"Mon dieu!" Gambit exclaimed, faintly, one hand pressed to his bruised chest as he lay on the ground, fighting to catch his breath, "Cavalier Fantome! L'esprit de Vengeance!"

"Come for him? Well, ya can't have him!" Rogue was airborne in a flash, fists curled and ready to strike, even as Wolverine was leaping to his feet.

"Non!" Gambit cried out, "Chère, no! Don' move! Don' do nothin'!"

"Who... or what... the hell is this?" Rogue snapped, angrily, but stayed her action at his alarmed shout.

"Some creep in a Halloween costume about a month too early," Wolverine snarled, unsheathing his claws and poising to strike, "maybe we should show him some real horror."

"Non, mon amis," Gambit finally managed to catch his breath enough to climb to his feet, waving them both back, "dis... dis is de Ghost Rider. De Spirit of Vengeance. He collects de souls of sinners for le diable... de devil..."

Gambit turned towards the rider, lighting up another card to replace the one he had dropped when he had fallen – he could see, now, the length of chain the blazing skeletal figure carried, wielding it like a weapon. This was what had struck him in the chest, winding him – he knew full well that the Rider was capable of wielding it to a much deadlier effect.

"What you want wit' Gambit, monsieur?" he asked, slowly, "Been a long time since my dark days, would'a thought dere's plenty other souls de devil take afore he want mine..."

"I do not want your soul," the Ghost Rider shook his burning skull, "nor those of your fellow X-Men. I hunt a different prey."

"Then... what you want wit' Gambit? What you huntin', Cavalier Fantome?"

"An escaped demon... a dangerous, malevolent creature, whose reign of terror must be stopped. You know her as... Miasma."

"Well, what a coincidence," growled Wolverine, "that's exactly what we're huntin' for too...

"Did you say... demon?" Rogue sounded dazed, "Like... from Hell, genuine... Satan hisself... demon?"

"Miasma is not Satan," the Ghost Rider corrected her as he flung the chain back over his shoulder, securing it, "she is, however, extremely powerful. She is not to be trifled with."

"We know," Wolverine said, grimly, "what else ya got on her, then?"

"She escaped from Hell several weeks ago – she has left a trail of desolation and despair in her wake. In Hell she oversaw the suffering of the damned. On Earth, she has destroyed guilty and innocent alike, many committing suicide to escape her clutches. Ghost Rider has confronted her three times already. She is immune to my Ghost Flame, my Chain Whip... even my Penance Stare does not work on her. But she has no effect on me either. She is a demon, and demons have no soul. She must be returned to Hell – I can send her there, but first, she must be contained."

"Contained?" Rogue repeated, incredulously, "how in tarnation are we supposed ta contain somethin' made of smoke?"

"If she can be trapped mentally, then she can be banished back to Hell."

"You mean... in a physical body," Wolverine realised, "no – no way in hell! We are not sacrificing an innocent victim!"

"I cannot harm an innocent," Ghost Rider intoned, "I can only take the sinners, the guilty, the stained souls."

"Den dat's why you need Gambit," the Cajun said, softly, "she took over my body once... you want her t'do it again, huh? So she can be contained?"

The Ghost Rider inclined his head, burning eye sockets locking onto red-on-black eyes.

"If Miasma can be contained then she can be cast back down to Hell where she belongs," Ghost Rider told them, "or else she will remain a cloud of misery enveloping the minds of humans – and mutants – everywhere, until she has consumed every soul on the planet."

"Remy, no! She'll kill ya!" protested Rogue, before she turned on Ghost Rider, brandishing an accusing finger; "An' he's an innocent, so ya can't hurt him – ya said so yerself!"

Gambit let out a dry chuckle; "Gambit anyt'in but innocent, chère... Gambit a Master Thief, remember? Been guilty of more dan one sin to get dat title, mon amour."

"I will not take him if it can be avoided," the Rider promised, "but I must return Miasma to Hell, where she belongs."

"We burn dat bridge when we come to it," Gambit told them, rubbing his chest again with a grimace, "first, we gotta find her... Logan?"

"This way," Wolverine jerked his head in the direction they had been heading in, "These tunnels reek of her stench, but it's definitely strongest in this direction..."

Gambit led the way through the dark tunnels, illuminated card held aloft, as Wolverine called out directions occasionally, following the scent of Miasma. Behind Wolverine strode Ghost Rider, his blazing skull like a second lantern in the darkness, as Rogue brought up the rear, flying behind them like a guardian angel. Sure enough, Gambit's prediction bore true, and they found themselves approaching Callisto's central chamber, from where she ruled over the Morlocks in Storm's stead.

"She's in there," Wolverine growled, under his breath, "no doubt about it."

"So what's the plan of attack?" Rogue queried, hesitantly, "Ah'm all fer rushin' in with fists raised, but we already know that won't work..."

Ssssso... you do learn... silly child... aren't you going to come in...?

"So much for de element of surprise," Gambit sighed, "Ghost Rider an' Gambit go in... we de ones she can't effect. You stay back, mes amis. De further away you are, de less she can hurt you..."

"Yer not goin' in there by yerself with this Halloween prop, Cajun," Wolverine snarled, but Gambit raised his hand.

"Dis is for de best, mon amis," he said, calmly, "stay back, please..."

"Ah don't think we've got much choice, Logan," Rogue rested her gloved hand on his arm, "that voice... just hearin' it again..."

Don't keep Miasma waiting, chère... hissed the sibilant, mocking voice, come on inssssside and surrender to the darkness... the despair... join your Morlock friendssss in the eternity of dark torment...

Gambit took a deep breath, drawing himself up to his full height, before turning on his heel and striding into the throne room, Ghost Rider close behind him. Rogue and Wolverine immediately shot to the doorway, peering inside to see what transpired.

Callisto was sitting on her throne, her tattered clothes hanging from her gaunt and scarred frame. Her missing right eye was hidden behind her eye-patch, but her left eye was clouded over with oily black-and-purple smoke. Annalee sat on the floor at her feet, similarly subdued, although she kept blinking rapidly – occasionally, her eyes would clear momentarily, only to cloud over again. Clearly, the telepath was still fighting against Miasma's influence.

Above the throne there was a rolling, shimmering cloud of smoke; slowly, it drifted towards the floor and coalesced into the semi-solid form of Miasma, yellow eyes alight with victory. She raised a smoky, vaguely hand-shaped tendril to Gambit's jaw, even as he glared at her.

Remy... the silky yet harrowing voice purred, Miasma has missed you... will you surrender to me? Give yourself to darkness? Surrender, and I will let your friends go free... refuse me, and you will watch them die in every way I know you fear...

"Let dem all go," Gambit told her, firmly, "de Morlocks, an' everyone else you got yo' tentacles in, an' den we talk."

Ssssso demanding... still so strong... sssssstill resisting Miasma... I will claim your mind... you will succumb to the despair... you can feel it, can't you? Ssssssso many souls in torment... all Miasma's playthings... you will join them, and I will make you sssssssuffer...

Gambit shuddered as a smoky tendril brushed against his cheek, and he was almost overcome by the sheer pain and despair... it was true. He could sense the torment of the Morlocks in Miasma's clutches, the fear and concern radiating from Rogue and Wolverine in the doorway... and a mysterious blank from the Ghost Rider beside him, a strange emotional void of nothingness. He concentrated on that as he forced himself to block out the other emotions, reinforcing his mental barricades.

Miasma let out a low, haunting laugh; Pathetic... you know you can't keep me out for long... I've been insssssside your mind, Remy... I know the despair that lurksssss within... all I need to do is remove those barriers of yoursssss... Leech! Attend your dark queen!

"Oh, hell, no," Rogue turned concerned green eyes towards Logan, "not that power-neutralising parasite! If he gets his hands on Gambit, Remy's a sitting duck!"

"Then we gotta stop him," Logan snarled, "knocking the little twerp out for a few hours'd do the trick. Storm'd get real upset if we did anythin' more... permanent."

There were running footsteps, and sure enough, the small, green-skinned mutant appeared, his eyes as clouded as the others. There were scratches and grazes all over his face and arms, as if he had been clawing at himself, no doubt trying to fight off Miasma's influence, to no avail.

"Leech is here, mistress," he whimpered, "Leech come when called... please spare poor Leech..."

Take his powers away from him... and you shall have one day of freedom from Miasma's embrace...

Leech immediately swung around and launched himself towards Gambit, hands outstretched, desperate to obey. Rogue went to dive forwards to intercept him, but someone else was quicker – and closer. The Ghost Rider yanked the chain from his shoulder and whipped it out, slamming it into the Morlock, lifting Leech off his feet and sending him crashing into a wall. The diminutive mutant slid to the floor and slumped over, out cold. Miasma hissed and lashed out a tendril towards the Rider, but it passed through him with no effect.

You! How dare you interfere!

"You are to be returned to Hell, where you belong," intoned the skeletal figure, "your Master commands it."

Miasma no longer has a Master! Miasma is the Master now! Miasma is free to bring her darkness and despair and emptiness and pain and suffering to all mortals... mortal pain is sssssso much sweeter than that of the damned...

Gambit charged a card and flicked it as her, causing her to scream out; as she did so, Callisto, Annalee and multiple other Morlock voices from the tunnel all cried out in pain.

Fool! You know you cannot hurt me without hurting them!

"From de sounds of t'ings, dey'd welcome it if it meant freedom from you," Gambit shot back, charging another card, "tell me, Miasma – how long can you keep hold on all of dem if yo' busy fighting me?"

He threw the card; Miasma and Callisto and the other Morlocks screamed, but this time, Annalee did not. The old woman blinked, her eyes clearing, as she crawled back, away from the throne, raising her hands in fear.

"Let dem go, Miasma, an' I'll stop," Gambit took a step forwards, charging another card, "but seems to me like de more you focus on tryin' t'keep hold of dem, de less strength you got to fight Gambit..."

The card flashed forwards and this time Miasma evaded it; on the throne, Callisto slumped over, raising one hand to her head, groaning. Miasma flickered and wavered, lashing tendrils out at Gambit; he leapt and ducked and dived, performing acrobatic leaps to avoid her attacks as he charged and threw more cards; with each one that impacted, fewer and fewer Morlock voices joined in the screams of rage and pain. It seemed that Gambit was gaining the upper hand... until one of Miasma's attacks struck its mark.

A smoky tendril speared forwards, stabbing straight through Gambit's chest; he made a choking noise, the card in his hand fluttering away from suddenly lax fingers, his arms dropping to his sides. Ghost Rider swung his chain in a whirling motion in an effort to dispel the insubstantial limb, but to no effect.

"Oh, no!" Rogue exclaimed, horrified; "Logan, we gotta do something!"

"If ya got any ideas, darlin', I'm listenin'..."

Rogue was, however, saved from taking action, as another voice cut through the cackling from Miasma.

"You are stronger than her," it intoned, "you can fight her off... drive her out... fight back, and defeat her! You are stronger than her... you can fight her off... drive her out... fight back and defeat her!"

"Well I'll be damned," Logan murmured, in disbelief, "Annalee!"

At the telepath's psychic urging, Gambit slowly raised his head, gasping in pain as Miasma lifted him off the floor, like a fish impaled on a spear. He reached into his coat, pulling out a card. Sweating and shaking with pain and the exertion, he charged the card, and threw it. It collided with the base of the tendril, and Miasma screamed, wrenching back, as the smoky appendage dissipated, dropping Gambit into a heap on the floor. Another tendril lashed out, knocking Annalee over backwards; Callisto launched herself forwards, catching her elderly friend as she fell, cradling her protectively.

On the floor, Gambit rolled over, panting for breath, chest aching, both burning and freezing at the same time as his lungs struggled to drag in enough air to stop him from passing out, his head looping in dizzying surges as he fought to cling to consciousness. Miasma loomed over him, yellow eyes blazing.

You are mine! I claim you, mind, body and soul! Yield to me!

"Never," Gambit coughed, forcing himself to get to his feet, staggering to keep his balance, "gonna send you back to Hell, where you belong..."

He charged and threw yet another card, but Miasma evaded it, laughing derisively. She poured herself around him, looping around him, curling into a vortex of smoke with him at the centre; she whirled around him, obscuring him from view.

"Remy!" Rogue cried out, her voice high with terror.

She launched from her hiding place, but then froze, suspended in mid-air, unable to approach the seething vortex, her mind overwhelmed by her proximity to it. She tumbled to the floor, her hands going to her temples, trying to shut out the turmoil.

Inside the vortex, Gambit threw several charged cards into the whirlwind around him, but Miasma shifted around them, evading the attacks, as she screamed her laughter at him. He could feel her battering his mind as she buffeted his body, his coat whipping around him as he felt her clawing at his mental barricades, her focus now entirely on him, determined only to destroy him. He pitched to his knees, his hands going to his temples as he fought to keep her out, to not submit, but the pain... the darkness... the despair...

Yes! Feel it! Feel the despair of Miasma!

It was hopeless... he was helpless... he was too weak, too pathetic, too tired, too sore, too useless...

Yes! Yes! Surrender yourself to me!

There was a strange, metallic rattling noise, and something slid across the floor, through the cloud of fog, coming to a stop against his knee. Without realising what he was doing, he lowered his hand, and touched it. It was a length of heavy chain. Ghost Rider's Chain Whip...

His fingers clasped around it, and he concentrated. Pinkish energy surged through his hand, into his fingers, and the chain began to glow. Gambit picked it up and began to spin it – slowly, as first, then faster, as the charge built, spreading down the length of the chain, until he was able to stand, clambering back to his feet, twirling the chain, slicing through the vortex around him, his bio-kinetic energy tearing through Miasma's cloudy shroud like a knife through paper.

No! She howled, causing the other occupants of the room to cry out in echo of her pain, No! What are you doing? Stop this... stop this at once!

She pulled back, away from the reach of the chain, as Gambit reabsorbed the energy from it, tossing it back to Ghost Rider, who caught it deftly, nodding to him. Gambit returned the gesture, as Miasma coalesced above him, her blurry features twisted into a mask of rage.

How dare you? She screeched, incandescent with rage, I will tear you to pieces, mortal man!

"Time to finish dis, den," Gambit said, tiredly, tapping one finger to his temple, "you know what you gotta do, Miasma. Gotta fight me in here..."

I will destroy you!

"Try it, bitch."

Miasma roared her rage aloud, drawing herself high up into the air. Gambit raised his face towards her, and spread his arms, invitingly. She twisted herself into a cone of smoke, and speared towards him, flooding into him, pouring herself into his body, just as she had when he was unconscious in the medical bay. This time, though, he was awake, and he felt it, every second of her tearing her way into his mind, and this time, he tried desperately to fight her possession...

Arms dropping limply to his sides, Gambit pitched to his knees, as his eyes slid shut, and he collapsed to the floor.