The First Kryptonian in Marvel

General (POV)

"Beep beep, Mr. Wilson?"

"It's me. The job's done. Hey, I need more money! My equipment's all wrecked! You guys are covering the damages, right? This isn't amateur hour."

"Done? Really?"

Wade gasped, clutching his chest as if he'd been shot—but in a melodramatic, Broadway kind of way. "Are you doubting my credibility? That hurts. That actually hurts. Like, worse than the time I mistook a grenade for a stress ball. Rookie mistake."

Sarah gave him a sidelong glance, already regretting her life choices. Tch, your credibility is just your thick skin, isn't it? She silently muttered, holding back a sigh.

"Of course not, Mr. Wilson. I trust you," Wesley said, the strain in his voice clear. "How about an additional five hundred thousand?"

Wesley weighed his options. Wilson's credibility was... well, not zero. Decent-ish. But if the target popped back up later, his boss would likely force him to pay back every cent with extra zeros for the headache.

Wade's scoff could've peeled paint off a wall. "What? Only five hundred thousand? Are you serious? My two swords are top-grade! Mastercrafted! Artisan-made! These babies are heirlooms, okay? Do you know how hard it is to replace weapons of this caliber? It's like finding good pizza outside of New York! Or decent Wi-Fi in a coffee shop! You know... impossible!"

Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. This guy. Every. Single. Time. "One million! I'll add one million!"

"Now we're talking! Done deal! Where are you? I'll come to find you. Oh, and I want cash!"

"Don't you have a bank account? I can just transfer it."

Wade recoiled as Wesley had just suggested setting his swords on fire. "Ugh, gross. No, no, no. My girlfriend's birthday is coming up, and I'm getting her a bag."

"So... just buy one?"

"It's not about the bag, buddy! Whether it's a fancy leather one, a backpack, or one of those crinkly reusable ones from the grocery store..."

Wesley squinted. "Then what is it about?"

"The money inside the bag!" Wade grinned, arms spread wide like he'd just discovered a cure for boring conversations.

"..."

Oh, for crying out loud, just say you want the cash! Wesley mentally screamed.

"Fine. Come to 46th Street," Wesley muttered in defeat. "I'll send someone with the cash."

"Cool, cool, cool," Wade chirped, turning to Sarah. "Let's go to 46th Street. Oh, and by the way, isn't it kinda rude to call someone this late? Like, hello, boundaries? Unless they're vampires, of course. Then it's fine. Oh! Are you secretly a vampire? Because that would be awesome. I have so many garlic questions."

...

On 46th Street, at a bar in a small alley, a place that was somewhat off the beaten path, with mostly regulars, Wade was sitting at the bar, sipping his drink like he was trying to drown his thoughts, which, let's be real, was probably a valid strategy. He was waiting for the person Wesley mentioned to show up with the money.

Boom.

"Mr. Wilson?"

Wade didn't even flinch. A man in a black suit, looking like he walked straight out of a James Bond film, spotted Deadpool at the bar. You couldn't miss him—the guy was sitting there in a tight red spandex suit, half-mask, and holding a drink like it was his best friend. The man sighed, approached him, and slapped a travel bag on the bar.

"Here's the remaining balance."

Wade opened the bag without hesitation, taking in the sight of two million in cash like it was a gift from the gods. He grinned. "Fast efficiency! Thanks! It's been a pleasure working with you!"

"Well then, goodbye."

The man in the black suit turned and walked away, clearly hoping this would be the last time he ever crossed paths with Deadpool. 

Outside the bar, Sarah stepped out from the shadows like she was auditioning for The Matrix. She quickly followed him, grabbing his shoulder, and bam! Switched positions with a shadow duplicate that had been hanging out on a rooftop.

Hmm, the rooftop's a good place—fewer people, nice and dark, safe...

"Who?"

The man in the black suit spun around, pulling out a gun and pointing it at nothing, panicking. He'd barely glanced behind him before realizing something was up.

Buzz~

Before he could blink, Sarah's fingers twitched, and a swarm of nanites erupted from her wristband like tiny little terror bots. They buzzed through the air, entering his skin like it was the most natural thing in the world. The man froze. His eyes widened, his body locking up as the nanites did their thing.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt."

Her voice echoed in his head—calm, cold, and definitely not what you want to hear when tiny robots are crawling through your brain. The nanites went to work, accessing his neural pathways and pulling up his memories like a playlist of not-so-fun highlights.

Brooklyn... Wesley... Kingpin...

Sarah smirked, watching as the images flashed through her mind. Brooklyn, huh? Wonder if Kingpin's hiding there too... eh, doesn't matter. I'll find Wesley first, then I'll know where the Kingpin's hiding. One thing at a time.

She tightened her grip on his shoulder, squeezing just a little harder. "I know what I need to know. Thanks for being so cooperative."

The nanites withdrew from his mind like they had a meeting to attend, leaving no trace behind. Sarah snapped her fingers, and—

Poof!

With a grin, Sarah casually dropped a dose of Hellfire on the guy. As his body went limp, his expression froze into a serene smile, as though he were just taking a nap. Yeah, that's how illusions worked. By the time his brain realized what happened, it was already too late.

Whoosh!

"You coming with me, or are you going home?" Sarah asked, reappearing next to Wade, who was standing outside the bar like a lost puppy—or a guy who just realized his Uber rating wasn't high enough to get a ride.

"Of course, I'm coming with you. Are you telling me this five-million-dollar job is just to find someone?" Wade asked, his eyebrows climbing higher than Spider-Man on a skyscraper.

"Of course not, but finding the person is part of the job. You'll still get paid," Sarah replied, arms crossed and channeling her inner "boss lady on a mission" vibe.

"Then I'm in!" Wade declared, with the enthusiasm of a guy who just found out Taco Tuesday got extended to Taco Every Day. "Five million's a lot of taco nights! Let's do it."

"Though, I think you should give me the money upfront," Sarah said casually like she wasn't just asking him to part with his soul. "You know, down payment… for dealing with Fisk, for you. You really think he's just gonna let you walk away from him? He'll come for you once he figures out you ripped him off."

Wade blinked at her, his brain visibly buffering. He scratched his chin like he was deciding between guac or no guac at Chipotle. "Wait—what? No way! This is my money! I'm the one who did all the work! I didn't hire you, you hired me!"

"Just kidding, bro! But we can't walk around with this much cash," Sarah said, smirking like she'd just stolen the punchline to his joke.

"Nah, just watch me." Wade adjusted his stance, his confidence oozing like cheese on nachos.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, the universal sign for Really, dude? "Just give it to me. You'll get it back. I'm just storing it for safekeeping. Not like I'm gonna go on a shopping spree."

Wade glanced at the bag like it was a rescue puppy he wasn't ready to give up. "Sure, Miss Magical Girl. When I give it to you, will it just poof into thin air? And then, I don't know, will you forget how to make it come back? You know, like a magic trick... only it's not really magic, it's theft?"

"Wade, I'm not kidding. You can trust me!" Sarah insisted, her tone teetering between reassuring and "Don't make me smack you with logic."

Wade sighed dramatically like he was handing over the last slice of pizza. He finally let go of the bag, each finger curling like he was in a slow-motion movie scene. "Fine, here. Take my hard-earned, probably bloodstained, very-not-Fisk-friendly cash."

Sarah snatched the bag and casually shoved it into her shadow like she was clocking out for the day. "See? Now we don't have to carry it around."

Wade stared at her, his eyebrow arching higher than a gymnast on a vault. "Please make it reappear, or am I gonna wake up with one less kidney? Because I only have two, and they're both working overtime."

Sarah rolled her eyes and plunged her hand into the shadow, pulling the bag back out like a magician with a questionable work ethic. "Here. Happy now?"

Wade squinted at the bag like it was a piñata filled with snakes. "Hmm. Still don't trust it. Pretty sure that shadow's alive. Is it gonna eat me? Am I getting shadow-jacked right now? Because I'm not signing up for that insurance policy."

...

In the sky above a luxurious Brooklyn neighborhood, Sarah and Wade glided through the air with the grace of overpowered pigeons, giving the phrase "flying under the radar" a whole new meaning.

"You better remember to pay me back for the money... that's for my wedding," Wade rambled on, not once pausing to take a breath. He went on and on about the horrors of earning money, his vague plans for a wedding—somewhere, someday, with someone—and how high they were flying. For a moment, he even wondered aloud if he'd die from the fall. Classic Wade.

Sarah stared ahead, trying her best to ignore his constant chatter. "I think you might have pre-wedding anxiety, Wade," she commented dryly, casting him a sideways glance. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort as his voice ricocheted through the air. What's this, feeding me dog food? You're getting married, and I'm not even invited? Not even a red envelope? No, thank you. You're clearly sick—get it treated, man!

"How could I?!" Wade practically shouted, arms flailing as if he could physically shake off the anxiety. "I just really want to get married, you know? I really want to walk down the aisle with Vanessa! There's no anxiety! No way! It's just not possible!"

"When are you getting married?" Sarah asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet."

"You don't know? You haven't even proposed yet? You haven't told Vanessa? Then why the hell are you stressing out?!" Sarah was a few seconds away from slapping her face with the palm of her hand.

Wade looked at her like she'd just spoken in a forgotten dialect. "What are you even saying? You've got me silently wishing you the best in my heart, and this is how it is?"

"Ah, hahaha! Well, I'm just thinking ahead. If I prepare early, then when the day comes, it'll be foolproof, right?" Wade grinned like he had just unlocked the secrets of the universe.

Sarah paused, staring at him for a long moment. "... I've completely lost faith in your logic."

Finally, they arrived at the mansion. Sarah cursed under her breath as they touched down. This place screamed "wealth" and "danger," like an Armani suit with a skull on the lapel. Kingpin didn't mess around.

Wade, on the other hand, seemed pretty comfortable in this level of excess. "Ooh, I love the decor! It screams 'I'm rich and probably have a lot of skeletons in my closet.'"

"Shut up," Sarah muttered, scanning the lavish surroundings with an almost professional gaze. Her mind was already back on business, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being a little too out of place.

Meanwhile, back at Wesley's mansion, the man had finally gotten some sleep after a grueling night of waiting for updates. He'd set things in motion—his most trusted people were handling the delivery of the final payment to Wilson and double-checking the job status. With everything lined up, he was finally able to rest. But, of course, his brain had other plans.

In his sleep, he was trapped in a nightmare, staring into the eyes of a thousand faceless figures from pitch-black shadows. He tried to scream, but his voice was a mere whisper, lost in the suffocating darkness. Then the eyes came closer—and the worst part? They weren't monsters, but his own reflection. Charred, burned, and broken.

"Ah!!" Wesley bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat, heart racing. His breath came in ragged gasps, the remnants of the nightmare still lingering in his mind.

Then he heard it—the chirp of a voice, playful and chilling. "I knew he was dreaming just now, but you didn't believe me. Haha, I even recorded the scared look on his face!"

Wesley froze, his blood turning cold at the sound of the voice. "Who?!" he demanded, his hands instinctively reaching for the gun under his pillow.

He scanned the shadows of the room, eyes narrowing as he spotted two figures lurking in the dark.

"Who's there?"

His grip tightened on the gun, his left hand fumbling for the bedside lamp. Click.

The light flickered on, blinding for a moment as Wesley's eyes adjusted. And then, he saw him—Wilson. The hired assassin was lounging casually in a chair like he was in his own living room. Beside him, a woman in a hoodie and knee-high boots stood with her arms crossed, her eyes trained on Wesley like she was watching a particularly amusing sitcom.

"You know," Wade said, a grin stretching across his face like a cat who'd eaten the canary, "this would be a lot more fun if you weren't holding that gun. Makes me feel like I'm gonna have to break out the ol' 'explain everything slowly and in a fun voice' routine."

"You're the mysterious one?" Wesley asked, his voice shaking, but still carrying the sharp edge that made him the right-hand man of Kingpin. "Wilson didn't kill you, but he sold me out? He shouldn't know where I live—especially when I sent the money."

Wesley's heart was still racing, but the panic quickly gave way to professionalism. This was Kingpin's world, and in that world, survival meant staying calm and calculating—even when Deadpool was knocking on your door.

"Yup. It's me," Sarah said with a nonchalant grin as if they were chatting about the weather. "I want to know where Mr. Fisk lives. Got some business to discuss with him." Her tone was so casual, it was like she was asking about the Wi-Fi password, not threatening to end Wesley's career—and possibly his life.

Wade, standing in the corner, threw his hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, no no, I'm not betraying you, buddy," he said, his voice exaggerated in mock sympathy. "It's just that, well, she offered too much. Hoo~ Sorry, pal." He gave a tiny, almost apologetic wave like he was backing out of an awkward first date.

"Impossible," Wesley spat, jaw clenching with defiance. "I won't tell you where he lives. Even if you go there, you'll be killed! Don't think just because you can handle a dishonorable mercenary you can defeat Fisk!"

"Dishonorable?" Wade's eyebrow shot up in mock offense. "Excuse me, pal, but just because I didn't finish the job, doesn't mean I'm dishonorable. Maybe I'm... I dunno... a semi-honorably confused mercenary?" He paused as if the idea had just hit him like a brick. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right."

"I think you've been exclusively confused for a while, Wade," Sarah deadpanned, rolling her eyes like someone dealing with a child who'd just eaten glue.

Wesley tightened his grip on the gun. It was clear he wasn't stupid enough to make a move. Sure, he was the logistics guy, but facing this kind of insanity? He'd rather try to outsmart a grizzly bear wearing a top hat.

"So, what, you're here for revenge?" Wesley scoffed, eyeing them both with a mix of annoyance and fear. "Did we offend you, or is this just some weird mission to sabotage our operations because you've got a weird vendetta against Kingpin, or... what's next, you out here fighting crime because you're a caped crusader in your free time?"

Sarah's smile grew, and she tilted her head like she was explaining something painfully obvious to a particularly slow student. "Oh, please. Superhero." She waved a hand as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Isn't it normal for superheroes to fight crime? You know, the whole saving the world, one terrible villain at a time?" She paused, narrowing her eyes. "You're a villain. Kingpin's a villain. I'm just here to make your lives a little more difficult."

Wade, meanwhile, twirled his guns and shot a grin at Sarah. "See? Totally superhero material. I mean, we're practically the Avengers, right? Except without the budget. Or, like, moral compass." He looked at Wesley and gave a theatrical sigh. "Ugh, I'm sorry, man. She's really into the whole 'justice' thing. It's cute. I'm just here for the chimichangas."

"???" 

"A superhero? Are you kidding me? Just because of that?" Wesley scoffed, his frustration reaching new heights. "And you're only targeting us? This city's got a million problems—why not help someone else for once? There's a whole bunch of people out there who need saving. Why not go save them, you idiot?" He cursed Sarah mentally, then added, "Breaking into someone's home isn't exactly superhero behavior, is it?"

"Yeah, exactly. That's why no one knows I'm a superhero," Sarah quipped, deadpan. She wasn't about to entertain Wesley's rant.

Wesley blinked at her, absolutely flabbergasted. "... Are you out of your mind? You're doing good deeds, without anyone knowing? What kind of hero does that? And you're saying you're not here for revenge? Pfft, who would believe that? Only an idiot would!"

Wade, always ready to spice things up, leaned forward with a dramatic gasp. "Whoa, wait, are you like, that kind of hero? The one who saves the day from the shadows? Are you the Batman of this trash heap of a city, Sarah? What a noble character you are!" He clasped his hands together in mock reverence, eyes wide. "I bet you have a secret Batcave and everything."

Wesley froze, clearly thrown off by Wade's sudden burst of ridiculousness.

"???"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just... a complete idiot for thinking these two were normal," Wesley muttered mentally, rubbing his temples. "My bad, I apologize!!" He snapped out loud, glaring at Wade and Sarah. "You moron! Which insane asylum did you escape from? And you damn mercenary—Wade Wilson? Whoever said you were reliable and had a good reputation was clearly out of their damn minds! Mixing with the target? That's 'reliable'? Bringing the target into the employer's home? That's a 'high reputation'? If I survive this, I swear, I'll find whoever spread those damn rumors about you and... and—Oh, who am I kidding, I'll probably just die here, anyway."

Wade, unfazed by the outburst, flashed Wesley a thumbs-up and a grin. "Thanks, buddy, really appreciate the faith in me. Seriously though, if you ever need a reference for my stellar work ethic, I'm available anytime. My rates are reasonable—just don't ask about the 'special circumstances'... Things get complicated."

Sarah rolled her eyes like she had a degree in dealing with idiots, then turned back to Wesley, her tone shifting to pure business. "Alright, seeing how angry you are, let's cut to the chase. Where does Kingpin live?"

Wesley's grip tightened on the gun, jaw set like granite. "Kill me if you want. I'm not betraying anyone."

He shot a look at Wade when he said the word "betray," his eyes silently saying, "I don't care how much I hate this, I'm not turning on Kingpin for any amount of money."

Wade raised an eyebrow at Wesley's resolve and shook his head. "Tough crowd. Alright, alright, no need to get all 'loyal employee of the year' on me."

Sarah didn't flinch. She was ready for this. "Heh, no worries," she said with a faint, confident smile. "You'll talk. Everyone talks eventually."

Wesley scoffed, still holding the gun steady. "Hmph, why would I? Even though I can't fight, that doesn't mean I don't have courage." He eyed her with a cocky smirk. "If worse comes to worst, I'll just shoot myself. Yeah. Right here. You think you've got me? Think again."

He tightened his grip on the gun, daring her to make her move, his eyes challenging her like a man who had nothing left to lose.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Why? Because I have my ways~ Heh." She leaned in a bit closer, voice low, like a promise of something much worse than death.

Wade, unable to resist the moment, chimed in. "Ooh, I'm on the edge of my seat here. How is she gonna get him to talk? I'm just dying to know!"

Wesley shot him an exasperated glare. "Shut up, you freak."

Wade gave him an innocent shrug. "Just trying to make it fun, Wes. Geez."

Sarah had a plan: to turn Kingpin—who hadn't yet united all of New York's gangs—into an ally. Comparing the timeline to Ghost-Spider's immersion and Spiderman's in the MCU, Sarah figured this Kingpin wasn't yet at full strength. No clashes with Ghost-Spider. No run-ins with that special someone he secretly admired. He was strong, yes, but not unstoppable. And luckily, she didn't need to trade punches with him. Just abilities

"It's moments like this I miss my soul magic," Sarah mused, flexing her fingers. "But hey, technology can do the same thing as a compulsion charm if you're creative enough!"

Her words made Wesley tense. "What?" he muttered, instinctively stepping backward, his eyes narrowing at her twitching hand. "What are you—?"

Before he could finish, a swarm of tiny nanites burst forth from Sarah's wristband, invisible to others but shimmering like metallic fireflies to her eyes, as they zipped through the air. Silent, subtle, and terrifyingly efficient, they breached his skin before he even realized what was happening.

Wesley froze, his breath quickening. "What the hell—what did you just—"

Deadpool practically vibrated with glee. "Oooh, here it comes! Drumroll, please!" He started smacking his thighs in imitation. "Readers, let's hope this doesn't disappoint!"

Sarah, calm as ever, advanced toward Wesley with deliberate steps.

He saw her movement and made a desperate decision. Raising his gun to his temple, Wesley prepared to die for his loyalty. But as he willed his finger to squeeze the trigger, nothing happened. His hand refused to obey him. His body was completely frozen, a puppet with its strings cut.

Panic flooded his face. "What did you do? Who are you?"

Sarah ignored the rising pitch of his voice, her expression calm and calculating as she stopped just inches from him. Sweat dripped down Wesley's face as he stared at her finger approaching his forehead, inch by inch, like a countdown to oblivion.

"This is insane—this isn't happening—this can't—" His voice broke as his fear overtook him.

Sarah stopped, tilting her head slightly like she was examining a particularly interesting insect. "My advanced nanobots penetrated your blood-brain barrier," she said matter-of-factly. "They've precisely targeted specific neurons. Right now, they're manipulating your neural activity. Long story short? I'm in control of your thoughts, emotions, and actions. But you'll still be able to think clearly. You know, just to appreciate the horror of your situation."

Wesley's eyes widened in sheer terror. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Sarah said with a raised brow, her voice light like she was teasing a child.

Deadpool, meanwhile, threw his hands up. "Okay, cool? Sure. But honestly, me and the readers were hoping for something more dramatic. Maybe a glowing laser finger? Some sparks? A monologue? Can we add those in the post?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, retracting her hand and stepping back. "Focus, Wade."

Wesley could only stare at her, his breathing ragged. His body felt like it was his, yet it wasn't. He could think, panic, rage—but he couldn't act on any of it. It was like being trapped in a lucid nightmare.

Deadpool leaned over Wesley, waggling his eyebrows. "So, how does it feel to be a nanite zombie? Or should we call you Robo-Wes? Ooh, I like that. Rolls right off the tongue."

Sarah shot him a look but didn't waste her energy responding. She studied Wesley, her tone turning sharp. "Now, here's the deal. You're going to help me find Kingpin. I don't need your loyalty, Wesley, just your usefulness. Understood?"

Wesley wanted to scream, fight, or even blink without her permission, but all he could manage was a shaky, "Y-yes."

Deadpool gave her a slow clap. "Ten out of ten for the creepy tech villain routine, Sarah. A+ execution. Can we do it again but with a cool line? Like, 'Resistance is futile,' or—oh!—'Welcome to my web of despair.'"

"Where is Kingpin now?"

"He's at a villa near Long Island, close to Brooklyn," Wesley answered immediately, lowering his gun. He stood up from the bed, his demeanor transformed into one of utmost respect.

Wade blinked in surprise. "Wow, from 'I'll die before I betray Kingpin' to 'Here's his address with a side of gratitude.' What did you use? Magic? Like, actual magic? Wait, don't tell me—your magic lets you fly and control people? Cool! Can I get a demo? Oh! Can you make me do the robot? I've been meaning to perfect my moves."

Sarah gave him a flat look. "Nope. This one's all technology." She gestured at Wesley. "Speaking of which... Wesley, do you happen to have five million dollars? Or maybe a check handy?"

"I do," Wesley said without hesitation. "I can write a check."

Wade's jaw dropped under his mask. "Wait, hold up—did you just Jedi-mind-trick him into paying me? Sarah, I take back every complaint I've ever had about you. You're my hero."

"Alright, Wesley, please write the check and hand it to Mr. Wilson." Sarah crossed her arms. "Wade, our contract is now complete. You can go home."

Wade scratched his head. "That's it? It's over? No explosions? No dramatic showdowns? No witty one-liners while dodging bullets?" He pointed to Wesley, who was calmly writing the check. "Seriously? Five million for a treasure hunt?!"

Sarah hesitated, glancing at Wesley. Was it too expensive? she wondered. 

Wade leaned in, his masked face uncomfortably close to hers. "You're not planning to keep my two million, right? Right?"

"...…" Sarah's expression froze.

Wade gasped dramatically. "Oh my God, you are! You're actually gonna stiff me! Two million! That's like, a bajillion tacos! The audacity!"

"Fine! I'll give it to you," Sarah snapped, pulling out the travel bag containing Wade's advance. "Think of it as a wedding gift for Vanessa, okay? Happy?"

Wade's head tilted, then he grinned under his mask. "Hehehe, I'll thank you on behalf of Vanessa!" He grabbed the bag and accepted the five-million-dollar check from Wesley. "Is this what people mean when they say 'dream job'? Tonight's my lucky night! Woohoo!"

Before he could leave, Sarah's tone turned serious. "Wade, now that you have some cash, move somewhere safer. Don't expose your location so easily. You're unkillable, but Vanessa isn't. This is just advice. You've got a lot of enemies, and not everyone plays fair."

Wade paused, his usually flippant demeanor softening for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks for the advice~" He waved as he sauntered off, bag in hand. "And hey, if you need another mercenary for hire, you've got my number! Not cheap, though. Quality costs, you know!"

Sarah watched him go, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She hadn't sought him out, but their meeting felt like a lucky twist of fate. Still, she had bigger fish to fry.

Turning to Wesley, she gave him a calm nod. "Get some rest. Keep doing what you usually do. If I need you, I'll find you."

"Yes, Miss Red Reaper," Wesley replied with a bow of his head.

Sarah froze mid-step, scratching her cheek awkwardly. "... Red Reaper? Really? I didn't—ugh, whatever." She waved off her embarrassment.

Swish!

The sun was beginning to rise—it was almost 7 AM. Sarah made a mental note to rest before heading after Kingpin later that evening. Though she trusted the nanobots to keep Wesley in line, she hoped his unaltered logic wouldn't lead to any slip-ups.

But if it did? Well, she'd handle it. She always did.