Marvel : The God Of Punishment System

Stark's champagne glass nearly slipped from his hand. "Wait, what the fuck? You're telling me Nick Fury's behind this? That one-eyed bastard's supposed to be six feet under!"

Mephisto's grin widened, revealing teeth that seemed to shift between human and something else entirely. "Oh, the man's dead alright. But his plans? They've got more lives than a damn cat."

"And he's working with you?" Stark's disbelief dripped from every word. "The same guy who spent years warning everyone about supernatural threats?"

"Working with me? Ha!" The demon lord chuckled darkly. "More like I gave him some bedtime stories about this world's hidden truths. Ancient gods lounging in their golden palaces while their mistakes rot in eternal prisons..." He swirled his champagne lazily. "Oh, and I might've mentioned where to find the key to said prison."

Mephisto examined his manicured nails with theatrical nonchalance. "I didn't hypnotize or seduce him. Nick Fury made his choice all by himself. Though I did throw in a few party tricks—mind control techniques here, soul-binding contracts there. Standard consulting services, really."

Stark ran a hand through his hair, his arc reactor casting an eerie glow across his suddenly pale face. "Jesus Christ, the guy's completely lost it."

The demon's eyes glittered with amusement as he studied his business partner. To me, he thought privately, the most entertaining creatures are those who've gone mad but don't realize it. Fury's insane... but what about you, Stark?

Stark's businesslike facade cracked. "Alright, hypothetically speaking—what happens when this monster snake wakes up?"

"Do you actually care?" Mephisto asked, swirling the last drops of his drink.

"Not really," Stark admitted with a shrug. "Just professional curiosity."

Mephisto's laugh echoed with centuries of malice. "Whether you care doesn't matter. What matters is what we gain from the chaos!"

He strode to the window, Manhattan's glittering skyline reflecting in his eyes. "Jörmungandr—the World Serpent—possesses godlike power that would make your little Iron Man suits look like children's toys. Sure, thousands of years in prison have left him a bit... deteriorated, but he's still terrifying as fuck."

The demon's voice dropped to an excited whisper. "Here's the beautiful part: he feeds on fear itself. Every scream, every tremor of terror makes him stronger. And humans?" He laughed. "You lot are fear's finest chefs."

"So he'll just keep getting more powerful," Stark concluded grimly.

"Exponentially!" Mephisto clapped gleefully. "Your precious Avengers? They're appetizers. If they want to stop him, they'll need to pay with their lives. And that's exactly what I'm counting on."

Stark pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, for a ancient demon lord, you're surprisingly roundabout. Why not just kill Jason directly? All these schemes and plots... sometimes the simple approach works best."

Mephisto's expression froze, his cheeks coloring slightly. You think I haven't tried brute force, you arrogant mortal? His limitations in the mortal realm still stung his pride. "This is Earth, not my domain in Hell. Do you have any idea how many of my colleagues can't even manifest here? My 'tricks' are what keep me in the game."

He recovered quickly, waving dismissively. "Besides, don't overestimate your 'friend.' Powerful as he is, how can he possibly match a creature forged in primordial chaos? Just wait and watch him crumble."

Suddenly, Stark's sensors picked up an approaching energy signature. "Shit! Someone's incoming!" He spun around. "Meph, you better—"

But the demon had already vanished, leaving only the faint scent of sulfur and expensive cologne.

Thor burst through the air, holding a struggling Loki in one arm while brandishing his new spear in the other. They crashed onto the balcony with zero grace, startling several pigeons.

"Ho there, Man of Iron!" Thor boomed, spotting Stark through the windows. "Are you the 'crucial ally' Jason mentioned? The one who'll aid us in our noble quest?"

Stark stared at the godly duo currently manhandling his patio furniture. "Oh, for fuck's sake..."

While Stark dealt with his divine visitors, Jason was already mobilizing multiple fronts in his investigation. He'd activated Agent Hill, who was currently executing a hostile takeover of another S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.

His phone buzzed with her encrypted report. Good news: she'd uncovered records of Red Skull's ritual sacrifice decades ago. Bad news: Fury had dispatched a secret team recently, clearly connected to this mess.

"Who's on this team?" Jason demanded.

"Remy LeBeau—that Cajun mutant who calls himself Gambit. Raven Darkhölme, the shapeshifter. And Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow herself."

Jason's jaw clenched. "That sneaky bastard. Even dead, he's still playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers."

Pierce came through next with Hydra's findings. Red Skull had once mounted a massive expedition to Antarctica, shipping construction materials and a small army. The paper trail went cold after that, suggesting a permanent installation.

"Can't pinpoint the exact location?" Jason pressed.

"Antarctica's huge, and back then they didn't exactly use GPS. But we know enough to narrow it down."

"Good enough. I'll handle the rest."

By the time Jason returned to base, Stark and the Asgardian brothers had formed an unlikely trio. Thor was enthusiastically explaining Norse mythology to Stark, who was clearly regretting every life choice that led to this moment. Loki, meanwhile, examined his reflection in a mirror, probably practicing his best "I could stab you but I won't" smile.

"Gentlemen!" Jason announced, commanding their attention. "Crisis time: the world's ending—again. And Tony, buddy, we're all counting on you."

Stark blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, what now? 'Counting on me'? Did you hit your head?"

Jason shrugged with exaggerated casualness. "I've tracked down our doomsday threat. They've got a secret base somewhere in Antarctica. I need you to write a program that'll scan every inch of that frozen wasteland within the next 24 hours."

"Excuse me?" Stark's eyebrows shot up. "You're the Avengers. Can't one of your little tech geeks handle basic coding?"

"Sure, Banner or I could fumble through it," Jason admitted with a smirk. "But you're literally the fastest programmer on the planet. Why would I want second-best when the world's at stake?"

Thor nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! The mortal's logic is sound! You are renowned throughout the Nine Realms for your technical prowess!"

"Thanks, Point Break," Stark muttered.

"Unless..." Jason let his voice drip with fake concern. "You're saying no to saving the world? The famous Tony Stark, Iron Man, philanthropist extraordinaire... turning down his chance to be humanity's savior?"

Stark glared at him, recognizing the manipulation but unable to resist the bait. "Fine! I'll write your damn program. But you owe me."

"Deal. Now get coding while I make some calls."

In his private office, Jason dialed a number few people had. The call connected on the first ring.

"Mr. President," Jason said gravely. "We've got another 'oh shit' moment coming at us."

"Jesus, Jason, what is it this time? Another alien invasion? Robots achieving consciousness? My approval ratings can't handle another NYC catastrophe."

"Worse. Remember your Norse mythology? Odin, the dad with the eyepatch and anger management issues? Turns out he stuffed his psycho brother—a giant snake named Jörmungandr—into the Mariana Trench centuries ago."

Freeman's exasperated sigh crackled through the speaker. "Please tell me we're not about to deal with a goddamn sea monster."

"Bingo. This thing feeds on fear. The more people panic, the stronger it gets. So here's what I need: you've got to convince every world leader to shut down the internet once this thing surfaces."

"Shut down the... You're asking me to tell China, Russia, and everyone else to go dark simultaneously? Do you know the economic—"

"Do you want economics or existence?" Jason interrupted. "Look, most people won't actually see this monster. They'll see it on Twitter, on news feeds, on Facebook. Terror spreads faster through social media than any virus. Cut the connection, cut his power source."

A pause. "And how exactly do I sell this to world leaders?"

"Tell them their options are: global internet blackout, or global apocalypse. While they're processing that, explain they need boots on the ground—police, military, community leaders—assuring everyone that help is coming. The goal is making people feel safe, not scared."

"You're asking for martial law without calling it martial law."

"I'm asking you to save the fucking world, Barry. Oh, and one more thing—New York's probably ground zero. Again." Jason paused dramatically. "Might be a great photo op for the history books. 'President Who Saved Humanity.'"

Freeman was quiet for several seconds. "Why is it always New York?"

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