Sunlight pierced the penthouse blinds, rousing Alex from a deep, sated slumber. Flanked by Peggy's lithe form curled against his left side and Alcina's voluptuous curves draped over his right, he savored the sight of their peaceful, exhausted faces—marks of last night's fervor fading on their skin. Both women stirred faintly but slumbered on as he slipped free, muscles pleasantly sore, and padded naked to his lab. There, the clone Peggy lay motionless on the steel table, her programming nearly complete after hours of neural fine-tuning to mirror the original's memories and loyalties, primed for her role in the unfolding timeline.
Three hours blurred in precise adjustments—neural subroutines locked, behavioral inhibitors set. The clone's eyes fluttered open, emerald and sharp, scanning Alex with programmed familiarity. "Mission parameters active," she intoned softly, voice an exact echo of Peggy's British lilt. He handed her Peggy's old tactical clothes—uniform, boots, sidearm holster—watching her dress efficiently. "You're her shadow now. Integrate seamlessly." She nodded, expression hardening into Carter resolve, and followed him out toward the penthouse hall, her steps measured and silent.
Meanwhile, Peggy stirred first in the bedroom, cheeks flushing at fragmented memories of the threesome's intensity, only to find Alcina already awake, propped on an elbow with a predatory smirk. "Enjoyed yourself, darling?" the taller woman purred, golden eyes glinting. Peggy's shyness melted into a wry grin—"Wild doesn't cover it"—and they bonded swiftly over shared exhaustion, laughing as they freshened up in the en-suite shower, steam veiling playful splashes and lingering touches. Dressed in robes, they raided the kitchen, Alcina wielding pans with aristocratic flair while Peggy chopped vegetables, their banter flowing easily: "Think he'll survive us both?" Peggy teased, earning Alcina's throaty chuckle.
The aroma of eggs, bacon, and fresh scones wafted through the penthouse as Alex emerged with the clone trailing discreetly. Peggy froze mid-flip, spatula hovering, eyes widening at her duplicate's approach—identical down to the smudged cheek from "battle." Alcina arched a brow, amused, while the clone offered a crisp salute: "Agent Carter reporting, ma'am. Ready for deployment." Peggy recovered with a laugh, pulling Alex aside. "She's perfect—timeline secure?" He nodded, smirking. "Flawless."
Alex set his mug down with a decisive clink, his red eyes sweeping the table where Peggy and Alcina watched him expectantly, the clone mirroring their attention with mechanical poise. "Peggy, Alcina—I'm taking Clone Peggy to the military camp now," he announced, voice steady as steel. "Timeline demands it." Real Peggy's fork paused mid-air, her enhanced reflexes betraying a flicker of stunned hesitation—could she truly surrender her identity, her battles, to this flawless echo? The weight pressed on her chest, a phantom ache of loss, but she shrugged it off with super-soldier resolve, forcing a wry smile. "Go on, then. She's me, down to the stubborn streak. Just... keep the world spinning." Alcina's gloved hand squeezed Peggy's knee under the table, a silent anchor of solidarity, her golden gaze approving. "We'll hold the fort, darling."
Alex nodded, rising with predatory grace, the clone falling in step like a shadow as he dressed in tactical blacks. Peggy and Alcina lingered at the window, watching his sleek black jet slice the dawn sky toward the base. Hours later, it touched down amid the mud-churned airfield, soldiers snapping to attention at the sight of "Captain Carter"—though whispers rippled at her frail, bony frame, devoid of the serum's sculpted power. Colonel Phillips stormed forward, cigar clenched like a grenade pin, his bulldog face paling. "Reyes! What in blazes happened to our super soldier? She looks half-starved!" Howard Stark hovered nearby, goggles askew, brow furrowed in concern.
Alex met Phillips' glare unflinchingly, gesturing to the clone who stood ramrod straight. "Tesseract beam from Schmidt—evaporated the super soldier serum right out of her system. She's normal now, no enhancements, not a trace left in her blood. We can't replicate it; Erskine's formula died with him." Phillips stumbled back a step, cigar ash tumbling, his mind reeling at the catastrophe—how to brief the brass on losing their trump card? "Christ almighty," he muttered, rubbing his jowls. "War's halfway won because of her..." Alex clapped his shoulder firmly. "She'll soldier on, Colonel. Intelligence, strategy—she's still Peggy Carter. I'll leave you to it." Pivoting to Howard, he gripped the inventor's arm. "Take care of her, Stark. See you on the other side." Howard nodded grimly. "You got it, Alex. She's family."
The jet roared skyward, base shrinking to a speck as Alex exhaled, timeline pivot secured. Umbrella's spire gleamed on the horizon, a fortress of secrets. He strode onto his private floor, the air humming with quiet anticipation, and there they were—Peggy perched on the lab bench in a silk robe, legs swinging idly, while Alcina lounged against the console, her white gown artfully disheveled, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand. "How'd it go?" Peggy asked, hopping down, her genuine concern softening into relief at his nod. "Flawless integration. Phillips bought it hook, line, and serum."
Alcina swirled her drink, lips curving in a knowing smile. "And our shadow Peggy? Playing the part?" Alex chuckled, loosening his collar. "To perfection. Soldiers gawked, but she'll feed them intel, keep the wins rolling." Peggy circled him, hands trailing his chest. "Feels strange—watching 'me' fight my war."
Alex's hand lingered on Peggy's arm a moment longer, his voice a soothing anchor amid the penthouse's quiet hum. "You don't have to worry about it for now," he said, red eyes locking onto hers with unwavering certainty. "The clone's woven into the timeline seamlessly—your war rages on through her." Peggy exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders, but Alex wasn't finished. He drew her closer, thumb brushing her jaw. "Now, Peggy—I'm placing you in cryo sleep. Your body frozen, but alive, preserved perfectly until I awaken you at the right moment. Are you willing?"
Her gaze held his, super-soldier steel unyielding. "Yes, Alex. I'm ready—do it." Alcina's golden eyes flickered with respect as the trio descended to the lab, the air chilling around the sleek cryopod—Umbrella's crown jewel, mist already coiling from its vents. In its blue glow, Alex enveloped Peggy in a crushing embrace, their kiss fierce and lingering, tongues clashing with promises unspoken. "My eternal flame," he murmured against her lips. She slipped inside with a final nod, the lid sealing as frost bloomed. "We'll meet again soon," he vowed, activating the controls. Mist surged; Peggy's form crystallized in serene slumber, vitals pulsing steady.
Turning to Alcina, Alex extended a hand, leading her back to the sunlit hall where monitors flickered with global feeds. "I'll be gone for a time," he said gravely, "but until I return, you're head of Umbrella Corporation. Develop it—expand the labs, flood markets with cures. I trust you implicitly, and your regenerative gifts mean you won't age like mortals. That's why it's you, Alcina." Her lips curved in a regal smile, posture straightening. "Don't worry, Alex. I'll follow every order to the letter." He nodded, pressing a thick file into her gloved hands. "Take good care of Peggy—check her pod daily. This contains my research: cures for cancers, viruses, plagues. Make the business prosper."
Alcina cradled the file, her throaty voice warm. "As you command... Master." Alex's chuckle rumbled low as he cupped her face, claiming her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss that left her breathless. "Get to work now," he commanded softly, pulling back. "I'll return soon—no need to search. Handle it all." She inclined her head, eyes gleaming with purpose, as he strode to his quarters. The door hissed shut; alone on the edge of the king-sized bed, Alex's voice cut the silence. "System." A crimson panel materialized.
Alex sat on the bed. The system's red panel glowed in front of him. A new notice flashed. It said he finished his task: beat Red Skull and win the war. The reward was a C-Rank template. He tapped it. White light burst out. A card appeared in the air. This was new. His first Albert Wesker template came as a free start-up. No fancy lights or cards. But this one floated right there.
He looked close. The man on the card was tall and muscular. Pale skin. Long white hair. Yellow cat-like eyes that stared hard. Scars marked his rugged face. He looked tough from many fights. Alex knew him at once. Geralt of Rivia from The Witcher. He went quiet for a second. First Wesker with red demon eyes. Now cat eyes again. Why always eye problems? He shook his head with a sigh.
Alex grabbed the card. Info rushed into his mind. He learned how to use it. Templates worked on himself. But he could also give them to others. That shocked him. He could make allies strong too. But he did not care right now. He wanted power for himself first. He tore the card in two. It broke into gold particles. They swirled fast. Then they flew into his body and vanished.
A system chime rang in Alex's head.
[Ding... Geralt of Rivia (C-Rank) Template Added.]
[Ding... Fusion Degree: 10%.]
He felt a warm pulse in his chest. Then a new message popped up.
[Ding... Host strength exceeds Geralt of Rivia. Integration accelerated.]
The numbers climbed fast.
[Ding... Fusion Degree: 20%... 30%... 70%...]
Heat spread through his body. His muscles tightened like steel cables. Power surged in his limbs. He felt stronger than ever.
A strange energy flowed inside him. It tingled like fire in his veins. Alex guessed it was mana—the magic from the Witcher world. He flexed his hands. Claws extended sharp and fast. Good. But then heat burned in his eyes. It stung bad. He blinked hard. Why the eyes again? The panel updated.
[Ding... Current Fusion Degree: 95%.]
Alex stared at the panel. Fusion hit 95%. He froze for a second. Then laughter burst out. Loud and wild. Who could guess? Instant power like this. No slow grind. Just boom—nearly full Witcher in his veins. Heat still burned, but now it felt good. Like fire forging steel.
The system chimed again.
[Ding... Host gained knowledge/skills/abilities from template: High Intelligence, Alchemy, Vast Monster Knowledge, Weapon Mastery, Master Swordsman, Master Marksman, Master Hand-to-Hand Combatant, Master Hunter, Skilled Investigator.]
Alex grinned. Brains and blade work. Perfect mix with Wesker's edge.
Next chime.
[Ding... Host awakened Witcher Physiology/Mutated Physiology: Superhuman Strength, Superhuman Agility, Superhuman Speed, Superhuman Mobility, Superhuman Senses, Superhuman Durability, Superhuman Endurance, Disease Immunity, Poison Immunity, Increased Metabolism, Longevity, Regenerative Healing Factor, Signs: Aard, Igni, Yrden, Quen, Axii, Heliotrop, Somne.]
Energy hummed deeper now. Mana ready at his call. He flexed. Muscles rippled. Eyes locked sharp.
[Ding... Similar abilities from both templates fused together.]
Wesker virus and Witcher mutations blended smooth. No waste. Pure gain.
[Ding... All template equipment stored in inventory. Host, please check.]
Notifications faded. Alex felt the new power hum inside him. Muscles coiled tight. Senses sharp as blades. He wanted to test it—throw a Sign, swing a sword. But no. Not yet. Bigger things waited. He stood and walked to the full mirror across the room.
His body stared back. Terrifying. Muscles carved from stone—not cartoon huge like Baki fighters, but real power. A battle-hardened man pumped with testosterone. Eyes shifted: deep red now flecked with yellow colour in them. Hair which were originally blond were now snow-white and longer and fell to his shoulders. He gave off predator vibes. Pure hunter. Alex froze, stunned. Then a slow smile spread. "Damn. Perfect."
"Inventory," he said. Items appeared. Cool Witcher armor—black leather, wolf medallion gleaming. Steel sword for humans. Silver sword for monsters. Medallion, potions, crossbow, bombs—all Geralt's gear. He stripped fast. Slid on the armor. Strapped swords to back. Medallion hung at chest. Looked again. A skilled hunter gazed back. Rugged. Handsome. Deadly.
He smirked at the reflection. Turned side to side. Armor fit like skin. Swords balanced perfect. Yellow-red eyes burned. White hair flowed wild. Predator ready for any world.
Alex turned from the mirror. His eyes caught the Status panel. New stats glowed. Strength, speed, senses—all maxed high. Geralt template sat at 95% in the list. Fusion almost done. Good. But Multiverse Travel pulled him now. Unlocked and ready. He focused on it. Tapped the icon.
[Ding... Does host want to use Multiverse Travel? Yes or No.]
Alex smirked. No doubt. He selected Yes. Air hummed. A black circle swirled open in front of him. Edges spun fast like a storm. The portal sucked him in—one pull, gone. All he feel was emptiness.