I zip back to Fisk's penthouse as XLR8, my mind still processing the battle. The sun has set, and the city lights twinkle below like fallen stars.
As I transform back to human form, I find Fisk standing by his floor-to-ceiling windows, watching news coverage of the fight.
"That," he says without turning, "was not what we discussed."
On multiple screens, shaky phone footage shows Ultimate Humungousaur trading blows with the Abomination.
Other angles capture my rescue efforts as XLR8. The media is already dubbing it 'The Battle of Harlem.'
"No," I agree, sinking into a leather chair. "It was better."
Fisk turns, his expression unreadable. "Multiple transformations. Evolution capabilities. You've been holding back information."
"I have many forms," I admit. "Each with its own abilities. Each with the potential to evolve further."
"This changes things." He walks to his desk, pressing a button. A holographic display springs to life, showing social media reactions, news coverage, and preliminary polling data.
"Public response is... overwhelming. They're already calling you a hero."
I watch as clips of XLR8's rescue efforts play alongside Ultimate Humungousaur's battle footage. "That was the point, wasn't it?"
"Indeed." Fisk studies the data scrolling past. "Though this debut was far more spectacular than planned. The adoption announcement goes live tomorrow morning.
The timing really couldn't be better - the lost son of Wilson Fisk, turning his trauma into a force for good."
"The press will want a name," Fisk continues, pulling up more data. "A superhero identity. Something that captures the public's imagination while maintaining the narrative we've built."
I watch as more footage plays across the screens. Someone managed to capture the moment I transformed from XLR8 to Humungousaur, then later to Ultimate Humungousaur. The quality is poor, but the dramatic effect is undeniable.
"Shift," I say suddenly. "Simple, descriptive, memorable."
Fisk considers this, then nods. "Yes, that could work. The media's already focusing on your transformation abilities.
We'll need to control the narrative though - explain your powers in a way that aligns with your backstory."
He brings up a preliminary press release. "Government experiments on enhanced genetics, leading to metamorphic abilities, the device being a focus point for you to be able to more easily choose what you morph into.
It explains the transformations without revealing the true nature of your..." He trails off.
"Ultimatrix,"
"Ultimatrix," He repeats, akin to tasting the word on his tongue.
A news alert interrupts us - General Ross is giving a statement about the Harlem incident. His face fills one of the screens, tight with barely controlled anger.
"The incident in Harlem is under military investigation," he announces. "This new enhanced individual who intervened will be required to register with the appropriate authorities-"
"And so it begins," Fisk muses, muting the feed. "The government will want to control you, study you. Which makes our next move crucial."
"Let them come," I say, watching Ross's muted tirade. "A victim of government experiments, now being pursued by the very system that created him? The public will eat it up."
A slight smile crosses Fisk's face. "You understand optics better than I expected." He pulls up another document.
"The legal team is ready. When Ross makes his move, we'll counter with allegations of past government misconduct. Your 'origin' documents are already seeded in various databases."
My new phone buzzes with alerts as #Shift and #HarlemHero trend worldwide.
"Though we should discuss these other forms," Fisk says, studying me intently. "The speed creature, the evolution capability - what else haven't you shown?"
"Let's just say I'm full of surprises," I reply carefully. Even with our arrangement, there's no need to reveal all my cards.
"Speaking of which," Fisk continues, pulling up designs on his tablet, "your costume is already in production. Adaptive material that won't tear during transformations, built-in communications-"
A new alert interrupts him - amateur footage showing Ultimate Humungousaur and the Hulk fighting side by side against the Abomination.
"The optics are perfect," Fisk observes. "Two powerful beings protecting the city from a third. Tomorrow's press conference will be... interesting."
He stands, walking to the window overlooking the city. "The adoption announcement, your hero debut, the military's interest - everything aligns perfectly. Now we just need to ensure the narrative stays on track."
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The next morning, Fisk Tower's press room is packed. Journalists jostle for position, cameras flash, and the air buzzes with anticipation.
I stand backstage, adjusting my tailored suit - black with a red tie that complements my eyes.
Sixteen in body and already world famous.
"Ready?" Fisk asks, appearing beside me.
"Born ready," I reply, though my heart pounds. It's one thing to fight monsters; it's another to face the world's media.
Fisk's PR director takes the podium first, making preliminary announcements. Then Fisk himself steps out, commanding attention with his presence alone.
"Three months ago," he begins, "my investigation into illegal government experimentation uncovered something extraordinary - a son I never knew I had."
The room erupts with questions. Fisk raises a hand for silence.
"Twenty-three years ago, a classified program conducted genetic experiments on infants. When years later exposed, they destroyed records and displaced the children.
One of those children was my biological son, his DNA altered, his identity erased." He pauses for effect. "Yesterday, you saw what those experiments created."
The screens behind him light up with footage from Harlem. My rescue efforts as XLR8, the battle as Humungousaur, the final confrontation as Ultimate Humungousaur.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Fisk announces, "I present my son, Samael Fisk... though you may know him better as Shift."
That's my cue. I step onto the stage, the room exploding with camera flashes and shouted questions.
The white hair and red eyes that once made me stand out now serve as proof of the story we're selling.
"I know you have questions," I say into the sudden hush. "About who I am, what I can do, why I chose to reveal myself." I meet the sea of cameras steadily.
"The truth is, I could have stayed hidden. But after yesterday, after seeing the difference I could make... I chose to step into the light."
"Mr. Fisk - Samael," a reporter from the Daily Bugle stands, "how many forms can you transform into?"
"I'm still discovering my capabilities," I answer smoothly. "The genetic alterations allow for multiple transformations, each with unique abilities."
"And the evolution power we saw?" another journalist cuts in. "That final form that helped take down the Abomination?"
"A recent development. The experiments apparently created adaptive DNA structures that can temporarily evolve under extreme stress."
Christine Everhart from Vanity Fair rises next. "To Wilson Fisk - why reveal this now? Why not when you first found your son?"
Fisk steps forward, his expression carefully crafted to show paternal concern. "My son needed time to adjust, to understand his abilities. After years of isolation and experimentation, he deserved privacy. But after yesterday's events..."
"Speaking of yesterday," a CNN reporter interrupts, "General Ross has demanded you register with military authorities. Your response?"
I lean into the microphone, letting a hint of steel enter my voice. "I think the military has done enough experimenting on me for one lifetime. I'm not a weapon to be controlled - I'm a person trying to use these abilities to help others."
The questions continue rapid-fire until Fisk's PR director calls for a final one. A young reporter from the New York Bulletin stands.
"Samael, what would you say to others like you? Other victims of similar experiments?"
I pause, knowing this answer needs to resonate. "I'd say you're not alone anymore. And that what was done to us doesn't define who we choose to become."
As we exit the stage, the media erupts in a frenzy. Outside, crowds have gathered, watching on large screens. Some hold hastily made "Shift" signs. Others chant my new name.
Fisk places a hand on my shoulder - a perfect photo opportunity. "Well done," he murmurs. "The world believes in Shift... and more importantly, they believe in redemption."
I watch the crowds, knowing this is just the beginning. The Ultimatrix pulses quietly on my wrist, hidden beneath an expensive watch.
In this universe of emerging heroes and looming threats, I've made my debut.
Now comes the hard part - living up to it.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter?
How do you find the superhero name 'Shift'
I find it fitting. Not everything needs to be grandiose. I've after all had plenty fun with grandiose names, destiny, prophecies, etc. In my other fanfics.
So found a simpler name, more natural, especially for a world like Marvel, where one is called Iron man and spiderman.
I edited the previous chapter by the way - Samael is now not adopted in the eyes of the public, but Fisk's lost biological son. His altered DNA, making a DNA test obsolete as proof he isn't.
Also, the Kingpin isn't like the one in the comics. Not as evil. Just wanted to clarify that.
So yeah, do please comment and review if you haven't and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)