As Peter and Lady Vermin arrived, the rest of the team converged rapidly. Within moments, the corridor outside the High Evolutionary's laboratory was packed with heroes—a full assault force surrounding their target.
"You're exhausted," Mantis whispered, hands pressed to the High Evolutionary's temples. Her antennae glowed brighter, psychic energy flowing like visible light. "Your body is tired. Your mind is weary. Sleep now. Just... sleep..."
She constructed mental landscapes—comfortable beds, peaceful darkness, the sensation of sinking into deep rest. Hypnotic suggestions layered over traumatic memories.
But maintaining the illusion drained her rapidly.
Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the freezing temperature. Her breathing grew labored. The carefully crafted mental prison showed cracks—details blurring, emotions bleeding through, the High Evolutionary's consciousness pushing back against her control.
Only fifteen seconds had passed since initial contact.
"His mind is so strong!" Mantis gasped, voice strained. "I can't hold him much longer!"
"That's enough time," Peter said. "John—go!"
John burst into the laboratory in his Blitzwolfer form—massive werewolf bristling with electrical fur. Karen lay strapped to the examination table, skin flushed, veins glowing faintly as alien genetics integrated into her cells.
He tore through the restraints with razor claws, lifting her carefully. "I've got you."
Karen's eyes fluttered. "The others...?"
"Fighting for you," John said, carrying her toward safety.
Otto scanned the assembled team, noting absences. "Where are the Green Goblin and Vulture?"
"Helping Brumley," Flash replied.
At the castle's peak, wind screamed through the communications array.
The Green Goblin and Vulture descended like hunting raptors, attacking from opposite angles.
Kraven spun, dagger flashing—but fighting aerial opponents fundamentally differed from ground combat. He could block one attacker, but not both simultaneously.
The Vulture's talons raked across Kraven's back. The Green Goblin's clawed wings slashed his weapon arm.
Blood sprayed. Kraven stumbled.
In their original timeline, these men had been villains. But on Counter-Earth, circumstances diverged. The Green Goblin and Vulture had chosen different paths.
Only Kraven remained unchanged—still a mercenary, still killing for money.
The Vulture seized Kraven's shoulders, wings beating powerfully, lifting them both skyward.
"What—what are you doing?!" Kraven struggled as the castle shrank beneath them.
Higher. Higher. Through the cloud layer.
Buildings became toys. The city became a map. Altitude counter climbing: one thousand meters. Two thousand. Three thousand.
"You're human!" the Vulture snarled, voice shaking with rage and self-loathing. "But you work for beastmen! You hunt your own kind for profit!"
His grip tightened. "You despicable bastard!"
Am I cursing him, the Vulture thought bitterly, or myself?
"Wait!" Kraven's bravado shattered completely. "I'm sorry! Please! I'll give you everything—all my money! Just let me go!"
"Take your blood money," the Vulture said quietly, "and carry it to hell."
He released his grip.
Kraven plummeted, arms windmilling uselessly. His scream dopplered down through the clouds, fading until it cut off abruptly.
The Vulture descended more slowly, wings trembling—from exertion or emotion, he couldn't say.
At the tower's peak, Brumley had finished installing the diffusion device. Complex machinery surrounded the lightning rod, covered in tubes, chemical reservoirs, atmospheric ionizers.
"Fair warning," Brumley said, addressing the Green Goblin and Vulture as they landed. "Once activated, most beastmen will begin reverting to animal form. The transformation is temporary but debilitating."
He gestured to himself. "We'll also be affected. Our mutations will disappear."
The Green Goblin's eyes—still monstrous, still wrong—seemed to shimmer with moisture. "I can't wait to be myself again."
"Will it affect the High Evolutionary?" the Vulture asked. "If this weakens him, all our problems are solved."
"Unlikely," Brumley said, recalling Dr. Connors's explanation. "This serum specifically targets the genetic modifications used on first-generation beastmen. Before the High Evolutionary obtained Peter's wireless receiver."
He activated a holographic display showing molecular structures. "Once he analyzed alien DNA, he advanced far beyond this formula. The reversion agent won't touch him."
"So we're weakening ourselves?" The Vulture sounded incredulous.
"We're weakening tens of thousands of beastman soldiers," Brumley corrected. "When the final battle starts, those forces would overwhelm us through pure numbers. Each beastman possesses superhuman strength humans can't match."
He pointed toward the distant city. "This levels the field."
"Then how do we defeat the High Evolutionary?"
"Spider-Man and the Plumbers." Brumley's voice carried frustration and acceptance. "No one else can."
He turned to Kit and the others. "Ready?"
Kit nodded, bandaged hands gripping the activation lever.
"Do it!"
BOOM.
Brumley slammed the button. Green light erupted skyward—a pillar of luminescence connecting earth to atmosphere.
Overhead, clouds condensed from nothing. Massive storm formations churned into existence, spreading across New Wundagore like spilled ink. The entire city darkened beneath roiling green-tinged vapor.
Lightning flickered within the clouds—not natural yellow-white, but emerald green.
On the streets below, beastmen paused their activities, staring upward in confusion.
"Weird weather," a wolf-headed guard muttered. "Wasn't supposed to rain today."
Then the downpour began.
Green-tinted rain hammered down, soaking everything instantly. Beastmen caught in the deluge stumbled, eyes glazing over. Some fell to all fours, spines contorting, vocalizations shifting from words to bestial sounds.
A lion-maned soldier collapsed, body shrinking. His uniform hung loose as his frame reduced to natural feline proportions. Consciousness faded from his eyes, replaced by animal instinct.
Even beastmen who avoided direct rainfall felt effects—airborne particulates entered their lungs, the formula seeping through skin contact with humid air. Strength drained. Thoughts became sluggish, difficult to maintain.
"Attention all resistance cells," Brumley transmitted via stolen communicator. "The reversion agent is active."
He stood in the downpour, soaked immediately. Beside him, the Green Goblin, Vulture, and Kit—all transformed by Sir Ram's experiments—began changing.
The Green Goblin's leathery wings dissolved first, membrane disintegrating into ash that washed away. His scaled skin softened, green pigmentation fading to normal human tones. Claws retracted. Fangs shortened.
He stared at his hands—human hands—and a sob escaped. "Finally... I'm finally not a monster anymore!"
Tears mixed with rain. "I can go home. I can see Naoko and Shayne again!"
"Kit!" Brumley grabbed the boy's shoulders. "Your skin's coming back!"
Beneath the dissolving bandages, normal flesh appeared. The invisible boy—forced to wrap himself in fabric to be seen—was becoming visible naturally.
"The same reversion serum," Brumley realized. "Sir Ram used the same baseline formula for all his experiments."
He pulled both men into an embrace. "You're not monsters anymore. From today, there are no more monsters on Counter-Earth!"
"As long as we defeat the High Evolutionary," the Vulture—now fully human, wings gone—said quietly.
Across the city, in an industrial district shadowed by factory smokestacks, Sir Ram stumbled against a wall.
"What's happening?" His brilliant mind felt sluggish, clouded. Calculations that should be instant required conscious effort. "This rain... my strength is fading..."
"That's the reversion serum," Mad Ben said, crouched in shadows nearby. He seemed unaffected—his Omnitrix already removed and broken. "Spider-Man's friend invented it. You should transform quickly, or I'll just have a talking ram for an accomplice."
Sir Ram snarled. "I was planning to find a test subject first! Perfect this formula! This is too soon!"
But the weakness was intensifying. His enhanced Humungousaur strength was draining. Heatblast pyrokinesis flickering inconsistently. Four Arms combat reflexes dulling.
"No choice," he muttered, drawing the injector from his coat.
Inside: synthesized genetic serum, created by High Evolutionary from the wireless receiver's encoded DNA. Dozens of alien templates compressed into injectable form.
He pressed it against his neck and triggered the mechanism.
The serum flooded his bloodstream, and Sir Ram screamed as his body began rewriting itself at the fundamental level.
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