Marvel's FBI?

What happened next was very simple.

Dante deactivated the Will Green Light barrier, then shot Mike Peterson in the neck.

Right in the jugular.

The injection took immediate effect—Mike stiffened, then collapsed.

Correspondingly, the destructive, highly unstable orange-red energy coursing through his veins slowly receded, replaced by the purplish-blue hue brought on by the injection.

Dante casually holstered his gun, then strolled out of the aerial command center with Tony.

All that remained was to neutralize the Centipede compound and dismantle it completely.

Fitz and Jemma immediately got to work on that.

Skye trailed after them, clearly buttering them up.

"Dante, you actually pulled it off."

"Of course I did… but is now really the time for flattery?"

"You must be Skye, right? The hacker who sent the data back," Tony Stark nodded at her. "Heard your skills are top-tier. Managed to throw the entire FBI Communications Division into a tailspin. Stark Industries could use someone like you… ever think about joining?"

Before Skye could reply, a voice immediately shut Stark down.

"Tony, do you mind not poaching people in front of me? Skye's got some baggage, sure, but so do at least a fifth of the agents in the FBI. After clearing up the minor issues, she's still a probationary agent on our team."

Coulson stepped out, holding Mike Peterson's son by the hand, catching Stark red-handed in the act.

Then he hopped into a flashy vintage red Chevrolet.

Oh yeah, and he'd named it Laura.

"Skye, let's drop Mr. Peterson's son off at his aunt's place," Coulson said as he started the engine. "I can tell you more about Dante on the way."

"Okay!"

Skye climbed in without hesitation.

Watching Laura vanish around a bend, Tony Stark draped an arm around Dante's shoulder.

"Drink?"

Originally, Dante was thinking some dive bar downtown.

Stark instead dragged him straight back to Stark Tower in New York.

Transport? A Quinjet—which Stark had access to thanks to hacking Jarvis and snagging the activation codes.

"Believe me, Fury is going to call and absolutely lose it on you in a minute."

Dante stretched out on the spacious leather couch. The top-floor office of Stark Tower was absurdly oversized, like everything else in Tony Stark's life.

The Quinjet was shamelessly parked on the giant terrace like a party bus on a rooftop helipad.

"Hey, Fury's fault. I offered double the market price for a Quinjet and he still wouldn't sell me one! So I just borrowed it. What, that not allowed?"

"Lately, Fury's been tighter with money than Bruce Wayne's press secretary. Every time I ask him for R&D funds, he just ghosts me and gives me chump change. Tightwad."

"Then come work for me," Stark said. "Head of Security for Stark Industries. Ten mil salary, plus two percent equity."

Just like that, his poaching target switched from Skye to Dante.

Dante couldn't be bothered.

Instead, he walked over to Pepper Potts—who was holding a bottle of red wine—bowed, extended a hand, and laid a flawless, gentlemanly kiss on her fingers.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Miss Potts." He straightened up and gave her a warm smile. "Tony's truly a difficult man to handle, isn't he?"

"You clever men are all fickle creatures," Pepper said, smirking.

"Ahahaha, you flatter me—I'm embarrassed."

"Who's flattering you?!" Stark barked, visibly uncomfortable at the sight of Dante kissing her hand. "You just met her—don't act like you two go way back!"

"Don't put it all on me," Dante countered. "Haven't you been holed up in Metropolis lately? I heard you even bought a stake in The Daily Planet just to chase after that big-time reporter Lois Lane?"

"Don't remind me. I've given up on Lois Lane," Stark sighed, the sparkle in his eyes dimming. "Twelve invites in a row—every one rejected. Guess the dazzling Tony Stark doesn't do it for her."

"Tch. Can you be more narcissistic?"

Dante side-eyed him. At least the man had some self-awareness.

If he'd kept chasing her after that, he might've caught an Iron Fist from the Kansas Big Guy himself.

"Still, it wasn't a total loss. My investment in The Daily Planet went up ten percent in just a few weeks. That's over fifty million in profit! In the information age, media's a gold mine."

…

After they'd chatted and had a few drinks, things finally circled back to the real topic.

"Dante, when I got Coulson's call, I rushed over not just because of our friendship—but because he mentioned this incident involved Extremis."

"Oh? You interested in that stuff?"

"Not exactly me—more like the FBI. A while back when I was in Metropolis, this senior FBI agent kept visiting, trying to cozy up to me. Wanted a project collab with Stark Industries. Even offered to buy a chunk of the company outright."

Dante frowned.

Something wasn't adding up.

Given Stark's connection to Fury and Coulson, if the FBI really wanted to pursue this kind of cooperation, Fury would've handled it himself—or at least sent Coulson.

Tony Stark wasn't just some tech bro—he was the tech bro.

"In our meetings, the guy kept trying to probe for info about Extremis. Offered to share top-secret FBI data, even unreleased tech—just to help improve the side effects of Extremis."

As Tony spoke, a face flashed through Dante's mind.

Someone obsessed with body-enhancing tech…

Could it really be him?

"Tony, let me ask you something."

"Shoot."

"This senior FBI agent… his name wouldn't happen to be John Garrett, would it?"

"Yes, yes, yes! That's the name!" Tony slapped the table, fired up. "Guy was clearly hiding something. Super cagey. Never talked straight business."

"So I strung him along. Said I don't handle operations personally, and that I had to run things by the board. But… jokes on him. I don't even have a board. Pepper runs everything now! Haha!"

"You sound way too proud of being a hands-off boss."

Pepper shot him a look like she was five seconds away from delivering him a punch.

Dante tuned out their bickering.

His mind was elsewhere.

John Garrett. Level 8 FBI Agent.

Also a top HYDRA leader. Old-school double agent.

To the world, he was "The Clairvoyant."

His power? Level 8 FBI clearance—and HYDRA's intelligence network.

Every time Dante thought about that, he wanted to laugh.

Garrett had played both sides, brokered intelligence like a Wall Street commodity, and built a cult of believers who thought he was omniscient.

Unfortunately for him, the so-called "Clairvoyant" was on borrowed time.

A few months, maybe a year left at most—before he kicked the bucket from complete organ failure.

He'd been one of the first test subjects in the Death Soldier program decades ago.

Half his organs had already been replaced with mechanical ones.

Now, he was just using Extremis to hold death at bay.

And yes, he was the mastermind behind the Centipede Project.

His goal? Enhance the human body. Extend life.

The result? A ticking time bomb. The Centipede formula was wildly unstable.

So Garrett tried to erase all evidence—via explosion.

But he didn't count on Dante and Coulson's team rescuing the final Centipede subject.

And with his clearance, Garrett likely already pieced everything together.

Now? He'd be after the secret that resurrected Coulson.

Too bad for him—Grant Ward, Garrett's original plant on the team, had already been "converted" by Dante.

Now Ward was their internal HYDRA-sniffing bloodhound.

And the mystery of Coulson's resurrection?

Even with Level 8 clearance, Garrett couldn't crack it.

So now he was out of options.

A dead end.

"Nice work, Tony… Here's the play: keep stringing him along. Use any excuse—just make sure you act interested in cooperation."

"He pissed you off or something?"

"He's the one behind the Centipede Project."

Tony's expression shifted.

So the traitor was internal.

He wanted to roast Dante and the FBI for sloppy security—but then he remembered Obadiah.

"…Sigh. Same struggle, different agencies."

Tony clapped Dante on the shoulder like they were long-suffering war buddies.

Dante immediately swatted him off.

"Don't drunk-cry on me. Go find Pepper. I'm heading back to HQ."

Better to brief Fury about Garrett first.

(To be continued.)