Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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*****

Purify...

Of course, Mike wasn't actually going to purify Coulson.

No matter what, the man was still his friend. Last time Clark went to New Mexico, Coulson had even helped him...

More importantly, the Coulson Theorem had already played out. Even if he purified him now, it would be meaningless.

Damn it!

Is the only option now to go on vacation somewhere off Earth—where Coulson is guaranteed not to appear?

But if...

If something still went wrong even when Coulson wasn't there, then that would mean...

Impossible!

There's no way that could happen.

Mike shook his head firmly.

"Mike?"

Coulson called out softly, instinctively stepping back.

For just a brief moment earlier, he had felt...dangerous.

Mike came back to his senses, noticed Coulson's expression, and smiled calmly.

"It's nothing."

"That's a relief!" Coulson let out a breath. "It's been a while."

He had finally found his lucky star again.

Coulson silently added that part to himself.

Mike nodded.

If everything's fine, it's better we don't see each other at all.

Mike added that part silently, too.

He turned toward a nearby mechanical bull and flicked his head toward it.

"Wanna compete?"

"Absolutely!" Coulson's eyes lit up. "Loser buys dinner?"

Mike gave him a look like he was looking at an idiot.

"If you want to treat me to dinner, you don't need such a lame excuse."

"Uh—hahaha..."

Coulson laughed awkwardly.

The competition began. Mike rode the bull with effortless ease, like he was part of it, easily winning both the prize money and a free meal from Coulson.

There weren't many participants, so the prize wasn't large—just 500 bucks.

But Gwen cheered loudly for Mike, and that made the whole thing deeply satisfying for him.

Leaving the rodeo arena, the three of them, along with a certain "third wheel," wandered through the expo. As the sun began to set, they eventually left the fairgrounds.

Meanwhile...

Johnny Blaze hummed a cheerful tune as he showered.

There were few things in life that thrilled him more than pulling off a death-defying stunt—except maybe rekindling things with an old flame.

His feelings for Roxanne Simpson ran deep. Even though he'd let her down in the past and they hadn't seen each other for over a decade, just one glance... a few words... and the fire between them had reignited.

Thinking about what was going to happen tonight, Johnny looked down and chuckled stupidly.

Don't rush. Soon, we'll be together again.

Suddenly, his body began to overheat—intensely.

At first, he thought it was just his excitement, but as he kept showering, he realized something was wrong.

It felt like a fire was igniting within him, spreading pain through every inch of his body. It was as if he himself were about to burst into flames.

What the hell is going on?

He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. Then, a memory flashed—those dreams he'd been having lately, of a flaming figure...

The temperature kept rising. He stumbled forward, and the water dripping down his skin began to evaporate almost instantly.

"Ugh!"

He cried out in agony. His whole body was burning, and that fiery image in his mind grew clearer and clearer.

Then—he saw someone.

A shadow stood just outside the frosted glass of the shower door.

He didn't know who it was. He didn't know what was happening. But in desperation, he reached out.

"H-Help me...!"

"Dear Johnny, don't be afraid. This is perfectly normal."

The words snapped Johnny's mind into brief clarity. He immediately recognized the voice.

That man—the one who had made the deal with him, who had saved his father… only to kill his father. The one who had torn him from the love of his life—

That bastard!

He growled through gritted teeth and forced himself up, snarling in pain.

He grabbed a towel, threw open the bathroom door, and confronted the man.

An old man with silver hair, neatly combed, stood smiling—like he was admiring a flawless masterpiece.

"You!" Johnny roared. "You bastard!"

He staggered toward the man.

"Heh."

Mephisto chuckled softly and tapped Johnny's chest with the end of his cane.

"Yes, dear Johnny. It's me."

He looked Johnny over—skin glowing red like a boiled lobster, ready to erupt into flame—and laughed.

"Well? Do you like the gift I gave you? This new power of yours?"

"What... what's happening to me?"

Johnny struggled to speak, rubbing at his burning eyes before collapsing onto the floor.

"You'll know soon enough, my knight."

Mephisto looked down upon Johnny Blaze with a cold smile.

"Go. Eliminate that man. Bring me his soul. That will be your first task."

As Mephisto's words echoed in his mind, an image—a face—suddenly appeared in Johnny Blaze's consciousness.

Johnny roared in agony, his eyes seemingly igniting with flickering flames.

Mephisto watched him with an indifferent expression.

This was the price of the Ghost Rider's first transformation. Once he experienced it, the next time wouldn't be nearly as painful.

So, you've come here after all.

Mephisto recalled the man he had seen during Johnny Blaze's stunt performance yesterday—Mike—and a faint smile curled at the corner of his lips.

This time, he would claim that man's soul no matter what.

Yes, his son was currently searching for the Contract of San Venganza, hoping to come after him. But a child is still just a child. Once he obtained that power, he would understand the gulf between them.

The San Venganza Contract was merely one of the more impressive deals in Mephisto's endless existence of soul-trading.

To think someone could defeat him with just that? Utterly delusional.

Far more than San Venganza, what Mephisto truly desired was Mike's soul.

"Go now, my knight—bring me his soul!"

Mephisto murmured.

Johnny's body writhed in greater torment. Cracks began to split across his skin, glowing with searing heat.

Mephisto simply smiled as he watched, his form fading rapidly—then vanishing completely.

In the next instant, Johnny Blaze slammed his fist against the floor in pain. But what shocked him even more was the tiny spark of fire that leapt from his knuckles.

Before he could react, more flames burst out from within him.

His skin, muscles, hair—even his internal organs—were all being consumed by an infernal blaze.

"Aaaahhh!"

With a scream of unbearable pain, he was fully engulfed by the flames of Hell.

A flaming skeletal figure now stood where Johnny had once been.

Slowly, the creature rose to its feet, glancing down at its charred form. It rolled its neck, bones cracking, adjusting to its new body.

Hellfire danced over the figure's bones, yet it didn't ignite anything around it. That was because hellfire only burned what the Ghost Rider willed it to burn—or spared what he chose not to harm.

"Ah... not bad this time."

A deep, guttural voice rumbled from the skull's mouth.

He was now the Ghost Rider. He was still Johnny Blaze—but Johnny had lost all control.

His consciousness had become that of a spectator, watching his own body move under the command of the Rider.

Thud.

The towel around his waist slipped and fell to the ground.

He looked down.

Silence.

(End of Chapter)