The First Kryptonian in Marvel

Kara (POV)

The Next Morning

I was holding a coffee mug, about to leave the kitchen, when I bumped into Sarah coming in. She looked ready for trouble, wearing her now-signature red hoodie dress and knee-high black boots. No mistaking it—she was gearing up for a mission.

I gave her a quick once-over. "Found Bruce, sis?"

She nodded, reaching for a piece of toast on the counter. "Yeah. I remembered something—just a fragment—about a Mr. Blue. He's connected to a New York university and is a molecular biologist. That was enough for Navi to start cross-referencing." She smirked, tapping her temple. "Once Navi tracked him down as Samuel Sterns, I had her hack his computer. Found what we needed—Bruce's last known location in Brazil."

"Impressive," I said, leaning against the doorway. "But still, be careful. Even with Shaw's absorption ability, the Hulk's dangerous."

Sarah grinned as she brushed crumbs off her fingers. "Not suicidal, sis. You know me."

"Yeah, I know you. Like a couple of days ago when you didn't mess with the Zero Point Device because you had this great idea—what was it again? Oh, right! You wanted to play with Zero Point Energy to power weapons that can manipulate time and space, like Kurumi's Flintlock and Musket. You're lucky you didn't die and only ended up in a parallel reality."

"I said I'm sorry! See? I made it back alive and stronger," Sarah said, faking remorse. It was obvious, and I noticed as she continued, "I'll be careful, I promise."

I didn't buy it. My skeptical look must've said as much because she added, "Relax. I'm not engaging him. I'll send in nanites to collect some blood. Hopefully, I can diffuse the situation before he Hulks out and destroys the slums. Too many innocents live there to risk collateral damage." She waved her toast for emphasis. "But yeah, I'm heading out right after breakfast."

Her eyes flicked over my outfit. "And you? What's with the trench coat drama?"

I smirked faintly, catching my reflection in the kitchen window. Pale features, sharp and angular, framed by dark hair. The black combat suit and trench coat weren't doing anything to tone down the Selene-from-Underworld vibe.

"Wakanda," I said, folding my arms. "I don't know the exact location yet, but I'm infiltrating a mercenary group hired by Klaue."

Sarah tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. "Sounds like fun."

I shook my head with a small smile. "Anyway, keep me updated on your situation," I said, stepping out.

"Good luck!" she called after me.

...

When I got to the rendezvous point, I made sure to make an impression—black trench coat, sleek combat suit, leaning fully into the "dangerous mercenary" vibe. If nothing else, it sent a clear message: I wasn't here to chat.

Wakanda was a mystery and a miracle rolled into one—a nation that was both invisible and untouchable. Their rise to global prominence wasn't just a metaphor. Ages ago, a vibranium meteorite had slammed into their land, changing their destiny forever. While other nations stumbled through the Industrial Revolution, Wakanda was centuries ahead, wielding energy weapons like toys while the rest of the world marveled over steam engines.

Their secrecy was their shield. To outsiders, they appeared to be a struggling agrarian society—dirt roads, old tools, nothing worth a second glance. But behind that carefully crafted façade was an empire of unimaginable sophistication. Few outsiders ever grasped the depth of the deception, and even fewer lived to tell the tale.

The capital was straight out of a sci-fi dream—a city where tradition and cutting-edge technology intertwined. Towering buildings rose in elegant curves, etched with ancestral carvings while housing tech that could outshine Stark Industries on its best day. Above it all, an invisible energy shield protected the city, doubling as both a physical defense and a cloaking device. It was so precise it mimicked the surrounding landscape, making Wakanda nearly impossible to detect, even with advanced satellites.

As I stood there, I couldn't help comparing Wakanda's dependence on vibranium to Tony Stark's theoretical new element reactor. Vibranium was incredibly versatile—it absorbed kinetic energy, powered their technology, and formed the backbone of their weapons. But it was also finite. A cosmic accident had given them their supply, and once it ran out, that would be the end of it. No more miracle metal. Then what?

Tony's reactor, though? That was a different story. It was renewable, practical, and built for the long haul. Stark's designs could power the future. Vibranium, for all its wonders, seemed to keep Wakanda tethered to the past—a glorious past, sure, but still a limitation.

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became: Wakanda's future was on shaky ground. They were balancing unmatched power against the reality of dwindling resources. One misstep could send everything tumbling into chaos.

"Killmonger's rebellion?" I muttered under my breath. "Not if I can help it." A Wakanda at peace, with Shuri's genius leading the way? They could weather anything.

Then again, they probably already working on a solution to their future problems. Wakanda wasn't just advanced—they were always thinking ahead.

"Well," I said, shrugging to myself, "let's help Wakanda secure a future."

...

General (POV)

"Alright!" said a burly guy shrouded in casual clothes and a mask. His imposing frame hinted at body armor concealed beneath. "Anyone for the show, check in with your number!"

Liam, they called him. Out here, on the outskirts of Wakanda's hidden city, a desolate patch of land served as the unlikely staging ground for a ragtag crew of twenty-eight mercenaries. A menacing black transport helicopter hovered nearby, its rotors whipping up dust devils like an overzealous leaf blower on steroids.

One by one, voices echoed out, each mercenary confirming their presence with a code. Kara finally chimed in. "Number 69."

A guttural chuckle rumbled from a hulking guy beside the presumed leader, Ulysses Klaue. "A chick? You new? Boss actually letting women join the crew?"

Klaue grunted in response, his expression somewhere between confusion and mild constipation. He hadn't personally vetted this newcomer, but with a team this big, the occasional unfamiliar face wasn't a surprise. As long as they passed the initial screening, he didn't care. Liam could sort the wheat from the chaff—or whatever mercenaries were before they hit the grinder.

Liam clicked his tongue in disapproval, his eyes scanning a list on his tablet before barking out an order. "Alright, you lot! Let's move! Boarding starts now!"

The mercenaries shuffled into a line, their chatter a mix of forced camaraderie and reluctant grunts. Kara took the last spot, her mind already calculating the odds of success—or survival.

Then, like a chaotic wind smelling faintly of chimichangas, a figure detached himself from the shadows and strolled into view: Deadpool.

"Hey, Liam," Deadpool greeted, his voice the audio equivalent of a smirk. "What's the vibe? We killing anything, or is this just an elaborate scavenger hunt for snacks?"

Liam didn't even flinch. "Wade. Not now."

"Oh, come on!" Deadpool clutched his chest in mock betrayal. "I can be serious. Look." He straightened his posture, giving a thumbs-up. "See? All business. No jokes. No quips. Just your friendly, neighborhood—"

"Not Spider-Man," Liam growled, cutting him off.

"Right, not Spider-Man. Trademark infringement and all. Good catch." Deadpool winked, then turned to the mercenaries, surveying them like he was judging a cosplay contest. "Alright, roll call. Who's here to make bad decisions professionally?"

"Fuck me," Kara thought, rubbing her temples. "Of all the people to run into..."

Deadpool's gaze landed on her, and his eyes lit up like a kid spotting free candy. "Oh ho! Number 69, huh? You've got style. And by style, I mean a filthy sense of humor. I respect that."

Kara gave him a look so flat it could have doubled as an ironing board.

Unfazed, Deadpool slid into the seat next to her as the helicopter's engines roared to life. "Sooooo," he started, nudging her with his elbow. "Got a name to go with that fun little number, or are we going full mystery here? Wait, don't tell me—you're one of those strong, silent types. I love those. Really adds to the sexual tension."

Kara's deadpan reply was a masterpiece of restraint. "Keep talking, Wade."

"I knew you'd warm up to me!" Deadpool grinned, clearly convinced that sarcasm was a gateway drug to friendship. "Don't worry, though. I'll play nice—for now. But just know, you can't resist this charm forever."

Kara internally groaned. "Yeah, this mission's officially a dumpster fire."

The flight was a nightmare with Deadpool sitting next to Kara, his constant chatter a buzzsaw grinding against her patience. Outside, the fading light painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, the sun's retreat casting dramatic shadows across the landscape like a pretentious art student's final project.

"Look at that," Deadpool mused, peering out the side of the helicopter. "A postcard from hell. Wish you were here! Oh, wait." He dug into a pocket and pulled out a pen, miming writing on the air. "Dear Satan, the weather's lovely, the company's grumpy, and I still haven't figured out what the beep we're actually doing. Love, Wade."

Kara didn't so much as glance his way. She was too busy mentally trying to find a solution to her new problem, Deadpool. She didn't want to kill the guy, she couldn't, but what to do with him?

Liam's voice cut through the noise. "Everyone stay alert. We've got a job to do."

Deadpool, predictably, was not alert. Or focused. Or doing anything remotely useful. He had pulled out a comic book—about himself, naturally—and was flipping through it with the intensity of a scholar studying ancient texts.

"Mission. Got it," Deadpool said without looking up. "Kill the bad guys, take the loot, avoid an awkward HR meeting afterward. Oh, wait—is there an HR in mercenary work? You know, someone to file complaints like, 'So-and-so stole my kills,' or '69 won't talk to me because she's madly in love but too shy to say it?' Hypothetical example, obviously."

Kara's jaw tightened. She didn't dignify him with a response.

Deadpool sighed dramatically, tossing the comic aside with the flair of a man convinced the universe was his audience. "Fine, fine. I'll just entertain myself. No need to beg me to shut up, 69. Your silence speaks volumes. Mostly volumes of rejection, but hey, I'm into it."

Kara didn't even roll her eyes, she just ignored the merc. But Deadpool's side glances were like an itch that wouldn't quit. She could feel him looking, thinking, scheming.

He finally cracked. "Your name is Selene, isn't it?" he blurted, like he'd just discovered a great cosmic truth. Kara froze, one eyebrow twitching.

Deadpool leaned in, eyes narrowing conspiratorially. "Come on, it has to be. Can you show me your teeth? Are you a vampire? You look like one. A hot chick like you? Total undead vibes."

Kara snapped her head toward him, her gaze flat and unimpressed. Internally, her thoughts spun: What the actual fuck is wrong with this guy? He can't possibly know a movie character that doesn't even exist in this universe.

Deadpool gasped, clutching his chest like he'd just been staked. "I knew it! You're Selene!"

"Oh, shut up, Wade," Kara finally muttered, her tone carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid insults. She paused, then added with a venomous smirk, "Or should I contact the Kingpin? Pretty sure there's a nice fat number hanging above your head for robbing him. I'm not afraid of collecting."

Deadpool froze, his mask somehow managing to convey a mix of horror and mock admiration. "Wow, cold. You really are undead. Here I thought you were just broody and hot, but nope—ice queen vibes, confirmed. Fine, fine, I'll shut up. For now."

"How the fuck did Sarah deal with this guy?" Kara thought internally shaking her head. But behind her, Deadpool was already back at it, muttering to himself. "Selene, though. Great name. Totally fits. Maybe I'll get her an action figure. Or a stake-proof vest. Yeah, I'm thoughtful like that."

The tension among the mercenaries was noticeable as the helicopter neared the landing zone. They double-checked weapons and gear, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.

Kara shifted her focus entirely to her plans, tuning out Wade's relentless nonsense. 

The helicopter began its descent, the thumping of the rotors growing louder, rattling through the metal frame. Dust and grit swirled in the air as the craft drew closer to the ground.

Deadpool stood abruptly, throwing his arms wide. "It's landing time, baby!" he announced like a game show host unveiling a new car.

Kara spared him the faintest side-eye but otherwise kept her focus on the terrain outside.

"Okay, fine," Deadpool said, dramatically adjusting an imaginary bowtie. "No applause. I get it. You're all saving it for when I save your lives later. Totally cool."

The helicopter hit the ground with a jarring thud, a plume of dust engulfing the landing zone. The mercenaries disembarked immediately, weapons drawn and ready for action. Kara moved in sync with them, silently communicating with Navi. Her steps were nonetheless quick and deliberate.

Behind her, Deadpool hopped down, brushing invisible dirt from his suit and muttering to himself. "First class, my ass. I should've booked with Hydra Air. At least they serve peanuts."

"Alright, listen up!" Liam's voice echoed with authority, cutting through the chatter like a whip. "Swift and quiet. Grab a partner for backup, keep it low-key. Number 56, you're on point. Let's move!"

The ragtag crew shuffled off the helicopter, forming a loose circle around Liam like moths drawn to a flame. Dust still hung in the air from the chopper's landing, swirling in the dimming twilight. Kara, blending seamlessly into her disguise, quietly observed.

Liam wasted no time. "Simple enough," he said, pacing before the group. "Stick to your assignments. Number 69," his finger shot toward Kara, "you're with 20 and 51. Perimeter watch. Cover if needed."

A ripple of grumbles rose from the crowd. "What the hell, boss?" shouted a towering man with biceps that looked like they could crush steel. "Sticking a chick on watch? You serious?"

Deadpool, leaning casually against the helicopter, chimed in. "Oh, come on, Bigfoot. Let the chick have some fun. Who knows? Maybe she's secretly a vampire or something."

The towering mercenary turned, his face twisting in confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

Deadpool dramatically put a hand on his chest. "Who am I? Who am I? The audacity! I'm Deadpool—mercenary, snack enthusiast, occasional antihero, and the only one here with a sense of humor. You're welcome."

Liam's glare cut through the brewing chaos, silencing both the towering man and Deadpool. "Enough. That's why I assigned two others to the perimeter. Number 20," he barked at a bald mercenary with a gleaming head, "you know the drill. If things go south, perimeter charges—start from the edges. Clear?"

Number 20 grunted in response, clearly unhappy.

As Liam turned to lead the rest of the team, Deadpool sidled up next to Kara, giving her a theatrical once-over. "Don't worry, sidekick," he whispered loudly enough for several people to hear, "I'll keep the egghead from cracking under pressure."

Kara ignored him, her focus on Klaue who seemed to tinker with some kind of device. Number 20 rubbed his bald head, muttering curses under his breath. "Alright, bro," he started, his tone dripping with condescension as he reached out for a patronizing pat on Kara's shoulder.

With swift precision, Kara sidestepped the gesture, her movement fluid and graceful.

"Arrogant little bitch," he grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Deadpool, ever the entertainer, clapped his hands together. "Oh-ho! Did you see that? Reflexes like a cat! Or maybe a raccoon. Either way, I'm impressed. You should come to work for me."

Number 20 scowled. "Shut it, clown."

Deadpool, undeterred, leaned close to Kara, stage-whispering, "Don't mind him. He's just jealous he can't pull off the whole aloof assassin vibe. Seriously though, where's your backstory? Tragic origin? Secret vendetta? We're all dying to know."

Number 20 finally broke away, muttering something about checking the perimeter. Deadpool stayed behind, leaning casually against a rock, pulling out a notepad. "Alright, kid, while Egghead does his thing, let's brainstorm some cool catchphrases for you. How about, 'The Quiet Storm'? No? Too dramatic? What about 'Ice Princess'? Wait, no, Disney might sue."

Kara had enough. She turned to Wade and said in an icy tone, "Don't you need to follow them in?"

Deadpool sighed, pocketing his notepad. "Fine, I get it. Strong, silent type. Just don't expect me to save your butt when the bullets start flying." He stretched, cracking his neck, before he started walking toward the barrier. "I was just about to practice my stand-up routine. I even had a nice one lined up about vibranium. No? Your loss," he added, before he joined the rest.

Soon the shimmering blue of a cloaking door appeared ahead, its energy casting eerie ripples across the darkened landscape. Klaue and the bulk of the team stepped through followed by a leisurely walking Deadpool, vanishing into Wakanda's hidden world.

The portal's light faded, leaving Kara, and the other two mercenaries on the desolate outskirts. 

"Fuck me sideways, that guy is a real pain in the ass!"