They had arrived through a spark portal.
And naturally, they would return the same way.
As a ring of sparks bloomed, Hawk bid farewell to the Ancient One. After two days of seclusion in Kamar-Taj, he stepped through with Gwen, hand in hand—and the next moment, they were back inside the New York Sanctum.
Soon after, the two emerged from the nearly invisible temple, returned to their car, and Hawk pressed the accelerator toward Bleecker Street.
Just then—
Gwen, fastening her seatbelt, glanced at the midmorning sun shining over New York and blinked.
"Wait, something's not right!"
"What is it?" Hawk looked over, curious.
She frowned. "When we went to Kamar-Taj, it was morning here, and it was also morning there. But logically, shouldn't it have been night there?"
Hawk chuckled. "That's the Ancient One's work."
She arched a brow.
"She didn't want us suffering jet lag. Don't forget—the Time Stone is in her hands."
Realization dawned across Gwen's face.
…
Half an hour later.
The Audi A8 pulled into the garage.
After dropping Gwen home safely, Hawk vanished. In the next instant, a streak of crimson-black light ripped across the skies, arrowing toward Fort Stockton, Texas.
Back at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York operations hub, alarms flared again.
"Damn, him again."
"Where's he headed now?"
"Trajectory says Texas—again."
"Call Agent Carter."
"On it."
The handful of agents on holiday duty already knew—only a few in the entire agency had experience handling Hawk, and Sharon Carter was their best bet.
…
Meanwhile, on a bus from Pottsville County, Pennsylvania bound for New York—
Johnny Blaze sat in the back row, looking worn out, his Nicolas Cage face haggard.
Don't ask why the Ghost Rider was on a bus.
Because even the Spirit of Vengeance couldn't cross half the country in a single night.
And more importantly—he couldn't appear by day outside Texas.
So by day, Johnny rode buses like a regular man. By night, he stole motorcycles, transformed, and cackled his way across state lines.
He should've reached New York yesterday.
But S.H.I.E.L.D. had him flagged.
The Rider wasn't afraid of S.H.I.E.L.D.—but Johnny was. Thinking law enforcement was after him, he wasted a whole day hiding before resuming his hellride.
His bad luck started with himself.
He'd canceled a stunt show without notice. One furious S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had paid big money for front-row seats—and swore to track him down.
From a private grudge, it escalated.
They caught him on satellite—transforming, blowing up a gas station, stealing a bike, laughing maniacally as he rode through the flames.
From that moment, it was official business.
S.H.I.E.L.D. mobilized.
And yet Johnny's Rider instincts let him slip their net again and again—until he boarded a bus east.
He should've been safe. Only three more hours until New York.
Then he felt Hawk's marked aura streak south, straight back to Texas.
Johnny nearly wept.
But what could he do? His father's soul still needed saving.
Muttering under his breath, he stumbled toward the driver.
"Pull over! My house is on fire!"
The driver hit the brakes so hard Johnny almost toppled over.
Five seconds later, the bus roared away, leaving him alone on an empty road.
Only then did it hit him—
He should've waited for the next transfer station.
…
Back at the canyon where he'd once battled the Earth Demon—
Hawk landed, and instantly the aura of Hell tried to press down upon him.
But the law of life and death coursed through him, sweeping it aside.
Before, when my Underworld didn't exist, you could claim my soul belonged to Hell. But now? I've built my own realm. Why would I go to yours?
He flexed his limbs, pulled out his phone, and answered the call.
"Sharon."
"Hawk, you're back at Fort Stockton again?"
"Yeah." Hawk chuckled. "That stunt show you mentioned sounded fun. Thought I'd come watch."
He shouldn't have mentioned it.
On the other end, Sharon's frustration boiled over. "You mean Johnny Blaze? Don't remind me! That bastard turned out to be a demon!"
Hawk's brows rose.
She explained how she'd bought expensive tickets, only for the show to be canceled. When she tracked Johnny down to give him a piece of her mind, she saw him transform into the Rider.
"He's long gone now—already fled to Pennsylvania."
"Not too late. Just in time."
With that, Hawk knew Mephisto's "gift" for him was none other than the Ghost Rider.
And thinking of Johnny's exhausting two-day trek eastward, Hawk almost laughed aloud.
He restrained himself, though, and told Sharon calmly, "He's coming for me. A word of advice—tell your people not to approach him at night."
She blinked. "Why not?"
"He was once a Hell-Lord. Mephisto defeated him, turned him into a Spirit of Vengeance to harvest souls. You tell me what happens if you get too close."
"God…" Sharon hissed, then quickly said, "Thanks. I'll report this right away. But if he's coming for you, what will you—"
"That's why I'm here," Hawk said with a smile.
Click.
The intel spread fast.
Two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents cruising the highway spotted Johnny thumbing a ride. They were about to pounce—when the new orders arrived.
Johnny, meanwhile, grinned as a Chevy SUV slowed down. Finally, a ride!
Instead, the vehicle roared past, its suited occupants staring straight ahead as if he didn't exist.
A crow cawed overhead.
"WTF—" Johnny sputtered. "What the hell's wrong with people here? No hospitality at all!"
…
Night fell.
Fifty kilometers south of Fort Stockton, in a barren canyon, Hawk sat on a cliff, gazing at the rising moon.
Round. Bright.
It reminded him of childhood nights at the church, when his sister Anya would copy him, both of them lifting their chins toward the sky.
But after she died, he'd stopped.
Too painful. Too raw.
Tonight was the first time in years he let himself truly look at the moon.
Because—
By dawn, he would bring Anya back.
That was why he'd shaped Elysium so carefully. So she could rest in comfort, even in the Underworld.
Soon, Anya. I'm coming for you.
From afar, the cackling laugh of a demon echoed.
Hawk lowered his gaze toward the sound.
And there—
…
(End of Chapter)
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