Marvel's FBI?

Bonus for 200 PS, next bonus at 400 and 3 more at 500 PS.

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"Help?" Doom turned back, genuinely confused. "Didn't you already clean out this entire HYDRA facility? And I've already agreed to give you all my intel on them."

"No, no, no, I'm not talking about HYDRA."

Dante waved his hand dismissively, signaling that this was something else entirely.

Then he pointed across the room—right at Loki.

Loki, who'd been pretending to be invisible this whole time, immediately shrank further into the corner of the cage like a quail.

The guy had been suspiciously quiet ever since Doom arrived. Not a single snarky line, no smug smiles, just full-on silence.

Because Loki had been personally and thoroughly wrecked by Doctor Doom.

Brutally.

As one of the Nine Realms' top-tier magic users, Loki still ended up black and blue. He tried the usual tricks—fake weakness, surprise dagger stab, snarky one-liner—and got a second beatdown for his troubles.

If he wasn't Asgardian, with all the genetic perks that came with it, he would've been flattened into magical mulch.

And now? He knew—Thor couldn't beat Doom. Not even close.

And that "Kansas Big Guy" who swatted him across ten kilometers with one punch?

Yeah, definitely not.

Midgard was no longer the primitive playground Asgard once conquered.

At this rate, even if Odin himself walked through that door, Loki wouldn't bet on him either.

Midgard was terrifying.

He missed his mom. He missed his dad. He even missed his dumb, hammer-wielding brother.

Because sometimes the best way to fix a problem child... is to break their entire worldview with a cosmic belt.

But just when he thought he'd successfully faded into the background, Dante turned to him.

"Wait, what are you doing?! Didn't I already agree to a 200-year employment contract?!"

"Oh, don't worry," Dante said cheerfully. "I just don't trust you to follow Earth laws or morals. So, I'm preparing a few... 'practical safeguards.'"

The smile on Dante's face was warm. Neighborly.

To Loki, it looked like Satan's customer service rep had come to collect.

Worse than Thor. At least Thor had some weird sibling affection. This one was weaponizing paperwork.

"Two hundred years? Asgardian? Employment contract?"

Doom's genius-level brain immediately connected the dots.

With a flick of his hand, a scroll of parchment materialized in the air. It radiated menace.

"I've placed a demonic contract seal on this. It's blank—for now. Once the terms are written and signed, any breach of contract will result in the violator's soul becoming the property of Mephisto."

Loki visibly turned green.

He knew Mephisto. Everyone in the magic scene knew Mephisto. That demonic slimeball was infamous across dimensions.

If this contract went bad, even Odin would need a cosmic-level bribe to get Loki out.

And Doom? That guy fought Mephisto in Hell once a year just to rescue his mom's soul.

Every time, Mephisto made it harder. Every time, Doom still went.

This contract?

Yeah, it was legit.

Loki just stared as Doom handed the scroll to Dante, who now looked like he'd just closed a record-breaking real estate deal.

This was officially not worth the paycheck.

But fine.

Two hundred years.

For an Asgardian, that was basically a medium-term internship.

He'd just ride it out.

Meanwhile, Dante was glowing with joy. Doom had just handed him a tool most warlocks would kill their own teacher to get.

This was Mephisto's personal flavor of soul-binding magic.

You didn't out-deal Mephisto—you just tried to survive him. And Doom?

Doom had fought this guy so many times, he practically majored in demonic counter-law.

He needed power like the Emotional Spectrum to keep leveling the field.

So he studied. Mastered. Crafted tools like this scroll.

"This one's yours now."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

Dante held out his hand again—this time, genuinely smiling.

Doom hesitated for a beat, then returned the handshake.

How long had it been since someone treated him like an equal?

He didn't say it, but in that moment, he actually respected this smug little agent.

And as Doom's back vanished through the portal—

[Ding! Mission "Raid Latveria" completed.]

[Mission-related characters: Wolverine, White Queen, Mystique, Doctor Doom, Loki.

Obtained Ability: Wolverine's Perception

Obtained Ability: Diamond Form (White Queen)

Obtained Ability: Slowed Aging (Mystique)

Obtained Ability: Teleportation Magic (Doctor Doom)

Obtained Ability: Physical Constitution (Loki)]

---

Dante heard the system voice echo in his mind and had to bite down on his own cheek to keep from grinning.

He had to think about the most depressing crap he could imagine—three different childhood traumas and the tax code—just to stop himself from giggling in front of everyone.

His last mission? Total chaos. He barely salvaged a win by snagging the Ancestral Lantern with Batman's unbreakable willpower.

But this one?

Gold mine.

Wolverine's Perception was basically mutant-level spider-sense. Instinctual, raw, accurate. Fast enough to predict even Quicksilver's movements.

White Queen's Diamond Form? Virtually indestructible. Not brittle like actual diamonds. Withstands both superheat and arctic-level cold.

Mystique's Slowed Aging? Eternal youth. Longer peak condition. No downside.

Doom's Teleportation Magic? Eat your heart out, Blink. Doom's version could cross planets—and dimensions.

And Loki's Physical Constitution? Don't laugh. The guy was technically a Frost Giant. His official Marvel power scale put him at Strength Level 5—meaning he could lift 75 tons.

This was exactly what Dante needed.

He'd hit the ceiling of peak human. Time to upgrade.

After soaking in the rewards, he turned to Ada Wong and nodded.

"Open the door."

With a soft hum, the cell door unlocked.

Loki didn't run. Mostly because he knew it wouldn't help.

Dante stepped inside.

"Loki Odinson, God of Mischief, welcome to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Please sign here—and from now on, we're coworkers who share a pair of pants."

"I don't want to share pants with you! Doesn't your FBI even issue uniforms?!"

"It's a metaphor, you uncultured mythological mooch!"

Loki glanced at the glowing green ring on Dante's hand.

Then at the superpowered weirdo squad assembled behind him.

He sighed as he signed the contract—now upgraded to a 250-year employment term.

You damned profiteer!! Why did the price go up again?!

(To be continued.)

***

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