Inside Marvel X DC World

Check out my patreon to read 30+ advance chapters and sexy female characters illustrations.

Patreon: patreon.com/NovelReader440

---------

"It's okay." Stephen waved his hand, "It's all in the past."

He recalled, "After running away from home, Carol joined the Air Force despite our opposition. Not long after, she died during a mission. I kept her photo and hung it on the wall as a kind of confession, to remind myself of the mistakes I made when I was young."

Stephen looked at Mike and said in a deep voice, "So, we will never allow Kara, our last child, to be harmed in any way!"

From his tone, it was clear that Kara's adoptive parents loved her deeply. So her refusal to go to school wasn't due to family issues?

Mike thought for a moment and asked directly, "Sir, I want to know why Kara hasn't been coming to school. Is she sick?"

"She's fine, but..." Stephen paused before saying, "Aren't you her classmate? She's in her room upstairs. You can go ask her yourself."

Stephen warned, "But remember, don't mention anything about Superman!"

Mike climbed to the second floor of the wooden house alone. He glanced at Kara's adoptive parents, who were sitting silently downstairs, and felt a bit awkward.

So, are parents nowadays so carefree?

Even if he was Kara's classmate, how could they let him, a teenage boy, go into their 15-year-old daughter's room just like that?

What if he had bad intentions?

Not that he did.

"Cough." Mike cleared his throat, knocked on the door, and called, "Kara, are you in there?"

There was no response.

He knocked a few more times and decided, "If you don't say anything, I'll just open the door and come in."

Still no answer.

The door wasn't locked, so Mike opened it and stepped inside.

The room was quiet and cozy, but dim. The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out all sunlight.

Mike walked in and accidentally stepped on something soft. When he picked it up, he realized it was a pair of sky-blue clothes made of thin, delicate fabric.

His hands shook, and the clothes flew out of his grip.

"Phew." Lucky no one saw that.

He glanced toward the bed, where a bulge under the covers clearly marked where Kara was. She had buried herself under the quilt completely, hiding even her face.

"Kara, you're in there, right?" Mike asked as he moved closer to the bed.

"Senior, why are you here?" Kara's muffled voice finally came from beneath the quilt.

"You've been on leave since Christmas and haven't been to school. So—"

Before he could finish, Kara interrupted, "Are you concerned about me?"

"Of course." Mike replied firmly, "Aren't we friends?"

The bulge under the quilt trembled slightly.

Then Kara's voice emerged, soft and distressed, "Senior, I don't know what to do. I feel so useless. I can't help or protect him at all!"

Mike instantly connected the dots.

Kara's father had warned him not to mention Superman.

Clearly, Kara was a huge fan of Superman!

Mike hesitated, then said, "Do you know what Superman was thinking about when he was dying?"

Kara was silent for a moment before asking, "What?"

"He must have been wishing for others to share his burden. If there were more like him—second, third Supermen—he wouldn't have to shoulder the world's safety alone. He could have lived a normal life."

"But no one can do better than him." Kara whispered.

"Exactly. But that's why we have to try. We must work hard to become the kind of Superman he envisioned. If we do, he could finally rest easy, like an ordinary person."

Mike wasn't sure if his words were comforting. He wasn't good at this sort of thing.

"Senior, do you think I can become a Superman too?" Kara's voice softened.

Mike sat down on the bed, patted the quilt, and encouraged her, "Of course. As long as you work hard, you'll definitely become the Supergirl he'd be proud of."

There was silence.

Then Kara suddenly burst into laughter, "You're lying! I couldn't even confess my feelings—how could I ever become a Superman?"

Mike blinked, confused, "Wait, what?"

"Mike, are you really not moved by me at all?"

The quilt slipped slightly, revealing Kara sitting on the bed.

Even in the dim light, Mike could see her pale, flawless skin. She wore a small camisole and shorts, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders. One side of the quilt covered her slightly, while the other slipped down, exposing her delicate figure.

Leaning forward, her face close to his, Kara smiled playfully, "That's enough. I already know your answer."

She sat back and continued, "But this isn't the real me. Give me a little more time, and I'll show you my true self. Then, you can decide how you feel."

___

Mike left the Danvers' house, glancing back at the window of Kara's room. Sunlight now poured in, filling it with warmth.

Today, Kara Danvers had regained her vitality, leaving a deep impression on Mike.

___

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.

"Director, you called for me?"

Black Widow entered, clad in her usual black leather suit.

Nick Fury silently placed a photograph on the desk.

Natasha picked it up, her brow furrowing.

"A teenager?"

"His name is Mike Prince." Fury said, "He's the adopted son of Wonder Woman."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Approach him. Find out if he has any extraordinary abilities." Fury instructed.

"And if he does?"

Fury's one eye gleamed, "Then we take him. Before the Justice League does."

___

Somewhere in Washington, a Wealthy Residential Area.

A middle-aged woman in her forties returned to the neighborhood in high heels. Despite wearing sunglasses and sporting fashionable, permed curls, her skin and figure bore the marks of age and experience.

"Old lady up front, move it!" A young white boy called out rudely from a distance.

The boy was decked out in high-end designer clothes from head to toe and held a black adult pit bull on a leash. The dog's muscular frame and sharp fangs were intimidating. Clearly used to getting his way, the boy walked arrogantly, forcing pedestrians to scatter as the menacing dog strutted beside him.

The woman in the leopard-print coat didn't flinch and continued walking calmly down the aisle.

"Tebi, bark at her!" The boy commanded angrily, irritated by her lack of reaction.

At his words, the pit bull's eyes flashed with ferocity, and it prepared to lunge and bark.

But then something unexpected happened.

The once-aggressive pit bull froze, tucked its tail tightly between its legs, and crouched low. It whimpered softly, and a puddle of urine spread beneath it.

It was so terrified it had wet itself!

As the woman approached, the dog scrambled to its feet and bolted, dragging the boy—still clutching the leash—away with it.

The boy's screams and the dog's panicked whimpers echoed through the neighborhood.

The woman never broke her stride, her expression indifferent. She entered a private villa at the edge of the community, closed the door behind her, and removed her high heels with a graceful motion.

Her walk was strange yet elegant, reminiscent of a stalking cat. Sunglasses, coat, and trousers were dropped casually to the floor as she entered the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror revealed the guise of a wrinkled, middle-aged woman.

Barbara Minerva examined herself briefly before gripping the edge of her face and tearing it away like a mask. Beneath the fake, aged skin was a youthful, striking face.

But she wasn't done.

She continued peeling off the disguise, revealing a slender, athletic frame that radiated grace and power. In mere moments, Barbara had shed the appearance of an unassuming older woman to reveal the body and face of a supermodel in her prime.

Her expression was blank as she turned on the shower, letting steaming water cascade over her.

The bathroom filled with mist, and a small corkboard on the wall came into view. Two photographs were pinned to it.

One was an image of Wonder Woman taken during World War I.

The other depicted a handsome high school boy, dressed casually.

Barbara's lips curled into a predatory smirk. She plucked the second photo from the board, her crimson tongue flicking across its surface like a serpent tasting prey. Sharp fangs glinted briefly in her mouth as her claws shredded the photo into tiny fragments.

Later That Evening.

At around 8 p.m., Mike returned home. He opened the door to find the living room spotless, the furniture polished to perfection under the soft glow of the lights.

On the sofa, a mature, black-haired woman sat with her long legs crossed, engrossed in a law book. Nearby, a red-haired girl lay curled up on a smaller sofa, fast asleep. She clutched a rag in one hand and cradled a dozing orange cat with the other.

At first glance, they resembled a mother and daughter.

The sight warmed Mike's heart, "Is there anything better than this?"

Diana put down her book, rose gracefully, and walked toward him. She retrieved slippers from the shoe cabinet and placed them at his feet, "I told Wanda to go to bed, but she insisted on waiting for you. In the end, she teased Kerry for a while and fell asleep on the sofa."

"She must be exhausted. A lot happened recently." Mike said with a soft smile. He understood his aunt's intentions better now. By keeping Wanda close, Diana was helping her heal while offering her a sense of security and family.

"Thank you, Aunt." Mike said sincerely, looking at her with gratitude.

Diana returned his smile, "We're family."