[AUTHOR NOTE: A friend suggested that I ask readers for powerstones and reviews. It will help my fic reach more people. I know that readers are lazy. So I will give 3 extra chapters for 15 good reviews. 1 chapter for 5 review. And 1 extra chapter for 100 powerstone. I think this motivation is enough. Have a good day.]
"The Prime Universe," John began, blowing smoke at the ceiling fan. "Think of it as the root of the tree. It sits at a level above the Multiverse. All other realities branch off from it."
He shrugged. "At least, that's the theory. I haven't been there myself."
"However," John leaned forward, his eyes locking onto theirs. "The Multiverse... is very real."
After the morning they'd had, Coulson and Tony absorbed this information with surprising calm. Their psychological baseline had already been shattered; this was just sweeping up the pieces.
"So," Coulson asked, clicking his pen. "Who are the players? How many factions are we talking about?"
"How many stars are in the sky?" John countered. "No one knows the full count. But I can tell you about the heavy hitters I've heard whispers of."
John counted them off on his fingers, his voice taking on a reverent tone.
"Currently, the most powerful faction in my home reality is the Justice League."
"But out there in the deep drift? There's the Land of Light—a civilization of radiant giants who police the galaxy. There's Hades, the ruler of the Fifth Parallel, who is currently carving a warpath through neighboring dimensions."
John paused, a shadow crossing his face.
"And the strongest being I've ever heard of... is the Omni-King, Zeno. Legend says he created—and destroyed—entire clusters of universes on a whim."
Tony and Coulson sat in silence, feeling very small.
Giants. Gods of Death. Omni-Kings.
They wanted to know their place in the universe, and John had just told them they were ants living on an anthill next to a freeway.
"Wait," Tony frowned, his mind catching a logical inconsistency. "If these guys are literal gods... why are you here? Why is the Joker here? You two aren't cosmic conquerors. No offense."
"None taken," John smirked. "It's simple physics. The more powerful you are, the heavier you are. The universe resists you. Trying to shove a God of Destruction through a dimensional rift is like trying to push a whale through a keyhole."
John pointed at his temple.
"But ideology? Ideas have no mass. They travel light."
"We call it the 'Memetic Hazard.' Travelers like us rely on artifacts, magic, or faith. But the Joker... he is the spokesperson for Chaos."
John's expression turned grim.
"There is a saying where I come from: The Joker is immortal. You can kill the man, but you can't kill the joke. Anyone infected by his madness... eventually becomes him."
Silence.
Tony Stark froze. The blood drained from his face, leaving him ashen.
"Those influenced by him will eventually become him."
A horrifying image flashed in Tony's mind.
James Rhodes.
His best friend. The man who had stood between the Joker and Pepper. The man who had a blade shoved into his mouth while the Joker screamed about "putting a smile on that face."
An ominous, cold dread pooled in Tony's stomach.
"Happy!" Tony shouted, scrambling up from the booth. "Get the phone! Call the hospital! I need a status on Rhodes, now!"
Happy, startled by the panic in his boss's voice, fumbled with his tablet. "On it, Boss!"
A moment later, Happy hurried over, his face pale. "Boss... I couldn't get through to the nurses, but I pulled up the security feed from his room."
He handed the tablet to Tony.
On the grainy screen, Rhodes was lying in his hospital bed, layers of heavy gauze wrapped around his lower face.
He was thrashing in his sleep, sweat soaking the sheets. His brow was furrowed in agony, as if he were fighting a war inside a nightmare. He was muttering something, faster and faster.
Suddenly, Rhodes stopped moving. The resistance vanished from his face.
His eyes snapped open.
He sat up, stiff as a board. And then, he began to laugh.
It started as a wheeze, then grew into a cackle, rising in pitch until it distorted the audio on the tablet.
On screen, Rhodes reached up. He dug his fingers into the bandages covering his mouth.
Riiiiiip.
He tore the gauze away, revealing the fresh, jagged scars carving his cheeks into a permanent grin.
Rhodes looked directly into the security camera. He tilted his head, flashing a classic, blood-curdling smile.
Then, the feed cut to black.
Tony stared at the black screen, his hand shaking so violently the tablet clattered to the floor.
His legs gave out. He collapsed back onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands.
He had failed.
He hadn't just failed to protect Rhodes from the knife. He had failed to protect Rhodes' soul.
The laughter from the video seemed to echo in the diner.
"JOKER!!"
Tony roared, his voice cracking with raw, unfiltered hatred.
"I WILL KILL YOU!"
The killing intent radiating off Tony Stark was palpable. The billionaire playboy was gone. In his place was a man who wanted blood.
He whipped his head around, glaring at John.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"
It was an irrational outburst. Tony knew it. He was lashing out because he was hurting.
John didn't flinch. He just watched Tony calmly, taking a sip of his coffee. He knew grief when he saw it.
Tony took a shuddering breath, forcing the rage down into a cold, hard knot in his chest. He didn't apologize—Starks don't apologize—but he gave John a stiff nod. An acknowledgement.
John nodded back. Transaction complete.
"Right then," John stood up, tucking the checks into his inner pocket. "That concludes our business."
He looked between Coulson and Tony.
"Anything else? Or am I free to go introduce myself to New York's nightlife?"
Tony didn't answer. He signaled Happy. Without a word, the two of them walked out of the diner, the weight of the world resting on Tony's shoulders. He had a friend to hunt.
Coulson, however, remained seated.
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick document. He slid it across the table.
"Not just yet, Mr. Constantine."
"This is a registration agreement drafted by S.H.I.E.L.D. for individuals with... enhanced capabilities."
Coulson tapped the paper.
"It's a standard treaty. It ensures that civilians are protected and that powers aren't abused. Once you sign this, you're free to go."
John looked down at the document. He picked it up, flipping through the pages with the practiced eye of a man who had bartered his soul more times than he could count.
He chuckled darkly.
"A contract, eh?"
John pulled a pen from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers.
"You'll have to forgive my hesitation, mate. As an Exorcist, I read the fine print."
He looked at Coulson with a shark-like grin.
"If I'm not careful with where I put my signature... my creditors might crawl out of Hell to collect early."
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