"Are you sure that little brat will do as you say?" During the wait for the Quinjet to arrive, Nick Fury couldn't help but curiously question Father Moru. "I know your Catholic Church has its own armed forces. And I don't mean the fancy Swiss Guard from the Vatican; I'm talking about the armed forces of the Inquisition." He pressed further, "Where are you getting your information from? Why haven't I seen any of your people? And how much do you really know about that little brat's organization?"
"This is what God has directed us to do. As for my brothers, they're all dead—killed by the claws of the devil's minions. That boy was also lost from our hands." Father Moru nonchalantly grabbed Fury's flask, clearly satisfied with the single malt whiskey inside—a drink far too expensive for his meager allowance. "As for why I'm still alive, it's entirely God's will." The priest slurred drunkenly, "God spared me so that I could complete this task—to cut off the devil's schemes. As for the wizard who adopted Solomon Damonet, I don't know much about him. But I do know that this boy has strayed from the righteous path."
"How so?" Fury, intrigued, asked why the priest would evaluate Solomon in this way.
"Because he's studying magic! He's abandoned his innate powers—or rather, the wizard deliberately led him away from exploring his own abilities. He was supposed to perform miracles, not foolishly chant incantations." The priest glanced at the S.H.I.E.L.D. director and waved dismissively. "Miracles are not magic. Miracles are instinct, a thought—whatever he desires, he should be able to achieve. He was meant to bear the sins of the world, not… not this. Jesus Christ, magic! Selling himself to gain magic!"
Well, Nick Fury felt like he could no longer follow the drunken yet rhythmic ramblings of the priest. But one thing was clear: if the Quinjet didn't arrive soon, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be left scavenging scraps. This time, Fury wasn't happy with the weapons dealer Solomon had brought him. He wanted to dig deeper, to understand the magical world better—he could no longer afford to remain a muggle, peeking at magic through frosted glass.
Elsewhere, Solomon, riding on Pegasus with his android companion, was tracking a fire-spewing Quinjet in the air. The Spirit of Vengeance seemed determined to shake off the pursuit of the mystic, forcing Solomon to command Pegasus to fly into the clouds to avoid the Ghost Rider's line of sight—assuming it even had eyes.
"Master, but Pegasus glows," the android reminded him. Solomon was pleased with this reminder. He released the reins with one hand and made a motion as if turning a dial, reducing Pegasus's glow by a level—or rather, just slowing it down. The faster Pegasus flew, the brighter it glowed. Now, they were hovering above the Quinjet, looking down at the Ghost Rider below, who had no chance of escaping their watchful eyes. Slowing down didn't matter much.
"Theresa, do you think the little guy will call us for help?" Jeanne asked nervously while holding the Cheshire Cat. The cat, clearly unhappy with its assassin-style outfit, repeatedly walked backward, trying to rid itself of the clothes. However, Jeanne wouldn't let it succeed. Truthfully, Jeanne was just trying to keep herself busy, as the Cheshire Cat's layers of fat wouldn't allow it to remove the outfit on its own. Even biting at the collar or hood proved futile, as its double chin made such efforts pointless.
Faced with Jeanne's question, Bayonetta thought for a moment.
"Maybe," she replied. "All you need to know is that Boya is a boy who keeps his promises."
"Won't this hurt his pride?"
"Oh, my dear Jeanne, he's no macho man. Do you think he'd forget our menstrual cycle schedules? Why do you think he always makes so many desserts during that time of the month? He's just taking care of us. He's a sweet boy—he's the one looking after your pride." Bayonetta leaned in with a sly smile. "Since when did you start caring so much about him? Did his foster mother say something to you?"
"No! I swear, nothing!" Jeanne's ears instantly turned red. She wanted to hide her emotions, but her short white hair couldn't conceal her flustered state. The Cheshire Cat in her arms yowled in protest, annoyed by how tightly she was holding it.
"Shut up, stupid cat. Whatever you say." Bayonetta casually flipped through a magazine, raising her eyebrows as she glanced at her friend. "Just trust him. Besides, Boya's first time has to be mine. I still can't figure out how he managed to control himself during puberty. If it weren't for the usual physiological responses, sometimes I'd even doubt his orientation. Oh, and by the way, the Sorcerer Supreme has prepared a winery in southern France as a gift for us, including all the wine in its cellar. On his birthday, we can—"
"Theresa, he's not even of age yet!" Jeanne interrupted.
"Almost," the witch replied slyly, smirking as she pursed her lips and squinted. "But I imagine Boya's first time will be fiery. Don't you dare sneak off ahead of me!"
"Master, shouldn't we go down and help?" the android asked, watching the skirmish unfold below. "Our target is there, isn't it?"
"Our target is Mephisto's avatar, not the boy." At this moment, the mystic had lowered Pegasus's altitude, allowing the celestial horse to glide slowly while hiding behind a patch of cloud cover. The sudden arrival of the Ghost Rider had thrown the mercenaries into disarray, especially under the relentless firepower of the Quinjet's machine guns. The cars below looked as if they were being trampled by a giant. The Ghost Rider seemed to be enjoying himself, his eerie laughter audible even to Solomon.
But the Quinjet wasn't a fighter jet, and its ammunition was limited. Plus, Johnny Blaze was careful not to harm the boy, which meant many shots missed their mark. The Ghost Rider's opponents were mercenaries. Even with the Hellfire-enhanced Quinjet, it couldn't withstand a few grenades.
"However, I don't mind using the boy as bait, as long as he lures out Mephisto's avatar." Solomon watched the downed Quinjet and the towering flames that erupted from it. "But for now, the Ghost Rider is engaged with them. If you go down, there's a good chance you'll get caught in the crossfire. Let's watch. If the Ghost Rider fails, we'll intervene then."
"But Master, the Ghost Rider has already crashed," the android pointed out in confusion.
"The Ghost Rider doesn't die. He just reverts to human form. Vishanti, has this guy rolled through tar or something? Why are his bones so charred?"
"Master, I believe that's simply due to incomplete combustion," the android analyzed seriously. "Even in such cases, the Ghost Rider's smoke still provides a tactical advantage."
"Stop it, Dana. The Ghost Rider doesn't run on organic combustion. He's not a power plant."
"Master, do you think we could capture the Ghost Rider and use him as a power source? I've studied generator designs. I think Stark Industries could build a compact generator, and the Ghost Rider seems like an excellent renewable energy source."
"Vishanti, what on earth are you thinking?"
"If you don't like that idea, we could also use the Ghost Rider to heat our bathwater…"
"My God, I should never have let you browse the internet. Okay, okay, the Ghost Rider is down, and the mercenaries are retreating. It's your turn, Dana. Remember our goal."
"Yes, Master." The android leaped off Pegasus, landing with a thunderous crash on the road in front of a speeding car. The concrete beneath her high heels shattered into fragments. Facing the oncoming vehicle, she showed no sign of panic, calmly drawing her massive sword and preparing for combat. Dana's sudden appearance startled the mercenaries. However, having just defeated the Ghost Rider, their confidence was sky-high. Even if a dragon appeared before them, they wouldn't hesitate to charge.
Dana plunged her sword into the ground, slicing the oncoming car in half. She then flipped over a nearby jeep, pulling out a semi-conscious boy dressed in a blue down jacket.
This boy, a demon spawn, was the bait Solomon needed.
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