When Daniel first arrived back on Earth, Betty Ross hadn't attracted any attention. No agents, no watchers. But within just a few days, things started to change.
Government men started appearing, keeping tabs on Betty—even if they pretended not to notice Daniel himself. But Daniel wasn't fooled. He knew that even if S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't caught his scent yet, someone would eventually start poking around. His sudden appearance, his unfamiliar background—it would raise questions soon enough.
Still, Daniel wasn't worried. He'd layered his new identity well enough that nobody could track its real origin—unless he wanted them to. Let them try.
What mattered more was that big moves were happening behind the scenes. Someone with real power had set things in motion. Daniel noticed signs in the university too—it was more than just Betty under surveillance. This was global, and it started at the top.
But he pushed those worries aside for now. His focus was on Bruce Banner.
Now that Banner had shown up, Daniel's suspicions were confirmed: General Ross had gotten word that Banner was back in the country. And if Bruce Banner was anywhere near, everyone knew what he would do next.
He'd try to see Betty—even if it was only from a distance.
No wonder, then, that Ross had his daughter under tight watch. Betty wasn't thinking about any of that. She was still reeling from the rush of her memories returning. She burst into Stan's Bakery, frantic, desperately searching for answers.
Daniel followed her in, looking calm as ever. He could still sense Banner nearby, lurking, unwilling to show his face. He could have told Betty. He could have pointed her in the right direction. But he didn't.
Stan, the old baker, held onto hope that maybe Betty and Bruce might find their way back together. So, after a moment's hesitation, seeing the determination in Betty's eyes, he finally—quietly and reluctantly—handed over Bruce's contact information.
Betty didn't pause to say thanks. She bolted out so fast her footsteps echoed.
Daniel watched her go, and Stan turned to him in confusion. "Aren't you going after her?"
Daniel shook his head and smiled a little. "Why would I? It's none of my business."
He glanced at the counter. "By the way, my cake. I paid already."
Stan, sighed and handed over the strawberry cake.
At the door, Daniel stopped, glancing back at Stan with a level, warning tone. "You should have thought about Betty's safety. General Ross's people are on her now—she's being followed."
Stan's face went pale. Maybe he'd only dreamed about a happy reunion and hadn't thought of the risk. Now reality hit, cold and hard. He grabbed the phone to make a desperate call.
Daniel didn't stick around to hear anything else. He didn't care about what came next for Betty and Bruce. Let them find each other, talk, patch up or fall apart. He wasn't Betty's protector—or Bruce's rival.
But Daniel also understood how fragile their reunion really was. Bruce Banner's curse made getting close impossible, and Betty, more than anyone, knew the risks best. The wounds were still there, even after all these years. If Bruce lost control, it could all end in disaster again.
Best not to dwell on it.
He tucked the cake under his arm and grabbed his suitcase. The apartment he'd bought weeks ago in the East Village was finally waiting. He set out across town, making the short walk through city blocks covered in graffiti and old brickwork.
He expected a regular apartment, maybe something a bit beaten up. What greeted him was a row of red-brick, three-story townhouses, each a little aged but sturdy. His new place was tucked away from the street, away from prying eyes.
He raised an eyebrow, taking in the scene. Ivy crept up the sides, wires hung loose, bullet holes scarred the brickwork, and a police car sat in the driveway next door.
'Typical New York,' he thought with a faint smirk. Gunfights, police—the price made sense now.
He matched the number on the door to his key and was just about to go inside when the door next door opened.
A middle-aged man in a crisp police uniform appeared. From inside, a cheerful young voice called, "Dad! Your bag!"
The man smiled at Daniel and nodded, taking the black bag from his daughter before heading to his patrol car.
Daniel pieced it together: a cop's house, retaliation from local thugs, a scared family selling cheap. Daniel's people bought it up fast. Efficient.
He stepped inside.
The place was dark, with faded red wallpaper curling at the corners, old furniture from another era, and the lingering smell of cigarettes. Everything was in working order, just not well loved. Someone had cleared out in a hurry, even leaving food in the fridge.
Daniel made a mental list—clean out the junk, bring in modern gear, embed magical safeguards into the very walls. This would be a proper headquarters.
He was just finishing a shower when there was a knock at the door.
Daniel answered, a towel slung over his neck.
On the porch stood a bright-eyed blonde girl with a plate of fresh cherries, grinning ear to ear.
"Hi! I'm your new neighbor," she said. "Saw you moving in. Thought I'd welcome you!"
Daniel blinked.
"I'm Gwen Stacy. You can just call me Gwen. I just got into Empire State University too, this summer!"
Gwen Stacy? Seriously?
Internally, Daniel sighed. First Betty Ross, now Gwen Stacy? Was he living in the Marvel multiverse?
Outside, he smiled warmly. "Thanks for the cherries. I'm Daniel. Just moved in today, so if it gets noisy from renovations—sorry in advance."
"No problem!" Gwen said cheerfully. "This street's been kind of tense lately, so we're happy to have someone new around."
Daniel chuckled. "I can believe it."
She eyed him. "You go to Empire State too? You look older than a freshman."
Daniel shrugged. "Transfer from the Netherlands. System's different there."
"Makes sense," Gwen said, nodding. "You don't sound local, either."
He grinned. "I'm trying to blend in."
After some small talk, Gwen waved goodbye and ducked back inside.
Daniel closed the door behind her and paused, alone again.
This couldn't be coincidence. First Betty, now Gwen—two key figures in the history of Marvel's heroes. Add in the ties to Banner, to Peter Parker—it was too much to brush off as random chance.
Daniel's chest tightened. Someone was pulling strings.
Someone with power to shape destiny itself.
It had to be Odin. Only a being on his level could weave fates across worlds and make it all seem natural.
Daniel hated being manipulated. He'd been Heimdall's pawn before—cast through the Tesseract into Jotunheim. But this time, he knew who was pulling the strings.
Odin.
And Daniel would do whatever it took to break free.
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