[Marvel : The God Of Punishment] Chapter 36 - 40

Chapter 36: Speed is the Ultimate Advantage

As Dragon Chi doubled his physical capabilities, Jason pushed his Compound Eyes ability to its maximum potential.

Among the six attacking blades converging on him, he instantly identified the optimal escape route and the safest position to evade—a position that simultaneously offered the best opportunity for counterattack.

His arm left a blur of motion as the silver-white dagger carved a perfect arc through the air, aimed directly at Murakami's exposed throat.

The attack came with lightning speed!

Murakami stared at the approaching blade with widening eyes, cold terror washing through him. He roared internally, desperately channeling the ancient power dormant within his body.

At the last possible moment, his form shifted slightly.

Thunk!

The dagger buried itself in his collarbone rather than his throat.

Murakami's howl of pain echoed through the parking garage, momentarily startling the other attackers and causing their coordinated assault to falter.

Kingpin's eyes narrowed with cold calculation. "Speed Demon," he commanded the uniformed man behind him, "your turn. Engage immediately."

The man in the red and blue costume responded with casual disdain. "Tsk, tsk. I thought these losers could handle him without me."

Speed Demon stretched his limbs with theatrical flair, leaning forward into a sprinter's starting position. "Ready, set—here comes your hundred-meter champion!"

Whoosh!

Jason, who had been closing in on the wounded Murakami, caught only a peripheral flash of movement. He had just enough time to drive a savage kick into Murakami's lower back before a fist materialized directly in front of his face.

BOOM!

The impact struck his chest with incredible force, sending him staggering backward three steps.

Disbelief flashed in Jason's eyes. This bastard is unbelievably fast!

According to his system, Jason's speed attribute currently exceeded 100 with Dragon Chi active, yet Speed Demon moved with velocity that surpassed even that enhanced state.

The costumed speedster launched into a relentless series of attacks. Fortunately for Jason, Speed Demon wasn't a master-level fighter—his technique was merely average. This allowed Jason to protect his vital from serious damage, but he couldn't avoid taking hits elsewhere.

Despite his protective uniform absorbing some of the impact, injuries began accumulating across his body. Each blow landed with humiliating effectiveness.

The legendary martial arts master was right, Jason thought grimly. In the world of combat, superior speed trumps all other advantages.

While Dragon Chi could be activated in rapid bursts multiple times in quick succession, it couldn't sustain continuous operation indefinitely.

Need to change the situation—now!

As Speed Demon continued his assault, the other fighters stood back, content to watch. Jason's gaze briefly lingered on two of them before another hit sent him reeling backward. Using the momentum of the blow, Jason spun around and sprinted away.

"Hahahaha!" Kingpin's mocking laughter filled the underground facility. "Hell’s Butcher, this parking garage may be spacious, but do you honestly believe you can escape?"

Jason harbored no illusions about escaping. He knew the exits would be blocked, and outrunning Speed Demon was impossible.

His apparent retreat was merely tactical misdirection.

He made directly for the stairwell entrance. During his initial exploration of the parking garage, he'd found no one present—which meant Kingpin, his gunmen, and the assembled killers must have descended via those stairs. Logic dictated the stairwell was the only viable exit.

Kingpin recognized his intention immediately. "You're more intelligent than I anticipated," he observed with grudging respect. "But what advantage does reaching the upper floors offer you? My people control the entire building."

Jason ignored the taunt as he approached the iron stairwell door. His enhanced vision remained fixed on the entrance. That sonic weapon should still be waiting behind this door.

He hesitated fractionally before opening it.

Observing this momentary pause, Kingpin's lips curled into a satisfied smile.

With Speed Demon closing fast, Jason had limited options. He pushed the door open slightly, immediately spotting the large speaker with its warning light suddenly illuminating.

What no one else noticed was the subtle smile that appeared at the corner of Jason's mouth.

He shoved the door fully open and stepped aside.

Although the concussive wave propagated too rapidly for complete evasion, Jason managed to create sufficient space between himself and the approaching Speed Demon.

The red-and-blue blur charged forward at incredible velocity, then reversed direction equally fast, leaving only a distorted shout in his wake: "F—k!"

After discharging, the sonic weapon entered its recharging cycle. Jason glanced at it briefly but didn't enter the stairwell. Instead, he closed the door and sprinted toward another section of the parking garage.

The maneuver left everyone bewildered. After finally triggering the trap and absorbing a partial hit, why wouldn't he proceed through the opened door?

The confident smile gradually faded from Kingpin's face.

Earlier, when he'd boasted that Hell’s Butcher couldn't escape the parking garage, he'd been implying that all exits were under his control.

Any intelligent person would immediately identify the stairwell—the passage through which Kingpin and his forces had entered—as the logical escape route.

What Kingpin hadn't revealed was that the stairwell itself was also blocked.

Had Hell’s Butcher entered, he would have found himself trapped in a confined space with no options but surrender or death.

Unfortunately, his adversary had proven more perceptive than anticipated.

Still, what difference would it make? Though the parking garage offered temporary concealment, locating him was merely a matter of time.

Kingpin glanced at the few droplets of blood Jason had left near the stairwell entrance. "He appears to be seriously wounded," he informed his team with calm authority. "Find him and bring him to me."

Meanwhile, Jason had taken cover behind a massive concrete pillar.

His communication with David remained severed, his body accumulated injuries, and enemies methodically converged on his position. The situation appeared dire.

Yet his expression displayed remarkably little concern.

Glancing around the pillar, he noticed that Wade—not yet the fully-formed Deadpool—was the nearest pursuer. The mercenary held his twin swords loosely, skipping along while humming a cheerful tune.

"La la la, complete this mission, get my money, have some hope. La la la, half goes to Vanessa, half for medical bills and dope. La la la, my little lungs, they've got to..."

"Wade, I'll pay you twice what Kingpin's offering," Jason interrupted, his voice low and measured.

The mercenary froze mid-step, then turned toward the concrete pillar where Jason concealed himself. After checking that his teammates weren't watching, Wade slipped behind the column as well.

The two men stood in close proximity, separated only by Wade's twin katanas and Jason's daggers.

"I'm a mercenary," Wade stated with exaggerated seriousness. "Professional ethics are paramount in our line of work!"

"Three times the rate," Jason countered.

Wade glanced at his advancing teammates. "There are too many of them."

"Four times."

"Damn~" Wade's resistance visibly crumbled. "You've successfully captured my attention. Can you pay upfront?"

"Haha, I don't trust you that much," Jason replied with a soft laugh.

"How could you not? I'm the most professional mercenary in the business!"

Jason barely resisted rolling his eyes. Would Deadpool actually adhere to professional ethics? I'd sooner believe Captain America works for HYDRA! Though admittedly, this isn't yet the Deadpool we know...

"I have a treatment that can cure your advanced lung cancer," Jason said quietly. "Interested?"

"What? How did you know I—wait, did I sing about that just now?"

Wade frowned in confusion. "No, then how could you possibly..."

"I can also make sure Vanessa is taken care of while you're recovering."

"What the actual hell? Who are you?"

Jason's voice dropped to a mesmerizing whisper. "You've seen what I'm capable of. I'm deadly serious about this offer."

He leaned closer. "Are you willing to die like this? To leave Vanessa alone in this world, eventually finding comfort in another man's arms? Is that what you want?"

Fierce intensity flashed in Wade's eyes. "You'd better not be lying to me. Otherwise, I'll haunt you even after I'm dead!"

Jason solemnly raised three fingers toward the ceiling. "I swear on the name of Iron Man! If I'm lying to you, may I be hit by a missile while sitting in a car, have a giant hole blown through my chest, somehow survive, and then be tortured in a cave!"

Chapter 37: The Double Cross

Wade scrutinized Jason with deep suspicion. Such a specific and elaborate oath seemed strangely sincere.

He studied the man's eyes intently, searching for deception but finding only conviction.

"Even if I switch sides, we're still outnumbered," Wade argued. "Adding just one more fighter to your side won't tip the scales."

Jason responded with a confident smirk. "The most dangerous opponent is Speed Demon. I can neutralize him personally." He lowered his voice further. "Watch for three flashes of light—that's your signal. Until then, pretend you're still hunting me."

Wade took a deep breath. Only he understood the desperation that came after receiving a terminal diagnosis; he'd been like a fish flopping on desert sand, grasping for any chance at survival.

"Fine," he conceded. "You're calling the shots."

"Don't worry," Jason assured him. "I'll honor everything I promised—double pay, cancer treatment, and looking after your girlfriend. For now, distract your teammates and give me some cover."

"Understood."

Wade stepped dramatically away from the pillar, suddenly shouting, "Hey! Who's there? Come out!"

All eyes immediately turned toward him. Jason seized the momentary distraction to reposition himself, slipping closer to another target.

Wade gestured apologetically to the others. "Sorry—my mistake! Just a massive rat. Thought it had mutated and grown hair..."

The others dismissed his antics with knowing looks, accustomed to his erratic behavior.

Jason had intended to ambush Black Widow from behind, but she wasn't a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for nothing. Her situational awareness was extraordinary.

She pivoted smoothly, dropping low to sweep Jason's legs with a graceful series of movements before wrapping her arms around his neck in a textbook chokehold.

Damn it! Jason thought. If my chest weren't already injured, she'd never have caught me this easily.

Feeling the deadly yet undeniably feminine form pressed against his back, Jason briefly entertained inappropriate thoughts before reality reasserted itself. Focus, idiot—she's literally choking you to death!

He grasped Black Widow's forearm and rasped through his constricted airway, "Bucky is still alive!"

"What?" Black Widow faltered momentarily.

Jason mentally cursed. Wrong approach. Let me try again.

"D-Dreykov is still alive!" he managed.

"What?" This time her reaction was unmistakable—her entire body tensed with shock.

If Bucky the Winter Soldier represented a significant chapter in Captain America's tragic history, Dreykov embodied the root of Black Widow's traumatic past. He was fundamental to her origin story.

She vividly remembered eliminating him alongside Hawkeye in Budapest.

"His Red Room still operates," Jason continued desperately. "Your sister Yelena remains under their control!"

Black Widow's momentary hesitation provided the opening Jason needed. He twisted violently, breaking her hold and reversing their positions in one fluid motion. Before she could counter, he clasped his hand over her mouth.

They struggled across the cold concrete floor, bodies intertwined in deadly combat rather than passion. Eventually, Jason managed to secure her.

The exertion sent pain radiating through his injured body. His labored breath washed over Black Widow's neck, causing her to momentarily stiffen.

Detecting the subtle scent emanating from Natasha, Jason forcibly suppressed inappropriate impulses.

"Are your colleagues waiting outside?" he whispered. "Why haven't they intervened? Kingpin is about to win this round."

Black Widow's eyes widened. "Mmmmph?"

"Stay quiet and I'll release you."

"Mmm!"

Jason continued, "Is S.H.I.E.L.D. really collaborating with a criminal mastermind who deals in murder, narcotics, and human trafficking? Have you abandoned all principles?"

He cautiously removed his hand from her mouth.

"This isn't collaboration," she hissed back. "It's strategic exploitation. After we apprehend you, Kingpin won't escape either."

"What crime have I committed that warrants this relentless pursuit?"

"You massacred dozens and released toxins throughout Manhattan!"

"The 'poisoning' was a misunderstanding!" Jason protested. "As for the killings—I eliminate those who deserve elimination. I'm fulfilling the mission that police, FBI, and agents like yourself have neglected! I'm doing your job for you!"

Black Widow began to respond, but Jason tightened his hold. "Work with me. Once we leave here, I'll discuss everything with S.H.I.E.L.D. We can address Dreykov, the Red Room, and your former family in detail."

After a weighted silence, Black Widow relented. "Fine."

Jason hesitated briefly before deciding to trust her. Not because of any misplaced confidence in his charm, but because he recognized the significance Dreykov held in her psyche.

He relaxed his grip and whispered into her ear, "When you see three flashes of light, that's your signal. Until then, I'm your prisoner..."

"I've got him!" she called out.

Everyone converged on Black Widow's position, with Wade deliberately lagging half a step behind the others.

Kingpin's laugh rumbled with satisfaction. "Excellent work, Natalie. I'll consider adding a bonus to your fee."

"Appreciated," she replied coolly, stepping aside.

Kingpin gestured casually, and the elegant woman in black who had remained silent throughout—The Bride of Nine Spiders—flicked her wrist. A slender needle embedded itself in Jason's chest.

He quickly extracted it, noticing the dark blue-black discoloration indicating potent poison. His expression darkened.

With a solid wall behind him and enemies forming a semicircle before him, his situation appeared hopeless. Injured and seemingly cornered, escape seemed impossible.

"Did you anticipate this outcome, Hell’s Butcher?" Kingpin's mouth curled with smug satisfaction. He tapped his cane methodically. "You should never have challenged me—neither at the gallery nor by using my property to distribute your toxins."

Jason rolled his eyes in exasperation. The drug burning incident was genuinely a misunderstanding. Why does everyone insist on misinterpreting it?

I'm a decent young man from a drug-free socialist country—my unfamiliarity with narcotic protocols is perfectly understandable!

I give up trying to explain.

Jason raised his gaze to Kingpin while surreptitiously assessing Speed Demon nearby. The speedster represented the most significant threat on the field.

The costumed villain glared at Jason with obvious hostility. Though his mask obscured his features, his eyes revealed an impatient, volatile temperament.

Jason had already formulated his counter-strategy: electricity. But given Speed Demon's reaction time and velocity, even this approach wasn't guaranteed. He needed the perfect opportunity.

He'd been waiting patiently for this moment—when everyone perceived him at his weakest. Now the opportunity had arrived.

Jason coughed deliberately. "I must admit, the dogs you've hired today are surprisingly competent."

Though his statement was general, his gaze fixed exclusively on Speed Demon, his multi-faceted expression containing four parts sarcasm, three parts mockery, two parts provocation, and one part pure contempt.

Already smarting from being tricked earlier, Speed Demon bristled visibly at the targeted disrespect.

Kingpin noticed Jason's focused antagonism and felt a surge of foreboding. He quickly extended his arm to restrain Speed Demon.

But the mercenary's moniker wasn't hyperbole—his speed was extraordinary.

Kingpin's hand had barely moved a few centimeters when Speed Demon launched himself forward.

He materialized before Jason in an instant, his fist becoming a blur as it rocketed toward Jason's face.

What Speed Demon failed to anticipate was that Jason had stepped forward the moment he finished speaking, arms spread wide as if welcoming an embrace.

This unexpected posture caused everyone to gasp in confusion. Even Kingpin's normally shrewd eyes widened with bewilderment.

"Oh my~" Wade exclaimed with theatrical innuendo.

Though Jason absorbed a solid punch to his already injured chest, the satisfaction of feeling Speed Demon's weight in his arms prompted a triumphant grin.

Got you, you magnificent bastard!

A crackling sound filled the air as brilliant silver-white electrical arcs illuminated the space, temporarily blinding everyone present.

FLASH!

FLASH!

FLASH!

After the third discharge, Speed Demon hung limply in Jason's arms, his body completely incapacitated.

Recognizing the signal, Wade reacted instantly. He drove his blade forward with lethal precision, impaling Sowande through the waist before the man could register the betrayal.

Black Widow moved with equal efficiency, delivering a devastating strike to the back of Echo's head with her weapon's hilt. The woman collapsed unconsciously to the floor.

In mere seconds, the balance of power had completely reversed.

Chapter 38: The Art of Betrayal

Kingpin's expression contorted with rage and disbelief.

His formidable hunting party had disintegrated in moments. Only Elektra and The Bride of Nine Spiders—deadly with poisons but less formidable in direct combat—remained at his side.

Black Widow and Wade had revealed themselves as traitors. Murakami lay incapacitated, a dagger still embedded in his collarbone and his back damaged from Jason's brutal kick. Sowande and Echo were down, ambushed in their moment of confusion. Even Speed Demon—his trump card—lay unconscious at Jason's feet.

Everything had fallen apart.

Jason smiled triumphantly as he tossed aside Speed Demon's limp form. "Allow me to teach you another valuable lesson, Kingpin. Choosing allies is a science."

He stepped forward confidently. "It's not enough to recruit talent—you must also guard against impulsive, reckless teammates. Most importantly..." his smile widened, "...beware of traitors. They'll drive the knife into your back at the critical moment."

"Yeah, he's talking about us!" Wade chimed in, flashing a victory sign with exaggerated pride.

Black Widow rolled her eyes. "To be clear, I'm not a traitor," she clarified. "I'm an undercover agent. Wilson Fisk, you're under arrest."

Kingpin's eyes bulged with fury. He gripped his cane until his knuckles whitened. "Even so," he growled through clenched teeth, "I still intend to kill you—and these two may not be enough to stop me!"

"You sound awfully confident," Jason replied, raising his right hand. Small arcs of electricity danced between his fingers, producing an ominous crackling sound.

It was pure intimidation. His capacity for generating powerful electrical discharges was temporarily exhausted; these were merely residual sparks. But Kingpin couldn't know that.

Or so he thought.

To Jason's surprise, Kingpin studied the display for several seconds before shaking his head dismissively. "My intuition tells me you're approaching your limit."

Damn, this fat bastard is more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

Jason quickly communicated with his system interface. He had earned a Iron-tier gift package during his fight against the first wave of gunmen. He opened it now, allocating the three free attribute points it contained—along with the five points he'd been saving—directly to Constitution.

Instantly, a revitalizing wave flowed through his body.

"Wade," Jason called out, "take Kingpin. Natalie, you handle Elektra. I'll deal with The Bride of Nine Spiders!"

Wade and Black Widow exchanged glances. Wade moved forward obediently while Black Widow reluctantly engaged Elektra.

Jason approached The Bride of Nine Spiders with predatory intent. Fear flickered across her elegant Asian features, partially obscured by elaborate, intimidating makeup. As a subordinate of Madame Gao within the Hand's hierarchy, she was lethal with poisons but significantly less dangerous in direct combat than Jason.

"Shall we begin, little lady?" Jason purred before lunging forward.

Combat erupted across three locations simultaneously. Black Widow and Elektra proved evenly matched, their battle a lethal ballet of precise strikes and acrobatic evasions.

Wade fared worse. Despite his skill with dual blades, he was clearly outmatched by Kingpin's raw power and surprising agility. The crime lord was systematically dismantling the mercenary's defenses.

Most peculiar was Jason's confrontation. Despite the multiple poisoned needles embedded in his chest, he showed no signs of weakness or impairment as he pursued the retreating The Bride of Nine Spiders.

"Stop running," he called out playfully.

As they moved farther from the others, Jason glanced sideways to confirm their isolation. Then his muscles coiled with sudden intensity. His speed increased dramatically, allowing him to close the distance and capture The Bride of Nine Spiders in a single bound.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, genuine terror replacing her usual composure.

Jason's expression hardened. "Why am I not affected by your poison?" he demanded.

He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her neck. "Sweetheart, have you ever seen a vampire that died from poison?"

Before she could process his words, he struck. His teeth pierced her skin with surgical precision.

"Ahhh—" Her eyes widened in shock and pain.

Pierce.

Injection.

When Jason finally released her, The Bride of Nine Spiders collapsed limply to the ground. He wiped a droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Wait here and escape later," he instructed. "Remember to come to my chambers tomorrow at midnight."

The Bride of Nine Spiders responded with unfocused eyes, still dazed from the transformation beginning within her. Though the metamorphosis wasn't yet complete, once she fully became his blood slave, she would remember and obey his commands without question.

Jason returned to the main battlefield to find the situation had evolved. After Wade's failure to contain Kingpin, he had exchanged opponents with Black Widow. She now employed her superior agility against the crime lord, while Wade engaged Elektra in a furious exchange of blades.

"No, Elektra!" Wade protested dramatically between parries. "You're being unnecessarily aggressive! This isn't how our fight should unfold! Let's stop this madness and eliminate our former employer together. I'm certain my new boss will double whatever you're being paid..."

Jason approached the dueling pair. "Elektra," he called out, "are you acquainted with attorney Matthew Murdock? He and I are good friends. Surrender now, and for his sake, I'll spare your life today."

As the words left Jason's mouth, an unexpected movement caught his attention. Not from Elektra, but from Kingpin—his massive frame suddenly demonstrating astonishing speed. The crime lord flung his cane backward, triggering a deafening explosion that filled the area with thick smoke.

By the time Jason regained his bearings, both Elektra and Kingpin had vanished.

"Goddamnit! Where did they go?" he demanded.

Black Widow shook her head. "Escaped. Kingpin had prepared a specialized extraction route."

"Then we should pursue them!"

Wade shrugged. "Boss, I don't trust this woman. You need my personal protection." He positioned himself between Jason and Black Widow with exaggerated vigilance.

Jason regarded Black Widow with resignation. "Do you also feel compelled to become my close personal guardian?"

"To be precise," she replied coolly, "it would be surveillance."

Jason produced a business card and extended it toward her. "The scene that follows isn't suitable for all audiences. Call me tomorrow and we'll arrange a more appropriate venue for a deeper conversation."

Black Widow accepted the card but showed no intention of departing.

Suddenly, an explosive sound echoed through the parking structure, followed by the thunderous roar of an approaching motorcycle.

Blade had arrived.

The motorcycle executed a perfect spin before stopping dramatically before the assembled group. With theatrical flair, Blade unsheathed his sword, the blade gleaming menacingly under the garage lights.

“Who the hell blocked the entrance and laid hands on my guy?” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “You got a death wish? Either of you see what went down?”

Jason rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't you have shown up while I was still in mortal danger? Were you a police officer in a previous life or something?"

Wade glanced from the sword in his own hands to Blade's weapon, his eyes widening with genuine excitement. "Hey, what a coincidence—I'm a sword enthusiast too!"

Black Widow assessed the shifting dynamics and made a strategic decision. "Remember to answer my call, Hell’s... Iron Man." With that final directive, she departed.

Once outside the parking structure, she retrieved a concealed communication device. "Mission abort," she spoke quietly. "Today isn't optimal for an arrest."

After a brief pause, Coulson's voice responded: "I witnessed a motorcycle blast through the security gate. What happened in there, Natasha?"

"I'll brief you on all unexpected developments upon return."

After Black Widow's departure, Jason surveyed their surroundings. The good news was that several of their opponents still clung to life despite their injuries.

Even Sowande, despite Wade's blade penetrating his abdomen, demonstrated remarkable resilience. Having consumed dragon bones for centuries, his will to survive transcended ordinary human limitations.

As members of the Hand who obsessively pursued immortality, both he and Murakami paradoxically harbored the most profound fear of death.

Three silver-level targets and one bronze.

Jason methodically dispatched the three silver-level gang leaders, causing both Wade and Blade to regard him with uncomfortable expressions.

Jason shrugged off their unspoken judgment. What's the big deal? It's just a matter of tying them to the back of a pickup truck and dragging them until they expire. It's not like it's your floor getting dirty.

When the three enemies finally perished almost simultaneously, Jason received a silver gift package with a five-star rating, exactly as anticipated.

A real man opens his rewards immediately!

If the system granted him sufficient power from this package, he'd pursue Kingpin without delay.

Chapter 39: The Birth of Deadpool

[Congratulations on receiving the reward: Flash. The task has been updated and can be viewed]

A wave of information flooded into Jason's mind.

The so-called "Flash" could best be understood as a tactical spell. Within a range of several dozen meters, he could designate any location—even mid-air—and trigger an extremely dazzling burst of light. Like an oversized flash bomb, but magnitudes more powerful!

He could use it as a conventional flash grenade with multiple bursts available throughout the day, or maintain a continuous stream of blinding light for five to ten minutes straight.

This ability was... exceptionally powerful.

Since he himself was immune to the flash effect, he now possessed a formidable control skill. If he had placed just two flashes in front of the speeding Speed Demon earlier, the villain would have been instantly paralyzed by blindness!

However, this ability wasn't particularly useful for pursuing Kingpin. While it might help him catch up initially, with Kingpin's explosive speed, the crime lord might already be three miles away by now.

Let him live for two more days, Jason thought coldly. Next time I find him, I'll put a bullet in his head without any monologuing.

He was driving his pickup truck home, but what irritated him was that Wade in the passenger seat absolutely refused to leave.

The man had immediately declared Jason his godfather, clinging to his legs and insisting on going home with him. Even when Jason, out of desperation, transferred him double his promised salary, it made no difference.

Finally, after extracting countless sworn oaths from Wade and making Vanessa promise not to reveal his identity, Jason reluctantly took him back to the church.

Late that night, after the battle, Jason worked tirelessly to cook several delicious dishes. After he, Wade, and David wolfed down their meal, they sat on the balcony with their beers, gazing out at the brightly lit city.

As for Blade, his mother wouldn't let him come home that late.

Under the cool night breeze, Wade was surprisingly silent. After finishing a bottle of beer, he asked cautiously, "You said you could cure my cancer. Is that true?"

Jason lounged in a rattan chair he'd found in Chinatown, relaxing both physically and mentally. "Of course it's true. There's more than one way."

Wade's face showed a hint of surprise. "Really?"

"But there's only one method I can implement immediately."

"What method?"

"Turn you into a vampire."

Wade was stunned. There had been numerous vampire-related incidents in the news recently. He frowned, considering the option. "I heard vampires have many weaknesses?"

"Yes." Jason leaned forward and explained, "Ordinary mixed-blood vampires are vulnerable to sunlight, ultraviolet rays, garlic, and silver. They need to consume human blood to survive, and their minds gradually corrupt over time, eventually transforming them into manic, bloodthirsty monsters."

Wade took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Fuck, you call that a cure?"

Jason laughed. "Why not? Just tell me whether the cancer would be cured or not, okay? Have you ever seen a vampire die of cancer?"

Wade stood up indignantly. "Are you kidding me?"

"Tsk! Why so impatient? If you don't want to be a vampire, we can try another method."

"Didn't you say you only had one way?"

"There is another option. Although I can't perform it myself, there are people who can. We just need to find them. There's this Russian who runs a laboratory specializing in human mutation experiments. Go there and endure their procedures for a while, and your superpowers will eventually manifest. With superpowers, you become virtually unkillable."

Bullshit! Wade's eyes widened in disbelief. Was this guy for real?

"Aren't you worried I'll die in there?"

"Not at all!" Jason waved dismissively. "You still have a major role to play in life, you can't die! Trust me, as a priest, I would never lie."

I believe you! Wade thought sarcastically. You definitely don't behave like a priest when you're slaughtering people.

Wade rubbed his face in frustration. "Why do I feel like I'm being conned?"

"You have terminal cancer, Wade. If you want to be with Vanessa forever, you'll have to embark on this journey through danger and suffering."

"I'm not going to transform into some freak with three eyes and eight arms, am I?"

"How is that possible? At most..." Jason trailed off.

Wade narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "At most what?"

Jason waved his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. During your trial, I'll find a psychologist to provide Vanessa with emotional support. No matter what you become, she'll accept you."

"Bullshit!" Wade was thoroughly depressed.

Jason continued his persuasion. "Don't worry, at worst you'll face some torture. What's a little drowning, burning, restraints, hot wax, electric shocks, and whipping to a guy like you? Isn't that child's play? Most test subjects suffer there for two to three years, but I'll help speed things up for you! I'll pay them enough to compress your two years of torture into just two months! Once you develop your powers, send me a signal, and Blade and I will storm in to rescue you. Perfect plan, right?"

Wade felt utterly helpless. Two years of torture compressed into two months? Did Jason think he was some indestructible cockroach?

Then he realized another problem. "If you're sending me into this lab, why would you need to 'rescue' me later?"

Jason looked confused. "Huh? Didn't I mention? That place specializes in producing super-powered slaves. If I don't break you out, do you expect me to buy you back?"

Where slaves are produced?

Producing slaves?

Slaves?

Wade glared at Jason, his anger mounting by the second. He suddenly jumped up and shouted, "I'm going to strangle you to death!"

...

Wade left at dawn the next day.

He needed time to contemplate his options.

David began searching for the Russians.

Jason provided him with a few keywords, including the pseudonym "Francis" used by Ajax, and a broker named Smith.

While they were having breakfast, Jason's phone kept ringing.

David quickly checked and discovered it was Black Widow Natasha calling.

This woman is impatient, Jason thought.

He picked up the phone after David briefly processed the signal.

"Hey, it's me."

"..."

"Ah, I missed you too after not seeing you for one night."

"..."

"Okay, okay, I'll do as you say. Bye."

David was listening nearby with a confused expression. Are you meeting an agent or hooking up with a girl?

Jason returned to the table to continue eating. David hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help asking, "Are you coming back tonight? Should I book a hotel for you?"

Jason looked up. "Huh? Why would I need that? I'm meeting an agent, not dating a girl."

David blinked. "Oh, you know that too?"

"It's never too late to make a reservation when you actually need one."

David's eyes widened instantly: What the fuck!

As Jason stirred the spicy soup in his bowl, he suddenly felt a twinge of sadness.

He noticed David's expression and asked perceptively, "What's wrong? Do you miss your wife and children?"

David nodded, his eyes reddening. "I haven't seen them for a long time."

"How about I help you visit them?"

David was about to nod, but after looking at Jason's face, he shook his head decisively. Men like you should stay as far away from my wife as possible!

Jason thought for a moment and said, "Just hold on for a few more days. Once we make some real money, I'll buy a large estate in New Jersey where you can bring them to live. It's much safer there than here. Additionally, we can put our operation against Agent Orange on the agenda. But if we want to lure him out, our best bet is to find Frank first."

Agent Orange was the mastermind behind the trafficking of fallen American soldiers' bodies and the current director of the CIA's secret operations department, William Rawlins. The man's whereabouts were so secretive that even David found it nearly impossible to track him down.

They had previously attempted to lure him out with incriminating videotapes, but the effort proved futile.

It seemed that only Frank, who had done Rollins' dirty work, could successfully draw him out.

David nodded. "I've been tracking Frank's movements. I have a feeling we'll encounter him soon!"

Jason had a rough idea that Frank was likely hiding at a construction site somewhere in New York, but he didn't know which one. Additionally, Frank possessed superior anti-reconnaissance awareness, which explained why he had never been located.

However, as David methodically eliminated false leads, this human extreme warrior—equivalent to a level-ten agent—would eventually surface.

Chapter 40: Creed: Kill to gain redemption

In the evening, on a bench along the bank of the Hudson River, Black Widow Natasha gazed at the sunset and then glanced at the watch on her wrist.

The shimmering river surface reflected a bright crimson light onto her face, making it impossible to discern her expression.

"Ta-ta."

Hearing footsteps behind her, she checked her watch once more.

"Hey, is this red-haired beauty waiting for someone? Oh, it seems like you're waiting for me! Sorry I'm late—you know how evening rush hour traffic is absolutely brutal!"

Natasha maintained an expressionless face. "It's fine. You're only one hour, forty-eight minutes, and twenty-six seconds late."

"Oh, that's too bad!"

Jason sat down beside her and said, "There's not much I could do about it. There are dozens of agents surrounding me, and I'm a little concerned. If we ever have a falling out, I need to have an escape route planned. It took some time... I hope you don't mind? Like... I don't mind that guy with the bow and arrow who keeps aiming at me! Um, are you sure he can actually hit a moving target?"

Black Widow took a deep breath. Within moments of their meeting, he had already delivered several thinly veiled warnings.

"...Of course he can. Barton is a professional."

"That's good."

Jason relaxed into the bench, watching the sunset and humming a little tune.

Black Widow began to reassess the armored man before her. He was more perceptive than she had anticipated.

"Mr. Iron... Man, you seem quite familiar with our organization?"

Jason turned his head and studied her. Under the light of the setting sun, Black Widow looked exceptionally beautiful and alluring.

For such a woman, it suddenly became understandable that someone might be obsessed enough to drink her bathwater.

Unfortunately, the name "Black Widow" already foreshadowed her dangerous nature.

Jason didn't answer her question directly, but instead asked, "What's that awkward name your organization goes by?"

Black Widow looked puzzled but replied anyway: "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

"I'll give you an abbreviation. How about... SHIELD?"

"What?"

His response completely caught her off guard.

How could he casually suggest renaming another organization just like that?

Frowning slightly, she suddenly realized that she seemed to have lost control of the conversation.

Take it back!

But Jason's next words made it impossible for her to regain her composure: "By the way, do you want to kill Dreykov and destroy his Red Room?"

Black Widow's heart raced—this question touched on what mattered most to her. "He's dead!"

"Where did he die?"

"Budapest!"

"Fake!"

Jason looked her directly in the eyes. "That bomb didn't kill him. But congratulations, you successfully traumatized his sweet and innocent daughter. While she was dying, Dreykov implanted a chip in her, turning her into a living, breathing killing machine!"

The Black Widow froze, her entire body rigid with shock.

The Black Widow sitting before Jason was the first gold-level target he had ever encountered.

Judging from his foreknowledge, she would become a qualified superhero.

But she came from the Red Room and had significant blood on her hands.

So, should he kill her?

She had killed innocent people, but she had also saved innocent people.

She would eventually become a force for good.

The Buddha said, "Put down the butcher's knife and become a Buddha immediately."

That's bullshit.

Jason believed in fighting evil with evil—bad people would continue their evil deeds until they were dead.

Killing them was equivalent to indirectly saving countless lives.

But now, if Natasha were killed, Jason couldn't replace her future role, which might mean that people she would have saved would die instead. Jason didn't know the specific criteria the system used to evaluate target.

But he wasn't merely a pawn of the system.

To kill or not to kill—he was the final decision maker!

Such a beauty was a pleasure to behold. It would be a shame to kill her.

He suddenly recalled a phrase he often saw in the system messages.

"Natasha, tell me, if a person has committed terrible sins, what should they do to achieve redemption?"

Black Widow looked up, slightly dazed. "I..."

"Let me tell you: Killing! Only by eliminating the truly evil can you find redemption!"

"That's bullshit!"

A loud shout came from behind Jason!

He didn't appear angry, but instead smiled and said, "Mr. Barton, this is our first meeting. I've been curious about your archery skills for quite some time. It's a shame that after aiming at me so many times, you never took a shot. I was looking forward to dodging your arrows."

Hawkeye ignored him.

He looked at the guilt-stricken Black Widow with concern and fury: "What evidence do you have for these accusations? What's your real agenda here?"

Jason raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. The system hadn't marked Barton as target, suggesting he was just an ordinary agent with a conscience.

"What agenda could I possibly have, Mr. Barton? Wasn't it your organization, SHIELD, that invited me here?"

Clint Barton rolled his eyes and said, "I'm telling you, we are called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, not some ridiculous S.H.I.E.L.D.! Not now, and not ever!"

Jason smiled and replied, "Haha, it seems like what you say doesn't carry much weight, does it?"

Hawkeye gritted his teeth. "Hmph, if the director actually listens to you and changes our name to that ridiculous acronym, I'll quit the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division altogether!"

Jason raised his eyebrows. "You're so full of confidence. Why call yourself Hawkeye? I'll give you a new name: Confidence Man!"

Hawkeye glared at him, then quickly moved to Black Widow's side and gripped her shoulders supportively.

"Natasha, it's not your fault! We developed that plan together. Even if what this guy says is true, I bear half the responsibility!"

Black Widow looked at him sadly and shook her head. "No, I designed the plan and planted the bomb. You were just a witness. This has nothing to do with you. I should bear full responsibility."

"That guy is lying!"

Black Widow shook her head. Jason had been very close to her moments ago. His breath and eyes had told her he wasn't lying.

She looked at Jason, who stared back intently. "Natasha, I hope you'll let Hawkeye share half the responsibility with you."

Black Widow took a deep breath. "How bad is it?"

"Dreykov has trained... thousands of Black Widows!"

Black Widow was stunned. After a long moment, she murmured, "If I had killed him properly the first time, none of this would have happened, right?"

Jason shook his head and sighed, saying this certainly wasn't entirely Black Widow's fault.

But it was precisely because SHIELD believed her report and thought Dreykov was dead that the Red Room was allowed to flourish and expand rapidly.

She bore an undeniable responsibility.

"How many corpses would it take to train thousands of professional female assassins? How much blood will be on their hands? This is what I told you—only killing can bring redemption!"

Black Widow remained silent, seemingly deep in thought.

Clint Barton grew increasingly anxious. He wanted to comfort Natasha, but couldn't find the right words.

He knew her history and her character all too well.

So instead, he redirected his attention to Jason: "After saying all this, what exactly is your purpose?"

Jason smiled. "Purpose? Why do I need a purpose? Isn't this what a righteous hero should do?"

Hawkeye paused. "You, righteous? You've killed numerous people in Hell's Kitchen! You're not just a poisoner and a murderer—you're a sadistic killer! Hell’s Butcher!"

Does anyone even know who the Confidence Man is?