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Ghost Rider. Chapter 42. Becoming a monster
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 17:07:37 +0000 UTC4440 words.
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In the throne room of the hellish castle—where chains usually rattled and the air reeked of sulfur—the scent of cinnamon and pine lingered today. In the center stood a Christmas tree, alive as if torn straight from a Norwegian forest, draped in sparkling garlands.
Even Hell has Christmas. Especially when the Blaze family rules it.
Mary, dressed in green pajamas covered in blazing phoenixes, tore into the wrapping paper with childlike excitement—like she was six years old again.
“A bike?!” she squealed, instantly hopping on. “I haven’t pedaled since middle school!”
She spun circles around the tree, laughing brightly, her hair whipping like fire.
Cain lounged back in a creaky chair, dragged over to the table laden with turkey and demonic canapés, and lazily sparked his lighter against his gift.
“Sweet,” he purred, taking a drag from a high-end cigar with a tenderness like he was kissing it.
Thick smoke curled toward the ceiling. On any other day, Jane would’ve scolded him and launched into a lecture on respecting others, but this cigar set was her gift.
“Just this once,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.
Jane had been the soul of this Christmas—planned to the smallest detail. She’d hung the garlands herself, filling the castle with light. She’d spent hours analyzing tastes and habits so that each gift would bring genuine joy.
For John, the greatest gift was Jane herself—in a short crimson dress trimmed with white fur, like Santa’s... only far more tempting.
Sitting on the couch with Jane curled against him, John breathed in the scent of homemade cookies from her and felt an overwhelming sense of comfort.
“And now, a gift from Uncle Cain,” Mary said, tearing open a sloppily wrapped bundle of newspapers. Inside was a brass knuckle. “Uhh… thanks, I guess, but... why?”
“Listen up, kiddo,” Cain said in a mock-serious tone. “One day, some bee’s gonna try to fly into your flower. But you don’t have to let him. Grab this knuckle, say no—and your words’ll hit harder.”
“I honestly don’t know what’s weirder,” Mary said, slipping on the brass knuckle thoughtfully. “That you, of all people, are giving me a puberty talk… or that the advice actually makes sense.”
“Listen to Uncle Cain. He don’t talk crap,” the giant grinned, cigar between his teeth. “Someday, we’ll hit Vegas and light it up with all the chicks.”
“Nope, nope, too far,” Mary crossed her arms in an X. “Not ready for the ‘switching orientations’ lecture.”
John smiled while the others argued, joked, and laughed. Just a good day—the kind you treasure in memories.
“Hold up—what?” Mary ducked under the tree, crawling back and forth. “We’re missing a gift! Daaad!”
“She’s right,” Cain stubbed his cigar in an ashtray. “Didn’t find mine either.”
Jane pulled slightly away from John.
“I didn’t find yours, either,” she said with suspicion. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get us anything.”
“There are gifts. For each of you. But they’re… specific,” John looked away. “They’d kill the holiday vibe. I was gonna give them tomorrow.”
“You what?!” Mary leapt onto the couch beside him. “Now I have to see it! ‘Specific’ gifts? That’s way too intriguing!”
“Man, I’ve been through Hell,” Cain smirked. “Nothing can surprise me. So gimme my gift—or I’m wreckin’ your whole crib.”
“Seconded!” Mary shouted. “Dad, you don’t even know how annoying I can be!”
“Sweetheart, gifts are meant to be opened in the morning,” Jane said as she stood and smoothed out her Christmas skirt. “Tomorrow just won’t feel the same.”
“Fine,” John muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He opened a golden, regal portal—one only a king and his family could pass through.
They shifted to the heart of Hell’s lower circle, tens of thousands of leagues beneath the earth. Hovering above an ancient lava pit was a marvel of technomagic—a flying beast of metal and spellwork, with vibranium scales and uru light glowing beneath its skin.
The ship’s door opened, releasing a wash of blue light and floating discs.
"Welcome," John said, stepping onto one of the floating discs as it lifted him gently, like a hand. "To our new home—the Midnight Ship."
Inside, the ship held countless compartments. A home module with a TV and kitchen. A lab module. An engineering module. Empty sections that could quickly be built out as needed. It had everything for survival, exploration, and travel. Cyber-golems bustled about, ready to serve and construct—helpers far more efficient than goblins.
"It's not lived-in yet," John ran his hand along the silver wall. "But that's easily fixed. Curtains, wallpaper—hell, we could plant an entire garden if we wanted." [If I can pull it off, I’ll plant a golden apple seed here. Our own Yggdrasil.]
"You talk like this is already our home," Cain eyed the technomagical kitchenware with suspicion. "I thought the castle was home."
"It was always just a temporary shelter," John sighed. "The problem with a castle is everyone knows where to find you."
[It’s a miracle Mammon didn’t show up. He’s too busy waging war on the neighbors to bother with us—for now.]
"And we've got a lot of enemies, and more coming every year," John said, activating the engines through a control panel.
The Midnight Ship engaged its invisibility mode and rocketed through the underground tunnels.
"I decided we need a mobile base," John continued. "Somewhere enemies can never track us down."
"So we’re leaving Hell?" There was a hint of approval in Jane’s voice.
"Not yet," John cut in. "Only an idiot would throw away the perks of the crown. But from now on, my astral double will sit on the throne. We should avoid showing up at the castle too often." [They don’t know what I sacrifice for them. My double’s stuck on that throne 24/7, and the best entertainment he gets is talking to the Hellstrom twins.]
"I like the change," Mary said unexpectedly. "A castle's cool and all, but I’m more of a road trip girl. Always moving, meeting new people, discovering new stuff—that’s what I love!"
"Thanks for the support," John wrapped an arm around her. "What about the rest of you?"
"Darling," Jane stepped under his other arm. "I’ll always stand by your side."
[Emma was right. Jane’s a miracle of a wife. I’ll never let her go.]
"This shack got a TV?" Cain grumbled.
"Best satellite antenna in the solar system," John smirked. "Picks up channels from other worlds."
"Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!" Cain gave a thumbs-up. "I’m in!"
[That went smoother than expected. I was ready to be accused again of keeping secrets until the last moment, but I guess they’ve just accepted that’s how I am.]
"Giving us a ship is unusual," Jane nodded. "But I still don’t see why you wanted to wait until tomorrow, darling."
"The ship’s not the gift," John said. "The gift is inside."
They descended into the science wing. There were no elevators—everyone on board could fly.
Behind metallic curtains lay a lab that looked more like a necromancer’s nightmare. Thousands of ghosts—pale, twisted, half-transparent—floated in tight clusters, like a frozen cloud of pain. Ectoplasm dripped from their gaping mouths. In the center stood a table with a blueprint. One ghost floated over and marked something in pencil, and the rest immediately stirred, swarmed to look, processed the new information, and returned to "sleep mode."
"This is what I think it is, isn’t it?" Jane crossed her arms tightly.
"Yes," John said coldly. "These are the souls of sinners. I rounded up the best scientists and mages in all of Hell."
Cain and Mary quietly stepped aside, sensing the incoming storm.
"You used the Penance Stare! You broke their will!" Jane raised her voice. "You turned them into slaves!"
"I see it as a deal," he shrugged. "They complete one project for me, and in return, they get a fast track to reincarnation. Seems fair to me."
"You fried their brains!" she pointed at the crowd of drooling oligophrenics. "Can’t you see how awful this is?!"
"I did it for you. For all of us," John looked her in the eyes. "Our safety is at stake. I can't risk some bitter builder hiding a bomb in the wall. I had to make them... harmless."
The wielder of Mjolnir clenched her fists silently, nails digging into her palms. Her eyes didn’t hold anger—only deep, heavy disappointment. The conversation wasn't over. Just postponed.
"This is creepy," Mary wrinkled her nose. "Why are they just standing there like that?"
"It’s their thinking hive," John explained. "I feed them a task, and a thousand minds buzz until a blueprint is born. Then it goes to the engineering module, where robots build it. The harder the order, the longer it takes."
"What are they working on now?" Mary leaned against the glass.
"Our future armor. I gave them a directive: technomagical suits, forged from a vibranium-uru alloy, capable of changing appearance and functioning like a second skin," John smirked. "Next to us, Iron Man will look like a farmer with a bucket on his head."
"I take it back!" Mary squealed, hopping with excitement. "This isn’t creepy—it’s awesome!"
[I knew I could win her over with fashion.]
"Come on, eggheads! Think faster!" Mary tapped her glittery nail on the glass. "I already know how I’m posing in my suit for Instagram!"
"Calculations take time," John shook his head. "I gave them a sample of Colossus's steel skin and a wild symbiote I bought on the black market. That sped things up a lot, but not enough. Scanners monitor ghost activity. The dullest ones get sent off for reincarnation and are replaced. Maybe the next necromancer used to work on a similar project when they were alive."
[Hell’s steady supply of sinners is very convenient. And since I purge useless thugs from Hell daily, my soul intake’s higher than on the other Circles.]
"You know what I just realized?" Cain burst out laughing. "Eggheads suck even after death!"
John continued the tour, showing a dozen more windows, each with thousands of ghosts desperately trying to turn ideas into designs. All the easy tasks were long finished. What remained were either cosmic-scale projects or enhancements to existing ones—always several thousand ghosts working on upgrades to the Midnight Ship, especially its security systems.
[Loki makes me paranoid.]
They stopped outside a room with no ghosts at all. Inside, magical runes hummed faintly from medical terminals.
"We’ll be storming Asgard soon," John stood before four tanks covered in black cloth. "In any war, victory depends on information. And right now, we’re losing. The enemy knows everything about our abilities—how I freeze, how Jane strikes with lightning. We need an ace no one knows about. And I’m giving it to you."
John pulled the black cloth away. Thick cables snaked into the tanks. Inside, violet fluids bubbled, and within each tank floated something monstrous—like Lovecraft’s nightmares made flesh. A heart studded with horn-like growths. A cerebellum pulsing to an alien rhythm. Glowing capillaries. A kidney covered in twitching tentacles.
Mary recoiled in disgust, stepping back as if the stench could leak through the glass.
"This is... seriously gross."
"You know what I found out?" John’s voice turned silky. "The legendary X-Gene can be extracted like an organ… and transplanted."
Jane didn’t just look at him—she raised an eyebrow like he’d just suggested boiling babies for soup.
"They’re from criminals," John added quickly. "My Zarathos Code wouldn’t let me mutilate good people. And your code should be pleased too. I took the mutations from criminals—and gave them to prison. Think of it as disarmament."
That last argument hit home. Jane sighed but didn’t object.
"Turns out, the largest concentration of the legendary X-Gene is on our home planet. I had to do some running around to collect the best batch," John smirked, remembering how easy it had been with teleportation. "And that’s not all. I passed the mutations through Terrigen Mists—the same stuff that gives Inhumans their powers."
The air seemed to turn colder.
"Now they’ve mutated again. Evolution. Or a mutation within a mutation."
"You say that like it’s a good thing," Cain snorted, loud and theatrical. "You wanna stuff us with mutant snot and turn us into X-Clowns. What, you think I’m Chucky on steroids?"
"I thought you made peace with your brother and had no more beef with mutants," John tilted his head.
"Chucky turned out to be a decent guy, and I’m fine tolerating mutants—but why the hell would I become one? Next thing you know, I’ll be on TV with him preaching mutant rights?"
"Think of mutation as a weapon," John said diplomatically. "It’s like a hammer. Just because you’re holding one doesn’t mean you gotta wear a hard hat and head to a construction site. Just trust me on this. The X-Gene is one of the rarest things in the universe. It shouldn’t be wasted."
"I once told you I’d go along with any of your gangster plans," Cain sighed. "Fine. Show me what powers you got lined up for us."
"Ladies first," John winked at Mary. "Your mutation is luck manipulation. After exposure to Terrigen Mists, it upgraded—bad luck for enemies. In other words, your dice always roll double sixes, and theirs double ones."
"Wait, so what does that make me?" Mary blinked in confusion. "A jackpot-winning tiger?"
"From now on, you’re our lucky charm," John looked her in the eyes. "You’ll bring us fortune."
He turned to Jane.
"Your mutation is black hole generation," John gestured to a tank holding a heart that looked carved from the fabric of space. "You’re educated—you know the possibilities: instant travel, space distortion, pocket universes, maybe even time jumps."
[Total deception. I’d have taken it for myself, but I’ve got a better option—and I trust Jane completely. If she were capable of betrayal, she wouldn’t be worthy of Mjolnir.]
"I... I don’t even know how to use that," Jane whispered, staring at the tank. "That’s not just a power. That’s a monstrous responsibility."
As expected from her. Not "Wow! I’m gonna blow up the universe!" but "I have to be careful." Jane was more than worthy of this power.
"And for our big guy—cloning mutation."
"Dude, what the hell?" Cain threw up his arms. "The girls get awesome powers, and I get clones? I already know how to do that!"
"Don’t compare astral projections to real clones," John replied in a teacherly tone. "The spell creates copies of your soul and divides your strength by ten. The mutation makes full physical clones—flesh and bone—that can interact with the real world and retain your full power. After exposure to Terrigen Mists, each clone gets a random mutation. Just imagine—a thousand Juggernauts behind you, and you’re leading them like a general."
"So I’m, what, Freakin’ Man-Army?" Cain chuckled, though for a moment, a glint appeared in his eyes—not joy, but hunger. The kind that flares up right before a fight. "Alright. I’m in."
"And you?" Jane nodded at the last tank, where a cerebellum floated like it was woven from shadow. "What did you pick for yourself?"
"Psionic powers," John grinned. "Post-Terrigen, they evolve into precognition."
"Psionic powers means telepathy," Jane said flatly.
Everyone gave John a judgmental look.
"I can’t believe I have to explain this," John rolled his eyes. "Did you all forget something? Our artifacts make us completely immune to telepathy. I can’t get into your heads."
"Then we’re good," Cain chuckled and gave him a thumbs-up.
The operation to become a mutant took five minutes. The ghosts had already built a transplant device calibrated for super-soldier bodies. It didn’t even hurt.
///
A few weeks passed in testing their new abilities in a special section of the Midnight Ship.
For John, it was the easiest. Earth had no shortage of mutant telepaths. Asking Charles or Emma for help? No way—they’d charge a price. There was a free alternative: capture a telepathic supervillain and, after the Penance Stare, extract a full mental package of telepathic skills.
After downloading ten years of practice in one second, holding back was impossible.
John zipped around the planet, visiting masters of every field. He became a master of all sports, a champion of every martial art, fluent in every language, a super-spy, a hacker, a doctor. All wired into his reflexes.
And his greedy soul still wasn’t satisfied.
He made a tour through Hell, absorbing all the magical knowledge from the sinful soul of a fae queen, and the technical expertise of a dwarven king.
Now his mind was like a computer loaded with terabytes of data—ready to use at any time.
[Screw school. Telepathy for the win.]
The others didn’t have it so easy.
Jane’s power turned out to be too overwhelming—and there were no manuals or instructors for creating black holes. She experimented step by step. She couldn’t risk creating a trap where time didn’t pass at all.
Mary’s power came with rules. Limited charges, specific range. Luck turned out to be finicky, not almighty. Basically, for a critical success to happen, it had to at least be theoretically possible. You couldn’t jump in a puddle and expect the sun to go out.
Practice showed that luck worked best with magic. When reading a spell produced three fireballs instead of one—now that was cool.
Bad luck only worked with focus on an enemy. Spells would fizzle, birds would crap on their heads, weapons would break. Downside: limited charges meant you couldn’t be unlucky forever.
Cain had problems. The clones spawned instantly and were fully loyal to him—but Cyttorak didn’t recognize them and wouldn’t share his power. A bummer, but it was somewhat offset by the fact that each clone had a unique mutation. The catch: totally random. One clone might have telekinesis, the next might just sprout useless wings. Contact with Mary increased the number of useful mutations.
One day, John and Jane were discussing a book as they walked into the training block—where Cain was actively fighting his clones... and losing.
"Time-out!" John shouted.
A clone with gravity manipulation released the original. Cain hit the ground with a dull thud. The clones dissolved.
"Aren’t you ashamed?" John helped him up. "You just got your ass kicked by your own clones!"
"They got lucky today," Cain waved it off. "When there’s no cheating, I mop the floor with them."
"That’s not how it should be. They’re just mutants. You’re the Juggernaut!" John exclaimed. "I’ve noticed that ever since the fight with Thor, you’ve completely stopped progressing."
"You mean that magic mumbo-jumbo?" Cain wrinkled his nose like he smelled rotten meat. "All that drum-circle Tarot card nonsense—ain’t my thing."
"Magic is overrated."
John’s statement was so shocking, Cain stood there with his mouth open.
"Dude, are you sick?" Cain asked, confused. "You’ve been all about becoming a wizard since day one. Dragging me to libraries. I saw your eyes light up when we opened Belasco’s spell chest!"
"That was before I understood magic," John said coldly. "And realized its limits. All magic is a chain of debts. The more power you take—the less of you remains."
"What do you mean? Twist your fingers and recite some rhymes — dumb, but not hard."
"We literally animated a cartoon for you to understand how magic works!" Jane flared up. "And now you're like, 'just twist your fingers and boom!' If you’d studied more, you’d know our inner energy only grants access to basic spells! For higher-level magic, you have to find external power sources!"
"In short, every gesture and word is a call to something else. The demons whispered it already — Strange is up to his eyeballs in debt," John said with a grimace. "An Archmage isn’t a genius — he’s a contract collector. A hundred deals, a hundred leeches, draining your soul. And I don’t rent out my soul, Cain. I won’t let anyone in my family do it either."
Jane took his hand.
"Heh, I’ve always said books are for chumps!" Cain smirked and flexed his biceps. "Real men work with their hands."
"You don’t work hard enough," Jane said flatly, visibly wounded. "We discovered two months ago that Cyttorak can manifest through the earth element. Stone walls, earthquakes, quicksand — the possibilities are endless! And in all that time, you’ve only learned how to summon crystals?"
Cain flinched. His face flushed red. Slowly, he clenched his fists — the joints cracked like gunshots. Jane didn’t budge, meeting his glare with defiance.
John stepped between them in a flash.
"We have two infinite power sources: the artifact and the mutation. That’s what we’ll keep developing. Jane, show him what you’ve learned."
She touched the hammer, and the air around her trembled. A moment later, she was gone — not even a shadow remained. Only the faint scent of ozone marked her presence.
"Invisibility," John explained. "As you can see — no incantations. It’s her personal power."
"Well, lucky her," Cain grunted. "I get clones with invisibility too sometimes."
"That’s Mjolnir’s power," Jane reappeared, yanking the keys from his pocket with a flick of her hand. "And this is Mjolnir too. Thanks to electromagnetic control, I can turn myself into a magnet."
Jane was mastering new aspects of Mjolnir so fast because she had a library in her head — filled with every textbook on electromagnetism and astrophysics.
"Now do you get it, man?" John smirked. "You’re losing to your clones because you haven’t unlocked the full potential of your element. You can spend years studying geology — or I can upload a library into your head right now."
Despite all the advantages, Cain stood his ground — childhood trauma held him back.
Jane and Mary accepted the mind-link easily and developed by leaps and bounds. They remained themselves, but now had full mental libraries and super-spy training in their heads.
John kept repeating to Cain that he wouldn’t read his thoughts, that this was for the good of the team — but the stubborn giant refused to listen.
Still, John wouldn't be John if he couldn’t talk someone into something.
"Then create a clone with telepathy and let him build a memory package for you."
Cain accepted that option. It took much longer, and his mind didn’t work like a computer — but there was no other way.
He also uploaded all existing military tactics and basic knowledge of every superpower, so now his clones didn’t just stand around confused after spawning, trying to figure out their mutation — they charged into battle right away.
///
John once again led the team into the science division. They entered a room with a pressure chamber.
"You know what the weakness of all gods and devils is?" John began solemnly. "They’ve lost their mortality. Became wandering ghosts — and they’re proud of it. You can’t make them bleed, their bones never ache, they’re immune to poison. The only thing that hurts them is magic that strikes the soul. But here’s the twist: our flesh and skin shield us from supernatural forces — like rubber insulates from electricity. Not a cure-all, but a major advantage in this war. And I suggest we make that advantage even greater."
John flipped the switch. Green cosmic energy began to flow through the tubes.
"This machine will make us the strongest mortals alive," John announced. "Survivability in any environment — from solar flares to nuclear blasts. All we have to do is undergo exposure to a mix of cosmic and gamma radiation."
"The first created the Fantastic Four," Mary chimed in, proud of her trivia. "The second made the Hulk. Ugh! I don’t wanna be green!"
"Let’s be honest — we’ll turn into horrifying monsters," John said, spreading his arms. "But in a few hours, we’ll be ourselves again, retaining all the benefits. In the next room, there’s the Evolution Machine — a blend of Kree and Skrull tech. We’ll evolve until we regain our human forms. Everything's calculated. The experiments are done. No danger. Trust me."
"Are you sure?" Jane asked sharply. "We’ve already mutated once — why do it again?"
"I’m doing this for us," John admitted. "We’re walking into something dangerous. I won’t forgive myself if I don’t do everything to help us survive."
The Midnight Suns changed into unstable-molecule suits and stepped into the pressure chamber.
It roared like a volcano, instantly flooding with emerald light. The screaming was muffled behind unstable-molecule walls — even metal cracked under the strain. When it finally fell silent, what stepped out of the capsule weren’t humans. They were gray titans with eyes like inky voids and claws like broken meteorites.
"Can’t even go out on Halloween with a face like this," Cain grumbled, staring at his mouth full of jagged teeth.
A quick test showed they’d gained instant adaptation. Their skin mirrored lasers, muscles swelled when strength was needed.
"I want to be human again!" Mary wailed in a monstrous baritone.
"What’s the rush?" John grinned. "We’re real monsters now! When else are we gonna get a chance like this? Let’s play some monsterball!"
"I don’t want to be a monster!" Mary cried in that booming, alien voice, clinging to Jane like a child to its mother. "I’ll fix this with Phoenix fire, I swear! I will!" Her shoulders shook with sobs, as if even the power inside her couldn’t contain her terror.
[Daughters are never easy...]
The Midnight Suns lay down in massive capsules, as if designed for titans. Under yellow beams, accelerated evolution began — though the process could still be sped up.
They separated their souls from their bodies and stepped out of the capsules. Jane waved her hand — and reality groaned. The air shimmered like a mirror underwater, and the dials on the machines spun wildly. Time inside the chamber tore forward like a runaway train. Their bodies began to transform — claws turned to fingers, hide to skin, fangs to teeth.
As soon as it ended, Mary was the first to rush back into her body.
They were human again — just a few inches taller. Absolute adaptation had evolved into absorption of any energy source, boosting all attributes. They were like Superman, only endlessly scalable and rechargeable — not just by the sun. They had even gained flight.
Spilling their blood was now nearly impossible — and even if someone found their "kryptonite," a backup defense would trigger: their body would become living elemental force.
A timer clicked in the distance — their symbiotic armor, designed to become a second skin, was ready.
"Self-development phase: ten out of ten," John said, clenching fists strong enough to bend titanium. "Now it's time to collect a few debts from Earth."
