Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Blackheart had a problem.

Being the son of Mephisto, ruler of Hell, sounded impressive.

In practice, it meant spending eternity as the prince.

Every demon bowed to him.

Every lesser devil flattered him.

Life was comfortable.

Powerful.

Privileged.

But no matter how much influence he accumulated, one fact never changed.

Someone still sat above him.

There was only one throne.

And Mephisto showed absolutely no intention of vacating it.

Blackheart had spent longer than he cared to admit wishing his father would finally die.

Unfortunately, Mephisto possessed one deeply irritating quality.

He simply refused to.

The ancient Devil Lord wasn’t slowing down, wasn’t weakening, and certainly wasn’t preparing for retirement.

For an heir apparent...

There were few fates more frustrating.

Eventually Blackheart reached the obvious conclusion.

If waiting didn’t work...

He would rebel.

The problem was that rebelling against Mephisto was suicide.

There was no army large enough.

No ambush clever enough.

No conspiracy subtle enough.

Against the ruler of Hell, every rebellion ended the same way.

With the rebels reduced to ash.

So Blackheart chose a different path.

Recently he’d learned that Mephisto had suffered an embarrassing setback on Earth.

Not only had one of his investments slipped beyond his grasp...

The Contract of San Venganza, containing a thousand damned souls, had disappeared.

Blackheart immediately recognized the opportunity.

He slipped away from Hell without permission.

His plan was simple.

Recover the contract.

Claim the thousand souls.

Transform San Venganza into a fragment of Hell itself.

Build his own power in secret.

And when turmoil finally erupted in Hell...

Strike.

If no turmoil ever came?

Then he’d rule his little kingdom on Earth instead.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it beat waiting forever.

Unfortunately, almost as soon as he arrived on Earth and recruited his three elemental followers, Mephisto found him.

Apparently sneaking away from home was a skill the Prince of Hell had never mastered.

His father berated him mercilessly before informing him that a Ghost Rider had already been dispatched to drag his wayward son back where he belonged.

Blackheart accelerated his plans.

Only to discover his intelligence was hopelessly outdated.

One hundred and fifty years wasn’t long by demonic standards.

Apparently it was plenty of time for humanity to rearrange everything.

While searching for the contract, he’d repeatedly clashed with the Ghost Rider.

Two of his three followers had already fallen.

Only one remained.

Then, quite unexpectedly, his luck seemed to improve.

He finally tracked the contract to an old cemetery.

The Ghost Rider also vanished from his trail.

Perhaps the flaming skeleton had finally lost a fight.

Blackheart certainly wasn’t complaining.

Then he found Carter Slade.

He beat the old Rider senseless.

Only to receive an answer he hadn’t expected.

The battered old man shouted through bloodied teeth,

"Look at me!"

"Do I look like I still have the contract?"

Blackheart straightened his coat.

"Then where is it?"

"...Someone took it."

"Who?"

"I don’t know."

It was the truth.

The attackers had all worn tactical gear and masks.

Carter Slade had never seen a single face.

Blackheart wasn’t convinced.

"Oh?"

"You’ve become stubborn."

He kicked the old man hard enough to send him rolling across the dirt.

"Talk."

"I don’t know!"

Another kick.

"Talk!"

"I really don’t know!"

Carter Slade cried out in pain.

"I only know..."

"...they were working for your father."

Blackheart paused.

"...The Ghost Rider?"

Had that flaming skeleton decided to steal the contract before he could?

"No."

Carter Slade shook his head.

"The Ghost Rider always works alone."

"This was a team."

Blackheart rubbed his chin.

"Then where is the Rider?"

"I almost miss him."

Carter Slade narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want with him?"

Blackheart smiled.

"I want him to help me find the contract."

"He won’t obey you."

"We’ll see."

Blackheart’s smile widened.

"If I hold his heart in my hand..."

"...he won’t have much choice."

The following day.

Mjolnir Research Facility.

"You still think I went too far?"

Evenson and Melinda walked side by side through one of the facility’s corridors.

"I do."

Melinda answered without hesitation.

"Carter Slade is basically a good man."

From her perspective, the former Ghost Rider had sacrificed a century and a half of his life to keep the Contract of San Venganza out of Mephisto’s hands.

That sounded remarkably close to heroism.

Evenson disagreed.

"People who make bargains with devils rarely qualify as saints."

He folded his arms behind his back.

"Carter Slade was once a Texas Ranger."

"Honest."

"Capable."

"But also greedy."

"Greedy enough to end up imprisoned and awaiting execution."

He glanced at Melinda.

"Guess who offered him a way out."

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

"The point is," she said quietly, "he spent the rest of his life trying to keep Hell from reaching Earth."

"Because he made a foolish decision."

Evenson shrugged.

"If he’d simply honored the original agreement and handed the contract to Mephisto..."

"The Lord of Hell would’ve taken those thousand souls back to Hell."

"Eaten them."

"The San Venganza affair would’ve ended there."

"None of today’s problems would exist."

Melinda frowned.

"You really believe that?"

"I do."

"And even if Mephisto suddenly decided he wanted something much bigger..."

Evenson stopped outside a large room.

"...he still couldn’t succeed."

"He might avoid the attention of Earth’s sorcerers."

"He might avoid the Church."

"But he’d never avoid..."

He pointed through the doorway.

"...them."

Melinda followed his finger.

Inside the room sat Thor, Jane, Selvig, and Darcy.

She understood immediately.

"Asgard."

"Exactly."

"If Mephisto caused enough trouble on Earth..."

"Odin would personally shove him back into Hell."

Evenson stepped inside.

"How are you settling in, Your Highness?"

Thor looked up.

"Just call me Thor."

"So far..."

"It’s been comfortable."

"Everyone here has treated us well."

That was hardly surprising.

Coulson had repeatedly warned the entire facility not to accidentally trigger an interstellar diplomatic incident.

"So."

Evenson nodded.

"That’s good to hear."

He studied Thor’s expression for a moment.

"But you don’t look particularly happy."

"Worried?"

"I’m thinking."

Thor answered simply.

Evenson blinked.

Thor... thinking?

That was unexpectedly encouraging.

"Care to share?"

"We might be able to help."

Thor chuckled.

"You?"

He shook his head.

Then his eyes settled on Evenson.

"...Actually."

"You might."

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