Chapter 82: Chapter 80: Dream after Dream
The night was a shroud, a cloak of obscurity that wrapped itself around Jon as he trudged down the desolate street. The moon, a mere sliver in the sky, cast long, eerie shadows that danced and flickered with every gust of wind. Jon was a solitary figure, his silhouette stark against the dimly lit backdrop. His attire was a departure from his usual ensemble. Instead of his customary leather clothes, he was clad in a black leather armor, studded with menacing barbs, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within him.
His face was a mask of grim determination, his eyes, usually bright and full of life, were now clouded with a mix of gloom and a simmering hatred. Each step he took echoed ominously, a testament to the heavy chain he wore, a symbol of his readiness for the impending battle.
As he neared an intersection, a black truck rumbled into view, its headlights cutting through the darkness. It came to a halt, and the driver's door creaked open. Out stepped a man, a mountain of muscle encased in a leather jacket. His face was hard, etched with lines of past battles and losses. This was Frank Castle, known in the underworld as the Punisher.
Jon's voice, deep and resonant, broke the silence, "Did you bring the things I asked?"
The Punisher, his voice as calm as the eye of a storm, replied, "Sure."
With a metallic clank, the Punisher unlatched the back of the truck. Jon approached, his boots crunching on the gravel. Nestled at the end of the carriage was an old box, its wood weathered and worn. As Jon lifted the lid, a red cloak and boots, symbols of power and authority, lay nestled within.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The Punisher's voice was laced with concern. "You want to use them to summon a demon?"
"Not a demon." Jon's voice was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his conviction. "It's the lord of the dark dimension, Dormammu! Yes, I want to summon him."
His gaze was fixed on the items in the box, his eyes reflecting the red hue of the cloak. "This is the only way."
The Punisher fell silent, his mind wrestling with the gravity of Jon's words. After a moment, he ventured, "You can ask the Avengers alliance to help you."
"No, they can't agree to what I am going to do, they can't understand the current situation at all." Jon's voice was firm, his decision made. He shook his head, his resolve unwavering.
Jon slowly bent down, his hand reaching out to touch the red cloak. But he froze, his breath hitching in his throat. A trace of black energy had appeared on the edge of the cloak, slowly, insidiously, beginning to erode it.
"Hey, Jon!" The Punisher's voice was filled with horror, his eyes wide as he watched the scene unfold.
The black energy, like a living entity, had spread throughout the truck, consuming everything in its path. The Punisher, his face a mask of terror, watched as the energy crept up his hands, slowly eroding his upper body.
"Frank!" Jon's voice echoed in the night, a desperate plea. But before he could reach his friend, the ground beneath him gave way, opening up into a gaping dark hole. With a gasp, Jon fell into the abyss.
When he came to, he was surrounded by an all-encompassing darkness. Transforming into the Ghost Rider, he ignited his hellfire, casting an eerie glow around him. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings, until they landed on a figure that made his blood run cold.
A colossal shadow, cloaked and ominous, was floating towards him. Ghost Rider summoned his hellfire chain, the flames dancing along its length, ready for the impending battle.
"Give me your power!" The shadow's voice was a chilling whisper, echoing around him. As the words faded, the flames on Ghost Rider's body extinguished abruptly, plunging him back into darkness.
"Aaaaaaaah~!"
Jon jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat. He was back in the repair shop, the familiar surroundings grounding him. He let out a shaky breath, his heart still pounding from the nightmare.
"What the hell?! Why do I keep having these dreams?" Jon muttered, his mind reeling from the vivid images.
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a circular portal materialized above him. It was a swirling vortex of darkness, an abyss that seemed to go on forever. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the portal, a man with a mustache, dressed in a mage's robe and a red cloak. He was panting heavily, clutching onto the portal as if something on the other side was trying to pull him away.
"Stop him, you are the only hope!" The man's voice was strained, filled with urgency.
Jon's eyes widened in recognition, his mind struggling to make sense of the situation. "Doctor Strange?" He stammered, his voice filled with confusion. "Why are you here?! This Isn't your timeline!"
Indeed, the figure before him was unmistakably Doctor Strange, Stephen Strange. Yet, Jon was certain that in the current timeline, Stephen was not a sorcerer. The Eye of Agamotto around his neck, however, suggested otherwise. This Doctor Strange was the Sorcerer Supreme.
Doctor Strange seemed taken aback, as if he had just realized something. "Did I come too early?" He murmured, more to himself than to Jon. Then, with a sense of urgency, he said, "Now you listen carefully to me, the Darkhold is the key. Use it, stop him with the Darkhold and learn the knowledge from it. Don't worry that the Darkhold will erode your soul. You are a special existence in this world. The Darkhold cannot consume you. Master ….!"
Before he could finish, several tentacles emerged from the darkness, wrapping tightly around Doctor Strange, pulling him towards the abyss. Despite his struggles, he was no match for the dark force. Just before he was dragged into the darkness, he managed to shout, "If you want to protect your family, you must master the Darkhold!
"Aaaaaaaaah~!"
Jon woke up again, his heart pounding. He looked around, then pinched his thigh. The sharp pain confirmed that he was not dreaming.
"Damn it, a dream within a dream?" Jon gasped, trying to make sense of the two dreams. The first dream had already unsettled him, but the second one, with Doctor Strange, was even more disturbing.
He took a deep breath, trying to piece together the fragments of his dreams. The first dream was puzzling. Why would he ask the Punisher to help him get the relic of the Hood, and then use it to summon Dormammu? And who was the dark figure that appeared at the end?
"Damn it, I have no clue at all!" Jon muttered, racking his brain. He tried to match the dark figure with the villains and superheroes he knew, but none of them seemed to fit.
Could it be a plot he was not aware of? He had only watched up to "WandaVision" before he found himself in this world. He hadn't had the chance to watch the subsequent Marvel works. If the dark figure was related to a storyline he was unfamiliar with, he would be at a disadvantage.
With a sigh, Jon realized that he had a lot to figure out, and not much time. The dreams were a warning, a call to action. He had to prepare himself for what was to come.
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