Just as Ben was preparing for Operation DNA-DeAlienization, he hopped into Kevin's sleek, jet-black muscle car. The plan was to head to Nathan's house and pick up both him and Gwen before the real work began.
Kevin had just pulled out onto the street when, without warning, both back seats lit up in a soft blue glow. A moment later, a mouse-sized alien and a man in a longcoat and top hat materialized—one perched neatly on the leather, the other somehow standing as if time itself made room for him.
Kevin jerked the wheel. "Are you trying to kill us?!"
"If I were, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Professor Paradox replied with his usual casual charm.
Kevin scowled. "Still! You don't just teleport into a moving car. You nearly made me crash."
"I didn't," Paradox said simply.
"You don't know that!"
"I do, actually."
"Stop doing that!"
Ben chuckled, glancing back at the two new arrivals. "Hey, Azmuth. Professor. I didn't know you two knew each other."
Azmuth—perched stiffly on the leather like a dignified mouse monarch—gave a slight nod. "Benjamin Tennyson, I'm here to stop you from participating in the Hybrid War."
Ben raised a brow. "What? Why?!"
"Because you're not ready—"
"Access Master Control," Azmuth said crisply, ignoring Ben's protests. The Omnitrix flashed green.
"Master Control Unlocked," the Omnitrix intoned in its calm, mechanical voice.
Ben blinked in disbelief. "Wait. You unlocked everything? How many aliens are we talking?"
"Six million, nine hundred and three genetic samples available," the Omnitrix confirmed.
Kevin slowed the car to a stop outside Nathan's house. "Sorry to interrupt your little bonding," he said, putting the car in park. "We're here."
Azmuth studied the house with interest. "Hmm. I must admit, I'm curious to meet the wielder of an Omnitrix I didn't design."
Ben turned, confused. "Wait. You didn't make his?"
"Indeed not," Azmuth said. "His device has… features I've never implemented. Transformations that seem to originate from far beyond..."
Paradox smiled cryptically. "Yes… I suspect it comes from elsewhere. Somewhere outside."
—
Inside, Nathan and Gwen sat in a dimly lit room. The heavy silence between them wasn't hostile—it was the kind of silence that carried weight. Unspoken emotions hung in the air like thick humidity.
Gwen's eyes were downcast. Guilt had etched itself into her posture. She hadn't stopped blaming herself since that day. The Mark of Cain, the corruption, it all tied back to that mission. The one she insisted on.
Nathan, meanwhile, leaned back with an unreadable expression. Despite everything, the Mark didn't bother him much anymore. His Order Dragon Breathing Style suppressed most of its negative effects. What he truly missed… was Raphael. Her presence had been constant. Comforting. Robotic, yes, but real. Now, it was like half his mind had gone quiet.
Still, he didn't blame Gwen. Not for a second. He'd made the choice to follow her into that battle. He couldn't—wouldn't—let her carry that weight alone.
Then came the knock.
Ben didn't wait for a full response before entering, the ever-eager hero energy radiating from him like a spotlight. The heavy atmosphere fractured like glass.
Azmuth, balanced on Ben's shoulder, immediately fixated on the H-Omnitrix.
"Well, someone's been very rough with their tech," he muttered.
From a compartment on the back of his hand, Azmuth produced a strange device that shimmered into being—half-screen, half-wireframe lattice. With a few precise clicks, it linked directly to the H-Omnitrix on Nathan's wrist.
"Uh, question," Nathan said, raising a brow. "You're not gonna accidentally unleash the seal on the Mark or something, are you?"
Azmuth didn't even glance up. "Even if this was made by another version of me, I still understand the fundamentals. Don't insult me."
Nathan shrugged. "Hey, just checking."
As Azmuth worked, lines of code and diagnostic data flickered in the air.
"…Tch. The damage is even worse than I anticipated," Azmuth muttered. "If this device wasn't already bonded to your DNA, I'd have taken it back for criminal negligence."
Nathan winced. "Okay, ouch. But can you fix it?"
"I've done what I can," Azmuth said, clicking through more panels. "I've stabilized the corruption so it won't spread to any new transformations. I've also unlocked the DNA Repair protocols—you need them more than anyone. Lastly, I've purged the most heavily corrupted forms. They were doing more harm than good."
Nathan's face tensed slightly, thinking about Speed-o'-Sound Sonic, he wasn't upset about but Deadman…
"For now," Azmuth continued, "I recommend you rely on transformations synced through Ben's Omnitrix. Those samples exist outside your corrupted system."
Paradox observed silently, his eyes not on the device, but on Nathan himself. A faint smile tugged at the edge of his lips—knowing, curious, and more than a little concerned.
"Now then," Professor Paradox said, adjusting his cuffs with casual flair, "I'd like to speak with Nathan alone for a moment. As for your mission—he won't be joining you."
Before anyone could protest, he placed a hand on Nathan's shoulder—and in a burst of swirling blue light, the two of them vanished.
"What was that about?" Gwen asked, brows furrowed.
The world snapped sideways.
One second, Nathan was in his living room. The next, a windblasted sun seared his skin and sand crunched under his shoes. They stood in the middle of a vast desert—bleached yellow dunes stretching to the horizon, the air shimmering with heat.
Nathan's eyes widened as he looked around. The dry wind stirred memories he'd buried deep—ones he didn't like revisiting.
"This… this is where I first woke up," he muttered, voice low. "Aqaba. The edge of the Red Sea."
His stomach twisted. The air smelled the same. Too dry. Too real.
Paradox stood beside him, unfazed by the heat, calmly adjusting the cuffs of his coat like they were in a café. "Yes, I thought the familiarity might ground you."
Nathan turned on him. "You think I need grounding? Why the hell are we here?"
"I wanted privacy," Paradox replied, tone gentler than before. "And time."
Nathan scowled. "You have all the time in the universe. I don't. So talk."
Paradox looked out toward the endless sand, his voice quieter now. "There are many… powerful entities watching you. They've taken interest. For now, something—someone—is keeping them at bay. But that won't last."
Nathan's patience snapped. "What is it with all of you being cryptic? Watching me? Whispering half-truths? Just tell me who they are!"
His voice echoed across the dunes.
Then he added, almost without thinking, voice tinged with frustration:
"What is it? The Watchers? Celestials? Abstracts? Beyonders? Or what, even the Big Guy is watching now?"
Paradox paused, eyes sharp. "Careful, Nathan. You're getting good at this."
Nathan blinked, realizing he'd just outed how much he knew.
Paradox didn't press him. Instead, he nodded slightly. "To answer your question… I can confirm most of them. Though I don't quite know what you mean by Beyonders. As for the One Above All—well, I try not to presume anything where he's concerned."
Nathan was quiet for a second, thrown off by the directness.
"But I'm not talking about them," Paradox continued, his tone hardening. "I mean darker things. Old names. Chthon. Dormammu. Annihilus. Mephisto. Predators of instability. And your presence, Nathan, your very arrival… shook the walls of reality hard enough to wake them."
He let the silence hang.
Nathan frowned, but his voice had lost its bite. "Why tell me this?"
Paradox turned to him fully now. "Because I know you. You're the kind who'll walk into fire if someone else is burning. You'll try to save everyone. And I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to remind you—these fires don't die easy. And not all of them come from Hell."
Nathan didn't respond, eyes down on the sand.
Paradox gave him a moment, then pulled a spherical, holographic device from inside his coat. A swirling map of energy—almost like a storm of timelines—sprang to life.
"Now, onto the reason I really brought you here: the Hybrids."
Nathan's head snapped up. "What about them?"
"They've accessed Temporal Precognition," Paradox explained, pointing to strands of glowing light on the map. "Fragments of the Time Vortex. That's how they've become so advanced—militarily, technologically. They're predicting the future."
Nathan squinted at the diagram. "So what—you want me to shut it down?"
"Precisely. But you won't be alone." Paradox smiled. "There's someone who can help you. A specialist."
A deep, mechanical VWORP... VWORP... tore through the quiet desert.
Nathan turned sharply.
A blue police box was materializing in the sand right in front of them. Faint light leaked from its windows. Dust curled around its base as it solidified with a final clang.
"You've got to be kidding me," Nathan muttered.
Paradox only chuckled, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Time rarely jokes, Nathan. Now, meet your next partner."
Los Soledad
The desert heat didn't matter. Not when the sky split open with thunder and tech. Above, gleaming silver satellites adjusted their angle. Stark-tech shimmered as it refracted the sun.
From orbit, a pulse of light slammed down like judgment.
The beam that fired wasn't loud—it was eerie in its quiet precision. A soft, cyan radiance bathed the battlefield in a holy glow. For six seconds, it scoured the ground, slicing through the chaos with calm finality.
DNAliens caught in its wash dropped like puppets with their strings cut. Muscles twisted, bones cracked back into human configuration. Skin once warped by alien symbiosis peeled like wet paper. They collapsed, unconscious—but free.
Around the periphery, chaos reigned. This was no focused strike team—it was Earth throwing every card it had onto the table. SHIELD agents barked orders through earpieces. Torchwood's jeeps kicked up sand as they flanked around wreckage. UNIT dropped in from helicopters with stun rifles and makeshift Anti-DNA blasters. One Torchwood agent—her scarf whipping in the wind, eyes burning with streetwise firepower—hurled a van like it was scrap. Jessica Jones, now under the British flag of weirdness and secrets, didn't need to say a word. Her strength was plenty.
The satellite beam ended. The real fight began.
The first Highbreed landed with the force of a car crash. Its white flesh gleamed like steel. Its wings snapped open, its claws already dripping. Twelve more descended from above.
A line of soldiers opened fire.
The bullets bounced off.
"Fall back! We need heavier ordnance!" a SHIELD commander shouted.
Too late. The Highbreed lunged.
Three soldiers screamed before a streak of red and blue intercepted the creature. Captain America's shield slammed into its head. It barely flinched. Natasha Romanoff slid in with twin batons, electricity crackling across her blades.
Even together, they were losing.
The Iron Legion descended next, repulsors blazing. Robots swarmed the battlefield—sleek and tactical—but they were torn apart like toys. One Highbreed crushed a Legionnaire's core with a single claw, sending the rest into retreat protocols.
Then thunder cracked.
The Hulk landed.
The earth trembled beneath him as green muscle met Highbreed fury. The first punch broke the sound barrier. The Highbreed's ribcage imploded with a sickening crunch. The second was used to grab another by the ankle and swing it like a flail into three more.
"RAAAAAAHH!" Hulk bellowed, eyes glowing with focused rage.
Tony Stark dropped in behind him in the Hulkbuster.
"Big guy gets first swing," he said into the comms. "I'll mop up."
His suit surged forward, red fists slamming into another Highbreed like a jackhammer. The creature roared, claws skidding off his reinforced plating. Tony grunted, overcharged his right arm, and punched straight through the chest.
"This armor was designed to stop the Hulk," he muttered. "Guess it'll do."
Another winged beast descended, this one even larger.
And that's when Gwen lost control.
She'd been fending off waves of Lesser Tech-Beasts—machines grown from alien biotech that screeched like tortured metal. She hadn't let herself go full Anodite, not after meeting with Grandma Verdona.
But then she saw Max.
He was on the ground, clutching his arm, blood staining his sleeve.
Something cracked.
The wind around Gwen shifted. Her hair lifted. Her eyes lit like twin novas. Magic surged in fractals across her skin. A high-pitched hum filled the air. She floated off the ground, shadows dancing beneath her feet.
The next Highbreed didn't get to roar.
Gwen's energy slammed into it like a meteor, sending it careening into the upper atmosphere—disappearing from view. Another lunged at her, only to be vaporized mid-leap by a web of violet sigils that expanded like a blooming lotus.
Ben dropped beside her in a blur.
"Gwen?" he asked, panting from his last transformation.
She didn't answer—her body still glowed with fury.
Just then Max came in, signalling Ben to leave her to him.
Ben sighed and looked down at the Omnitrix on his wrist. "Let's try this one…"
Strontian, at least that's what the species was named…
The transformation was instant. Purple skin, black armor, glowing eyes. He shot into the air with such force that sand spiraled into mini-cyclones. The Highbreeds finally hesitated.
He flew through one's gut.
Turned midair.
Tore off another's wings.
Every strike was a shockwave.
Azmuth watched all this, perched atop Max's vehicle like a grumpy green gargoyle. His arms folded, eyes scanning the battlefield.
"Inefficient, yet it's something," he muttered.
Another flash lit the sky. The jump gate was activating.
Beyond the battlefield, giant alien pylons began to glow. An archway of obsidian metal shimmered with space-time distortion. Blue-white static crackled as the rift began to widen.
Tony landed hard near Azmuth.
"Your ship's ready?" he said. "They just keep coming."
"Then perhaps it's time to go to the source," Azmuth replied.
Ben landed beside them, panting.
"You saying we head through that thing?" he asked.
"I'm saying if we don't, this war doesn't end."
Gwen floated down next, her glow dimmer now. Her expression was grim, focused.
"And if it's a trap?"
Azmuth looked at her. "Going to the enemy stronghold would never not be a trap."
"Kevin's waiting," Ben said, tapping his comms. "He's got the ship prepped."
Behind them, Hulk tossed another Highbreed into the wreckage of a transport ship. SHIELD and UNIT soldiers were finally organizing, moving like a proper unit. Torchwood's field team had set up EMP netting to disrupt hybrid reinforcements. Captain Jack had just returned from being incinerated, brushing ash from his coat like it was lint.
"I hate Thursdays," he muttered.
Back at the staging area, Kevin revved the engine of his heavily modified interstellar vehicle—built from Galvin tech, which they had expanded using Stark parts, and his own brand of creativity. He opened the bay doors.
"Everyone in!"
Tony took one last look at the battlefield.
"Fury, holding the line is on you. We'll try to shut this down from the other side."
Fury's voice crackled through. "You seem to be going through portals too much these days, Stark…"
"And who keep sending me."
The ramp sealed.
The ship lifted.
The jump gate loomed closer, opening like the maw of some ancient beast. Light bent. Space groaned. The fabric of reality shivered.
Gwen sat beside Ben, both staring forward.
"You ready for this?" she asked.
Ben nodded. "Let's give 'em hell."
Azmuth glanced at Kevin. "Don't scratch the ship."
Kevin rolled his eyes. "No promises."
And then they passed through the gate—into the unknown.
Behind them, Earth continued to burn.
But ahead… was the heart of the Hybrid empire.
And the beginning of the final strike.