[Location: The Triskelion, S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters]
In the dimly lit office of the Director, the surveillance footage from the Addison Hotel played on a continuous loop.
It paused at the critical moment: a flash of unnatural blue light swallowing the Joker, followed by the golden geometric web saving Tony Stark.
"Coulson. Analysis."
"It defies known physics, sir," Agent Phil Coulson replied, his receding hairline gleaming under the monitor's glow. He offered a slight, apologetic smile. "If I didn't know better... I'd say it was magic."
Nick Fury, sitting behind his desk, didn't smile. His single visible eye narrowed, fixated on the frozen frame of the blue flash.
S.H.I.E.L.D. dealt in the impossible. They knew the world wasn't just wires and microchips; it was mutants, aliens, and things that went bump in the night. But this... this was messy.
Originally, the Addison Hotel incident was a police matter. A terrorist attack. Tragic, but mundane.
But then the Joker vanished into thin air while surrounded by Delta Force.
Then Tony Stark—the son of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founder—was saved by a glowing mystic construct.
That made it Fury's problem.
Fury leaned back, his leather coat creaking. "Magic I can handle, Coulson. It's the blue light that bothers me."
"Sir?"
"It reminds me of something."
Fury didn't elaborate, but his mind raced to a secret sublevel of a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.
The Tesseract.
That damned blue cube. Howard Stark had fished it out of the Atlantic while looking for Captain America in 1945. It had been dormant for decades, but Fury knew what it was capable of. He had seen the files from Project Pegasus.
If the Joker had access to Tesseract-derived technology... this wasn't just a crime spree. It was an extinction-level event.
And speaking of the Captain... Fury's thought drifted to another secret facility. The ice had melted. The man in the stars and stripes, Steve Rogers, was alive. But that was a headache for another day.
"Coulson," Fury stood up, the decision made. "I want a full workup on this Joker. Find out where he sleeps, what he eats, and who gave him that tech. He is a Level 8 threat."
"Understood."
"And the magician who saved Stark?" Fury gestured to the screen. "You go meet him personally. Assess him. If he's an ally, we need him. If he's a threat... well, you know the protocol."
Coulson nodded, turning to leave. "I'll handle it, sir."
As the door clicked shut, Fury grabbed his coat. He needed to visit the secret base. He needed to see the Tesseract with his own eyes. Just to be sure.
[Location: A Diner in Queens]
A flashy Audi R8 screeched to a halt outside a greasy spoon diner.
"I said I could handle this myself, Happy!"
"Boss, you should say that to Pepper," Happy Hogan replied from the driver's seat, looking in the rearview mirror. "I value my job too much to disobey her orders. Besides... after last night, extra security isn't a suggestion."
Tony Stark sat in the passenger seat, his expression darkening behind his sunglasses.
The Joker.
The name tasted like bile. Tony was used to enemies he could outsmart or outgun. But the Joker had humiliated him. He had thrown Tony off a building and vanished without a trace.
Tony Stark, the smartest man on Earth, had been played like a fiddle.
It wasn't just his ego that was bruised—it was his sense of security. He had just started a real relationship with Pepper. Now, every shadow looked like a man in a purple suit.
Tony had already put a ten-million-dollar bounty on the clown's head. But money couldn't buy peace of mind. He needed answers. And the man sitting inside this diner might have them.
"Stay in the car, Happy."
"But Boss—"
"I said stay."
Tony slammed the door and adjusted his suit jacket, marching into the diner with his trademark swagger—though today, it felt a little forced.
He scanned the room. It was mostly empty, save for a man in a rumpled trench coat sitting in a booth by the window, nursing a cup of black coffee and a cigarette.
Tony walked straight over and slid into the booth opposite him, skipping the pleasantries.
"Who are you?" Tony demanded.
The man across from him didn't look up immediately. He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that drifted toward Tony's expensive suit. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
"You arrived quickly," the man rasped, his British accent thick and cynical. "You didn't disappoint me, Stark."
"You knew I would come."
"I counted on it."
Tony leaned back, crossing his arms. He studied the man.
"Tell me what your angle is. You save my life, you save my girlfriend, and then you vanish. My satellites can't find a record of you before yesterday. You're a ghost."
Tony's eyes narrowed behind his tinted lenses.
"Just like the Joker."
"Don't insult me," the man smirked, finally looking up. His eyes were tired, but sharp as broken glass. "I have better taste in suits."
"Then who are you?" Tony pressed. "And why can you do... whatever that was with the light?"
The man stubbed out his cigarette in a plastic ashtray. He extended a hand, his fingers stained with nicotine.
" The name's Constantine. John Constantine."
"And as for what I do? Let's just say I'm a consultant for the things that go bump in the night."
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