After returning to FBI Headquarters and reporting to Fury and Professor X,
Dante invited Wanda, Pietro, and Loki inside.
Fury and Professor X—looked at Dante's actions with mild confusion.
Hadn't he already reported the general details of the mission?
What now?
Still not done?
"Uh, these siblings are Wanda and Pietro, Magneto's kids."
That one line left Professor X completely stunned.
"And that one over there is Loki, God of Mischief from Asgard. The guy who opened the giant wormhole over Metropolis a while back. He's now a new agent who's signed a 250-year employment contract with our Federal Bureau of Investigation."
That second line left Fury looking like he just stepped on a rake.
Both men turned to Dante with matching expressions of "Excuse me, the hell now?"
Wasn't this supposed to be a routine HYDRA op with the X-Men?
How did we go from that to Magneto's children and a literal Norse god?
"You sure these two are Erik's?"
"Absolutely. First thing I did when I got back was run a DNA test—Magneto's genome vs. theirs. 100% match."
"DNA test?" Professor X hesitated. "Okay but… setting them aside for a second, how'd you get Erik's DNA?"
"Uh, kidnapping?" Dante shrugged. "It's a long and emotional story about fathers and children that I really don't feel like reliving right now."
After Dante gave a third-person, heavily dramatized summary that may or may not have included flashbacks and unnecessary narration, Professor X finally pieced together the whole story.
"I see… well, since they're Erik's children, let the X-Men handle—actually, no. Just send them to the FBI Academy. That place is crawling with mutants and kids with all kinds of weird powers. They won't stand out there."
Professor X turned to the twins.
"Don't be scared, children. Your father and I were very close back in the day. You can call me Professor X, or Dean. I'll take care of you from now on."
The man's natural kindness—and not-so-subtle telepathy—calmed the siblings, who didn't seem inclined to resist.
But—
"Sorry, Professor X. We want to… go with him."
Wanda and Pietro exchanged glances and pointed at Dante in unison.
Dante, who was happily minding his own business in the corner, froze.
"…Huh? Me?"
He pointed at himself, unsure whether he was hallucinating.
"Yes, Dante. We only trust him."
The siblings' tone left no room for negotiation. Professor X, ever the diplomat, found himself stuck. He looked to Dante like: "What the hell did you do to make them imprint on you?"
Dante scratched his head. "Uh, sure, they can follow me. I mean… the Academy's a good fit, and the kids there at least have some control over their powers. So if they mess up, the fallout isn't catastrophic."
He glanced at the twins.
"These two, on the other hand, had their powers awaken under extreme conditions. It's unstable. If something goes sideways, the cleanup's gonna be a nightmare."
Fury nodded and turned to Loki, who was poking at a weird ornament on his desk with all the interest of a cat.
"Alright, then. This mutant sibling pair and the so-called 'God of Mischief' are now part of Star Team, under your command and supervision. And stop touching my ornament! That's an artifact excavated from an Incan site! It's over six hundred years old!"
"Only six hundred?" Loki scoffed and tossed it back. "I've got goblets older than that stuffed in storage."
Fury sighed. He knew exactly how to handle Dante—dump everything on him. If it's messy, complicated, or has even a whiff of multiversal chaos, shove it in Dante's inbox and walk away.
Call it poetic justice.
Speaking of poetry, he was getting hungry.
"Charles, since this operation's wrapped, I'm taking you out to that new French place in Washington. My treat."
Without waiting for a reply, Fury spun Professor X's wheelchair around and peaced out of the Director's office at speed.
Leaving Dante standing awkwardly with his new entourage.
"Well then, dear Captain," Loki said as he stretched lazily, "how about prepping our new home? I did sign an actual employment contract. You promised free meals, housing, and a generous salary. Don't tell me you're backing out."
Dante let out a deep sigh.
Now what?
Take them home, obviously.
Luckily, there were enough rooms.
Although Ada might not be thrilled.
...
After getting everyone settled with food, beds, and a decent Wi-Fi connection, Dante finally earned a short rest day…
Which wasn't supposed to happen.
But Loki, ever the wildcard, had a surprise in store.
Although Wanda and Pietro's powers came from their X-genes, they were triggered by Loki's scepter. That created some weird feedback loop between the three.
Specifically, Loki could use residual energy from the scepter to help them master their abilities faster.
Of course, that didn't mean he could actually wield the Mind Stone—just that he could tap into some of the power leaking out of it.
Apparently, the guy didn't even know his stick had an Infinity Stone lodged inside.
Loki was smart, sure, but in some areas, he was just as thickheaded as Thor.
Maybe being Odin's kid did that to you.
No blood relation required.
Anyway, with his babysitting duties on pause, Dante finally had time to check out his new powers.
No need to test physical attributes—he'd already seen those in action.
Case in point: when they got home, Pietro got excited and went full speedster mode out of nowhere. His power spike could've sent him flying straight through the walls.
Dante intercepted him instinctively, no big deal.
Next up: Diamond Form and teleportation magic.
"Alright, Diamond Form first."
Dante muttered to himself and activated it.
The transformation started from the heart and rapidly spread across his body. In the blink of an eye, he became a full-on diamond man.
He flexed his fist. The strength boost was there—maybe one or two extra tons—but the real kicker was his durability.
Fire, ice, bullets? Nothing.
And the best part?
Near-infinite stamina.
"Sweet. Next up—teleportation magic. Where should I go…"
Dante scratched his head.
After a minute of indecision, he spun a globe, shut his eyes, and jabbed a random spot.
"Norway? Sure. Let's go see how lonely those Norwegian forests really are."
He activated teleportation magic, calculated the coordinates, and conjured a portal à la Doctor Doom.
Stepping through, he instantly landed…
"…What the hell?"
This… was not Norway.
There were no fjords. No snow. No trees.
Just a massive underground city.
Above him? A ceiling of pitch-black stone.
"Who goes there?"
A low, husky, incredibly sexy voice rang out from the shadows.
Dante frowned. There were people here?
What, lost hikers?
No time to analyze. He jogged toward the voice.
"Are you trapped here? What's your name?"
There was a pause.
Then—
"Yes. I'm trapped."
"And who I am…"
"Odin's eldest daughter. Commander of Asgard's legions. First in line to the throne. Hela, Goddess of Death."
Hela, Goddess of Death, isn't one of the Big Five cosmic deities of the Marvel Universe.
Her rank is a bit lower.
But that's only in comparison to those reality-bending creation gods. Among the heroes and villains actually known on Earth, other than the big guy in red and blue underwear worn outside his pants, only Doctor Doom could go toe-to-toe with someone like Hela—someone operating at a full-on Heavenly Father level.
Back when Hela fought beside Odin to conquer the Nine Realms, she was absolutely a top-tier powerhouse.
Because of her divine nature, she governs the reincarnation cycle of Asgardian gods.
Normally, when someone dies, their soul exits the body.
But for Asgardians, their soul lingers in the body until the Goddess of Death comes to collect it and deliver it to its final destination.
That very connection to the cycle of life and death is what lets Hela match Odin's power completely when she's standing on Asgardian soil.
And right now, this same Death Goddess—theoretically the rightful heir to Asgard's throne—is sitting on a crude obsidian throne.
Her surroundings may be barebones, but her queenly aura is still undeniable…
Assuming you could ignore the slightly messy, adorably disheveled hair.
Honestly? Hela might be the most stunning Big Sis-type Dante had ever laid eyes on.
And the "Big" part?
Well, she's seven feet tall.
Who wouldn't love that?
Big Sis is the best.
"I was sealed away for a thousand years… banished from my home!"
"So now... am I just supposed to give up and die?"
"I am the heir to Asgard. I was born to rule the Nine Realms. Now, mortal of Midgard—kneel before your Queen!"
Dante scratched his head.
He was into queens, sure, but not this kind of queen.
"Dear Death Goddess, I'm just a mortal who learned a bit of teleportation magic and accidentally stumbled in here. I'll be leaving now."
"Teleportation magic? What kind of teleportation magic can bypass a dimensional seal?" Hela narrowed her eyes. "If what you say is true… then there's only one explanation."
"What explanation?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. If you can break through a dimensional seal… then you can take me out."
Hela stood up abruptly, and her flawless, god-tier proportions instantly filled Dante's field of view.
Her hands gripped Dante's shoulders with surprising strength.
For the first time, her regal face revealed something close to eagerness—a rare, human expression that made you want to start clapping.
"That's easy for you to say, but… why should I help you?" Dante said, unfazed.
He had no defense against the Big Sis type, sure—but he wasn't an idiot.
He knew exactly who Hela was.
"Do I look like an Asgardian god to you?"
That caught her off guard.
She closed her eyes, focused, then opened them again—this time with a spark of genuine surprise.
"No aura from Asgard... but you really do have an Asgardian physique. Are you a hybrid? Midgardian and Asgardian bloodline?"
"Nope. Just a Midgardian mortal. But let's say I got my hands on an Asgardian body through… a lucky encounter. My physical stats are already above most Asgardians. I'm basically no different from one of your so-called 'gods.'"
"I see."
Hela nodded, catching on instantly.
Made sense. She'd conquered the Nine Realms—she'd seen stranger things.
Unlike her dimwit younger brother, Thor, who would've wasted time trying to dig into every last detail.
Perspective.
Honestly, Odin's talent-scouting record was tragic. Compared to his eldest daughter, that son of his was a walking disappointment.
"So, taking you out of here is doable. But I'm not doing it for free," Dante said, adjusting the teleportation coordinates. "When you return to Asgard and reclaim your throne, I want a formal alliance."
Hela raised an eyebrow. "An alliance?"
"Exactly. You want power, stability, maybe even vengeance. I want access—resources, protection, and certain... strategic freedoms. With you on the throne and me backing you, we both get what we want."
He smiled innocently.
"I'm not asking to rule beside you. I'm asking to stand where it matters, close enough to make things happen, far enough not to get in your way.
There was a brief silence. While he made sure to plug in the coordinates this time.
"Ohhh, I get it now…" Hela said suddenly, her expression shifting as if she'd just cracked a cosmic riddle.
"You want to be the Queen."
"You're clever for a mortal. Very well—terms accepted."
"WHAT?!"
Dante had just finished calibrating the gate when Hela dropped that bombshell.
Before he could so much as blink, Hela moved with godlike speed—and scooped him up.
Princess carry.
She princess carried him into the portal.
And she was seven feet tall, mind you.
Despite the thirty-centimeter height difference, Dante instinctively wrapped his arms around her neck.
Because of course he did.
Oh god.
...
This time, Dante's return coordinates were set to his own room.
He cracked the door open and scanned the area—no one home.
Ada and Harley were still at HQ for combat training, that much he knew.
But what about Loki and the twins?
Gone too?
Did Loki take Magneto's kids out on a field trip?
Actually, with Loki's brains and Dante's "patient and fatherly" guidance, it wasn't likely they'd go cause chaos.
Maybe just some light credit card fraud.
Still, just in case, Dante opened his personal terminal and pinged Ingrid.
"Hey, dear Ingrid, good morning."
"…Captain, you do realize it's a holiday, right? Waking up a lady on her day off should result in you getting your head slammed in a door."
Dante flinched. He didn't even bother admiring the very flattering summer PJs she was wearing in the video call.
He just ended it.
Instantly.
There are entities more terrifying than ghosts in this world.
They're called Morning Grumps™.
Next attempt.
"Hello, Director Fury. Loki probably took Wanda and Pietro out sightseeing. Can you keep an eye on them? Just make sure they don't accidentally nuke a city block."
"Wasn't that your job?"
"True. But I want a break today. And you're old, you don't sleep much, and you don't exactly have a thriving nightlife. So do a little more work."
"You—where are you going, then?"
"Me? I'm going on a date. With a Big Sis."
Unlike his reaction to Ingrid's wrath, Dante was perfectly calm and smug with Fury.
Just before ending the call, he casually tilted the camera to show Hela standing behind him.
And then cut the connection before Fury could even form a comeback.
Click. Terminal off.
Done.
With that handled, Dante turned around.
Hela looked at him with a devil-may-care smile—her natural elegance laced with a faint edge of danger.
"So… you're dating me now, mortal?"
(To be continued.)
Special thanks to takeo_vi for sponsoring this extra chapter 🎉🎉
Chapter 33: Family Reunion
Question: If you bring home an older woman who's thirty centimeters taller than you, and she says she wants you to be her Queen, what should you do?
Some people might rush forward and blurt out something dumb like:
"Do you want to eat first, shower first, or… eat me first?"
But Dante has always been a man of discipline. A husband of class.
He chose to let her shower first.
She'd been sealed away for over a thousand years!
Even if she somehow still looked squeaky clean, her hair was a bit of a mess.
Looked like some kind of edgy, smoky-eyed, non-mainstream cosplay wig.
Maybe because she trusted the person who yanked her out of a sealed dimension, Hela quietly accepted the towel Dante offered and walked into the bathroom.
The time she spent showering felt like a whole century to Dante.
Not because he was trying to peek.
He wasn't!
He was just… mentally preparing for the chaos when his other two roommates came home.
One Demon King-type older woman, one Psychopath-type older woman… and now a real, honest-to-Odin Asgardian goddess in the house.
This wasn't a casual situation.
Oh right—Loki.
How the hell was he supposed to explain this?
"Hey, this is your big sister. You're not blood-related, but yeah, she's totally your big sister."
Also, Loki looked Asgardian, but he was technically a Frost Giant from Jotunheim.
Hela probably slaughtered a metric ton of Frost Giants back in the day.
Let's just hope she didn't go full murder-mode the second they made eye contact.
As Dante spiraled deeper into worst-case scenarios, time flew by.
And Hela finally emerged from the bathroom.
Her long hair had returned to its full Asgardian glory under the healing power of conditioner and steam.
And her clothes—crafted with Asgardian tech—had automatically refreshed and transformed into a new outfit.
"So, Hela," Dante said, eyes flicking over her restored armor, "has your power started coming back?"
"Roughly… about one-fifth of my peak. If I can return to Asgard, I'll recover completely. But if I stay here on Midgard, I'll top out at half power. And even that'll take time."
He was a bit surprised.
So when she first crawled out of the seal in the movie and went 1v2 against her two little brothers—crushing Mjolnir in the process—she was only using one-fifth of her power?
Then her full-strength form must've been a peak-level Heavenly Father—basically Odin-tier.
Her only limiter was being on Asgardian soil.
But even off-world, half-power still made her a walking apocalypse.
Thanos, before he loaded up his jewelry box, was only sub-Heavenly Father-level.
Even the current rookie version of Thor was still nowhere close.
Hela sat down beside Dante.
It had to be said—she was the kind of regal older woman whose mere presence turned Dante's basic faux-leather IKEA couch into a throne.
"Now that I'm free, my perception has sharpened. Odin's getting old. His power's weakening, and so the seal he left behind has degraded. That might be how you were able to brute-force your way in with teleportation magic."
"Odin's getting old?"
"Mm. If I had to guess, he's got less than a thousand years left. He's not far from death."
Dante had just begun to process Odin is getting old, and then "less than a thousand years" casually dropped.
Only gods could make a statement like 'he's dying soon... in about a millennium.'
There was no way a human brain could emotionally relate.
"Forget that old man," Hela waved it off. "What I'm more curious about is this: Here on Midgard, a place where most people are basically insects, how are you walking around with a divine-tier physique… and living in such a cramped shack?"
"…Shack?"
Dante gave a weak smile.
Compared to Asgard, sure, this 400-square-meter apartment was probably a broom closet.
But c'mon. On Midgard? This was premium real estate.
He raised a hand and gestured around the room.
"First of all, this is already a luxury flat that most Midgardians could never afford."
"Second, yeah, I have a body comparable to your average Asgardian, but that doesn't mean I'm top dog. Midgard's got some pretty scary folks too. Especially that one."
"That one?" Hela tilted her head. "Who?"
"Technically an alien, like you. But he's often called the 'God of Humanity.'"
"God of Humanity?" Hela's interest was piqued. "What kind of god is that?"
"To be clear, he's not actually a god. Just an alien who crash-landed here. But... let me put it this way," Dante said, leaning back, "If your dad—at his peak—got into a fight with this guy? Best case, he'd crawl out bruised and begging for a truce."
This wasn't just bravado.
Dante had done his homework.
That Big Guy had soloed an entire Chitauri invasion and then closed the wormhole on his way out.
No way that was a rookie Superman still learning how to fly.
He'd asked Tony Stark. Lois Lane in this world was already 31.
So the Big Guy had to be around that age—meaning a fully matured, sun-charged Superman.
And against that version?
Even a peak Heavenly Father-level being might not win.
Of course, Dante was only talking raw combat power.
Asgard still had Queen Frigga, one of the most powerful witches in the Nine Realms.
If they pulled off a magical sneak attack, they might have a shot.
It was well-known: the Big Guy had zero resistance to magic.
"Does Midgard really have such a powerful being?" Hela asked.
"Yep. But all he wants is world peace, a warm home, and family life with his wife and kid. As long as you don't commit crimes in Metropolis or accidentally throw a car onto his farm, he's more docile than your neighbor's cat."
"Incredible… If I had that power, I'd spread Asgard's glory across the universe."
Dante wiped a bead of cold sweat off his forehead.
Yup. That's Odin's daughter, alright.
War maniac. Through and through.
Just as Hela was deep in thought, probably planning a conquest of the known cosmos.
The front door beeped.
Fingerprint unlock.
Loki strolled in, wearing a dark green suit that practically screamed "I am the moment," followed by Wanda and Pietro, both looking dazzled.
"Yo, Dante! Took the kids out for a walk—wait... Who are you?!"
Loki was mid-grin when his eyes locked on Hela sitting beside Dante.
His God of Mischief instincts screamed: RUN.
In a flash, he summoned his twin daggers and aimed them right at her.
He looked confident.
But his feet were already channeling a teleport spell.
This wasn't HYDRA's dampened cage. Magic worked just fine here.
"Oh? Odin's bloodline... No, wait. Frost Giant bloodline?" Hela's eyes locked onto him. "Fascinating. A Frost Giant whose outer form was permanently rewritten by Odin's primal magic. But you… you do resemble Odin in his youth."
Dante stepped in quickly and gently pushed Loki's dagger-hand down.
"Okay, everyone, chill."
"Loki, meet Hela."
"This is your father's adopted son. Call him Younger Brother."
"And this—" he pointed to Hela, "is your father's eldest daughter. Call her Elder Sister."
(To be continued.)
Special thanks to takeo_vi for sponsoring this extra chapter 🎉🎉
Chapter 34: Household
After everything that had gone down recently, Dante finally decided it was time to take Loki and Hela to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Because being an undocumented god in a modern developed country?
Total nightmare.
Fortunately, the FBI's "legit fake ID" program had been running like a well-oiled machine for years.
Just ask the X-Men. They were practically regulars.
So Dante flew the Quinjet to FBI Headquarters in Washington, D.C.
And along the way, he got a deeper understanding of Asgard—far beyond the tip-of-the-iceberg stuff he'd seen in comics and movies.
Hela didn't give the Quinjet even a passing glance. A machine that represented the pinnacle of Earth's current tech was, to her, no more interesting than a lawnmower.
But Dante noticed something else:
She was glued to his phone.
It had to be said—the Asgardian tech tree was extremely lopsided.
They had the Bifrost, which was basically a god-tier transdimensional railgun mixed with a wormhole cannon, and it even had automatic biometric identification.
But when it came to combat?
Swords and magic.
Straight-up mythological vibes.
They'd conquered the Nine Realms, seen tech on the level of the Celestials, and probably got bored of it all.
Instead, it was Earth's dumb little entertainment gadgets that fascinated them.
So now, as the Goddess of Death walked through the front doors of the Federal Bureau of Investigation—radiating untouchable divine beauty—she was also casually scrolling through Dante's phone.
In just a short span, she'd already mastered various social media platforms.
Of course, she was still logged into Dante's account.
And Loki?
He was surprisingly okay with suddenly having an older sister.
Actually, he was thrilled.
Why?
Because thanks to Dante's helpful commentary, Loki now knew this new big sister was the original founder of Asgardian rebellion culture.
Compared to her, all his own past schemes were basically kindergarten finger painting.
If following her meant giving Odin and Thor aneurysms?
Then Loki Odinson was all in. A loyal lackey for life.
"Big Sister, what's next? Should we just storm Asgard now?"
"Obviously not. First we consolidate power here on Midgard. Then we raise a grand army and then we take the fight to Asgard," Hela said—eyes never leaving the screen.
"Why not just go now? You'd get your full power back on Asgard, right?"
"First off, we can't return just yet," Hela said casually. "Second, even if I could go back and get all my power back, Father is still alive. We're both peak Heavenly Father-level. Even if he's on the decline, it won't be a quick battle. During that time… can you handle the wrath of the entire Asgardian realm by yourself?"
"…Right. Good point, Big Sister."
Loki nodded with the wide-eyed loyalty of a teenage fanboy in the presence of their punk-rock idol.
The vibe between them?
Somewhere between "queen and court mage" and "evil team-up that's going to set the universe on fire."
---
After reviewing your reports... so basically, you got that green power of yours from that green light during our battle with Wesker?"
"Yep."
"You also learned teleportation magic."
"Yep."
"Then used it to break into a sealed dimension."
"Correct."
"And you brought back a thousand-year-old Asgardian goddess."
"As you can see."
"…What kind of expression am I supposed to make at this point?"
Nick Fury sat behind his desk, looking at Dante's annoyingly smug face. His mouth twitched like he was fighting off a stroke.
"So you believe me?" Dante asked.
"I believe you because this—" Fury gestured at everything, "is exactly what we signed up for."
Fury rubbed his temples, exasperated.
"But the worst part? The second you walked into HQ, our energy detection systems lit up like a damn firework show. Sensors nearly exploded. The readings were brighter than a searchlight in a blackout."
Dante turned to Loki with a grin. "See? Your sister walks in and instantly registers as a top-tier threat on government scanners. Why can't you make an entrance like that?"
Loki rolled his eyes. At this point, he didn't even want to argue.
Sure, he was the God of Mischief. But compared to a peak-tier death goddess?
He was just a parlor magician with delusions of grandeur.
Still… if he ever actually used the magic he had instead of goofing off with those twin daggers, he'd be a force to reckon with.
Dante leaned in, cheerful as ever. "So, as the hosts of Earth, shouldn't we do our part to help these two visiting alien gods settle in?"
"…Are you trying to squeeze funding out of me again?"
"I mean, that would be nice, but I'm really here to get household registrations for our Goddess of Death and our God of Mischief."
"Listen to yourself. You want to get household registrations for gods."
Fury glanced cautiously at Hela, who was still lost in TikTok or whatever demon app she'd found.
Only when he confirmed she wasn't listening did he exhale.
He really didn't want Dante's loose-cannon mouth to trigger this grandmother of all disasters. If she went nuclear, not even Wakanda's vault could save the Bureau.
"What? Are you discriminating against aliens now? Or gods?" Dante slammed the desk. "Answer me straight. You gonna register them or not? This isn't even that hard for you guys."
"The problem isn't the damn registration process!"
Fury was now dangerously close to needing blood pressure meds.
Now he was kind of regretting recruiting Dante.
Save Harley Quinn? Good job.
Recruit the X-Men? Excellent.
Lead them against HYDRA? MVP.
But this brand of shameless chaos?
He wanted to shoot the guy in the face and give him a medal.
"…Fine. I'm not arguing with you. I'll have Internal Affairs handle it. Names?"
"Hela Odinsdottir. Loki Odinson."
Dante shrugged.
They were their real Asgardian names.
Straightforward stuff—daughter and son of Odin.
Fury sighed. "There. Your wish is granted. Now, don't you owe me a tiny favor in return?"
"No."
"…I've given you way too much freedom."
"Don't be like that! Don't get all sensitive. You tell me the job, I'll do it if I can. If I can't, I'll still try. Sound fair?"
Fury waved him off and passed a folder across the desk.
Dante opened it.
The first page?
A photo.
Deep in the eternally frozen Arctic, a man slept—his features stoic, noble, and unmistakably righteous, even in slumber.
"That's Captain America, right? I've heard all the gossip, but tell me straight—did he and Director Peggy Carter ever, you know…?"
Cough cough "You know?" Fury blinked. "What's 'you know'?"
Dante gave him a flat stare. "Obviously, I mean—did they ever go stargazing?"
"Ohhh. Stargazing. Got it."
"What did you think I meant?"
"I thought… I thought they went driving together."
"…Pfft."
After a while, Dante finally dropped the teasing and got back on task.
"So this photo—you want me to go bring him back, right?"
"Exactly. Since you already know about Steve Rogers, you understand he's a Super Soldier. With the serum in his system, he didn't die from the cold. He's in a suspended state—hibernation, basically. And even though his aging was already slowed, freezing nearly stopped it entirely."
"Right, but as far as I know, the Super Soldier Serum just makes him stronger than a peak human, yeah? And with the FBI now rocking both the X-Men and Star Team, is bringing him back really that urgent?"
"I get what you're saying…" Fury nodded, his single eye briefly softening with something like nostalgia. "But Steve Rogers isn't just muscle. He's a symbol—a moral compass. The spiritual totem of the Bureau. He reminds us that even when we're walking along the abyss, we can still move toward the light. That's why we need him."
Dante nodded. No arguments there.
Captain America was all about moral fiber and old-school values.
If you were picking a Superhero to be your friend and didn't have any weird edge-case requirements, Cap or Superman were the safest bets in the multiverse.
Superman was a god with both power and restraint.
Cap didn't have god-tier strength, but he was the kind of guy who would jump on a grenade for you without hesitation.
Especially when it came to leadership… Cap had something even the Kansas Boy Scout didn't.
And besides all that, Fury had another motive.
The FBI had been taken over lately by mutants and gods—literal gods.
And as the agency that once prided itself on being the first line of defense for ordinary people, they were starting to feel… outnumbered.
Bringing back Cap was a symbolic way to tip the scale a little.
"To that end, I've decided to assign one more agent to accompany you on this mission," Fury added.
"Oh?" Dante perked up. "A beautiful older sister? Please tell me it's Commander Hill. Or Mockingbird. I'm easy."
"You're easy? That's great."
Fury's expression suddenly lit up with evil glee.
Dante squinted. He saw it—the twinkle of pure schadenfreude in Fury's eye.
Fury pressed the comm button.
"Alright. Come up."
One minute later, the door to the Star Team office opened.
Dante turned expectantly.
Hill? Mockingbird? Even Quake would've worked!
But instead, in walked…
A slightly balding man with a warm smile and the aura of a tax accountant.
"Hello, Agent Dante. I'm a Level Seven Agent. Name's Phil Coulson."
"Ah… Hello."
Dante deflated like a tire, slumping onto the couch and leaning weakly against Hela—who was still scrolling through his phone.
Hela didn't mind. She casually put one arm around his waist.
"Hey," Dante muttered, "you're getting really good at this."
"In the Asgardian army, many offered themselves to me," Hela said with a straight face. "Although for some reason, they were always fearless warrior women… who eventually became my personal guard."
Dante rolled his eyes.
Oh, great. She's a lady-magnet too.
But unlike how he treated Fury, Dante knew he should probably show Coulson some basic respect.
So he stood up and extended a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Agent Coulson. I heard you used to serve under Fury back in the day. That must've been… rough."
"Director Fury was one of the most exceptional agents in the Bureau," Coulson said with a smile.
"I still am!" Fury cut in, immediately offended.
"The current standout agent would be Dante," Coulson said kindly."
The man's warm, almost dad-like aura somehow made his receding hairline feel distinguished.
Dante was momentarily stunned.
How could a middle-aged man be a little handsome without being greasy at all?
Aura. It's a real thing.
"Alright, enough mutual flattery," Fury snapped.
---
As expected, once Dante was done dunking on Fury, the System couldn't resist joining in.
[Ding: Mission 'The Perfect Frozen Man' has been issued]
[Mission Brief: Dear Star Team Captain, under Director Fury's orders, travel to the polar glaciers and rescue Captain America. Warning: the North Pole has more than just permafrost… strange things are buried in the ice.]
Dante stared blankly at the mission prompt.
He knew it.
There was always a twist.
But what the hell could possibly be hiding in the North Pole?
Cthulhu?
Wouldn't be that weird, actually. Both Marvel and DC have dipped into Lovecraft stuff before.
But if it really was some ancient tentacle god, then the divine Big Sis sitting next to him could probably flick it into another dimension.
So… manageable threat level.
Still, this mission didn't seem like it was gonna bring out too many new characters.
Maybe if he brought Hela along, the plot might… evolve?
While pondering this, Dante boarded the Airbus with Agent Coulson.
Waiting inside were Ada and Harley, freshly returned from combat training.
The second Hela stepped onto the craft?
Both Ada and Harley locked eyes on her.
A demon queen and a chaos clown, both staring daggers.
Every once in a while, they would glance at Dante like they were mentally measuring his coffin size.
Dante sat bolt upright, eyes fixed straight ahead.
He didn't know how dangerous the North Pole would be.
But he did know.
Nothing out there was more dangerous than being trapped in the same metal tube with two jealous women.
(To be continued.)
Special thanks to takeo_vi for sponsoring this extra chapter 🎉🎉
Chapter 36: Team Coulson
The Star Team's Airbus tore through the stratosphere, flying at full throttle toward the icy reaches of the Arctic glaciers.
But Dante's head wasn't on the mission at all.
Because the current situation was way too hostile for him.
Three women. Three separate sofas.
Hela was unbothered, still casually flipping through Dante's phone like she owned it. Thanks to the Airbus's onboard Wi-Fi, she didn't even have to worry about losing signal.
But Ada and Harley? They shared a glance, then simultaneously locked their eyes on Hela.
The vibe was... antagonistic cooperation? That weird paradox where two apex predators pretend to play nice while sharpening knives behind their backs.
At first, Coulson had been coldly enjoying the free drama from the sidelines.
But Loki, sharp as ever, sensed the air thickening with estrogenic murder intent and physically dragged Coulson out of the lounge.
Dante, watching them make their tactical retreat, felt strangely emotional.
Honestly, if the Battle of New York had happened in this universe, there's no way he'd be seeing something this ridiculous: the killer and the victim walking arm-in-arm like brunch buddies.
But he didn't have the mental bandwidth to roast Loki and Coulson internally right now.
Because Harley Quinn had just straddled him on the couch, full face-to-face, full contact, zero warning.
"My Pudding~ I didn't know you were such a heartbreaker," Harley said, her eyes dancing with mischief and menace. "You made me wanna put a bullet in Mister J's head... Shouldn't I return the favor? You seduced me first…"
"Cough, cough—Harley, come on now! What do you mean seduced? That was professional-grade psychological breakdown therapy!"
Dante tried to clarify, but Harley lunged forward and bit down on his neck—hard.
Didn't hurt, thanks to his current enhanced durability. More like a weird ticklish tingle. If anything, it felt... vaguely suggestive?
"Still denying it! You scumbag! You don't say no, you don't commit, you don't take responsibility!"
Dante's protest felt weak even to himself. Because, yeah... in hindsight... he had been kinda Aquaman-ing his way through things lately.
Ada snorted coldly from the other sofa, her femme fatale aura practically turning the cabin's air into smoke.
Dante turned to her instinctively and sighed.
Since they were headed for the North Pole, he had to be fully suited up. Which meant Ada's usual show-stopping cheongsams, leather pants, short skirts, and signature black-and-white stockings were all sadly benched in the wardrobe.
A crime against visual culture, honestly.
But Ada Wong wasn't just anyone.
She could see straight through Dante's thoughts—and this Aquaman-tier rookie wasn't hard to read.
"A few days ago, I bought a pair of patent leather boots," she said casually.
Then she grabbed Harley, pulled her off, and yanked Dante up by the arm.
"If you like them, I can wear them for you when we get back. But for now? Go find Coulson and Loki. Men's tea party."
With that, Ada and Harley tag-teamed Dante out of the lounge.
If Dante really wanted to resist, the two of them couldn't have made him budge an inch.
But—
Why would he?!
Escaping was an absolute godsend.
"Oh, how impressive—you actually made it out alive," Loki deadpanned, smirking at Dante's half-dead expression.
But Dante was long past being phased by that level of snark. He flipped Loki as a greeting and dropped down onto the seat next to Coulson, immediately getting to the real talk.
"Director Fury sending you on this dig mission with me wasn't just a random decision, was it?"
Dante poured out three glasses of the bright green carbonated drink Harley had dubbed "Fel Energy."
Even if he was a mess in other areas, Dante stuck to the "no alcohol during missions" rule like a professional.
"Let me guess—Level Seven Agent, definitely not here to earn brownie points. You're not looking to join Star Team either." Dante clinked glasses with Coulson. "So it must be this: Director Fury wants you to build another special team. Handle the low-priority supernatural cases. Team core's gotta be Captain America, right? Fury's golden boy?"
"Your strategic sense is sharper than his. You're the best candidate for the next Director." Coulson said with a smile.
"Cough, cough, cough—ease up, man! Say stuff like that, and I might actually get shy."
"Fine, no more praise. Straight to the point, then. A few years back, I died. Heart stopped for over a minute. Got saved by the doctors over at the Federal Bureau." Coulson's smile lingered, but his hand subconsciously drifted to his chest.
He didn't say much more.
But Dante could feel it.
That trauma—the moment your heart stops and your soul hovers over the line between life and death—it never really leaves.
"I wasn't originally supposed to do this. But your Star Team? You're all turning into mini-gods. Can't use a cannon to swat a fly forever. So we set up a special emergency team. Low-spec Star Team, basically."
Coulson wasn't holding anything back. Total transparency. The polar opposite of Fury's default paranoid silence.
From him, Dante got the full download:
After Fury handed Coulson the authority to build his own team, he'd already finalized most of it.
Unlike Star Team, which was primarily a combat unit, this Special Emergency Team was full-spectrum—combat, science, tech, infiltration, contingency planning. Everything.
Dante had originally assumed it'd just be the cast of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. again. But Coulson's version?
Was on another level—multiverse-style.
Let's start with the familiar:
Grant Ward. Level Six Agent. Combat stats just shy of Natasha Romanoff. Secretly HYDRA. Infiltrated Coulson's team to uncover how Coulson resurrected from the dead. Reporting to John Garrett, who's already on death's door.
Skye. Provisional Agent. Hacking genius. Can fry hundreds of millions in FBI tech with a laptop that looks like it came out of a pawn shop. Real name: Daisy Johnson. Unawakened Quake.
Of course, Coulson only knew the first half of their bios.
Then you had Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons—the Science Babies. Still intact. Still brilliant.
But then came the kicker.
The one that made Dante's long-dormant egg twitch with anxiety.
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Level Two Agent. Forensics expert.
Barry Allen.
Pfft!
That spit-take nearly made Coulson drop the folder he was handing over.
"Dante, what's wrong? Are you alright?"
"Shouldn't you be asking me if I'm okay?" Loki said flatly, drenched in carbonated soda. After a long, silent pause, he finally forced a smile and waved a hand—magic instantly cleaning him head to toe.
Dante turned his full attention back to the personnel files Coulson had given him.
He needed to double-check that he wasn't hallucinating.
But no—there it was again, crystal clear.
Born in Central City. Father imprisoned for murdering his mother. Grew up trying to prove his father's innocence. Joined Central City Police as a forensic tech. Later discovered and recruited by the FBI.
All signs pointed to the same guy.
Barry Allen.
The Barry Allen. From the CW show. Confirmed.
Except… this version didn't have his powers yet. No lightning bolt, no Speed Force, no scarlet suit. Just a regular 22-year-old crime scene nerd with solid credentials and tragic backstory.
Which only made Dante stare even harder at Coulson.
Was this guy's luck stat maxed out at birth?
And the Federal Bureau of Investigation… Maybe it really was what S.H.I.E.L.D. was always pretending to be in the comics. With all these deep-shelved future supers and villains hiding in plain sight—who knew how many were still tucked away?
Dante flipped to the next file.
The first thing that jumped out was the smug, playboy face of a man who looked like he walked out of a cologne commercial.
Oliver Queen.
Goddamn.
Star City's billionaire heir. Went sailing with his dad and his girlfriend's sister, crashed on a mysterious island called "Purgatory" in the southern seas, trained like hell, survived nonstop trauma and evil schemes, then returned five years later as a hooded vigilante known as Green Arrow.
He'd already joined the Bureau as a Level 4 Agent, under the condition that the Queen Group became an official partner and agents were assigned to protect his mother and sister.
All Dante could say was—
"Holy sh*t."
Barry was one thing. Speed Force hadn't happened yet, so he was still basically a quirky lab guy with great hair.
But Green Arrow? That dude was ready. Already trained, already operating.
And on paper? Green Arrow's physical abilities weren't far off from Batman's. In a lot of ways, he was Batman Lite—but with better aim and worse PR.
Key differences: less billionaire armor, more emotional baggage. Way too many entanglements. But that also made him feel… more human than Batman.
"Where the hell did you find all these legendary pulls? Why have I never heard about them? Is Fury just hoarding superheroes like Pokémon cards?"
"Actually," Coulson said, finally looking a little smug, "they were all part of my original Star Team screening list. But Director Fury rejected them all. Once I got clearance to build my own unit? I picked them back up with a smile."
Dante stared at him.
"Agent Coulson, I'm dead serious—you should be Director. Just your talent for pulling elite cards already makes you better than Fury. I mean, what can his one eye even see?"
"But I was discovered and promoted by Director Fury."
Coulson smiled, shaking his head and changing the subject by gesturing at the next file.
Dante didn't push the point. He opened the final folder.
Wade Wilson?
Wait, isn't that Ryan Reynolds in the photo?
What's next—Doctor Strange?
But no, seriously. Ryan Reynolds aside, this file was wild.
Wade Wilson. Only eighteen years old. Graduated early from the old FBI Academy with top marks. Before dropping out of Midtown High, he'd been besties with Peter Parker.
When the Academy was infiltrated by HYDRA, Wade went deep undercover, took out multiple HYDRA leaders, and personally returned with a truckload of intel.
As a result? He got a direct promotion to Level 4. Codename: Deadpool.
He didn't have his signature healing factor yet, but all his other combat skills were sharper and more refined than comic/movie Deadpool. And his brain?
Yup. Completely unhinged.
Certified chaos gremlin.
According to the file, he never took any of the FBI's internal assessments seriously. Deliberately flunked the written stuff. Otherwise, someone like Grant Ward wouldn't even be close to his level—let alone ranked above him, behind only Black Widow.
Oh, and one last detail: Wade volunteered to join Coulson's team.
After closing the file on Wade "Deadpool" Wilson, Dante finally had a full picture of what Coulson had built.
Grant Ward.
"Green Arrow" Oliver Queen.
"Deadpool" Wade Wilson.
And soon—Steve Rogers, the OG super soldier, frozen in a block of patriotic ice.
That squad was stacked. Not Avengers-tier, maybe, but damn close. Unless they were fighting Thor or Hela directly, they could definitely handle Loki with some smart gear and decent coordination.
But with that roster…
Grant Ward—aka that undercover HYDRA snake—what was he still doing on this team?
Even if he wasn't going to blow anything up yet, he was still a ticking time bomb.
"Are these all the members?" Dante asked, setting the files down.
"That's right. Once Captain Steve Rogers is defrosted and operational, my team's complete."
"Need some advice?"
"Always."
"You've got too many volatile types. You need someone with authority and experience to anchor them," Dante said, pointing at the files for Skye, Oliver, and Wade. "You're good, but you're too soft-spoken. Not exactly a fearsome legend."
He paused.
"Oh, right—I saw in one of the older files that there's a senior Agent in Internal Affairs. Retired from field duty."
"You mean…"
"Yup. Melinda May. AKA 'The Cavalry.'"
Dante recommended the final piece of the puzzle.
"I saw in the logs that she used to be your partner. With that connection, you can definitely convince her to un-retire."
The real reason? Besides the fact that Coulson's team really needed a stabilizing force…
Dante also needed someone to fill Grant Ward's vacancy.
That's right—he was already planning to arrange a "graceful exit" for Ward after this mission.