Two weeks had gone by
Timothy woke up and just… lay there for a second. No sudden jerk, no heavy breathing. The ceiling stayed the ceiling. Quiet. Still.
He blinked, then exhaled slowly.
For the first time in years, sleep didn't feel like a fight.
No constant nightmares dragging him back. No flashes waiting behind his eyes.
He sat up, a small smile creeping in like it didn't fully belong there.
It almost felt like a dream.
Today was his first time going back to school since the lab.
Jane had tried asking again last night.
"What did your father's project T.1.M. do to you?"
He didn't answer. Just kept his eyes on his plate, fingers tightening slightly around his fork.
She noticed.
She always did.
But she let it go.
The past sat there between them anyway—heavy, unspoken.
Timothy pushed it aside.
New life.
That's what this was supposed to be.
"Breakfast is ready!"
Jane's voice echoed through the house.
Timothy walked in.
Tim was already seated, hunched slightly, dragging his fork across the plate with more force than needed.
"Morning," Timothy said.
Tim didn't look up. Just grunted.
Some things were getting easier to get used to.
The tension. The silence. The strange normal.
Some things weren't.
Like the quiet footsteps at midnight.
Doors opening.
Closing.
Tim slipping in and out like he didn't want to be seen.
Timothy noticed.
He just didn't ask.
The table filled up.
And for a moment—it looked normal.
Plates. Food. Morning light.
Then you looked closer.
Fugitive assassins sitting like regular guests.
A meta son… and his double.
Jane, calm as ever, but her eyes moving just a little too much.
Grey Owl, quiet, watching.
A house full of people who shouldn't exist together.
Yet—
"Pass the bread."
"Don't finish that."
"Use your own cup."
—it worked.
Somehow.
Timothy sat there, barely touching his food, but his mind was already somewhere else.
School.
Normal people.
Normal life.
He'd been waiting for this.
Alita hadn't.
She sat still, untouched plate in front of her.
"Falcon Empress" didn't belong at a breakfast table.
Too loud. Too known.
Too dangerous.
So here—she was Alita.
Just Alita.
Her fingers rested lightly near the edge of the table, like she could move at any second.
Her eyes moved more than her body.
Watching.
Measuring.
School wasn't her world.
Never had been.
"School's cancelled today."
Tim said it mid-bite.
Casual.
Too casual.
Timothy looked up.
"…Cancelled?"
"Yeah."
Tim shrugged, finally glancing at him.
"Something came up."
A pause.
Timothy held his gaze for a second longer than needed.
Then—
"Oh."
After breakfast, he went back to his room.
Laid down.
The quiet wrapped around him again.
And just like that—
He fell asleep.
Out back—
Alita moved.
Steel flashed.
A clean swing.
then another.
The sound cut through the air, sharp and controlled.
No wasted movement.
Inside—
Jane picked up her coat.
Grey Owl stood by the door.
"Benjamin won't wait," he said.
Jane nodded.
They stepped out.
The door clicked shut behind them.
The house went quiet.
Too quiet.
The school bus groaned to a stop, swallowed a bunch of noisy kids, then pulled away like it had somewhere better to be.
Upstairs, Timothy was still deep in sleep, drool probably negotiating peace treaties with his pillow.
BAM.
The door flew open.
"Wake up, King Kong!" Falcon Empress barked, not even trying to be gentle. "Your brother lied. The bus is gone."
Timothy shot up like someone had tased him. "Huh—what?!"
He didn't even process it. He stumbled out of bed, half-blind, ran to the bathroom, handled urgent business like his life depended on it, then sprinted downstairs, nearly slipping on the last step.
He flung the door open.
Nothing.
No bus. No kids. Not even that one annoying kid who's always late.
Just empty road and betrayal.
Timothy stood there, breathing hard, staring into the distance like the bus might magically reverse back out of guilt.
Behind him, Falcon Empress leaned casually against the wall, completely unbothered.
Peace. Quiet. No forced "good mornings." No weird stares.
She glanced at the clock.
Thirty minutes late.
Exactly how she planned it.
Timothy dragged a hand down his face, already annoyed.
"Tim… I'm actually gonna kill that guy."
He didn't waste time.
He rushed—grabbing a helmet, ear blockers, and a thick, tight fabric. Then both their bags. No explanation.
"Put these on," he said, already moving.
Falcon Empress frowned, looking down at the gear in her hands.
"…what?"
No answer.
"Wear it. And wait for me at the back."
She hesitated, confused—but something in his tone made her listen. She put everything on, adjusting the tight fabric around her arms, the helmet sealing her vision slightly, the world dulling as the ear blockers slid in.
By the time she got to the back…
He was standing still.
Completely still.
Three minutes passed.
The air shifted.
Not wind...something else. Subtle. Wrong. Like pressure building in a place it shouldn't.
She narrowed her eyes behind the visor.
"…what are you doing?"
"Come here." Timothy said
She didn't move.
"I swear, if you try anything stupid," she said coldly, "I'm cutting off your left ear."
A pause.
"…fair."
She stepped forward anyway.
The moment she got close—he grabbed her.
And then...
Boom.
They were gone.
The ground didn't crack. It compressed like something had punched through air itself.
They shot upward and forward at once—so fast it didn't even feel like movement at first. Just force.
The city blurred beneath them.
Too fast for eyes.
Too fast for sound.
High enough to disappear from anyone below—
Low enough to stay off anything watching above.
He could go faster.
Break the sound barrier.
He didn't.
Not with her.
Falcon Empress held on.
At first, steady. Controlled.
Then—
Her grip tightened.
The world wasn't just moving—it was folding. The air around them didn't behave right. The pressure should've crushed against her, ripped at her breathing—
…but it didn't.
Not fully.
Still—
Her instincts screamed.
This wasn't speed she was used to.
This was something else.
They landed behind the school.
Hard.
THUD.
The impact sent a violent wave outward—
Iron trash bins were blown far back, crashing and rolling across the ground.
The concrete beneath them cracked, dented deep.
Silence followed.
He let go.
"…you good?" he asked.
Falcon Empress stood there.
Still.
Calm.
But her breathing betrayed her—just slightly uneven.
"…yeah," she said.
A beat.
"…don't do that again without warning."
He looked down.
His shoes were gone. Torn apart completely.
The ground beneath him wasn't much better.
He sighed, opened his backpack, pulled out flip flops like this was normal, and slipped them on.
Then casually—
He took back the helmet, the ear blockers, the fabric.
"Thanks."
He changed quickly, like nothing had just happened, and handed Falcon empress a dress to put on hers.
Then walked to the back door.
Opened it.
And they both went inside leading to the main gate.
Conversations thinned the moment Falcon Empress stepped through the gate.
It wasn't sudden—more like sound simply decided it no longer mattered. Heads turned, then stayed turned. A group of girls mid-conversation forgot the rest of their sentence; one blinked, as if trying to recover what had just loaded in her brain. A guy walking past nearly misstepped, then pretended he hadn't.
Even the security guards paused half a beat longer than necessary before remembering they had jobs.
The sway of her hips pulled the seams of her dress just enough—fabric cinching at the waist, then releasing. Not exaggerated. Not forced. Just enough to throw people off rhythm.
Timothy didn't slow down.
Falcon Empress followed a step behind, calm as ever—like attention wasn't new, just inconvenient. When she stepped fully into the light, conversations didn't just fade—they broke. Men forgot what they were saying. Some forgot who they were saying it to. A girl near the gate subtly checked her reflection in her phone screen, adjusting nothing, just… checking.
Her lips held that soft, velveteen look—like roses after rain—slightly parted, as if she barely noticed the air she was pulling in.
Timothy flashed his ID.
The guard nodded quickly, then nodded again, like the first one hadn't counted.
They moved on.
By the time they reached the senior hall, the energy shifted again. Dylan and his group were laughing near the lockers—loud, careless. Then they saw Timothy.
The laughter died mid-breath. One of them elbowed Dylan. "Bro… that's him." Mistaking Timothy for Tim
Dylan looked up, his face changing instantly. They started backing away slowly.
Falcon Empress? Forgotten for a second—until she moved again. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in a slow, dark fall, catching the light in soft ripples as she walked. Every blink cast faint shadows against her cheeks, her lashes cutting just enough to make people look twice without knowing why. Then they looked away—quickly.
Timothy stepped in front of Dylan.
Dylan froze. "I—I don't want problems," he rushed out. "I've changed. I don't even bully people anymore. I'm retired."
Timothy just looked at him. The gold lens caught the light. Dylan almost folded. "…Please don't hit me."
A pause. "Where's the principal's office?" Timothy asked.
Dylan blinked. "…That's it?"
Timothy waited.
"Oh—uh—next hallway, left!" Dylan pointed fast. "Please enjoy your day!"
Timothy nodded and walked off.
Falcon Empress passed Dylan a second later. Up close—it hit differently. Not loud. Not overwhelming.
Dylan stopped functioning entirely.
The principal's office door clicked open.
The woman behind the desk looked up—and paused. Her eyes moved from Timothy… then back again. "…Jane said twins," she murmured. "She didn't say copy and paste."
Her gaze shifted to Falcon Empress. A longer pause. "…And who is this sunshine behind you?"
A slight tilt of her head. "Alita, right?" Her brows lifted faintly. "You look like you walked out of a beauty war and into the wrong building, battle Angel."
Silence. Brief. Awkward.
Then she cleared her throat. "I've known your mother since high school—that's how I got you in mid-semester." A glance at Timothy. "Didn't know about the twins." Her eyes flicked back again. "…Or that she had someone like this in the family."
She stood, picking up a file. "Come on. I'll show you your lockers and classes." A pause. "You share four classes with Tim." Another look. "Try not to distract the entire school on your first day."
"I'll call him Tim," the principal said, tapping her pen lightly against the file. "Like your mother asked."
They both nodded.
Lockers slammed. Metal echoed down the hallway as students moved around them.
Andrew spotted Timothy—and lit up instantly.
"Tim!" he called, jogging over with a grin. "You're doing great, man. I was worried after that night—your mum telling us to leave through the back and all…"
He slowed, squinting.
"…Wait."
Andrew leaned in, studying his face like a detective who'd just found a plot hole.
"Your eyes… different." A pause. "You're taller too." Another sniff. "And you switched perfumes?"
He blinked, then shrugged it off with a laugh.
"Whatever. I gotta run. Meet you at the creek later, yeah?"
And just like that, he was gone.
Timothy watched him leave.
He knew Andrew—because the shared memories said so. But it felt like reading about someone instead of knowing them.
"Come along," the principal called, returning with a folder in hand.
They followed.
The classroom buzzed with noise—until the door opened.
Silence dropped like someone hit a mute button.
Tim sat beside Andrew, mid-sentence.
"…I'm telling you, I just saw you—"
He stopped.
Everyone did.
The principal stepped forward, smiling like she'd just set up the perfect prank.
"Class," she began, "this is Timothy—the elder twin of Tim, who you already know."
A beat.
"And this," she gestured to Falcon Empress, "is their cousin, Alita."
A collective gasp ripped through the room.
Heads snapped toward Tim.
His chair scraped loudly against the floor.
His jaw tightened.
Across from him, Timothy smiled.
That only made it worse.
The shock hit so hard that Falcon Empress barely registered to most of them—like their brains had reached maximum capacity.
The principal clapped her hands once.
"I'll let you all process that."
And just like that, she left.
The biology teacher walked in.
Took one look.
Paused.
"…Ah."
Another gasp.
By the end of the day, the reactions hadn't gotten any better.
The hallway was nearly empty when it happened.
Timothy felt it before he saw it—
A hand slammed him against the wall.
Hard.
"Stay away from me!" Tim snapped, enraged.
Then he let go and walked off without waiting for a reply.
Timothy stayed there for a second.
Then smiled.
Not because he felt like it.
Because it was easier.
At home, lunch waited.
Tim wasn't home yet, so Timothy decided to take it to him.
He walked towards the creek, two food packs in hand.
The air shifted as he got closer.
A sharp scent—like fire building before a flame.
Then voices.
He stepped into view.
Andrew was laughing.
Tim—was smiling.
Actually smiling.
He moved fast, testing steps, bursts of speed, pivoting like nothing in the world mattered. No frustration. No anger. Not even the loss of his blades seemed to weigh on him.
Just motion.
Just freedom.
Then—
He saw Timothy.
Everything snapped.
Tim moved fast. A hand locked around Timothy's neck, lifting him clean off the ground.
"Why are you here?" Tim's voice dropped. "I told you to stay out of my life."
Timothy's feet barely touched air.
For a split second, something dangerous flickered behind his eyes—
Gone just as fast.
He didn't fight it.
Andrew rushed forward. "Yo....yo, chill!"
Tim hesitated.
Then let go.
Timothy dropped, coughing, catching his breath.
"I… brought lunch," he managed, holding up the packs slightly.
Andrew blinked. "Wait… that's it?"
Tim filled Andrew in, but Andrew didn't think the tension between the two was that high—he also didn't get the hate.
Tim didn't look convinced.
"Leave," he said.
Timothy didn't move.
"No."
A beat.
Andrew raised a hand. "Bro… let him stay."
Tim clicked his tongue, annoyed—but stepped back.
"Fine."
"Speed check?" Andrew said, trying to lighten the mood.
Tim rolled his shoulders.
Timothy tilted his head.
"Or…" he said, "we make it interesting."
Both of them looked at him.
"A race."
Tim's eyes narrowed.
"If I win," Timothy continued, "you stop being annoying toward me." A small smile. "And you never see Andrew again."
Andrew blinked. "Wait—what?"
"And if you win," Timothy added calmly, "I dye my hair… leave the house… and take the legion with me."
Silence.
Tim didn't hesitate.
"Deal."
Andrew looked between them. "…This feels illegal, but okay."
"Four laps. Around the creek and back," Andrew said, holding up a stopwatch.
Tim cracked his neck.
Timothy just stood there, relaxed.
"Best time?" Andrew added.
"12 seconds," Tim said.
A pause.
"I wasn't trying."
"On your marks…"
They crouched.
"Set…"
Air tensed.
"GO!"
They vanished.
The ground cracked under the force. Wind exploded outward, trees shaking violently as streaks of motion tore around the creek.
Lap one...blur.
Lap two...shockwaves.
Lap three...Andrew bracing himself just to stay standing.
Final lap...
Timothy pulled ahead.
Barely.
Just enough to win.
Then—
He slowed.
Just slightly.
Tim crossed first.
BOOM.
The force sent Andrew flying backward. He hit the ground hard, rolling before stopping.
"…What…" he gasped, staring at the stopwatch. "5.87 seconds…"
He laughed in disbelief. "That's....people take fifteen minutes to run that!"
Tim turned, furious.
"You let me win."
Timothy shrugged.
"It's fun to fail sometimes."
Before Tim could respond—
Timothy lifted off the ground.
Slowly.
Not with effort — just a gradual uncoupling from gravity, like the earth was gently letting him go. His heels rose first, then his toes, then the empty space between him and the grass grew inch by inch. The breeze that had been stirring the creek died completely... as if the air itself was holding its breath.
He hung there, arms loose at his sides, the gold lens catching a single glint of sunlight. For a moment, nothing moved. Not him. Not the trees. Not even Tim's furious glare — it just froze, waiting.
Timothy's gaze swept over them, unhurried, almost apologetic.
"I'll be heading back," he said, voice low and calm.
Then —
His body snapped.
Not a lift. Not a climb. A detonation of motion — a crack that split the air open like a whip, the ground beneath him cratering from the sheer force of departure. He didn't rise; he punched through the sky, a streak of dark fabric and blurred limbs, tearing a white gash across the blue in less than a heartbeat.
The boom hit a second later — a thunderclap that shook the trees, sent birds scattering, and knocked Andrew back a step.
Tim's hair whipped sideways from the shockwave.
And Timothy was gone.
Not fading. Not ascending. Just there, then not — like a bullet that had already reached its target before the sound caught up.
The sky was empty.
The silence that followed was heavier than the crack that preceded it.
Andrew's stopwatch ticked, forgotten.
He stared at the vacant horizon, mouth half-open
Andrew and Tim stood there, frozen, amazed.
"…Yeah," Andrew finally said, voice hoarse. "Your family is not normal."