Years Ago…

Blaze was covered in dirt and soot as he worked on Hell Cycle in his garage. It was his safe haven. One of the only places where he could be alone. The gas cap on the motorcycle emanated an eerie glow.

Zarathos wasn't saying anything that day, which made the experience even better. There was always that reminder that Blaze's life wasn't normal thanks to the glowing cap, but it was still better than a demonic voice in his head. Instead, he got to fill the garage with the sound of Eminem and he had half a bottle of Bud Light sitting on his workbench.

The moment was cracked when someone knocked on the door. Blaze stood up and hesitated. If it was Crash, he didn't feel like talking to him at the moment. Who else could it be?

Blaze felt a heat wave swallow him up when he opened the door to find Flagg standing there. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and he looked like it hurt him to make eye contact with him.

"Hey," he said.

Blaze waited a few seconds before responding. "Hey."

"Can I come in?" Flagg asked.

Blaze looked back at Hell Cycle with its glowing gas cap. "Just a second."

He let Flagg in after tossing a sheet over Hell Cycle, which was thick enough to cover up the light from the cap.

"You want a drink?" Blaze asked.

"Please," Flagg replied.

Blaze went to the mini fridge and handed his old friend a beer. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have this pack all to myself."

Flagg used the bottle opener given to him to pop the bottle open. "I'm sure you've been blowing through these fast."

"You can say that," Blaze said. He sat down on top of his workbench with a rag draped over his leg. "So what are you doing here? I thought you didn't want to see us again."

Flagg stayed standing while taking a swig from his bottle. "Being alone allowed me time to think. I'm done isolating myself. I want to come back."

Blaze tilted his head. "To stay?"

Flagg nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I mean—it wasn't your fault what happened."

Blaze didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. On one hand, he was relieved to know that Flagg was willing to give their friendship a second chance, but on the other hand Flagg's leave a while ago still stung. He got up one morning and Flagg was just gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. He just ran away from his problems instead of deciding to face them head-on.

"Your dad might not be too happy to see you," Blaze said.

"I know. Wouldn't be the first time I've upset him. He's used to it at this point."

Blaze silently nodded.

"It's crazy what happened to Quentin's captor. The way he was murdered was—ghastly," Flagg said.

Blaze didn't answer. He was afraid of saying something that would expose his other identity, and Flagg was in no position to know about it. Not yet.

"And I think that that man deserved it. Every ounce of pain," Flagg said.

Blaze stood up and threw his arms around his friend. "Welcome back, Flagg."

Flagg returned the embrace, trying to keep a hold on his bottle. "I'm not going anywhere this time. This time, I'm here to stay."**

Present Day

*Flagg was always one who believed in justicein whatever form that may take.

While it didn't make the situation any less terrifying, it didn't surprise Blaze that Zarathos was attracted to Flagg. He had always carried a deep seeded hatred towards the ones that had snatched Jennifer away on that fateful night. That night bent him. Jennifer's death broke him.

On a motorcycle he took from a bar parking lot, Blaze knew exactly where Flagg and Zarathos were. A man named Martin Thraller was the one behind Jennifer's abduction, and he was in the hospital now for losing his eyes in a fight with a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

The thing that was scarier about Zarathos than anything else was that he knew the heart of the person he was inside of, more than the person itself might.

Flagg possibly even made a deal with Zarathos to ensure that Martin would get his. But then that meant Flagg had to do something for Zarathos in return. What was that?

The thought made Blaze want to turn into Ghost Rider and go faster to get to the hospital, but he didn't have that power anymore. At least not for a while. He had to get there and take it from Flagg, and he knew exactly how.

While racing down the street, trying to cut corners to reach the hospital, several other motorcycles driven by members of the Hand came up on both sides of him. One removed his sword from his sheath to get at him. He swerved closer and swung with one hand, just barely missing Blaze's side. Blaze slightly veered to the left and tried to stay steady. He didn't need to be Ghost Rider to know how to expertly ride a motorcycle. This was something that he had been doing for so long now. It was what he was best at. When he was normal.

This is me being normal.

Blaze allowed the chain to materialize in his hand again and he lashed out at the ninja on his right. The end of the chain wrapped itself around the ninja's neck and Blaze wrenched him off his bike. The bike fell over onto its side and another ninja riding a motorcycle collided into it, tossing the rider into the air like a rag doll.**

*Stephen Lords watched Blaze from a roof as Blaze and members of the Hand sped past the building. He gestured to several ninjas standing by him.

"Take him out," he ordered.

They ran to catch up, armed with crossbows.**

*Blaze could hear the arrows whistling their way towards him and veered left and right to avoid them as they missed him and struck the pavement.

Crap. I can deal with ninjas on the ground with me but I can't fight back against the ones on the roofs.

Blaze was startled to hear several gunshots rattle his eardrums. He risked a look back over his shoulder and saw a squad car speeding down the road behind him.

Frank.

Detective Frank McGee was picking off ninjas one by one on the roofs with his glock. He shot one riding on a motorcycle in the head and shot one running atop a dumpster in the leg. Another ninja on his bike slowed down to line up next to Frank's car with a throwing knife in hand. Before he could toss it at Frank however, an intense bright light exploded out of the car and completely evaporated the ninja into nothing.

What was that?

Then it hit him.

When I first discovered this power, among others inside my head, the lights in my eyes were the brightest they could possibly be. They were so powerful and so sharp, that they drilled through my wife's own eyes and burned a hole through her brain.

That light really did burn.

With a boost of newfound confidence, Blaze twirled the chain in his hand over his head before lashing it out at another nearby ninja and yanking him off his bike. He pulled the cloaked man towards him and struck him across the face. The man fell to the ground and rolled out of view.

A member of the Hand rode up alongside Blaze on his right armed with a katana. A bullet from Frank rang through the air and imbedded itself into the ninja's lower back. The man yelped in pain and tried one last desperate attempt to swing his blade at Blaze's neck. Blaze inched his bike on over to the side to avoid the swing and the ninja fell off his ride in pain. His skull cracked upon hitting the pavement. Blaze picked up speed as Frank turned his car so that it was parked sideways across the one-way street. Blaze halted his bike and saw two ninjas riding on their motorcycles slam into the side of the squad car. Their bodies flew off their seats and smashed into the doors.

"Go, I've got this!" Frank yelled out at Blaze.

Blaze was about to go back and help Frank instead of listening to him, but he saw how well Frank was handling himself. Any ninja that came several feet of him got gunned down or incinerated by the powerful light contained in his eyes.

He had to get to Flagg before he kills Martin. As much as he hated it, he needed to get his demon back.**

*Stephen watched Blaze disappear around a corner. He was about to start running in the direction Blaze went but stopped when he saw a helicopter flying past him. Normally these kinds of things wouldn't phase Stephen, but he realized something wasn't right. He could feel something like a spiritual presence aboard the helicopter.

Then it struck him.

Whoever was on that helicopter had the Medallion.

With a roar, Stephen unsheathed his sword and ran to catch up with the helicopter.**

*Martin fell to the floor after Ghost Rider threw him down. He started crawling towards the door. He needed to call for help. He needed to—

"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Thraller? Or is that even your real name?" The Rider asked.

Martin's entire body froze when he felt bony fingers grip his neck and hoist him up off his feet. "Maynard Tiboldt. You are guilty for the enslavement and death of the innocent," the Rider said.

"Please—please leave me alone. I don't do any of that anymore," Martin begged.

A crack formed down the middle of the Rider's skull and pulled the face of the skull open, revealing Flagg.

"Remember me? The one that used to make deals with you?" He asked.

Martin gasped at hearing Flagg's voice. "How—what—how did this happen to you?" Martin asked.

"I made a deal. And it's a hell of a lot better than whatever ones I made with you," Flagg declared.

Martin was dropped again. The pain spiking up his lower back was so sharp he yelped.

"I'm slightly disappointed—slightly—that you don't have eyes at this moment. I would've loved for you to see the pictures."

Martin heard something like paper being shuffled.

"That woman you made pregnant. She's dead now. She worked for you to kidnap Jennifer," Ghost Rider said.

The Rider had several polaroid photos, each one of them displaying Hag's body sprawled out on her hospital bed, which had been riddled with bullets.

"Don't worry. The baby was born first before I killed her. And I don't consider that mercy. It will be without its mother and, very soon, its father."

Ghost Rider dropped the pictures and laid his hand on Martin's head. "You may not be able to see with your own eyes, but you can still see things in your mind."

Martin screamed in horror as certain, ghastly images flooded his mind. Hag's body was lying on the bed in an unnatural way. Blood was everywhere and there were several bullet wounds in her head.

"What did you do?" Martin asked.

"Only what you deserve. Now it's time to finish this," Ghost Rider said.

"Hey there, friend," someone said behind him. Ghost Rider whirled around to face Blaze standing in the doorway.

"Don't even," Blaze said.

The Rider roared and summoned his chain to him. He lashed it out at Blaze. Blaze's hand shot up and caught the end of the chain. He grinned.

"Huh."

Blaze took hold of the chain with both hands and wrenched it back, tossing Ghost Rider towards him. Blaze struck the Rider across the head and the spirit of vengeance went down on the ground.

"I hate you!" The Rider screamed.

"I know, but you're stuck with me. You're not going anyone else," Blaze replied. He crouched down to the floor and, before Ghost Rider could react, he grabbed the Rider by the neck and used the power still in him to start transferring Zarathos' soul back into him.

Before he could finish the transfer however, Ghost Rider managed to reach up and strike Blaze across the face, tossing him like a crash dummy across the room. Blaze's body struck the shelf built into the wall and flew into a cart carrying medical supplies. There was enough of the spirit's power in him to repress most of the pain and keep his body intact. He spat blood and scrambled back onto his feet. Seizing the cart, he lifted it up with one hand and chucked it at Ghost Rider. The Rider was able to use his chain to slice the cart in two, both halves collapsing onto the floor.

"You're not in control of me. I'm in control of you," Blaze said.

"Not as long as he's mine," the Rider said.

"I know. I was just saying those things to make me feel better."

"I have always wondered what Mephisto saw in you that made him grant you vengeance."

"Whatever he saw, they were the wrong things," Blaze said.

Blaze then tensed himself up and summoned all the power he had in him to become the Ghost Rider. Instead of his head transforming into a flaming skull however, a small fire flickered up over his head. Blaze's shoulders sank.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," he said.

From his balled fist, a lengthy chain protruded out and blue flames embraced it. Blaze's eyes lit up, revealing a fire reflecting off his irises. He shot his chain out to wrap it around the Rider's waist. For a moment, nothing happened, and the Rider looked down at his waist and let loose a chilling laugh.

"You fool. A demon can't defeat another demon like this," he said.

Evil can't defeat evil.

The chain disintegrated and dissolved into ash. Blaze felt his hand drop as the weight of the chain fled from it.

It would be nice if I had that sword from heaven right about now.

Blaze didn't have the sword, and Stephen Lords was nowhere to be seen. How could he defeat Zarathos, or at least chase him out of Flagg?

You can't just try to talk to Flagg in there. You have to talk to Zarathos. Flagg doesn't have the experience. He can't just will the thing away. Not when he wants vengeance just as much as Zarathos.

You can't just reason with Zarathos—or any demon for that matter. Not unless you want to make a new deal.

No. Not again. I can't go through that again.

Blaze shut his eyes, and began reciting the Lord's Prayer. It was the only way he could think of. It was the only real power he had that could defeat the Ghost Rider.

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—." Ghost Rider roared and pressed his bony hands against where his ears should be.

"Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven."

The Rider sank to his knees and continued screaming, trying to drown out Blaze's voice as Blaze got closer and closer to him.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us—."

Blaze stopped when he realized that someone was citing the Scripture right along with him. He looked around and saw no one else around, but the sound of the voice was unmistakable.

I know that voice.

Roxanne.

"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation."

Blaze grabbed hold of Ghost Rider's head and forced it up so that its hollow eyes were staring straight up at him.

"But deliver us from evil," Blaze and Roxanne finished.

Once Blaze was finished, the Ghost Rider couldn't scream anymore. Instead, it let loose a pitiful weeping sound. Its head bowed and its form began to slowly transition back to Flagg.

"It's okay, Flagg. It's okay. I'm here," Blaze said.

Blaze could feel the Ghost Rider's power surging back into him, filling up the space between his lungs again and strangling the inside of his throat. It was his burden to carry, but at least he had tamed it.

"Well done, John," Roxanne said.

Blaze reached over to grasp Roxanne's hand on his shoulder. He said nothing. Tears were sliding down his cheeks. Once all the power had left his best friend, he threw his arms around him and held him tight.

"What—what happened?" Flagg asked.

"I saved my brother," Blaze replied.

Flagg wept as he returned Blaze's embrace.

"Savor this while it lasts. Your friend can't break his deal," Zarathos said.

Blaze gifted himself with the satisfaction of not saying anything back. He didn't have to.**

*Coulson never thought that he would be leaving Santa Fe with something that possibly came from another world—or another realm. The gas cap that belonged to Ghost Rider's motorcycle was found lying on the ground right beside the bike. Why it had been carelessly left behind like that was beyond him, but he didn't care now. The Director would want to get his hands on it and have it analyzed. Perhaps it would serve as a useful tool against the great threats that were coming.

He had the cap in a briefcase he was holding while walking alongside Agent Jasper Sitwell, his bald and smug companion. Behind them were three rows of S.H.I.E.L.D agents and soldiers marching in line.

"Director Fury says we've overstayed our welcome here," Sitwell said.

"I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of being in the desert. Can't say I'd love to come again any time soon."

Sitwell glanced down at Coulson's suitcase as he walked. "Director Fury would want you to investigate the—incident—at Harlem. Getting to his office would be out of the way for you, so I can take the case to him from here."

"A shame. I was hoping to deliver the item to him personally. I like the idea of being dramatic about it, you know, with one hand under the case and the other hand opening it up top. Then the glow of the item will light up Director Fury's face as he lets loose some salty expletives."

Sitwell stared. "You don't know the Director at all, do you?"

"I like to think I do. Helps me sleep better at night."

Before Sitwell could respond with a clever quip, the helicopter waiting to pick them up in front of them exploded. Coulson's eyes shot straight up and he slipped in the sand.

"What the hell was that?"

Coulson turned around behind him to see a cloaked figure armed with a sword. The necks of the first line of agents in the back of the three lines mysteriously snapped. Simultaneously, they all fell to the ground with unblinking eyes.

Sitwell immediately pulled out a walkie-talkie and tuned in to a particular channel. "This is Agent Sitwell, we need a new ride. Repeat, we need a new ride! Be fast!"

The ground shook, tossing Coulson and Sitwell off their feet as an explosion of sand and dirt engulfed another portion of soldiers. Parts of their bodies rained back down to the ground.

The figure threw his sword so that it spun in the air, and impaled another agent through the chest and out the back. Blood dripped from its tip. The man fell when the figure used some sort of telekinetic power with his hand to summon the weapon back to him.

"Where is that damn helicopter?!" Sitwell screamed.

Coulson was entranced by what he was seeing. He thought he knew all of what to expect in his field of work. This, however, was something else. Something far more horrifying.

The air stank of blood and smoke. Dirt was crusting over Coulson's eyes from the ground's recent outbursts. He could hear his heart pounding through his ears as it felt like it was trying to find a way out.

Finally—mercifully—another helicopter arrived, landing as close to Coulson and Sitwell as possible. The cloaked figure realized that they were about to get away, and made it an effort to cut down the remaining soldiers in front of him even faster now.

"Come on, come on!" Sitwell yelled. He dragged Coulson by the hand, and the two of them leaped together onto the helicopter.

"GO!" Sitwell screamed at the pilot.

In a frantic hurry, the pilot began lifting the helicopter off.

Then it shuddered and stopped going up. Coulson looked down to see the figure below with an outstretched hand, using whatever power he had to keep the helicopter from getting away. Coulson wrestled his stun gun out of his holster and fired off several rounds. The first two missed, but the third caught the figure squarely in the hand. With a pained cry, the cloaked man dropped his hand and held onto it. Coulson could vaguely see blood dripping from its fingers in the light the helicopter was emanating.

Relief poured over him like a bucket of refreshing water. He sat back in his seat and let out a deep breath.

Feels good to be alive.

Then he realized something as he was clutching the briefcase to his chest. Something felt bumpy. He pulled the case back to take a closer look at it and his eyes widened at what he saw.

There was a gaping hole in the case, and the cap was missing. Amidst all the chaos, the figure was somehow able to use his own power to carve a hole in the case and pull the medallion to him. He had what he needed.

"You've got to be frickin' kidding me," Sitwell said when he saw what Coulson saw.

"We can't go back," Coulson replied in a hushed tone.

"That thing is valuable. Beyond valuable. We can't just leave it behind."

"We have to. We're not strong enough to take him. This is a job for the skull guy," Coulson said.

Sitwell groaned and placed his head in his hands. "Director Fury will not be happy about this."

"It wouldn't be the first time."**

*Back on the ground, Stephen Lords held the Medallion in his hand, rubbing his fingers over it like it was a coin. A triumphant grin coursed through his face and his eyes glowed a feverish yellow. He pressed his thumb down at the very center and it opened up like a compass, revealing an orange gem contained within.

It was the Soul Gem. One of six Infinity Stones in the galaxy.

And now it was Stephen Lord's.

Nothing will stop me now. Prepare yourself, Mephisto. I will ensnare you and kill your Ghost Rider.