In the MCU with the Omnitrix/Ultimatrix

The warehouse looms ahead like a concrete ghost, its weathered walls telling stories of better days. Graffiti crawls up the sides like urban ivy, and broken windows stare out like hollow eyes into the night.

My stolen phone's screen casts a pale glow as I double-check the location. This has to be it - the old seed warehouse on 12th, Silva's supposed domain.

I pull the black hoodie tighter, making sure my white hair and red eyes stay hidden. The last thing I need is to draw attention before I even get inside.

The entrance is a heavy metal door, rusted at the edges but still solid. Two guys flank it, trying hard to look casual while obviously being guards. Their hands rest too close to their waistbands to be anything else.

As I approach, one of them straightens up. "Lost, pretty boy?"

I keep my voice level, channeling every ounce of confidence I can muster. "Here to see Silva."

They exchange looks. The taller one spits on the ground. "Silva ain't seeing nobody tonight."

"Tell him it's about new papers. Full package." I pull out a thick wad of cash from the thugs I'd encountered earlier. "And I can make it worth everyone's time."

The shorter guard's eyes lock onto the money. He mutters something into a radio, waits, then nods reluctantly.

"Pat him down," the taller one orders.

I let them do their job, knowing the only real weapon I have is strapped to my wrist, disguised as a simple watch. They find nothing else and eventually wave me through.

Inside, the warehouse is a maze of shipping containers and old machinery. The air smells of rust and secrets. A figure emerges from the shadows - tall, lean, with silver-streaked hair and eyes that have seen too much.

"So," Silva's voice carries a hint of amusement, "you're the one causing trouble in my neighborhood. Heard about what happened to Dash's crew."

I meet his gaze steadily. "Just needed directions."

"So, what brings you to my parts of the neighbourhood?"

"I need papers. Complete identity package - birth certificate, social security, the works. I'm willing to pay." I say as I take off my hoodie.

Silva studies me with calculating eyes, a predatory smile slowly spreading across his features. "Papers, huh?" He gestures toward his makeshift office. "Let's discuss this somewhere more... private."

The office is cramped, with harsh fluorescent lights casting unforgiving shadows. Silva settles behind his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

"You know," he starts, eyes narrowing, "when someone asks around for papers, I expect some desperate immigrant or runaway kid." He pauses meaningfully. "Not someone who looks like they walked out of a high-end modeling agency."

I shift slightly, the Ultimatrix a reassuring weight on my wrist. "I just need the papers. Money won't be an issue."

Silva's smile widens. "Your... unique features," he gestures vaguely toward my concealed appearance, "combined with no identity, no history..." He lets out a low whistle. "Do you know what some people would pay for someone like you?"

The air in the room suddenly feels thicker. Silva presses a button under his desk, and the door bursts open. Six armed guards flood in - the two from outside and four more I hadn't noticed before.

"Restrain him," Silva orders, standing with practiced confidence. "Gently, though. Don't want to damage the merchandise."

Two guards grab my arms while Silva begins his monologue. "You see, there's a very exclusive market for unique individuals like yourself. The Kingpin - my real employer - has connections with certain wealthy clients who appreciate... exotic acquisitions."

I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "You really should have asked what I can do before trying this."

The Ultimatrix's enhancement of my physical abilities makes breaking free almost embarrassingly easy. I snap my arms outward, sending both guards stumbling backward with enough force to crack the wall behind them.

"What the-" Silva starts, but I'm already moving.

My fist connects with one guard's jaw while my elbow finds another's solar plexus. They drop like stones. The remaining four raise their weapons, but they're too slow.

"You want to see exotic?" I growl, activating the Ultimatrix. "Let me show you something really special."

The transformation is instant and overwhelming - bone and muscle expanding, skin hardening into scales. I grow until my head nearly touches the warehouse ceiling, Humungousaur's massive form towering over the now-terrified humans.

"Holy shit!" one guard screams, his gun clattering to the floor.

"Boss, what the fuck is this thing?!" another shouts, backing away.

The next few moments are pure chaos. I swat two guards aside with a sweep of my arm, sending them crashing through the office wall. Another tries to shoot, but I catch him mid-motion, crushing his weapon like it's made of paper before tossing him into his remaining colleague.

When the dust settles, Silva is cowering in the corner, his expensive suit covered in debris. His eyes are wide with terror as I lean down, my massive face inches from his.

"Now," I rumble in Humungousaur's deep voice, "let's talk about the truth."

"The Kingpin!" Silva blurts out, hands raised in surrender. "He's the one you need! I'm nobody - just a recruiter! He has the real connections, the real power to get you what you need!"

I let out a low growl. "And why should I believe you now?"

"Because he's the only one who can actually help someone like you!" Silva's voice cracks with desperation. "Someone who can turn into... into this! You need someone with real power, real influence. Someone who can keep secrets."

I consider his words, slowly reverting to my human form. The transformation seems to terrify Silva even more than my dinosaur form did.

"Wilson Fisk himself," I say slowly, watching his reaction.

Silva nods frantically. "He has operations all over the city. Legitimate ones too. He can give you everything - identity, background, protection. The kind of paperwork that'll stand up to any scrutiny."

I grab him by his collar. "And the price?"

"Just... Probably just a meeting. That's all, I swear! He'll want to see what you can do himself."

I release him, and detransform, while watching as he slumps against the wall. "Set it up. And Silva?" I activate the Ultimatrix again, letting its glow illuminate my face. "If you're lying to me again..."

"I'm not! I swear on my life!"

As I turn to leave, stepping over the groaning guards, Silva's trembling voice follows me: "What... what are you?"

I pause as I begin to lean against the wall, considering my answer. "Someone who's already tired of people trying to sell him."

Silva afterwards immediately scrambles to his laptop, hands shaking as he opens it. "Okay- uh, please don't mind, but I- Let me... let me show him right now. The security footage..."

He types frantically, sending the video feed of what just happened. "He needs to see this. Only way he'll want to meet you"

I stay silent - finding that permission enough as I cross my arms, watching him work. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as Silva makes a call, his voice steadier now but still edged with urgency.

"Sir... yes, I know it's late, but you need to see this footage. I'm sending it now." A pause. "Yes, sir. He's still here. No, sir, not a mutant-" He states as he then turns to me and whispers, "Are you a mutant," To which I shake my head.

"He's something else entirely."

The silence that follows is heavy. Silva's expression shifts from fear to something approaching awe as he listens to the voice on the other end.

"Yes, sir. I understand. Right away, sir." He ends the call and looks up at me. "The Kingpin... he's coming here. Now."

I raise an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"You don't understand," Silva says, straightening his tie with trembling fingers. "The Kingpin doesn't come to anyone. But what you can do... he wants to see it in person."

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes. His penthouse isn't far." Silva begins clearing debris from his desk. "He's bringing his personal security detail. Please... don't do that thing again unless he asks. I'd rather not have any more walls destroyed."

I settle into a chair, keeping my eyes on Silva. "Tell me about him. What should I expect?"

Silva's laugh is nervous. "The Kingpin? He's... he's not what most people expect. Don't let his appearance fool you.

The man's brilliant, ruthless, and always three steps ahead. And now," he glances at the Ultimatrix, "he's very, very interested in you."

The minutes tick by slowly as we wait, the groaning of injured guards the only sound breaking the tense silence. Soon, the real game would begin.

Soon enough the sound of multiple vehicles pulling up outside breaks the tense silence. Silva straightens immediately, his face a mixture of fear and reverence.

"He's here," Silva whispers, unnecessarily.

Heavy footsteps echo through the warehouse, accompanied by the measured pace of what must be at least a dozen men. The door to the office opens, and the massive frame of Wilson Fisk fills the entrance.

The Kingpin is exactly as imposing as the comics portrayed him - a mountain of a man in an immaculate white suit. His presence seems to make the room smaller, and his calculating eyes fix on me with laser-like intensity.

"So," his voice is surprisingly cultured, "you're the one who turned into that... interesting creature." He steps inside, flanked by four men in black suits. "I must say, the security footage was quite impressive."

I remain seated, maintaining eye contact. "I need papers. Real ones. Silva says you're the man who can make that happen."

Fisk's lips curl into a slight smile. "Straight to business. I appreciate that." He gestures, and one of his men brings forward a chair sturdy enough to support his frame. "Though I must admit, I'm more interested in how someone with your... abilities comes to need such services."

"I'm not from around here," I reply carefully. "And I need to establish myself legally."

"Clearly." Fisk studies me with unnerving focus. "The white hair, the red eyes - natural features, I assume? Combined with your transformation abilities... you're quite the mystery."

He leans forward slightly. "Show me."

I stand slowly, making sure his guards don't get jumpy. "You might want to step back. Humungousaur takes up a lot of space."

Fisk nods, and his guards create space. I activate the Ultimatrix, and once again, the transformation takes hold. My body expands, muscles and bones growing, skin hardening into scales until Humungousaur's massive form dominates the room.

The guards instantly draw their weapons, but Fisk raises a hand, stopping them. His expression remains unchanged, but there's a glint of fascination in his eyes.

"Remarkable," he says, standing to better observe my transformed state. "Not a mutant ability, I presume? This seems more... technological in nature." His gaze fixes on the Ultimatrix symbol on my chest.

I revert to human form, the change just as smooth as before. "It's complicated."

"I imagine it is." Fisk settles back into his chair. "You understand, of course, that creating a completely new identity in today's digital age is no small feat. Especially one that would withstand serious scrutiny."

"I can pay-" I begin, but Fisk waves his hand dismissively.

"Money isn't the issue here. What interests me is potential." He clasps his hands together. "I could provide you with everything you need - identity, background, even a legitimate position in one of my companies. But I'd expect certain... favors in return."

"I'm not interested in becoming an enforcer," I state firmly.

Fisk actually chuckles at this. "My dear boy, with your abilities, using you as mere muscle would be a waste. No, I'm thinking of something far more sophisticated. Something that would benefit us both while maintaining your... public respectability."

He walks back to his chair, settling his massive frame with deliberate grace. "Tell me, what do you know about public perception?"

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"In this new era of Iron Man and emerging heroes, the public craves symbols. Icons." Fisk leans forward slightly.

"What they don't realize is that every hero needs infrastructure, funding, support. Even Tony Stark, with all his billions, needs his corporate empire to maintain his heroic endeavors."

Now I understand where this is going. "You want to create your own superhero."

"Precisely." Fisk's smile broadens. "Think about it - a mysterious new hero, funded by legitimate businesses, protecting the city. The public gets their symbol, and the businesses backing this hero gain tremendous goodwill and influence."

He gestures to me. "Your abilities are perfect for this. Spectacular enough to capture attention, versatile enough to handle various threats. With your unique appearance, you already look the part of something extraordinary."

"And you'd be the secret benefactor," I say, connecting the dots.

"Indeed. I provide you with everything - identity, resources, equipment, intel. You become the hero this city needs, while my organization's public image benefits from our discreet association." He pauses meaningfully.

"And of course, there might be times when this hero could be... selectively unavailable during certain business operations."

I consider Fisk's proposal carefully.

True, I could strong-arm him right now, force him to provide what I need, or even use Graymatter's intelligence to forge my own path with the technology he'd be forced to provide.

But there's something more valuable at play here.

"I accept," I say, watching Fisk's expression carefully. "But I maintain full autonomy over my activities. I don't aid you in any way in anything illegal or immoral and I choose which situations to intervene in."

Fisk nods, clearly pleased. "Of course. A hero must maintain his integrity."

My mind races through the strategic advantages.

Having the Kingpin as a backer means access to criminal intelligence networks, advance warning of major threats, and most importantly - insight into the power players of this universe.

In a world where Thanos and other cosmic threats loom on the horizon, having an inside track on both the criminal underworld and legitimate business spheres may seem small, but in actuality could prove invaluable.

Plus, there's the matter of preparation. Building a support network, understanding the city's underbelly, and positioning myself before the bigger threats emerge - all while maintaining a heroic public image that could give me credibility with the Avengers when they eventually form.

Even if they know the Kingpin is backing me, it won't truly matter, S.H.I.E.L.D. has settled for worse, so long as I am 'loyal' to the cause, which I will prove to be, as this is my new home, until I find a way to return to my own world.

"We'll need to discuss the details," I say. "Costume design, public narrative, operational parameters."

"Naturally." Fisk stands, adjusting his suit jacket. "I have some ideas about your origin story - something that explains your unique appearance while garnering public sympathy. Perhaps a victim of experimental genetics who chose to use his gifts for good?"

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Do tell me how you found it?

I find that I chose quite an interesting premise and one that could actually make sense, since the Kingpin really cares about public image and all that.

The question whether he was a mutant or not, because of the whole fear of them.

So yeah, do tell me how you found it,

please comment and review and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)