Five infamous figures — the Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, the Lizard, Juggernaut, and Sandman — stood in formation before General Ross. Each of them had been rearmed, restored, and restrained by the same device clasped around their necks: a nano-bomb collar, ready to detonate at the general's command.
This was Project Thunderbolt's strike team — a unit composed entirely of madmen, monsters, and megalomaniacs. A squad that could only exist in the shadows.
Ross rose from his chair, his expression cold and commanding as his gaze swept across the lineup.
"Congratulations, cannon fodder," he said flatly. "From today onward, you will serve as instruments of American interests — worldwide. You're not good men, and I don't expect you to be. I'll simply assign you to do good things. There are countless so-called heroes out there preaching justice, but there are always tasks they can't, or won't, do. That's where you come in."
He clasped his hands behind his back and continued, his voice hard as steel.
"You have no citizenship, no rights, and almost no one knows you even exist. You answer only to me. If I die, every one of you dies with me."
The Green Goblin sneered, running a clawed finger along his collar, feeling the hard, cold metal beneath his skin. "So you want us to risk our lives — most of the time just to get ourselves killed — in exchange for a reduced sentence?"
Ross smirked, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. "Yes… and no."
He snapped his fingers. Several guards appeared, carrying metal briefcases. When they flipped them open, a trove of advanced scientific equipment gleamed under the overhead lights. None of the villains knew exactly what they were for — but each of them recognized something personal inside.
"You can continue your research here," Ross said smoothly. "If you want to find a way to escape, go ahead and try. I don't care."
His eyes moved from one criminal to the next.
"Sandman — you've been trying to restore your human body. My scientists can help with that.
Juggernaut — I'll let you pray to your so-called god again. The ritual tools you asked for are in there.
Goblin, Lizard — those alternate personalities that torment you? I might have a way to silence them permanently."
He stepped closer, his tone turning almost casual.
"So, your choice is simple: return to your lonely cells, or follow my orders and get a breath of freedom. The path is right before you."
At his gesture, the guards parted, revealing two corridors — one leading back toward solitary confinement, and another disappearing into a dimly lit stairway.
The decision didn't take long. The five supervillains exchanged brief, silent glances — then, almost as one, turned and began ascending the staircase. Whether it was desperation, pride, or the illusion of freedom that drove them, each had "volunteered" to join General Ross's Cannon Fodder Squad.
---
The prison warden stood off to the side, visibly anxious as he watched the monsters march away. He finally broke his silence.
"General, this… this is madness. These people are lunatics — abominations! They'll destroy everything they touch. It's like sticking your hand into a firepit!"
Ross only chuckled, lighting another cigarette.
"During World War II," he began, "the U.S. Navy recruited imprisoned mob bosses to protect New York's harbors. Madmen and monsters — they're still people. And people are born to be used." He took a drag and exhaled a long plume of smoke.
"After all these years fighting superhumans, I've learned one thing: only monsters can fight monsters. The Avengers can't solve every problem. We need something darker, something that works in the shadows. That's them."
He dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath his boot. "And if sticking my hand in the fire is what America needs," he said coldly, "then let it burn."
---
SCREEEECH—GRRIND—
A deep, mechanical roar filled the air. The floor trembled. Everyone in the courtyard froze.
It was a sound every guard and inmate knew well — the grinding of titanic metal supports as the Raft rose toward the ocean's surface.
But no one had given the order.
Ross's expression darkened instantly. "Control room, report! What the hell is going on up there?!"
His furious voice crackled through the intercom — but in the control room, Marcus simply smiled and smashed the microphone to pieces.
Beside him, the Winter Soldier's cybernetic fingers danced over the console, hacking the laser defense system. On the monitors, every lifeform in the prison complex was being reclassified. One by one, all personnel — except for Ross — were marked as hostiles.
The Soldier's fingers hovered briefly over the Enter key. Then he pressed it.
A mechanical voice echoed through the entire prison:
"Command confirmed. Commencing extermination of all nearby hostiles."
---
For a heartbeat, the guards stood frozen, confused by the announcement.
"Hostiles? What hostiles?"
They didn't have time to ask again.
Dozens of automated laser turrets rotated simultaneously, their targeting lenses glowing with concentrated blue light.
And then —
Biu! Biu! Biu! Biu! Biu!
The sound was like a storm breaking loose.
Beams of light rained down like a deadly monsoon. Every impact exploded in a burst of energy, punching molten holes the size of dinner plates through armor and flesh alike. Within seconds, over thirty guards had fallen, their bodies collapsing in heaps of scorched bone and metal.
Those who survived scrambled desperately for cover, firing blindly upward, though their bullets might as well have been pebbles thrown at a tank.
The Raft's automated defenses were merciless. The laser turrets tracked every motion with mechanical precision — a guard had barely a second to peek out before his head evaporated in a flash of blue.
Ross, realizing the scale of the disaster, roared orders over the chaos.
"Get to the control center! Now! Our systems are compromised!"
But his voice was swallowed by the storm of gunfire and screams. The very system he'd designed to make the Raft impregnable had turned on him — and the only way to reach the control room was through a gauntlet of fire.
Ross's fury boiled over. "Useless! You're all useless!"
He ripped a compact device from his coat pocket — a handheld controller resembling a sleek smartphone. It displayed the status of every nano-collar currently active in the facility. His fingers flew across the screen until a message appeared:
"Activate remote detonation sequence upon exit from Raft perimeter.
Confirm: YES / NO?"
Ross's jaw tightened. He slammed his thumb against the screen.
"YES."
__
T/N:
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