Marvel : The God Of Punishment System

The Wakandan fighters hadn't even reached optimal altitude when brilliant flashes erupted beneath their wings.

General Ross stood transfixed on the command deck as a sphere of impossible blue energy blossomed from the Bush's bow. This wasn't any weapon color he'd encountered in his three decades of military service - not the yellow-white of conventional explosives, not the orange of incendiaries, not even the eerie green of experimental ordinance.

But mere seconds later, Ross felt the world shift beneath his feet as the aircraft carrier began a sickening tilt.

Across the fleet, sailors and officers witnessed a scene that would haunt their nightmares. The azure flames danced across their vessels, and when the ethereal fire faded, three carriers bore wounds that defied military engineering principles.

The USS George H.W. Bush's bow wasn't just damaged - it was gone, vanished without even twisted wreckage left behind. A full quarter of the supercarrier had been surgically removed as if by some cosmic scalpel. The Nimitz presented an even more disturbing sight: its starboard side revealed a clean vertical cross-section, exposing multiple decks like an anatomical diagram. Internal bulkheads, crew quarters, machinery spaces - all laid bare to the open air.

The Washington, however, suffered the most critical hit. Its entire command island had been erased, leaving a smooth plateau where steel structures had stood moments before.

The impossibility of it all pressed down like physical weight. These were machines of war designed to withstand concentrated enemy strikes, vessels that could take punishment from missiles and return to port. Yet here they were, mortally wounded by weapons none had even theoretical countermeasures for.

Before the stunned defenders could fully process this catastrophe, surviving Wakandan aircraft - nearly a dozen despite the concentrated point-defense fire - executed intricate aerial maneuvers that seemed to mock the laws of physics. Even as surface-to-air missiles found targets and aircraft exploded in mid-air, those final moments served a purpose. The dying pilots triggered their remaining payload with grim determination.

"Boom! Boom!"

More ships died in brilliant azure fury. Supply vessels that had supported three carrier groups, destroyers that represented cutting-edge American naval technology - all consumed by Wakanda's unknown arms. The explosions continued for what felt like hours but lasted mere minutes, each blast taking pieces of American naval might with it.

When the devastation finally ceased, only a single attacking craft remained among the smoke and flames: a distinctively modified fighter bearing the elaborate geometric patterns of Wakandan royalty. King T'Chaka's reserve command aircraft, now piloted by his vengeful son.

Even at this desperate juncture, T'Challa refused any thought of retreat. His every thought burned with a singular purpose: make them pay.

With missile racks empty, he switched to conventional armaments. When cannon rounds spent themselves against hardened hulls, he executed something no American pilot had even conceived - diving his aircraft toward the wave-tops, utilizing the vibranium-reinforced wings as improvised battering rams to pierce a frigate's armor belt. Metal screamed against metal as he ripped through the ship's hull before pulling up at impossible g-forces.

Rhodes finally arrived leading reinforcement squadrons, but they faced a horrifying reality - with the three carriers listing heavily and taking on thousands of tons of water, no recovery platform remained. They would have to make for shore bases or risk fuel exhaustion over the Atlantic.

T'Challa spotted the incoming American fighters and responded with immediate aggression, his damaged craft climbing nearly vertical into their formation. Tracer fire created a deadly light show as multi-caliber rounds crisscrossed his flight path. The prince proved uncanny, almost prescient in his evasive maneuvers, aircraft dancing through explosions that should have torn metal and pilot apart. His forward canopy now resembled a spider's web of fractures, yet fear never entered his calculations.

...

In the sterile confines of the White House medical wing, President Darius Freeman's eyes fluttered open for the third time. Emergency protocols had stabilized him after his initial collapse, but consciousness brought no relief.

His fingers gripped the newly appointed vice president hand with surprising strength for someone so recently on the edge. The IV lines and monitoring equipment couldn't hide the pallor of his skin or the tremor in his voice.

"I had the most terrible nightmare," he mumbled, his words slurring slightly from medications. "In it, we lost three aircraft carriers, dozens of our finest warships, thousands of our sailors and Marines. Our global position, our power... it all crumbled in a matter of hours. It felt so real, so terrifying..."

Evelyn's expression stopped his rambling cold. Her eyes held no comfort, no reassurance. Instead, she squeezed his hand tightly and delivered words that shattered what remained of his presidential composure. "Darius, you need to hold on, don't you dare die on me. What you described wasn't a nightmare - it was the Pentagon's latest casualty report. I absolutely refuse to inherit the presidency under these circumstances. I am NOT cleaning up your mess!"

The impact of her words struck him physically. A sharp pain bloomed in his chest as reality overwhelmed him. As consciousness began to slip away once more, he managed to gasp out, "Quick, call New York... bring the Avengers... our last hope..."

...

Three thousand miles away, Jason received the news with genuine shock. His usual confidence wavered as he absorbed the scale of destruction.

His strategic thinking had anticipated escalation, yes. Perhaps a series of probing attacks and counter-attacks, diplomatic feints alongside military maneuvers, the kind of measured response seen in proxy conflicts throughout modern history. Two powers testing each other's resolve through careful moves and counter-moves, building toward either negotiation or more serious confrontation.

But this? This was beyond anything in his playbook!

You call this proportional response? Did they just throw the entire strategic doctrine out the window?

When Freeman regained consciousness again, Jason couldn't help admiring the man's restraint. In the president's position, with military advisors screaming for nuclear retaliation, many leaders would have already reduced Wakanda to radioactive glass.

The president had indeed considered the nuclear option. With General Ross - the ambitious officer whose promotion to five-star general hinged on victory and whose fall would leave him the perfect scapegoat - already among the casualties, nuclear strikes became a tempting political solution. Yet with thousands of American ground troops still operating within Wakanda's borders, such action would effectively murder his own people.

The domestic political fallout alone would have been career-ending. Previous unrest, temporarily quelled by military action against a new enemy, would explode into outright rebellion. The anti-war movements, civil rights activists, everyone who'd ever criticized American foreign policy would unite in condemning the man who chose to nuke his own troops.

"Jason, you have to help me. Without your intervention, I'll go down in history as the president who lost American naval supremacy. The leader who let our empire fall within my term!"

Jason's eyes rolled toward the heavens. "Listen, Mr. President, when it comes to catastrophic decisions in American history, you're not even in the running for biggest sinner. That dubious honor already has multiple claimants."

President Truman with Little Boy and Fat Man, Nixon with Watergate, whoever advised Washington about that whole cherry tree incident...

"Mr. President, the Avengers proudly upholds a charter of justice and protection for the innocent. We categorically refuse to involve ourselves in unprovoked invasions of sovereign nations. It goes against everything we stand for!"

"Name your terms," Freeman replied without hesitation. "We'll find a way to make this work."

"Sir, I fear you've misunderstood my meaning. I was attempting to explain—"

"The hell with what you want! State your demands clearly! Whatever the price, we'll pay it!"

"Mr. President's desperation makes this difficult for me..." Jason paused dramatically. "Speaking of hell, do you recall those demonic entities that devastated New York City?"

Freeman's brow furrowed. "Of course I remember. The casualty reports alone were staggering!"

"Recently, I've been developing plans to seek retribution on behalf of New York's citizens, to hunt these creatures back to their plane of existence. But proper equipment for interdimensional warfare proves challenging to acquire through conventional channels..."

"Get to the point. What equipment?"

"Tactical nuclear weapons."

Dead silence filled the communication line. Jason could practically hear Freeman recalculating political risk versus necessity.

"Mr. President, you must understand these devices would only ever be deployed in Hell's dimension. Who in their right mind would detonate nuclear weapons on Earth's surface? The fallout alone would be catastrophic!"

The president's jaw worked soundlessly before he managed, "Actually, this works perfectly with our current situation. We've been dragging feet on that nuclear reduction treaty with Russia, citing various bureaucratic hurdles. I can arrange to 'decommission' several warheads through proper channels. Those warheads could then be... diverted to your interdimensional mission."

"Excellent! While we're discussing resource allocation, another matter requires attention. Our operations grow more perilous with each passing mission. The core Avengers team shouldn't be exposed to certain high-risk scenarios. I'm proposing a specialized unit - 'Task Force X' - for suicide missions requiring complete deniability. Could your administration provide appropriate personnel?"

Freeman perked up slightly. "Now that's manageable! I'll select the finest special operations soldiers, Navy SEALs, Delta Force—"

"No need to waste such valuable American assets," Jason interrupted smoothly. "Task Force X expects hundred percent casualty rates. Instead, implement a monthly prison transfer program. Death row inmates, career criminals with violent tendencies, those serving life without parole. The justice system would actually save on decades of incarceration costs. But understand clearly: once these individuals transfer to my custody, they legally cease to exist."

Freeman's eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. "What exactly are you planning for these men?"

Jason maintained eye contact. "Exactly what I stated: revenge against demonic entities. These missions require... absolute commitment. Think of it as their opportunity for redemption, defending Earth against supernatural threats."

After a long pause: "How many do you expect will survive?"

"Truthfully? Very few."

"...Agreed."

Jason's inner satisfaction remained hidden. These "volunteers" had a far different destiny than demon-hunting. His Hulk serum research required extensive human trials. While creating a full army of Hulks might prove impossible with current science, an elite force of Abomination-tier super-soldiers was completely feasible.

His research had progressed beyond theoretical stages. Only one component remained: large-scale experimentation on human subjects. Using condemned criminals not only solved the ethical dilemma but actually seemed merciful compared to execution or life imprisonment.

"Any other requests before we discuss recovery operations?"

"The matter of Wakandan vibranium reserves."

Freeman's diplomatic mask returned. "Naturally. How do you propose dividing this resource?"

"What did you have in mind, Mr. President?"

"Eighty-twenty split seems reasonable."

"Eighty percent to me? Excellent!"

"Wait, I meant you get twenty percent!"

"Only twenty? That's completely unreasonable! My people take all the risks!"

"Fine! Seventy-thirty, with the United States receiving the larger share. Consider how many research laboratories, military contractors, and aerospace companies desperately need this material. Think of the technological leaps—"

"Mr. President," Jason interrupted softly, "do you honestly believe vibranium distribution addresses the loss of three aircraft carriers and countless support vessels? Can metals replace the psychological impact of America losing its untouchable maritime supremacy?"

The rhetorical question struck home. Freeman understood that America's perception as an unassailable superpower had evaporated in a single afternoon. Allies would question protection guarantees. Enemies would sense weakness. Global markets would react to naval losses.

Jason noted the president's visible despair and offered a lifeline. "Of course, you're not thinking America's days as a superpower end today?"

Confusion replaced anguish on Freeman's face.

"The United States still possesses me. Still has the Avengers Alliance. Are we worth less than three aircraft carriers full of conventional sailors and outdated aircraft?"

Jason leaned forward conspiratorially. "Perhaps the significance hasn't fully registered yet - the Avengers have evolved into America's ultimate deterrent, superior to nuclear submarines or stealth bombers."

"Since we function as your final line of defense, why compartmentalize resources? Every dollar invested in strengthening the Avengers protects American interests far more efficiently than traditional military spending!"

"But your organization refuses offensive military operations," Freeman countered. "How does that protect our allies or maintain our influence abroad?"

"Protection means different things," Jason shrugged. "We're your impenetrable shield - doesn't that suffice? When potential enemies know American territory enjoys absolute protection, invasion becomes unthinkable.

"For expeditionary operations, countless private military companies exist. Special operators, intelligence agencies, covert action groups - use whatever tools suit specific missions. But mainland security? That's our specialty, and it should be your primary concern."

Strategic logic clicked into place. First ensure survival, then project power.

"So your proposal?"

"Seventy-thirty split of all vibranium reserves - seventy percent for Avengers development."

Freeman's political instincts flared. "Impossible! The congressional oversight hearings alone would destroy my presidency! Defense contractors, aerospace lobbies, military leadership - they'd crucify me in public hearings!

"Fifty-fifty. Absolutely final offer!"

"Done!" Jason accepted with suspicious speed.

Freeman worried he'd conceded too quickly. Did I open with too much?

But Jason felt satisfied. Even a fifty-percent share of resources from an entire nuclear superpower exceeded his wildest projections. Plus, this established precedent for future negotiations.

By late afternoon, Jason assembled his expanded Avengers team: Professor X Charles Xavier, Piotr "Colossus" Rasputin, Logan Howlett "Wolverine," Ororo "Storm" Munroe, Jean "Phoenix" Grey, Scott "Cyclops" Summers, Frank "Punisher" Castle, and others representing both established heroes and recent recruits.

The X-Men contingent particularly questioned involvement in what they perceived as an unjust war against an African nation simply defending itself.

"Our position remains absolutely neutral," Jason declared, addressing their concerns directly. "We align with neither the US military command nor Wakandan leadership in this conflict.

"Our mission serves threefold purposes: first, to mediate between warring factions and prevent further bloodshed. Second, to ensure humanitarian aid reaches civilians caught in crossfire. Third, and most importantly, to uphold the principles of justice in a situation where civilians suffer regardless of political allegiances."

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