Marvel : The God Of Punishment System

Stark guided the team through Antarctica's brutal landscape, their boots crunching against compacted snow as howling winds tried to tear them apart. Ice crystals pelted their faces like tiny needles, but no one complained—they'd seen worse.

"There," Stark pointed ahead through his HUD display. "Base of that hill. That's where Red Skull's precious 'gift from the gods' crashed down after his creepy Nazi ritual."

The structure materialized out of the blizzard—a camouflaged bunker built into the hillside. But what caught everyone's attention was the massive steel door, hanging open like a broken jaw.

"Well, shit," Wolverine growled. "Somebody beat us to the party."

Stark slowly advanced with Thor at his side, their footsteps echoing in the tomb-like silence. Loki trailed behind, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"This place gives me the creeps," Logan muttered, his claws sliding out with metallic snaps. "And I've seen some creepy places."

Inside, decades of dust coated abandoned equipment like a gray shroud. But through the haze, fresh footprints tracked through the grime—multiple sets, heading deeper into the facility.

They followed the trail through twisting corridors until they reached the heart of the base: a massive circular chamber. Rusted research equipment and broken monitors lined the walls. And in the center—a deep pit, perfectly empty except for an indented outline in the concrete.

"Aw, fuck," Stark sighed, hovering his suit above the pit. "We missed the graduation party."

"What the hell was down there?" Logan asked, sniffing the air suspiciously.

Thor's face darkened with ancient knowledge. "A weapon of the gods. Forged in the fires of creation."

"World-ending type weapon?"

"The key to unlocking world-ending power," Thor corrected grimly.

Suddenly, Logan's enhanced senses screamed danger. "Everyone move! Something's—"

BOOOOM!

The world exploded in heat and fury. Shockwaves blasted through the ancient structure as someone's planted charges detonated in a terrible symphony. Steel beams groaned and twisted. Concrete rained from above.

In the chaos, Stark's armor transformed into a support pillar, its jets screaming as it fought against collapsing tons of rubble and ice. A protective bubble formed around the team as the mountain's wrath entombed them.

When the dust settled, they found themselves in a cramped pocket of survival, Thor's hammer-less hand glowing with residual power that had helped shield them.

"Well, ain't this just peachy," Logan spat out a mouthful of dust. "Stuck underground like a bunch of moles while the world gets ready to end."

"Our communication systems are fried," Stark reported, tapping his damaged suit. "We're completely cut off."

Thor paced the small space, anxiety radiating from him. "We've got to move. Now! If the enemy retrieved the hammer, they'll race for the Mariana Trench. Jörmungandr must not awaken!"

Stark rounded on Loki with desperate hope. "You're supposedly some hotshot wizard. Teleport us out of here!"

Loki's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I... don't waste my talents on simple transportation spells. I'm a master of illusions, the most complex—"

"Ha!" Logan's bark of laughter cut through the pretension. "So you can make pretty pictures but can't get us out of a hole? Pathetic."

"How dare you—" Loki started, but shut up when he saw everyone's unimpressed faces.

Stark turned to Thor. "You're a god from space with a fancy new spear. Can't you zap us out or something?"

Thor sighed heavily, looking at his weapon like it was a misbehaving child. "If I still had Mjolnir, this would be simple. But this spear..." He gestured helplessly. "It doesn't fully trust me yet. I'm still learning its quirks."

"Wait, wait," Logan rubbed his temples. "Did you just say your weapon doesn't like you? How the fuck does a weapon not like its user?"

"You wouldn't understand the nuances of divine weaponry," Thor responded stiffly.

"Actually," Logan grinned wickedly, "I totally get why a weapon wouldn't like you. You're kinda annoying."

Thor opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, seemingly finding no good comeback.

"Jesus Christ," Stark groaned. "I'm trapped underground with a guy who can't teleport, a god whose weapon has self-esteem issues, and Wolverine's terrible jokes. My life insurance better cover 'death by incompetence.'"

Logan cracked his knuckles, his claws gleaming in the dim light. "Since you prima donnas can't do shit, time for some old-fashioned problem-solving."

SNIKT!

Three adamantium claws extended to their full, terrifying length.

"Stark, fire up those sensors. Show me the fastest route through this mess. We're digging out the hard way!"

At the Avengers compound, Jason watched multiple screens go dark simultaneously. His coffee mug froze halfway to his lips.

"What the hell? Did we just lose the team?"

Techs scrambled over keyboards, bringing up satellite feeds. After tense minutes of analysis, they had an answer.

"Sir, explosive charges triggered a controlled avalanche. The team's buried but alive—we're picking up life signs through thermal imaging."

"They've got comms?"

"Negative. Too much interference from ice and rock."

Jason drummed his fingers on the desk, calculating options. His extraction team was already deployed to the Mariana Trench—he couldn't pull them back now.

"You know what? Let them dig out themselves," he decided finally. "Might actually be better if Thor's stuck playing snow angel for a while. Keeps him away from the real party."

Turning to his coordination team, he barked, "All assets to the trench. If we can intercept Natasha's crew before they pull anything stupid, maybe we can avoid this whole serpent situation entirely."

In Kamar-Taj's ancient halls, reality warped as the Rainbow Bridge deposited Odin before the sanctum's gates. The Ancient One appeared instantly, her bald head gleaming in mystical light as she bowed slightly.

"God-King," she greeted formally. "An unexpected pleasure."

They settled on floor cushions in her study, steaming tea materializing between them as if by magic—which, knowing the Ancient One, it absolutely was.

Odin got straight to business. "I need to know about Jason's character. Can he fulfill our bargain?"

The Ancient One's serene smile didn't waver. "Why seek my counsel on this matter?"

"Because Asgard and Midgard share intertwined fates," Odin rumbled. "When my realm suffers, yours follows. As Earth's guardian, shouldn't you be concerned?"

"Hmm?" She sipped her tea slowly. "Everyone walks their destined path. Nations rise and fall. Planets live and die. The universe turns regardless."

"Philosophical bullshit," Odin snorted. "You've protected your little magic school for centuries. Going to watch it burn down now?"

The Ancient One's eyes seemed to look through him, beyond him, into places mortals couldn't perceive. "Birth and death, creation and destruction—these concepts mean little to one who can touch time itself."

"Then why guard this realm at all?" Odin challenged. "Why not let the dimensional demons have their way with Earth?"

"There's a difference between accepting death and welcoming it unnecessarily," she chided gently. "When my successor is ready—when my time truly ends—then Earth's fate will rest in younger hands."

"Have you lost your humanity, after all these centuries battling monsters?"

"Perhaps," she admitted calmly. "One cannot protect against infinite horrors while clinging to mortal emotions."

Odin studied her carefully. "You refuse to aid us, then?"

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, she spoke:

"This universe's fate has already diverged from the path you fear. Thor's destiny—all our destinies—have shifted. Return to Asgard, Odin. Watch how this new story unfolds."

Dismissed and frustrated, Odin vanished in rainbow light, leaving the Ancient One alone with her tea and secrets.

Above the Mariana Trench, a massive fleet from multiple nations maintained constant patrol. Naval vessels cut through turbulent waters while submarines prowled the depths, active sonar pinging continuously.

"If anything bigger than a dolphin farts down there, we'll know about it," An Admiral reported to his superior.

High above, the Avengers' commandeered S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier—now painted in Avengers colors and definitely not stolen, thank you very much—surveyed everything from the stratosphere.

Jason's private channel suddenly buzzed with urgency. "Boss, we've got a situation."

"Now what?"

"Paris is under attack. Someone's going apeshit on the Eiffel Tower, trying to collapse it."

Jason's temple throbbed. "One of Natasha's team?"

"Affirmative. Remy LeBeau's signature energy signatures all over the blast radius."

The French President's face appeared on another screen, practically hyperventilating. "Monsieur Jason! The Eiffel Tower! It's going to crush the city! We need immediate—"

"Yeah, yeah, 'immediate assistance,'" Jason cut him off. "Let me guess, there's absolutely no way your own forces can handle one rampaging mutant?"

"We... we need the Avengers!"

Jason rubbed his forehead. "This is such obvious bait it's insulting. Tell you what, how about you do what France does best and surrender? We'll swing by after we finish saving the actual world."

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