Marvel's Strongest Mage

New York's autumn was in rare form—sun-warmed breezes, golden leaves tumbling across brick walkways, and the crisp scent of change in the air. After the stifling summer and the punishing chill of winter, this sliver of fall felt like a stolen blessing. Students of Imperial University spilled out of the lecture halls, chattering, laughing, lingering just a little longer in the sun.

Among them, two figures moved with purpose.

"Daniel," Peter Parker said, slinging his worn backpack over one shoulder, "I still can't believe a bio major like you joined a physics club."

Daniel smiled faintly. "Why not? Biophysics exists for a reason."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

Daniel chuckled and continued, "It's actually one of the best interdisciplinary sciences. You've got molecular interactions, quantum principles, cellular mechanics—it all overlaps. Bioengineering, nanotech, agricultural physics, system biology… it's a tangled web, no pun intended."

He stepped aside to let a cyclist pass, then added, "And quantum physics? It's the pivot point. If you want to truly understand the body's limits—or break them—you need to understand how information and energy behave at the smallest scales."

Peter blinked. "Okay. That's… fair."

Of course, Daniel hadn't joined the club for lectures and lab tours. The real reason was buried beneath layers of strategic positioning. He needed access—to people, data, conversations most students would never hear.

He'd considered reaching out through Dr. Betty Ross. After all, she was one of Imperial University's top biological science minds, and she taught one of his courses. But he didn't want eyes from Ross. So Daniel took the scenic route.

And it led him, unexpectedly, to Peter Parker.

At first, Daniel thought it was a coincidence. But after everything else that had happened since arriving in this universe, he no longer believed in coincidence. Fates were threads, and someone was stitching them.

Peter was talented. Everyone knew that. First-year student, already granted access to specialized physics labs. He had the favor of half the department. His genius was undeniable.

And he was Spider-Man.

That part… complicated everything.

Still, Daniel played the game. Lunch in the cafeteria. Polite banter about phase-state algorithms and string fluctuations. He asked thoughtful questions. Peter seemed to enjoy explaining.

But before they could finish their food, a shadow fell across their table.

Both Daniel and Peter had seen her approach from across the dining hall—neither wanted to show it.

Blonde. Impeccably dressed. Radiating curated charm and polished elegance. Her eyes sparkled with the kind of interest that wasn't entirely friendly.

"Parker," she said, flashing a practiced smile. "Don't forget about the charity gala tomorrow night. You're expected to be early."

Peter straightened instantly. "Of course, Felicia. Wouldn't dream of being late."

He stood, brushing crumbs from his shirt. "Felicia Hardy, meet Daniel. Daniel's a freshman in bio. Daniel, this is Felicia—my classmate. Her mother's kind of a legend in New York philanthropy."

Daniel rose politely and extended a hand. "Miss Hardy. A pleasure."

Felicia took his hand with a light squeeze, her eyes sweeping over him with casual intensity. She didn't linger, but she took note. His clothes weren't flashy, but the fabric was bespoke. His watch wasn't Patek Philippe, but Breguet wasn't far behind.

"Likewise, Daniel," she said smoothly. "You're invited to the gala too, of course. I hope you'll attend." She smiled again, nodded, and left with no wasted words.

Daniel's gaze followed her briefly.

She had the walk of someone born into attention.

He turned to Peter. "Friend of yours?"

Peter gave a half-shrug. "Classmate. We bump into each other a lot."

Daniel said nothing, but made a mental note.

In the Marvel world, names had weight. He remembered Mary Jane. Gwen Stacy. Felicia Hardy. This last one… Black Cat. Sometimes ally. Sometimes a thief. Always dangerous.

Still, none of that was certain. This universe seemed to blur the lines between canon and chaos.

Through a few more conversations, Daniel learned the outline: Felicia's mother, Lydia Hardy, owned a small empire of Manhattan real estate. Her rentals brought in tens—sometimes hundreds—of millions annually. Most of it poured into charities. The IRS kept an eye on it. So did every ambitious donor in the city.

The charity gala wasn't just a fundraiser—it was a battleground of reputations and alliances. And this year, it was hosted by none other than J. Jonah Jameson.

The irony was almost poetic.

Peter, of course, was tasked with photography. Courtesy of his job at The Daily Bugle.

Daniel hadn't planned on attending.

Until an envelope arrived.

Delivered to the small house he kept just off-campus—a fact he hadn't shared with anyone, not even his roommates.

Felicia had somehow found it anyway.

And so had the Stacys.

Gwen's father, Captain George Stacy of the 67th Precinct, also received an invitation. And with Gwen as his plus-one, it only made sense for Daniel to accompany them.

The gala itself was a strange blend of luxury and necessity.

Jameson, never one to waste money, hosted it not in a hotel but in his personal penthouse. The top floor of a high-rise with panoramic views of Manhattan. Inside, the marble floors gleamed. Art lined the walls. The air was full of champagne laughter and the rustle of silk.

Peter arrived with his camera bag slung over his shoulder.

"Parker," Jameson barked from across the room. "Is this your friend?"

"Yes, sir. Daniel. Fellow student at Imperial."

Daniel stepped forward. "Mr. Jameson, it's an honor. I've read the Bugle since I was a kid."

Jameson, amused, shook his hand. "Smart kid. If you ever want a job, we could use someone who can spell their own name."

Daniel smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

He left Parker to his boss and joined Gwen, who was fielding small talk with practiced ease. Together, they moved through the crowd—old money, rising stars, off-duty politicians, and even a few faces Daniel recognized from the Stark Expo.

Harry Osborn was there, standing in for his father, who'd sent his regrets.

Flash Thompson had arrived, too. Loud, confident, and dressed to impress. He was Felicia's dance partner for the evening, though it didn't seem romantic.

Peter, ever magnetic, drew attention whether he meant to or not. Girls hovered. Felicia found him again, smiling over a glass of wine. Gwen stayed close to Daniel, her arm brushing his every so often.

He didn't mind.

Not tonight.

The real star of the evening, however, was Lydia Hardy.

Regal in a mustard-gold dress, she floated through the room like royalty without arrogance. She greeted everyone. Even Daniel and Gwen received a warm, intentional hello.

But just as Lydia prepared to take the podium and begin her speech…

The doors opened.

And Spider-Man walked in.

Full suit. Confident posture. Web-shooters gleaming subtly on his wrists.

The room fell into whispers. Phones were raised. Camera flashes blinked.

And Daniel?

He turned, slowly, toward Peter Parker—still standing near Jameson—still in civilian clothes.

His eyes narrowed. A flicker of cold calculation swept across his face.

Two Spider-Men?

Or one… and a very, very good liar?

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