Superman in Marvel: Multiverse Ascendant

"Superman? Who is that?" Nick Fury's eye narrowed as he examined the satellite feed. Then, confusion set in.

"Chief, Superman is a superhero from DC Comics. He has super strength, super speed—"

"Wait, you're telling me this is some comic book character? One of those guys who wears pajamas, hides his face, and saves the world?"

"Technically, Superman doesn't wear a mask, Chief. He has a biological force field that prevents people from remembering or photographing his appearance." Coulson listed off the facts like a true enthusiast.

Fury studied the satellite images carefully. "It's true... the facial details can't be captured. You seem oddly familiar with him."

"I'm a fan of Superman, and, of course, Captain America!" Coulson admitted, a little too excitedly.

"Then tell me, how do you think we should deal with this 'Superman'?" Fury leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "It seems like he doesn't want his identity revealed."

"If we go by the comics, he stands for justice, stops violent crime, and protects the innocent. We might be able to make contact with him."

"That's a comic book, Coulson. This guy in real life? He's an imitator, and what he's doing is violent."

"Well... that's true. The Superman in the comics doesn't kill. He has a no-kill rule. Kind of like Captain America—"

"Enough with the comics!" Fury rapped his knuckles against the desk. "Take Barton and head to Afghanistan. I want intel on this guy."

"Understood, Chief!" Coulson gathered his files and strode out, already on his next assignment.

As he reached the door, Fury called after him, "And get me a set of Superman comics."

At the same time, the U.S. military was having its own crisis.

The command center was in chaos.

Colonel James Rhodes, head of the Weapons Development Department, was the first to step forward. "That's not a drone, not a prototype, and definitely not a humanoid weapon. That's a person."

A missile division major stood up. "If our Jericho missiles can't take him down, we'll have to consider nuclear options."

A naval officer countered, "We can't engage an airborne target like that."

An Air Force lieutenant colonel added, "He's too fast and too small. Even our best heat-seeking missiles would struggle to lock on."

After a tense silence, General Ross made the call: "Monitor him. If he doesn't show hostility, attempt contact. But if we get the chance... we'll bring him in. A super soldier like that belongs to the U.S. military."

"Dismissed! Prepare for engagement if necessary!"

While classified government agencies scrambled, life was far more relaxed on the West Coast.

At the Stark Mansion in Malibu, the morning sun cast a warm glow across the sleek architecture—until Tony Stark was rudely jolted awake.

A blaring suona tune filled the room, courtesy of Jarvis.

"God!! Jarvis, what the hell?!" Tony groaned, tumbling out of bed in sheer panic.

The lively, almost comically dramatic Chinese instrument blared on, making his pulse race like a cavalry charge.

"Sir, Master Leon instructed me to wake you and play this video for you."

A holographic projection flickered on, displaying footage captured by Leon's phone.

Onscreen, a battlefield erupted—gunfire, explosions, missiles, all unleashed in relentless waves. Jericho missiles streaked through the sky, only to detonate midair before reaching their target.

Tony stared, stunned.

"What is this? Some action flick Leon threw together overnight? Where is he?"

"Master Leon is currently in Afghanistan, dismantling the Ten Rings." Jarvis' voice remained steady. "This footage was captured live, ten minutes ago."

Tony bolted upright. "He's in the Middle East?! Since when?! It's only—" He glanced at the clock. "Oh. Ten AM."

He rubbed his face, trying to process. "That bastard ran off alone. And why send me this video?"

"He requests that you carefully observe the weapons used in this footage, sir."

Tony replayed the video. His expression darkened with each passing second.

"These are all Stark weapons. And... why the hell is a Jericho missile at a terrorist base?!"

His face hardened, but his clenched jaw betrayed his turmoil.

"I only sold these to the military. So how did the Ten Rings get them? The Pentagon? Or... Obadiah?"

"Sir, only one batch of Jericho missiles has been manufactured thus far—the batch you sold." Jarvis confirmed.

Tony sat in silence. Then, without a word, he stood, threw on a shirt, and walked out.

"Jarvis, prep Leon's armor. We're going to Afghanistan."

"Understood, sir. Also... do you believe you'll be able to sleep tonight?"

Tony frowned. "Why?"

"Master Leon requested that I ask and report your response."

Tony hesitated. Then, exhaling sharply through his nose, he muttered, "Tell him that if I can't sleep, neither will he."

With that, he suited up in the Mark III and launched into the sky, followed closely by the AI-controlled Super Mark I—Leon's personal suit.

While dawn broke over Los Angeles, night fell upon Afghanistan.

Gunfire and explosions illuminated the desert, creating a grim light show of destruction.

From above, it resembled a trail of flickering candles—each one snuffed out moments after igniting.

"Time check, Jarvis." Leon hovered over the smoldering remains of the last Ten Rings base, surveying his handiwork.

"Local time: 11:08 PM."

"Hmm... eight minutes longer than planned."

Every time he saw the Ten Rings launch a missile, he couldn't help himself.

He waited. Waited until the projectile was mid-flight.

Then blew it up—right in front of them.

Even the most fanatical terrorists could feel despair when their last hope exploded before their eyes.

Killing wasn't enough. Breaking their will was the real victory.

Leon smirked. Maybe he was overdoing it.

But damn, it was fun.

Especially when he looked down at their trembling, wide-eyed expressions and said, "Is that all? How disappointing."

It was just a little extra time wasted.

"Once I'm done cleaning up the Ten Rings, my next target is the U.S. military bases."

"Master Leon, what's your plan?" Jarvis inquired.

"Show them what real power looks like and wipe out their weapon stockpiles. The higher-ups make the decisions, but most soldiers just follow orders. Some of them probably don't even want this war."

"Your judgment has always been wise. On that note—Mr. Stark has entered Afghan airspace. He's attempting to contact you. Do you wish to respond?"

...

Author's Note ✍️:

From now on, I'll post 1 extra chapter 📖 for every 500 power stones 💎!

...

✅ Check out my Patreon for +20 extra chapters on all my fanfics! ​🎉

🔗 [[email protected]/LordMerlin]

🙏 Thank you for your support! ❤️