Oh boy, THIS has been a long-time coming. After so long, I'm finally getting around to doing a Young Justice story. I mean, I've never attempted one, entertained the thought of one, yes, but never got to actually typing one out. But here it is... and it's a crossover with Ghost Rider at that!
Last time I did a Ghost Rider story was September 2022, in a crossover with Percy Jackson but it didn't work out too well.
But anyway, welcome to Young Justice: The Spirit of Vengeance. As you can tell and see, this story features my new OC Mason Graves, who is the host of the Ghost Rider, and we all know what that means. I was originally going to have the OC be Johnny Blaze's son but decided not to go through with that. Not everything Ghost Rider needs to be connected to Johnny Blaze or even Robbie Reyes, though I understand that Johnny is the well-known host of the Rider.
I won't go into much detail of the story, because that's just spoiling it. All you need to know is that my OC is the main character, his name is Mason Graves, he will be paired with Cheshire, my favourite character in the Young Justice TV show which this follows since I haven't read the comics at all. Oh, and this story is Rated M for strong language, blood, gore, dark themes and sex scenes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Rider or Young Justice. I only own the OC Mason Graves/Ghost Rider.
If someone were to ask you if there was something about your past that you wanted to change, would you? A single moment in your life that you'd wanted to make better, or completely erase indefinitely?
No one truely understands the gravity of such a question, some say that any and all mistakes some one makes helps form them into the people they become. All experiences forming a blueprint to one's personality and future.
Yet there are some events that people will forever wish to forget. Committing a crime, cheating on a loved one, or something far worse than that. Those same people willing to pay any price to make it happen.
Everything in life comes with a price, money, power, love, most not caring about the cost it would take. It all comes down to if you're willing to make a deal for it.
I made a deal once, and I did pay the price that came with it. Not for selfish gain, but for someone I loved. At the time I was willing to do whatever it took, not knowing the full concequences of what would follow.
If someone where to ask me if there was something about my past that I wanted to change, would I? My answer would be that I would...but such things are impossible.
I already made a deal once, and in the end it cost me everything...including my soul.
X
An old, rundown motel room on the side of the road wasn't what many would consider an ideal spot to spend the night. But for those who didn't want to be found, it was the perfect place.
There wasn't much. Just one small bed, a small dresser between them, a broken tv on a stand at the other end of the room, and a bathroom small enough to be considered a stall with just a shower and a toilet.
Even if the place smelled like mildew and old wood and had the feel that one of more people had died there, it was the best that there was at the moment.
On the bed, a young man, seventeen years old, sat hunched over with his arms resting on his knees. Wearing only faded jeans with rips in the knees and a pair worn steel toed boots, his upper-half exposed showing hard muscles. His face was thin and angular with a buzzed down head of hair connected to a growing five'o clock stubble.
His eyes were closed, taking in slow and deep breaths while his fists opened and closed almost robotically. Muscles tense as he did all in his power to relax.
He'd been doing all in his power to suppress it. And for the most part he had been successful for about a week, but the urges were becoming too hard to ignore. Every inch of his body tingled, feeling like he'd been out on a hot summer day for too long, his scalp being the worst.
Sweat trickled down from his forehead, the inferno beneath his skin pulsing almost to the same tempo as his heart beat and steadily getting worse. A shuttering breath escaped his nearly clenched teeth, fists in tight balls as his body started to shake.
"Fuck!" he seethed. Standing straight up and starting to pace the length of the room, stopping in front of a cracked mirror hanging on the wall beside the bathroom door and glare into it. His dark-brown eyes piercing into the reflection that looked back at him...only for a sinister orange glow to emit from within the depths of his gaze.
Clenching his eyes shut, he rest his forehead against the mirror. The cool glass doing nothing to quell the burning that threatened to tear the flesh of his bones from the inside out.
"Stay. Inside!" He growled. Darting into the bathroom, he turned the tap water on and cupped the water before splashing his face with it several times, uncaring if he got water onto his chest or the floor. He then rolled his eyes before burying his face in the water, then jerked his head back with a loud exhale, staring at his reflecting as his face dripped with water... then he proceeded to cup the water again and drink it. However, he grimaced when another pulse of heat raced through his veins. "D-Definitely can't hold it much longer."
A loud scream suddenly echoed through the room from one of the adjacent ones nearby. The young man grabbed his head as he struggled feebily with what was trying to escape, light trails of smoke seeping between his fingers.
Another scream was heard, followed by the sound of something breaking which took out what little restraint he had left.
Dropping his hands to his sides, he stomped toward the door and threw it open, storming out into the night and making his way to where all the noises were coming from. Kicking the door open without hesitation to see the room beyond in shambles and an overweight, trucker-looking man attempting to tear off what little clothes were still on a woman he had pinned to the wall.
"What the...HEY! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" The large man bellowed, taking his attention of the sobbing woman who was nursing a large bruise on her face.
The young man didn't say a word as he crossed the room, grabbing the man by his shirt and throwing him across the room with a surprising amount of strength. "Get out of here." he said to the terrified woman, his eyes flaring like bright embers.
The woman scrambled to her feet and fled as he turned to the trucker who had managed to get back to his own feet. "You just made a mistake pal." the man growled.
A chuckle devoid of emotion came from the young man, "No...you did..." The fires in his eyes flared brighter, making the would-be rapist stumble back in fear.
Another scream ripped through the night, this from a terrified male just before the motel room had bright flames exploding out of the window and doorway.
Seconds later, the young man stormed back into his hotel room and began the process of packing his belongings, which wasn't much. Grabbing a black tanktop, he shoved it on quickly, then grabbed a black bomber jacket, before grabbing his duffel bag and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
he made his way over to the parking area, where a black 1969 Dodge Charger sat parked. With his keys, he unlocked the car and got into the driver's seat, shoving the duffel bag into the back then closed the door. Inhaling deeply then exhaling, he put the keys into the ignition before turning, starting up the engine. Backing out onto the road, he turned and drove off into the night.
As he drove, his mind flashed back to that night. The night he sold his soul to the Devil.
X
Mason Graves paced back and forth outside one of the hospital's side entrances, trying to calm his badly frayed nerves but nothing was working.
Mason had a simple, ordinary life. Born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona, he aspired to life his life day by day and enjoy it to the fullest. He was a pretty private individual, never one to have a large circle of friends in school, mostly kept to himself or only had one or two friends.
The only three things he cared and loved the most in this world were cars, motorcycles... and his mother.
He never knew his father, because the bastard had walked out on them before he was even born, leaving his mother to handle her pregnancy alone though she had friends and family to help out but it still wasn't the point. Mason had wanted nothing to do with his father, didn't even call him such a title as he didn't deserve it in his opinion. His mother was the only parent he needed in his life.
She did her best being a single mother, raising her son, and Mason could not fault her for anything. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, and she didn't do drugs. She worked hard to earn money and put food on the table. Mason helped out as he got older, finding the odd small jobs here and there to earn a decent amount of cash. His mother had done a lot for him, he wanted to make up for it, to help out when he could.
This became more pressing when he got a call while he was in college. His mother had been diagnosed with stage four leukemia, and her situation grew more dire with each passing day.
With no other options, and with his mother unable to work due to her condition, he dropped out of college and took a job as a courier back in his hometown to help pay the bills. Spending every moment he could with his family while he still had the chance.
But in the end, all he could do was watch helplessly as his mother got worse and worse. Until the day came that she could no longer fight the disease ravaging her body.
So Mason stood outside the hospital, staring up at the sky, at the stars. He wasn't a religious person by any means, but right now... he could use help from a higher power. And so, he prayed to God, to the Universe, to anyone who'd listen, that he would give anything to save his mother from death.
Mason sighed and shook his head, deciding to go back inside and be with his mother in her final moments. However, as he was just about to turn, a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"It's terrible, isn't it?
Mason turned and saw an old man with slicked back silver hair in a black suit with a red tie standing there holding a cane with a diamond in the shape of a skull sitting on the top.
"To watch someone you love being taken away like that? It's a pain that no one should have to endure." The man spoke with a disarmingly calm voice.
"What would you know about it?" Mason shot back, his grief easily detected.
The man smiled, "Everyone has, in some way. It's...horribly unfair. Wouldn't you agree?"
Red flags were going off in the back of Mason's mind, something about this guy didn't sit right and every instinct was screaming at him to get far away...but somehow he just couldn't. Like something was keeping him firmly planted.
"Are you another doctor?" Mason asked.
"Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I am someone in a position to...help you with your problem."
"Meaning?"
"I could make your mother better. Give her back her health. Ensure the only family you have doesn't pass on this night." the man said simply.
Mason blinked, unbelieving. "H-How?"
The man shrugged, "The how isn't important. And time is running short for her. Would you be willing to make a deal?"
Looking back at the door, Mason thought about his mother. How frail and weak she looked as she approached her last moments. He had been willing to do anything to protect her. Mason had always been there for everything, as a son, a protector, whatever his family needed. She was all he had, he'd do anything for his mother.
"What do you want?" he asked after a long moment, not sure if he could fully trust the man's word, but willing to hope for something.
A blade-like smile spread along the man's face, "In exchange for saving your mother...your soul."
The younger man glared at him, "You're fucking crazy. You expect me to believe half the horse-shit your shoveling?"
The man didn't look the least bit offended, "By midnight tonight, your mother's disease will be gone. By sunrise tomorrow, she will be the healthiest she's ever been. You will have her for the rest of your life." he reached into his suit and produced a rolled up document. "All you have to do... is sign this contract."
Slowly taking the scroll, Mason unrolled it and indeed saw that it was a contract. Only written in a language that he didn't understand.
A sudden sting had him retracting his hand, a drop of blood slipped from the end of his thumb and landing on the marked line at the bottom.
"That will do." the man said, taking the contract back and rolling it up. "I wish your family the best."
Mason swore that he saw the man's eyes flash yellow before he turned around and walked away. His form seeming to fade into the air when he was out of sight.
Still bewildered about the entire encounter, Mason turned and headed back into the hospital. Not realizing that his whole life was about to change...
And that's it for this chapter. I hope it was an interesting start for all of you, as I tried to make it interesting and fitting with Ghost Rider. So, what do you think of the origin? You all know who the mysterious man is, especially if you know how the whole 'becoming the Ghost rider' works, and I ain't talking about the MCU version... though Mason's Ghost Rider appearance will be the MCU version.
Anyone notice how the face of the MCU Ghost Rider looks like the Terminator exoskeleton?
