Marvel : The God Of Punishment System

Jason had zero intention of getting suckered into running off to France. But when the reports kept flooding in—buildings collapsing, civilians fleeing in terror—and then she showed up.

Natasha. Black Widow herself.

The surveillance feeds painted a terrifying picture: The assassin everyone knew had transformed into something else entirely. Her body crackled with power, black hair flowing in a ponytail that whipped like flames. Those sky-high heels clicked against rubble as she strode through destruction. In her grasp, a massive hammer—radiated raw, godlike power.

"Jesus Christ on a stick," Jason muttered, watching her tier another city block with casual swings. Her face remained emotionless, carved from ice and murderous intent.

President Mascron's face filled the screen next, sweating bullets. "Jason! The Eiffel Tower's going to collapse! If you don't come NOW, Paris will be a crater! I'm begging you—the Avengers are our only hope!"

A smirk played across Jason's face. "Oh, I see what's happening here." The trap was so obvious it was insulting. Draw the Avengers to Paris while the real shit goes down at the trench. Amateur hour.

But two could play that game.

"Alright, team," Jason announced, grinning like a shark. "All of you—go save Paris. Show those Frenchies what heroes do." As his people scrambled for the Blackbird, Jason made a different calculation.

While they played distraction, he'd be exactly where the enemy didn't expect him.

The Thunder Armor materialized with a thought, six Arc Reactors humming as the nanites assembled around his form. Pure vibranium and adamantium construction wrapped him in nearly indestructible might. The propulsion systems could push him to Mach 8, touching the edge of the atmosphere.

"Let's see who's really pulling the strings," he growled, exploding skyward in a sonic boom that rattled windows for miles.

The Pacific Ocean stretched endlessly below as Jason tore through the upper atmosphere, reaching the Mariana Trench in minutes flat. Without hesitation, he dove into the frigid depths, finding that perfect sweet spot a few hundred meters down.

His Domain: Corpse Mountains, Blood Seas —oozed out like ink, forming an expanding sphere of darkness beneath the waves. Above, the sun blazed at its peak, charging his power to maximum tiers.

"Now we wait," he settled back against the helicarrier's observation deck, sunlight warming his armor as he monitored the void below.

Coulson appeared at his side, tablet in hand. "Sir, we've got a development."

"Spit it out."

"Professor X was tracking Natasha through Paris when she suddenly... vanished. Like someone flipped a switch. One second she's demolishing a café, the next—poof."

Jason sat up straighter. "Teleportation?"

"Looks like it. The Professor tried to grab her mind, but something's blocking him. For just a moment though..." Coulson swallowed hard. "He picked up pure murder in her thoughts. Nothing human left."

A ripple in reality above caught Jason's attention. There—crimson mist coalescing into a humanoid shape. The Red Devil himself, that mutant teleporter who could jump through dimensions. But he wasn't alone.

Natasha materialized beside him on the deck of a Japanese destroyer, her hammer-transformed body radiating menace. She locked eyes with Jason across the distance.

"Well, well," Jason murmured. "Time for the main event."

Before anyone could blink, Jason vanished from the helicarrier—one moment lounging, the next hovering directly above his enemies. Lightning crackled between his fingers as he unleashed a bolt that would make Zeus proud.

The Red Devil screamed as electricity coursed through him, his form disrupting into crimson smoke. But Natasha remained, shielded by the hammer's power.

"Been a while, Agent Romanoff." Jason descended slowly, electricity dancing across his armor. "You know, I finally tracked down your family. Mom, dad, sister—all alive and missing you. Want a reunion?"

Her glowing eyes showed no recognition.

"Oh, and that bastard Dreykov? The one who made you his puppet? Funny thing about that—Nick Fury knew exactly where he was all along. Kept it from you as leverage. How's that make you feel?"

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Jason shrugged. "Well, if you won't come willingly..."

"Now, now, Jason." The voice behind him carried centuries of amusement. "Let's not be hasty."

He spun to find a Japanese naval officer, eyes glazed with possession. The voice that emerged wasn't remotely military.

"Mephisto." Jason should've known. "You sneaky son of a bitch. This whole setup reeks of you."

The devil wearing human skin smiled. "I merely provided... consultation. Nick Fury's hatred of you was quite real, I assure you."

"Yeah, about that." Jason narrowed his eyes. "Fury's last words were about seeing me again. Which got me thinking—did you ferry his soul to Hell yourself? Make him some kind of deal?"

Mephisto's shrug was almost genuine. "Would a man like him bargain with a Lord of Hell?"

"Who the fuck knows? The guy was three paranoid schemes in a trench coat." Jason pulled out Mjolnir, its weight familiar in his grasp. "But I've got a counter-offer. How many souls to get him back? I could use a word."

"Oh, I'm not interested in trading." The possessed officer's smirk widened. "Unless... you'd like to offer up your own soul? Sign a contract, let me have a taste of that delicious darkness inside you?"

Jason snorted. "What, the big bad demon lord can't just take what he wants?"

"You're quite protected, unfortunately." Mephisto gestured dramatically. "But I only need to stall you for moments..."

"Fuck that."

Without warning, Jason swung Mjolnir at Natasha. The possessed Japanese crew swarmed him like zombies, but lightning reduced them to smoking husks in heartbeats. The Red Devil tried to intervene, appearing between Jason and his target.

Even empowered by the hammer, Natasha struggled against Jason's relentless assault. Her weapon lacked the spiritual connection to match his control—if only it had that bond, Jason could've simply called it to his hand.

But physical contact? That he could work with.

Just as his fingers grazed the hammer's shaft, the Red Devil threw himself bodily between them. His eyes... Jason understood immediately. This wasn't heroism.

"Using your own people as shields?" Jason shook his head. "Cold, even for you, Mephi."

The Red Devil radiated dark energy, desperately blocking lightning while charging forward. If Jason couldn't take the hammer from Natasha, he'd remove the obstacle.

"Alright, kamikaze." Hellfire enveloped Jason's fists as he abandoned divine lightning for infernal punishment. "Let's dance."

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Three massive punches sent shockwaves through the destroyer. The Red Devil crumpled unconscious, his possessed form releasing black smoke.

When Jason looked up, Natasha had vanished.

"Typical." He brushed off his armor, turning to the smirking Japanese officer. "So what now? Your pawn retreats, your teleporter's down, and New York's about to get hit harder than France ever could. You really fucked this up, didn't you?"

The officer—still wearing Mephisto's grin—just laughed. "Have you considered that perhaps... everything's proceeding exactly as planned?"

Jason's eyes narrowed as realization dawned. This whole mess wasn't about stopping him at the trench. It was about getting that hammer to New York.

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