Shadows on the Horizon
The Nirvana compound slept. Past midnight, the campus was quiet save for the faint hum of servers and the distant city noise rolling across the Hudson.
Brendon King sat in the heart of his lab, not in front of just one monitor but a constellation of them. Around him, hard-light projections pulsed with faint green runes of Omnitrix encryption.
The file on his screen was blank, for now. A black vault waiting to be filled.
He touched the Omnitrix, felt it hum against his wrist, and whispered:
"Time to chart the future."
The Black File
He called it simply: The Black File.
Not a database. Not a manifesto. It was his roadmap, his ledger of ghosts and storms yet to come. No one but him—and the alien tech bound to him—would ever see inside.
He began typing, dictating in clipped phrases that only he could later parse:
Winter Soldier → Hydra asset. Dangerous. Mind-control conditioning. Possible redemption arc. Contingency: non-lethal takedown, memory restoration tech. Allies in waiting.
Ten Rings → Global terror network. Will intersect with Stark. Must shadow quietly. Contingency: Omnitrix infiltration protocols. Use Ripjaws for coastal strikes if necessary.
Wanda Maximoff / Pietro Maximoff → Hydra experiments. Latent meta-human potential. High risk, high value. Contingency: humanitarian contact via Nirvana. Reintegration, not elimination.
Wakanda → Hidden power. Vibranium reserves. Culturally isolationist. Contingency: establish goodwill through tech diplomacy. Do not antagonize. Possible Nirvana–Wakanda knowledge exchange.
A.I.M. → Advanced Idea Mechanics. Masks itself as think tanks, tech companies. Core threat: bio-enhancements, illegal experiments. Contingency: insert Nirvana as competitor; sabotage black projects.
And then, a blank line. For the unknowns. For the threats he hadn't yet learned about.
He saved it, but saving wasn't the right word. The file didn't sit on a drive or in the cloud. The Omnitrix itself generated fractal encryption patterns, rewriting them constantly. To anyone else, it was static. To him, it was a living diary.
Introspection
Brendon leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
This wasn't about paranoia. It was clarity. The MCU wasn't just a stage of larger-than-life heroes and villains—it was a storm of intersecting destinies. He'd dropped into it with nothing but a watch from another universe and his own stubborn will. If he didn't prepare, he'd drown.
But preparing didn't mean isolation. It meant contingencies and connections.
If Stark falls, who picks up the pieces?
If Rogers never comes back, who inspires the next generation?
If Hydra poisons the world, who cleans it?
He didn't see himself as the savior. He couldn't be. But he could be the spine. The quiet hand nudging events so that others could shine.
Biological Enhancement
His hand drifted over a different screen—schematics for serums. Not perfected, not close, but possibilities.
GreyMatter's notes on cellular regeneration.
DNA-based compatibility charts cross-checked with Omnitrix scans.
Prototypes of metabolic boosters that gave him Captain America–level reflexes for minutes, with minimal backlash.
He wasn't ready to mass-produce them, not yet. But the idea haunted him. Humans couldn't always depend on gods, aliens, and billionaires in suits. They needed a baseline. A way to fight back.
Brendon wasn't sure if he'd ever dare roll these enhancements out beyond himself, but the blueprints existed. Seeds for later.
Allies in the Shadows
The Omnitrix pulsed as if prompting him. Brendon smirked.
"Yeah, yeah. Allies."
The Black File grew:
Morpher Protocols → Build support networks for street-level vigilantes. Tech assistance. Emergency extraction drones. Secure comms.
Spectre Persona → Continue disinformation campaigns. Feed law enforcement Hydra breadcrumbs. Protect vigilantes by muddying digital trails.
Nirvana Network → Funnel funds to community volunteers who moonlight as local heroes. Normalize the idea of citizen action.
He imagined Peter Parker's earnest eyes when he'd pitched his water filtration idea. Gwen's razor intellect hidden under quiet skepticism. Even MJ's sharp tongue, already poking holes in Nirvana's philosophy but secretly admiring it.
They weren't just kids. They were sparks.
If Brendon could give them structure, safety, and gear, they could grow into something the world would need.
Omnitrix Reflections
The watch hummed again. Not impatient—more like a heartbeat.
Brendon tapped it and whispered, "You and me, partner. We're going to change the script."
He knew he was bending it beyond what even Azmuth might have allowed. Extending transformation timers. Carrying fragments of alien powers over. Pulling intellect into his human form. These weren't just hacks—they were evolutions.
The Omnitrix didn't resist. It seemed to approve.
But every gift carried a cost. He felt it in his bones—fatigue, migraines, occasional nosebleeds after long sessions as GreyMatter. A price paid in silence.
Still, Brendon smiled. It was worth it.
Resolution
He closed the Black File. The vault resealed, fractal encryption locking it away.
In the quiet lab, with the servers humming and the compound beyond still, Brendon spoke aloud to no one:
"I won't stop what's coming. That's not my place. But I'll make sure when the storm hits… the world doesn't break."
His reflection in the glass showed tired eyes but a steady jawline. Not a boy anymore. A strategist.
Brendon King, Morpher, the boy with an alien watch, had decided his role in the Marvel Universe.
Not the center. Not the savior.
The contingency. The fulcrum.
And somewhere far away, threads he didn't even know yet—Hydra, Wakanda, the Maximoffs, the Winter Soldier—were already tightening, pulling toward him.