The intoxicated man swayed dizzily, his words tumbling out in a disjointed stream to Jason.
"I was an intelligence analyst for Homeland Security," he slurred, his bloodshot eyes unfocused. "Accidentally discovered this video... military executing someone in Afghanistan."
He paused, struggling to maintain his balance. "Something was wrong—so wrong. The man they killed clearly identified himself as Afghan National Police, but they executed him anyway. Without hesitation. Without mercy."
The drunken man's voice cracked. "I reported it through proper channels. And you know what happened? They tried to kill me for it. My own colleagues—people I trusted—ambushed me on that bridge. Shot me in the chest and I fell into the river."
Tears streamed down his face as he clutched Jason's leg with unexpected strength. "They left me for dead!"
Jason remained outwardly composed while internally exasperated.
Seriously, brother? I'm in the middle of burying people—could your timing possibly be worse?
Yet as the man continued his story, Jason experienced a jolt of recognition. The details were hauntingly familiar.
The system silently confirmed: [The man survived against all odds.]
"But to protect my family," the drunk continued, "I had to disappear completely. Let everyone believe I died that night."
His voice took on a hint of pride through the slurring. "Using my hacking skills, I've managed to survive—money isn't an issue. But I can't see my family. Can't hold them. If I reveal myself, the people who want me dead will never stop hunting us."
He described how he'd acquired advanced electronic equipment, establishing a makeshift intelligence hub to uncover why he'd been targeted. "But living alone, watching my wife and children only through surveillance footage for months—it's killing me slowly. Tonight, I just... broke. Got drunk. Ended up here, hoping God might have some answers for me."
Jason's eyes narrowed with sudden interest. "What's your name?" he asked carefully.
"David Lieberman."
Jackpot. This was Micro—the legendary hacker who would become the brains behind the original Punisher, Frank Castle. The operational mastermind. The surveillance expert.
The man whose wife Frank would eventually... well, get uncomfortably close to.
That Frank wasn't exactly a gentleman, was he?
But even setting aside his still-attractive wife, David Lieberman was a tremendous asset just waiting to be utilized.
During Jason's operation tonight, he'd quickly realized that killing wasn't particularly difficult—the real challenge was eliminating evidence and avoiding detection.
Especially in Hell's Kitchen, he faced twin threats: potential retaliation from criminal elements and the unwanted attention of Daredevil.
If the vigilante discovered Jason's extracurricular activities, there was no doubt he'd find himself behind bars faster than he could say "divine punishment."
But having a surveillance expert with hacking abilities would transform everything. Lieberman's drone expertise and capacity for digital omniscience would give Jason an invaluable tactical advantage.
The question was: how to convert this drunken, traumatized man into a willing accomplice?
After brief deliberation, Jason delivered a precise strike to the back of David's head, instantly silencing his rambling monologue as the man crumpled unconscious to the floor.
Jason carried him upstairs to the guest bedroom before returning to complete his burial task.
...
Thirty minutes later, the system notification finally appeared in Jason's mind.
[Mission accomplished.]
Character level: Iron-tier.
Upgrade: Not upgraded.
Cause of death: Buried alive.
Freshness: Five stars.
End-of-life emotions: Fear, regret.
Sentiment rating: Five stars.
Comprehensive task evaluation: Five stars! Special rewards for five-star, gift packages being upgraded... Reward: Iron Five-Star Gift Pack, Double Luck]
Jason eagerly opened the virtual gift package.
[Congratulations on receiving the reward: Night Vision.]
Perfect! This ability was invaluable!
Vision represented humanity's primary means of perceiving the world, and night vision would transform him into an apex predator in darkness!
He felt a surge of appreciation. The system clearly encouraged varied execution methods!
Five-star ratings significantly increased the probability of premium rewards from the gift packages.
Checking the system again, he noticed the progress for Iron-tier target had advanced to 1/5.
This suggested that target requirements for each reward tier increased in odd numbers: 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, and so on.
He realized that to consistently achieve five-star mission ratings, his best strategy was to focus on the initial stages of each difficulty level—specifically the first 1, 3, and 5 kills.
As the required number increased, maintaining five-star quality for each execution would become challenging, unless he orchestrated mass eliminations.
For optimal results, he needed to approach the first few tasks at each level with meticulous planning.
Currently, he needed four more five-star kills to obtain the second five-star gift package.
It seemed his business with the Flame Crips was far from concluded!
...
Pain.
Throbbing, relentless pain.
David Lieberman awoke with a groan, clutching his head as consciousness returned. He sat up abruptly, disoriented, taking in unfamiliar surroundings.
Where am I?
Alarmed, he hurried downstairs, only to realize he was inside a church. He massaged his temples, struggling to recall the previous night's events, when a calm voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You're awake. Come join me."
In the church's backyard, Jason was tending to various plants, wearing rubber gardening gloves.
Seeing David's confused expression, he smiled warmly. "The previous priest neglected these poor things. They're all withered and struggling. I've just fertilized them—with luck, they'll bloom again in a few days."
David studied the young man before him. Dressed in a traditional black clerical suit with a white Roman collar and prominent cross, he projected an image of gentle piety.
His smile seemed genuinely warm and welcoming.
Yet something felt profoundly wrong. Standing before this unassuming Asian man, David experienced the same instinctive wariness he'd felt facing elite Security Bureau operatives.
Danger.
As a veteran intelligence analyst with exceptional intuition, he trusted this visceral warning.
"I, uh... must have been completely wasted last night," he attempted casually. "Hello, Father! My name is... Frank. I'm a fiction writer struggling with writer's block lately—been hitting the bottle too hard."
He forced an embarrassed laugh. "I probably couldn't distinguish between my stories and reality. Might have said some crazy things—I apologize for any nonsense!"
Jason regarded him with unwavering calm. "David Lieberman. You don't need to hide your identity from me."
David's expression flickered momentarily. "My name is Frank. David Lieberman is just a character in my novel. I must have been too deep in my fictional world—"
"Your wife's name is Sarah Lieberman. You have a son and daughter named Zach and Leo."
The color drained from David's face. His family represented his ultimate vulnerability—the one leverage point he would never allow anyone to exploit.
He lunged forward, seizing Jason's collar with unexpected ferocity. "Who the hell are you? WHO ARE YOU?"
His movements were desperate, uncoordinated.
Jason delivered a precise, powerful strike to David's solar plexus. The intense pain doubled him over instantly.
Jason calmly guided the gasping man into the church's main hall, positioning him beneath the altar cross.
"I am God's knight—an avenger who punishes evil," Jason declared solemnly. "Under divine guidance, I will cleanse this corrupt world. I am the second sword of God, sent to purify humanity. I... am the Great Flood!"
He crouched to meet David's gaze as the man knelt involuntarily on the floor. "Join me and witness the darkness that consumes this world. You will also behold the light of hope shining through the deepest despair. The flood brings destruction but also salvation, despair but also rebirth. This world will either be purified by my hand... or destroyed by it."
Jason's expression remained profoundly serene, his demeanor almost messianic.
David stared back, unimpressed. "Bullshit," he responded flatly.
Jason sighed inwardly, somewhat deflated.
Why doesn't anyone ever buy into the divine messenger angle?
Fortunately, he had prepared a contingency approach.
"Last night, divine revelation showed me everything," he continued seamlessly. "David Lieberman, intelligence analyst for Homeland Security, discovered video evidence documenting Operation Cerberus. Subsequently shot in broad daylight by Senior Agent Carson Wolf, you fell from that bridge into the river below."
Jason allowed himself a small smile. "The cell phone in your breast pocket saved your life. After escaping death, you altered your identity and began planning your revenge. Am I accurate so far?"
David appeared momentarily stunned. He hadn't known the operation's code name was Cerberus.
"You're just repeating what I apparently rambled about while drunk," he countered. "Adding a few details doesn't make your divine messenger act any more convincing."
"So... have you formulated a plan to locate Frank Castle and propose an alliance?"
David froze—this specific thought had remained entirely private, something he'd never verbalized.
Still, he maintained his skepticism. "I don't believe you."
"Very well," Jason replied, dropping all pretense of mysticism. "Here's the unvarnished truth: During the Afghan campaign, CIA operatives cultivated opium fields in remote mountainous regions. They used the bodies of fallen American soldiers to transport heroin back to the United States, generating immense profits."
His voice hardened. "Operation Cerberus was a cleanup mission—assassinations designed to eliminate witnesses and conceal their drug trafficking operation. Wolf was among the conspirators."
Jason leaned closer. "The architect behind everything is the current director of the CIA's covert operations division—Agent Orange, William Rawlins."
David stood motionless, visibly processing this information.
"So you intend to fight them?" Jason pressed. "Or do you believe Frank Castle alone can dismantle their operation? Don't be naive. Reality isn't a comic book or action movie. Do you genuinely think he possesses some protagonist's plot armor that renders him invincible?"
David finally found his voice again. "And you? Can you truly stand against an operation like this?"
"Without question," Jason declared confidently.
He stood dramatically at the foot of the cross, arms outstretched. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting a prismatic glow around his silhouette, creating an almost otherworldly effect.
"I am beyond human limitations. I am divine judgment personified—a god who punishes all sins!"
David, a lifelong atheist, felt his rational mind faltering. "How... how could that be possible?