Marvel's Strongest Mage

The street outside Daniel's apartment was unusually quiet for midday. The sun sat high, casting a warm sheen over the pavement, but few ventured out in the heat. Only the rustling wind and the distant hum of traffic whispered through the silence.

From far down the street came the crisp whir of a bicycle in motion.

Within seconds, the rider pulled up to the curb and dismounted in one smooth motion. Helmet off, blond hair tousled from the ride, Daniel exhaled and glanced up at the familiar building before him.

He'd just returned from Imperial University.

Classes hadn't started yet—there were still several days before the semester began, and housing arrangements for incoming students were in disarray. That left Daniel commuting daily between his apartment and campus.

It was only a few kilometers each way—driving felt excessive. So he biked.

But today, something was off.

Just as Daniel unlocked the front gate, the door next to his creaked open. Gwen Stacy leaned halfway out, biting her lip. She was clearly uneasy, voice low as she whispered, "Daniel… someone's at your door. They've been waiting since morning."

Daniel tensed.

Gwen's discomfort wasn't unwarranted. Though the neighborhood had calmed since recent events, the memory of chaos was still fresh. Any unknown figure—especially one loitering—triggered unease.

And these strangers weren't just passing by. They hadn't visited Imperial. They hadn't left. They'd just... waited.

All morning.

That alone had Gwen rattled.

"They haven't done anything," she added quickly, "so I didn't call the police or anything. But… I thought you should know."

Daniel forced a calm breath and gave a small nod, asking, "Didn't you ask your dad to run a check on them?"

Gwen flushed slightly and replied, "He said not to bother him unless it was urgent."

Of course. Captain George Stacy wasn't one to waste time. Even so, Daniel could tell Gwen's instinct was correct—these weren't harmless solicitors.

As if on cue, two men in dark suits stepped out of a parked black car just down the block. Their movements were precise, practiced as they approached the apartment.

Daniel narrowed his eyes at them and thought, 'Government? Corporate? Something else?'

Daniel turned back toward Gwen. "Thanks," he said gently.

She gave him a slight smile, then slowly closed her door—leaving only a thin crack, barely enough to eavesdrop through.

The taller man approached first. His expression was neutral, cautious. "Mr. Daniel?" he asked.

Daniel nodded.

The man extended a business card. "We're from a remodeling company. We heard you were looking to renovate, so we came by to connect."

Daniel accepted the card with a polite smile, then gestured toward the door. "Come on in."

He waved to Gwen through the crack in her door, trying to offer some reassurance. She ducked back, clearly mortified that she'd mistaken them for criminals.

But as soon as the apartment door closed behind them, the tone shifted.

Immediately, one of the men turned toward the entrance and barked, "Secure the front. Watch for movement."

The other followed Daniel into the living room. Gone was the polite exterior. He now studied Daniel with the precision of a man walking a minefield.

Then he spoke.

"Mr. Reinhardt?"

Daniel froze.

His breath caught, his fingers curling slightly at his side. He hadn't heard that name in years.

He studied the man's face—Indian descent, perhaps early thirties, a flicker of familiarity in his eyes.

"…You're with the Bakshi family?"

The man exhaled with quiet relief. "Yes, sir. My name is Sunil Bakshi. I'm the third-generation heir."

Daniel nodded slowly. "Of course. I figured it was only a matter of time before your family came knocking."

His expression darkened with memory.

"Let's talk upstairs," he said quietly. "It's safer there."

The study on the second floor was cloaked in dust and shadow. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, their contents borrowed from Imperial University's library. In fact, if one were to pull up Daniel's borrowing records under the alias Reinhardt, they would find every single one accounted for here.

Daniel sat behind the desk, fingers steepled. Sunil stood before him, posture straight but cautious—like a man delivering a message to a sleeping lion.

According to the Bakshi family's lore, the man before him—Reinhardt—had once been a senior German officer during World War II. He'd vanished after the war's end, presumed dead. Now, here he stood—young, sharp-eyed, and very much alive.

Sunil's grandfather had served directly under Reinhardt. Before the war's collapse, Reinhardt had arranged for the Bakshi family's escape to the Netherlands, ensuring their survival. If he hadn't intervened, they would have been swept up in the global purges and post-war retribution.

Even now, decades later, the Bakshis lived cautiously. Jewish vengeance was not easily forgotten, and being known as the descendant of a German officer—even in the modern world—was a dangerous legacy.

Still, Sunil had been raised with this knowledge. His family had spent generations watching, waiting, preserving the fragments Reinhardt left behind.

And now… Reinhardt had returned.

After Daniel's battle with Abomination and the Hulk, the Bakshi family had no doubts. No one else could wield that kind of strength. The Water Giant the world had witnessed—his power was unmistakable.

The family had panicked. This was no ordinary man. If they misstepped, they wouldn't just lose favor—they'd face obliteration.

Sunil had come to assess two things: the man's identity… and his intentions toward the Bakshi bloodline.

Daniel met his gaze, expression unreadable.

"You don't need to call me that anymore," he said finally. "Reinhardt… that name's gone. Buried with the war. My name now is Daniel."

There was no malice in his voice—but there was steel.

Sunil nodded solemnly. "Understood, sir."

Daniel looked away for a moment. The truth was, when he first arrived in this world, the name Reinhardt had been all he remembered. It had defined him. He'd worn it like a mask.

But over time—through battle, experience, and memory—he'd begun to shed that skin. To remember who he truly was.

And Reinhardt was no longer him.

That name came with too much blood. Too many ghosts. And too many enemies.

Fury. Rogers. Logan…

Even now, he hoped Logan's fragmented memory would shield him. Poor man—used and erased over and over again, a pawn shuffled endlessly by those with power.

But there was no hiding forever.

"Let's get to business," Daniel said, leaning back in his chair.

Sunil cleared his throat. "First—Norwich Energy Group."

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"Since the war, Norwich has grown into a multibillion-dollar empire. Hydroelectric, oil, nuclear, gas—it's everywhere. Publicly, it appears legitimate. But we both know… it was your design."

Daniel smiled faintly. "I left that blueprint behind before I disappeared. I'm surprised Irene Adler kept the name."

"She's never married," Sunil added. "And she's begun delegating more power. Few people even know she's involved anymore."

"She was always careful," Daniel murmured.

Irene Adler—an old ally, a mutant, once a comrade of Wolverine. She had eventually fallen into Daniel's orbit and pledged loyalty. He trusted her—at least, more than most.

"Norwich has expanded aggressively," Sunil continued. "They're embedded in tech, politics, infrastructure—and, increasingly, the extraordinary world."

"That's a problem," Daniel muttered. "The more visible they become, the harder it is to control them from the shadows."

"Exactly. And we have very few operatives on the inside. A direct takeover would be… difficult. Risky."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Then we don't take them head-on."

Sunil tilted his head.

"We target their roots," Daniel explained. "Their secret bases—on Svalbard and Jan Mayen Island. If we can reclaim those, we can control Norwich from beneath. Quietly."

Sunil hesitated. "You believe those locations are still active?"

Daniel didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he closed his eyes and saw Nick Fury's face.

Fury, ever the spider, ever the watcher. If Daniel revealed himself too soon—before Hydra was exposed, before the Avengers fractured—he'd draw fire from every direction.

No. He had to wait. Act from the dark.

Until the time was right.

"Yes," Daniel said at last. "We begin with the bases."

Sunil nodded. But the weight of it—the scope—settled on his shoulders.

This wasn't just about recovering a legacy.

This was about reclaiming dominion.

And in the silence that followed, Sunil Bakshi understood something very clearly.

Reinhardt was back.

Only now… he wore a different face.

And this time, he wasn't hiding.