In the dark of night under a starless sky, a tall man terrified for his life leaped out the window of an apartment. He fell and landed on the dumpster with a cry and slumped off onto the concrete. His lungs screamed for breath as he tried to get it back.
What the hell was that thing? What the hell was that thing?
Once he got back up, clutching his torn shoulder, his head jerked up when he heard an animalistic roar coming from the window he had jumped out of. His eyes bulged and he bolted, keeping one hand on his shoulder.
He was being chased by something away from his home, so he had to retreat somewhere else. He ran onto the sidewalk and after a while he turned and barged into a restaurant. He pushed aside anyone that stood in his way and headed straight for the kitchen. Once inside, he grabbed one of the cooks who was holding a butcher knife.
Perfect.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" The chef cried.
"Shut up!" The man snapped back. He wrenched the knife from the chef's hand and held it at his neck as he continued to lead him away, abandoning all the other cooks that looked on in shock.
"Make one move and I chop this through his neck!" The man threatened. He kicked the back door open and made it into the back alley behind the building.
"Let's talk this out! I barely make enough to get by!" The cook pleaded.
"Shut up!" The man screamed again.
For a brief moment, everything was quiet. Then, there was the sound of a chain being dragged along concrete.
The man's grip on the knife tightened and he pressed it against the chef's neck, drawing blood. Every breath the man made came and left through his nose and sweat streamed down about every inch of his face.
The next sound that accompanied the clinking of the chain sounded like a raven screaming as its being strangled. The man's heart froze and the cook began to moan as the knife dug deeper into his skin.
Finally, someone came around the corner. He was dragging a chain across the sidewalk with him and he wore a yellow mask that covered everything except his eyes and he also wore a black jacket.
"Take one more step and I kill him! I'm serious!" The tall man screamed.
Then the last thing he expected happened. The chain his pursuer was carrying mysteriously caught on fire. The chef went limp in the man's grip as he fell unconscious. The last thing the man remembered before he died was the flaming chain extending towards him and wrapping itself around his neck as he screamed for help.
What he didn't know was that the chain had removed his head by completely disintegrating his neck, both flesh and bone.
To get back home on his motorcycle, Johnny had to pass by Susie's Diner. He stopped for a moment and was able to see Flagg talking to Jennifer through the window. Despite the recent circumstances, Blaze couldn't help but allow a half-smile to slip through his features. Sure Flagg had every reason to try and win over Jennifer, but unfortunately a life like that for himself was beyond his reach.
Been there, done that. Not trying again.
When he got back to his garage, Crash Simpson was leaning against his door waiting for him with his arms folded and a scowl under his silver mustache.
"Sometimes I like a heads-up ahead of time that you're coming," Blaze said as he slid off his motorcycle in the driveway.
"I couldn't. You know I have my own show to run," Crash said.
Blaze got to his front door, flipping a set of keys in his hand as he did so. "If this is about trying to get me back into the show again, you'll be disappointed to hear that I'm still saying 'no'."
"Blaze, that was years ago. Time is supposed to mend wounds, not widen them."
Blaze opened the door and stepped into his home, "nice to see you too."
Crash persisted by coming in with him. "You're not gonna be able to get rid of me that easily."
"Evidently not," Blaze replied. He opened his fridge and pulled out two bottles of Bud Light. He held one out to Crash, which Crash hastily neglected.
"So why are you here?" Blaze asked, taking his first swig.
Instead of answering, Crash looked around the kitchen, which was connected to the living room also. He walked over to a small table next to the couch, which had a picture frame of Blaze and a girl together. Blaze was displaying a bigger smile in it then he ever did in the last couple years.
"I remember when this picture was taken," Crash said.
"So you just came here to take us down memory lane," Blaze replied. He put the bottle down. This was getting ridiculous. What was Crash up to?
Crash picked up the picture and turned around so he was facing Blaze. Blaze raised an eyebrow when he noticed a tear swimming in his eye.
"Can't a foster father just come and visit his foster son once in a while?" Crash asked.
"You never come here though, that's what surprises me," Blaze said.
"I know. I know. Johnny, I—." Crash was cut off by a fit of violent coughing, his last cough being so loud and grotesque, his eyes rolled back.
"Crash? Dad?"
Why do you call him 'dad'? He's not your dad.
For a moment, Johnny was thirteen again, feeling his way through the dark hallway of Crash's home.
"Dad? Dad?"
When Crash came out of his room to see what he wanted, Blaze was shocked.
"You're not my dad!"
"I am now," Crash said with his knees bent to look Blaze in the eye. "Accept it."
"Where's my dad? Where's my dad? Daddy!"
Crash held him as he beat his fists against his chest in a sobbing fit.
Blaze was jerked back into the present as Crash fell limp to the floor.
"Crash? Crash." Blaze was immediately at his foster father's side. He shook Crash to get something out of him, but he was completely out. Through his open front door, several police officers stepped in. Blaze had been so lost in the moment that he didn't hear the wailing ambulance parking in front of his home.
"That man needs to come with us, son. He's losing his life," one of the officers said.**
Years Ago...
*"Johnny? Johnny."
Blaze was startled back to reality. Everywhere he looked he saw green. Someone touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Roxanne Simpson staring down at him with concern.
What a lovely sight to wake up to.
Roxanne's green eyes blinked and she used her hand to brush a tuft of pitch-black hair behind her ear. Her hair was chopped short directly above the ears. She wore skinny jeans and a black motorcycle jacket that her mother had given to her.
Her mother, right. That's a crappy story.
She chuckled, filling Blaze's ears with one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.
"You fell asleep."
"Sorry. I'm just tired."
"You're always tired."
"I feel like I'm trying to catch up on lost sleep time," Blaze admitted.
Before Roxanne could respond, Blaze grasped her arm and pulled her down beside him. She laughed.
"D'you bring it?" Blaze asked. Roxanne reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle of whiskey. She unscrewed the cap and took the first swig. Blaze took the bottle and had a sip himself.
"How are you feeling?" Roxanne asked.
"I can be better," Blaze replied.
Roxanne nodded in understanding. "I think both of us can."
Both of them had ridden on Blaze's motorcycle outside of the city where the Quentin Carnival was currently based after attending Roxanne's mother's funeral. A bad motorcycle accident involving Blaze resulted in the death of Roxanne's mother, and what was worse about it was that Zarathos, the demon inside him, had claimed responsibility.
What did that mean for Roxanne?
Right before she passed, Roxanne's mother had made Blaze promise her that he would never again take part in any of Crash's shows. Why she didn't want him to eluded him, but he promised anyway and didn't say a word to Crash ever since. Yet here he was flirting with his daughter, and somehow he forced himself to believe that that was okay.
Roxanne grunted when she pulled out her flip phone and saw that her father was calling her.
"You gonna answer that?" Blaze asked.
Roxanne pursed her lips and handed the phone over to Blaze.
"Why don't you make that call. He'll want to talk to both of us."
Blaze took the phone and stared at the caller ID. Roxanne was telling him to decide whether or not to answer it?
Roxanne was obviously watching Blaze's thumb very closely, because as he was about to answer, she took the phone away and stuffed it in her pocket.
"No. I'm not ready to face him yet."
"You have to be eventually. Both of us," Blaze said.
Roxanne sighed and stared up at the sky. Clouds were morphing together and prophesying rain. "Can we do something else right now? I'll be willing to talk to dad in the morning."
Blaze gently took Roxanne's face in his hands and stared straight into her green eyes. They were the eyes that kept him from turning into that thing that was a part of him now.
"We'll do it together, but yeah, let's just live in the moment."
Both of them locked lips and even the voice of Zarathos couldn't break the moment and the memory that Blaze was making right here and now.**
Present Day
Flagg was having the time of his life talking to Jennifer at Susie's Diner. There was no one else there except for the two of them and they had already gone through a whole bottle of red wine.
Jennifer was laughing so hard there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She was beginning to look like a mess, but Flagg was eating up every second of it, because there was no doubt that he looked like a mess himself.
"You wouldn't know it, but Blaze and me were like serious nerds in secret. We never wanted to 'come out of the closet' so to speak," Flagg said.
"So why couldn't you two share then?" Jennifer asked.
"That Captain America figure couldn't be shared, not without a fight breaking out."
"So to you it could only go one way or no way," Jennifer said.
"Yeah."
"So what happened?"
Flagg snickered. "I put it in the garbage disposal."
Jennifer's eyebrows shot up. "No…"
"Oh yeah, I guess you can say that two things got messed up that day."
"So a fight did end up breaking out anyway," Jennifer guessed.
"Actually no, he doesn't know that that's where it went. I dropped it in the yard of a neighbor who owns a big dog, then told Blaze that I found it there."
Jennifer laughed. "Did he get it back?"
"Yeah, but it was ruined beyond proud display. He threw it away and didn't get another one."
"You're so mean!"
"Well the funny thing is that he wasn't as devastated about it as I thought he might be. I don't know. He seemed completely disinterested the whole time."
"I still have a Peggy Carter figure in mint condition, still in its packaging," Jennifer said.
Now it was Flagg's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yep. Keeping a toy in its packaging helps prevent crap like that from happening."
Inside his pocket, Flagg's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw that it was Blaze.
"Ah, well speak of the devil," Flagg said as he pressed the button to answer. "What up, Johnny?"
From Jennifer's view, she saw Flagg's smile suddenly fall after a few seconds and his eyes widen as far as they could go. Something was very wrong.**
"He came to the house to say goodbye."
Blaze did the best he could to follow the doctors who were pushing Crash through the halls of the hospital. His surroundings were all a blur and he could see sparks drifting around.
Not here, please, not here.
"You had your chance."
He's not going to die.
"You're too weak when you care so much about these people."
Screw you.
"Your insults don't sway me."
This kind of crap is the reason why I allowed to be bonded to you in the first place.
"But you are saving lives."
Not the way I was promised.
Blaze was out of it when the doctors got Crash in an emergency room and wasn't paying attention when they were scurrying around running scans and examining him. The sounds of the doctors talking and monitors beeping were faded. The voice of the demon on the other hand was crystal clear and filled his ears.
"There's nothing you can do about this."
Shut up, yes there is.
"You're far too compassionate. I expect much more from you."
Blaze suddenly stood up, his face contorting into rage. The doctors were too busy to notice him. Good.
"Johnny," someone called out. Blaze turned to see Flagg running up to him. There were tear stains on his cheeks.
"What's happening?" He asked.
"I don't know," Blaze replied. He didn't look at Flagg. His jaw was down and he couldn't think properly.
"You had your chance."
One of the doctors approached them. "I need you two to wait out in the waiting room."
"Please, can I please stay with him? He's my dad," Flagg said.
"I understand, but we need room and we need to focus. We'll update you as soon as we've learned something."
Blaze didn't know how he got from the emergency room all the way to the lobby. Maybe Flagg led him along. He was sitting in one of the chairs with his hands balled into fists on top of the arms.
"John? Hey man, you're scaring me a little," Flagg said.
Trampling over the sound of Flagg's voice was the sound of a gunshot in Blaze's head. His ears rang and all he could see was blood and death.
Flagg grabbed Blaze's hand and he was startled out of his memories. "John, it's okay. I'm right here."
Through the wall of sweat on his face, Blaze responded: "What was I doing?"
"You were screaming for your dad."
Blaze looked around and saw that several people had turned to stare at him with puzzled expressions. The receptionist at the desk looked particularly disturbed.
"He's alright. Our dad is in there," Flagg said.
The receptionist reluctantly went back to her paperwork.
"You need to keep it together in here, man. I don't need another family member in the hospital, okay?" Flagg asked with tears in his eyes.
Blaze nodded. Zarathos had finally shut up for now and for a few blissful minutes, he was finally feeling a sense of peace despite the circumstances. He reached into his breast pocket to feel the pocket Bible there. Touching it brought an even greater sense of peace.**
Years Ago...
"How much of this have you read in the past few weeks?" Roxanne asked Blaze when they were inside his garage.
Blaze didn't have to look up from his motorcycle to know what she was talking about.
"Not much at all. I stopped after 'in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth'."
Roxanne chuckled. "Why right after that? You were only just getting started."
Blaze finally looked up with an amused but weary smile. "Because I felt like that's all I needed to know."
Blaze felt the book Roxanne was holding touch his hand which was resting on the motorcycle's seat. There was the title inscribed on the front: Holy Bible.
"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to my mother. We were both on that motorcycle," Roxanne said.
Blaze didn't say anything, which was out of character for him whenever he was around Roxanne. He had lost a lot of his ability to talk after the death of Roxanne's mother. How many more deaths did he have to suffer through before he could finally find peace?
"I want you to have this," Roxanne finally said when she knew Blaze wouldn't respond.
Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
"Take it. One day you'll realize you need it."
Blaze and Roxanne both stood in his garage as two broken people, battered and torn apart by the tragedies of their past. They had both lost someone near and dear to them and rather than those events drawing them closer together, it seemed to be pulling them away from each other.
Blaze finally took hold of the Bible and tucked it in his breast pocket. He could feel the weight of it there, pressing down but not burdening him.
"God will give you peace if you ask for it," Roxanne said.
Blaze's hand strayed towards Roxanne's until both were interlocked in an embrace. "It's much more complicated than that."**
Present Day
When Blaze woke up, he was still in the waiting room and Flagg was sitting next to him watching the TV across the room. It was tuned to the news, which was reporting sightings of 'extraordinary displays' by what they called meta humans. As Blaze rubbed his eyes, he felt streaks of pain course through his head.
"Hey, welcome to the land of the living," Flagg said.
"How long was I out?" Blaze asked.
"About twenty minutes."
"Damn, it felt longer than that," Blaze groaned.
"You were out cold. You almost looked dead, actually," Flagg admitted.
Why are we here again?
Finally, a door opened and a male doctor stepped out. Once he spotted Blaze and Flagg, he headed straight towards them. Flagg leaped to his feet but Blaze's body refused to work.
"What's wrong with him?" Flagg asked.
The doctor sighed and eyed Blaze, then turned back to Flagg. "There's no easier way to say this, but—your father has terminal cancer."
Flagg's expression changed. He tried to speak but no words came. Blaze could feel his heart fall down his chest and through his stomach.
"How—how did you learn this so fast?" Flagg asked.
"He has actually been our patient for some time now. We already the results ready for him to see, but when he arrived, he fled when were about to sit him down. That's when he went to his house," the doctor explained, nodding at Blaze.
Flagg looked down at Blaze for confirmation. Blaze nodded without looking up at him.
Flagg brushed his hand over his mouth in thought. "So what now?"
The doctor's shoulders drooped. "There's nothing we can do about his cancer. One of you can take him to stay with you—and take care of him."
Zarathos' voice started out as a whisper and slowly grew louder and louder.
"I'll take him," Flagg said.
Blaze stood up and started heading towards the exit.
"Johnny?" Flagg called out.
Blaze ignored him, determined to get away from there, away from everything.
"Johnny?" Flagg persisted.
Blaze walked out the sliding doors. As he did so, part of his face split open like a wide gash, revealing scorching bone.**
*"Why can't I use your power to heal Crash?" Blaze screamed. He was in his garage holding a hammer with his hands on fire and appearing like hands of a skeleton.
Zarathos didn't answer. Blaze imagined himself tearing a hole in his chest and wrenching the demon out to strangle him to death before he could die first.
"I was promised the power to keep people from dying. Why hasn't he kept his end of the deal?" Blaze demanded. He swung his hammer down and let it slam against his workbench. Chipped wood and dust flew in the air.
"Tell me! Tell me!" Blaze threw the hammer across the room and watched it smash against the garage door and fall to the floor. He saw an impression of a dent in the door but he didn't care.
After a few more seconds of silence, the demon finally spoke.
"You weren't promised the ability to protect people. You were promised the ability to deal out justice to the guilty."
"When my dad was in danger of dying, he said that I could save people. If my ability is to punish those who sin, why can't I save people too?"
"I am not capable of saving people. I am merely a vessel of one of his deals," Zarathos replied.
"You're a spirit with great power, and not one of your abilities is to give a person new life?" Blaze asked.
"I know only how to take lives, not save them. You should be grateful of your abilities Johnny Blaze. With them, you are a hero."
Blaze shook his head and leaned against his workbench. He sank to the floor and lay his arms over his knees.
"Delivering justice to the guilty and saving people are two different things. I'm not a hero. I'm a slave. A slave to your will," he said. He held up his hand, watching fire dance across his bony palm.
"This isn't what I wanted. He knew that, but he gave it to me anyway."
"You are a gullible fool. You haven't even scratched the surface of your power even after all these years of possessing it."
"I know how I can learn more, but I can't do it. Not after what it did to me," Blaze said.
"The book helped you obtain the powers. Now it can only be a benefit to you," Zarathos replied.
"What's in that book is nothing but evil, like you. I'm not a hero, and you're the exact opposite of one."
"I am a hero, you're just too ignorant to realize it. You humans are all the same. Seeing everything as either only one way or the other."
"I know evil when I see it, and feel it. It's all that's in you."
"Who are you talking to? You or me? I'm inside you, remember?"
The words broke Blaze into a fit of tears.**
Years Ago...
The cheers of the crowd echoed behind Blaze as he walked out of the arena and into his changing room where Roxanne was waiting for him with a big grin on her face.
"You were awesome, honey," she said, throwing her arms around his neck.
"It was just another day in the carnival, babe. I'm ready to get out of here."
"Your place?" Roxanne asked.
"Sure thing, but first—." Blaze led Roxanne by the bench next to his locker and sat her down. He then slowly got down on one knee and removed a little box from his breast pocket. Roxanne's eyes widened as she figured out what was coming.
"Roxanne Simpson, will you—."
Suddenly, the flaps flew open behind Blaze and in stepped Crash.
"Johnny, Ralph is asking—," he stopped short at the sight of Blaze at Roxanne's feet with the little box. His expression contorted into rage.
"I told you you can't do that! You can't marry my daughter!" He yelled.
Blaze stood up. "You never explained why! Don't you want her to be happy?"
"Yes but she can't be happy with you. Her life would be in danger if she marries you!"
"You have to let me try. Give me at least a year and—."
"Jonathan Blaze, you are forbidden to marry Roxanne as long as you breathe, you get that!?" Crash screamed.
"Dad, I trust him. I'm old enough now to marry who I want," Roxanne demanded.
"You haven't seen what I've seen. You have no idea—."
Crash was cut off at the sound of screaming. Not the excited, joyous kind. Something was terribly wrong.
All three of them ran outside of the tent and saw what appeared to be army trucks lined up with armored men piling out armed with guns. Some of the guns even had a blue, sickish glow.
And the men were using them against the innocent people running for their lives.
"Get Roxanne away from here!" Blaze urged Crash.
"Johnny, what are you doing?" Roxanne asked.
Blaze looked at Roxanne. The feeling in Roxanne's eyes was completely clear. She was scared.
"I love you," he said. Then he turned to Crash.
"Go!" He yelled.
Crash grabbed Roxanne's arm, much to her dismay, and pulled her along to get her to safety. Blaze faced the trucks again, and watched a man bigger than most of the others step out the back of one of the trucks. He had on a black mask with a sad yellow face crudely drawn on it and in his hands he held a crossbow.
"I'm here for Quentin!" He hollered.
None of the civilians stopped running. The big man shot one of the people running.
"We won't stop until Quentin shows himself!"
Blaze watched as Ralph Quentin himself pushed through the mass of people trying to get away. More gunshots were going off and the cries of dying people pierced Blaze's ears.
"Guilty ones, all around us."
"Not yet," Blaze replied aloud.
"I'm right here!" Quentin called out. "What do you want with me?"
The big man turned to face the carnival owner and used his hand to signal two of his men to grab him. Quentin was taken and dragged before the man on his knees.
The man took off his mask, revealing a bald head with a scar that ran up his neck and over his chin, then stopped at his bottom lip.
"Do you remember me?" He asked.
"Vince?"
"Bingo. At least you remember me. Except when I was part of your carnival, I was known as the Freakmaster. Well now I'm going to make you a freak for what you did," Vince declared.
"Vince, please, I didn't know—." Ralph was interrupted when Vince struck him across the face with the back of his hand.
"Get him in the car. He's coming with me," Vince ordered his companions.
"What about the others?" One of them asked.
Vince turned to look at Blaze and the other people who stood by watching everything unfold. He waved a dismissive hand. "Kill them all."
Immediately again the air exploded with sounds of gunfire and screaming. A body fell at Blaze's feet, soaking his boots in blood. When he looked down, he gasped at what he saw.
Roxanne.
Seconds turned into minutes as Blaze scooped up Roxanne's body and carried her away from the carnage happening all around him. Bullets struck him in the back but he stayed on his feet while the demon within preserved his life. He ran by Crash, who followed close behind.
"She ran after you, I couldn't stop her," he cried.
Blaze didn't reply. He continued carrying Roxanne until he got her to an empty room in the carnival. He put Roxanne down. A bloodstain on her shirt was continuously growing without stopping.
"Roxanne. No, no, don't do this to me," Blaze choked.
Crash knelt beside him with a hand over his mouth. "Baby?"
Blaze touched Roxanne's cheek, which had turned bitterly cold. Though she was pale to begin with, Roxanne's skin was turning as white as clean sheets. Her eyes fluttered open and peered up at Blaze.
Despite the circumstances, a smile found Roxanne's expression, and she clasped Johnny's hand with her own bloody one.
"Who's this handsome stud?" She asked.
The words only made the pain in Blaze's stomach grow stronger like a chainsaw shredding skin. Those were her first words to him when she agreed to be his girlfriend.
Blaze laughed through the tears. "Nothing ever kills you, huh?"
"It's just that I know where I'm going."
"No, no. You're not going anywhere. You're going to live," Blaze said. He wanted to punch himself for saying those words. They meant nothing. He knew he couldn't do anything. He was completely helpless, just like when his father died.
Roxanne shifted her gaze towards Crash, her own dad. "Dad, I'm sorry."
Crash's eyes squeezed shut as they bled more tears. "Why did you do it? You didn't have to do it."
"Because it's not Johnny's time yet," Roxanne said. She looked like she wanted to say more, but her breath hinged and she struggled to make a sound. Finally, she let loose one more breath and her eyes stopped blinking.
"Son of a bitch," a voice said behind Blaze. Blaze turned around to see Flagg standing at the doorway with his jaw dropped.
Roxanne was dead, and the three people that were still alive that cared for her the most had to witness her go. Blaze knew he couldn't stay and comfort Flagg. Justice had to be dealt and Quentin had to be saved from Vince, however it needed to be done.**
*There was an abandoned facility that once belonged to Stark Industries back when Howard Stark headed the company as the billionaire and ladies' man. In one of the vast hallways that led to the building's central room where most of the experiments had been conducted, a group of goons hired by Vince stood watch. To hide their presence in the building from people outside, only the emergency lights were on, emanating a faint scarlet glow that reflected off the armor of Vince's men. At the other end of the hallway was another door that had been sealed shut with one of Stark's high-end security systems. There wasn't a single sound in the hallway, but in the room the men were guarding came the sound of Quentin screaming as Vince the Freakmaster tortured him and spilled out a string of insults to add to injury.
The confidence the guards had outside of the room was high. There was no way anyone was getting through, and even if there was the slight chance of the police coming to investigate, the goons were well-trained by Vince himself to handle it.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
The guards jumped at the sudden sound and tensed. They crouched and aimed their weapons at the door on the other end. Sweat coursed down most of their faces and their trigger fingers were trembling. What belonged to such an inhuman, animalistic scream?
Then came the stomping, loud and clear, as if someone was stomping in the hallway they were in and not on the other side of the sealed door. The stomping finally stopped and the guards heard another cry, shorter and quieter this time but equally terrifying. Something slammed against the door so hard it dented. The front poked out in a mess of twisted metal.
Something hit the door again and one of the hinges popped off.
"Steady…" one of the guards said. It didn't reassure the others at all. Terror filled the room like a wild virus devouring every brain in its way.
After a longer pause, the door was hit one more time and fell straight down onto the ground.
"Open fire!" The same guard screamed.
Simultaneously, the guards fired strings of bullets at the doorway, though they couldn't see what had brought the door down. Their bullets appeared to be striking something in the blackness, but nothing moved in response to them. The guard raised his hand for the others to cease fire. They stopped, and waited.
They didn't have to wait long. A small fire sparked, lighting up the dark and exposing the intruder's face. Except it wasn't really a face to begin with. It was a skull with its jaw dropped so far down that it looked like it was in danger of popping. The fire that the guards had seen was dancing on top of the skull's head. In the intruder's bony hand he held a chain that was on fire.
"What the hell?" The guard hollered.
All the guards then started firing wildly, not even caring to try and hit the target just right. Any bullets that did make their mark on the intruder had no effect on it. The intruder began walking towards them and its chain formed into something that resembled a staff, which it was able to use to deflect bullets back at them. Bullets ricocheted off the chain-staff and shredded some of the guards' throats, leaving them in puddles of blood. Next, the chain formed into a resemblance of a chainsaw, with the metal links actually functioning as a saw. The intruder swung its weapon, severing a guard's head from his neck. It then proceeded to plunge the saw into the chest of another. His chest spit blood and organ matter, splattering across the intruder's skull. The guard that had been commanding the group ran up to the door where Vince and Quentin were and banged on it.
"Help us!" He screamed.
No one came to answer, no matter how loud the guard screamed or how hard he banged. The guards were trapped in this hallway with a demon from hell.
Ghost Rider whipped his chain forward and it stabbed through the chest of a guard and came out his back, then stabbed through another guard so that he could lift them up and repeatedly smash them between the walls. The other guards were caught in the path of the bodies being tossed around and they fell over, their faces bashed in.
The bodies linked with the chain dissolved into ashes, allowing Ghost Rider to continue down the hallway. The last guard was still banging on the door, crying out for help, though it would never come. The Rider grabbed the goon by the throat and lifted him up off his feet. Once his head was level with the Rider's, Ghost Rider bashed his head against the goon's, smashing it in a single hit. Now it was time to deal with Vince.
Taking down the door to the lab was easier than the previous door, and sure enough, there was Vince standing by the unconscious body of Quentin, who was spread out on a table to have an experiment conducted on him.
Vince was terrified at the sight of Ghost Rider. His hands shook as he reached for his crossbow.
"What are you?" He demanded.
Ghost Rider didn't answer. He cracked his knuckles and moved in to take on Vince. Vince fired an arrow, which flew and lodged itself in the Rider's chest. The Rider took the arrow out of him, bit the tip off, and spat it at Vince. It found its mark in Vince's neck, spewing blood down his shirt.
"You're guilty," Ghost Rider said.
"S-so is he! Why are you saving him? He murdered my parents in cold blood! They were his slaves until he wanted nothing to do with them anymore."
The Rider stopped for a moment and stared at Quentin.
What is he talking about, Zarathos?
It was the first conscious thought from Blaze since he arrived at the facility.
"He is innocent. Vince is lying."
The Rider looked back at Vince.
"You're guilty," he said again.
As Ghost Rider continued walking towards him, Vince whipped out his pistol and frantically fired shot after shot at him, but to no avail. The Rider kicked him down so that he was off his feet and on his back. Then the Rider raised his foot and stomped down on the arrow's tip in Vince's neck. Vince screamed in pain and blood pooled underneath his head. But the Rider wasn't done. He stomped on it again, and continued stomping until Vince couldn't scream anymore. His lifeless corpse lay broken underneath Ghost Rider's foot. When Ghost Rider set Vince's body ablaze, Zarathos, not Johnny Blaze, threw the engagement ring into the fire too.
