Jayden Stark's POV
The fire had died days ago, but the memory burned fresh in my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces—the thugs screaming, their bodies turning to ash under my flames. I hadn't just fought them. I had killed them.
For the next few nights, I barely slept. Every sound outside my apartment made me flinch. Sirens in the distance, footsteps in the hallway, even the hum of the refrigerator felt like a threat. I kept expecting someone to knock on my door—police, SHIELD, maybe even Tony himself.
But no one came.
Instead, the incident spread across the news.
"Unexplained fire in Brooklyn," the anchor said, her voice calm, detached. "Five men presumed dead. Authorities suspect gang violence. Witnesses report seeing strange lights before the blaze."
I sat on the couch, hoodie pulled tight, watching the coverage. My heart raced, but then I realized something—the story wasn't about me. No one mentioned my name. No one connected the dots. To the world, I was invisible.
Relief washed over me, but paranoia lingered. What if someone had seen me? What if cameras had caught something? Brooklyn wasn't exactly short on surveillance.
I forced myself to breathe. Calm. If they had proof, they'd already be here.
The next few days blurred together. I stayed inside, only leaving when hunger forced me out. My job was gone, my routine shattered. All I had now was the Omnitrix.
It sat on my wrist, glowing faintly, embedded into my skin like a parasite. I couldn't take it off. I couldn't ignore it.
So I tested it.
At first, I tried the obvious—pressing the dial, twisting it, willing it to activate. Nothing happened. Unlike the original Omnitrix I remembered, this one didn't respond instinctively. It wasn't a tool I could control. It was part of me.
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. My pupils had changed—bright cyan, glowing faintly even in the dark. They weren't human anymore.
I clenched my fists, frustration boiling. "Come on," I muttered. "Work."
The device hummed, faintly, but no transformation came. It was like it was waiting, choosing its own moment.
That terrified me.
Hours turned into days. I sketched in my notebook, trying to distract myself, but every line turned into flames, alien silhouettes, or the Omnitrix itself. My mind kept circling back to it.
I remembered Heatblast—the rage, the fire, the loss of control. That wasn't me. I wasn't a killer. But when I transformed, it felt like something else had taken over.
And maybe that was exactly what had happened.
I didn't know it then, but the Omnitrix was changing me. Not just physically. Mentally. The personalities of the aliens weren't separate anymore. They were bleeding into me, mixing with my own thoughts.
I was becoming a ticking time bomb.
But that was a problem for another day.
For now, I tried to stay calm. The news had moved on, the city distracted by Tony Stark's disappearance. Everyone was focused on the billionaire playboy gone missing, not on some nameless fire in Brooklyn.
That gave me time.
Time to figure out what the Omnitrix was doing to me.
I sat at my desk, the device glowing faintly on my wrist. My scar caught the light, a reminder of the pain I'd lived through before. My abusive father had left his mark on me, but now the Omnitrix was carving something deeper.
I wasn't sure which scar would define me more.
The paranoia never left. Every knock on the door made me tense. Every shadow outside the window made me wonder if someone knew.
But no one came.
And slowly, I realized something.
I wasn't invisible because no one cared. I was invisible because the world didn't know what I had become.
That was my advantage.
And my curse.