Johnny sped forward, chasing what he believed was happiness.
Then he realized something was wrong.
His speed was already high.
If it weren't, he wouldn't have been able to catch up to Roxanne, who had likely already merged onto the highway after leaving the stadium.
Yet the sirens behind him were closing in.
Fast.
That fact alone was shocking.
A stunt bike was supposed to be fast.
The one Johnny was riding even more so.
And yet-
He was being caught.
Easily.
Johnny twisted the throttle harder.
The engine roared.
But the sirens didn't fall back.
If anything, they were getting closer.
It was as if his acceleration meant nothing.
Soon, the two bikes were side by side.
Morin glanced at Johnny.
Johnny glanced back.
"What are you looking at?" Morin asked.
"What's it to you?" Johnny shot back.
"Say that again?"
"I'll say-sorry!"
Morin had already drawn his service weapon.
Johnny immediately slowed.
He was immortal.
But he'd never really tested how immortal.
And even if he couldn't die, pain was still pain.
"You're suspected of hit-and-run, performing without a license, and speeding," Morin said calmly once they stopped.
"You'll be detained and fined."
"Officer..." Johnny sounded anxious.
"I'm willing to accept the punishment, but can you let me catch up to someone first? I need to explain something."
"Of course."
"Thank you, officer!"
"Of course not."
"...Why?" Johnny frowned.
"I'd really like to let you go," Morin said, sticking the ticket onto Johnny's bike.
"But you seem to have forgotten who you are."
"My identity?" Johnny laughed helplessly.
"Even if I'm the world's number one stunt performer, that doesn't mean I can't chase a journalist."
"I know," Morin interrupted.
"That's not the identity I mean."
"...Then what is it?"
Johnny still didn't get it.
Or maybe his mind was completely filled with Roxanne.
When people fell in love, their IQ dropped.
Most of their brainpower went into daydreaming.
There wasn't much left for thinking.
"In your current state, it's not appropriate for me to explain," Morin said, shaking his head.
He stepped aside.
"Go on. Do what you need to do."
"...Thank you."
Johnny hesitated, then got back on his bike.
"But Johnny," Morin added lightly,
"remember your essence. The thing carved into your bones."
"Remember what happened long ago."
"That wasn't a hallucination."
"You owe someone."
"No matter how you owe it-you owe it."
"And one day, he'll come to collect."
"There's my number on the ticket. And an address."
"If you figure it out, come find me."
"Who are you?" Johnny snapped, finally sensing something was wrong.
"Me?" Morin smiled.
"Just a cop."
"We'll meet again soon."
"I hope the time and place are right."
"What do you say?"
With that, Morin mounted his bike and rode off in the opposite direction.
Johnny wanted to stop him.
But he also wanted to catch Roxanne.
He hesitated for a long time.
Then he chose.
The engine roared.
...
Morin arrived at his destination.
The address he'd written on Johnny's ticket.
A graveyard.
A small church.
It was daytime.
The sun was bright.
Morin passed rows of tombstones and approached the caretaker.
A thin old man.
Cowboy hat.
Gray hair brushing his chin.
He leaned on a shovel, staring at a headstone.
"Carter Slade," Morin said.
"He was a good man," the old man replied slowly.
"And a bad one."
"Who knows?"
He turned his head.
"Young man, what are you doing here?"
"I was talking about you," Morin said.
"...What?" Carter's grip tightened on the shovel.
The Contract of San Venganza.
A thousand elite vengeful souls.
Mephisto had obtained it by deceiving an entire village and driving them to kill one another.
But he'd had the previous Ghost Rider retrieve it.
Carter Slade.
Carter knew the contract was too dangerous.
So he refused to hand it over.
He broke the agreement.
The Spirit of Vengeance was taken from him.
Yet somehow, he survived.
Retained a trace of its power.
Lived for over a century.
To hide the contract, Carter concealed it in plain sight.
Inside the shovel in his hands.
Then he buried his name.
Became a caretaker.
Built a small church.
Repented day and night.
He was waiting.
Waiting for Mephisto to choose a new Rider.
That would be the day he handed over the contract.
The day he would finally be free.
"Relax," Morin smiled.
"I'm not a bad guy."
He activated his triple Justice Set.
No explanation was needed.
The moment it activated, Carter felt it.
Bright.
Righteous.
Peaceful.
White.
Warm.
Like a pigeon-
Wait.
Why a pigeon?
There was something... strange about it.
Not unpleasant.
Just odd.
Carter frowned.
He believed Morin wasn't a demon.
But what was he?
"...Are you an angel?" Carter asked.
"No," Morin said.
"I'm not."
He glanced around.
"Shall we talk inside?"
"...Sure."
Carter leaned on his cane and led him into the church.
"I'm a police officer," Morin said, looking up at the mural of Saint Michael.
"A police officer?" Carter frowned.
He clearly didn't believe it.
"A cop," Morin continued casually.
"A defender of the law. The incarnation of justice."
"So feeling righteous energy from me makes sense, right?"
Carter: "..."
I don't understand.
But I feel like you're fooling me.
"So," Carter said, cutting straight to it,
"what do you want?"
"I've already found the next Ghost Rider," Morin replied.
"And guided him here."
"He should arrive soon."
"I plan to give Mephisto a hard blow."
"...How much do you actually know?" Carter felt his head spinning.
"You know what you know," Morin said calmly.
"And I know that-and what you don't."
Carter suddenly asked, "How old is Mephisto this year?"
Morin: "..."
Are you doing this on purpose?
"Haha!" Carter laughed loudly.
"Don't brag in front of me, kid!"
Then he stopped laughing.
His face turned serious.
"I don't know what you're planning," he said.
"But believe me-Mephisto is far more dangerous than you think."
"He's not the strongest."
"But he's the most cunning."
"If you want to trick him, power isn't enough."
"You need preparation."
"Perfect preparation."
"Not even the smallest detail can be overlooked."
"I tricked him twice recently," Morin said with a smile.
"Due to contract details, I can't explain."
"But I appreciate your concern."
"Twice?" Carter was stunned.
"You're sure it was Mephisto?"
Once was unimaginable.
Twice?
"That's right," Morin said.
"With the help of the Sorcerer Supreme."
"But that's in the past."
"I'm not bragging."
"I'm proving I can do it."
"Future matters still need careful planning."
...
Meanwhile.
Johnny had caught up to Roxanne.
He stopped her.
"What do you want?" she asked coldly.
Her dream had shattered decades ago.
Back then, she'd run away from home.
Planned to leave with him.
That kind of decision meant deep love.
And when love turned-
So did hatred.
"I want to say..." Johnny met her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"...And?" Roxanne sneered.
"You think that makes up for what you did?"
"I know it doesn't," Johnny said softly.
"But I still have to say it."
He couldn't tell her the truth.
He didn't want to drag her into danger.
"...Fine," Roxanne sighed.
"I accept your apology."
"Anything else?"
"If not, I'm leaving."
"Of course," Johnny brightened.
"I wanted to invite you-"
Then he remembered Morin's words.
"...Invite me to what?" Roxanne asked after a long silence.
"...To watch my next performance," Johnny said.
Some things-
Needed to be resolved first.
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