Back in her room, Gwen shut the door and paused, listening for a moment. The TV was on downstairs, and she could hear her mom moving around in the kitchen.
She looked down at her hands.
"…Okay."
She walked over to her desk. "Start small," she muttered.
She placed her hand on the edge and pressed lightly — nothing. She added a bit more pressure — still fine. She relaxed slightly, then pushed again without thinking.
Crack.
Gwen pulled her hand back fast. "Okay — yeah, I was not dreaming."
The surface had dented under her palm.
She exhaled and stepped back. "Too much. Way too much."
After a second, she turned toward the wall. "Let's try this…"
She placed her palm flat against it and pressed gently. Nothing happened at first. She pressed a little more, then slowly lifted one foot and set it against the wall.
It stuck.
Gwen blinked. "Wait…"
She leaned forward carefully and lifted her other foot off the ground. For a moment, she was actually standing on the wall, tilted but holding.
"Oh —"
She lost focus. Her foot slipped and she dropped back down with a soft thud.
"Ow… okay." She sat there for a second, then let out a small laugh. "That worked."
Getting back up, she tried again — slower this time. Hand first, then foot. She held it a little longer, took one step up, then another.
Her balance wobbled.
"No, no — just stay calm. Gwen, you can do it."
She overcorrected and slipped again, catching herself on the way down.
She stepped back and looked up at the ceiling.
"…Can I?"
She hesitated, then bent her knees and jumped. She went higher than expected — her hand shot up on instinct and stuck.
She froze.
"…Oh my God."
She grabbed with her other hand and lifted her legs. Now she was hanging upside down.
"This is actually happening —"
Her grip shifted slightly. Panic hit.
"Wait — no —"
She lost it and dropped.
Thud.
"Ouch."
She lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling — then a grin spread across her face.
"Yesss —"
"Gwen, why are you shouting up there?" Helen called from downstairs.
Gwen sat up quickly. "Nothing! Sorry, Mom!"
"Keep it down!"
"Okay!"
She got back to her feet, brushing herself off, still smiling. Her eyes went to her hands again, then to the wall.
"…This is real."
She took a breath.
"Alright. One more time. Just slower."
At the same time, Jack finished fixing the broken bathroom. He checked the time — the night was still ahead of him. The city was just getting started, and so was he. He'd been thinking about the new aliens all day, and now seemed like a good time to actually try them.
He took XLR8 to the abandoned subway, shifted back to normal once he was inside, and made his way down the familiar path to the hideout.
He stopped in front of the entrance and clapped twice. A small hidden panel slid out from the wall — a stone statue, no bigger than a decoration. Jack pressed his hand flat against the top. It scanned his palm, then his eye. A door appeared in the wall where there hadn't been one before, swinging open without a sound.
The process of entering a secret base really never gets old, Jack thought as he stepped through. The door closed behind him automatically.
Inside the lab, he went straight to the container holding the spider that had bitten Peter. "Let's store this here for now. When I get the time, I should figure out how it actually works." He placed it carefully in a preservation unit and moved on.
He walked to the open corner of the hideout and looked down at the Omnitrix.
"Which alien first?"
He stared at the dial for a second, thumb hovering.
"System, introduce Wildmutt info."
[Species: Vulpimancer | Homeworld: Vulpin]
[Traits: Blind quadrupedal predator with heightened senses—smell, hearing, and thermal perception replace vision]
[Abilities: Exceptional tracking ability, powerful claws and jaws, high agility, and a resilient hide suited for harsh environments]
"Let's try Wildmutt first."
Katcha.
The change hit fast. His body dropped lower before he could react, weight shifting forward onto all fours. Muscle tightened in places he wasn't used to, his spine adjusting, balance completely different. For half a second, he tried to stand upright out of habit —
— and immediately stumbled, his front limbs hitting the ground to catch himself.
"Mm —"
The sound that came out wasn't words. Just a rough, low noise.
He stilled for a moment, trying to get his bearings.
There was no sight — not in any way he understood it. It was like perceiving a heat reading, his body sensing the world through temperature and release. Just… nothing in the way he was used to.
Then smell hit. Hard.
Layers of it, all at once. Metal, oil, dust, the faint trace of chemicals from the lab side of the base. Even older scents — things that had been there hours ago — still lingered, overlapping in a way that was difficult to separate.
He shifted slightly, and the mix changed.
Then sound. Every small noise felt sharper — the low hum of machinery somewhere deeper in the base, a faint drip of water he hadn't noticed before, even his own movement. Claws against the floor, the subtle shift of his weight, all of it coming through clearer than expected.
It was too much.
For a second, he didn't move at all. Just trying to process it.
Focus.
He took a cautious step forward.
Wrong call. His paw came down sooner than he expected, throwing off his balance. He adjusted quickly, but it felt awkward — like his sense of distance didn't match the movement of his body.
He tried again. Slower this time.
Step. Pause. Step.
Better. Not good — but better.
He turned his head slightly, testing the way the world reacted. Shapes weren't visible, but there were outlines. Heat, maybe. Differences in space. It wasn't clear, but it gave him something to work with.
He moved toward what he thought was an open path —
— and clipped something solid.
The impact wasn't hard, but enough to make him stop. Too close. He backed up, more careful this time, lowering his body slightly as he moved.
It started to make more sense.
Not seeing didn't mean blind. It just meant different.
He focused on the ground beneath him — the texture, the slight change in air as he moved, the way sound shifted depending on where he stood.
Step. Step. Turn. Pause.
Slow at first, then a little smoother. After a few minutes he picked up the pace — not running, just moving with more confidence. Testing turns, changing direction, letting instinct handle part of it instead of overthinking every step.
A scent caught his attention. Stronger than the rest.
He followed it without thinking, head lowering slightly as he moved. The trail wasn't clear in a straight line — it spread out, faded, picked up again — but he could still track it.
That's useful.
He pushed off the ground a little harder, trying a short jump. Bad timing — he landed unevenly, front paws hitting first, back slipping slightly before he caught himself.
He stayed still for a second, then tried again.
Better. Not perfect, but controlled.
A low, satisfied sound slipped out of him before he even realized it.
He moved faster now — running across the base in short bursts, turning sharper, jumping onto low platforms and dropping back down. Each movement felt a little more natural than the last, and the overload from earlier settled into something manageable. Not comfortable, but usable.
He slowed after a while, breathing steady.
Okay… this works. Different from anything he was used to — but not impossible.
After a final pass across the base, he stopped and let the transformation fade. The world snapped back into normal vision, and for a second it felt almost… dull.
He blinked, adjusting.
"Wildmutt really is wild," he muttered, rolling his shoulders.
He turned it over in his mind. Good for tracking people Red Queen couldn't pick up on cameras — anyone hiding, anyone staying out of sight. This form would still find them. That alone made it worth it.
He nodded to himself.
"Alright. Let's see how Spidermonkey is."
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