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.
(To be continued.)
***
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