In the MCU with the Omnitrix/Ultimatrix

A soft chime from my laptop interrupts my thoughts. Another news alert - this time showing cell phone footage of my transformation from Humungousaur to XLR8 during the fight. The comments section is blowing up:

"holy shit did he just turn into something completely different mid-fight?"

"that dinosaur thing looks strong af but that speed creature is terrifying"

"anyone else notice he's getting better at fighting? that takedown was clean"

"fake news. clearly CGI. wake up sheeple"

"bruh moment when he yeeted that guard into the container lmaooo"

I close the laptop, but not before catching a glimpse of a Reddit megathread analyzing my powers. Between wild conspiracy theories and heated debates, they're trying to figure out if I'm a mutant, a government experiment, or something else entirely.

The Ultimatrix pulses softly on my wrist, and I can't help but think about how absurd this all is. Three weeks ago, I was a normal person. Now I'm the son of New York's most powerful crime boss, a public hero, and the wielder of the universe's most powerful device.

My phone buzzes with a PR update: "GMA and Today Show requesting appearances. Will send talking points by morning."

Great. Because what every hero needs after a night of fighting crime is morning show banter about their favorite breakfast cereal.

I head to my bedroom, passing the wall of monitors Fisk installed. Each screen shows different angles of tonight's operation - news coverage, social media reactions, police band chatter.

One catches my eye: a TikTok of me transforming has already hit 12 million views.

"@ShiftSightings just posted this!!! (Dinosaur > human emoji) #Shift #NYCHero #WTF"

"Bros faster than the video can track (skull emoji) "

"That dinosaur form tho >>>"

The morning shows can wait. Right now, I need to process what happened at the docks. The fighting is getting easier - the Ultimatrix's combat instincts flowing more naturally with each transformation. But it's the other stuff that's complicated.

I pull up the footage of me protecting the civilians. The move was instinctive, not calculated. Yet it played perfectly into Fisk's narrative. Am I becoming the hero he wants me to be, or am I actually becoming a hero despite his plans?

A notification pops up on my secure tablet - schematics for tomorrow's facility tour. Advanced weapons research, experimental defense systems, and something called "Project Echo." Fisk is really opening his doors to me.

My burner phone lights up with a text from an encrypted number: "Interesting tech you used tonight. Still up for that lab visit? - TS"

Stark isn't going to let this go. And part of me doesn't want him to. Because despite everything Fisk has given me, despite all his resources and protection, I can't shake the feeling that I'll need more allies for whatever's coming.

"One problem at a time," I mutter, watching police lights flash in the distance. Just another night in New York, where a guy with an alien watch plays hero while working for a crime boss he calls father.

What could possibly go wrong?

A sudden explosion echoes across the city, distant but significant enough to make my windows rattle. The monitors automatically switch to local news feeds - a gas line rupture in Queens, multiple buildings affected.

Perfect. Just when I thought I could get some rest.

I'm already moving toward the window when my "official" phone rings. Fisk.

"I see it," I answer.

"This isn't a planned event," he says, his tone measured. "But the timing could work in our favor. The morning shows can wait - a hero who sacrifices sleep to save lives makes for better headlines."

I activate the Ultimatrix. "Already on it. Though we should talk about installing a better alert system. I can't keep relying on explosions to tell me where I'm needed."

"We'll discuss it during tomorrow's facility tour. For now, focus on the task at hand. And Samael?" He pauses. "Try to keep property damage to a minimum this time."

I transform into XLR8, the world slowing around me. "No promises."

As I race toward Queens, my enhanced speed letting me process information faster, I can't help but think about how quickly this has become my new normal. Racing toward danger, juggling public appearances, playing the dutiful son to a crime boss while secretly planning contingencies.

The explosion site comes into view - three buildings affected, fire spreading, civilians trapped. Time to go to work.

"Let's give those morning shows something worth talking about."

As XLR8, I reach the scene in seconds. The situation is worse up close - fire engulfing multiple floors, structural damage threatening collapse, and panicked civilians everywhere.

First responders are just arriving, which means I have a clear field to work. I switch to Humungousaur - not for fighting this time, but for strength and durability.

"Anyone inside?" I ask the nearest firefighter, who's still gaping at my transformation.

"Third floor, east side," he manages. "Family of four, but the stairs are gone-"

I'm already moving, using my size to create a path through the debris. The smoke is thick, but Humungousaur's enhanced senses help me navigate. I find them huddled in a bathroom - parents, two kids, all conscious but trapped.

"Hey there," I try to sound reassuring despite my massive form. "Who wants a ride?"

The younger kid actually grins despite the situation. "Cool! Mom, it's the dinosaur guy!"

I get them out just as another section of the building groans ominously. More civilians need evacuation from adjacent buildings, but the structural damage is spreading too fast for Humungousaur's methodical approach.

Time to switch tactics.

I hit the Ultimatrix symbol, transforming into XLR8 again. "I'll clear the buildings," I tell the fire chief. "Just be ready to receive them."

The next few minutes are a blur of speed and precision. Each trip takes less than a second from my perspective - grab civilians, get them to safety, repeat. The Ultimatrix's instincts help me adjust my speed for different situations - slower for elderly residents, careful acceleration with injured people.

With the buildings evacuated, I face the growing inferno. The gas line is still feeding the fire, and conventional firefighting methods aren't cutting it.

"We can't get close enough!" a firefighter shouts over the roar of flames. "The heat's too intense!"

An idea strikes me. "Everyone stand back!" 

I hit the Ultimatrix symbol again, this time transforming into Terraspin. Some onlookers gasp - it's my first public use of this form. The turtle-like alien might look less impressive than Humungousaur, but for this situation, it's perfect.

"What's he doing?" someone in the crowd asks.

They get their answer as my limbs retract and I begin to spin. Slowly at first, then faster, creating a massive vortex of wind. The Ultimatrix's instincts guide me in controlling the airflow, turning my rotation into a precise tool rather than just raw force.

The effect is immediate. My wind tunnel starts sucking oxygen away from the flames while simultaneously cooling the area. The fire fights back, but physics is physics - without oxygen, even the worst inferno can't survive.

I increase my rotation speed, feeling the strain but maintaining control. The flames begin to die out, first at the edges, then working inward. The firefighters, catching on quickly, use this opportunity to move in with their equipment, targeting the remaining hotspots.

"Holy shit, he's actually doing it!"

"Is there anything this guy can't turn into?"

"Someone get this on video!"

Finally, the last flames sputter out. I stop spinning, transforming back to human form as emergency crews rush in to secure the gas line.

The fire chief approaches me, his face a mix of amazement and professional curiosity. "That's one hell of a trick. Never seen anything like it."

"Just glad I could help," I respond, noting the news crews already setting up. Three weeks ago, I'd have been terrified of public speaking. Now it's just another part of the job.

"Four buildings saved, no casualties," he continues. "Though I have to ask - how many different forms do you have?"

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. A text from Fisk: "Well handled. Channel 7 is live. Make it count."

Right on cue, reporters swarm forward. Phones and cameras record every angle as someone shouts, "Shift! Is this a new power we're seeing?"

"Just another tool in the arsenal," I reply, falling into the practiced rhythm of hero-speak. "When you're given abilities like these, you learn to think creatively."

"Was this connected to the dock incident earlier?"

"No connection. Just a regular New York night." I manage a tired smile. "Though I should thank the fire department and first responders. They're the real heroes here."

The chief nods appreciatively. Good PR for everyone - exactly as Fisk and me would want.

My phone buzzes again. Another message from the encrypted number: "Wind manipulation too? We really need to talk. - TS"

A child's voice cuts through the media circus: "Can you show us the dinosaur again?"

Several reporters chuckle, but I notice the kid from the bathroom rescue earlier, still wrapped in an emergency blanket. His eyes shine with genuine wonder, not just at the spectacle, but at the idea that someone saved his family.

For a moment, all the complications - Fisk, Stark, the politics of being a hero - fade away. This is what it's really about.

"Sorry, buddy," I smile. "The dinosaur needs some rest. But hey-" I crouch down to his level, "thanks for being brave up there."

His grin could power the whole block.

More camera flashes, more questions, but I'm running on fumes now. "If you'll excuse me, there's a gas line that needs attention, and these first responders have work to do."

I transform into XLR8 one last time, giving the cameras their final shot before racing away. The world blurs past as I head back to Fisk Tower, my mind already on tomorrow's facility tour and whatever "Project Echo" might be.

Landing on my balcony, I transform back just as sunrise begins painting the sky. My phone shows dozens of notifications:

- 47 missed calls

- 156 new messages

- #ShiftSaves trending nationwide

- Morning show producers getting desperate

- Another message from Stark

And one text from Fisk: "Breakfast meeting, 7 AM. We need to discuss your expanding portfolio of abilities."

I collapse onto my bed, not bothering to change. "Computer, set alarm for 6:30."

As exhaustion takes over, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Just another night in the life of a fake hero doing real good while working for a real villain.

At least tomorrow can't be more complicated.

Right?

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

As promised in the tags, there will be a lot of slice of life in this fanfic.

I also find writing this Samael with a confusion on whether he is a real hero or a fake something interesting to do, so do tell me how you find it.

So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)