Heading down into the service tunnels, the first workman turned to his partner and said: "I don't know about this, Stanley. The bosses said we should, like, not come down here until they gives the all-clear. That giant spider might still be down here."

Stanley gave his partner a disparaging look. "Of course he still might be down here, Larry." Stanley said, brandishing the camera they'd brought. "That's why we brought this thing. To see if we can get pictures of it. We'd be the first ones. Maybe we could sell it to the Bugle."

"Gee, Stan.." Larry said. "You think so?"

"Sure!" Stanley said. "Why not? That Jameson's got a thing fer spiders. You ever see how many pictures he runs of that Spider-man nut?"

"But I kinda like Spider-man. He saved a neighbor's cat from a tree once."

Stanley gave him a look. This sounded like one of those urban legends. "Are you sure? Anyway, that's not the point."  Stanley tapped the camera around his neck.  "It's not about Spiderman.  It's about trying to get a picture of this new menace down here."

Stanley noticed his friend's eyes grow wide. Noticed the shift in attention to behind where he stood. Methodically, Stanley turned around. A couple of snaps of the camera and they could be up the ladder and back on the streets in a blink.

Stanley had barely enough time to register the huge bulk, the heavy armament, the swinging metal fist -- before the fist came down on him.

It was NOT a giant spider.

The metal fist came up and knocked Spider-man back into shooting range.

"Ouch! That hurt!" Spider-man said. If he hadn't rolled with the punch, it would have broken his jaw and/or snapped his neck. "Careful with that thing, Eugene. You might hurt someone. Namely, me." Spider-man somersaulted backwards and attempted to adhere to the walls.

In keeping with what he had begun to suspect, Spidey wasn't surprised when he couldn't.

The serum had worked too well. Peter Parker was now completely human.

"So I'm supposed to just stand here and let you kill me?" Spider-man replied.

"That's the general idea" the machine said.

"And just who are you, anyway? Are you from the credit union? I didn't mean to overdraw on my ATM, I swear. Scout's honor..." Spidey said, in a mock Boy Scout salute. Was it two fingers, or three?

"It doesn't matter who I am, what matters is, that we're going to slay you."

"Well, your material could use some punching up, and your delivery is pretty flat..." Spidey said. "But you slay me, already." Without even his web shooters (since his costume was in rags), Spidey's only hope was to try to keep talking and fins some way to turn the tide to his advantage, but he had to admit it looked hopeless.

"Keep it up, big mouth. Now STOP MOVING!" Spidey heard the hammers cock. In amoment of calm, he made his peace with his maker.

"Aren't you forgetting somebody?"

A huge hand taps the Spider-Slayer on its metal shoulder. The metal creature tuned around.

It was Dr. Henry Pym, the scientist and former Avenger once known as Ant-Man.

But also once known as Giant Man.

Dr. Pym was still wearing his lab coat, with a cybernetic helmet to keep his identity concealed. If he didn't need to reveal himself, why should he? He led a quiet life and didn't want to jeopardize it.

The Spider Slayer shifted its weight and fired two full bore bursts right at Dr. Pym's chest.

All three men stared in horror as the doctor went down in a bloodied heap.

"No!" "Dr. Pym!" "Giant-Man!"

Dr. Connors and Kirk Langstrom, unheeding the giant metal death-machine, raced forward to tend to their fallen friend.

The Spider Slayer turned back towards Spider-man.

In defiance, with his bare-knuckled, paltry, human fists balled up in defiance, Spidey went forward to his death. He barely felt the capillary on his right fist as it burst.

But a moment later he definitely noticed the result as the contents of a drop of his blood expanded and grew at an exponential rate right before his eyes.

"Excuse me, but may we join the dance?"

The face on the Spider Slayer's chest became confused. "What in --?"

Commander Rann didn't wait for an answer. With three quick blasts of his light-pistol, Rann cleanly disabled the obvious munitions: the two shoulder-mounted .50-cal rifles, and a laser mounted on the right arm. Commander Rann, and his two companions, Marionette and Bug, spun the Spider slayer around to face the last member of their party.

"Perhaps you'd like to pick on somebody your own size?"Acroyear said.

"Wait-?"

"I think not. We're on a tight schedule, here."

Commander Rann and Marionette both went over to the two doctors to see if they could help stabilize Dr. Pym while Acroyear proceeded to pound the Spider Slayer into a neat new shape.

Bug, however, had a different destination. He went to Spider-man. "Are you okay?" he asked Peter.

Peter wasn't exactly sure who these guys were, so he didn't want to let on as to what happened regards his powers. "Er, I'm fine..." he said. "You guys really helped us out."

Commander Rann looked at Dr. Pym. "Not in time for him, however."

Peter felt like a completely selfish jerk. "How is Dr. Pym? If it hadn't've been for him--?"

Marionette said: "He's losing blood at a rapid pace. We need to get him emergency treatment, immediately."

Commander said, by way of explanation as to how they had arrived at the scene: "We heard what was happening on the cybernetic helmets and we escaped through the quickest means we could, using Pym's size-control technology."

"How was that?" Peter wanted to know. Part of him would always be a scientific nerd, no matter what.

"We burst through a capillary on your hand..." Marionette said matter-of-factly.

"Youch!" Peter said.

Bug came up to him again. "We hope we didn't hurt you too much..." he said apologetically. Peter didn't get it. Bug looked like the most fearsome of all of them in his natural insectoid armor. Why was he being so deferential?

Commander Rann came up to him while Mari kept look after the fallen Dr. Pym and Bug went over to help her. "His people heard about you. You're something of a hero to them, Spider-man."

"How is that?" Peter wanted to know.

"On our world, his people are looked down upon because of their being an insectoid race. Well, it just springs from that. Bug is suffering from a major case of hero worship right now. Just thought I'd let you know."

"Okay..."Peter said. "Thanks for the head's up."

Passing the spot where Dr. Langstrom was, Peter could tell he was feeling down about what had happened with Pym. Heck, they all were. Dr. Langstrom was muttering something to himself.

"What was that, Doctor?" Peter asked.

"If I had only been able to help in some way..." Dr. Langstrom replied. "He took the bullets intended for us. What was he thinking?I mean, it's not like he had any weapons or anything. Only his courage."

Peter put his sore and bruised arm around Dr. Langstrom. "Aw c'mon doc. Don't beat yourself up. Look, we'll use the cybernetic helmets to punch into the police band, give them our GPS coordinates from the portable machine Doc Connors was carrying, and we'll get an ambulance here in no time, you'll see."

Just then the Acroyear came and presented Spider-man with a small metal cube. "Here you go..." he said.

"What's that?" said Peter.

"Your friend the Spider Slayer..." answered the Acroyear. "Careful, it weighs a ton."

"Um, thanks?"

The ambulances arrived shortly thereafter, and the Micronauts thought it better to return to their realm rather than sit around and wait to be questioned. The one who seemed most reluctant to leave was Bug. Peter Parker promised to look into his realm at some future date. Bug made him solemnly promise to do so.

Soon enough the tunnels were empty except for the pools of blood and the vermin which came to lap at it.

All the pieces were in place.

The man, who was a benefactor to many, had set the pieces before him, and the players. He had been in this strange place, this foreign-but-familiar-world, for over a year now. After his initial discomfort in finding himself in this altered environment, he had discovered that there were advantages to coming from a world whose technology had edged past Earth, thanks to the Sovereign's influence.

The man had set about looking for certain physical types. Genetic templates suitable for remolding. And  in searching for the perfect genotype, he had found a few perks.

The man pulled back on a glass cylinder. In that hige vat, a black substance roiled and bubbled.

A voice assaulted the man's head. You! Human! I demand you release me!

The otherworlder spoke aloud to the creature: "You are in no position to demand anything," he said. His voice was calm, but the alien's assault on his psyche had been painful and difficult to shake. The man twiddled a few knobs, flooding the chamber with pulsing energy which made the alien substance roil and heave. Finally, it was dormant again, docile, and the man sat down and pulled the curtain back into place. It would not do for the creature to start asserting itself at this stage. There were many things yet to set in play.

He couldn't do everything alone, however. He called for his assistant. "Harleen!" he said.

"Yes, Mr Stacy?"

"Prepare the laboratory, would you Harleen?"

"Yes Mr Stacy. Right away, sir."

Oh, Harleen, he thought. You will see such things on the morrow.