Marvel: The Awakened One

About fifty kilometers north of Fort Stockton stood a small cemetery marked by a weathered cross.

The caretaker—a man who looked well past fifty with one foot already in the grave, woke from a lazy afternoon nap. Hearing noises from somewhere in the cemetery, the caretaker climbed out of bed, pushed open his door, and stepped outside.

What he saw stopped him cold.

Not far from his small cabin, a young man dressed only in a black t-shirt—apparently unbothered by the winter chill—was digging a hole with a shovel, his back turned to the caretaker.

The caretaker let out a short laugh.

”This here’s a free cemetery, son. No need to be sneaky about your digging.”

”...”

Hawk paused mid-dig. Still holding the shovel, he turned to face the old man walking toward him and offered a faint smile.

”I wasn’t sneaking. When I got here, you were asleep. Didn’t want to be rude and wake you. And I’m not digging a grave.”

”Is that so?”

The caretaker didn’t believe a word of it. He looked at Hawk with an amused expression. ”Then what exactly are you doing?”

Hawk smiled, his gaze dropping to the shovel in his hands.

”I need a shovel at home. Saw this one lying around, figured I’d test it out—see how sharp it is. Works great, actually. Think I’ll take it with me.”

”...”

The smile vanished from the caretaker’s face so fast it was almost audible.

A second later, The cloudiness in his eyes cleared, replaced by a sharp, piercing focus. Even his voice lost its frail, elderly rasp, becoming something far younger and more dangerous.

In fact... If you looked closely, you would see two small flames flickering to life deep in his pupils—burning a bright, sulfurous yellow.

His name was Carter Slade.

And he was the first man to sign a contract with Mephisto, the first to bond with the Spirit of Vengeance—the original Ghost Rider from over a hundred and fifty years ago.

Back then, Carter Slade had fallen for Mephisto’s promises. He’d signed away his soul, becoming the demon’s personal debt collector. After he’d been sent to the town of San Venganza to ”collect” on the souls of its inhabitants, the guilt had driven him to flee Mephisto’s control. He’d taken the Contract of San Venganza—containing hundreds of damned souls—and hidden himself here, building a free cemetery as penance for his sins.

The contract itself was hidden inside the most ordinary object imaginable.

A shovel.

The very one Hawk was now holding.

Carter Slade’s expression turned deadly serious as he stared at Hawk.

”Demon?”

”No.”

Hawk smiled and shook his head. He hefted the shovel in his hands, then looked back at Carter. ”But a demon’s about to show up. Since you’re retired, how about you stay retired? Give me what’s inside this thing, and I’ll handle Blackheart when he gets here. Deal?”

He could tell that Carter Slade still had the power to transform into the Ghost Rider.

But—

It would be his last transformation.

If Carter didn’t use it, the remaining energy in his body would keep him alive for a good while longer.

But if he transformed one final time, the moment that energy burned out would be the moment his soul returned to Hell.

And given the fact that Carter had tricked Mephisto—faked his own death, stolen the Contract of San Venganza, and hidden right under the Lord of Hell’s nose for all these years—the second Mephisto found out...

Heh.

Carter was going to have a very bad time.

Hawk was a kind soul. He didn’t like seeing people suffer. And so, he was offering Carter Slade a fair deal.

...

As expected, the moment Carter heard Hawk say Blackheart’s name, his face went pale.

”Blackheart.”

As the original Ghost Rider, Carter knew the Demons of Hell inside and out.

Blackheart might not be the most powerful demon in Hell’s dimension, but his background was untouchable.

Because his father was Mephisto.

Blackheart was supposedly the result of a union between Mephisto and a human dark witch. And because of his heritage, even while walking the Earth, Blackheart retained formidable magical power.

Carter was stunned. ”How does he know I’m here?”

”Seriously?”

Hawk couldn’t help but scoff. His gaze swept across the cemetery, lingering on the dozens of gravestones, then settled on the cross mounted above the cabin door.

”You didn’t actually think slapping a cross on your building would keep the souls buried here out of Hell, did you?”

When Sharon had helped him track down Carter Slade’s cemetery, Hawk had been curious how Blackheart had managed to find the old Ghost Rider after all these years.

Until he saw the cemetery. And all those graves.

Playing the ”hide in plain sight” card was one thing, but taking it this far? Hawk genuinely couldn’t tell if Carter Slade was insanely confident or just insanely lucky.

Now, hearing Carter’s confused question, Hawk had his answer.

He let out a long, weary sigh and shook his head. ”You’ve survived this long because Mephisto is blind. That’s the only explanation.”

Carter finally understood. He stared at the gravestones around him, his expression twisting into something unreadable.

He didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

Because it was the truth. Now that Hawk had pointed it out, Carter realized it himself—the only reason he was still alive was because Mephisto had somehow missed the obvious.

Carter looked at Hawk. ”Can I ask why you want the Contract of San Venganza?”

Hawk shrugged. ”Haven’t decided yet. But if it’s a trade, there’s got to be payment. Fair’s fair, right?”

Carter nodded.

”Right.”

”So, we have a deal. I handle Blackheart when he gets here, and the contract’s mine.”

”...” Carter thought it over, glanced at Hawk one more time, then nodded. ”Deal.”

Not that he had much choice.

The Contract of San Venganza was already in Hawk’s hands. And Carter only had one transformation left. If he used it, his soul would go straight to Hell the moment it ended.

And just thinking about what Mephisto would do to him when he showed up...

Carter suppressed a shudder.

Most importantly, he’d already confirmed that Hawk wasn’t a demon.

That was enough.

Seeing Carter’s agreement, Hawk’s face broke into a wide grin. Then he glanced toward the horizon, where the sun was sinking low, and felt two powerful presences rapidly closing in. ”Alright. Time for you to go inside and close the door.”

Carter didn’t hesitate. He turned, walked into his cabin, and slammed the door shut behind him.

In one smooth motion.

THUD!

Hawk watched the door rattle on its hinges, a small cloud of dust shaking loose from the frame. He chuckled softly.

A second later, the wooden handle of the shovel cracked. Splinters flew. And there, in Hawk’s hand, was an ancient scroll of parchment.

The Contract of San Venganza.

Sealed within it were the souls of over a thousand damned—men who had once made deals with Mephisto, only to have the first Ghost Rider sent to collect.

And these weren’t just any souls.

The Contract of San Venganza contained the corrupted souls of fallen saints—men who had once been devout people, their hearts turned toward Heaven, only to be twisted and seduced by Mephisto into darkness.

As everyone knows, the redeemed are weak, but the fallen are strong.

These people, once devoted to the light, had become something far more dangerous after their fall.

They were no longer saints. They were corrupted saints.

A single one of their twisted souls carried the power of a hundred—maybe even a thousand—normal human souls.

And there were over a thousand of them sealed in this contract.

No wonder Blackheart had been so confident. With the Contract of San Venganza in his possession, he could create a brand-new Hell Dimension and challenge Mephisto for control of Earth’s souls.

As Hawk held the scroll, he could feel it—the presence of over a thousand malevolent souls, screaming and howling inside their prison.

They reached out to him, their voices slithering through the seal, whispering in his mind.

”Come.”

”Join us.”

”Fall into the darkness with us.”

”Taste the sweetness of it. Let it consume you.”

”Come with us!”

The voices were everywhere, a chorus of seduction and madness, each one trying to drag Hawk down with them—into the abyss, into corruption, into darkness itself.

But—

Fall into darkness? Hah... Does darkness require a fall?

’I can be the light. But i can also be the darkness.’

And so, why would he need to fall?

A mocking smile spread across Hawk’s lips as the tempting whispers of the thousand souls filled his mind.

And then, all at once, the Contract of San Venganza went silent.

The souls inside felt it—a darkness far deeper, far more absolute than anything they could ever hope to reach.

...

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