On a deserted beach, waves rolled lazily onto the shore. The afternoon sun burned bright, reflecting off the ocean like shattered glass.
Deadpool stood alone.
In his hand, a slender glass tube glowed with soft blue light.
The Super Soldier Serum.
He tilted it gently, watching the liquid ripple under sunlight.
"So," he muttered, "what happens if I inject this?"
Captain Deadpool.
That had a nice ring to it.
The serum, according to what he remembered, pushed a person's physical body to the absolute peak of human potential. Strength, speed, endurance—all maximized.
Don't ask him why "human limits" allowed someone to hold back helicopters or punch through metal. That was a question for comic book writers who treated physics like an optional suggestion.
Mentally, the serum amplified personality traits.
The good became better.
The bad became worse.
Deadpool tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Better" wasn't happening. In a previous life, maybe he had been a decent, balanced person.
Now?
He was chaos with legs.
So that left "worse."
He blinked.
"Can I even get worse?"
More vulgar?
More violent?
More unstable?
He looked down at himself.
"…Probably not much difference."
Then his eyes shifted to something only he could see.
A translucent panel floating before him.
His system interface.
Yes.
As a proper transmigrator, he possessed a cheat system.
Was it kind?
No.
Was it helpful?
Sometimes.
Did it respect human dignity?
Absolutely not.
He had a one-cubic-meter storage space. Small but practical. The serum disappeared from his hand instantly when stored.
He had instant costume change functionality.
No more struggling with zippers mid-battle.
No more painful skin pinches when changing too fast.
And then—
There was the task list.
Task: Kick the American muscular posterior.
Time limit: Three days.
Reward: +1 free attribute point.
Punishment: Choose between 24 hours physical castration or 24 hours chemical castration.
Deadpool stared at the text.
"See?" he muttered. "This system is more evil than I am."
It knew he couldn't die.
So it threatened something worse.
His "little Wade."
"Unbelievable," he sighed.
Then—
A cold gun barrel pressed against his temple.
"Don't move. Turn around."
Deadpool obeyed calmly, rotating so the barrel now pointed at the back of his head.
He felt his twin pistols removed.
Then his twin katanas.
"Turn back."
He turned.
Standing a few steps away was a British officer in uniform.
Sharp eyes.
Perfect posture.
Imposing presence.
Peggy Carter.
Even in wartime attire, her presence commanded attention. Calm. Precise. Unshaken.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "Why is the serum in your hands?"
Deadpool lowered his voice dramatically.
"I am Batman."
Carter's eyes narrowed.
"And the serum?"
"What serum?"
She glanced down.
Her breath caught.
The vial was gone.
She had seen it clearly in his left hand moments ago.
His hands had been raised the entire time.
How?
Her gaze flicked back to his hands.
Now—
The serum was in his right hand.
Glowing under sunlight.
Her expression hardened.
"How did you do that?"
"Four-dimensional pocket," Deadpool replied casually. "Have you seen Doraemon?"
"What?"
"You didn't have a childhood?"
Deadpool shook his head in disappointment.
He completely ignored the fact that it was 1943 and Doraemon wouldn't exist for decades.
"Who sent you?" Carter pressed. "Which country?"
"I already said—"
Bang!
The bullet skimmed past his ear.
Deadpool clutched his head dramatically.
"My ear! My beautiful ear!"
He checked it.
"Heh. Still there."
Carter remained unmoved.
Deadpool raised both fists suddenly and declared loudly:
"I am an agent sent by the Empire of the Setting Sun to steal the serum from the evil United States and build a super soldier legion to dominate the world!"
Carter stared at him in silence.
At least one thing was true.
She didn't believe a word.
Britain was already involved in the serum project. Dr. Abraham Erskine had been brought to America through British cooperation.
There was zero logical reason for Britain to sabotage something it would benefit from.
Deadpool shrugged.
"Told you."
Before Carter could respond—
"Carter!"
Steve Rogers ran toward them from a distance.
He had handed Raymond over for custody but heard the gunshot and rushed toward the sound.
Carter instinctively turned her head toward Steve.
That single second was enough.
Deadpool bent low and launched forward toward his weapons.
Bang!
Carter fired.
Swish!
Clang!
Deadpool drew a katana mid-motion and swung upward.
The blade struck the bullet in midair.
The Vibranium alloy edge split it cleanly.
The two fragments flew apart.
Then—
Two bursts of blood bloomed from Deadpool's chest.
He froze.
The katana slipped from his grip.
Both bullet fragments had pierced his lungs.
He staggered backward.
Collapsed onto the sand.
His breathing turned ragged.
Wet.
Foamy blood bubbled from beneath his mask.
Carter and Steve both froze in shock.
Steve rushed forward and lifted him carefully.
Deadpool's body trembled weakly.
Steve reached to remove the mask.
Suddenly—
Deadpool grabbed his wrist.
Pressed Steve's hand firmly against his own face.
His eyes widened dramatically.
His voice came out broken, wet.
"Ste… Steve?"
"You're Steve?"
The disbelief in his tone was overwhelming.
As if seeing something impossible.
As if witnessing a legend in person.
His breathing grew weaker.
Blood soaked through the mask.
Carter knelt beside them, confused.
Why did this strange man know Steve's name?
Deadpool's vision blurred.
He let out a final shaky whisper.
"You really exist…"
His body went limp.
His grip loosened.
Steve felt it.
The weight shift.
The stillness.
He looked at Carter.
Her expression was unreadable.
The wind swept across the beach.
Then—
A faint twitch.
A tiny movement beneath the mask.
Deadpool's chest jerked violently.
A wet, horrific sound echoed.
His lungs began stitching themselves back together.
Bones realigned.
Flesh regenerated.
Steve and Carter stared in stunned silence.
Deadpool suddenly sucked in a massive breath.
"AHHHH!"
He sat upright instantly.
"Okay! That hurt way more than expected!"
Steve stumbled backward in shock.
Carter raised her weapon again instinctively.
Deadpool looked down at his blood-covered chest.
Then at Steve.
Then at the system panel.
Task reminder: Kick the American muscular posterior. 2 days 23 hours remaining.
Deadpool blinked slowly.
"Oh no."
He looked at Steve's perfectly sculpted back.
Then at the glowing serum stored safely in his pocket space.
Then back at Steve.
History was standing right in front of him.
Captain America.
The first Avenger.
And the system wanted him to kick that legendary backside.
Deadpool swallowed.
"This is what they call a boss fight, isn't it?"