For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
Peter practically fell into the lecture hall, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The room was a massive, tiered amphitheater, and every single seat seemed to be filled. Dr. Curt Connors was at the front, a formidable man with a sharp gaze and one arm, already deep into a lecture on cellular mitosis, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.
A hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at Peter as he stumbled in. He felt a thousand degrees hot. He mumbled an apology to no one in particular and scrambled up the stairs to the last available seat in the highest, most remote row—the nosebleed section of academia. He dropped his bag to the floor with a heavy thud and slumped into the chair, his lungs burning.
He'd made it. He was late, he'd made a scene, and his first impression on his personal hero, Dr. Connors, was that of a tardy, disruptive mess. Parker Luck, right on schedule.
He tried to focus. He really did. He pulled out a notebook and a pen, clicking it with determination. Dr. Connors was talking about kinase inhibitors, a topic that would normally have Peter on the edge of his seat, scribbling notes furiously. But his mind was a traitor. It wasn't in the lecture hall. It was back in the quad, replaying a moment that lasted no more than thirty seconds.
Diana.
The name echoed in his thoughts. He could still feel the phantom pressure of her hand on his bicep. It was the strength that haunted him. He'd been held by the Hulk; he knew what superhuman power felt like. This wasn't that. It wasn't brutal or explosive. It was… absolute. Like leaning against a mountain and expecting it to move. His scientifically-minded brain frantically searched for an explanation. Advanced polymer weave in her gloves? No, she wasn't wearing any. Maybe she's a rock climber? All tendons and grip strength? But no explanation felt adequate. It was like trying to explain away the sky being blue. It just was.
And her eyes. He'd seen a lot of things through his mask—fear, anger, desperation. But he'd never seen eyes that held that kind of serene, ancient calm. Like she'd seen empires rise and fall before breakfast.
A question, scrawled on the projection screen, pulled him back to reality. "What is the primary role of cyclin-dependent kinases in cell cycle regulation?"
Peter stared at the words, but his own, more pressing question drowned them out.
Who are you, Diana?
Diana watched him sprint away, a chaotic blur of lanky limbs and frantic energy. A smile, genuine and unbidden, touched her lips. She had been in the World of Man for only a few weeks, and it was a constant barrage of bewildering customs, strange noises, and bafflingly bland food. But it was people like him that made it fascinating. He was like an open book written in a language she was still learning—full of earnestness, anxiety, and a complete lack of physical awareness. He was… endearing.
She started walking towards her own destination, the Department of Classical Studies. As she moved, she flexed the fingers of the hand that had caught him. The brief contact had been more revealing than he could ever know. When he stumbled, her instincts, honed by centuries of Amazonian training, had taken over. Stopping his fall had required no more thought or effort than breathing.
But there had been a flicker of something else.
Beneath the frantic, clumsy energy of the boy, she had sensed a strange resonance. A thrum of latent power, tightly coiled and hidden deep beneath the surface. It was faint, like a distant echo of a song she once knew, but it was undeniably there. It wasn't divine, not like the power of the Gods she knew. It was something different. Something… other.
In a world of mortals, whose vitality felt to her senses like the soft, steady glow of candlelight, Peter Parker had flared for a fraction of a second like a spark from a forge.
Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, had warned her that the mortal world would be full of surprises. That she would need to be careful, to observe, to learn before acting. Diana had assumed she meant the politics, the technology, the wars. She had not expected the biggest mystery on this sprawling campus to be a flustered, late-for-class science student.
She felt a sense of curiosity she hadn't experienced in a very long time. Her mission was to be a bridge between her world and this one. Perhaps, she considered, the first step to understanding humanity was to understand its most curious contradictions.
Later that day, Peter found refuge in the one place he knew would be quiet: the library. It was a cathedral of books, smelling of aging paper and floor polish. He found an empty carrel in the back of the science section and tried once again to make sense of his biophysics textbook.
He'd been reading the same paragraph for ten minutes.
With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes. He scanned the cavernous room, his gaze drifting over students hunched over laptops and stacks of books. He told himself he was just taking a break. He knew he was looking for a ghost.
And then he found her.
She was two aisles over, in the history section, pulling a thick, leather-bound volume from a high shelf. She did it with an easy, fluid grace that made the simple action look like a choreographed dance. Peter's heart gave a stupid, embarrassing lurch.
Okay, Parker. Be cool. This is your second chance. Don't mention gravity. Do not talk about her grip strength. Just be a normal human being.
He watched as she settled at a nearby table, opening the heavy tome. She seemed completely absorbed. This was his chance to just walk away, to avoid further humiliation. But his feet, apparently acting on their own accord, began to move.
He stopped at her table, his shadow falling across the page. She looked up, and her blue eyes widened slightly in recognition.
"Peter," she said, her voice just as melodic in the library's hush. "I see you survived your lecture."
"Barely," he admitted, a nervous smile twitching on his lips. "Dr. Connors doesn't really do 'easing you in.' What's that you're reading?"
She tilted the book so he could see the title, written in faded gold leaf. 'The Pre-Homeric Accounts of the Amazonian Tribes.'
"Wow. Light reading, huh?" he said, genuinely impressed.
"I have an interest in mythology," she said, her expression unreadable. "And the line between myth and history is often thinner than we think. What about you? Saving the world with biophysics?"
The question was so close to the truth it made him flinch. "Just trying to understand it," he corrected, tapping the cover of his own textbook. "Cellular mechanics. It's like a whole universe inside a single drop of water."
He saw a flicker of genuine interest in her eyes. "A universe of order and rules."
"And chaos," he added. "Lots and lots of chaos. That's what makes it interesting."
She smiled, a real smile that reached her eyes. "Perhaps we have something in common then."
An idea, both brilliant and terrifying, popped into his head. "Hey, so, I'm probably going to be living in this place for the next week trying to decipher Connors' notes. If you're ever around and… you know… want to trade notes on chaos and history, maybe we could study together?"
He held his breath.
Diana looked at him for a long moment, her gaze analytical but kind. "I would like that, Peter."
"Cool," he breathed out, feeling a ridiculous grin spread across his face. "Cool."
He retreated back to his own table before he could say anything else stupid, his heart doing a victory lap in his chest. He still had no idea who Diana was. But for the first time since setting foot on this campus, he didn't feel like an imposter. He felt like he'd just found an ally.S