Marvel's FBI?

After Dante opened the portal, the first one to rush into Fox River Prison wasn't Hela or Loki.

It was Ada Wong.

She even hooked herself through with a grappling hook gun.

"What the hell? A portal can be hooked by a grappling hook gun? So this thing has mass now?"

"Are you seriously asking me how portal magic works?"

Ada flipped lightly through the portal and landed in a perfect backflip.

"I'm just a little surprised. What surprises me more is that you actually seem kind of eager to see me."

"To be honest… I really was looking forward to it."

Her gaze softened into something dangerously sweet.

Then she stepped on Dante's foot and ground it in hard.

Did it hurt? Not even a little. It kind of tickled.

But still—manners!

He had to say something! She just stomped on him for no reason!

Fortunately, Dante wasn't wearing shoes anymore—his prison-issue gear had been vaporized during his double-teamed barbecue with Captain Cold and Heat Wave.

If he'd still been wearing those signed sneakers he bought last month?

He might've actually cried.

He didn't know a damn thing about American football, but those collaboration sneakers? Chef's kiss. Gorgeous.

Cheap stuff's only perk is that it's cheap.

Expensive stuff's only flaw is that it's expensive.

Ada's stomp seemed to deflate a bit at Dante's usual casual sarcasm.

But just because her rage subsided didn't mean it disappeared.

She jabbed a finger toward the portal.

"You have some nerve talking like that. I—an emotionally stable, mortal human—have spent an entire month being trained by a galactic war criminal who's conquered multiple planets!"

"Do you even understand what being mortal means? Living in some emotionally ambiguous guy's house, changing outfits just to see if he reacts—but he never takes the bait! Managing a team he never manages! Filing all the paperwork! And guess what—there's not a single sane person on this team who can help me with it!"

"Even while I'm drowning in all that, I still have to train! And the one training me is an actual Asgardian Goddess using her real power! For a salary that doesn't even break six figures! I nearly had to sell an organ just to afford a grappling hook gun!"

"Remind me again why I'm risking my life?!"

Ada's tirade finally snapped Dante back to reality.

Oh. Right.

That was... actually a valid point.

When Hela first proposed "building a Midgard army," Dante had agreed without hesitation.

He figured it'd be good for the superhumans.

What he forgot was that Ada was—relatively speaking—a normal human.

Harley Quinn didn't count. First of all, her brain-to-pain threshold had clearly been reset somewhere along the way.

While she wasn't literally superhuman, her strength, speed, and reflexes were miles beyond any average Agent.

And second…

She was 100% a narrative-anchored, chosen-one-style wildcard. If this universe were a comic book or fanfic written by a half-mad keyboard gremlin, Harley Quinn would absolutely be one of the protagonists.

To put it plainly: Harley Quinn could rally an army tomorrow and take over the world… and no one would be surprised.

"Yeah… that one's on me," Dante admitted. "Kinda unfair grouping you with all the supers."

"Hmph. Even so, I'm still the one who scored the highest in monthly combat evaluations—from the Asgardian Goddess herself." Ada rolled her eyes. "Just because I complain doesn't mean I'm weak."

The moment she let that off her chest, her balance came back.

Then she glanced around the crater.

Her eyes landed on a half-naked golden-haired man in the center.

"Uh… who's that?"

"Oh damn—see, now you've distracted me so bad I forgot the mission briefing." Dante pointed dramatically. "Ada! This is a serious failure of operational conduct. Distracting your leader with flirting and grievances? Tsk, tsk."

"Your punishment will be administered post-mission. Go home, change into white stockings, and prepare for an in-depth conversation with your superior officer. Also, use titles when you talk to me."

With that bit of wildly inappropriate HR violation out of the way, Dante hopped back through the portal.

He didn't bother saying a word to his recovering team, who were still lying flat on the ground like the world's most exhausted chess pieces.

Instead, he looked straight at the Asgardian siblings.

"Come see if this golden-haired dumbass is from your family!"

"Dude's lying face-down in the deepest cell of Fox River wearing nothing but shorts! If he had one piece of clothing more or less, I might've taken him seriously!"

"So what—you're implying all Asgardians are a bit insane?" Loki muttered, standing up and dusting himself off. "Actually… that checks out. We kind of are."

Dante blinked in mild shock.

Holy crap. Loki just… agreed? With logic?

Emotional stability? Self-awareness?

Maybe that beating Clark gave him really did knock his whole personality into alignment.

"Your Majesty," Dante addressed Hela next, "mind elaborating on your earlier comment?"

Hela appeared wearing a high-tier version of her usual black battle armor—same style as when she first broke free from her seal, but clearly tailored and reinforced.

Her presence radiated a potent cocktail of divine authority and regal elegance, wrapped around a dangerously tall woman who probably bench-pressed enemies in her sleep.

Dante felt visual pressure just looking at her.

"What golden-haired dumbass?" she asked, stepping forward with deliberate power. "Did you pick up another stray while I wasn't looking?"

"You call that an ability?" Dante facepalmed. "Do I look like I want this much drama? I didn't choose him! He showed up in a prison crater! I'm 90% sure he's Asgardian. But I need Loki to confirm it."

Hela's frown deepened.

"My brother, isn't this realm—Midgard—a bit too… strange? Why is there another Asgardian here?"

"Don't ask," Loki sighed. "Midgard is built different."

"Let's not forget, even you got sealed in Midgard by Father."

"True. Which means we might be anomalies too."

"No! I made a calculated deal with that lunatic Thanos!" Loki corrected, proudly. "He'd supply the troops, I'd take Midgard. That was an intergalactic mercenary army!"

"And you still got stomped by Clark Kent," Hela said, crossing the portal and firing the killshot mid-stride.

"Big Sis! Can we not bring that up every time? I'm still under fifteen hundred years old!"

Loki followed her through the portal, sulking.

"That whole invasion failed because I chose the wrong city. If I had picked New York—wait no, not New York, Dante's there. Maybe—Washington? No, not Washington either—Dante's also there—ugh!"

"You didn't choose anything," Dante snapped, spinning around. "If you had picked New York, Stark alone couldn't have stopped the Chitauri. FBI teams wouldn't either."

"But if you had…"

"I'd deliver your head to Odin personally."

Dante gave Loki a tight pat on the shoulder and shoved him toward the half-naked thunder god.

"Go check if this guy looks familiar. Blonde, brainless, probably your non-blood-related brother with identical cognitive malfunctions."

Loki hesitated, then rushed over.

He crouched next to the golden-haired man, squinted at his face—and immediately burst into laughter.

"Wahahaha! Thor! It's really you! I never imagined you'd end up like this! My glorious big brother—what are you doing lying here half-naked, butt in the air, passed out in a Midgard prison?"

"They say Midgard prisons love handsome men, you know."

Hela wasn't one for subtlety.

She walked past them and stepped directly on Thor's ass, using him as a footstool to examine the surrounding magic arrays.

Honestly, Hela didn't care much about this younger brother she'd never met.

He looked too much like Odin, which triggered her every time.

If anything, she preferred Loki—the troublemaker frost giant who, deep down, was just as twisted as Odin himself.

But even Hela's nonchalance had its limits.

Because the moment she stomped his rear, Thor groaned and started waking up.

The first thing he saw?

Loki.

"Loki, you scoundrel!" Thor barked. "You tricked me with that distress signal!!"

(To be continued.)

***

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