Of Aliens, Magic, and Superheroes

The world still didn't have an answer.

It had been weeks since Subject X had been burned into the collective consciousness of the public. The 9/11 incident had already become one of the most analyzed events in history, but there was one aspect no one could explain.

The being that had stopped four hijacked planes.

Television screens replayed grainy footage of blurred figures moving at inhuman speeds, phasing through solid steel, and catching planes mid-air.

And with every replay, the questions grew louder.

Was it an advanced government project?

Was it extraterrestrial?

Was it a new kind of superhuman?

No one had a definitive answer.

Ben scrolled through online forums and news articles from his dorm, the glow of the laptop screen reflecting off his focused eyes. His multi-monitor setup was filled with live discussion panels, debate shows, and chatroom threads all arguing over the same impossible event.

 Some claimed it was divine intervention.

 Others argued it was proof of an alien presence.

 The military remained silent, refusing to confirm or deny anything.

A panel discussion played in the background.

A retired scientist adjusted his glasses. "For years, we've speculated about hidden sciences beyond our understanding. Today, we have proof."

A military analyst frowned. "And that's the problem. We don't know what this thing is. We don't know its purpose. If it can save thousands, it can also destroy thousands."

A journalist interjected, "But we have no proof that it's hostile. All evidence suggests it saved lives."

The scientist nodded. "What we do know is that this entity operates far beyond the limitations of known science. It doesn't just surpass human ability—it exists in an entirely different category."

The debate raged on, with no consensus.

And in homes across America, in bars, workplaces, and schools, people asked the same questions.

What is it?

Will it return?

Is it truly on our side?

Ben sighed. This was exactly why he needed to move now.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Governments weren't handling this well.

Gideon's voice chimed in through his earpiece. "Multiple intelligence agencies have increased passive surveillance efforts in major cities. However, no focused operation has been initiated to track Subject X, as no viable leads exist. Hydra appears to be taking interest but remains in the shadows, observing without direct involvement."

That was good.

They had no leads, no pattern, no way to trace his actions.

The Pentagon, MI6, Mossad, and every major intelligence force were all grasping at straws.

✔ No biological data had been retrieved. (Ben made sure he retrieved the pieces of Diamondhead)

✔ No consistent energy signatures were detected.

✔ No public statements were made—because no one wanted to admit they knew nothing.

But behind closed doors, governments were preparing for the unknown.

Some feared it was a secret U.S. superweapon.

Others believed it was something even more dangerous.

For the first time in history, every major power was on edge over the same thing.

And none of them knew what to do.

Ben exhaled slowly. He had expected this reaction.

The world had always feared the unknown.

And today, for the first time, the unknown feared it back.

He leaned back in his chair, closing a news tab before turning his focus to the research paper on his screen.

It was a detailed study on next-generation cybersecurity.

It proposed layered encryption methods with adaptive key scrambling.

It was just advanced enough to get noticed, but not suspiciously revolutionary.

This was the first step toward making Benjamin Tennyson a public figure—one that had nothing to do with Subject X.

The world was watching.

It was time to give them something else to see.

With a final keystroke, he submitted the paper to MIT's research archive.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben scrolled through his inbox, eyes narrowing as he analyzed the responses flooding in from his recently published cybersecurity research paper.

It had been just over a week since its submission, and already, the academic and corporate sectors were taking notice.

Most responses were from universities and private research firms, but the more concerning ones came from major corporations.

Some of the most notable emails included:

Empire State University, whose research team had cited his work in a financial security paper.

A cybersecurity startup in New York, asking if he was interested in future collaboration.

Rand Industries, exploring potential applications in high-security financial transactions.

Alchemax, which had flagged his work but hadn't reached out yet.

Roxxon Tech Security, a subsidiary of Roxxon Energy, offering a licensing deal.

Ben wasn't surprised by the attention. His encryption method was solid, and while it wasn't revolutionary, it was a step ahead of the curve.

Still, one company stood out, and not in a good way. Roxxon.

He knew their reputation, from both his memories and this world's news. They weren't as openly aggressive as Oscorp, nor as public-facing as Stark Industries, but their corporate history was riddled with questionable business dealings, legal loopholes, and government contracts that leaned dangerously close to black ops.

The fact that they had been one of the first to offer a licensing deal meant they saw value in his work. And that was a problem.

Ben leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk. He had a choice to make.

 -X-X-X-X-X-

The next morning, as Ben walked across campus, Gideon's voice filtered through his earpiece.

"An internal R&D researcher at Stark Industries flagged the cybersecurity paper for review, likely as part of their general data collection on emerging technologies. No formal company action has been recorded, and no outreach attempts have been made."

Ben smirked slightly. Now that's interesting.

This wasn't Stark himself. It wasn't even a corporate executive. It was just one of Stark Industries' mid-level researchers quietly pulling his work into their files.

Meaning?

They were watching.

It's a seed. Not a deal, not a direct approach—but now, his name was somewhere in their system.

"Anything from Oscorp?" Ben asked.

"No activity yet," Gideon replied.

That was fine. Stark was years away from anything AI-related. This was a passive recognition at best.

Ben mentally shelved it for later. They'll come back when they need something.

By the second week, the licensing offers had fully materialized.

Roxxon Tech Security had sent over a contract for exclusive rights, offering a lucrative deal that would put a substantial amount of money in his pocket upfront.

But that also meant he'd lose all control over his own work.

Ben shook his head. That wasn't happening.

Instead of rejecting them outright, he crafted a counteroffer—one that restricted how much access they had to the encryption framework. Instead of a full end-to-end adaptive encryption system, they would only get a limited version suited for basic corporate security.

If they wanted more? They'd have to renegotiate on his terms.

He wasn't about to give a morally gray corporation like Roxxon full control over his tech.

He sent the revised contract back and turned his attention to the other offers.

By the end of the month, the deal was sealed.

Ben had officially signed three separate licensing agreements:

Rand Industries – Using his encryption model for secure business transactions.

A New York cybersecurity startup – Integrating parts of his work into their firewall systems.

Roxxon Tech Security – A stripped-down version of his encryption, ensuring they couldn't weaponize it.

Gideon's voice chimed in as he finalized the agreements.

"Projected financial return is stable. Royalty-based structures will provide long-term revenue while maintaining independence."

Ben let out a slow breath. This was the first real step.

He was now earning money under his own name. He had established credibility in both academic and corporate circles.

And most importantly?

None of it could be traced back to Subject X.

This was how he started shaping his public identity.

With the last document uploaded, Ben leaned back in his chair.

This was just the beginning.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben sat at the dining table, watching as his father flipped through the stack of mail. Most of it was the usual—bills, advertisements, and a couple of magazines. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Thanksgiving break had given him a chance to come home for a few days, and while he enjoyed being back, he could already tell that his parents were still adjusting to how fast things were changing for him.

Carl flipped through the stack of mail at the dining table, tossing aside bills and advertisements—until his hand froze over an envelope.

A thicker, official-looking envelope.

With Ben's name on it.

"...Ben?" Carl said, holding it up. "This one's for you. Looks important."

Ben calmly reached for it, but his heart was already racing. He knew what this was.

His first paycheck.

His first real paycheck.

As he carefully tore open the envelope, his mother leaned in, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

A printed statement. A direct deposit confirmation.

The number at the bottom.

Carl's eyes flicked between the paper and his son. He opened his mouth, closed it, then let out a low whistle. "Ben, this is serious money."

Sandra put down her coffee. "Carl, what is it?"

Carl's eyes flicked between the paper and his son, expression shifting between confusion and—something else.

Pride? Shock?

"This isn't pocket change," Carl finally muttered, sliding the paper to Sandra.

Sandra took it, scanned the amount—and immediately looked back at Ben.

"...Ben?"

Ben smiled, a little awkwardly. "I told you guys I published research."

Carl exhaled. "Yeah, but—hell, I thought you'd make a few hundred bucks, maybe. This is... What are you, a Fortune 500 CEO now?"

Ben laughed. "Not yet."

Sandra frowned slightly, still trying to process it. "I thought… I mean, I know you're talented, but I didn't think you were already at this level."

Ben leaned back, offering a small smile. "MIT has a lot of connections, and I got lucky. It's just a licensing agreement—companies use the encryption system, and I get a percentage."

Carl gave him a sceptical look, but there was also something else—pride. "So, what's next? You going to start buying sports cars now?"

Ben snorted. "Not exactly. I was thinking of putting some of it into savings, using a portion for school expenses, and maybe setting aside a little for something long-term."

Sandra looked over the numbers again, then at him. "And you're sure this is all legal?"

"Completely legal," Ben assured her. "MIT wouldn't let me submit something shady."

Carl shook his head, still amused. "You know, at this rate, you're going to be a millionaire before you turn eighteen."

Ben chuckled. "That's the plan."

His mother rolled her eyes but smiled. "Well, just don't let it go to your head."

Ben hesitated for a moment before reaching into his folder. "Actually, I wanted to give something back."

He pulled out a check with both their names on it.

Sandra blinked. "Ben, what is this?"

"Just a portion of what I earned," he said. "You and Dad have done everything for me. It's only fair I help out where I can."

Carl shook his head. "Ben, you don't have to—"

"I know," Ben interrupted. "But I want to. Think of it as me covering some bills for once."

Sandra looked at the check again, and for a moment, she seemed lost for words.

Then, she reached out and squeezed his hand. "You really are growing up, aren't you?"

Ben smirked. "Took you this long to notice?"

Carl laughed. "Alright, alright. Just don't start acting like some big-shot businessman yet. You're still my kid."

Ben grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

As the conversation moved on to other topics, he leaned back, satisfied.

His public identity was taking shape.

His financial independence was secured.

And his family was proud of him.

This was exactly how he wanted things to be.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ben sat on his bed, laptop resting on his legs as he scrolled through the latest updates from Gideon. The Thanksgiving break had been a much-needed change of pace, but it was almost time to return to MIT. Before that, though, he had one last matter to check.

Harry Potter.

It had been well over a year since he had self-published Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone through a small online eBook platform. At the time, he had focused on making it look professional, with Gideon handling formatting, cover design, and basic promotional efforts. But between his rapid academic acceleration, vigilante work, and tech research, the book had taken a backseat. Now, he was seeing the long-term results.

"Sales report for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone—units sold have been steadily increasing over the last six months. Current total sales stand at approximately 53,000 copies," Gideon's voice chimed through his earpiece.

Ben raised an eyebrow. That was more than he expected. "Where's most of the traction coming from?"

"Online book clubs and independent review sites," Gideon replied. "A few prominent fantasy discussion boards have been sharing recommendations, increasing visibility. Additionally, the book has gained minor traction in physical reprints through print-on-demand services."

Ben hummed. That made sense. Unlike Vista or his research papers, which had gained rapid attention through tech communities, Harry Potter was something that required slow-burn, word-of-mouth recognition.

"Any notable reviews?"

Gideon pulled up several. "The general consensus is overwhelmingly positive. Common praise includes the imaginative world-building and strong character dynamics. Some reviews, however, question whether this is truly a debut work. A few speculate that it was ghostwritten by an established author."

Ben chuckled. "That's fair. I guess it's not every day someone writes a book like this out of nowhere."

He tapped his fingers against the laptop keyboard, considering his next move. Gideon's voice continued, "Projected growth indicates steady traction through online word-of-mouth and independent book clubs. While sales are increasing, the book remains a niche success rather than a mainstream phenomenon."

"Yeah, but do I really want to push it?" Ben muttered.

The truth was, his tech ventures were far more important to him than trying to build a publishing career. While he knew Harry Potter had the potential to be a global sensation, the idea of juggling a public literary persona alongside everything else felt like a hassle. Besides, he wasn't even using his real name on the book. It had been published under a pseudonym, ensuring no direct connection to Benjamin Tennyson.

After a moment, he leaned back in his chair. "Let's leave it as passive income for now. No need to mess with the momentum."

"Understood," Gideon responded. "Would you like automated monitoring for future sales patterns?"

"Yeah. Just let me know if it spikes or if anything weird happens."

With that settled, Ben closed the laptop, rolling his shoulders. It was time to get back to what really mattered—his education, his research, and his long-term plans. He had big things to build.

And he was just getting started.

-X-X-X-X-X-

The transition from Thanksgiving break back to MIT life was smooth. With final exams approaching and research projects underway, the campus had settled into its usual cycle of academic rigor.

But outside of academia, the world was still paying attention to Subject X.

Ben walked across the MIT campus, hands in his pockets, his mind running through the next steps of his plan. The global panic had eased, but the Vigilante—the shape-shifting, superpowered being—was still making headlines.

As Ben scrolled past headlines, he saw the usual mix of reports—an armored figure saving civilians from a fire, a shadowy blur stopping a car accident, and conflicting witness descriptions of the vigilante. The public was still divided, but the fear had softened into curiosity.

Some experts believed the creature was just one being with multiple forms, while others theorized it was an entire group working together.

The lack of an official statement from the government only fueled further conspiracy theories. Some claimed it was a rogue military experiment, others argued it was an extraterrestrial protecting humanity, and a few even suggested it was an AI-driven bioform designed in secret.

But without another global event like 9/11 or Iceland, most people had shifted to passive curiosity rather than outright panic.

For Ben, that was exactly what he wanted.

Inside his dorm, Gideon's voice activated the moment he closed the door. "Incoming inquiries related to your research. Several institutions have cited your previous work, and there have been requests for collaboration."

Ben sat down, pulling up the list of emails. Several universities wanted him to contribute to cybersecurity think tanks, some companies were inquiring about potential internship opportunities, and a few well-known professors had reached out, showing interest in working with him on future projects.

None of it was unexpected, but it reinforced one thing—his name was gaining traction.

"Any promising opportunities?" he asked, opening a bottle of water as he scanned the screen.

"One in particular," Gideon noted. "A request from a researcher affiliated with Stark Industries. They are interested in discussing applications of your encryption model in AI security frameworks."

Ben paused mid-sip. Stark Industries? That was earlier than expected. He hadn't anticipated direct contact from anyone even remotely tied to Tony Stark for at least another year.

"Do they specify what division?"

"Only that the request is from a mid-level researcher, not a corporate executive. It is likely an exploratory reach-out rather than a formal offer."

That made sense. Stark Industries was a juggernaut in the tech world, and Tony himself was still more focused on engineering than cybersecurity at this stage. If someone lower on the corporate chain had reached out, it was probably just preliminary interest, not an official recruitment attempt.

"Flag it, but don't respond yet," Ben decided. "I don't want to look too eager."

"Understood," Gideon acknowledged.

Ben turned his attention to the next task—his next research paper.

His first paper had been a success, proving that he could make waves in the academic and tech industries. But if he wanted to solidify his name as a rising mind in technology, his next project needed to be bigger.

He leaned back, staring at the blank document on his screen. There were plenty of directions he could go—quantum encryption, early AI advancements, or something completely unexpected.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Final exams had wrapped up, and the campus had settled into a slower pace as students began leaving for the holidays.

For Ben, it was time to move forward.

Inside his dorm room, multiple holographic screens floated in midair, filled with data models, mathematical formulas, and theoretical frameworks.

Gideon's voice chimed in. "Initial research compilation complete. Based on your previous considerations, the three most viable directions for your next paper are as follows—"

Three sets of data were highlighted.

Quantum-enhanced encryption protocols (an evolution of his previous research).

AI-assisted predictive modeling (early foundations of machine learning in advanced analytics).

An advanced materials study (based on his knowledge of Plumber and Galvan tech).

Ben stroked his chin, leaning back in his chair. Each had its merits.

The first would establish him further in the cybersecurity field. The second would make waves in both academia and industry. And the third… well, that could shake up engineering completely.

"Give me the pros and cons," Ben said.

"Quantum-enhanced encryption: Highly valuable in cybersecurity, but recent advancements are still theoretical. Breakthroughs would be recognized but may take years for full adoption."

Ben nodded. That meant long-term impact, but slower recognition.

"AI-assisted predictive modeling: The industry is already exploring rudimentary applications, but no clear direction has been set. This would place you at the forefront of machine learning research, making you a leader in the field."

That was promising—AI had yet to become a dominant force, meaning Ben could influence its early trajectory.

"And the last?"

"Advanced materials study: The most ambitious. Potential breakthroughs could revolutionize aerospace, medicine, and structural engineering. However, certain elements may raise security concerns due to their potential military applications."

Ben exhaled. That was the problem.

If he pushed too far with the materials study, he'd gain too much attention—government oversight, corporate interference, maybe even classified-level scrutiny.

He had to be careful.

He drummed his fingers on his desk. "Which would provide the biggest short-term gains without triggering too much attention?"

"AI-assisted predictive modeling," Gideon answered instantly. "It provides innovation without immediate national security concerns. The research would be applicable in multiple fields, including finance, medical analytics, and computational physics."

Ben smirked. "Then that's the one."

A new document opened, and he began typing.

Title: Advancements in Neural Predictive Algorithms: An Approach to Data-Driven Intelligence

It was time to push the world a little further ahead.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Snow piled outside the Tennyson home, reflecting the golden glow of streetlights. The world outside was alive with the anticipation of New Year's Eve, but inside, things were quieter.

Ben sat on the couch, his laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him. The faint murmur of the Times Square countdown coverage played on the TV, filling the living room with the festive energy of the celebration.

His focus, however, was elsewhere.

"Your second research paper is making waves," Gideon's voice chimed into his concealed earpiece. "Academic discussions have already begun debating its applications."

Ben scanned through the live forum threads, smirking at the reactions.

"If applied correctly, this could reshape data analytics entirely."

"The math is solid, but I'm skeptical about real-world application."

"Why is a 16-year-old publishing work like this? Who is this kid?"

His first paper had set the stage, but this one? It was drawing real attention.

"Corporate interest?" Ben asked, absentmindedly swirling his drink.

"A few companies specializing in AI and data analytics have inquired about possible collaboration," Gideon confirmed. "Smaller firms, primarily. Nothing from the major players yet."

Ben nodded. That was expected. The real giants—Stark Industries, Oscorp, and other major players—wouldn't reach out until they saw real-world applications of his work.

"Any government attention?"

"Passive surveillance has increased," Gideon noted. "Your name has been flagged in reports analyzing AI development trends, but there is no formal investigation or outreach."

Ben exhaled. For now, they were just watching.

"Good," he muttered, leaning back. His academic reputation was growing, his name was gaining traction, and his vigilante work had stabilized into a known but mysterious presence.

And now, it was time to move forward.

"Vista's going to be my first major project, but there's no rush. For now, I'll keep laying the groundwork and focus on the bigger picture."

"I've already begun preliminary patent applications," Gideon noted. "Would you like to move forward with silent recruitment?"

"Not yet," Ben said. "I'll handle it once the semester starts again. Keep it low-key for now."

"Understood."

The Times Square countdown blared from the TV—30 seconds to midnight.

Sandra and Carl were in the kitchen, chatting as they prepared snacks for their New Year's Eve gathering. His mom had been thrilled to have him home for the holidays, and Carl had already started cracking jokes about how Ben had "better not try to skip college too."

Ben rolled his eyes at the memory, a small grin tugging at his lips.

"10! 9! 8!" the TV announcers cheered, and the crowd joined in unison.

Ben glanced out the window, his gaze shifting toward the night sky. 2001 had been a turning point.

Iceland. 9/11. The rise of Subject X. His academic papers. His acceleration through MIT.

2002 was going to be even bigger.

"3! 2! 1!"

Fireworks exploded across the sky, illuminating the night in bursts of gold and red.

Ben leaned back, gazing out at the New Year's fireworks exploding across the skyline.

Over a year.

Over a year since he woke up in this world. One year since he started reshaping his future.

Now?

Now, he was financially independent. His name was starting to carry weight in academic and corporate circles. He had built the foundation.

But this was only the first step.

"2001 was just the warm-up," he murmured to himself. "2002 is where the real game begins."

The sky flashed with another round of fireworks, golden light reflecting in his eyes.

This world was changing.

And so was he.