Brendon had learned one thing the hard way: chaos always left a trail.
The warehouse fire had barely cooled before news sites picked apart every frame of shaky cell-phone footage. Commentators froze the images, zoomed in on the green flash, speculated endlessly.
One vlogger even circled the exact moment the Omnitrix pulsed across Diamondhead's crystalline chest, declaring: "This proves it's not just a mutation—it's tech!"
That was too close. Too dangerous.
So Brendon did what he always did when panic clawed at him. He went back to the lab.
The Omnitrix rested on the desk, its green dial casting a steady glow across the darkened room. Brendon typed furiously at a workstation, lines of code cascading down the screen.
Alicia had asked why the company servers suddenly spiked in power usage. He brushed it off as "system stress tests," but the truth was more delicate: Brendon was writing a defense system for himself.
He called it MaskNet.
A suite of algorithms disguised as an AI analytics platform, MaskNet's real job was threefold:
Scrub Footage: Any video feed within two miles of a registered Brendon Technologies hub would automatically filter for the Omnitrix's green flare, scrubbing or blurring the evidence.
Voice Overlay: Samples of public-domain voices were embedded into a library; whenever Brendon spoke while transformed, the AI would replace his audio signature in any captured clip.
Pattern Noise: MaskNet quietly manipulated online chatter, boosting conspiracy theories and contradicting narratives so the "truth" was buried under noise.
If anyone asked, it was just a prototype for media monitoring. But Brendon knew it was his lifeline.
Still, the code wasn't perfect. Every safeguard carried a cost. Too much manipulation, and someone sharp—like Hill—would notice the patterns.
He leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "Just buy me time. That's all I need."
A knock pulled him from the screen glow.
He opened the lab door to find Alicia standing there with someone else — a young woman about his age, bright blonde hair tied up loosely, sharp features softened by an easy smile.
"Mr. Brendon," Alicia said, "this is Gwen Stacy. She's interning with Oscorp's bio-tech division but asked if she could shadow some of your team for cross-research. Given your… interests in material science."
Brendon blinked, caught off guard. "Oscorp sent you?"
"Not officially," Gwen said quickly. Her voice carried both confidence and the nerves of someone stepping onto new ground. "I'm… curious about how you achieved the structural stability in your glass polymers. Oscorp's models keep fracturing under vibration. Yours don't."
Brendon studied her. Most interns fumbled through introductions; Gwen had walked in with a problem and a reason to talk to him. That alone piqued his interest.
"Alright," he said slowly. "I'll show you the lab. But fair warning—this isn't Oscorp. We don't have bottomless funding or Norman Osborn breathing down our necks."
She grinned. "Sounds like paradise already."
They walked through the lab together. Brendon explained the basics of Diamond Glass without revealing its true origin, keeping the conversation rooted in chemistry and lattice design. Gwen followed easily, throwing in her own insights, sometimes even correcting minor points with a sharpness that made him raise an eyebrow.
When they paused by the prototype Flux Drone, she tilted her head. "You ever worry about what people will do with these things once they leave your hands? Drones, unbreakable glass, batteries that don't overheat. You're building tools, but they could be weapons."
The question struck deeper than she knew. Brendon forced a casual shrug. "That's the gamble of invention. You hope people use it to build, not destroy."
Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, as though testing that answer. Then she smiled again, letting the tension break. "Fair. But if Oscorp steals your designs, I'll definitely pretend I've never seen this place."
Brendon chuckled, a sound he hadn't felt in days. "I'll hold you to that."
That night, when Gwen left with Alicia, Brendon sat back down at his console. MaskNet continued to hum, scrubbing feeds, weaving noise, protecting his double life.
But his thoughts drifted back to Gwen. She was smart, sharp, unafraid to ask dangerous questions. Someone who might see through him if he wasn't careful.
And yet… he didn't feel the same paranoia with her as he did with Hill or Hammer. With Gwen, the weight felt lighter, if only for a few minutes.
Brendon looked at the Omnitrix, its glow reflecting in the glass wall of the lab.
"Prepared for Hammer," he murmured. "Prepared for Hill. But Gwen… I don't know what to prepare for there."
The Omnitrix pulsed, silent.
Brendon leaned back, allowing himself one rare thought before the storm resumed: maybe not every risk was something to code against.