The Antidote from the Sky

Driven by the dual forces of All-Things Analysis and Engineering Talent.

The molecular skeleton had to be small enough to penetrate cell membranes.

The complementarity of the binding sites had to be precise down to every hydrogen bond and the angle of every van der Waals force.

At the same time, the binding rate of serum proteins had to be considered; if too many molecules were sequestered by albumin in the blood, the effective concentration reaching the target would be insufficient.

Eighteen minutes.

The molecular structure design was complete.

Next was synthesis.

Lynn opened the chemical reagent kit inside the medical case.

The microfluidic chip of the Stark Portable Lab Bench provided the reaction platform.

He extracted four basic precursor compounds from the kit and mixed them in the microfluidic channels according to the calculated molar ratio.

Reaction temperature—body temperature was sufficient. For the catalyst, he added a drop of buffer containing a specific enzyme.

Two minutes later, a tube of transparent liquid dripped from the outlet of the microfluidic chip.

All-Things Analysis verified the result—the molecular structure matched the design, with a purity of ninety-one percent. It was not perfect, but it was enough.

"Done." Lynn picked up the tube of liquid.

He pressed his comms headset: "Front line, the reversal agent has been synthesized. But I've encountered a problem—there are too many mutants to inject them one by one. I need a way to deploy this over a wide area."

The commander's voice replied: "Firefighting helicopters? Aerosol spraying?"

"That works. But this tube is a concentrate; if sprayed directly, the concentration won't be uniform. I need an Aerosol Diffuser to turn the liquid agent into a mist with a particle size between five and ten microns."

Engineering Talent took control of his hands at that moment.

There was a spare air purifier in the armored command vehicle, which contained an ultrasonic atomizer.

Lynn dismantled it in thirty seconds.

Then, he took an IV bottle, a length of silicone tubing, and a micro-battery pack from the medical case.

Assemble.

Connect.

He used an analyzer to calibrate the vibration frequency of the atomizer to ensure the output droplet size was within the target range.

Three minutes.

A fist-sized, makeshift Aerosol Diffuser sat on the table.

"Get the firefighting helicopters over here," Lynn told the commander.

The commander hesitated for a second.

He glanced at the front line—another barricade had been breached.

"Dispatch the helicopters," he ordered.

Two firefighting helicopters took off from Midtown Manhattan and arrived over the Harlem District seven minutes later.

Lynn placed the Aerosol Diffuser and the diluted reversal agent into a crash-proof, sealed container, which was hoisted up to the helicopter by ground personnel using a tether.

He stood on top of the command vehicle, communicator in hand.

"Attention, all front-line personnel," his voice reached everyone's headset through the channel.

"In thirty seconds, I will deploy the reversal agent over the combat zone. It is in aerosol form and harmless to normal humans, but for safety, everyone should wear a gas mask or hold your breath."

"The onset time for mutants after inhaling the agent is about thirty to forty-five seconds. During the onset, mutants may experience brief, violent struggling; this is a normal reaction as the body reverts from mutation. Front-line personnel, stay alert and do not approach the mutants during this period."

The channel went silent for two seconds.

Captain America's voice came through: "Copy. Everyone fall back to the second line of defense and mask up."

Black Widow: "Understood."

Hawkeye's voice came from a rooftop: "Is this thing actually going to work?"

"You'll see."

The firefighting helicopters lowered their altitude and entered the combat zone.

The spray nozzles on the bellies of the aircraft opened.

The diluted reversal agent was atomized by the Aerosol Diffuser into a visible white mist, drifting down from the sky.

The scene felt surreal; above the war-torn streets, a layer of white fog suddenly descended.

The first mutant to breathe in the mist was the one with insectoid chitin.

He was in the middle of tearing apart an overturned taxi.

When the white mist drifted in front of him, he instinctively took a breath.

Three seconds later, he stopped.

His six limbs began to tremble.

Cracks appeared on the surface of his chitin—not breaking, but withering.

The hard shell covering his upper body slowly receded like a receding tide, revealing the pale human skin beneath.

His height began to drop.

He shrank from over two meters back to the height of an ordinary person.

The limbs fell off, twitched twice on the ground, and then went still.

Finally, he turned back into a person.

A thirty-something Asian man, thin and tall, wearing a shredded T-shirt.

He lay on the ground, gasping for air, his whole body shaking.

The second mutant began to recover as well.

The female mutant whose body heat could melt asphalt saw her surface temperature drop rapidly, the steam rising from her body thinning out.

Her skin slowly returned from dark red to its normal brown.

She knelt on the ground and burst into tears.

The third. The fourth. The fifth.

The mutants fell like dominoes, one after another returning to human form.

They collapsed on the street, weak but alive.

All eighteen mutants had returned to human form within three minutes.

The front line went quiet.

The soldiers took off their gas masks.

The younger ones looked at each other, their expressions a mix of shock and relief.

The veterans were much quieter, but they lowered their guns.

Hawkeye sheathed his bow.

He stood on the edge of the rooftop, glancing down toward the command vehicle.

"WTF," he said.

The volume of those two words was low, but the comms channel was still open.

Everyone heard it.

Captain America did not speak.

His shield returned to his back.

He walked through the defensive line toward the command vehicle.

Lynn stood on the roof of the vehicle, his lab coat fluttering in the night wind.

He saw Captain America approaching.

He jumped off the vehicle.

Steve Rogers stopped in front of him.

He was more than half a head taller than Lynn, with shoulders nearly twice as broad.

There were a few shallow abrasions on his chiseled face—left by the mutants, already healing.

"Thank you, Doctor," he extended his right hand. "You saved a lot of people today."

Lynn shook his hand.

Super Senses exploded with information the moment they made contact.

The density of the muscle fibers under the skin of Captain America's palm, the hardness of his bones, his cellular metabolic activity—everything was ridiculously high.

All-Things Analysis simultaneously provided deeper data: the operating mechanism of the Super Soldier Serum within his cells, the energy output efficiency of his mitochondria, and the signal conduction speed of his neural synapses.

This was a human machine optimized to perfection.

It was so perfect it felt unreal.

All-Things Diagnosis automatically completed a full scan in the background, and the results caused Lynn to note one key piece of information.

"Captain Rogers," Lynn said, holding his hand, his tone no different from a routine consultation. "Has your right shoulder joint been feeling a bit uncomfortable lately?"

Captain America's eyebrows twitched.

"How did you know?"