Marvel's FBI?

"What is it? You… don't recognize me either?"

Dante looked a little surprised, but still tossed the question out there, because of course he did.

"Are you a third-rate opera singer? Why would I know you? I don't have a single coin to throw in your hat."

Constantine was mocking Dante with every word. But honestly, Dante thought he looked kind of adorable right now.

Finally. Two opponents in a row who weren't ridiculously well-informed.

Being infamous wasn't always as glamorous as people thought.

"Right, right, right. Don't recognize me. Best case scenario."

Dante could practically applaud Constantine right now.

Sure, with that loser's level of magic, digging up someone's identity wouldn't have been hard at all.

But Constantine was completely fixated on the so-called "artifact."

Snart was gasping for air on the ground. Which was weird—this short a jog shouldn't have worn him out that bad.

"So what am I now, huh? A taxi?"

"Hahaha, Mr. Snart, don't be so grim," Constantine said with a grin. "How could you be a taxi? You're clearly a five-star luxury hotel. It's just that opening a pocket dimension portal siphons a huge chunk of your stamina. Don't worry—just rest up at home for, oh, a few months at most…"

Dante raised an eyebrow. That little exchange told him everything he needed to know.

Constantine, that shameless bastard, had been hiding in a pocket space connected to Snart's back for at least half a year. Sure, he wasn't completely cut off from the world, but clearly he'd only been communicating with other mages.

No wonder he didn't know who Dante was.

But whether he did or not didn't matter.

What amazed Dante more was how Constantine always managed to sprint to the front lines when it came to "borrowing" other people's gear.

No matter how many artifacts he got his hands on, he still wasn't a match for demons like Nero.

Then again…

Constantine's cheat code was his shamelessness and confidence.

Even when he didn't have a single artifact on him, Hell's biggest names still couldn't kill him.

And that was probably the scariest thing about the guy.

Meanwhile, Mick Rory—who'd been trailing behind Dante and Snart—finally caught up, panting.

"Snart! You still alive?!"

"Damn it! Have you ever seen a dead guy gasping for air!?"

"He's a magician! Who knows if that's a ghost version of you still talking! I've seen it in anime and novels!"

"Don't confuse fiction with reality!"

"Isn't our whole situation more ridiculous than fiction?!"

Seriously—one guy powered by a green ring, one guy who was a literal magician. Technically "ordinary people," but running around like they belonged here.

Were they just screwing with them?

Or screwing with death?

Mick wanted to stall a bit longer, hoping Snart would get his strength back so they could make a break for it.

But Dante kicked him aside without warning.

"Reflex. My bad."

Mick curled up, groaning on the ground, clutching his side.

The only reason Dante had time to casually bully Mick was because…

He'd seen what the artifact actually was.

"So, folks, pleasure running into you here. Now, Constantine's gonna grab his artifact and bounce through a dimensional portal."

Constantine gave Dante a theatrical bow, then strode toward the center of the crater.

He bent down, reached out, braced himself—smug as ever.

And promptly overexerted, lost his balance, and faceplanted into the dirt.

"Pfft—HAHAHAHAHA! That's what you get for acting like the main character!"

Dante laughed with zero restraint.

What a joke.

With that personality, Constantine actually thought he could pick up Mjolnir?

Ordinary folks couldn't even budge it.

And as for Constantine—if the universe was fair, he should've been struck by eighty-one lightning before even getting close to the hammer.

Falling on his face was getting off easy.

But… what the hell was Mjolnir doing here?

Something didn't add up.

Dante scratched his head. Logically Thor should still be in Asgard, right?

Sure, Loki had said he sent out a distress signal to his brother…

But since when did backup actually arrive the second someone hit send?

Especially when that someone was Thor—the world's densest blond—and a bunch of Asgardians who thought "time" was something mortals worried about.

It'd be a miracle if he showed up within the same fiscal quarter.

Still, here Mjolnir was, just lying there, and Constantine couldn't even twitch it.

That probably meant it was the real deal.

And Constantine wasn't dumb enough to grab the thing barehanded unless he really thought he could take it.

So if Mjolnir was here…

Then the God of Thunder couldn't be far.

Dante glanced at the sealed door at the far end of the chamber.

---

"ACHOO! ACHOO!! ACHOO!!!"

Loki, who was resting on the floor, suddenly sneezed three times in a row.

"You okay? You caught a cold?" Pietro, sitting to his left, was panting but still had enough breath to sound concerned.

"You idiot. I'm the God of Mischief. From Asgard. I'm not even human. I just look human. Our internal structure's completely different, okay? If I could catch a cold from Earth's viruses, this planet would've been extinct a long time ago."

"Then someone's talking about you," Wanda said from his right. She looked exhausted, but kept twirling Scarlet Energy between her fingers—practicing energy control by disassembling the Tesseract.

Loki taught her that. Apparently, it was how real Nine Realms assassins trained their magical finesse.

"Huh? Talking about me? Where'd you hear that superstition?"

"Big Sis Hela's phone. The internet is amazing. It says if you sneeze once, someone's cursing you. Twice, someone's missing you. Three times, someone's talking about you…"

"Do you believe online clickbait, or do you believe that I—Loki—am the undisputed leader of the Star Team?"

Loki rolled his eyes.

Ever since Dante dropped these two mutant gremlins off, he hadn't lifted a finger to raise them.

Loki had somehow ended up as their default guardian.

If Dante was the deadbeat dad who picked up kids and dumped them at home…

Then Loki was the unlucky older brother who had to raise them.

Over the past month… Loki was exhausted.

Now he understood how Thor and Odin must've felt cleaning up after his messes.

"You're the leader of the Star Team? Then can you get Big Sis Hela to hit me one less time today?" Pietro whined. "She hits hard! My body can't take it anymore!"

Loki rolled another eye labeled "hopeless."

This dumb kid seriously couldn't read the room.

If he really had that kind of authority, the first thing he'd do was cancel this hellish "training regimen," which was basically just constant beatings.

But he had to admit—Hela, as Asgard's former supreme war commander, had a lot of experience training soldiers.

And her abuse was tailor-made for each of them.

Loki's daily regimen? Materialize Dante's face out of energy… while dodging ten flying Nightsword.

Now just seeing Dante's face gave him phantom pain.

His body twitched instinctively like the wounds were being reopened.

That said, he had noticed his magic improving faster than ever.

And more importantly, in real combat, he wasn't instinctively reaching for his dagger anymore—he was using magic first.

Of course…

He still loved his daggers best.

A mage who doesn't want to be an assassin isn't real.

Meanwhile, up ahead, Hela and Harley Quinn were squaring off.

"As a mortal—and one without any notable abilities—"

"Who says I don't have abilities!" Harley yanked up her torn fishnet stockings. "My legs are very special!"

"I meant combat ability!"

"Yeah, and they're very useful in combat. I just flash Dante a peek of the fishnets—bam! Instant distraction! That's how I land sneak attacks every time."

"You… are insane."

After a month of binging the internet, Hela's speech had shifted from half-ancient royalty to something way more casual.

But even now, she still didn't know where to begin when talking to this psychologist-turned-chaotic-bombshell.

Even though Harley wasn't that physically strong, and didn't have any real powers, she somehow still outperformed the mutant twins in almost every fight.

Sometimes, even Loki couldn't match her actual combat results.

It just didn't make sense.

Even for someone with mental issues, this level of chaos shouldn't be possible.

For someone who'd commanded armies across the Nine Realms for millennia, Harley was just… beyond calculation.

Just as Hela was about to rethink her entire strategy for analyzing Harley…

A portal suddenly opened behind her.

Dante, now in full Green Lantern armor, poked his head through.

"You two Asgardian siblings! Get over here!"

"Come check if this golden-haired idiot belongs to your family!"

(To be continued.)