The stillness of the dam shattered as the surface roiled and churned. A massive figure began to rise, towering over them, its form made entirely of water. The creature took shape, a monstrous humanoid figure with eyes like dark whirlpools. Wallow. His arrival was heralded by a deafening roar as he towered over the dam, his liquid limbs rippling with unrestrained power.
Abigor smirked. "You see, Rider? You can't fight what you can't hold. Let's see you try now!"
Wallow moved with terrifying speed, his watery arm crashing down on Ghost Rider. The impact sent him hurtling through the air, slamming into the concrete wall of a nearby structure. The force of the blow cracked the wall, dust rising in a cloud around the impact.
For a moment, silence fell.
Then, through the rubble, Ghost Rider rose. The flames of his skull flared brighter, casting long shadows as he stood, unshaken. His chain dragged behind him, sparks flying as it scraped the ground. The sight was enough to make even Wallow hesitate, his watery form rippling with unease.
Ghost Rider took a step forward, his voice a guttural growl. "Vengeance."
With a flick of his hand, the chain ignited, its fire roaring to life. In a blur of motion, the fiery weapon lashed out, wrapping around Abigor's neck. The air demon's smirk turned to a look of panic as Ghost Rider yanked him forward with inhuman strength.
"Let's see if you can outrun this," the Rider hissed, his voice low and menacing.
He locked eyes with Abigor, unleashing the Penance Stare. Flames erupted in the air as Abigor convulsed, his screams echoing across the dam. His sins burned through him, each one searing his soul until there was nothing left but silence. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground, his last breath fading into the night.
Wallow watched, his watery form trembling. The Rider turned his fiery gaze toward him, chain still blazing. Wallow stepped back, fear overtaking him for the first time. Without a word, he dissolved into the water, retreating from the battle.
From a distance, Blackout observed the scene, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes narrowed as Wallow reappeared beside him, drenched and visibly shaken.
"What happened?" Blackout asked, his tone icy.
Wallow, catching his breath, replied, "He's... strong. Stronger than anything I've faced. Even the blow didn't slow him down."
Blackout's gaze hardened, his voice cold and calculated. "Then we'll have to change the rules. This game isn't over yet."
As the red moon hung high above them, the Rider's flames burned brighter, casting a light that pierced the darkness of the night.
The night was pierced by the roaring engine of Ghost Rider's hellish motorcycle as he mounted it, flames licking the air around him. The ground beneath the bike cracked, glowing faintly from the infernal heat. The red moon loomed above, casting an eerie glow over the scene.
Suddenly, piercing headlights cut through the darkness. Vehicles screeched to a halt, and FBI agents poured out, their guns drawn and trained on the demonic figure. A commanding voice erupted through a megaphone.
"Freeze! You're surrounded! Step off the bike and surrender!"
Ghost Rider turned his flaming skull, tilting it slightly as if mocking their audacity. He remained silent, his burning sockets glowing brighter.
"Fire!"
The sound of gunfire erupted, bullets ripping through the night air. They struck him relentlessly, small holes tearing through his leather jacket and flaming skeletal frame. Sparks flew as the bullets ricocheted off the bones, but he didn't flinch. Not a single movement betrayed pain or weakness.
The agents paused momentarily, stunned by the ineffectiveness of their assault. Smoke curled from his wounds as they sealed instantly, the hellfire within him repairing any damage.
Ghost Rider raised one hand, his voice a deep, guttural growl that seemed to shake the air. "Vengeance isn't for the weak. You should've stayed home."
With a flick of his wrist, flames erupted around him, scorching the ground in a wide circle. The agents stumbled back, fear flashing in their eyes as the fire grew into towering infernos. One by one, the flames licked at their weapons, melting barrels and magazines into useless slag.
Some agents screamed as their surroundings ignited, their bodies consumed by the Rider's hellfire. Yet, despite the chaos, Ghost Rider didn't revel in their torment. He spared the ones who dropped their weapons, leaving them trembling on the ground.
He revved his bike, the infernal sound louder than the chaos around him. Without sparing another glance at the agents, he sped through the blockade, flames trailing behind him and leaving the area scorched and marked by his vengeance.
The agents left behind stared in disbelief, their weapons useless and their resolve shattered. For those who dared to look into the fire that was Ghost Rider, they knew one thing—no man, no gun, no force could stop the embodiment of vengeance….
***
Alejandra sat cross-legged on the dusty floor of her secluded tent, the flickering flame of a lone candle illuminating the faded pages of the "Devil's Will." Her eyes scanned the ancient script, her breath hitching as she came across a line that seemed to pulse with ominous energy:
"The Darkness erupted all around will be due to a mistake of Mephistopheles, giving power to an ordinary mechanic who will once ruin the rules of Hell, making the Rider work for himself, his own satisfaction."
Her heart raced, the words sinking into her mind like venom.
"Steven Henderson..." she whispered, her voice trembling with realization. "He's not just a pawn in Mephistopheles' game. He's a threat to the entire balance of Hell."
She slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in the stillness. Rising to her feet, she moved to the corner of the tent, where her gear lay. The flickering candlelight cast shadows over her bare, toned figure as she slipped into her battle attire—a form-fitting black leather suit that hugged her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The tight fabric revealed hints of her skin beneath, her body exuding both danger and allure.
As she adjusted the straps and buckles, her eyes glinted with a mix of determination and regret. "If he's going to destroy the order of Hell, I can't let him live. No matter what we've shared."
Alejandra's fingers brushed the hilt of her blade, the cold steel sending a shiver up her spine. She pulled her jacket over her shoulders, the zipper resting just low enough to accentuate her presence.
Stepping out into the moonlit night, she took a deep breath. The air was thick with foreboding, her every step feeling heavier with the burden of her mission.
"This isn't about vengeance anymore," she muttered to herself, gripping her weapon tightly. "It's about keeping Hell's will intact... even if it means killing Steven Henderson."
The flames in her eyes burned brighter as she summoned her Ghost Rider persona, her skeletal visage briefly flickering before retreating into her mortal form. She mounted her hellish bike, revving the engine with a growl that echoed across the barren land.
The road stretched ahead, her destination clear. She wasn't just chasing Steven. She was chasing her own resolve.