The sky was forever gray.
Ash drifted endlessly from above.
The air reeked of sulfur.
This was Hell.
The instant the vortex swallowed the Ghost Rider, his body unraveled.
The Spirit of Vengeance shot off like a streak of light toward the only true structure in this infernal realm—Mephisto's palace.
Johnny Blaze, by contrast, slammed into the blood-soaked, ash-strewn ground like a broken bird.
Before he could even collect himself, a roar thundered from the distant palace—filled with fury and disappointment.
"Hawk!!!"
Thud!
Johnny had just managed to rise when a scaled, clawed hand clamped around his throat and lifted him from the ground.
He grabbed at it instinctively, staring into the hellish face of the Devil himself.
Scorched, crimson-black skin.
Jagged fangs.
Flaring nostrils spitting sparks.
Twisted horns rising from his skull.
The master of Hell—Mephisto.
"You…" Johnny rasped.
"Useless worm."
Mephisto's voice was low, rough, dripping with disgust. Without another word, he hurled Johnny aside.
Johnny staggered up again, still confused, still believing he was on Earth.
"You tricked me! You said if he saw the Rider's eyes—"
Smack!
A massive hand struck him down before he could finish.
Mephisto's golden eyes burned with rage. Smoke puffed from his nose, ready to ignite the air.
Johnny pushed himself up once more, stunned. In his memory, Mephisto had always appeared as a polite gentleman. Now, the raw demon form was unbearable to behold.
And still—
"You lied to me. This isn't my fault. Where's my father?"
"Fool!"
The golden eyes were merciless.
"Had you not been arrogant and stupid, he never would have exploited a weakness. As long as you remained one with the Spirit of Vengeance, no attack could touch you. Not even the Sorcerer Supreme could have cast you back to Hell. But you—"
Johnny flinched.
Mephisto spat venom.
"You dared to separate. You disobeyed me."
He didn't know how Hawk resisted the Penance Stare. But he knew this—if Johnny had stayed fused, the Rider could not have been defeated. Not by anyone.
Instead, here stood the failure. A crawling insect daring to demand his father.
Mephisto's disgust was plain.
Two winged demons landed beside him.
"Take this wretch to the cages," Mephisto growled. "Let him suffer the pain of separation from his father for ten thousand years."
The demons advanced.
Panic set in. Johnny screamed.
"No! You lied to me! We had a deal! Give me my father back!"
The demons ignored him. They seized him, wings beating, carrying him away. His desperate cries faded into the choking air.
Mephisto remained, flames snorting from his nostrils. With the pest removed, he turned to the memories brought back by the Spirit of Vengeance.
A moment later, his hulking body trembled. Another furious roar shook Hell.
"No! Hawk!!!"
He had seen it—seen the Rider's last vision at the graveyard.
His son, Blackheart, was dead.
Even the shard of the Law of Life and Death had been stolen.
Now it all made sense.
That was how Hawk had resisted the Penance Stare.
But—so fast?
Only days had passed. Two at most.
Impossible. No one could forge a new underworld in mere days. New dimensions took millennia.
And he had felt nothing—no rival dimension vying for Earth's souls.
So—
"Who did you sell your soul to, Hawk?"
His golden eyes flickered as he gazed up at the fading vortex.
His son was dead. His plan failed.
He had lost both pawn and prize.
And yet, no fear touched his face. Only fury.
Because he still held a trump card.
Hawk's sister.
Anya.
He had learned enough to know her place in Hawk's heart. Hawk would do anything for her. And Anya's soul was his to command.
Mephisto's lips twisted in a cruel smile.
"I own you now, Hawk."
…
Back in the canyon, Hawk opened his eyes, locking onto the faint direction of the vanished vortex. The law of life and death churned within him, calculating Hell's coordinates.
Just then, Sharon came running in, flashlight in hand.
He raised a brow.
"What are you doing here?"
"The satellite showed you motionless for ten minutes. I thought something happened." She carefully avoided loose stones as she approached.
"You weren't afraid coming here might be suicide?" Hawk asked curiously.
Sharon met his gaze seriously.
"You're the Phoenix who can spar with Thor on Mars. If even you fell, I'd have to call command and rally the Avengers again."
Hawk laughed.
"I'm fine."
"Good." She smiled faintly, then glanced around. "Where's Johnny Blaze?"
Hawk's eyes dropped to the ground at her feet.
Sharon followed his gaze.
Her light revealed a blood-red stump, severed at the neck, still leaking.
She froze, breath catching. In a heartbeat she recoiled a step back.
Hawk smirked at her rabbit-like reaction.
"His head wasn't taken by me. He did it himself."
"Himself?" She blinked, then remembered the Rider's flaming skull transformation from surveillance footage. Slowly, she nodded.
Her light swept the area again.
"Then where's the head?"
"There." Hawk pointed at a scatter of pale shards. "See that? That's his skull."
She shined the beam, saw fragments crushed like under a press. Her mouth twitched, then she shrugged.
"Alright then."
"You sound disappointed," Hawk noted.
"Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"Don't take it wrong—I'm not sad you survived. I'm just disappointed Johnny Blaze didn't."
Hawk stayed silent, studying her.
She corrected herself quickly.
"I came here for the stunt show, remember? That's all I meant."
Hawk chuckled.
Sharon steadied herself, then said, "If it's over, let's head back together."
He shook his head.
"There's one place I still need to go."
"Where? I'll drive you."
"Hell."
"…What?"
…
(End of Chapter)
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