Harry swore this was the funniest thing that had happened since Ben had given birth to eight moth babies.
His best friend—serious, responsible, chronically anxious Peter Parker—was being confessed to by a white mouse.
"I never realized you were so popular at school," Harry whispered, elbowing Peter in the ribs. "Should I be jealous?"
"If you want Dr. Connors to introduce you to Lady Vermin's bear best friend, I'm sure that can be arranged," Peter shot back irritably.
"There's absolutely no need for that arrangement."
"Alright, children," Dr. Connors said from the medical cot where he'd been resting. "Try to be more mature about this."
He wasn't actually injured—the cryogenic assault in the sewers had simply forced his reptilian metabolism into emergency hibernation. His body temperature had dropped dangerously low, triggering a self-preservation response that mimicked death.
Now, after several hours in a warm room, he was fully conscious again.
"First," Connors said, sitting up carefully, "welcome to the team, Lady Vermin."
He'd always been generous about past conflicts. People could change. Circumstances could shift. If she was genuinely defecting, he'd give her the benefit of doubt.
Lady Vermin clung to Spider-Man's leg—literally wrapped around his calf like a tiny, affectionate pet—and smiled at the assembled heroes.
Most of the room seemed willing to accept her. The Guardians looked confused but not hostile. Flash and Harry were amused. Star-Lord was trying not to laugh.
But the Green Goblin, Vulture, and young Shayne—the Counter-Earth natives who'd lived under beastman oppression—watched her with barely concealed suspicion.
"Naoko," Connors said, addressing their host, "you mentioned Otto and the others went to Wundagore Castle?"
"Yes." Naoko hugged Shayne protectively, the boy pressed against her side. "After Karen's team brought you here, they said they had urgent business. Something about ending the war. I sent Mantis with them."
At the name, every Guardian snapped to attention.
"Mantis?" Star-Lord said urgently. "She's with them?"
"The empath woman with antennae?" Drax asked. "She was here?"
"She left with the orange-haired woman and the man with mechanical arms," Naoko confirmed.
The Guardians relaxed visibly.
"That's good," Drax said with evident relief. "Mantis is too trusting. I worried she'd be deceived by someone malicious."
Everyone wanted to point out the irony—Drax himself was arguably the most gullible person in the room—but arguing with him was pointless. He'd just drag you down to his level of understanding and beat you with experience.
"It's been hours since they left," Connors said gravely. "But the diffusion device hasn't activated. We should assume the mission encountered complications."
Peter nodded. "The doctor's right. The High Evolutionary's power is terrifying. Even Gravattack's gravity manipulation—which can create localized black holes—was crushed by his psychic force field. And he's definitely grown stronger since absorbing more alien genetics."
"Wait." Harry suddenly grabbed the communicator from his belt. "Incoming transmission from Flash."
He pressed the receive button. Agent Venom's voice crackled through, distorted by interference.
"—King has joined—Brumley and Kit—tower—Otto engaging—"
Static consumed most of the message, but Harry caught the critical points.
"Lord Tyger defected to our side," Harry announced, holstering the communicator. "Brumley and Kit are activating the diffusion device. Otto, Mantis, and Lord Tyger are engaging the High Evolutionary directly."
He looked around the room. "We need to support them. Now."
"It's too late," the Green Goblin said, his voice carrying that distinctive raspy quality—half human, half monster.
He gestured toward the window with one clawed wing. Everyone turned to look.
In the distance—maybe three or four kilometers away—Wundagore Castle dominated the skyline. And at its highest point, flames suddenly erupted. Not the controlled glow of normal lighting, but massive conflagration billowing into the night sky.
Thick smoke rose like a signal flare.
"The battle has begun," the Green Goblin whispered.
At the tower's peak, wind howled with savage intensity.
Brumley and Kit fought their way through the castle's defenses—beastman soldiers, automated turrets, security drones—before finally reaching the communications array at the summit.
A poison disc sailed through the air with surgical precision. The last beastman guard collapsed, convulsing, foam bubbling from his mouth as the neurotoxin overwhelmed his nervous system.
Brumley showed no mercy. These creatures had enslaved humanity for decades. His own brother had become their willing collaborator.
When he'd encountered Delwald for the second time—guarding a checkpoint inside the castle—Brumley had knocked him unconscious without hesitation.
"Those were the last weapons," Brumley said, breathing hard. His face was haggard with exhaustion, clothes torn, blood seeping from a dozen minor wounds.
The Plumber equipment Otto had provided—energy weapons, force field generators, EMP grenades—was all expended. Without those tools, he and Kit would never have survived the climb.
Now they just needed to install the diffusion device, and their mission would be complete.
"Hopefully they rescued Karen," Brumley muttered, moving toward the massive lightning rod that served as the castle's primary transmission antenna.
Then the floor beneath them exploded.
The shockwave threw both men sideways. Kit rolled, barely catching himself before tumbling over the edge. Brumley slammed into the communications equipment, stars dancing across his vision.
Thick, acrid smoke billowed up from below—from deep within the castle's laboratory levels.
Kit crawled to the tower's edge and looked down. His bandage-wrapped hands gripped the stone parapet. He wanted to ask if Otto and the others were okay, but Kit still couldn't speak. The trauma ran too deep.
"Instead of worrying about them," a deep voice said from behind them, "worry about yourselves."
Both men spun around.
A figure stood silhouetted against the flames—tall, powerfully built, covered in what appeared to be primitive tribal clothing decorated with exotic feathers and animal pelts. His face was weathered, scarred, bearing the marks of someone who'd survived a thousand battles.
"I'm just a hunter," the man said, studying them like a predator evaluating prey. His accent was thick, vaguely Eastern European. "The High Evolutionary pays well for rebel heads."
He drew a massive combat knife—the blade gleamed white in the firelight, clearly no ordinary steel.
"Kraven the Hunter, at your service."
He crouched low, body language shifting into something distinctly inhuman. Like a lion preparing to pounce.
Brumley and Kit tensed, recognizing the threat immediately.
WHOOSH.
Kraven launched forward with explosive speed. His dagger swept through the air in a gleaming arc, severing a thick metal support beam in a single stroke.
The cut was perfect—no sawing, no resistance, just instant separation. Whatever that blade was made of, it could cut through anything.
Brumley and Kit dove in opposite directions. The severed beam crashed where they'd been standing, sparks flying as it struck stone.
"What kind of blade is that?!" Brumley gasped.
"And those movements..." Kit's bandages fluttered as he rolled to his feet. Enhanced speed. Enhanced strength. Definitely superhuman.
Brumley felt rage kindle beneath his fear. "With abilities like that, you work for the High Evolutionary?! You're a traitor to humanity!"
"Mistake," Kraven said, shaking his head. A predatory smile spread across his scarred face. "I work for money. Whoever pays highest, I kill for them."
He licked the blade, savoring some invisible taste. "Rebel heads are worth considerable bounty."
Kit's bandages began unwrapping from his arms—the invisible boy preparing to leverage his one advantage. Brumley gripped his last functional weapon—a Plumber-issue energy baton with maybe three charges remaining.
"We can't waste the opportunity Otto created," Brumley said through gritted teeth. "We install that device or die trying."
Kraven laughed—a sound like rocks grinding together.
"Then die trying."
He attacked.
Several minutes earlier, deep within the High Evolutionary's private laboratory.
Karen was strapped to an examination table, restraints binding her wrists, ankles, and throat. Medical equipment surrounded her—scanners, injectors, genetic sequencers, all humming with readiness.
The High Evolutionary stood over her, studying readouts with barely contained excitement.
"Remarkable," he breathed. "The modifications I performed decades ago haven't degraded. Your genetic structure remains perfectly plastic—capable of integrating DNA from any species without rejection."
He turned to her, eyes shining with scientific fervor. "Do you understand what this means, Karen? You possess what I've been seeking for fifty years. The ability to transcend biological limitations completely."
Karen said nothing. She just stared at him with pure hatred.
She hadn't known about her origins before Otto's team was captured. Hadn't known she was this monster's granddaughter, that her genes had been tampered with as an infant.
Now that she knew, she felt no pride in the connection. Only shame.
"High Evolutionary," she said, voice steady despite her terror, "remember this. No matter what you do to my body. No matter what kind of monster you transform me into. You'll never get what you want."
Her eyes burned with defiance. "Because I will never be your slave. I am a human being. Not a tool for your experiments."
The High Evolutionary didn't react with anger. Instead, he smiled—patient, almost indulgent.
"Child, I don't blame you for such thoughts. Your human nature prevents rational thinking. Emotion clouds judgment. Sentiment creates weakness."
He prepared the first injector, loading it with something that glowed faintly purple. "But once you transcend this wretched species, your mind will finally see truth. You'll understand what I've been trying to teach this planet."