Marvel's Strongest Mage

Daniel had no idea how exactly Nick Fury negotiated with General Ross behind closed doors, but in the end, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and the U.S. military agreed to stay.

What followed was a joint effort: reinforced bunkers, watchtowers, armored transports lining the sandy plains of New Mexico—a fully fortified base built from paranoia and purpose.

The man deployed by the military was Colonel Kane, a hardened officer who had once served directly under General Ross. Though Ross had stepped back from active duty to position himself for political office, his influence still ran deep in the ranks.

The final green light, of course, came from the White House. After all, this wasn't just a battle over foreign tech—it involved a literal mythic civilization.

And when something cosmic lands on U.S. soil, the United States doesn't hesitate to plant its flag.

S.H.I.E.L.D. may have been founded under the authority of the World Security Council, but everyone knew where the real power sat. The U.S. held the largest vote share, the biggest budget, and the central command. Their HQ was in the States. Their agents were largely American. The global branches? Window dressing.

At the end of the day, S.H.I.E.L.D. was America's attack dog.

Sure, there were five seats at the council table. But when push came to shove, Britain and France always voted with the U.S., creating an easy majority to steamroll policy through.

That balance of power had shifted slightly under Nick Fury's leadership—he'd been clawing S.H.I.E.L.D. away from U.S. military oversight. But the old channels weren't severed, just rusted.

So Daniel wasn't surprised when Fury brokered the compromise. He didn't care either.

Let S.H.I.E.L.D. stay. If Loki returned, it would be their agents getting torn apart next time.

Daniel had made his stance clear: there was no safe place on Earth if Loki decided to strike again.

Metropolis or military base, underground vault or skyscraper penthouse—it didn't matter. Loki had walked through walls, folded illusions into reality, and vanished at will. No wall could hold him. No gate could stop him.

The military shrugged at his warnings. They hadn't been there for the battle. They hadn't seen the illusions turn deadly. They hadn't watched agents die.

Their orders were simple: stay in New Mexico. Fortify. Observe.

The nearest town was sixty miles away. Supplies could be flown in. Civilians weren't an issue. Containment was clean.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was less cavalier. Coulson, in particular, wore concern like a second skin. Unlike most agents—who had blacked out during Loki's assault—he'd seen the god's face.

He'd listened to Daniel and Stark describe the fight afterward. There was still a question that gnawed at him:

Why had Loki fled?

Daniel had designed traps. Stark had launched full-force attacks. But Loki could have pressed on. He could have kept killing. Instead, he vanished mid-battle—without explanation—and hadn't returned since.

Would he come back?

When?

And in what form?

These were the questions that kept Coulson awake—and kept Stark grounded here, refusing to leave.

The billionaire teamed up with Professor Selvig, determined to solve the base's magical vulnerability.

Jane Foster stayed too. She was obsessed—no, fascinated—by the cosmology. If Loki was real, then so were his realms. The Nine Realms. The stars. The Bifrost. It was all suddenly plausible.

Daisy Louise stayed as well, though her role was more… practical. Coffee runs. Equipment hauling. Setting up sensors.

Still, she was no fool.

People often dismissed Daisy. She wasn't an astrophysicist. She wasn't from a military background. But she'd gotten into Empire State University, and under the awkward charm, she hid a sharp mind. Back in high school, she was a ghost. Now, she was quietly becoming someone.

It was just… unfortunate.

Half a month after leaving New York for this trip, her only college boyfriend had dumped her. They'd been out in the field for over six months now—three of those spent roasting under the New Mexico sun.

Daniel, for his part, kept his identity carefully under wraps. In public, he was Major Daniel Whitehow Stein, a military liaison. No one connected the dots between that and a freshman at Empire State.

Sure, Stark called him Daniel Reinhardt, but Reinhardt could easily be a middle name. Everyone understood how these games worked—you don't ask questions that make life difficult.

Just then, a phone rang, cutting through the murmurs of late-night calculations. Daniel turned his head.

It was Jane Foster's.

She glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and pressed decline.

"Apologies. Didn't mean to interrupt."

Daniel waved it off.

"Don't worry. It's not like we're making progress."

He arched a brow.

"Dr. Foster, if you have something else to take care of, don't feel obligated to—"

"It's just my ex," Jane said, waving the phone like it smelled bad. Ding. A message arrived.

She checked it, then rolled her eyes.

"He wants me to come back and clear out my stuff from the apartment."

Daniel paused mid-step.

"What's his name?"

"Donald Blake."

The weight in Daniel's chest evaporated instantly.

He let out a breath—and then, inexplicably, laughed.

It's him. It's really him.

Thor.

Jane raised an eyebrow at his reaction.

"What? You know him?"

Daniel nodded smoothly.

"I've been to his clinic a few times. We've met."

Jane gave him a sideways look—curious, suspicious—but let it go.

She'd spent enough time in Donald's clinic back in the day. He'd been a great surgeon—Harvard Medical School, top of his class. He could've gone anywhere. But he'd opened his own practice instead.

Why?

Because his leg was damaged. Not visibly crippled, but enough that standing in surgeries for hours wasn't sustainable. So he adapted. Created his own hours. His own rules.

Daniel didn't know that detail.

But what he did know was this: Donald Blake existed, and that meant the threads were starting to come together.

Maybe this world wasn't the MCU exactly. Maybe the timeline was fractured. But if Donald Blake existed, then Thor did too.

And that meant Odin wasn't done yet.

Daniel offered a light smile.

"Dr. Foster… if nothing new turns up here soon, I'd suggest heading back to New York. Clear your mind. Handle your apartment. Sometimes, clarity comes when we stop chasing it."

He glanced around the group. Then, without warning, extended his arm.

Mjolnir, resting silently on the table, trembled—then soared into his hand with a heavy, magnetic thunk.

A heartbeat later, Daniel surged upward.

The hammer carried him into the night sky like a comet, streaking past the observation tower and vanishing into the stars.

"WOAH!" Daisy squealed, jumping back. "Did he just—did he fly off with the hammer?! Is he coming back?!"

Before Jane could answer, Coulson stepped in.

"Mr. Stark. Please follow him. Just in case."

Stark gave Coulson a flat glare.

"If he wanted to disappear, he wouldn't have waited for your permission."

Still, he stepped into the Mark VII suit. With a blast of repulsors and a roar of jets, Iron Man took off into the sky, vanishing after Daniel like a red-hot meteor.

Daisy watched in awe, mouth hanging open.

"This is the coolest thing I've ever seen…"

She forgot the heat, the bugs, the dry desert air. All of it.

Thor's Hammer. Iron Man. The sky full of gods.

And Daniel, flying like thunder.

Coulson stood silently, watching the stars. He rubbed his temple.

We still know so little about Mjolnir…

And less about the man who wielded it.

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