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Superior Ghost Rider. Chapter 32. X-School
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 13:01:44 +0000 UTCFive miles before they reached the school, the landscape suddenly changed. Tents lined the road, campfires smoked with kettles hanging above them. Laundry hung between trees, and a jangly, off-key guitar played from old speakers. The air was thick with smoke — and something else. Something sweet and cloying.
“Woodstock resurrected?” John glanced out the window at the sea of tents, green smoke curling behind them, and the relentless guitar racket.
“No idea what's goin’ on, but I’m startin’ to like it here!” Cain smirked, eyeing the topless women strolling between the tents. “Hey, check this — what if we brought a couple of chicks on board?”
“You even try dragging them into our home, and I’ll burn you,” Jane said, her voice crackling with thunder — just like the lightning dancing in her eyes.
Cain wasn’t listening. He was staring at dozens of boobs. Big ones, small ones, pink nipples, cocoa-colored…
[Hard to keep your eyes on the road now...]
“These aren’t hippies,” said Mary, scrolling through her phone. “They’re part of the ‘Gen X In Everyone’ movement. They believe that if you live near mutants and breathe the same air, you’ll turn into one too.”
“Why the hell are they naked?” John winced as a pantsless man strolled by.
“The article says they’re ‘breathing through every pore in their skin.’ Supposedly increases their chances of mutating.”
“As someone with a medical degree,” Jane said flatly, “I can assure you that’s complete nonsense.”
“The world’s gone nuts over superpowers,” Rider grumbled. “The Baxter Building’s surrounded by computer geeks. Hippies camping out around the X-school. Kinda scared to imagine what we’ll see outside Avengers Mansion.”
The madness outside intensified. More tents. More of that very specific weed smell. Barefoot kids darted around the half-naked adults — strangely quiet kids, with blank, distant stares. There was no freedom in this scene. Just something… broken.
“Poor kids…” Jane frowned. “This isn’t just delusion anymore. It’s mass psychopathy.”
The Xavier School was surrounded by a tall fence topped with an electric grid. The iron gates looked unbreakable. This was the hotspot — the crowd thickest here. Naked people were literally lying across the road.
“Get the hell outta the way!” John yelled through the open window and leaned on the horn. “I swear I’ll run you over!”
Some scattered from the path of the metal beast, but a lot of dumbasses just lay there, staring.
“Jane,” he turned to her, tired. “Blow them off the road, will you?”
“Wait!” Cain jumped to his feet. “I got a better idea!”
Juggernaut stepped out casually, like on a morning stroll. Then—kick, grab, hurl. Hippies flew like bowling pins before a living battering ram.
“That works too,” John shrugged and rolled the vehicle forward.
The Hell Train stopped at the gate. Below it was a small intercom with a button. No one felt like getting out.
“Cain,” Rider stuck his head out the window, “hit the buzzer, will you?”
“I’d rather smash the gate,” Juggernaut muttered, tossing another hippie aside, “but fine. Gotta be polite.”
He pressed the button. A green light blinked, camera and mic engaged — but silence.
Cain didn’t miss a beat.
“Yo, Chuckie! What’s up, man? Get your bony ass out here and open the damn gate for your favorite bro, or I’ll break your freakin’ school.”
The automatic gates swung open.
The Hell Train rolled onto the school grounds. Juggernaut leapt into the open door. Jane raised her hammer and sent a gust of wind blasting the hippies who tried to follow. The gates slammed shut behind them.
Cain returned to the cockpit — not alone. He was smugly holding two naked girls, arms around both. Across their stomachs, written in marker, were the words: “Want mutant babies.”
Mary closed her eyes, as if that could erase the image from her memory.
“Who the hell are they!?” Jane flared.
“My sex partners,” the giant said sultrily, glancing back at the girls. “Don’t mind the blonde — she’s just jealous there won’t be any sex for her tonight.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed with fury, like a sunset before a thunderstorm.
“Are you really a mutant?” one of the girls asked, eyeing Cain’s muscles like meat at a market.
“I’m better,” Juggernaut smirked. “I’m the brother of Charles Xavier himself!”
Not a single word was a lie…
The girls clung to him tighter.
“I’m ready to have your baby right now!” one of them gasped.
“Me first!” the other one grabbed Cain like a fangirl latching onto a rock star.
“Easy, ladies,” Cain said, gripping their butts. “There’s room for everyone in paradise.”
“I can’t listen to this!” Mary clamped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes. “Tap me when it’s over.”
John stepped on the gas. The Hell Train shot forward like a rocket, racing through the school’s expansive outer grounds.
[Just need to get there before Jane explodes]
The Hell Train stopped at the entrance. They were already being awaited at the stairs.
Professor X sat tall in his chair, chin raised. His smooth bald head reflected the sunlight like a shield of light.
Cyclops stood with clenched jaw and unreadable tension, like a battle dog waiting for the signal to strike.
And behind them stood about a dozen adult mutants whose names John could barely recall. All looked tense as coiled wires.
Ghost Rider killed the engine and reversed the infernal modifications on their vehicle. The mutants outside looked visibly surprised.
John and the team stepped out. Charles’s eyes were locked solely on Cain. The tension was off the charts.
“Already gathered the kids to protect your bony ass, huh?” Juggernaut licked his lips. “Been a while since I broke mutant bones. Especially like that dumbass with the metal skin. Shirt off, flexing like he’s dangerous.”
Everyone looked at Colossus — who, indeed, was shirtless. Sunlight gleamed off his literally steel abs.
“Look at you, chrome zucchini,” Cain cracked his knuckles, each fist the size of a watermelon. “Left to your ass, right to your throat — I’ll play you like an accordion at a funeral.”
What does a sweaty piece of steel look like? Exactly like Colossus did now.
“I’m kidding, damn! You should’ve seen your faces!” Cain burst out laughing. “Come on, what is this, some dumb stereotype? Just ‘cause I’m a supervillain doesn’t mean I’m here to unleash cringe chaos.”
[You already did, man...]
Thunderheart wasn’t even angry — it just hurt to watch how fast things spiraled.
Lady Phoenix buried her face in her hands, wishing she could sink into the earth from embarrassment.
Ghost Rider was just glad for his mask — no one could see his eye twitching.
The X-Men didn’t find anything funny.
“You’re laughing,” Cyclops said coolly, hand still hovering over his visor, “and I’m already calculating your flight path.”
Professor X raised a hand in a calming gesture.
“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Cain,” Charles said with dignity. “So what brings you here?”
“Don’t bother me, Charlie. Papa Cain’s got priorities,” he grunted, squeezing the two giggling girls like plush trophies. “As you can see, there's some serious sexual tension between me and the ladies.”
“Cain…” Thunderheart stepped forward, her voice trembling like lightning before it struck. “I swear, if you keep this circus going — I will knock you out.”
He just winked and walked off toward the school with the girls.
She gripped her hammer so tight the leather handle creaked.
“We’re gonna lock ourselves in a room and study anatomy,” Juggernaut said gallantly, holding the door open for the ladies. “Do not disturb. Unless you're a sexy mutant chick.”
Cain waggled his eyebrows at Jean Grey, but she pointedly turned away.
The main clown and his sidekicks left the stage.
Silence hung over the courtyard.
“What was that?” Storm finally asked.
“We don’t know either,” Mary sighed.
“Is he always like this?”
“Always,” Mary sighed louder.
A heavy pause hung in the air. Jane and Mary exchanged a glance, then both turned to John — like soldiers looking to their commander for a way through a minefield.
“Considering my friend’s burlesque performance, this will sound almost like a joke... but we came to help.”
“What kind of help are we talking about?” Charles asked calmly.
“Strange didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
[God, I hate that Doc sometimes...]
“Strange said you recently reached out to him for assistance,” John explained. “It’s a magical issue — and we can help.”
For a long second, the Professor just looked him in the eyes.
“I believe you,” he finally said.
[That was easy. Unrealistically easy.]
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
The gears turned in John’s mind. That kind of unconditional trust — especially after Juggernaut’s circus — made no logical sense.
Did the telepath just rake through their memories for confirmation? Possibly. John, Jane, and Cain all had resistance to telepathy, thanks to partial transformations. But Mary didn’t.
The Ghost Rider bit into the sins. Xavier hadn’t read anyone’s mind without permission for over fifteen years. Hm. The guy really did follow protocol.
Jean Grey? Last time she abused telepathy was before she even met the Professor.
In a blink, John skimmed the surface of everyone’s sins in the X-school.
No one had committed a psychic violation in the past five minutes.
“Mr. Xavier,” John met his gaze. “How can you trust me?”
“John!” Jane exclaimed.
“It’s all right, Miss Foster,” Charles gave her a soft smile. “As the leader of your own team, Mr. Blaze’s caution is justified.”
“You already know our names,” John narrowed his eyes.
“Same place I got confirmation of your mission.” Professor tilted his chin ever so slightly — like a chess player making a move. “I just contacted Doctor Strange telepathically. He passed on... memories. As vivid as a fresh photograph.”
No sin of lying clung to Xavier’s soul.
“I believe you.”
John and Charles exchanged a subtle smile — the kind shared by people who knew more than the others.
With Professor X’s approval, the atmosphere instantly lightened.
Mary declared she wanted to explore the place.
“The legendary school? This is so going in my stories,” she was already spinning her phone in her hands, ready to record every corner.
“Allow me to accompany you,” Beast offered.
“Whoa. Walking teddy bear in a tux. I love this place.”
“Right this way, young lady,” he said, giving his ear a feline twitch.
Jane said she needed to speak with Charles urgently. They headed off to his office.
John and Colossus went to a separate room with two chairs.
The conversation was short. Peter had a younger sister — Illyana. Also a mutant. She activated her X-Gene a few months ago. Recently, she disappeared from the school. No tech could find her.
“Do you have any of your sister’s belongings?” John laced his fingers into a steeple. “Something that’s clearly hers? Preferably something symbolic — something that screams Illyana.”
“I don’t know if this’ll do,” Colossus carefully took a matchbox from the locker. “It’s a lock of her hair. She gave it to me for luck, like a rabbit’s foot…”
John didn’t care about Russian traditions. He snatched the box and pulled out the pale blond hair. Perfect. Nothing worked better for tracking a person. And as a bonus, that hair would also lead him to the thief — and the M’Kraan Crystal.
“Who took my sister?” Peter muttered. “Can I hope she’s still alive?”
“Yeah,” John waved him off. “Now get out. I need to perform a complex magical ritual.”
The oversized worrywart left and shut the door behind him.
Ghost Rider leaned back like royalty and pulled out his phone.
Time to summon a demon.
"Yo, Daimon!"
"John?" Hellstrom’s voice oozed with tired disbelief. "Are you out of your damn mind?"
"Not quite. Just wondering how you're doing, my demon buddy. Still breaking hearts like usual?"
"I'm at the Hellfire Club. And yes, you're ruining my chances with the ladies."
John ignored the obvious hint.
"Why not hang at the Sanctum Sanctorum? More action among the mages, and the witches have better figures..."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!" Daimon shouted. "Thanks to your Dormammu stunt, I'm banned from the Sanctum!"
"Stop whining, you wimp. We’ve got a situation at the X-School — a student’s been kidnapped. Someone high up in Hell’s food chain. It’s solid intel. Get over here. I need you to whip up a tracking compass."
"Go to hell. I’m done working with you."
"Oh, Daimon… And here I thought you were a real hero who wouldn’t leave a girl trapped in the claws of Hell," John sighed. "Guess I’ll have to remind you — you still owe me."
"I owe you nothing! After what happened with Strange, we’re even!"
[Stubborn bastard. But I wouldn’t be me if I couldn’t squeeze a few debts out of people.]
“How’s your sister doing? Still the same royal pain in the ass?”
Silence fell. Thick and heavy, like hell-tar.
"What do you think she'll do to you when she finds out you’re goofing off instead of doing actual work?"
"You wouldn't dare!"
"I'm already calling her."
"Don't move! I’m on my way!"
Call ended.
[Yeah, I know I hit below the belt. But I’ve got no choice. I need help, and only a half-demon can pull this off.]
The ground in the yard trembled. Flames and brimstone burst from a pentagram-shaped crack. Out stepped one very pissed-off Daimon.
The X-Men rushed out to see the newcomer.
"Chill!" John shouted from the window. "He’s my best friend!"
The Ghost Rider leapt out the third-story window. His magic-fortified knees didn’t even creak.
"Yo again," he said, walking up to Daimon and handing him the matchbox. "Here. A lock of hair. Make a magical compass."
"Two sacks of leprechaun gold," the hell-merchant replied coolly. "Magical artifacts also accepted."
"You’ve gotta be kidding me," Ghost Rider scowled. "This goes toward your debt."
"You drive me insane," Daimon growled through clenched teeth. "Fine! I’ll make you the damn compass for free. But! After this, we’re even. All debts cleared!"
"Deal."
[Can’t keep squeezing him for that old mess forever. Gotta know when to stop.]
"Swear it."
"Okay, but you’ll also open a portal to the right circle of Hell."
[Not like I called a half-demon for nothing — guy travels Hell like it’s his backyard.]
The deal was sealed with a handshake.
Daimon summoned a little red imp and whispered the order in an unknown language.
The imp nodded and vanished in a puff of crimson smoke. A minute later, it returned with the goods.
Exactly the same trading system as the Dark Elves. Seems like all magical vendors operate the same way.
Daimon held a golden compass, covered in infernal runes. He opened the back, placed Illyana’s lock of hair inside, and whispered in an ancient demonic tongue.
The red needle flared like fresh blood — but didn’t move. On the top dial, numbers spun rapidly. Three. Nine. Seven.
“Lucky break. I’ve been to that circle of Hell before — I can open a portal,” Daimon reported. “It’s run by Belasco.”
“What can you tell me about him?” John took the heavy compass.
“Nasty bastard,” the half-demon shrugged. “Nothing special.”
Just another devil like the rest.
“Any tips?”
“I don’t deal with Belasco much. Not much to say. As for the three hundred ninety-seventh circle — it might look different from what you're used to, but you know as well as I do — all of Hell runs on the same fuel.”
The two demonologists exchanged knowing looks.
“John, are you seriously going to rescue some random girl? What happened to you? Trying to go full superhero now?”
“It’s trendy,” John smirked. “Trying to stay current.”
“Heh. That’s the John I know,” Daimon chuckled. “Personally, I’d prefer to open you a portal to Hell and head back to the club. Got ladies waiting.”
“Hold up,” Rider called out, jumping to the driver’s window of the Hell-train and honking the horn. “Gotta gather the team.”
“I heard you were rolling with a weird crew, but I figured it was just gossip.”
Mary strolled out of the school arm in arm with Beast, giving him detailed shampoo tips for making his blue fur glossy and silky. Beast took the advice with full dignity, as if they were discussing philosophy.
Cain came out next, zipping up his pants, grinning ear to ear. A couple of naked women waved at him from a window.
Jane wheeled Charles out like she was pushing a general into one last battle. She stopped the chair right in front of Cain.
“Sorry,” he said, eyes steady and open.
Cain froze for a moment. Then snorted like he was about to crack a joke — but didn’t find the words.
Jane, calm but firm, said they needed to talk and led aside.
Five minutes and one awkward conversation later, the two men shook hands — too tightly for it to be just a handshake. A childhood grudge finally laid to rest.
[Jane, my sweet Jane… she spent her time settling things between two old idiots. How could anyone ever doubt she’s worthy of Mjolnir?]
“All aboard!” John barked, slamming the train door. “Next stop — Three Ninety-Seven, Circle of Hell. Lost souls are non-refundable.”
