"Arnim Zola."
Steve's expression transformed from curiosity to shock. "Zola? But he's not an artificial intelligence—he was a man, a scientist who..."
Jason shrugged casually. "A Hydra doctor, yes. But after his capture, S.H.I.E.L.D. recognized his exceptional talents. They demonstrated a remarkably pragmatic approach—his political allegiances became irrelevant compared to his technological contributions."
Jason's tone grew more pointed. "That's why they overlooked his Hydra affiliations and exploited his expertise to develop cutting-edge technology. Eventually, he uploaded his consciousness into a computer network, transforming himself into a living code entity. While not identical to Stark Industries' AI, Zola effectively became humanity's first artificial intelligence lifeform."
Steve fell silent, his jaw tightening with barely contained anger. "Fortunate that S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists. Otherwise, I'd personally ensure that—"
He abruptly stopped himself, sighing heavily. The organization had, after all, been founded by Peggy Carter—the woman he'd loved—and Howard Stark, a man he'd called friend. The complicated emotions played across his face as he processed this revelation about an organization he'd once trusted.
After composing himself, he asked, "Where can we find Zola now?"
"New Jersey. An abandoned S.H.I.E.L.D. facility that's been offline for decades."
Steve's expression hardened with determination. "I'll locate him."
Meanwhile, in the underground genetic laboratory, Deadpool and Peter watched with mounting tension as a figure emerged from the shadows. The voice that had interrupted their conversation belonged to someone unmistakable—Tony Stark himself.
His unexpected presence confirmed their suspicions about the facility's significance. This wasn't just another Stark Industries black site; it was personally important to him.
Peter, emboldened by righteous indignation, stepped forward. "You've orchestrated the deaths of countless people in this facility, and you have the audacity to claim you're guiding human evolution?"
"Countless?" Stark repeated, his face unnervingly expressionless. "More than ten million people perished in World War I. World War II claimed over seventy million lives. That represents 'countless.'"
He gestured dismissively toward the containment units. "All beings eventually die. Contributing to collective advancement arguably provides greater meaning than perishing in mediocrity. Besides, these subjects are exclusively mutants—a population humanity has consistently feared and persecuted. Many were already convicted criminals. From a certain perspective, my work here actually protects society."
"Protecting society?" Deadpool scoffed. "What sinister endgame are you planning? Because this whole 'mad scientist lair with bodies in tubes' aesthetic is giving major supervillain vibes. I mean, you even have the dramatic lighting! Did you hire a set designer from a horror movie, or does evil just naturally gravitate toward blue backlighting and chrome furniture?"
He gestured wildly at the facility. "You know who else claimed they were 'protecting society'? Every dictator ever! Hitler, Stalin, that one guy from high school who became a Reddit moderator. This is like page one of the 'How to Justify Atrocities for Dummies' handbook!"
Stark shook his head, appearing genuinely puzzled by their hostility. "Have you forgotten the moniker 'Iron Man'? I am, fundamentally, a superhero. Since my inception, I've carried a singular purpose: safeguarding this world. Every action I take serves that mission."
"Wow, someone's taking their character bio a little too seriously," Deadpool muttered to Peter. "Next thing you know, he'll be quoting his own action figure packaging. 'Collect them all! Evil geneticist Tony Stark comes with detachable god complex and tiny human specimens!'"
Peter found himself momentarily speechless, stunned by Stark's seemingly unshakable self-righteousness. Could he truly believe these atrocities served a protective function?
"If your goal is earth protection," Peter challenged, "explain the purpose of this massive machine complex. What exactly are you creating here?"
To their surprise, Stark nodded readily, almost eager to share his vision. "As I stated, I intend to guide humanity's evolutionary trajectory. Both of you were once ordinary humans—surely you've experienced the frustration of biological vulnerability? Microscopic pathogens can extinguish human life. A speeding vehicle can instantly end existence. Even a sufficiently deep body of water can cause drowning."
His voice took on an almost messianic quality. "Humanity is pathetically fragile. Why shouldn't we enhance our fundamental design?"
Deadpool and Peter exchanged confused glances.
"You want to..." Deadpool began hesitantly, then dramatically pointed his finger upward. "Wait, I've seen this movie! Is this the part where you reveal you've got a spaceship hidden somewhere, loaded with your chosen specimens to restart humanity on another planet? Because I've gotta tell you, that plan has been done to death. Even the SyFy channel wouldn't pick up that script anymore."
He looked directly at an invisible audience. "Seriously, folks, name one sci-fi villain who DOESN'T want to 'enhance humanity.' Just one! It's like evil scientists get a mail-order catalog with only three options: enhance humanity, destroy humanity, or create a dinosaur theme park. At least the dinosaur guy had some originality!"
"Yes." Stark's face softened with what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm. "If this initiative succeeds, can you imagine the transformation? Newborn children will mature to adulthood within three to five years. They'll possess eidetic memory, superior logical processing, and enhanced neural responses—completing a decade's worth of education in a single year. Every individual will naturally achieve intellectual capabilities equivalent to multiple doctoral degrees."
Both heroes swallowed hard, the implications sinking in.
"Their physical forms will transcend current limitations," Stark continued, his eyes gleaming. "I've engineered enhanced strength, velocity, defensive capabilities, accelerated healing, flight, penetrative vision, thermal projection, biological stasis induction, cryogenic exhalation... the complete spectrum of superhuman abilities. These enhanced humans will require only solar energy for continued development. Eventually, unassisted interstellar travel will become possible through purely biological means."
"Holy shit," Deadpool blurted, his mask crinkling as he narrowed his eyes. "That sounds suspiciously familiar. Are you sure you're not plagiarizing? Won't your distinguished neighbor with the red cape sue you for intellectual property theft? Oh wait—nobody's monitoring this place, right?"
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Seriously, did you just describe Superman? Because that's Superman. You're literally trying to turn everyone into Superman. Which, admittedly, would make finding him in a crowd WAY harder. 'Where's Superman?' 'EVERYWHERE, ACTUALLY!'"
Peter turned toward Deadpool in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Listen, Spidey, when you've been in as many crossover events as I have, you start to see the patterns," Deadpool explained, conspiratorially lowering his voice. "There's this whole multiverse thing going on. DC, Marvel, it's all connected! Sometimes the walls between realities get thin, and people start 'borrowing' ideas."
He made exaggerated air quotes. "Like how Deadpool is totally original and not at all inspired by a certain DC character whose name rhymes with Shmade Shmilson. Completely different! I have katanas; he has guns. I have guns; he has swords. See? Totally different!"
He shook his head, returning to the matter at hand. "Though I gotta admit, what he's describing doesn't sound entirely terrible. As a former cancer patient, I intimately understand awaiting death's inevitable arrival. The whole 'body turning against you' experience is not fun—zero stars, would not recommend. Enhanced physical resilience would benefit humanity considerably. Plus, think about all the fun new sports we could invent! Lava volleyball! Orbital frisbee! Extreme underwater basket-weaving... without oxygen tanks!"
Peter stared at his partner incredulously. Is he seriously considering this madman's proposal?
Turning back to Stark, Peter argued, "The human body represents billions of years of natural evolutionary refinement. You're proposing a massive genetic restructuring implemented simultaneously across the species. Have you considered the catastrophic potential of failure?"
"Of course I have," Stark responded without hesitation. "I've developed comprehensive contingency protocols. Under my guidance, humanity faces no extinction risk."
"That's not the issue!" Peter countered, his voice rising. "The real problem is the innumerable tragedies your experimentation would cause! Millions suffering unimaginable torture, agony, and death during your 'transitional phase'!"
"Progress demands sacrifice," Stark replied, his voice hardening. "Are you aware how many people have perished worldwide from catastrophes directly attributable to superhuman activity?"
Peter hesitated. "I don't—"
"Three million, four hundred and seventy thousand," Stark stated precisely. "The confrontation between the Jörmungandr Cursed Hammer in Tokyo alone resulted in nearly two million casualties. Most remaining fatalities occurred within the United States, with several hundred thousand in Paris."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Deadpool interrupted, making a time-out gesture with his hands. "Are we seriously not going to talk about how that sounds like a made-up statistic?"
He turned to Peter. "This is classic villain math. They always have suspiciously specific numbers to justify their genocidal plans. And notice how they're always rounding down on their own atrocities? 'Oh, I only killed 46 people, but those superheroes accidentally caused 47 deaths while saving a city, so clearly I'm the good guy!'"
Peter recoiled at the staggering figures. "Those statistics..."
"Yes, statistics conveniently omitted from public knowledge," Stark continued relentlessly. "And these numbers represent only direct fatalities. Those left injured, disabled, or psychologically devastated exceed tens of millions. How does this differ from a third world war?"
Peter fell silent, unable to formulate a counterargument.
Deadpool glanced between them before adopting a casual tone. "So, just to clarify—if your grand scheme succeeds, what exactly will our world look like? A planet populated by superpowered toddlers zooming around and peeping through walls? Because I've seen toddlers, and giving them heat vision seems like a categorically terrible idea. Little Timmy doesn't get his juice box, next thing you know the daycare center is a smoking crater."
He gestured dramatically. "And what about puberty? Can you IMAGINE superhuman teenagers with mood swings? 'Mom, you're ruining my life!' accidentally freezes entire neighborhood That's not even considering what happens when they discover dating. Teen heartbreak plus the ability to move mountains? Recipe for disaster!"
Stark nodded seriously, seemingly missing Deadpool's sarcasm.
"And what happens to useless middle-aged specimens like myself?" Deadpool continued, striking a bodybuilder pose. "Will these superior beings eventually exterminate obsolete models? Because I've seen that movie too, and spoiler alert—it doesn't end well for the legacy humans. We get hunted for sport or kept as pets or turned into batteries. None of those options appeal to my retirement plans."
"They'll support the original human population," Stark assured him. "The transitional period requires only a few decades—the natural lifespan of conventional humans."
"Oh, how generous! We get to live out our pathetic regular human lives while being constantly reminded how inferior and obsolete we are!" Deadpool placed a hand over his heart. "It's like getting a participation trophy for the evolutionary Olympics. 'Good job existing! Here's your consolation prize: watching your species get replaced by something better!'"
Deadpool tilted his head, appearing to contemplate this vision of the future. "You know, that actually sounds somewhat reasonable... if you're a complete sociopath with delusions of godhood."
In a lightning-fast movement, he suddenly raised his Desert Eagle and fired directly at Stark's forehead.
"Spoiler alert: I don't negotiate with megalomaniacs!" he shouted as he pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet struck with perfect accuracy but ricocheted off Stark's skin with a metallic ping, leaving not even a mark where it had impacted.
"What the fuck?!" Deadpool exclaimed. "Your head is literally made of steel! Are you secretly a Terminator? Because that would explain SO much about your personality! Cold, logical, bad at high-fives, terrible at karaoke nights..."
He leaned toward Peter and stage-whispered, "This is why you always go for the dramatic reveal of your secret weapon AFTER confirming the bad guy can actually be hurt by conventional means. Classic mercenary mistake. They don't teach this stuff in anti-hero school."
Stark touched his forehead where the bullet had struck, seeming more puzzled than angered by the attack. "Why did you shoot me?"
"Well, I was aiming for your moral compass, but clearly you don't have one of those," Deadpool replied, casually checking his gun as if confused by its failure. "Also, in your utopian paradise, I wouldn't be special anymore. I'd rather die fighting against this brave new world than exist as an evolutionary relic within it."
He holstered his gun with a dramatic flourish. "Besides, shooting first is kind of my brand. Like Han Solo, but with worse personal hygiene and more psychological issues. The readers expect it!"
Stark's eyes suddenly glowed crimson. Rocket thrusters materialized from his back, propelling him several feet into the air. Panels across his shoulders and arms slid open, revealing an impressive array of weaponry.
"I understand now," Stark replied, his voice taking on a mechanical undertone. "Rest assured that before my vision comes to fruition, I'll eliminate potential destabilizing elements like you, Deadpool."
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