New York University—a name that carries the weight of nearly two centuries of prestige. Since 1831, it has evolved into a global titan of research, a sprawling collection of eighteen colleges woven into the very fabric of Manhattan.
In his personal life, Oliver Blue Parker was a standout student at NYU, though his academic success was only half the story.
To the public, he was the prodigy behind the "Throne Literature Network," the mind that had "authored" Game of Thrones and 23 Broke Girls, turning them into cultural phenomena in this timeline.
While other seventeen-year-olds were worrying about prom, Oliver was fielding enrollment calls from every Ivy League school in the country.
He had chosen NYU for two reasons. First, it was close to the Parker home in Queens, allowing him to stay near Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Second, and more importantly, it was the exact ground where Peter Parker and Harry Osborn were studying biology.
In the beginning, Oliver hadn't realized the magnitude of the family that had adopted him. It wasn't until Peter—the young, orphaned son of Richard and Mary Parker—was dropped off at the house that the pieces clicked.
The boy who slept in the room across the hall, three months his junior, was the future Spider-Man.
In this universe, Peter was the "Amazing" variant—tall, lanky, and possessing a brilliant but disorganized mind. Oliver had spent years subtly guiding his "brother," even befriending Harry Osborn, the future Green Goblin.
"Damn it... why didn't the system give me the Shadow Clone Technique?" Oliver muttered, chewing on the end of a pencil in the NYU library. "Maintaining two lives is a nightmare."
As Oliver Blue Parker, he had to actually study. University-level biology and physics were grueling, even for a transmigrator. He couldn't just copy-paste his way through a degree; he had to understand the industry he was pretending to lead.
"Hey, Blue." A head popped over the top of his textbook. "Wow, actually studying? You're the only one of the 'Three Musketeers' who isn't falling behind. Where was that internship you took last month? Oscorp or Stark?"
Oliver looked up into the messy brown hair of Peter Parker. "Peter, can you please do something about the 'bird's nest' on your head? Also, any progress with Gwen, or are you still just taking pictures of her from behind bookshelves?"
Mentioning Gwen Stacy made the future Spider-Man turn a bright shade of crimson. He smiled awkwardly, fidgeting with his camera strap.
"Is it that obvious?" Peter whispered.
"Only to everyone with eyes. Why haven't you asked her out? Or are you waiting for Harry to swoop in?" Oliver teased, keeping his voice low to satisfy the library's silence.
"No!" Peter's reaction was a bit too loud, drawing glares from several students. "I... I won't let that happen."
A soft, clear cough came from the table directly opposite them. A blonde girl with thick bangs and sharp, intelligent eyes looked up from her notes. Her face was slightly flushed.
Peter froze, looking like a deer in headlights. He immediately sat down and buried his face in his book.
"Hahaha..." Oliver let out a soft, rhythmic laugh.
"Blue, did you know she was sitting there the whole time?" Peter hissed under his breath.
Oliver ignored him, leaning forward to address the girl. "Gwen. Peter mentioned he has two premiere tickets for the Superman movie—the one based on the web novel. He wanted to know if you'd like to go with him? Sadly, I'm 'busy' with an internship that day."
Peter's heart nearly beat out of his chest. He looked at Oliver with an expression that screamed 'I don't have those tickets!'
Gwen's eyes lit up with genuine surprise. "Peter? Really? The premiere for the Superman series from the Throne Network? I've been trying to get those for weeks, but they sold out in seconds. How did you manage that?"
Oliver gave Peter a sharp kick under the table.
"Uh... yeah! Absolutely," Peter stammered, his voice an octave higher than usual. "I... I have a connection. Through Blue. So, are you free?"
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Gwen whispered excitedly, leaning in. "But Peter, you might want to turn your book over. You're reading it upside down."
As Gwen walked away with a triumphant smile, Peter slumped into his chair. "Blue, where am I supposed to get premiere tickets? The Throne Network is legendary for being exclusive!"
"Don't worry about it," Oliver said, packing his bag. "You forget who your brother is. Just be ready by Friday. Harry's meeting us for lunch in the dorms—don't be late."
As he watched Peter wander off to sneak one last photo of Gwen, Oliver felt a pang of guilt, followed by excitement.
Tomorrow was the day. The cosmic storm was coming, and he wouldn't be Oliver Blue Parker the student. He would be Oliver Throne, the man reaching for the power of the gods.
The following morning, at the Space Launch Bureau, the atmosphere was electric. Oliver Throne had arrived early, now disguised in his older, "professional" persona. He was currently pulling on a specialized suit—a high-tech, form-fitting outfit made of unstable synthetic fibers.
In the world of narrative, there are constants and variables. Oliver knew that for the Fantastic Four to be born, certain factors had to remain the same.
"Sorry, Oliver," Reed Richards said, approaching him with a distracted look. "Since you're technically a private consultant funded by Stark, I can't give you the full classified data on the station's shielding. I hope you understand."
Tony Stark had played his part perfectly. He had convinced Reed that Oliver was a brilliant "university prodigy" who just wanted to observe the project for his thesis.
In exchange, Tony had provided twenty-five million dollars and a suite of high-end sensors that Reed couldn't afford.
"Don't worry about the data, Reed," Oliver said, zipping up his suit. "You've already given me the only thing I care about: a seat on that station."
Oliver didn't care about the patents or the corporate drama. He knew that after the storm, Reed's company would collapse into a heap of lawsuits and metal. The real prize was the radiation.
"The Captain is here!" a boisterous voice boomed across the hangar.
BenjaminGrimm (Ben), the seasoned pilot, was standing tall, looking every bit the stoic commander—until a camera flash went off in his face.
A young man with a cocky grin, dressed in the same blue suit as Oliver, lowered a digital camera.
This was Johnny Storm—the future Human Torch.
Ben growled, reaching out as if to swat the younger man, but instead just straightened Johnny's collar with a rough tug. "I can handle this ship, Reed. I just don't know if I can handle this bleached-blonde punk for three days in a tin can."
"I'm also worried about the suits," Ben continued, tugging at the tight fabric. "Who designed these? Do I look like I'm heading to space or a swan dance?"
"They were designed in the lab," a smooth, feminine voice interrupted.
Susan Storm—the future Invisible Woman—walked into the room. Her suit was partially unzipped, framing a look of effortless grace and intelligence. Her eyes immediately darted to Reed, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"The synthetic fiber acts like a second skin," Susan explained, walking toward the group. "It's designed to adapt to the wearer's biology. It's a marvel of molecular engineering."
Reed, true to his nature, didn't look at the beautiful woman in front of him. He looked at the sleeve of her suit. "Unstable self-regulating molecules... incredible. I've been theorizing about a material that could maintain its integrity under high-energy bombardment for years!"
Susan's smile faltered slightly. She looked at Ben and sighed. Oliver stepped in, extending a hand to Susan.
"Miss Storm. I'm Oliver Throne. It's an honor to meet the head of genetic research for this project."
Susan shook his hand, her smile returning. "A pleasure, Oliver. Reed mentioned you're a friend of Tony Stark. He speaks very highly of your 'intuition.'"
"Reed mentions you quite a bit, too," Oliver whispered, leaning in. "Though usually in the context of how your DNA sequences are 'fascinating.' He's a bit of a blockhead, but he means well."
Susan laughed, a genuine, warm sound. "I've noticed. Thank you, Oliver."
After the introductions, the group began the boarding process. The technology was state-of-the-art, but as the massive rockets ignited and the G-force began to pin Oliver into his seat, he realized one very important thing.
He had never been on a rocket before. And as the Earth began to shrink beneath them, a pale blue marble suspended in the void, the "writer" in him was suddenly replaced by a very human, very nauseous teenager.
"Is it... is it supposed to shake this much?" Oliver managed to choke out.
Johnny Storm laughed from the seat next to him. "Relax, rookie! The ride's just getting started!"
Oliver closed his eyes, centering his breathing. He could feel his chakra—thin and fragile—circulating through his body. He was hours away from the storm. The system's countdown was ticking.
Just stay conscious, he told himself. The light is coming.