FBI: Chapter 42/43

Chapter 42: The Big Guy from Kansas Finally Shows Up!

"Is it completely dead?"

Dante stared at the mangled remains of Starro—now still and not even twitching—then turned to Hela.

"He's absolutely dead. As the Goddess of Death, I can guarantee I even sliced his twisted soul into pieces."

Hela dropped from the sky, casually running both hands through her hair. The ice dust clinging to her from the battle evaporated instantly.

The fight hadn't been particularly intense for her, but she still looked pleased.

This so-called Starro had given her a long-lost sense of exhilaration.

After a thousand years, she finally felt that rush of battle again.

"Completely dead?"

Dante scratched his head, frowning.

That… shouldn't be it, right?

If Starro was really dead, the mission should've triggered as completed.

And he'd already dug up Captain America.

This "other thing" was now space sushi courtesy of Hela.

So why hadn't the system responded?

Wait—could it be he still needed to melt Captain America ?

Dante frowned deeper and tapped his communicator again.

"Dante! You alive?! What the hell was that giant starfish?! Can we eat it?!"

Harley Quinn's excited voice blasted through the comm.

Dante's eye twitched. Harley could be reliable… for maybe two minutes.

"Harley, calm down. It was just a Universe-class beast."

"Huh? Universe beast? I thought it was some weird hentai monster! Boring. Anyway, didn't you have something to tell me?"

"…What even goes on in your brain—never mind. Did you run the vitals check on Captain America?"

No point trying to follow Harley's ping-pong logic, so Dante got to the point.

"We already did that when you told us to roll out. His metabolism is barely running, but he's definitely alive."

"Then start thawing him out."

"Eh? Ada and Cole already cleared all the ice off the old popsicle."

Harley's answer made Dante freeze.

Captain America—rescued.

Starro—dead beyond all levels of dead.

Yet the mission still hadn't triggered as complete.

Which meant only one thing...

Starro wasn't the "other thing."

Now what?

Where the hell was he supposed to find this so-called "other thing"?

Standing around wasn't helping, so Dante opened a portal and returned to the Airbus with the Asgardian siblings—Hela and Loki—in tow.

And the moment he stepped into the Airbus.

He was greeted by one of the dumbest scenes he'd seen this week.

Coulson, the middle-aged S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, was taking selfies with the half-thawed Captain America lying in the medical bay.

He'd even pulled out his precious, laminated Captain America trading card to get a matching photo.

Dante turned to Harley, who was calmly making coffee in the lab, and asked with a helpless smile:

"How long has he been like this?"

"Huh? Lemme think… Since that big starfish showed up. He was so hyped, he didn't even notice it."

Goddamn.

Turns out, idol worship is a universal disease—age and gender irrelevant.

Even someone as serious as Coulson couldn't resist.

"Coulson! Stop being insane!"

Dante couldn't take it anymore. He stormed over and gave Coulson a gentle but direct slap of reality to the face.

"Dante? Did you just slap me?"

"No one slapped you. Are you so starstruck you're hallucinating now? This is not how a professional agent behaves!"

"I—I'm sorry… I just got too excited."

Coulson looked embarrassed, rubbing his cheek while muttering, "Since we've rescued Captain America, let's head back now."

Head back?

Head back my ass!

Yeah, you got to meet your childhood hero, but my mission is still active!

Dante was just scrambling to come up with an excuse to stay longer in the North Pole when Ada Wong's voice suddenly echoed through the internal comm system.

"Everyone, report to the operations room," she said. Her voice carried a strange note of disbelief.

Everyone immediately made their way to the ops room.

Ada skipped the small talk and opened the electronic projection.

"This popped up when the Airbus reached this altitude."

On the screen, a pyramid-shaped structure made entirely of what looked like crystalline ice shimmered into view.

Dante frowned. Something about that structure felt... familiar.

"We didn't spot this thing when we arrived. It only becomes visible from this specific altitude. From any other height, it's just endless snow and ice."

"And radar from any major country never picked up this structure."

"My guess—it's some kind of alien ruin. Probably shielded by high-level tech. Maybe this angle is the only blind spot."

As Ada analyzed, the moment she said "alien ruin," Dante visibly jolted.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

North Pole.

Crystal pyramid.

That was the Fortress of Solitude, wasn't it!?

The Kansas Big Guy's personal mancave!

Dante resisted the urge to slap himself in the face—twice.

Of all the things to forget…

He forgot the North Pole was basically Superman's backyard.

Wait.

Didn't the Fortress have an auto-defense system?

If someone so much as sneezed near the thing, it would ping him.

Even if Hela's Starro beatdown didn't look like much, that starfish's awakening had shaken the ice shelf like an earthquake.

That alone might've triggered the Fortress's sensors.

Which meant…

No surprise…

The Big Guy probably already got the alert.

Two unknown entities with extreme power levels had just thrown down on his front porch.

And even worse.

Today was a holiday.

He was probably home.

He could arrive any second now.

And his top speed? Faster-than-light.

Sure, he wouldn't break the speed limit inside the atmosphere, but he'd still get here faster than a Mach 10 jet.

Luckily, no real damage had been done to the Fortress, or Dante might be prepping a eulogy for himself right now.

"I'm still a kid," Dante muttered to himself.

I can't deal with him right now!

"Oh, and I already sent three drones to photograph and scan that structure," Ada added.

"…WHAT?! THREE DRONES?!"

Dante's voice shot up to a pitch that startled Ada into blinking.

"Uh… are three not enough?" she asked, confused.

Dante gave a tight, bitter smile and didn't answer.

"…Actually, three is too few," he muttered.

He pulled up the live feed from the drones—just in time to watch them nearing the Fortress of Solitude.

Suddenly, a blur passed over all three screens at the exact same moment—and then the signal cut.

Dante slapped his forehead.

It's over.

The others were still puzzling over the signal loss when Hela suddenly looked toward the hatch.

WHAM—HISSS—

The airlock opened—not by system override, but by pure physical force.

And in walked the Kansas Big Guy himself.

Blue suit. Red cape. Jawline that could cut steel.

In one hand: the three downed drones.

He politely shut the hatch behind him.

It was the perfect combination of overwhelming force and Midwestern manners.

"Hi, folks. These little toys buzzing around my house—belong to you?"

(To be continued.)

Chapter 43: Love Consultation in the North Pole

"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—Kryptonian ancestry, 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.)