Marvel's FBI?

"Is the North Pole your property?"

"Uh, no, but—"

"No? Then what's the problem with us launching drones in unclaimed territory for reconnaissance?"

"...Guess there isn't one."

"Then shouldn't you apologize? And pay for the drones?"

"Do I look like an idiot?"

"You look like Clark Kent, hometown Kansas."

Dante wasn't actually intimidated when he finally showed up.

His Federal Bureau of Investigation Star Team operated by the book, so it wasn't like the guy could just rough them up.

At most, there was a minor quake near his house, followed by a few drones buzzing around. Clark was just here to ask some questions.

After Dante dropped his real name, he only blinked—no dramatic reaction, nothing over-the-top.

Honestly, it looked like he'd expected it.

"You're not surprised?"

"Bruce Wayne talks about you often, Agent Dante."

Clark set the crumpled drone pieces aside and casually sat down on the couch like he lived there.

Everyone except Dante and Harley looked like they were bracing for impact.

Dante glanced at Harley in mild disbelief.

He was chill because he'd already connected the dots on Clark, but… when did Harley get this level of chill?

Then Harley moved.

She walked straight up to Clark—

And tugged on the little curl of hair falling over his forehead.

"Clark? Clark Kent? Since when do you go around wearing spandex?"

"Harleen Quinzel. Long time no see."

"Long time your ass. When I was locked up in Arkham Asylum, didn't you and Bruce Wayne come visit me? Tsk tsk tsk—seriously thought I wouldn't recognize you just 'cause of some glasses?"

"Ahem—well, maintaining a secret identity is necessary for us."

Dante watched Harley banter with Clark and suddenly got a headache.

Jesus. Harley Quinn's contacts in this world were terrifying.

The DC Universe's golden boy and its grumpy sugar daddy were both her old pals?

Where's the justice in that?

"Agent Dante, I'm guessing you're not fully up to speed on our connection." Clark nodded at Dante, totally ignoring Harley now rummaging around for scissors. "Louise, Harleen, and I went to the same university. I was a freshman; Louise and Harleen were already juniors when I got there."

So Harley met Superman and his future wife in college. Graduated and linked up with Batman. And now she's here, draining me dry.

Wait—is she the main character!?

Also... if Louise Lane is 31, and Clark's two years younger, that puts him at around 28 or 29.

A Superman under 30 already nearing peak power?

Feels like someone's running cheat codes.

"So... you and Louise Lane are still in an older woman–younger man relationship?"

"Uh, how should I put it… I don't like reducing our connection to something about age. That just feels reductive—"

"Don't listen to his crap." Harley, still scissor-less, flopped back down next to Dante with a huff. When she heard Clark's vague rambling, she rolled her eyes. "Clark Kent turns into a babbling idiot the second you mention Louise Lane. Anyone who doesn't know better would think they've been married for years. But reality check: he's never even confessed. Not once. Since college."

Clark Kent, under 30, savior of humanity, literally blushed like a kid caught lying to his mom.

Dante, on the other hand, was no longer calm.

"WHAT?! You're not even together yet!?"

"Are you close with Louise Lane, Agent Dante? Why do you ask?"

"Ahem, I mean—of course I've heard of the world-famous reporter Louise Lane. But I bring it up because I think you two are perfect together." Dante leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing state secrets. "If you're crushing on Louise, then you must know Tony Stark, right?"

Clark was stunned. He hadn't expected an FBI agent to suddenly turn into a dating consultant.

As a reporter at The Daily Planet, he'd interacted with public agencies a lot. Most of them held reporters at arm's length—if not outright hostility.

But the FBI guys he'd met had all been friendly and chill.

Was the entire FBI like this?

Then Dante said Tony Stark, and Clark's entire vibe shifted.

No killing intent, but the guy was definitely not happy.

"Yeah. I know him. Louise and I did an exclusive interview with him once. After that, Tony Stark started showing up constantly. Even invested in The Daily Planet just to get closer to her."

"See? If you don't man up and confess, you're just gonna get more guys sniffing around. Louise is a catch. Tony Stark's not the first—and definitely not the last."

"Then… what do I do?"

"See Harley? See that Asian big sister next to her? See the one glaring at you like she's ready to dismember someone? I'm sitting here completely at ease with them. So trust me—I'll coach you through this. Just chill."

Loki watched Dante confidently pat Clark's shoulder and sighed.

These two were the definition of "one dares to teach, one dares to learn."

...

While Dante was whispering strategic romance advice to Superman, the Asgardians and Agents finally relaxed a little.

This man named Clark Kent really didn't seem hostile at all.

"Big Sister, is this man… Clark Kent… really that strong?"

Loki leaned in and asked Hela in a quiet voice.

He'd already been punched halfway across the sky by the guy with the "S" on his chest, but curiosity was a persistent thing.

"Very strong."

Hela frowned, keeping her answer short.

But after a beat, she added:

"If he goes all out… right now, I wouldn't stand a chance."

Loki's breath hitched.

No chance?

Even if Father came to Midgard, Big Sister probably wouldn't say she had no chance, right?

"What about on Asgardian soil?"

"If I stood on Asgard, awakened the army of the dead with the Eternal Flame, and wielded both Mjolnir and Gungnir… I might be able to hold him off for a while. But the ending's already written."

Asgardians have one thing going for them.

They might be stubborn—

But they never bluff.

(To be continued.)

***

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