Taskmaster crashed into the rooftop with a brutal thud, the stone beneath him cracking under the force. He gasped, his suit flickering with damage indicators. He rolled to the side just before a secondary gravity spike could pin him in place.
Despite the pain, he forced himself up, red light flashing across his visor as internal diagnostics whirred to life. "You're talented, I'll give you that... but untested," Taskmaster spat, his tone strained. "And worse—inconsistent."
Dave just chuckled, arms crossed now, his coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. "Coming from a guy who copies everyone else's moves, that's rich."
"You think magic makes you unbeatable?"
"No," Dave replied with a calm smile. "But it makes me... creative."
Taskmaster staggered to his feet, jet-boosts firing just enough to keep him steady. "You're dangerous."
"And you're not the first to say that," Dave replied, his tone sharpening. "Now run along, copycat. Unless you want to see what happens when I stop holding back."
Taskmaster narrowed his eyes. His HUD was blaring at him—injuries, suit instability, critical threat analysis: Dave Garcia ranked as high as any known meta or enhanced in SHIELD's database.
With a low growl, Taskmaster tapped his wrist, triggering emergency evac protocol. A retrieval drone zipped in overhead.
As it latched onto his back and began lifting him up, Taskmaster looked down one last time.
"You're ten times stronger than your file says," he admitted. "But also ten times more unpredictable. That's what makes you dangerous."
Dave gave a casual wave. "Bye now."
As Taskmaster disappeared into the clouds, Dave turned back toward the city lights.
"Lucky guy," Dave mumbled, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he resumed his stroll down the rooftop's edge. "If I had even one percent more of my real power in this body, I would've wiped the floor with him."
The city lights shimmered below, neon bouncing off windows like liquid fire. Dave's steps were slow, thoughtful, the tension from the encounter already fading like smoke.
"Hmm... what should I do? There's not much happening anyway," Dave muttered as he hummed and walked casually along the sidewalk. Just then, he spotted Spider-Man—without the mask—standing nearby, clearly recognizing him.
"Where are you going?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dave shrugged, not stopping. "Don't know. Just wandering around. I would've liked to fight someone or something by now, but it's all getting kind of boring."
Peter tilted his head and smirked. "Well then, how about you fight me?"
" I mena I woul like to see how one fight a Mage, though we also have Dr. Strange but his magic is not like yours so I want to fight and see how it would be to fight you"
Dave turned with a grin. "Cool. Let's see what Spider-Man's really got, anyway."
With that, Peter took off in a backflip, webbing up to the nearest building. Dave cracked his knuckles and started jogging after him, not even needing to run—just letting gravity magic pull him upward effortlessly as he floated into the air.
"Let's keep this friendly!" Peter called out from a rooftop, crouched and ready. "I don't wanna explain to Fury why a new magic guy turned me into street art."
"Can't promise that," Dave chuckled, his hands glowing faintly as he prepared a simple wind-enhanced dash spell. "But I'll try not to roast your suit too bad."
The rooftop trembled slightly as Peter launched forward, slinging a rapid web at Dave's chest. Dave tilted his head with a grin and flicked two fingers—wind burst. The web was shredded midair, scattering like ribbons in a breeze.
"Whoa!" Peter yelped, flipping over the next gust. "Okay, so you're not just flashy lights and big words!"
Dave raised a hand and conjured a glowing rune midair. "Flashy? C'mon, I call this subtle."
The rune detonated a burst of concussive force that sent Peter sprawling backward, only for him to catch himself with a webline mid-fall and slingshot back toward Dave, foot-first.
Dave caught the kick with a shield of pure force—an invisible wall that shimmered briefly with impact.
"Nice," Dave nodded, impressed. "You're fast. Let's crank it up."
He stomped, and the rooftop cracked—gravity magic surged upward in a dome, pulling at Peter from multiple angles. Peter staggered mid-air, like a puppet caught in a tangle of strings.
"Okay! That's cheating!" he yelled, flailing before spinning a complex web net and launching it downward. It wrapped around Dave like a cocoon.
Peter landed, panting. "Gotcha!"
Then a burst of heat and wind tore it apart in a single pulse, leaving Dave standing in the center, cloak fluttering, eyes glowing faintly.
"Bro," Dave smirked. "This ain't my final form."
"Of course it's not," Peter muttered. "Magic guys always say that."
Just then, a SHIELD drone zipped by overhead, pausing midair to scan the fight. Fury's voice crackled through Peter's comm:
"Hey. If you two are done playing Dragon Ball on rooftops, maybe come down before someone mistakes you for actual threats."
Peter looked at Dave. Dave just shrugged. "Call it a warm-up."
They both dropped down to a lower fire escape, the rooftop now cracked and smoky.
"So... lunch?" Peter asked, brushing off his suit.
Dave grinned. "You're buying, Webhead."
The smell of fried chicken filled the air as the two of them sat at an outdoor bench, KFC buckets and greasy wrappers already piling up between them.
Dave bit into a hot wing, steam rising. "You know, for all the multiverse madness, fried chicken really is a constant."
Peter chuckled between bites of a zinger burger. "Right? Doesn't matter what dimension you're from—good fried food hits."
They ate in peace for a while, talking casually—about web fluid types, rune complexity, bad bosses (Peter: J. Jonah Jameson, Dave: a Google team lead who micromanaged his entire project), and what their favorite anime arcs were.
Dave leaned back, sipping soda. "Okay, real talk—what's it like being Spider-Man 24/7? You ever get time to, I don't know, just vibe?"
Peter wiped his hands on a napkin. "Sometimes. Not often. It's kinda like a job where the phone never stops ringing. And sometimes that phone is screaming, exploding, or on fire."
"That sounds about right," Dave nodded. "Magic feels the same. Just replace 'phone' with 'ancient artifact that really wants to melt reality.'"
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