The First Kryptonian in Marvel

Kara spread her senses, picking up two life forms moving farther and farther away. She straightened, her cloak billowing as though it had its own dramatic soundtrack, before shadow-teleporting to their location.

Reemerging, she caught a flicker of movement—a shadow darting between trees, too smooth for a terrified straggler. No, this one was deliberate. Precise. As if he'd memorized the "How to Evade a Cloaked Assassin" handbook.

"Cute," Kara muttered, quickening her pace. "Mutant or just cocky?"

The figure halted abruptly in a clearing, turning to face her. Moonlight spilled through the canopy, highlighting a man in a tactical suit, his stance loose but coiled like a spring on edge. A smirk tugged at his mouth, the kind of smirk that dared her to underestimate him.

"Ah, so it's you, 69. You really betrayed us," he said in a thick French accent, his tone dripping with faux charm.

Kara paused, her hood casting a shadow over her face. "Number 12, I presume."

The man chuckled, rolling his shoulders with insufferable ease. "Batroc," he corrected as if the name should mean something to her. "But clearly, mon cherie, you didn't know that. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come after me."

Kara tilted her head as if he'd just confessed to eating cereal with water. "Doesn't matter. The only thing I need to figure out is how many pieces I'll need to drag you back in."

Batroc's laugh was sharp and mocking, as though he'd just heard a bad joke and wanted her to know it. "Confidence, I like that. But I'm not the same as the others you've crushed tonight."

"Sure you're not," Kara deadpanned. Before she could elaborate on just how un-special he was, Batroc lunged.

He moved with annoying speed, his agility almost impressive. His foot sliced through the air in a high kick aimed at her head. Kara ducked, countering with a sharp jab to his ribs. He twisted mid-air, her strike grazing him as he flipped back and landed with the smugness of a cat.

"You're quick," he admitted, his tone bordering on playful. "Good. I like a challenge."

"Great. I enjoy ending challenges." Kara cracked her knuckles. "Let's make this fun. No powers. Just techniques. That way, when you lose, you'll really feel it."

Batroc grinned, either exhilarated or utterly unhinged. "Très bien, shadow girl. Let's dance."

The fight began, both combatants moving with calculated precision. Kara's strikes were lethal, every move aimed to disable, while Batroc's fluid, unpredictable style kept him alive—for now.

He swept at her legs; she leaped and twisted mid-air, delivering a spinning kick that forced him to retreat.

"Not bad," he taunted, breathing hard. "But skill alone won't catch me."

Kara didn't answer. Words were wasted on the soon-to-be unconscious. Her stance shifted, her strikes becoming sharper, more deliberate.

The rhythm shifted when Batroc overextended on a spinning kick. Kara seized the moment, gripping his ankle mid-strike. With a calculated twist, she sent him crashing to the ground.

Before he could recover, she pinned him, her knee pressing into his chest, her eyes glowing an unsettling blue just inches from his face.

"Not bad, but You're not fast enough," Kara said, echoing Batroc's earlier words, her voice dripping with icy disdain. "Ouch, though, that must've broken a couple of ribs. .

Batroc gasped for air, his smirk finally failing him as her fist descended. Darkness swallowed him before he could muster another quip.

Kara rose, dusting herself off with an air of practiced nonchalance. She spared the unconscious mercenary one glance before scooping up the stolen vibranium he'd clung to desperately.

"You didn't even make me break a sweat," she muttered, packing it away. "Now, this is mine."

With a wave of her hand, shadow tendrils coiled around the unconscious Batroc, dragging him into the shadow dimension with all the grace of the world's worst Uber. Kara smirked, her voice cutting into the void. "You ran away, huh, Deadpool? Just when I was starting to look forward to a fight!"

She paused, her senses prickling. His presence lingered nearby—annoyingly alive.

From a suspiciously bush-shaped pile of sticks, Deadpool's unmistakable voice piped up, muffled but chipper:

"Whoa there, vampiress ninja! I didn't run! I'm strategizing! It's like running away, but with pizzazz!"

Kara turned, arms crossed. "You're under kindling."

Deadpool poked his head out, holding what appeared to be a Wakandan vibranium spear. "It's called tactical wood camouflage, thank you very much. Respect the art."

"Wade," Kara said flatly, her glare unwavering. "You bailed on your squad."

"First of all, ouch. Secondly, let's not toss around the 'b-word' like we're besties. Thirdly—what about you, huh? Attacking your own squad members? Bit hypocritical, don't you think?" Deadpool popped up from his stick pile, brushing dirt off his suit with exaggerated flair. "I simply… relocated. Strategically. Like Klaue, but without all the screaming and shattered bones. Oh, and nice ninja act back there, Selina. Very Batman. Ten out of ten, no notes."

Kara pinched the bridge of her nose and turned to leave. "Since when do mercs have loyalty? Isn't it just to the highest bidder? You should know better. Remember that stunt with the Red Reaper and Kingpin?" She shook her head. "Didn't you double-cross him back then?"

As she began walking away, Deadpool twirled the spear like a baton, his voice chasing after her. "Wait, wait, wait! You're not going to fight me? Just letting me go?"

Kara shot him a flat glare over her shoulder. "Courtesy of Red Reaper. You owe her."

Deadpool puffed out his chest dramatically. "Red Reaper, my old frenemy! What a saint. I mean, unless this is a setup. Is it a setup?" He gasped. "You are the setup!"

Kara rolled her eyes, her tone dangerously low. "Leave before I'm forced to kill you. Twice."

Deadpool froze, one finger raised, then gave a quick thumbs-up. "Got it. Loud and clear. But can I keep the spear? Pretty please? It really ties my whole outfit together."

"Fine," Kara snapped, already done with the conversation.

"Sweet!" Deadpool saluted her with the spear. "Thanks, spooky! You're a peach. Let's do this again sometime—except, you know, without the broken ribs and the murdery vibes!"

And with that, he was gone—well, almost. From a distance, his voice echoed back, cheerful as ever:

"I'll name the spear Pointy McStabface! You'd love it!"

....

Kara retraced her steps, her pace deliberate as she honed in on the three signatures she'd sensed earlier. No need to rush—Wakandan hospitality wasn't going anywhere.

Soon enough, a figure emerged, and there was no mistaking the black vibranium suit etched with sleek lines. The man moved with the precision of a predator.

T'Challa.

Flanking him was a striking woman, her wild white hair catching the faint light as her glowing eyes radiated the energy of a brewing storm.

Ororo Munroe. Storm.

The third figure, however, was the one that drew Kara's sharpest attention. Nakia, armed with her twin rings, exuded energy both gracefully and lethally, her piercing gaze locked onto Kara as though she were already several moves ahead in an invisible chess match.

Kara stopped, cocking her head with a faint smirk. "Well, look at this. Royalty, weather, and strategy. All that's missing is the popcorn," she quipped, her voice dripping with amusement. None of them knew her, but Kara knew them. Different timelines, same unshakable resolve.

T'Challa's command was as swift as his movements: "Stop."

Kara, ever the picture of rebellion, planted her feet and crossed her arms, letting her grin widen. "Stopping," she echoed mockingly, "isn't really my thing."

T'Challa's sharp gaze scanned her from head to toe, his muscles coiled like a spring. Beside him, Storm's gaze burned with intensity, and Nakia's grip on her rings tightened. The vibe was less "friendly exchange" and more "ready to rumble."

"You're with the mercenaries," Storm said, her voice calm but razor-edged.

Kara shrugged with a touch of theatrical indifference. "Define 'with,'" she said, feigning deep thought. "No, wait—don't. I'm not here to play for their team, if that's what you're asking. They're messy."

Storm's eyebrow arched, unimpressed. T'Challa stepped forward, his voice dropping to an authoritative rumble. "Then explain yourself."

Kara tilted her head. "Or…?"

She didn't have to finish. The Black Panther struck like his namesake, a blur of black slicing through the night.

Kara didn't move—not to dodge, anyway. His fist hurtled toward her, only to halt in mid-air as she caught it effortlessly. Her hand closed around his with an audible snap of tension.

"Nice reflexes," Kara remarked, her tone maddeningly casual.

T'Challa's eyes flickered with surprise, but only briefly. He twisted sharply, freeing himself and spinning into another strike. Kara parried with a sweep of her arm, sending him hurtling backward into a tree.

The crackle of electricity tore through the air. Kara barely had time to glance up before a bolt of lightning shot toward her chest. Storm wasn't holding back.

The bolt struck, only to split into twin arcs that spiraled harmlessly around Kara like a light show at a very aggressive rave.

Kara raised an eyebrow. "Points for style," she said.

Nakia made her move, darting forward with the precision of a panther herself, her rings slashing through the air. Kara sidestepped the first strike, pivoting smoothly. With a subtle push motion, an invisible force shoved Nakia back just enough to make her stumble.

"Tenacity," Kara said, grinning. "I like that."

T'Challa was back on his feet, claws flashing as he lunged again. This time, Kara shifted faster than his eyes could follow. A burst of telekinetic energy sent him tumbling into the underbrush.

Above them, Storm unleashed her fury. Lightning lit the sky, and a howling gale tore through the forest. Kara's hair whipped around her face as she stepped forward, completely unbothered.

"Big storm energy," Kara muttered, almost approvingly.

With a gesture, she pulled water from the damp earth, the surge rising like a tidal wave. It crashed into Storm, forcing her back. Ororo staggered but recovered quickly, her expression sharpening with renewed resolve.

Kara smirked, lowering her hand as the tension thickened. "And here I was hoping we could skip the warm-up."

"Stand down," Nakia commanded, her voice slicing through the chaos. Her rings spun with a deliberate rhythm, her stance solid and unyielding. Calm, controlled, and absolutely done with Kara's nonsense.

Kara tilted her head, her smirk sharp. "No," she replied simply, as though the idea was beneath consideration.

T'Challa growled low in his throat and launched himself forward with lethal precision. His claws slashed through the air, but Kara didn't flinch. Faster and stronger, she intercepted him mid-strike with a pulse of energy. The force sent him crashing to the ground, but he rolled to his feet, his movements fluid despite the impact.

"This is not a fight you can win," he said, his voice steady and unyielding despite the obvious mismatch.

Kara raised an eyebrow, her smirk sharpening. "Cute," she said, a slight telekinetic push sent him tumbling back again. She didn't follow, her focus shifting as Nakia darted in, her twin rings cutting through the air with precision. Kara sidestepped smoothly, her movements almost lazy, her attention drifting back to Storm, who was gathering her strength.

Storm was back on her feet, hair whipping around her face as the storm around her built into a frenzy. Electricity crackled in her hands, but her expression wavered. The fight wasn't going as planned.

Kara noticed. Oh, she noticed. Her gaze shifted to T'Challa as he crouched low, his breath steady but strained, frustration simmering behind the sleek mask.

"Not used to being outmatched?" she thought, her amusement simmering. "This could actually get interesting."

The faint shimmer of energy across his suit caught her attention, the kinetic absorption radiating just under the surface. Kara's grin widened. "Fancy suit," she teased. "But let's not pretend it'll save you."

T'Challa didn't respond, but his body did. He moved with renewed speed, a blur of claws and determination slicing toward her midsection. Silent, precise, relentless. Apex predator energy.

Kara moved faster, stepping just out of reach as his claws grazed the air she'd occupied milliseconds before. With no time for him to adjust, she drove a pulse of telekinetic force into him, sending him tumbling into the dirt once more.

"Round two?" she asked, her tone mocking but tinged with approval.

"Enough!" Storm's voice rang out, commanding and edged with urgency. "We are not your enemies."

Kara didn't answer. Her gaze narrowed as she stepped forward, undeterred by the gale tearing through the air. The storm intensified, thunder rolling overhead as clouds twisted into an ominous vortex. Lightning arced jaggedly through the sky, the battlefield illuminated in sharp bursts.

"Dramatic," Kara said, her voice low and amused. "Really selling the goddess thing." She raised her hand, and the air rippled violently. The storm's fury crumpled inward, the winds dying in an instant as electricity fizzled out harmlessly.

Storm staggered back, her boots digging into the dirt as she fought to steady herself. T'Challa moved again, his claws cutting through the dissipating chaos with renewed determination. His strikes were sharper now, his approach more deliberate.

Kara noticed that too, her eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and amusement. She let him close the gap, her movements measured as she drove a fist into his midsection. It wasn't her full strength—she didn't need it. The impact sent him stumbling to the ground again, his suit absorbing most of the blow but doing nothing for his pride.

"You're persistent," Kara remarked, her tone dry. "I like that."

Electricity crackled once more as Storm advanced, arcs of lightning surging across her body. Ororo's expression shifted—serious now, the kind of serious that meant no more games.

"Ah, there it is," Kara muttered, grinning. "The hero moment. Don't blow it."

The next bolt of lightning tore through the air. Kara blurred out of its path, sidestepping effortlessly. She raised her hand, summoning the water still pooled around her. The liquid surged forward, a towering wave crashing into Storm with unrelenting force.

The impact sent Ororo to the ground in a spray of dirt and water. T'Challa, still rising, hesitated for the briefest moment as he watched his teammate struggle to recover.

Kara stood motionless, arms crossed, her posture so casual it bordered on insulting. She tilted her head slightly, studying them with detached curiosity before breaking the silence.

"You know," she said, her voice calm but cutting, "I like your spirit. Shame it's wasted on me."

T'Challa and Storm didn't hesitate. Any ounce of doubt after their first clash had been buried beneath their unwavering sense of duty. Sharing a wordless nod, they moved as one—a testament to years of training and mutual trust. Storm propelled herself upward, a violent gust of wind roaring to life beneath her, aimed at disrupting Kara's footing. At the same time, T'Challa darted in low, his claws gleaming in the dim light, seeking an opening at her exposed flank.

Kara didn't flinch. The gust barely ruffled her hair before she countered. Water erupted from the earth, a towering barrier surging between her and her attackers. The wave crashed forward with relentless force, sweeping T'Challa off his feet and sending him skidding across the soaked ground. His claws scraped against the mud as he fought to regain balance.

Above, Storm descended with the ferocity of her namesake. Lightning crackled around her, sharp and wild, before coalescing into a bolt aimed directly at Kara's chest. Kara tilted her head slightly, almost curious, as the lightning struck—only to fizzle harmlessly against the shimmering shield surrounding her.

"Is that it?" Kara asked, her voice calm but laced with boredom. "If this is Wakanda's best, I might have to start rethinking your reputation. All that talk of being invincible..." She trailed off, letting the insult hang in the air.

T'Challa's growl was low and guttural, a mix of frustration and determination. He lunged again, faster this time, his movements sharp and unpredictable. This wasn't the calculated king—it was the primal warrior, his claws a blur of silver as he aimed for her throat.

But Kara was done playing. A pulse of telekinetic energy rippled outward as she raised her hand, the force slamming into T'Challa mid-stride. The impact sent him hurtling into a tree with a sickening thud. His vibranium suit absorbed most of the blow, but even it couldn't completely mask the strain. He dropped to one knee, breathing hard, his claws digging into the dirt.

Meanwhile, Nakia stayed in the shadows, her movements precise and deliberate. She wasn't impulsive like T'Challa or as openly confrontational as Storm. Instead, she let her sharp eyes analyze the battlefield, noting every shift in Kara's focus and the terrain around them. As T'Challa hit the tree, Nakia darted silently into the underbrush, drawing the vibranium rings from her belt.

Storm struck again, her powers flaring to life as she summoned a cyclone. The air around Kara twisted violently, the wind howling with the promise of destruction. But Kara was already ahead of her. With a simple twitch of her fingers, the swirling winds dissipated into nothingness. Storm barely had time to react before a spear of ice materialized in Kara's hand, flying toward her with deadly precision. It shattered at Storm's feet, forcing her to leap back as shards scattered across the ground.

Kara smirked, her gaze darting between Storm and T'Challa, both struggling to recover. "I expected more from Wakanda's best and brightest," she said, her tone dripping with mockery.

Unnoticed by Kara, Nakia had maneuvered into position. Her approach was silent, her movements fluid as she threw one of her rings at Kara's exposed side. The weapon sliced through the air with lethal accuracy, but Kara turned at the last second, sidestepping effortlessly.

"Nice try," Kara muttered, her eyes flicking toward Nakia.

But Nakia wasn't done. She was already moving, recalibrating her trajectory to strike again. This time, Kara didn't wait. With an almost lazy motion, she unleashed a shockwave that sent Nakia stumbling back. Even so, Nakia regained her footing almost immediately, her sharp gaze locked on Kara.

"Persistent," Kara remarked, her tone almost impressed. "I'll give you that."

Her patience was thinning. Kara raised her hand sharply, and T'Challa and Storm were lifted into the air, suspended by an invisible force. T'Challa's suit flickered as the strain of the battle caught up with him, the vibranium barely holding together under the pressure. Storm's hands sparked weakly, arcs of lightning dancing between her fingers, but she couldn't break free.

"Enough," Kara said sharply, her voice ringing with finality.

Nakia, undeterred, hurled another ring. This one grazed Kara's hand but left her skin unblemished. Kara's head snapped toward Nakia, her expression shifting from annoyance to bemusement.

"You're really not getting it, are you?" she asked, lowering T'Challa and Storm unceremoniously back to the ground. "Points for effort, though."

Crossing her arms, Kara exhaled sharply, her exasperation obvious. "This is how Wakanda treats someone trying to help? Really? Some welcome."

T'Challa, still catching his breath, rose unsteadily to his feet. His mask slid back to reveal a face etched with both frustration and suspicion. His voice was calm but cold as he spoke.

"Explain yourself."