"Sir," Jarvis said smoothly through the speaker, "I feel it's necessary to remind you that Mr. Wade was only watching a talk show in the living room. Earlier, he asked me the price of the sofa because he said it was… extremely comfortable."
Pepper couldn't help laughing.
Tony, however, went silent.
A talk show.
So that "low-budget film" Wade described—single-digit cast, no scene changes, simple plot, and extremely exciting—was just a normal program.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate him."
Wade's voice came through Tony's phone again, casual as ever. "Jarvis said you were expecting a surprise?"
"Yes," Tony replied, watching Pepper wipe a smile off her face as she tried to look serious again.
Tony's tone sharpened. "What kind of surprise?"
"You'll know when you get home," Wade said. "As for whether it's nine joys and one shock… or nine shocks and one joy…"
He paused.
"That depends on your personal tolerance."
Tony's expression tightened. "Are you at my house right now?"
"Yes."
The humor vanished from Tony's face in an instant. "I'm coming back immediately."
Over the past few days, Tony had learned something important about Wade Wilson:
Deadpool looked unreliable.
But when it mattered, he was sharp in a way that made Tony uncomfortable—like someone who was always joking with one hand while holding a knife behind his back with the other.
If Wade said "surprise," it meant he had found something.
Something real.
As for Wade's origins—his abilities, his impossible timing in the cave, the mysteries around him—Tony had made a decision not to dig too deep. Tony didn't need the full story.
He just needed to know one thing:
Wade wouldn't hurt him.
And Wade wouldn't hurt Pepper.
That was enough.
---
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters — Director's Office
A large projection screen dominated the darkened room.
It was split into two feeds.
On the left: shaky footage from the desert cave. A red-suited figure pulled weapons out of nowhere—dual swords appearing as if summoned—and cut bullets out of the air, turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.
On the right: satellite footage of Tony Stark testing the Mark II armor, the steel suit streaking across the sky like a missile.
Agent Hill stood near the screen, arms folded, her brows tight with concern.
"Director," she said, "isn't it too hasty to invite them now?"
Her eyes flicked toward the footage.
"Both of them are problem children."
She gestured toward the left screen. "Wade Wilson has left no trace for decades. He's like someone who appeared from nowhere. We don't know his history, his training, or whether he's connected to another organization."
Her voice grew colder.
"Recruiting him too quickly is like inviting a wolf into the house."
Then she pointed toward Tony's feed.
"And Tony Stark… his background is clear, but his personality is a mess. He's arrogant, independent, and not exactly team material."
Nick Fury sat behind his desk, one eye fixed on the screen, the other on Hill.
He didn't look worried.
"It doesn't matter," Fury said calmly.
"The Avengers Initiative is nominally under S.H.I.E.L.D., but it operates independently. Right now, it's still a trial."
He leaned back slightly.
"If problems appear, we disband it on the spot, change the name, and start again."
Hill's expression didn't soften.
Fury continued, voice low and steady.
"And Natasha knows what she's doing. She'll make her own judgment."
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Fury said.
The door opened.
Natasha Romanoff and Phil Coulson entered together.
Fury's gaze moved between them.
"How is it?"
Natasha and Coulson exchanged a quick look. Coulson stepped forward first.
"Director," Coulson reported, "Tony Stark has agreed to cooperate with our investigation. The specific timing hasn't been set yet. I plan to visit Ms. Pepper again tomorrow to arrange it."
Fury nodded once, then turned to Natasha.
"And Wade Wilson?"
Natasha's lips twitched, as if she was still recovering from the experience of dealing with Wade.
"Wade Wilson has tentatively agreed," she said. "But he requested to be listed as an external member for now."
Fury nodded slightly.
"That's good enough."
For an initial contact, it was already more than expected.
Fury's voice hardened with quiet command.
"Coulson, your mission remains unchanged."
Then he looked at Natasha.
"Natasha, make more appearances around Wade. Keep contact. If you can get closer to Tony through him… do it."
"Understood," Coulson replied.
"Understood," Natasha echoed.
---
Stark Mansion — Return Home
The helicopter's rotors slowed, then finally stopped.
Tony pulled Pepper along as they hurried inside. He moved fast—too fast for someone trying to act calm.
Pepper gave him a look. "Tony, you're squeezing my hand."
Tony didn't let go. "Just… stay close."
They entered the living room.
The TV was on.
A talk show played loudly, full of laughter and applause.
And right there—sprawled on Tony's sofa like a king in exile—was Deadpool.
He was asleep.
One arm draped over the backrest, the other hanging off the edge. He looked completely at home, like he paid rent.
The moment Tony saw him like that, the tension in his chest loosened slightly.
He leaned toward Pepper and lowered his voice.
"Do you still have the stun gun I gave you? The one for… wolves?"
Pepper took two steps back instantly. "Tony. No."
Tony grinned. "Relax. I'll lower the voltage."
A sudden chill ran down Deadpool's spine.
He snapped awake like someone had poured ice down his neck.
No.
A villain.
A villain is approaching.
Deadpool's eyes widened as he saw Tony walking toward him with a mischievous smile—holding Pepper's stun gun, the tip crackling with electricity.
Their eyes locked.
Tony's grin froze.
Deadpool's voice shot up an octave. "What are you doing?! I haven't done anything yet!"
Tony took another step.
Deadpool panicked. "Hehehe—little Tony, don't resist! It'll only hurt for a moment! Deadpool Master will be very gentle!"
Tony's face twisted. "DON'T COME OVER!"
"Jarvis! Pepper! HELP!!!"
Then—
ZZZZZZZZZT!
A burst of electricity flashed.
And Tony Stark collapsed onto his own sofa like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Deadpool lowered the stun gun and stared at it with genuine admiration.
"…Wow."
He turned it over in his hands. "This thing is effective."
Pepper sighed, half annoyed, half amused. "Tony made it for me."
Deadpool's eyes flicked to the bottom of the device.
There was a button.
"Ooh, what's this—"
"Don't!" Pepper warned.
Too late.
Deadpool pressed it.
The stun gun's head suddenly shot forward like a projectile clamp and snapped onto Tony's shirt.
ZZZZZZZZZT!
Tony's body twitched.
Pepper stared at Deadpool.
Deadpool stared at the stun gun.
Deadpool spoke softly, respectfully. "This is genius."
---
Ten Minutes Later
Tony and Deadpool sat upright on the sofa like two schoolboys who had just been scolded.
Both were pretending nothing happened.
Tony cleared his throat. "So…"
He narrowed his eyes at Wade.
"What exactly is the surprise you mentioned?"
Deadpool turned his head. "Jarvis."
"Understood, sir."
Pepper's eye twitched.
Wade had been in the house for barely any time, yet he ordered Jarvis around like he owned him. Pepper had worked with Tony for years and still sometimes felt like she was negotiating with an expensive machine.
Now she watched Wade casually command Tony's AI like it was normal.
A strange sense of crisis rose in her chest.
Am I going to lose my job?
The TV screen switched.
A dense list of data appeared.
Transaction records.
Shipping logs.
Purchase orders.
Pages and pages of weapon sales—hidden beneath company systems.
The most recent entry was from this morning.
Tony's face darkened instantly.
Pepper's breath caught.
"What…?" she whispered.
Then louder: "How is this possible? Tony shut down the weapons department!"
Tony's jaw tightened. "Where did this come from?"
Deadpool leaned back and answered like it was no big deal.
"Stark Industries."
"I had Jarvis help me write a program."
"I hacked into the company database."
Tony turned sharply. "You what?"
Deadpool lifted a hand. "Relax. I only violated your privacy for justice."
Then he explained everything—how he entered the Stark building, how he misled the receptionist, how he got into the CEO office, how he copied records connected to Obadiah's operations.
Pepper glanced at Jarvis, her expression complex.
Jarvis was an AI, yes, but he was also… Jarvis.
If Tony ever sent him to a lab to be "studied," it would feel like a crime.
Tony leaned back into the sofa, rubbing his temples.
A headache was already forming.
Those bastards had bypassed Tony—the largest shareholder—and continued selling weapons behind his back.
And neither Tony nor Pepper had seen any of it until now.
Pepper's mind raced.
"We should contact Obadiah," she said quickly. "He has to know about this."
Tony nodded, but Deadpool raised one finger.
"Excellent idea."
"But before you make that call…"
Deadpool's voice lowered.
"I have a second surprise for you."
Tony sat up straight.
Pepper's eyes widened.
The first surprise was already a bomb.
A second one?
Tony stared at Wade like he was staring at a ticking device.
"Do we need to take heart medicine first?" Tony asked warily.
Deadpool waved dismissively. "No need. Hurry up. You can handle it."
Tony inhaled and forced confidence into his voice. "Fine. Just show me. I can handle it."
Deadpool nodded with fake sympathy.
"Nine women have told me that exact line."
"And every single one of them regretted it in the end."
Tony's mouth twitched. "I… don't know if I should feel honored or insulted."
Deadpool pointed at him. "You're the first man to say it."
"And tragically… I think you'll regret it too."
Pepper stared at both of them, suspicious. "Do you two need… alone time?"
Deadpool shook his head. "Nope."
He pointed at her.
"You're also part of the show."
Pepper: "…Great."
Deadpool leaned forward.
"Jarvis."
"Begin."
The big screen changed again.
A new video started playing.
Desert footage.
Tony—bound, hooded—surrounded by terrorists.
Voices shouting.
Angry demands.
A name thrown out like a curse:
"Obadiah Stane!"
Tony's face drained of color.
Pepper's expression hardened instantly, all humor gone.
The room felt colder.
The talk show laughter on the TV was now nothing but distant noise.
Because the truth had finally landed—sharp and heavy.
Someone had sold Tony out.
And whoever did it…
Had tried to bury him in the desert.
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