Morning finds me in Fisk's office, watching him arrange papers with that methodical precision that makes everything feel like a chess move.
"The media coverage of your recovery has been favorable," he begins, sliding a folder across his desk. "Time Magazine wants an exclusive. Your first official interview since the incident."
I flip through the briefing package. Planned questions, suggested responses, carefully crafted narratives about family, power, and responsibility.
"There's something else," Fisk continues, his tone shifting slightly. "Vanessa would like to meet you."
I look up sharply. "Vanessa?"
"My girlfriend." He watches my reaction carefully. "She's been... quite insistent about meeting my son. Says a mother shouldn't be kept from her child, even an adopted one."
The way he says it makes it clear this isn't just about family bonding. Vanessa's part of his world, his real world, not just the public facade.
"You never mentioned her before," I say carefully.
"Some things I keep private. For protection." He stands, moving to his window. "But given recent events, given your role in both my organizations... it's time."
The unspoken message is clear - this is another test, another layer of trust being extended. Or maybe a trap. With Fisk, it's usually both.
"When?"
"Tonight. After your interview." He turns back to me. "The media will want to discuss your transformation, your choice to let that power go. Stay close to the prepared responses."
"And Vanessa?"
A slight smile crosses his face. "Just be yourself. She has a way of seeing through pretense."
Great. An intimate family dinner with Wilson Fisk's girlfriend right after my first major media appearance. What could possibly go wrong?
The Time Magazine interview is set for noon at their New York offices. As the elevator climbs, I review the talking points one last time:
Focus on protecting people Acknowledge the power but emphasize choice Reinforce family support Avoid specific details about transformations
The interviewer, Sarah Chen, has a reputation for getting past PR scripts. This should be interesting.
"Samael," she greets me warmly, professional but genuine. "Thank you for choosing us for your first interview."
"Thank you for having me," I reply, taking the offered seat. The photographer sets up in the corner while Sarah arranges her notes.
"Shall we begin?"
I nod, and she activates her recorder.
"The world watched you transform into pure energy, display power that made Thor - our resident Asgardian Prince - himself take notice, then choose to let it go. What was going through your mind in that moment?"
And so it begins - the dance between truth and narrative, between what I can say and what I need to hide.
'Welcome to the spotlight, kid. Try not to break reality again.' Sarah Chen thinks.
I consider my words carefully, remembering Fisk's briefing. "In that moment, the power was... intoxicating. It showed me everything - every possibility, every thread of reality. But it also showed me what I could lose."
"Your humanity?" Sarah leans forward slightly.
"That, and the connections that make being human worthwhile." The answer comes easier than expected. "Power's tempting, but it's not worth losing yourself over."
She makes a note, then shifts approach. "There's been significant debate about enhanced individuals lately. Some see you as a symbol of hope, a messiah, others as a potential threat, a destroyer. How do you respond to those concerns?"
"First of all, I don't think I am anything that grandiose, on either spectrum. Secondly, I understand both perspectives," I say, watching her reaction. "When you see someone transform into pure energy, fear is natural. But I think what matters isn't the power we have - it's the choices we make with it."
"Like your choice to protect Thor?"
"Like anyone's choice to help others when they can." I adjust my position slightly. "The power to help and the decision to use it responsibly - that's what makes a hero, not the ability to transform."
Sarah studies me for a moment. "Your father, Wilson Fisk, has been instrumental in your transition to public life. How has your relationship evolved since being taken in by him?"
Careful territory here. "He's been... supportive. Understanding. When you discover you can transform into different creatures, having someone in your corner makes a difference."
"And the circumstances? The government experiments?"
"Are still being investigated," I reply smoothly. "But what matters is moving forward, using these abilities to help others."
The questions continue - about the Destroyer battle, about working with Iron Man, about my various transformations. I stick to the script where needed, improvise where safe.
"What do you see for your future?" Finally, Sarah asks the question I've been waiting for, the beginning of the end of this tiresome interview.
"Honestly?" I meet her gaze. "I see change coming. Not just for me, but for everyone. The world's getting bigger, more complex.
My job is to help where I can, protect who I can, and hopefully make the right choices along the way."
She nods, seemingly satisfied. "One last question - if you could say something to those who fear your power, what would it be?"
"I'd say... judge me by my actions, not my abilities. I chose humanity once. I'll keep choosing it, every time." At least, if it means I lose myself because of it. If I can have that power without cost - hell yes, I'm taking it.
The interview wraps up, photos are taken, and pleasantries exchanged. But as I head back to Fisk Tower, my mind's already on the next challenge.
Dinner with Vanessa. Meeting the woman who wants to be my mother, who's part of Fisk's real world, not just his public face.
It should be... Interesting, at the very least.
------------------------------
Fisk's private dining room feels different tonight - less business, more intimate. The usual stark minimalism is softened by candlelight and fresh flowers. It's almost... normal. Almost.
I adjust my tie for the tenth time, the expensive fabric feeling like a noose. The Ultimatrix is concealed beneath a designer watch sleeve - Fisk's insistence on maintaining appearances even in private.
"Nervous?" Fisk appears in the doorway, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him.
"Me? Nah. Just wondering if I should have brought flowers or something. What's the protocol for meeting your crime boss father's girlfriend?"
His expression softens slightly. "Vanessa isn't like anyone else in my world. She sees things... differently."
Before I can ask what that means, she enters, and I immediately understand what Fisk means. Vanessa Marianna carries herself with an elegance that makes the room feel warmer, more alive.
"So," she smiles, and it reaches her eyes, "this is the son you've been keeping from me, Wilson."
"Vanessa," Fisk's voice holds genuine affection. "Meet Samael."
"I've been watching your interviews," she approaches, studying me with intelligent eyes. "You handle the media well for someone so young."
"Good coaching," I reply, noting how Fisk watches our interaction with careful attention.
"And modest too," she laughs softly. "Please, sit. I want to know everything about you - the real you, not the carefully scripted version the world sees."
As we settle around the table, I realize this isn't just dinner. It's an evaluation, but not the kind I'm used to. Vanessa doesn't care about power plays or public images. She wants to understand the person behind them.
"Tell me," she says as servers bring the first course, "how are you really handling everything? The powers, the publicity, becoming Wilson's son?"
Her directness catches me off guard. Most people dance around these topics, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But Vanessa asks like she genuinely wants to know.
The question is: how honest should I be?
"It's..." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "Different. Everything happened so fast - the powers, the adoption, becoming a public figure. Sometimes it feels like I'm playing catch-up with my own life."
Vanessa nods, her eyes sharp but kind. "And Wilson? How are you finding life with him?"
I catch Fisk watching us over his wine glass, his expression unreadable.
"He's..." I glance at him, then back to Vanessa. "Not what I expected. In good ways, mostly."
"He can be surprising," she agrees, sharing a look with Fisk that speaks volumes. "Though I imagine becoming a father wasn't in his original plans either."
"Life rarely follows our plans," Fisk comments, and something in his tone makes me wonder if he's thinking about more than just the adoption.
The first course arrives - something French that probably costs more than a car payment. Vanessa navigates the conversation with practiced ease, asking about my transformations, my thoughts on art (apparently she runs a gallery), my experiences with sudden fame.
"The media loves creating narratives," she observes, "but they missed something in today's interview. When you talked about power and choice - there was real weight behind those words."
I nearly choke on my wine. "You caught that?"
"I've spent years reading people, Samael. It's essential in the art world." She sets down her fork. "You speak about power from experience, not theory. That red energy form - it offered you something more than just raw power, didn't it?"
Fisk shifts slightly in his chair, and I realize he's as interested in my answer as she is.
"It showed me possibilities," I admit. "Paths that could be taken, choices that could be made. Some beautiful, some..." I trail off, remembering the overwhelming sensation of reality bending around me - the memories having become more clear.
I remember feeling... feeling like I could actually get home with that power, but knew, by the time I did, I wouldn't be the son my parents lost. And I couldn't deal with the thought.
It was what allowed me to break through it...
"And you chose to let it go," she finishes. "That says something about who you are."
"Or who I'm trying to be," I counter.
"Aren't we all?" Vanessa smiles, but there's wisdom behind it. "Wilson and I have had many conversations about choice, about becoming who we want to be versus who others see us as."
I glance at Fisk, surprised by this glimpse into their private discussions.
"Vanessa understands complexity," he says simply, but the way he looks at her contains multitudes.
The conversation shifts to lighter topics, but something has changed. This isn't just dinner anymore - it's become something more genuine, more real.
And maybe that's what scares me most of all.
As dessert arrives - some artisanal creation that looks too perfect to eat - Vanessa leans back, studying me with those perceptive eyes.
"You know," she says thoughtfully, "when Wilson first told me about adopting you, I was... concerned. Not about you," she adds quickly, "but about him. Taking on a son, especially one with such unique abilities, seemed risky."
"And now?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Now I see why he did it." She glances at Fisk with a soft smile. "You both needed something you couldn't admit to wanting."
"Family is complicated," Fisk offers, and coming from him, it feels like both a warning and an acknowledgment.
"Speaking of complicated," Vanessa continues, "I'd like to make this a regular thing. Weekly family dinners, away from the cameras and expectations. A chance to be... real with each other."
I look between them - Fisk, the man who's become a strange sort of father figure, and Vanessa, who sees more than she should and accepts it anyway.
"I'd like that," I find myself saying, and surprisingly, I mean it.
As the evening winds down, Vanessa hugs me goodbye. It's unexpected and oddly normal, which makes it feel even more surreal.
"Take care of yourself," she says quietly. "And remember, like you yourself said today - power isn't just about what you can do. It's about what you choose to do and not do with it."
Walking back to my suite later, I replay the evening in my head. Between the Time interview and dinner with Vanessa, it feels like I've navigated two different worlds - the public one where I play hero, and this private one where family means something both simpler and more complicated.
The Ultimatrix pulses softly, almost like it's agreeing.
Maybe that's the real transformation - not the powers or the fame, but learning to balance who I am across all these different worlds.
Or maybe I'm just tired and getting philosophical.
Either way, as I watch the city lights from my window, I can't help but wonder what other surprises this strange new life has in store.
At least dinner went well. Though knowing my luck, that probably means something crazy is about to happen.
It usually does.