It had been over a week since Tim began to notice something was different about himself.
Since the incident with the bullies, something strange had happened—no one got bullied anymore. Not once. It was as if word had spread without anyone saying it out loud.
Dylan had tried to report Tim and Andrew, but the staff didn't take him seriously. Some even laughed it off. After that, he kept his distance.
Tim and Andrew, on the other hand, had grown inseparable.
Every day after school, they met by a quiet creek just outside town. What started as curiosity turned into routine—training, testing, pushing limits.
That was where it began.
At first, it was small.
Then it wasn't.
Blades—actual swords—would slide out from Tim's hands whenever he clenched his fists too tightly. At night, he could see farther than anyone should. Sometimes walls didn't feel like barriers anymore. Sounds carried—too far, too clear. His strength kept growing. His jumps became… unnatural.
Each day, he got better.
More control. Less fear.
And somewhere along the line, Tim stopped questioning it.
He believed it was a gift.
Something he was meant to have.
Far beneath the surface—over twenty-one feet underground—Dr. Sylvester worked in silence.
The lab was colder now. Cleaner. Controlled.
Screens flickered with data. Files filled with one name:
T.I.M.
Every document, every blueprint, every recorded observation about Tim's abilities was stored there.
But something was wrong.
Dr. Sylvester stared at the screen, brows tightening.
The files had changed.
Not deleted. Not corrupted.
Altered.
He hadn't done it.
A voice broke the silence.
"Is it ready?"
Dr. Sylvester turned.
Barron stood at the entrance—calm, composed, watching everything.
Dr. Sylvester looked older now. Tired. Fragile in a way he hadn't been before.
Without a word, he led Barron deeper into the lab.
They stopped in front of a tube.
It resembled the one Tim had been in—but this one was different. More advanced. More refined.
Inside stood a young man.
Still. Perfect.
"Project Virus," Dr. Sylvester said quietly.
The tube hissed open.
The young man stepped out.
Red eyes.
Sharp features.
Calm… but empty.
Barron smiled.
"Let's see what it can do," he said.
Late that night, the bar was loud.
Music pulsed through the walls. Glass clinked. People laughed, shouted, lived.
Then the doors opened.
She stepped in wearing an owl mask.
An axe rested on her shoulder.
Everything slowed.
The guards moved first.
They didn't last long.
Steel met flesh. Fast. Clean. Merciless.
By the time she reached the VIP section, the music had already begun to fade under the weight of panic.
Her gaze locked onto him.
A man sitting calmly, a scorpion tattoo inked across his forehead.
"Death Scorpious," she said.
He looked up… and smiled.
"You shouldn't resist," she continued. "It'll only make this worse. You betrayed the Legion."
He chuckled, leaning back.
"I've grown," he said. "I don't need gold or masks to kill anymore."
Then his eyes sharpened.
"You led the Legion of the Scorpion," he added slowly. "Tell me… how's your daughter? She should be, what… fifteen now?"
Silence.
Grey Owl didn't react.
"I'm not here to talk," she said.
"Then fight me."
He didn't even finish the sentence.
Her axe moved once.
His hand dropped to the floor.
The second swing ended everything.
"I don't do challenges," she said.
Chaos followed.
Anyone who tried to stop her fell just as quickly.
Moments later, she was gone.
Outside, her phone buzzed.
A message.
No name.
Just a picture.
Tim Sylvester.
And gold.
Grey Owl stared at it for a second… then disappeared into the night.
Two weeks later, Tim had improved.
A lot.
With Andrew pushing him, guiding him, sometimes even doubting him, his control sharpened faster than expected.
That afternoon, something new came up.
A party.
Jennifer's party.
Her house—no, her mansion.
Both of them said yes.
Neither of them admitted why.
They snuck out that night.
By 9:15 p.m., the party was already alive—music, lights, people everywhere.
For a while, everything felt… normal.
They laughed. Blended in. Forgot things.
Tim didn't.
He had something to say.
He spotted Jennifer across the room. For a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the lights, the people. It was just her.
He started walking toward her, heart beating faster with every step.
Then he stopped.
Andrew was already there.
Kissing her.
Tim froze.
The music kept playing, people moving around him like nothing had changed—but something had.
His chest tightened. He looked away, jaw clenching, forcing himself not to react..
By 11:14 p.m., it was over.
The streets were quieter on the way back.
Too quiet.
"Stop right there!"
Three men stepped out, guns raised.
"Phones, money—everything," one of them barked. "Or you won't see daylight."
Andrew's voice shook. "We're just kids… please…"
Tim stepped forward, his jaw still tight.
"No."
Andrew grabbed his arm. "Tim, don't—"
"I'm not scared of you," the robber snapped. "Shoot them and let's go."
That was enough.
Tim moved.
Fast.
He jumped—snatched the gun mid-air—and crushed it in his grip like it was nothing.
Before the others could react, he was already on them.
Precise. Brutal. Quick.
It was over in seconds.
Andrew stared. "We have to go. Now. Police—"
They ran.
On the way home, something felt off.
Tim slowed.
A voice.
Faint… but familiar.
His father.
"Dad…?"
The world flickered.
Sounds overlapped. Images bled into each other.
His head pounded.
His body weakened.
Then everything went dark.
Somewhere else—
Virus had been released.
No restraints. No limits.
One command:
Eliminate the Legion.
He stepped out into the open… then shot into the sky.
Fast.
Faster than anything human.
Like a bullet cutting through the night.