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Chapter 49: Damn
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"Goddamn," Adam whispered to his reflection, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. "I look absolutely gorgeous. And far, far too memorable."
[The grey eye with the hazel one… the heterochromia is chef's kiss.]
[He's crafting an aesthetic. This man understands brand identity on a cellular level.]
[This sounds like another fourth wall break! He also wants to look good for us and keep us entertained!]
[True true.]
[Aww, he looks so handsome! Adam! I love you!!] [+1] [+1] [+1]
[Goddamn, this chat has more glaze and dicksucking than the fucking ocean. Disgusting.]
[Delicious, I would suck his dick any day.] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1]
[??????]
[Yo, be careful and don't push it too far. If this is really a supernatural Show, then what if Adam jumps out of the screen? You'd be dead.]
[Damn...] [Damn...] [Damn...] [Damn...] [Damn...] [Damn...]
Over the next week, Adam's life became a whirlwind of corporate bullshit.
He established Cypher Enterprises LLC with breathtaking speed, a process greased by his connections and a not-insignificant amount of legal pressure.
The "friendly" Maggia family, true to their word and terrified of Magneto, proved to be masters of bureaucratic sleight-of-hand.
Using a combination of forged documents, coerced signatures, and the compliant assistance of the late Kingpin's widow, Vanessa, they seamlessly transferred the ownership of a massive, prestigious skyscraper; formerly the crown jewel of Fisk's legitimate empire; into Adam's name.
The underworld's machinery, when properly motivated, was far more efficient than any legitimate process.
That's their homefield after all, and how they gained control over the Kingpin's businesses.
The building became the new headquarters of Cypher Enterprises. Adam immediately set to work on its digital heart.
He designed a centralized master database, a fortress of encrypted servers that would handle user authentication, core profiles, and the most sensitive data.
For scalability and speed, he leased server space from major cloud providers, creating a distributed network of regional databases.
It was a robust, modern architecture, and after days of relentless testing and troubleshooting, the platform was ready.
The advertisement campaign was, true to form, anything but conventional.
Emma Frost, finding the whole enterprise delightfully promising, had thrown the full weight of her vast wealth and the Hellfire Club's subtle media influence behind it.
The single promotional video she received from Adam made her burst into genuine, startled laughter. It was perfect.
The video launched with very little fanfare and quickly began to circulate, pushed by an army of bots and legitimate curiosity.
It opened on Adam, his striking white hair and heterochromatic eyes immediately arresting, sitting in his workshop.
The background was a character in itself: humming servers, holographic displays, and the sleek, silent forms of his mechanical arms.
The camera zoomed in as he clicked on a video from a generic, unnamed website.
The video buffer wheel spun. And spun. Adam tapped a finger impatiently. "Hello?" He said, his voice laced with feigned frustration.
The video finally loaded, stuttering at a mediocre resolution. He frowned as the audio desynced, then the frame rate dropped to a slideshow.
"Tf is this garbage?" He finally yelled, throwing his hands up. "I could make something better in an hour!"
[LMAO! He's just like me! The buffering is a universal enemy!]
[The production quality of this ad is already better than the website he's mocking.]
[He's so dramatic, I love it.]
[The buffering isn't so bad in the current year, but in 2008, even in Marvel, it should be bad, right?]
He looked down, and the camera followed his gaze to the sleek, quadrupedal form of his mechanical wolf, who walked over with surprising flexibility and nuzzled his hand.
"What do you think, John? Can I do it?"
Then, Adam stood up with purpose, grabbing a welding helmet. Energetic, synth-wave music kicked in.
The following sequence was a rapid-fire montage of pure, unadulterated tech-porn.
Sparks flew as Adam welded a massive, complex machine. Shots of intricate mechanical components floated through the air as if by telekinesis.
Blazing red optic blasts lanced across the screen, precisely melting and shaping metal.
[WAIT A SECOND! THAT'S JEAN'S TELEKINESIS AND CYCLOPS' OPTIC BLASTS!]
[Oh!! That's what the footage is for!!]
[This is the most unhinged corporate ad in history. Is he building a website or a death ray?]
The juxtaposition was intentionally confusing. How did any of this relate to building a better video platform?
The video answered the question by not answering it. It cut to Adam standing proudly before the now-completed, towering machine, which hummed with brilliance.
He looked at it with fascination.
"Voila," He said softly, "The wishing machine!! Create me the greatest social platform ever!!"
[...]
[Tf!?] [So over the top, wtf?]
[So he created a fucking wishing machine to make him a platform instead of just creating the social platform??]
[We're watching an ad, dude, he didn't actually create the wishing machine, Christ's sake.]
[Oh...]
The camera panned to a computer monitor. On it, a clean, gorgeous website was open.
A single tab read: Pulse. He clicked a video. It loaded instantly, blooming into crystal-clear resolution.
The video within the video was meta-commentary genius. It showed Adam, from earlier, rubbing his temples in front of a screen.
"Oracle, generate another promotional video," The on-screen Adam said.
An ethereal, synthesized female voice responded, "Generating."
The screen showed a blatantly, comically bad AI-generated video of a cartoonish Adam promoting Pulse.
The real Adam in the ad sighed dramatically. "Garbage... I guess I have to hire superheroes to make the video."
The real Adam then tapped the spacebar, pausing the meta-video. He coughed, looking sheepishly at the camera.
"How did that get there? Those are trade secrets." He leaned in, his grey eye seeming to glow.
"Don't get too hopeful; Oracle AI is not ready for launch yet. This," He gestured around him, "Is a promotional video for Pulse."
Icons for two other apps flowed over his hands. "But to soothe your curiosity, we're also releasing these. Flow, for photos. Messenger, for… messaging."
He gave a final, charmingly dismissive wave. "Alright, go away. I still have to work on Skynet."
The screen cut to black, leaving only the Cypher Enterprises logo and the launch date... Now.
[Tf! He knows shock is the best advertisement because that was so over the top.]
[Pulse, Flow, Messenger… he's creating his own digital ecosystem overnight...]
[This is a fucking declaration of war on the entire tech industry.]
[I don't know what I just watched.]
[He not only advertised the entirety of his digital system but also hinted at another, Oracle AI.]
Adam Cypher sat in the sleek, minimalist expanse of his new office atop the Cypher Enterprises tower, a cup of perfectly brewed coffee cooling beside him.
His attention was divided between three displays: real-time user metrics for Pulse, Flow, and Messenger, and a live feed of global financial markets.
A slow, satisfied smile touched his lips. The launch had been, by any objective measure, a resounding success.
His confidence had been built on several unassailable pillars. First, the platforms themselves were superior.
He had drawn inspiration from the most addictive and user-friendly aspects of his previous world's social media giants, refining them with a clean, intuitive aesthetic that felt years ahead of anything else on the market.
That was thanks to the fact that the giants of this World, the most brilliant minds, are more atune with technology, magic, and other fields.
Therefore, the social aspect of the internet wasn't very mature.
And the algorithms were brilliant, the interfaces smoother, the entire experience more pleasurable.
Second, the money was already rolling in. While short-form video platforms were notoriously difficult to monetize directly, their value as promotional tools was immense.
The company's business inbox was flooded with offers from brands and influencers eager to partner with the hot new thing.
Third, and most crucially, he had a secret weapon: content that was literally out of this world.
Even if the initial novelty wore off, his personal account on Pulse was a treasure trove of the extraordinary.
There were videos of his mechanical hound, John, demonstrating a fluid, uncanny gait that defied current robotics.
There were the breathtaking, high-definition clips of telekinetically floating components and the searing, crimson beams of optic blasts; all carefully edited to show only the powers, not the people wielding them.
The public might dismiss it as groundbreaking CGI, a marketing gimmick, but it was cool shit.
And he had only begun to scratch the surface of the supernatural footage he could release.
It would undoubtedly attract trouble, but trouble was his second wife, and she always brought interesting gifts that played into his long-term plans.
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