Texas.
The town of Woodland.
The chaos of Ultron that had engulfed the world seemed to have little effect on this remote southern town.
The people who lived here were typical small-town residents: poor, dirty, uneducated, quick on the trigger, and often prone to racist prejudices.
Still, isolation had its advantages. The war with artificial intelligence had not significantly changed their daily lives. There was still time for drinking, for talking, and for routines that never changed.
In front of the local tavern was parked a 1969 Dodge War Horse, a true classic muscle car.
From it stepped out a young man in a leather jacket, with a high forehead and hair that already showed signs of receding, a degree of baldness similar to Coulson's.
"A glass of bourbon," he said as soon as he walked inside.
"Also, I'm looking for someone... Johnny Blaze."
The young man approached the bar, dropped a few hundred-dollar bills, and sat down.
"You must be Robbie, aren't you?" a voice came from behind him.
He turned and saw the man he was looking for – Johnny Blaze, the previous generation of Ghost Rider.
"Kid, you're dealing with something very dangerous," said Blaze in a deep, weary voice.
"Believe me, you can't win. I tried."
Johnny was now a middle-aged man, with his hairline receded far back, almost completely bald.
For nearly seven years he had carried the curse of the Ghost Rider, during which he had fought Mephisto countless times and suffered just as many losses.
"I have no choice," Robbie replied, his gaze never leaving the older man.
"My uncle's soul is threatened."
Robbie Reyes sat across from Johnny, and Blaze watched him just as carefully. Both were Ghost Riders, but their powers were not the same.
Johnny carried within him a vengeful spirit named Zarathos, once the lord of the Flaming Hell, whom Mephisto had defeated, erased his memories, and enslaved. Zarathos became the source of Johnny's powers.
Robbie, on the other hand, drew his strength from the soul of his late uncle Eli. His power was much weaker than Johnny's.
"Why did you come to me then?" Blaze asked, clearly uneasy.
The reason he lived secluded in this remote place was that he was hiding from Mephisto. And now someone had found him.
"We need to capture a man's soul," Robbie said, pulling out his phone and showing him a picture.
Johnny didn't even look at the photo. He knew that if Mephisto wanted someone, he would offer his collaborator generous rewards. But to fulfill the promise? That was another matter.
"He promises..." Robbie continued, "that after we finish this, he won't come for you for ten years."
Johnny fell silent. He knew that in nine out of ten cases, those were empty words. But ten years of peace was something he could only dream of.
"I promised," he finally said and stood up.
He left the tavern and whistled softly. A retro Harley-Davidson motorcycle, without a rider, instantly roared and stopped beside him.
"Kid, I suppose you're going on this mission too?" he asked Robbie. "Can you keep up with me?"
Suddenly, Johnny's motorcycle ignited and transformed into a hellish machine with a skull on its front, and Blaze turned into a flaming skeleton.
"Of course," Robbie replied, getting into his muscle car.
As soon as he started it, the vehicle was engulfed in flames, turning into a demonic warhorse from hell.
"Old man, hold on," Robbie said with a grin.
Johnny nodded. Two flaming skeletons at the same moment started their blazing machines, and in the silence of the night the thunder of engines echoed as they disappeared down the road.
---
Not long after the two generations of Ghost Riders left the town.
The street was quiet. Black mist slowly gathered between the buildings, and from it a figure began to take shape.
It was a demon with pitch-black, spike-like hair — Blackheart.
The son of Mephisto.
The relationship between father and son? It was nowhere near warm. On the contrary, the hatred between them was sharp enough to be cut with a knife.
For years, Blackheart had been trying to overthrow his father so he could rule the Flaming Hell himself.
Seven years ago, he betrayed Mephisto and came to Earth, seeking to claim the holy relic known as the Contract of San Venganze.
To his misfortune, he was defeated by Johnny Blaze, who had just become the new Ghost Rider, and Blackheart barely escaped with his life.
He returned to Hell, only to be beaten again by his own father.
But now...
Blackheart had finally awaited his chance for revenge — the Holy Soul.
"Father… your plan is completely clear to me," he said coldly, staring up at the dark sky.
This time, coming to Earth had cost him dearly, but he was ready to pay any price. As long as he got hold of that holy soul, it would all be worth it.
"When I obtain it… then you will be the one to fall, father."
---
Meanwhile, Aron had no idea that his soul had once again become the target of another dangerous group.
But even if he knew, it wouldn't surprise him. Souls in this world were often just merchandise for sale.
Still, for him there was something more important than worrying about the trade of souls.
"Coulson!"
"Get out here!"
"You damn fake friend!"
"I still treat you like a great man, and this is how you repay me!"
From the moment all the space carriers were destroyed, S.H.I.E.L.D. was forced to relocate its command center back to the Trident headquarters on Earth.
But now...
The Trident building was on the verge of becoming the target of Aron's wrath.
"Coulson, what the hell did you do?"
"I told you to approach him with friendship, to win him over with sincerity, not to enrage him!"
Inside the run-down building, Nick Fury, still wet from being pulled out of the sea, didn't have time to think about the consequences.
He had a pile of problems in front of him, and now there was Aron, literally looking for Coulson with murderous intent.
"I…" Coulson shrank into the corner of the room, looking like he hoped he could disappear. "Director… maybe you could go out and talk to Aron, if he asks for me, tell him I'm not here, please."
"Me? Me go out?" Fury laughed angrily and glared furiously at Coulson.
"Did you see what it looks like out there? If I go out, I wouldn't even get two sentences out before he cuts me down."
"I told you this operation had holes in the plan," Skye spoke up, sitting in another corner of the room. She was the one who had helped Coulson devise the approach to Aron. "But you didn't want to listen to me."
"Not now…" Coulson lowered his head, his tone almost pleading. "All I have left is regret."
His eyes darted across everyone present, searching for even the slightest hint of help.
"Is there any way to fix this?" he asked quietly. "If you ask me to go out, I'm a dead man. Just tell him… tell him that I really wasn't against him."
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