The air in the garage was heavy with the scent of gasoline and metal. Steven Henderson sat hunched over his workbench, wiping the grease off his hands. His mind replayed the chaos of the night before—the screams, the fire, the haunting stare of Blackout. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to steady his nerves. Just as he stood to grab a wrench, a shadow fell across the doorway.
Alejandra Jones stood there, her silhouette illuminated by the flickering light of the streetlamp outside. Her confident smirk played on her lips as she stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the concrete floor.
"Steven," she purred, her voice dripping with a honeyed sweetness. "I thought I'd drop by. Heard you've been... struggling lately."
Steven raised an eyebrow, sensing the edge in her tone but brushing it off. "Struggling? That's rich, coming from someone who ran off the moment things got messy." He leaned against his workbench, crossing his arms. "What do you want, Alejandra?"
She approached him slowly, her hips swaying. "Oh, I just wanted to... talk," she said, her gaze drifting to the shutter behind him. "Maybe a private chat?"
Steven frowned but nodded. He turned to pull the garage shutter down, the metallic clang echoing in the enclosed space. When he turned back, his eyes flickered to her hands, catching the glint of metal—a sharp garage tool. His instincts kicked in immediately.
"Nice try," he growled, stepping back as she lunged forward, aiming for his chest.
Their bodies collided, the clang of the metal tool hitting the concrete floor reverberating in the garage. Alejandra was quick, swinging at him with deadly precision, but Steven blocked her attacks with the strength of someone who had fought demons themselves.
"Is this your idea of a private chat?" Steven grunted, twisting her wrist and forcing her to drop the tool.
Alejandra smirked, her eyes gleaming with malice. "You don't understand, Steven. You're not supposed to be here. You're a mistake in the devil's plan, and I'm here to fix it."
Steven dodged her next strike, his fists clenched. "You're going to have to try harder than that."
With a sudden burst of strength, she tackled him into the wall, grabbing another tool from the workbench. She stabbed it into his abdomen, the metal piercing through his flesh. Steven let out a pained groan as she pushed him back, sending him crashing into a pile of scrap metal.
Alejandra stood over him, her expression cold and unyielding. "You think you're invincible, don't you?" she spat. "You're nothing but a pawn, and I'll make sure you burn like one."
Steven's eyes darkened, the fire within him roaring to life. The flames erupted from his wounds, cauterizing them instantly. He rose slowly, his body enveloped in hellfire as he transformed into the Ghost Rider.
"You made a big mistake, Alejandra," the Rider growled, his voice like gravel scraping against stone.
Alejandra's eyes widened in fear but quickly narrowed as she too transformed, her body consumed by her own hellish flames. The two Riders clashed, their chains whipping through the air, tearing through the walls of the garage.
Steven swung his fiery chain, smashing it into Alejandra's side, sending her crashing into a stack of tires. She retaliated, her chain slicing through the air and grazing Steven's shoulder, but he barely flinched. His flames only burned brighter, his anger fueling his power.
The garage was a warzone, the heat of their battle melting tools and shattering glass. Alejandra fought with all her might, but Steven's raw power overwhelmed her. With one final swing of his chain, he knocked her to the ground, her flames flickering out as she reverted to her human form.
She lay there, exhausted, her jacket in tatters, revealing more than she intended. Her chest rose and fell as she gasped for breath, her body too weak to continue.
Steven towered over her, his skull blazing with fury. "You wanted to kill me?" he snarled. "You can't even stand against me."
Alejandra crawled to her knees, her voice trembling as she begged, "Steven... please... don't."
The Rider's flames flickered, his fury momentarily subsiding. He turned away, grabbing a nearby bike and hurling it at her feet.
"Next time, don't miss," he growled, his voice echoing as he mounted his own bike.
Alejandra watched helplessly as he rode away, the heat of his flames still lingering in the air. She sat there, defeated, her torn clothes barely clinging to her battered body. But as the sound of his engine faded into the distance, a sinister smile crept across her lips.
"This isn't over, Rider," she whispered, her voice laced with venom.
***
The air grew heavier as the red glow of the moon hung ominously over the abandoned warehouse. Inside, Blackout sat perched on a shattered concrete block, his gaunt frame illuminated faintly by the flickering flames of a nearby barrel fire. Wallow loomed in the shadows, his watery form rippling eerily as if the room itself was alive and watching.
Blackout's voice broke the silence, a venomous rasp that sent a chill through the room. "He's distracted. Fighting his own kind, wasting time on petty revenge. Just like the devil predicted... the Ghost Rider's emotions are his greatest weakness."
Wallow moved closer, his steps echoing like splashes on a rainy street. His liquid-like body shifted and twisted as he spoke. "You mean the girl... Alejandra? She failed, didn't she?"
Blackout sneered, his pale lips curling into a twisted grin. "She was a pawn. Mephistopheles thought giving her power would ensure obedience, but look where that got her—on her knees, begging for life. Pathetic."
He stood, his dark coat flowing like a shadow in motion. "Still, it worked in our favor. The more he fights, the more he burns himself out. The flames won't last forever."
Wallow's form churned as he chuckled, a sound like gurgling water. "You think he's too blinded by his vengeance to see the bigger picture?"
Blackout turned to him, his glowing red eyes flaring with malice. "Of course he is. That's what makes him vulnerable. His rage is consuming him, and soon, he'll either destroy himself or stumble right into our trap."
Wallow's voice grew more serious. "But don't forget, he's still strong—too strong for us to face recklessly. Abigor learned that the hard way."
Blackout clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "Abigor was a fool. He underestimated the Rider, and he paid the price. But I won't make the same mistake. We'll wait, let him come to us. And when he does..."
He paused, his grin widening. "We'll tear his world apart."
Wallow nodded, his watery form shifting with a sinister ripple. "What about the piece? It's still missing."
Blackout's grin vanished, replaced by a scowl. "The caretaker still has it. And if the Rider reaches him first..." He slammed his fist into the wall, cracking the concrete. "Then we'll both burn in hell for failing."
The flames in the barrel flared suddenly, as though responding to his anger. Wallow watched silently as Blackout turned to the shadows, his voice low and full of menace.
"Prepare yourself. The real fight begins soon."
Wallow dissolved into the ground, his voice echoing like a ripple across still water. "As you command."
Blackout stood alone, the flickering fire casting his shadow against the wall, distorted and monstrous. His red eyes gleamed with dark determination.