Marvel Ultimate Gacha

Alex stepped out of the Fisk Building, glancing back at the massive structure with a sigh. "Damn, what a mess," he muttered. Earlier, he had extracted all the available information from Fisk's systems, uncovering details about his identity in this world.

To his surprise, his name wasn't Alexander King as he'd thought, but Michael White.

As it turned out, he was the heir to the White family—a powerful dynasty with a vast empire of hotels and properties under their name. The discovery shed light on why he'd been kidnapped in the first place. Kingpin had targeted him because he desired one of the family's most prestigious hotels. Unfortunately for Kingpin, that hotel belonged to him—or rather, the original body he now inhabited.

"Kidnapped over a hotel... figures," Alex—no, Michael—muttered. "Guess the old me didn't sell it, so they decided to take me instead. How lucky for them that it led to this."

He smirked slightly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the evening light.

"Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. From now on, my name is Michael White," he said to himself, his tone firm. Adjusting his coat, he turned and began walking away from the building, ready to embrace his new identity and the opportunities it would bring.

As Michael walked down the dimly lit streets, his undead army dispersed, returning to the shadows from where they had come. The skeletal figures melted into the darkness, awaiting their next command. The streets were eerily quiet, the chaos he'd unleashed inside Fisk's building not yet spilling into the outside world.

Michael's mind raced with plans. The discovery of his identity brought an avalanche of new opportunities—and challenges. The White family name held power, and with it, he could extend his influence far beyond Fisk's empire. But first, he needed to consolidate his newfound position.

He paused at a corner, pulling up a holographic map from his wrist device—something he had "borrowed" from Fisk's arsenal. The display showed the locations of all White family properties across the city and beyond. It was a sprawling network, with multiple hotels, resorts, and even private islands.

"Not bad," he mused, scrolling through the data. "But there's a lot to clean up. If I'm going to use this name, I'll have to make sure no one's pulling strings behind the scenes."

His thoughts returned to Viper, now firmly under his control. With her expertise and contacts, she could help him stabilize his new empire—and expand it. But there was still the matter of other threats, especially those who might have taken advantage of the original Michael White's absence.

****

Back at the Fisk Building, Viper stood in the ruins of what was once Wilson Fisk's stronghold. She looked around at the shattered remnants of the kingpin's empire and couldn't help but marvel at the sheer brutality of Michael's efficiency. She clutched the side of her neck where Michael's "insurance" had taken root, a constant reminder of her new allegiance.

"New kingpin," she whispered to herself. "This is going to be interesting."

Viper turned to the remaining survivors of Fisk's operation—enforcers, accountants, and a handful of bruisers who hadn't fled during the chaos. They looked to her with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Alright, listen up," she barked. "From now on, things are going to be different. You work for him now. There's no room for mistakes, no room for treachery. Do your jobs, and maybe—just maybe—you'll live long enough to enjoy the new order."

Meanwhile, Michael arrived at a nearby luxury hotel owned by the White family. The towering structure gleamed under the city lights, its polished exterior a stark contrast to the carnage he had left behind. As he walked through the grand entrance, the staff immediately froze, unsure how to react to their unexpected visitor.

"Welcome, Mr. White," a manager stammered, recognizing him from old photos. The man's voice wavered, betraying his nerves.

Michael gave him a sharp look but said nothing, merely gesturing for the man to lead the way. He was taken to the penthouse suite—his rightful place, apparently.

As he entered the lavish suite, he surveyed the opulence with a faint smile. The walls were lined with gold accents, and the view of the city skyline was breathtaking. Michael stepped to the window, gazing out at the sprawling metropolis.

"What a beautiful view," he muttered, his reflection in the glass showing a faint red glow in his eyes.

"Alas it won't remain like this for long" he mumbled as he sighed, this year is 2011, which means just a year before the New York battle.

"Hmm, although I'm stronger now, you never know when unexpected variables might appear," Michael thought as he clenched his fists. Determination burned in his eyes as he stared into the night.

"First, I need to grow strong enough that not even Thanos could rival me," he mumbled to himself, setting a single, clear goal for his future.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind racing. "But how do I best get stronger?" he sighed, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

"I can gain experience while killing, like in games. And if I use special skills, they give additional experience," he mumbled thoughtfully. "Then there's my Cerulege power... That anti-venom ability allows me to create moves like a Pokémon."

He chuckled at the comparison but quickly grew serious. "I should refine my spells and develop more moves for the anti-venom ability. But... maybe I shouldn't call it anti-venom now. That sounds too generic," he mused, resting his chin in his hand.

A flurry of names ran through his head as he tried to come up with something more unique.

(Author's Note): Feel free to suggest a name for Michael's evolving anti-venom ability!

"Well, let's leave that for later," he finally said, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Right now, I need to focus on resting. Tomorrow's another day, and I have a long road ahead of me."

He lay down on the soft, luxurious bed and let the fatigue of the day wash over him. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to relax.

"First, let me have some sleep," he thought, closing his eyes as he drifted off into a deep, dreamless slumber.