owl and beginning to understand the truth of what he was.
It was 5:17 AM. Jane sat on a blue couch, unable to sleep. She stood, went upstairs to check on Tim, then came back down.
As she was about to turn on the television, she heard the doorbell. When she opened the door, it was Andrew and Jennifer. Andrew quickly asked for Tim and ran upstairs to see him.
Before Jane could close the door, Benjamin arrived, and she let him in.
As she began explaining the situation to Benjamin, the doorbell rang again. She opened the door and froze.
It was Timothy.
He was holding Falcon Empress, Grey Owl, and Tora.
"Hey, Mum," Tim said. "Room for four?"