I put monsters and super powers in America

The Defense Minister's heart beat wildly.

There is such a good thing in the world?!

Not only did he get a huge achievement for free, but he also made a fortune along the way?!

"Deal!" He agreed without hesitation, fearing that the other party would go back on his word.

After hanging up the phone, the defense minister felt as if he were floating on clouds. All his worries and anxieties had vanished in this call filled with sincerity and friendship.

"Atlas... he's truly my good brother! My adopted parent!"

At the same time, Atlas on the other end of the phone showed an evil smile that showed he had a plan.

"Yes! Everything is as planned!"

88. The birth of the "Whisperers" Society!

New York State, New Area 52, Underground Level 3, Bioengineering and Extraordinary Matter Research Center.

This was the federal government's latest secret military laboratory, one of its most central and mysterious restricted areas. The air was thick with a distinct scent, a mixture of ozone, disinfectant, and some exotic biological tissue sample. Heavy, airtight doors made of titanium alloy lined the corridors. Every ten meters, a fully automatic defensive machine gun turret glowed red, its cold muzzles silently signaling the tight security of this area.

Inside the sterile laboratory A-3, the atmosphere was as oppressive as an execution ground where a death penalty was about to be carried out.

A dozen researchers wearing high-level white bio-protective suits were surrounding a huge dissecting table made of special alloys. All of them seemed to be under a spell, motionless, and the expressions hidden under the protective masks on their faces were full of disbelief, frustration and confusion as if they had seen a ghost.

Lying quietly on the dissection table was the "body" of "Bone Blade" Jamal Washington, which had been transported all the way back from Tulsa.

Logically, this should have been a frenzy that would have the entire lab buzzing with excitement. A complete, recently deceased "evolver" corpse, possessing powerful melee-focused supernatural abilities! For these hungry researchers, this was a truly sumptuous feast, sent from the heavens!

However, when they were filled with excitement and anticipation and carefully used the most sophisticated instruments to conduct a preliminary scan of this precious "specimen", the results they obtained left everyone dumbfounded.

"Impossible...This is absolutely impossible!"

The project leader, Dr. Felix Hamilton, the marine biology authority who had been in high spirits at Pearl Harbor not long ago, preparing to conduct "historic sampling" of the "Leviathan", was now staring intently at the 3D scan model displayed on the holographic projector in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot due to excessive shock, and he kept muttering in an unclear voice.

Of course he wasn't dead. At the moment Leviathan revived, he was tackled by a nearby Marine who had reacted. Although he was thrown back by the blast, breaking three ribs and a leg, he managed to escape with his life. At this moment, he was in a wheelchair, wearing a cast, personally directing the investigation of another "transcendent" corpse.

But... the scene before him made him feel more devastated than being eaten by "Leviathan" on the spot.

The pair of ferocious bone blades that were indestructible on the battlefield and capable of tearing through steel disappeared.

Completely and without a trace disappeared.

As if they never existed.

Jamal's arms, which had become as thick as a beast due to the mutation, have now returned to their normal appearance. Except for some tiny scars on his skin left by muscle tearing, there is no other abnormality.

The lab's most advanced X-ray machine and bone density scanner meticulously scanned the bone structure of his arm no less than ten times, and the result was still the same: "Normal human bone, slightly higher density than normal, no abnormalities or hyperplasia found."

"Extraordinary power... is like evaporating water vapor, just like that... disappearing out of thin air, unreasonably?" Dr. Hamilton muttered to himself absentmindedly. He felt that the scientific worldview he had built up over decades was being ruthlessly crushed bit by bit by this cold and cruel reality.

"This is unscientific! This totally defies the law of conservation of energy! Where on earth did all the matter and energy that transformed his body beyond recognition go?!"

The atmosphere in the lab was as oppressive as a grave. All the researchers looked at each other, their expressions changing from initial ecstasy to a look of frustration and bewilderment, as if they had been doused with a bucket of ice water.

Just when everyone fell into deep self-doubt and even began to wonder whether the "Supernormal Research" project itself was a huge joke, a young female researcher in charge of blood sample analysis suddenly let out an uncontrollable scream full of surprise and new discoveries.

"Doc! Come look at this!"

Everyone's eyes were instantly focused on the display screen of the high-power electron microscope in front of her.

On the screen was a drop of blood sample from Jamal Washington's body, magnified tens of thousands of times.

"Within that drop of dark red blood, countless tiny golden dots, as bright as stars, slowly swam and flickered in a rhythmic manner imbued with life! They seemed to possess a life and will of their own, gracefully weaving between the hemoglobin and white blood cells. Every flicker emitted a faint yet vibrant, unique energy fluctuation!"

"Oh my... God..."

Dr. Hamilton suddenly stood up from his wheelchair. He even forgot the severe pain in his ribs and stumbled to the microscope. The light in his cloudy old eyes was rekindled, brighter and crazier than ever before!

"The supernatural factor! It's it! That's it!" He roared like a madman, his voice trembling with extreme excitement. "We've found it! We've finally found the true carrier of supernatural power! It's not stored in the bones, nor in the muscles! It... it's hidden in the blood! It exists in a symbiotic form with the host that we currently cannot understand!"

The entire laboratory was instantly flooded with thunderous cheers!

……

Hangar G-5, Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland.

This is the exclusive training and rest base for the "Super Marun" project, and its security level is comparable to that of Area 52.

Inside a makeshift church improvised from a military tent, filled with the stench of sweat and cheap beer, the atmosphere was completely different from the frenzy of the A-3 laboratory. It was filled with a kind of oppressive tranquility before an undercurrent surged.

Seven or eight burly "Super Maruns" wearing camouflage T-shirts and training pants are sitting around a "card table" made up of several ammunition boxes, conducting their weekly routine "Texas Hold'em Tournament" - and, the equally routine "ideological exchange meeting" that only they themselves understand.

"John, follow."

It was their captain, Mark Spencer, who spoke. He was also the commander of the surviving team that Aaron had spoken with in South Dakota.

Mark threw two beer bottle caps as chips into the middle of the table, then took out a crumpled newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it slowly.

The newspaper was CNN, and the front-page headline was an in-depth report on the Tulsa incident. The headline was full of the inflammatory sharpness unique to liberal media: "Greenwood Under Fire: Who is the Real Terrorist?"

"Have you all seen it?" Mark's eyes swept over everyone present, his voice low and powerful, without any emotion.

The people present were all his true brothers who had fought alongside the Vietnam War veteran (Aaron) in South Dakota, having emerged from the sea of ​​blood and corpses. They were also the earliest "seeds" of doubt about the Union.

"I saw it," a burly man with a hideous scar across his face, codenamed "Butcher," said sullenly. He slammed his cards down on the table, tilted his head back and took a long gulp of beer, then smashed the empty bottle hard on the ground. "Damn it! A bunch of sons of bitches sitting in that office! They let Brian and Tommy die in vain at the hands of a nigger who didn't deserve to die and just wanted an explanation!"

"It's not just that." Another bespectacled, gentle-looking soldier, codenamed "Professor," pushed his glasses. His voice was calm but sharp. "I looked up Greenwood's history. I spent a lot of time and effort, and found some dusty information from a hundred years ago in the database of the Library of Congress. That place... is a fucking hell on earth."

"Our ancestors, and even our ancestors' ancestors, massacred the people there in the most brutal way. And now, we are repeating the same thing."

"So, those claims on Fox News about the 'Black Panthers are terrorists' are all... bullshit?" A young soldier couldn't help but speak, his face still showing a bit of confusion from his inexperience.

"What else?" Mark sneered. "Do you really believe that nonsense? Don't forget how they defined those unarmed Indians as 'terrorists' last time in South Dakota."

He stood up and walked to the simple "altar" built with two ammunition boxes and a cross.

"We all swore an oath to fight for this country, for freedom and justice. But now, I'm confused."

His eyes swept over the faded American flag on the wall.

"This country... it's sick, very sick. Both racism and LGBTQism are merely symptoms, not the root of the disease. Before we can cure this evil disease, is the country we are shedding blood and sacrificing our lives for an ideal worth protecting, or... a rotting, stinking monster?"

Just when everyone fell silent and the atmosphere became extremely depressing, the curtain of the tent was suddenly lifted.

An officer in a white coat walked in with a serious face, holding a list in his hand.

"Captain Mark Spencer, Lieutenant James 'The Butcher' Wright, Captain Anthony 'The Professor' Hopkins..."

He read out the names of half the people present.

"Congratulations, everyone! After the latest round of genetic screening, you have been determined to be 'perfectly qualified.' Now, follow me immediately to Laboratory A-3 to prepare for a new round of enhanced testing."

"If you succeed, you will become a new type of Super Marun, codenamed 'Primaris'."

Mark and his brothers looked at each other and saw a hint of determination in each other's eyes.

In the A-3 laboratory, the cold light of the shadowless lamp illuminates the entire room as bright as day.

Mark and his three brothers, shirtless, lay calmly on four metal lab tables, their arms connected to thick IV tubes.

Dr. Hamilton was personally operating a sophisticated centrifuge to carry out the final purification and processing of the blood that was drawn from Jamal's body and was sparkling with golden light.

"Prepare for a blood transfusion."

Following his order, four blood bags containing dark red liquid and emitting a faint golden light were hung on the infusion stand.

The ice-cold liquid, which seemed to have the temperature of another soul, flowed slowly, drop by drop, into the blood vessels of Mark and others through the infusion tube.

At first, there was nothing special about it.

But soon, a violent energy as hot as magma suddenly erupted from the deepest part of their hearts!

"Uhhh-!!!"

Indescribable pain instantly spread throughout their limbs and bones! They felt as if their bodies were being brutally torn apart and reassembled from the inside out by an invisible force!

Their bodies grew taller and stronger at a visible rate. Their already hard bones increased in density, emitting a teeth-grinding, crunching sound. Their muscle fibers tore and reassembled, unleashing even more terrifying power!

What shocked them even more was that with the infusion of blood, some fragmented memories that did not belong to them, which were filled with anger and unwillingness, also flooded into their minds like a tide!

Black and white images, like those from an old movie, flashed before their eyes—the bustling "Black Wall Street," homes engulfed in flames, charred bodies hanging from lynching trees, the resolute and unyielding young faces under the Black Panther banner, and… a tattered pamphlet with a red five-pointed star on the cover. Those few lines, though written in English, were filled with Eastern wisdom and power. They were deafening: "Political power grows from the barrel of a gun," "A single spark can start a prairie fire," "Work hard and you will have enough food and clothing"…

When the experiment was over and the heart-wrenching pain slowly subsided, Mark and his three brothers slowly sat up from the laboratory table.

Their faces were expressionless, but there was something in their eyes that was completely different from before, something deeper and more determined.

They finally found the answer.

I finally saw clearly the only path that could heal this already terminally ill country, a path full of thorns and blood.

A few days later, in that makeshift church filled with the stench of sweat.

Mark placed a red-covered booklet in the middle of the table made of ammunition boxes.

This is an English-language souvenir he got from an old man who used to be a guerrilla fighter in exchange for a few pieces of green paper during an overseas peacekeeping mission.

"Brothers," he looked at everyone present, his voice calm but powerful, "from today on, we will study the contents of this book in secret."

"Also, I've come up with a new name for our 'card club.'"

"We will follow the theories and words in this book as our future direction and guidance."

"So we are..."

"The Whisperer!"

89. The national guardian beast "Wakanda"!

At this moment, the atmosphere in the White House staff office was unprecedentedly... harmonious. One could even say, ecstatic.

Whether it was the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of State, or several core staff members, they all swept away their previous gloom and smiled happily, as if they had just won a war that would determine the fate of the country.

"Gentlemen, I have to say, this is absolutely the best news I've received since taking office!" The Chief of Staff took a sip of coffee and let out a satisfied sigh. "That... um, that sacred beast we've tentatively named Wakanda's 'Black Panther'... it's actually willing to negotiate with us!"

"Yes, sir!" The negotiation expert in charge of the initial contact was standing aside with a flattering expression on his face, reporting the latest progress in his inflammatory tone. "According to the observations of our drones and our intelligence personnel, its intelligence far exceeds our imagination! Not only can it understand the goodwill we convey through the loudspeaker, it can even use its claws to write simple words on the ground in response!"

"Later, we rushed to make a keyboard that he could type with his paws, and this guy actually managed to communicate with us in English! Oh my god, I really want to hug the Lord who taught him how to write and give him a big kiss. He's helped us so much!"

"The conditions it proposed are also... also very... well, very 'beastly'." A strange expression appeared on the face of the negotiation expert, as if he wanted to laugh but didn't dare to.

"It needs a sufficiently large 'territory.' This territory is the entire area within a 120-kilometer radius centered on the Greenwood community. Within this area, it has absolute and supreme 'hunting rights' and 'nesting rights.' No human being without its permission is allowed to trespass."

"It also said it needs 'servants' to serve it. The black residents under its 'protection' are excellent candidates..." The negotiator paused, his tone becoming even stranger. "It said those are its 'property'. It can ask us to build better 'nests' for its 'property' in its 'territory', provide better 'feed' and water, and educate its cubs and any stupid ones so they maintain a good mental state to serve it. But we cannot interfere in any of its 'property's' internal affairs within its 'territory'."

After hearing these "negotiation conditions" full of primitive tribal atmosphere, the whole office erupted into uncontrollable, roaring laughter.

"Hahahaha! Territory? Hunting rights? Service? Property?" The Secretary of State laughed so hard that tears came out. "Oh my God! This monster, does it really think it's some ancient tribal chief? Or a feudal lord from the Middle Ages?"

"Now, we can rest assured!" The Defense Minister patted his chest with a sigh of relief. "Though these conditions sound ridiculous, they perfectly prove one thing—they have absolutely nothing to do with that damned 'Bone Blade' waving the Black Panther Party flag! An ambitious person whose head is filled with the ghost of Communistism would never make such purely animalistic demands that are full of 'feudal lord' overtones!"

"Our intelligence department previously worried that this sacred beast, the 'Black Panther,' might be the 'heroic spirit' created by the powerful resentment and extraordinary power of the 'Bone Blade' after his death, combined with the earth. Now it seems that this is completely nonsense! It's just a beast with a relatively high IQ, knowing how to seek benefits and avoid harm! That's all!"

"As long as it's a wild beast, it's easy to deal with!"

"As long as it's a beast, it has desires and weaknesses! We can exploit it! We can control it!"

For a moment, the office was filled with a cheerful atmosphere. The gloomy atmosphere of "supernormal loss of control" that had weighed on everyone's hearts for so many days seemed to have dissipated in that moment.

"Then..." The Secretary of State looked at the Yanyan officials present, "What should we do?"

At this time, the senior special assistant in charge of religious affairs spoke up.

"You said that if we agreed to all of its conditions, and then canonized it as the 'Guardian Beast' of the United States of America, I could even personally request His Holiness the Pope of the Vatican to hold a grand, globally broadcast consecration ceremony for it, canonizing it as the 'Guardian Beast Sent by God to Protect America'..."

"So, what are Christian conservatives around the world, and our own centrist swing voters, going to think about this?"

He stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and opened his arms as if embracing the whole world.

"My suggestion is, talk! Talk about anything! Give it whatever it wants!"

"Isn't it just a piece of scrap land? That place is so poor anyway, we won't lose anything even if we give it away for free! Isn't it just building some infrastructure? As long as the divine beasts support us, that little money is nothing! Not to mention, we can even try to get them to exchange their hair, nails, or saliva for something else! The value of the things on these sacred beasts is far greater than the cost of the civil engineering project!"

"We, the United States, will become the Holy Land of the World!"

"Go tell it! As long as it's willing to obey, don't even think about making it a 'national guardian beast'! Even if I let it take a walk in Washington, I'll personally hold its leash!"

"By the way," the Defense Minister said with a smug look on his face, "We've also successfully recovered Bone Blade's body! We've also made new progress in our research into the power within him!"

"We have already applied it to some of the eligible Super Maruns!"

"The new Super Marun will be even more powerful! Accepting the new power we grant them, they will also be more loyal!"

"Now, gentlemen, get busy and organize this good news and report it to your superiors!"

"He will be very happy to hear this news!"

……