In the MCU/Marvel with the Omnitrix/Ultimatrix

Explaining the situation to Fisk proves... interesting.

"Interdimensional cultists," he repeats slowly, his massive frame silhouetted against his office windows. "Who believe my son is their god in mortal form."

"To be fair," I start, "this wasn't exactly part of the plan when we tested the communicator."

"Obviously not," he turns, and I catch something almost like amusement in his expression. "Though their reaction to learning I was your father was... enlightening."

"They appeared here?" Emma asks, her mental presence sharpening with interest.

"In my private study," Fisk confirms. "The moment they heard of our relationship, they became quite... enthusiastic. Apparently, being the mortal father chosen by their lord carries significant weight."

"They believed you just like that?" I ask incredulously.

"They said attempting to verify such claims through magical means would be blasphemy against their lord," Fisk's smile carries genuine amusement now. "Besides, they claim they can sense your power's protection around me - echoes of your soul's energy, as they put it."

Emma's mental voice carries dry humor. 'Well, that's convenient.' Though she herself also believed it, virtually the whole world believed it, perhaps only a handful didn't.

"They also noted that your unique nature makes conventional verification impossible anyway," Fisk continues. "Something about your DNA being beyond mortal understanding due to your... divine transformation abilities."

Great, a religious explanation on our explanation on why Fisk and my DNA are sometimes the same and not - courtesy of genetic manipulation of external DNA by the Ultimatrix. It was how we convinced the world after that we were father and son.

"Great," I mutter. "So now I have cultists who not only think I'm their god but are convinced you're my divinely chosen father."

"Indeed," and I swear Fisk actually looks pleased about this. "They were quite insistent about ensuring my 'sacred role' in your grand design would be honored."

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Perhaps," he admits. "Though you must admit, having devoted followers who consider harming your father a cosmic offense could prove... advantageous."

"Father-"

"Merely an observation," but his slight smile suggests otherwise.

"Though speaking of observations," Fisk continues, moving to his desk, "they left some rather interesting... gifts."

He reveals several ancient-looking scrolls and what appears to be a ceremonial dagger made of material I've never seen before.

"Apparently, these are 'sacred texts detailing their lord's previous manifestations' and a 'blade forged in divine fire for the mortal father's protection.'"

Emma's mental presence carries both amusement and curiosity. 'At least they're thoughtful cultists.'

"The texts are quite fascinating," Fisk adds, unrolling one scroll carefully. "They speak of your - or rather, Dagon's - previous interactions with reality. Though their interpretation of events is rather..."

"Biased?" I suggest.

"Enthusiastic," he corrects. "According to this, every major historical event was somehow part of their lord's grand design."

"Of course it was," I mutter. "Because having interdimensional stalkers wasn't enough - they had to be historically revisionist stalkers."

"They've also requested permission to establish a 'proper sanctuary' within the tower," Fisk continues, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Something about maintaining a sacred space for their lord's eventual awakening."

"Let me guess - Tony's already approved it just to mess with me?"

"Actually," Emma interjects, her mental voice carrying that particular tone that means I'm not going to like what comes next, "they're insisting on getting your father's blessing first. Something about 'respecting the divine hierarchy.'"

Fisk's expression confirms my worst fears. "I thought perhaps we could discuss appropriate locations..."

"No," I state firmly. "Absolutely not. We are not turning part of the tower into a temple."

"Of course not," Fisk agrees smoothly. "Though perhaps a small meditation room..."

"Father."

"They are quite insistent," he notes. "And having them congregate in a controlled space would be better than having them appear randomly throughout the building."

He has a point, but I'm not about to admit it.

"Besides," Fisk continues, examining the ceremonial dagger with interest, "they seem quite knowledgeable about various forms of power. Their insights could prove... valuable."

"You want to study interdimensional cultists for tactical advantages," I realize.

"Knowledge, my son, comes from unexpected sources." His smile carries that particular blend of paternal affection and calculated planning that I've come to recognize.

Emma's mental presence carries resignation. 'He's not wrong. Better to have them where we can watch them than popping up everywhere.'

"Fine," I concede. "But no altars, no sacrifices, and definitely no ceremonial anything."

"Of course," Fisk agrees, though his expression suggests he's already planning something. "Just a simple space for... cultural exchange."

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

'Because you are,' Emma sends privately. 'Though I have to admit, watching your father negotiate with interdimensional cultists might be worth it.'

--------------------------------

The "small meditation room" turns out to be an entire floor of Fisk Tower, because apparently my father's definition of "small" is very different from mine.

"This seems excessive," I note as we inspect the space. The Esoterica have already begun adding their touches - ancient symbols etched into walls that somehow shift when you look at them directly.

"Nonsense," Fisk replies, studying a particularly complex pattern with interest. "If we're hosting interdimensional visitors, we should do so properly."

Emma's mental presence carries amusement as she examines what looks like a floating crystal. 'At least their decorating style is interesting.'

"My lord," one of the Esoterica approaches, bowing deeply. "We hope the sacred space meets with your approval, even in your current... limited awareness."

"About that," I start, but they've already moved on to showing Fisk some kind of ancient text.

"These symbols," Fisk muses, "they represent different forms of power?"

"Indeed, honored father of our lord," the cultist replies eagerly. "Each pattern channels specific energies that-"

"Still not your lord," I interrupt. "And maybe we should discuss boundaries about randomly appearing in the tower?"

"Of course, divine one," they bow again. "We shall manifest only when summoned... unless it's an emergency... or a holy day... or when the signs indicate..."

'So basically whenever they want,' Emma sends privately.

"Exactly how many holy days are we talking about?" I ask, already dreading the answer.

The leader, who just materialized because apparently that's just something I have to get used to now, steps forward with religious fervor.

"Well..."

This is going to be a long day.

"Each celestial alignment brings its own sacred observances," the leader begins enthusiastically. "Then there are the commemorations of your previous manifestations, your Dragon form for example, though neved before have you forgone your awareness - not that I'm questioning your divine wisdom my Lord!" He states frantically at the end.

Seeing my calm, he continues " There are as well the celebrations of reality-altering events, the monthly devotional gatherings..."

"Monthly?" I interrupt. "As in, this is going to be a regular thing?"

"Of course, my lord," he beams. "Though your current mortal perspective might find our calendar... complex."

Emma's mental voice carries barely contained laughter. 'Congratulations. You have regularly scheduled worship sessions now.'

"Perhaps," Fisk interjects smoothly, "we should focus on establishing proper protocols first. Security considerations, appropriate manifestation zones..."

"Ah yes," the leader turns to Fisk with reverent respect. "We have already begun implementing protective measures worthy of our lord's chosen father."

As if on cue, more Esoterica appear, carrying what look like crystalline structures that pulse with otherworldly energy.

"These sacred barriers," one explains, "will ensure only the faithful can enter this space. Though of course, they recognize those marked by our lord's power..."

"Marked by my what now?" I ask, but they're already setting up the crystals while chanting in a language that makes my teeth ache.

'Your father looks way too interested in those security measures,' Emma notes mentally.

She's right. Fisk is watching the installation with that particular expression he gets when acquiring new assets.

"This is getting out of hand," I mutter.

"On the contrary," Fisk replies quietly. "I believe this could be quite... educational."

The leader approaches again, holding what appears to be an ancient calendar. "Now, about the scheduling of sacred observations..."

"Ah here it is, of course," the leader continues enthusiastically, "before anything, we must discuss the proper arrangements for the Celestial Convergence next month..."

"The what now?"

"A most sacred time," another Esoterica chimes in. "When the barriers between realities thin, allowing for greater manifestation of divine power..."

"Absolutely not," I state firmly. "No reality-bending ceremonies."

"Of course, my lord," they bow deeply. "Your wisdom in maintaining your mortal guise is profound. We shall simply observe quietly... with minimal reality fluctuation..."

Emma's mental presence carries both amusement and concern. 'Define minimal?'

Before they can answer, Tony's voice comes through the intercom: "Hey, god-boy! Your cultists are trying to consecrate my lab! Something about 'blessing the mortal tools that serve divine purpose.'"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "How many of you are there exactly?"

"We are sometimes everywhere and sometimes nowhere," the leader replies cryptically. "Though currently, only about fifty have manifested in this reality..."

"Fifty?!" 

"So far," he adds helpfully. "More will come for the sacred observations, of course."

Fisk looks far too pleased about this entire situation. "Perhaps we should discuss expanding the dedicated space..."

"No," I say firmly. "Absolutely not. This is already-"

"My lord," one of the Esoterica interrupts excitedly, "the sacred texts speak of your preference for grand temples in your previous manifestations..."

"That wasn't me!"

"Of course, divine one," they bow again. "Your current desire for subtlety is most wise..."

Emma's mental voice carries resignation. 'I don't think they're going to take 'no' for an answer.'

"Indeed not," the leader confirms, apparently having heard her somehow. "Our devotion transcends mere mortal denial."

Great. They can hear telepathic communication now.

"Only when it concerns our lord's divine nature," he adds helpfully.

"This is my life now, isn't it?" I ask no one in particular. "Interdimensional cultists who won't take 'no' for an answer and can apparently hear private conversations..."

"Only the relevant ones," they chorus together.

Fisk actually chuckles. "Well, son, you did want to make a difference in the world..."

"Multiple worlds," the Esoterica correct reverently. "Our lord's influence spans all realities..."

"I need a drink," I mutter.

"Ah yes," the leader brightens. "The sacred libations! We shall prepare the ceremonial-"

"No!"

Just another normal day of dealing with overly enthusiastic interdimensional worshippers, a crime boss father who's way too amused by all this, and the growing realization that my life is never going to be simple again.

At least they haven't started building statues yet.

"Actually, my lord," one of them begins hopefully.

"Don't even think about it."

The Ultimatrix pulses softly, almost like it's laughing at me.

Even my watch is enjoying this too much.

Perfect.

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(Author note: Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

So! How do you all find the esotherica? I'm having way too much fun with the comedic possibilities. In real life this would suck, I would geniunely hate it because of my own views on the existence of one God, but in ficiton, its hilarious.

So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)