When Daniel first returned to Earth, there were no signs of surveillance on Betty Ross.
That changed within days.
Agents began to appear—watching Betty, not him quietly. But Daniel knew better. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't flagged him yet, someone would. His appearance, identity, background—it was only a matter of time before someone started digging.
Not that it mattered.
With their tools and intelligence, not even S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to trace who he really was. Not unless he allowed it.
What this did tell him, though, was more important: in just a matter of days, powerful hands had moved. Things had been arranged—globally. Even Imperial University had been influenced. That meant someone up top, maybe multiple people, were in on it.
Still, all of that could wait. For now, his eyes were on Bruce Banner.
His appearance confirmed Daniel's suspicions. General Ross must've gotten word—Banner had returned to U.S. soil. And if Banner was back, there was one thing everyone knew he'd eventually do:
He'd seek out Betty Ross.
Even if it was just for one last look.
And that's exactly why General Ross had begun to keep her under tight surveillance. But Betty wasn't thinking about any of that now. Her composure had cracked. Memories had returned. She burst back into Stanley's Bakery, nearly frantic, eyes wide as she cornered the old man behind the counter.
Daniel entered a few steps behind her, calm as ever.
He already knew.
Banner hadn't gone far. He was still nearby, hidden—but unwilling to show his face. Daniel could sense him. And he could have told Betty. Could've pointed exactly where to look.
But he didn't.
Old Stan, for his part, had never let go of his hope that Betty and Bruce might reconcile. So after a moment of hesitation—under the weight of Betty's pleading eyes—he finally reluctantly gave her Bruce's contact information.
She didn't even thank him. She was gone before her shoes stopped echoing.
Daniel remained, watching her leave.
Stan looked at him, puzzled. "You're not going after her?"
Daniel smiled faintly, his voice dry. "Why would I? From that moment on, she stopped being any of my concern."
Whether it was detachment or heartbreak, even Daniel wasn't sure.
But he pointed to the counter. "My cake. I paid for it already."
Stan, still stunned, handed over the strawberry cake.
As Daniel reached the door, he paused, turned halfway, and glanced back at the old baker. His tone was sharp—measured, but carrying a warning.
"You should've thought twice before helping them. General Ross has people watching Betty. They'll be following her now."
The color drained from Stan's face. Regret rushed in like cold water. He hadn't stopped to consider the danger—only the dream of reunion.
Without a word, he grabbed the phone and made a call.
Daniel didn't stay to hear what happened next.
He didn't care.
Let the two of them meet. Let them talk. Hell, let them sleep together.
He wasn't their father. Wasn't her boyfriend. And honestly? If anyone had been "cheated" on, it was Bruce—not him.
Still, Daniel understood exactly how fragile that reunion was. Bruce Banner's condition made physical intimacy… impossible. Betty knew that. Had lived it. She had the scars. If Banner lost control again…
No. Best not to think about that.
Daniel tucked the cake under one arm, picked up his suitcase, and walked east—toward the East Village. He had an apartment waiting for him. Bought it weeks ago but never had time to see it.
Now seemed like a good time.
The walk took less than twenty minutes. The campus and East Village were neighbors, separated by a few streets and some graffiti-covered walls.
Daniel expected a decent apartment in a building. Maybe something modern.
What he found instead was a row of single-family red-brick villas.
A whole row. All uniform. All three stories tall. A bit aged, sure—but structurally sound. His villa sat farther in, away from the street.
Daniel blinked.
This wasn't what he expected.
The bricks were weather-worn, vines creeping up the side. The wiring—external and messy. Bullet holes scarred one side of the front wall. A police car was parked next door.
Of course. This is America. Of course there were gunfights.
No wonder the price was low.
Still, the place was his now. Might as well make it livable.
He walked up, matched the number to the key, and reached for the door—
Just as the house next door opened.
A middle-aged man in a white police uniform stepped out. Behind him, a girl's voice called: "Dad! You forgot your bag!"
The man turned, smiled politely at Daniel, and nodded.
Daniel watched as the girl handed over a black satchel. The man ruffled her hair and walked toward the waiting cruiser.
Daniel now understood the situation: a cop lived next door. Some gang or criminal had likely sought revenge. Gunfire ensued. The family panicked. House went on sale. Daniel's people bought it.
Efficient.
He stepped inside.
The interior was dim.
Dark red wallpaper curled at the edges. The furniture looked like it had survived the 80s. Worn-out leather. Scuffed wood. A faint smell of old cigarettes and something worse clung to the walls.
Daniel flipped on the lights. Better.
The house was fully furnished—but barely functional. The previous owner had clearly left in a hurry. Even the fridge was still stocked.
No matter. He'd toss what he didn't need. Replace the rest. Maybe redesign the layout.
He could already envision it. Reinforced insulation. Magical warding runes embedded beneath the floor. An astral dampener in the attic.
A proper base of operations.
Just as he finished tidying the living room and stepped out of the shower, a knock echoed at the door.
He opened it.
A blonde girl stood there, holding a plate of fresh cherries.
She smiled brightly. "Hi! I'm your new neighbor. Saw you moving in. Thought I'd come say hello!"
Daniel blinked.
The girl continued. "I'm Gwen Stacy. You can just call me Gwen. I got into Imperial University this summer!"
Gwen Stacy?
...No.
No way.
Internally, Daniel sighed.
First Betty Ross. Now Gwen Stacy? What is this, the Spider-Verse?
Outwardly, he smiled. "Thanks for the cherries. I'm Daniel. Just moved in today. I'll be redecorating soon, so sorry in advance for any noise."
"Oh, don't worry about it. We're just glad someone moved in." Gwen beamed. "This street's been a little... tense lately."
Daniel chuckled lightly. "I can tell."
"You're going to Imperial too?" she asked, surprised.
"Yeah. Freshman. Biological Sciences Department."
Gwen looked him over again. "You look older than most freshmen."
Daniel shrugged. "I'm from the Netherlands. Transfer student. Different system."
She nodded. "Makes sense. You don't seem like the freshman type."
Then she added, thoughtfully, "You don't talk like someone from around here."
Daniel smirked. "I'm trying to blend in."
After a few more pleasantries, Gwen excused herself and returned next door.
Daniel shut the door gently behind her—and stood still for a long moment.
This wasn't a coincidence.
He could feel it now—crawling under his skin.
Betty Ross. Gwen Stacy.
Two key figures in Marvel's timeline.
And through them—Bruce Banner. Peter Parker.
Too much coincidence. Too many connections. Someone was orchestrating this.
Someone powerful.
Someone with reach across realms.
Daniel clenched his jaw.
Odin.
No one else could manipulate fate this intricately. No one else could move threads across dimensions without anyone noticing.
Heimdall had once tricked Daniel—used the Tesseract to cast him into Jotunheim, when he was inches away from taking it for himself.
But this time, it wasn't Heimdall.
It was Odin.
And Daniel hated nothing more than being controlled.
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