VCM "This is it." Melinda pulled the car to a stop.
Outside the window stretched a desolate cemetery, gravestones scattered like forgotten memories.
In the middle of it all sat a weathered wooden house, the only structure standing against the dying light of the setting sun.
"I've been tracking him since this morning, and I finally found him," Ethan said, his gaze locking onto a sleek, black motorcycle parked outside the house.
Even without its rider, the thing radiated an eerie presence.
"How long until Fury's technical support gets here?" Ethan asked, stepping out of the car.
"They're already here." Melinda barely finished speaking when the sound of approaching engines filled the air.
Five or six black SUVs rolled in, surrounding their position.
"We have tracking devices on all our vehicles," Melinda explained.
"Well, that saves us a lot of time." Ethan stretched as he stepped out of the car, glancing at the sun, which was starting its slow descent.
"Ghost Rider can use his powers in daylight, but this new host? He's not strong enough to fully transform under the sun yet. That gives us an advantage."
Ghost Rider wasn't invincible—just highly resistant to most conventional attacks.
The current host, however, was still inexperienced, and that made things a lot more interesting.
"Sir! Agent 0233 reporting in!" A suited agent stepped forward from the group that had just arrived, snapping a salute.
The dozen or so S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives behind him stood at attention, clearly aware of who they were dealing with.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it's you."
Agent 0233 kept his posture straight, though there was a hint of hesitation in his voice. "It's an honor to be assigned to another mission with you, sir."
An honor? More like a nightmare.
The last time he worked with Ethan, he ended up on an assignment so bizarre it still gave him headaches.
Hopefully, this time wouldn't be as bad.
"You know your orders?" Ethan asked, crossing his arms.
"Yes, sir. Our directive is to follow your commands and those of Agent Melinda May, providing necessary technical and tactical support," Agent 0233 responded professionally.
"Got it." Ethan nodded. "Now, are you guys properly armed?"
"Armed?" The agent blinked, then quickly caught on. "Ah, you mean firepower? You don't have to worry about that.
We brought ten rocket launchers, plus a stockpile of high-explosive ordnance. If necessary, we can level this entire cemetery."
"Ten launchers, huh?" Ethan smirked. "It's daytime, so that firepower might just be enough."
Ghost Rider might be immune to most physical attacks, but energy-based damage?
That was a different story.
Time for the so-called Spirit of Vengeance to experience a real fear—raw, calculated destruction.
Agent 0233 cleared his throat. "Sir, what's our next course of action?"
Ethan's smirk widened, making the agent instinctively tense up.
Every time Ethan got that look, things were about to get… weird.
"We hitting him with everything once he steps outside?" Agent 0233 guessed.
"Are you an idiot?" Ethan shot back flatly. "That would be the worst possible approach."
Ghost Rider's current host was vulnerable in daylight, meaning right now, he was just a regular guy.
Blowing up the house at this moment?
That was overkill.
Sure, the Rider probably wouldn't die from it, but Ethan had no intention of walking into Fury's office later while carrying a charred, pixelated mess of a man.
"Then… what's the plan, sir?" Agent 0233 asked, bracing himself.
"I go in first. You guys wait for my signal," Ethan instructed.
"I understand, sir! As soon as you leave the house, we'll fire everything!"
Ethan facepalmed. "Are you brainless? The second I step out, he's going to know something's off. If you wait until he's prepared, your bombardment won't do squat."
Agent 0233 swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of just how long this mission was going to feel.
"Then... should we adjust the firepower? Sir, you might want to find some cover when the time comes. We'll try to create an explosion-safe zone around you," Agent 0233 suggested hesitantly.
Ethan groaned, running a hand down his face. "You are unbelievably hopeless."
Agent 0233 flinched.
"You don't even know where the target is inside that house, and you're talking about creating a 'safe zone'? That's just giving him a way out," Ethan snapped. "Listen up—I'm going in with a tracking device. Once I give the signal, you fire everything at me. Got it?"
Agent 0233's eyes widened. "W-What?"
Ethan grabbed his shoulder, shaking him slightly for emphasis. "I mean it! Aim right at my location. I don't want any of this 'near-miss' nonsense. I want direct hits—maximum firepower. Every explosive you've got, throw it in that house. Are we clear?"
"Agent May…" Agent 0233 turned to her, his face practically begging for some semblance of sanity.
Melinda folded her arms and shot him a cold, unimpressed stare. "This is the standard of agents nowadays? You're embarrassing."
Agent 0233 nearly choked. "B-But—"
"Doubting a superior's orders is unacceptable," she continued sternly. "Either follow through or step aside."
Agent 0233 let out a defeated groan. "Understood, ma'am."
Ethan smirked. "Good. Stick to the plan."
He fastened a small, high-precision tracker onto his wrist and strode toward the wooden house in the middle of the desolate cemetery.
Without hesitation, he knocked on the door.
A moment later, a tired voice called out from inside. "Who is it?"
Ethan grinned. "Checking the water meter!"
Inside the house, silence.
After a long pause, the voice sighed. "Figures… Come in. The door's open."
Ethan pushed open the creaky wooden door and stepped inside.
Seated on an old couch, sipping from a chipped coffee mug, was a frail-looking old man with white hair and a thick mustache.
He didn't even turn to acknowledge his visitor.
"Young man, what do you want from me?" the old man asked calmly.
"Nothing much. Just a little community service," Ethan said with a smirk.
"We're running a program to support senior citizens in need. You know, checking in, making sure you're comfortable. Old folks like you are our priority."
The old man sighed heavily. "Are you messing with me?"
"Nope. You're the one pretending not to know why I'm here." Ethan's smirk faded as his tone grew serious. "Where is Ghost Rider?"
A low, raspy voice answered from the far end of the room. "Are you looking for me?"
The opposite door creaked open, and out stepped Ghost Rider—his flaming skull casting eerie shadows across the dimly lit room.
"That's right, you're exactly who I'm looking for." Ethan stated, his expression unwavering.
Ghost Rider scoffed, stepping toward the side of the road, his boots crunching against the dry dirt.
Just as he moved, the old man beside him raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
There was a silent understanding between them—one that said, 'Think before you act.'
"Are you here for revenge after last night?" the old man asked, his voice cold and measured.
His eyes studied Ethan carefully, weighing his intent.
If this was a vendetta, then today would not end well.
Ethan didn't bother hiding his thoughts. "Personally? Yeah, I'd love to settle the score."
His smirk widened. "But lucky for you, my boss is interested in you. I'm just here to bring you in."
The old man's posture relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "So, no fight?"
"Didn't say that." Ethan's smile sharpened. "If you come quietly, great. If not, I'm happy to get rough."
Ghost Rider's grip tightened into fists. "Not happening. Your boss? He's either a demon or a dark sorcerer, and I'm not interested in meeting either."
"You've got it all wrong." Ethan shrugged. "The guy I work for is a one-eyed bureaucrat. Not a trace of magic in him."
Ghost Rider let out a sharp laugh. "You expect me to believe that? You reek of dark energy. That's straight from the Dark Dimension. I can smell it a mile away."
Ethan frowned, finally understanding why Ghost Rider had attacked him so aggressively before.
The energy that Ancient One siphoned from the Dark Dimension must have left a mark on him. It all made sense now.
"Alright, I won't lie to you. Yeah, I've got a sorcerer backing me, and yeah, she takes power from the Dark Dimension. But she's no dark sorcerer. If anything, she spends most of her time stopping people like that."
Ghost Rider's laughter turned mocking. "A sorcerer who taps into dark magic but is somehow a saint? Right. Next, you'll tell me demons are out there reading bedtime stories to angels."
Ethan sighed. "Why does no one believe me when I tell the truth?" Then, his playful tone vanished, and his eyes darkened.
"Fine. Let's cut to the chase." His voice was firm, cold. "You have two choices. You come with me now, no fuss. Or, I beat you into the ground and drag you there myself."
Ghost Rider's hollow sockets flickered with fire as he took a step forward. "Or there's a third option." His voice dropped to a growl. "I purify your tainted soul, leave your smoldering body in the rubble, and ride off while your backup watches helplessly."
Flames roared around him, licking the edges of the room.
The fire didn't consume the space yet, but the threat was clear.
Ghost Rider was preparing to fight.
Ethan, however, simply smirked. "Oh, you're in for a surprise."
With a press of the communicator in his pocket, he issued a single command: "Fire at me!"
"What?" The old man's eyes widened in shock.
His gaze snapped to the window just in time to see ten rockets streaking through the sky, their trails cutting through the afternoon light like fiery lances.
Ghost Rider barely had time to register the insanity of it all before realization set in.
"You crazy bast—"
The explosion tore through the house, obliterating everything in its path.
And that wasn't the end of it. Under Agent 0233's command, a second wave of rockets was launched, followed swiftly by a third.
Yet even after three rounds of bombardment, he wasn't finished.
Because some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s vehicles had autopilot functions, Agent 0233 took full advantage—stuffing every last explosive he could find into a self-driving car and sending it straight into the wreckage.
The vehicle surged forward, disappearing into the ruins just before a deafening explosion tore through the area.
As fire and smoke roared into the sky, Agent 0233, ears ringing from the relentless detonations, suddenly dropped to his knees.
A manic, almost euphoric laugh bubbled from his throat. "He should be more than satisfied with this kind of explosion, right?! Hahaha…!"
It was clear now—either the sheer carnage had completely broken the man, or he had awakened some kind of terrifying new personality trait.
From the inferno and dust-filled ruins, a figure emerged.
The swirling smoke and debris were violently blown away, scattering in all directions as if repelled by an unseen force.
Ethan stood at the center of it all, completely untouched.
"Ghost Rider," he called out, voice calm yet dripping with confidence. "How does that firepower taste?"
A groan sounded from the wreckage as Ghost Rider clawed his way out of the rubble, his charred skeletal form barely holding together.
His leather jacket was shredded, his body battered and scorched from the sheer force of the attacks.
Despite his injuries, the flames of his skull still burned bright.
"I really underestimated you…" Ghost Rider rasped, shaking the debris from his shoulders. "You're way more dangerous than I thought."
Ethan cracked his neck, unimpressed. "Surrender now. You're not getting away."
Ghost Rider let out a hoarse chuckle. "Don't be so sure about that."
Before Ethan could respond, Ghost Rider staggered toward a pile of twisted, smoking metal—a broken-down motorcycle, barely recognizable beneath the wreckage.
His ride.
The once fearsome Hellcycle now looked like nothing more than a hunk of ruined scrap.
But the moment Ghost Rider placed his charred hand on its frame, a surge of supernatural energy pulsed through it.
The wreckage groaned, then twisted and reformed, its molten metal repairing itself at an impossible speed.
In mere seconds, the Hellcycle was reborn, looking even more vicious than before, its demonic frame adorned with fresh, jagged spikes.
"You really think you can escape?" Ethan scoffed, glancing up at the bright midday sun.
"It's daytime. You shouldn't even be able to maintain this form, let alone ride off into the sunset."
If it weren't for the thick clouds of smoke still blotting out the sky, the direct sunlight would have already forced Ghost Rider back into his human form.
And without his supernatural strength, there'd be no way he could outrun Ethan now.
But then Ethan noticed something—a small, round object Ghost Rider had been clutching to his chest this entire time.
He had protected it carefully, even through the explosions.
An umbrella.
A motorcycle-mounted sunshade umbrella.
Ethan could only stare in sheer disbelief as Ghost Rider opened the ridiculous contraption, secured it to the Hellcycle's front, and revved the engine.
"Oh, come on—seriously?!" Ethan shouted, utterly dumbfounded.
The Hellcycle roared to life, its wheels igniting as Ghost Rider sped off under the comically large umbrella, shielding himself from the sunlight as he tore through the battlefield.
Ethan rubbed his temples. "This has to be a joke."
With a sigh, he shifted his gaze away from the absurd escape, his focus turning back to the smoking ruins.
His eyes landed on a lifeless body amid the rubble—the old man who had been with Ghost Rider.
Unlike Ghost Rider, he had been farther from the explosion's epicenter, but after such relentless bombardment, his corpse wasn't exactly in pristine condition.
Yet Ethan didn't look concerned.
Instead, a smirk crept onto his face. "Alright, enough playing dead. Time to get up."
The body remained motionless, the only sounds coming from the distant crackle of flames.
But Ethan's expression didn't change.
He stepped closer, studying the corpse.
"The wounds are already starting to close," Ethan remarked, amusement in his voice. "And you really thought you could fool me? I can spot a faker from a mile away, beside, I can see the wind vector coming from your nose."
At those words, the 'corpse' stirred.
The old man's bloodied eyes snapped open, locking onto Ethan with a weary yet calculating gaze. His lips twisted into a complicated expression as he finally spoke.
"I assumed you'd chase after him," he admitted, voice hoarse yet steady. "But it looks like Ghost Rider wasn't your true objective here after all."