In the heart of New York, a desolate building stood like a forgotten relic of a bygone era. Its skeletal structure, a testament to the city's relentless evolution, now served as a clandestine base of operations. Within its hollowed-out shell, two stretchers were being gingerly maneuvered, each bearing a lifeless form swathed in the stark purity of white cloth.
This was no ordinary factory. It was a fortress, a stronghold nestled in the urban jungle of Brooklyn, a sanctuary for the notorious Hood's gang.
"We've done as you commanded, boss!" The voice echoed through the cavernous space, a respectful murmur that seemed to be addressing the very air itself.
A moment of silence ensued, the tension in the room palpable. Then, as if materializing from the ether, a figure emerged. He was a specter in red, a hooded cloak billowing around him, a crimson eye patch lending an air of menace. Red boots, twin guns at his waist, he was an embodiment of power and fear. This was Parker Robbins, the boss of the Hood's gang.
Once a petty thief in the streets of Brooklyn, Robbins had stumbled upon the cloak and boots during a heist. Discovering their supernatural abilities, he had exploited them to ascend the ranks of the underworld, becoming a formidable boss. His cloak granted him invisibility, his boots the power to defy gravity. His hands could unleash fire and electric blasts, and his eyes could penetrate illusions. But his most formidable power was his ability to resurrect the dead, a chilling talent that had once brought Mad Jim back from the grave to terrorize the Punisher.
"Good work. You may leave," he commanded, his voice a soft whisper that sent his minions scurrying away.
Alone now, Robbins approached the first stretcher, pulling back the white cloth to reveal the grotesque visage of Mad Jim. "Jim, oh Jim," he murmured, a strange lilt to his voice. "I gave you a chance, yet you failed to eliminate the Punisher."
Moving to the second stretcher, Robbins unveiled the vacant stare of Barracuda. The sight of Barracuda's lifeless eyes stirred a sense of curiosity within him. "What happened to you?" he mused aloud, speculating on the possibility of a mental attack.
With a swift motion, Robbins placed his hand on Barracuda's chest. "Perhaps when you awaken, you can enlighten me," he said, his voice echoing ominously. As his words faded, a brilliant energy burst forth from his palm, illuminating the room before dissipating. Yet, Barracuda remained motionless, his lifeless form a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had just coursed through him.
A flicker of surprise crossed Robbins' face. He stepped back, confusion etched on his features. "What's happening? Why has my power failed?" he questioned, his voice echoing in the empty room. He tried again, but Barracuda remained unresponsive, a silent testament to an unexpected failure.
"Don't waste your time, his soul is no more!" A female voice echoed through the room, causing Parker to whirl around. The figure that met his gaze was a middle-aged woman, her purple robe and hood giving her an air of mystique. The robe was frayed, almost tattered, a testament to the trials she had weathered. This was Agatha Harkness, the Purple Witch.
"Ah, Miss Witch," Parker greeted, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you have insights to share?"
Agatha moved with a slow, deliberate grace towards Barracuda's lifeless form. She peered into his vacant eyes, her voice barely above a whisper, "The Ghost Rider claimed his life. His soul was consumed by hellfire, forever lost. Your power is useless here."
"Ghost Rider?" Parker's brow furrowed in confusion.
"A force you would do well not to underestimate," Agatha replied, her tone stern.
Parker's face twisted into a scowl. "Enough with the cryptic warnings!"
Unfazed, Agatha continued, "Your power is a gift from Dormammu, lord of the dark dimension. But it's a mere fraction of what true power is. Even at its peak, it pales in comparison to the Ghost Rider. His Spirit of Vengeance is unique, formidable. Even I am no match for him."
She paused, her gaze shifting. "However, there may be a way. If you can find the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak, I might stand a chance against the Ghost Rider."
"Crimson Gem..." Parker scoffed, "You've mentioned it countless times, yet I have no idea what it is or what it looks like!"
Agatha sighed, raising her hand in a sweeping gesture. The surroundings morphed, the factory-like base transforming into a world awash with scarlet energy particles. They swirled and coalesced, forming a radiant Crimson Gem.
"The Crimson Gem is a conduit for the power of Cyttorak, the ruler of the Crimson Dimension. His power surpasses even Dormammu's. He can manipulate space, erase time, perform feats that defy comprehension. The Darkhold, the Book of Sins, holds a few records about him."
"I've always sought the legendary Chaos Magic, but perhaps fate has other plans. Cyttorak, unlike most dimension lords, doesn't seek to invade other multiverses. He prefers to remain in his dimension, spreading his power across universes to gather followers. The Crimson Gem is the vessel for his power."
With another wave of her hand, the surroundings reverted to their original state. "For years, I've been in pursuit of the Chaos Magic. My journey brought me to New York, where I learned of the possible presence of the Crimson Gem. Although it's not as potent as the Chaos Magic, it's a formidable force in its own right."
Parker Robbins stood in stunned silence, his mind reeling from the onslaught of information. "Crimson Dimension, Cyttorak, Chaos Magic, Multiverse... What are these things? And who is Dormammu? You say my power comes from him, but I've never even heard of him!"
Agatha sighed, a note of resignation in her voice. "That's precisely why I didn't explain the Crimson Gem to you earlier. Your understanding is limited to this plane of existence. You can't comprehend the higher dimensions. I enlisted your help because, in New York, you're one of the few who've dabbled in black magic, have a wide network, and are willing to assist me."
And then, she went on to explain that she had directed Parker and his gang to pursue the Diamond Band. After the recent incident in Times Square, she had sensed the power of the Ghost Rider. Although she didn't understand the connection between the band and the Ghost Rider, she believed that this course of action would draw him out.
As she finished speaking, a cloud of black smoke began to rise from her body. Her form started to fade, slowly dissolving into the ether. Before she vanished completely, she left Parker with a final instruction, "I hope you can find the Crimson Gem soon. I await your good news."
With that, she was gone, leaving Parker alone in the room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The task ahead was daunting, but the allure of power and the promise of a reward were too enticing to ignore. He was determined to find the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak, no matter what it took.
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