Some people panic when they hear voices in their heads.
Not Nathan.
Right now, he wished he could hear one.
But the silence was absolute.
Raphael—his ever-present, ever-precise companion—had vanished the moment the Mark of Cain was burned into his skin.
It had been two weeks since he woke up in that tank, two weeks of reaching inward with everything he had. Meditating, syncing with the H-Omnitrix, calling out in frustration, desperation… nothing. No dry observations. No smart corrections. No subtle snark disguised as logic. Just emptiness.
Raphael was gone.
And Nathan wasn't sure if she was silent… or simply not there anymore.
She'd been with him from the very beginning, since the day he landed in this chaotic fusion of worlds. Sure, she could be rigid and cold—more code than person—but over time, he'd seen her shift. Change. Grow.
She knew she could develop an ego, so she did. He'd found that funny at the time.
Now, without her, the Mark's influence weighed heavier. His thoughts came slower, like trudging through wet sand. The grief he'd tried so hard to ignore became fertile ground for darker emotions. Anxiety. Rage. A strange, gnawing emptiness.
And still… no voice to help pull him back.
Thankfully, before things spiraled completely, he'd found something in the Shop. Cheap, odd… but effective.
> [Plushie of Pleasure]
Sleeping with this plushie stabilizes your mind and ensures a peaceful night's rest.
Price: A local delicacy
He still wasn't sure how a stuffed rabbit wearing sunglasses could do that, but the thing worked. It was the only reason he was getting any sleep at all.
As for his body…
That was a different problem.
Ever since the Mark fused with the H-Omnitrix, his transformations had started glitching. Random shifts at random times—painful, destabilizing. So he did what any panicked, overpowered semi-scientist would do: he turned into Brainiac and designed a failsafe.
Now a sleek silver band clamped over the Omnitrix interface, hard-locking it. As long as he kept it on, the device couldn't activate—not unless he removed the seal manually.
No transformations. No surprises.
Of course, that also meant no backup if things went south. But better powerless than randomly turning into Cyborg during dinner.
Still… the damage had been done.
Some forms were corrupted beyond recognition.
Speed-O'-Sound Sonic — gone. Not erased, but twisted so badly the Omnitrix could no longer identify it as usable.
Deadman — no longer a phase-shifting specter. Now it was a black swarm of writhing humanoid masses, twitching like a hive of dying souls. Barely under control.
Others had mutated, not broken.
Endeavor now wielded dark flames that burned far hotter than his original blue fire—scorching, unstable, but powerful.
Homelander's laser vision had morphed into a concentrated stream of "dark lessers"—energy bolts that didn't just burn through objects, but melted reality in bursts.
Then there were the unknowns.
Like Hulk.
He hadn't dared touch that one. Not without Raphael. The last thing he needed was a rage-monster powered by the Mark of Cain and no voice in his head to keep him from tearing reality in half.
And then there was the new transformation—an unlock that should've been a triumph. But something about it was… off. It glitched every time he tried to access it. Data scrambled. Form unstable. No name, no stats, just a corrupted placeholder where a legend should have been.
"Status" he muttered under his breath, activating the Status Screen.
{Subject: Nathan Winterson (Self)}
Race: Human (S-693-H18)
Origin: 4W-0001
Health: Degrading
Condition:
[Negative Emotional Overlord - III]
[Depression - II]
[Genetic Anchor Disturbance - II]
Blessings:
[Blessing of A##isiy# (Em##e#s #f ##si#e# – Omniversal Elder Goddess) - T-?]
[Minor Blessing of Neith (Great Weaver of the Web of Life and Destiny – Multiversal Goddess) - T-11]
[Blessing of Athena (Skymother of Olympus – Greek Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare) - T-3]
Curses:
[Mark of Amara (Goddess of Darkness - Chaos Avatar of the In-betweener) - T-7]
[Curse of Yahweh (God of Light - Order Avatar of the In-betweener) - T-7]
[Glare of Demiurge (The First of Skyfather - Multiversal God) - T-4]
[Wrath of Zeus (Greek God of Thunder and Sky) - T-3]
Special Abilities:
[Ultimate Skill Raphael – Lord of Wisdom (Disconnected)]
[Order Dragon's Breathing Style – (3/7%)]
[Status Screen]
[Mana Spring]
Equipment:
[H-Omnitrix]
[Master Key]
[Space Ring]
[Traveller's Bag]
Average Human Comparison:
Strength: A+
Endurance: SS+
Reflexes: EX++
Dexterity: A+
Intelligence: A+
Wisdom: A
Mana: C
Stamina: SS+
Willpower: S+
Charisma: S- ~ T
Power Level:
> Street Level
Street Level – Low Multiversal Level (With H-Omnitrix)
Details:
Nathan Winterson is a native of Reality Cluster 4W-0001, currently residing in Reality Cluster O1W-7725. … }
This meant there was a good chance Raphael wasn't completely gone. But Nathan couldn't be sure—and that uncertainty was eating him alive. Still, one thing was clear: the Mark needed to go. Even if it meant becoming the villain in someone else's story. Even if releasing what was sealed inside meant unleashing a being once imprisoned for nearly destroying creation.
He was willing to bear that sin.
Because if he didn't...
—
Elsewhere—not too far from Nathan's home—an underground meeting room buzzed with tension.
The room was shielded, reinforced, and filled with enough authority to make most world leaders flinch. Around the table sat:
Max Tennyson, seasoned Plumber and protector of Earth.
Tony Stark, the man in the metal suit with too many contingency plans.
Captain Jack Harkness, time traveler and walking wildcard.
Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., ever-watching, ever-paranoid.
Kate Stewart, representing UNIT and the British defense grid.
General Ross, old-school military and never far from talk of war.
They weren't so much discussing as arguing—a storm of clashing philosophies masked as strategy.
Earth's first public alien invasion had shaken the planet. And now, Max had dropped another bombshell: the Hybrids were coming. And it wasn't a fight they could win... only survive.
Tensions exploded.
Max Tennyson slammed a palm on the table. "The DNAliens can be cured. I've seen it with my own eyes. I won't stand by while we wipe out a part of the population that can still be saved."
General Ross leaned forward, gruff and unwavering. "It's not about callousness, Max. It's war. Sometimes you choose between saving some lives... or watching all of them burn."
Kate Stewart adjusted her jacket, cool but firm. "With all due respect, I agree with the General. If we divert everything to recovery efforts, the Hybrid advance might steamroll us before we're ready."
Tony Stark, lounging but razor-sharp, raised a hand. "I'm not a general—and thank God for that—but if you 'win' a war by butchering civilians, that's not a win. That's a tragedy with better branding."
Nick Fury cut in, voice low and heavy. "You're all missing the point. This isn't about tactics. This is survival. We're already behind, and no one's coming to save us."
Captain Jack Harkness stood up, smiling like a man used to chaos. "Alright, kids. Before this turns into a shouting match over whose apocalypse strategy is more noble, I've got a suggestion."
He gestured to Max and Tony. "Stark, you team up with Tennyson's grandson. He's already reversed the transformation once. See if it's scalable. Mass-curing the DNAliens is Plan A."
Turning to Ross, he added, "General, might be time to pull those dusty alien weapons you've been hoarding. Upgrade your arsenal before you charge into battle."
Then he looked to Max. "And you? You and I are going to find someone who's been good at keeping the peace... even in the middle of wars."
General Ross grumbled. "You don't have the authority to assign roles here."
Tony Stark didn't even look up from his holographic wrist display. "None of us do, Grandpa. But at least we're not whining about it."
Silence.
The war hadn't started yet.
But it was already costing them.
Stark Tower, Sublevel 7 — Tech Lab
The room hummed with the sound of arc reactors and Stark-brand coffee dispensers. Screens lined the walls, each flashing genetic profiles and molecular breakdowns of DNAlien structures. In the center stood Ben Tennyson, arms crossed, beside a younger alien wearing a high-tech visor and a look of focused determination.
Tony Stark strolled in, holographic interface already forming around his fingers. "Alright, Benji. Heard you've got a miracle cure cooked up in a basement somewhere."
Ben chuckled. "Not a basement. Copper here's been using my Omnitrix's data as a reference. He's the real brain on this."
Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at the alien beside him. Copper blinked once, then offered an awkward wave. "Uh, hi. I'm Copper… Technomancer class, third-tier. I specialize in systems-based energy manipulation and cross-genetic wave harmonics. Also, uh—big fan of your arc reactor tech."
Tony tilted his head, intrigued. "Cute. And here I thought Reed Richards was the only one who could talk like that and still get people to listen."
Copper scratched the back of his head, looking sideways at Ben. "Sorry—I kinda zone out when it's not about tech."
Ben smiled. "Just show him the projection."
Copper nodded and tapped a panel on his bracer. A 3D model spun into existence above the table. It displayed a mutated human cell corrupted by alien DNA. Then a waveform—a familiar green pulse reminiscent of the Omnitrix—interacted with it. The corrupted DNA unraveled, folding back into its original human genome.
"This is based on the Omnitrix's reversion protocols," Copper explained. "The Omnitrix doesn't just transform—it stores the full genetic blueprint of the user. When Ben cures a DNAlien, it reverts their DNA using the stored human data as a template."
Tony leaned in, eyes narrowing. "You reverse engineered this from a piece of tech that's borderline divine in complexity?"
"Well, I—I didn't really understand it. I just copied the principles. Enough to get a stable cure frequency."
Ben stepped in. "We tested it on one of the captured DNAlien cocoons. It worked."
Tony whistled. "Okay, color me impressed. And what—your plan is to hit every infected area with this frequency?"
Copper hesitated. "It would take weeks to set up that many ground emitters. But I had a concept—"
Tony raised a hand. "Say no more. Satellite beam."
He snapped his fingers and brought up a projection of Earth with orbital paths overlaid. "You give me the specs, I'll slap together a platform in orbit. No alien tech required. We'll just bounce the cure pulse from above."
"Y-You can actually do that?"
Tony grinned. "Kid, if I can build a reactor in a cave, I can turn your science fair into a global immunization system."
Copper blinked, unsure whether to be flattered or offended.
Ben smirked. "Told you he'd get it."
Tony turned to a nearby terminal and began pulling up manufacturing schematics. "I'll also make a few handhelds—non-lethal, targeted cure-beam rifles. Just in case any of those things get too rowdy before we flip the switch."
Copper's eyes lit up. "Can I help design the output stabilizer for the beam array?"
Tony glanced at him, then tossed a datapad into his hands. "Pull your weight, Techno-Gandalf."
As they began working, Ben leaned against the wall, arms crossed, finally feeling like the tide was turning.
And for the first time in weeks, hope didn't seem so far off.
Galvan Prime – Outer Atmosphere, Observation Platform
The skies above Galvan Prime had turned a bruised crimson, painted by the slowly looming shadow of the Hybrid Planet Killer. A behemoth in motion, the ship spanned the horizon, its jagged armor humming with barely restrained power. Its central cannon, a massive red lens, pulsed ominously as it charged—each vibration like the drumbeat of impending extinction.
Azmuth stood at the edge of the observation platform, his aged eyes reflecting the glow of the enemy's weapon. Despite everything, his hands were still. His breathing calm.
Behind him, a portal shimmered open.
"Oh, what a sight," said Professor Paradox, stepping through with his ever-present umbrella and smile. "Nothing says 'grand finale' quite like a world-ending laser beam aimed at your lab."
Azmuth didn't turn. "It's done?"
Paradox nodded. "Every last Galvan relocated to Dimension R-13. Even the grumpy ones."
Azmuth exhaled slowly, his voice tinged with faint regret. "So much history. Knowledge… left behind."
Paradox gave a little shrug. "Yes, well, history's rather like tea leaves. Difficult to read when they've been atomized. Probably for the best."
The ground trembled slightly beneath them. A low hum intensified as the weapon reached critical charge.
"I sometimes wonder," Paradox mused aloud, walking slowly to stand beside the Galvan. "What your species might have become if it had pursued weapons development instead of science. Perhaps there would be no Omnitrix… but there might also be no Hybrid problem at all."
Azmuth's gaze didn't waver from the sky. "You already know how that would've ended."
Paradox smiled faintly. "Oh yes. Fire and ruin. Your people would've become tyrants… and you wouldn't be you."
Silence stretched between them as the red lens flared brighter—charging its final blow.
Azmuth finally turned. "I would rather lose this place… than become the thing we fought so long to prevent."
Paradox looked at him approvingly. "Spoken like a true pacifist with a bomb aimed at his house."
The hybrid cannon screamed as it prepared to fire.
Azmuth raised his hand. A portal opened, lined with Galvan tech, glowing faint blue.
Paradox grinned and tipped his hat. "Well, shall we?"
The two vanished into the shimmer just as the red beam ignited—cutting through the sky like divine retribution.
Galvan Prime was engulfed in light.