DISCLAIMER
I DO NOT OWN GHOST RIDER OR MY HERO ACADEMIA!!! THE GHIST RIDER IS OWNED MY MARVEL COMICS/STUDIOS AND MHA IS OWNED BY FUNIMATION!
Chapter 1: Call it Hell
Folsom State Prison, California 10:37 AM
"INMATE COMING THROUGH!!!", shouted the guard, wheeling an upright stretcher down the hall. Strapped to the stretcher was a boy, no older than fourteen. He had brown scruffy hair and two scars over his right eye and a silver cross hanging from a chain around his neck. His eyes were shut as if he were asleep, but he was fully aware of the situation taking place. As he was pushed down the hallway, the other inmates moved away from the steel doors, being the only protection they had from him. They were more scared of him than they were of All Might, for his acts of justice were the sweetest of dreams compared to the nightmares residing in the boy's soul. They stop at the guard desk just before they reach the mess hall, the boy opening his eyes at the sudden halt, revealing a unique combination of colors. The left eye, being quite normal, was a bright brown. The right eye, however, was not one color, but a whole palette of reds and yellows and oranges, moving together as if they were smoldering cinders. A tall burley guard with horns on either side of his head approached the boy, holding a clipboard up and reading aloud.
"Carter J. Slade the third", he said with a sarcastic tone, "where the hell are they sending you?", flipping through the pages as he asked. The boy stared into the guards eyes, and with a tired voice he replied, "Who fucking cares… as long as no one gets hurt anymore". The guard scoffed at Carter's response, flipping past another page on his clipboard. "Japan? Hm… I was honestly expecting somewhere colder, like Siberia. That would make it a hell of a lot easier to contain-", Carter cut him off. "Just finish the damn paperwork so I can leave this God forsaken place". The guard with the horns eyed the cross on his neck, thinking the boy was the only one that his god had truly forsaken. "You're going to Musutafu City for later processing, there they'll talk to you about who will be supervising you after we release you into their custody". "Release me?", asked the boy, "I thought I still had ten more years". The guard then began reading off the next page. "You do, but they're making you do your time on parole with rehabilitation. Then, if they see fit, they might try to get you a hero license, or the Japanese government will sanction you as…", the guard stopped cold when he saw what the paper read next, for he prayed to whatever gods were listening that it would never happen, "a-as a soldier… deployed into situations where heroes are unable to safely conduct their jobs…". Carter was shocked to hear this. All he wanted was to do his time and hide away from the world once he got out. He just didn't want to hurt anyone ever again.
As they wheeled him out to the transport truck, they swapped small talk while filling out the information needed for the paperwork. Unfortunately, anything related to Carter before he came to Folsom Prison was either redacted or the information was destroyed entirely out of fear that his transfer would reach the press. "...and there's still the matter of your quirk. We both know that it was… altered before you came here. But you're still registered with your original quirk. To finish the last of the paperwork I need to know what your original quirk was, and since no one had ever seen anything like it, what you would like to call your new quirk". The guard readied his pen, waiting for Carter to describe his old and new quirks to the best of his ability. He began with the exact words the doctors had told him when he was six. "My quirk was called Arsenal, it granted me the ability to create firearms of any caliber out of the dust in the air, and then turn back to dust if I were ever to drop them. The only downside is I couldn't create more ammo or magazines, I'd have to make a new gun entirely". The guard wrote his description down word for word, all the while thinking how lucky he was to have a quirk that was both righteous and horrifying. "And your current quirk, what do you want to name it?", he asked. Carter took a deep breath and thought long and hard on the best way to describe his ungodly powers. His response, while being long thought out, was only a few words. Words that would then strike fear into the guards heart. "Hell…", he said, "Call it Hell".
'Japan', he thought to himself, 'Thank God for Allspeak, now I don't have to learn another language'. The stretcher was locked into place in the back of the transport truck, as the final lock was secured, Carter could hear faint voices coming from inside the cell block he had just left, a cluster of phrases ranging from, 'We're free, we're free!' to 'Thank God he's gone!'. He didn't blame them for being happy, considering what happened a year ago. The memories of that day still playing vividly, as if they had only happened hours ago. (FLASHBACK) Carter had been in prison for just over a year at this point, and having been assigned to the GenPop section of the prison, he had decided to keep his head low and do his time. The other prisoners consisted of mainly theives, small time offenders, and the occasional Yakuza member, while the bigger criminals were held on the opposite side of the prison. They all left Carter alone, with him being a kid and all, but were left to question why he wasn't in a juvenile detention hall. He was quiet enough besides the occasional 'Hi', so they didn't really mind him around all that much. That was until HE arrived. One day Carter was relaxing in his cell, as there was nothing else to do, when the door slid open and three guards walked in with a transfer prisoner. He was an older man, missing quite a few of his teeth, with receding hairline. Carter took one glance at the man and thought he looked like a pedophile, little did he know how right he was. Later that night, long after the lights had gone out, Carter was sound asleep. He had always been a heavy sleeper, and the various conversations happening in the surrounding cells never bothered him. He never even heard the man sneaking up from behind him. He woke suddenly as the man shoved an oily rag into his mouth and threw him off his bunk. Carter looked up in horror to see the man was naked, intent on raping him. Carter stared him down with the glare of a fighter, much to the mans annoyance. He licked his lips hungrily, "Come now boy, I dare you to put up a fight. Be a good little fuck toy and make my night easier, and I promise I'll let you live". He snarled as he reached out for Carter, but was shocked when the boy extended his arm out, holding a colt six-shooter. This was the first time in over a year he had used his quirk, and he had forgotten how good the cold steel of a gun had felt in his hands. Without hesitating another second, he pulled the trigger of the gun, which was currently aimed at his nether regions, causing them to explode everywhere. "AAAAAUGH FUCKING LITTLE SHIT!!!", he screamed. He angrily lunged at Carter, but by the time he had taken his first step another bullet had pierced his left knee, causing him to fall to the ground in immense pain. By this time, the alarm had gone off all around the cell block and guards were ruching to the cell as fast as they could. Carter leaned down next to the man, dropping the gun and watching it reduce to ash. "How old was she?", he asked the man, looking at Carter through teary eyes. "What?!", he asked painfully, only for Carter to slap him. "HOW OLD WAS THE GIRL YOU MURDERED?!", he screamed. "H-how do you kn-". He tried asking, only to receive another slap, this time it was backhanded. "I was able to get your file from the guards", said Carter, his voice sounding more raspy and gruff. "Tw-twelve… and thank God her body was still warm, otherwise I never would have been able to… to…". He lost his ability to speak and the room grew more and more orange. He could not fathom the sight before him. The flaming apparition staring him down reached forward and picked him up by his neck, bringing him up to his face. The last thing the man heard was also the most haunting. "You have the blood of the innocent on your hands… prepare to rot…". As the guards approached the cell, they were interrupted by the hottest fire they had ever felt shooting from between the bars, and over the roar of the flames they were able to hear a faint scream, making out the word 'Mercy'. The next voice they heard was Carters. "Fuck you and your mercy", he said, them turning to the cell door, "He's dead… you can come in now… the bars should be cooled off enough". As the guards inched their way inside the cell, they took in the scene laying out in front of them. The cell was black with soot and there were no remnants of hardly anything, except for a melted steel bed frame and a pile of ash in the middle of the room. One guard looked to Carter and asked, "You said he was dead… where's the… body?", his voice trailing off as he realized Carter's eyes were fixed on the pile of ash in the middle of the room. Everyone present in the room was silent as they transferred the boy out of the cell in a straight jacked, headed for solitary confinement.
Carter woke up from his dream as the truck hit a pothole in the road. "Where are we?" He asked the driver. "We're almost at the airport", he said, "Good luck in Japan kid. God only knows you'll need it". As they got closer to the airport Carters mind started to wander again, wondering how the life ahead of him would unfold.