The article hit him like a punch in the gut.
"Mystery Vigilante Spotted Again — Locals Call Him 'Morpher'."
The grainy photo showed nothing but a smear of green light and a cracked wall, but it was enough. The reporter had pieced together sightings: a blur of claws in the alleys, a crystalline figure at the docks, a towering brute breaking up a gang fight.
And now? A name. Morpher.
Brendon dropped the paper onto his desk and rubbed his face.
"Could've been worse. Could've been 'Green Lantern Ripoff.'"
Still, the name stuck in his head. It wasn't one he chose, but it was spreading. Hashtags. Late-night talk shows joking about him. Neighborhood kids daring each other to stay out after dark to "spot the Morpher."
He sighed. So much for anonymity.
Alien-Inspired Tech
If the night was chaos, the day was opportunity.
Brendon Technologies was growing. Investors wanted more than just an energy cell—they wanted a pipeline. And thanks to the Omnitrix, Brendon had one.
Diamond Glass™: using Grey Matter's brain and Diamondhead's structure, he synthesized a transparent, nearly unbreakable glass polymer. Marketed for phone screens and building windows. Cheap enough to scale, impressive enough to attract notice.
Flux Drone: lightweight reconnaissance drones, their movement algorithms mimicking XLR8's balance and speed. They weren't fast, but their stability made them invaluable for surveillance and filming.
PyroSafe Batteries: disguised as "thermal-stable power cells," but really modeled on what he'd observed as Heatblast—energy that resisted overheating under extreme stress.
Each prototype blurred the line. Civilian-friendly on the outside, alien in origin underneath.
The company's press kit branded him as a "visionary engineer." Brendon just called it good cover.
The Morpher's Reach
At night, Morpher became more than whispers.
A clip went viral: a gang of carjackers scattered like bowling pins as a crystalline giant emerged from the dark, his body shimmering under streetlights. The phone's mic caught his voice, deep and strange through Diamondhead's form:
"Go home. This city doesn't need you."
For once, the video didn't end in chaos. No one died. No one even got hurt beyond bruises and broken egos.
And the comments flooded in.
Finally, someone who's not just smashing everything.
Is this guy connected to Stark?
Morpher for Mayor.
Recognition wasn't what Brendon wanted. But it was what he got.
Private Doubts
Back in his apartment, he sat with the Omnitrix faceplate glowing faintly.
"Morpher," he muttered. "Hell of a brand for someone who doesn't want to be branded."
The watch gave no answer, of course. Just that steady green pulse, like a heartbeat reminding him he was tethered to something far bigger than he understood.
And yet, he couldn't deny it: part of him liked the name. Part of him liked that people weren't terrified of him—they were rooting for him.
The line was thin. Too much attention, and Fury would come knocking. Too reckless, and he'd be treated as a threat.
Brendon flexed his hand, watching the Omnitrix glow paint the room green.
"If I'm Morpher now… guess I better start acting like I know what I'm doing."