Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

The SUV carrying Evenson rolled to a stop.

He and Melinda stepped out together.

To preserve their anonymity, both wore full tactical gear identical to the rest of the team. Balaclavas concealed their faces, combat uniforms hid their figures, and not a single identifying feature remained visible beyond their eyes.

Melinda noticed Evenson glancing at her.

"What?"

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing."

Evenson looked away.

Definitely not going to comment that, with all that gear on, it’s surprisingly difficult to tell she’s a woman.

Some thoughts were better left unspoken.

They had stopped roughly thirty yards from the ruined cottage.

Evenson had no intention of walking through the debris.

"Bring him here."

"And get the wounded operator treated."

"Yes, sir."

Two soldiers escorted the injured man to the medic while the others dragged the bullet-riddled target toward the convoy.

Only then did Evenson notice the gravestone beside which he was standing.

It was old.

Far older than the others nearby.

Yet unlike the weathered markers surrounding it, every letter remained perfectly legible.

Someone had maintained it with extraordinary care for more than a century.

Or...

Someone had needed the world to remember that the man buried beneath it was unquestionably dead.

Perhaps both.

The soldiers dropped Carter Slade onto the ground in front of him.

Evenson lightly tapped the gravestone with one finger.

"So..."

"How much longer do you intend to keep pretending?"

"Carter Slade."

The operators exchanged puzzled looks.

Pretending?

The man had enough bullet holes to qualify as a watering can.

If this was an act, it deserved an award.

A wet cough suddenly broke the silence.

Blood spilled from Carter Slade’s mouth.

Slowly...

Painfully...

He pushed himself upright.

Every rifle snapped back toward him.

"Contact!"

The operators reacted on instinct.

Before Evenson could stop them, another deafening volley erupted.

Seventy more rounds tore into Carter Slade.

The old man was blown flat onto his back again.

Evenson’s raised hand froze awkwardly halfway through the motion.

"..."

He sighed.

Looking first at Carter Slade, who now resembled an unusually determined pincushion, then at the operators already slamming fresh magazines into their rifles, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Gentlemen."

"As trained professionals..."

"Could we perhaps be just a little less jumpy?"

"Yes... sir."

The team leader answered with visible embarrassment.

To be fair, these operators weren’t inexperienced.

Most had served at the Mjolnir containment site.

They’d seen enhanced individuals before.

None of that experience, however, had prepared them for a man who stood back up after absorbing over a hundred rifle rounds.

Frankly...

They weren’t convinced he wasn’t some kind of undead monster.

Maybe that explained the insistence on sunlight.

For a moment, even Evenson wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation.

Fortunately, Carter Slade spoke first.

His voice was weak.

"This..."

"...is sacred ground."

"What do you want here?"

There was a deep weariness behind every word.

It wasn’t difficult to understand why.

He’d been taking a nap in his own home.

Then strangers demolished it.

He fired one defensive shot.

They answered with over a hundred bullets.

Then the man who ordered the attack called his name.

He tried to respond.

They rewarded him with another seventy rounds.

Anyone would sound exhausted after that.

Evenson remained unmoved.

"Sacred ground?"

He crouched beside the old rider.

"A sacred place..."

"...harboring a man who ran from his debts."

"No matter how many years pass..."

"A debt remains a debt."

"Carter Slade."

The old man lifted his head.

"...He sent you."

It wasn’t a question.

Evenson chuckled.

"You tell me."

Carter Slade almost laughed despite himself.

He was over a hundred and fifty years old.

Time had claimed every ordinary creditor he’d ever known.

Only one debtor could still come collecting after all these years.

Mephisto.

"You won’t find it."

"Oh?"

Evenson looked unconcerned.

He gestured toward one of the operators.

"Bring me the tools."

The soldier returned moments later carrying five old digging tools.

Carter Slade had spent the last few seconds muttering over and over,

"You won’t find it..."

"You won’t..."

The moment he saw what the soldier was carrying...

He fell silent.

Evenson studied the five tools thoughtfully.

His hand hovered over each in turn as though choosing between identical playing cards.

Carter Slade watched every movement with growing despair.

Finally...

Evenson selected one.

"...This one."

Carter Slade closed his eyes.

His shoulders slumped.

Without another word, Evenson snapped the wooden handle across the gravestone.

Crack.

Instead of solid wood...

A hollow compartment split open.

A weathered parchment scroll slid into his waiting hand.

Evenson’s eyes brightened.

"Well."

"That was easier than expected."

He slowly unrolled it.

"The Contract of San Venganza."

Carter Slade struggled desperately to stand.

"You can’t take it!"

He managed only a few staggering steps before collapsing back onto one knee.

Evenson smiled.

"Stop me."

"You can’t."

"There’s a reason I came here at noon."

"Carter Slade..."

"The Rider."

Melinda’s eyes widened.

"Rider?"

"He’s a Ghost Rider?"

"The previous one," Evenson corrected.

"About a hundred and fifty years ago, he accepted Mephisto’s bargain and became the Ghost Rider."

"Then, when the time came to fulfill his end of the deal..."

"He ran."

Evenson’s voice hardened.

"I have little respect for people who break contracts."

"You know nothing about that bargain!"

Carter Slade shouted.

"I couldn’t let Mephisto reclaim it!"

"I’ve carried this curse all these years to keep that contract out of the Devil’s hands!"

"Then you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place!"

Evenson’s rebuke cut through the cemetery.

"If you make a bargain..."

"You honor it."

"Now your decision has created trouble for everyone else."

He stopped himself before saying more.

There was no point venting his frustration.

As far as he was concerned, had Carter Slade fulfilled the original agreement, today’s mess might never have existed.

"He’ll turn this world into Hell!"

Carter Slade growled.

"If he gets that contract..."

Evenson looked at him with unmistakable pity.

"No."

"I think Mephisto just wants dessert."

He tucked the scroll safely away.

"You understand far less about this world than you think."

"If someone truly wanted to turn Earth into Hell..."

"This contract wouldn’t even be enough to begin."

Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the convoy.

Melinda followed.

The bait was secured.

Now...

It was time to build the trap.

Just before climbing into the SUV, Evenson spoke without looking back.

"Treasure your next transformation."

"It’ll be your last."

"And..."

"You’re not my opponent."

Carter Slade remained where he had fallen.

Only as sunset approached did enough strength return for him to struggle painfully to his feet.

He stood silently among the graves.

Should he use his final transformation himself...

Or entrust everything to the new Ghost Rider?

He had barely begun weighing the choice when a chill swept across his back.

He spun around.

A man soaked from head to toe stood silently behind him.

Beside him appeared another figure in a long black coat, his face pale with an unhealthy bluish tint.

Neither wasted time with introductions.

They rushed him together.

Fists started flying immediately.

"Old man!"

"Where’s the Contract?"

"Talk!"

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