Johnny was back in control, the familiar Ghost Rider once again. But nothing else was familiar. An entire city block was engulfed in fmes. All the buildings were in ruins, and faint groans of survivors could be heard beneath the rubble.

  Their cries were drowned out by Juggernaut’s thunderous ughter.

  “That was a bst, Hothead!” the killer beamed like a child. “Did you know our powers are alike? You need to punish, and I need to destroy. Now I’ve had my fill of destruction for the month. So, who’s the idiot now?”

  Johnny felt the golden fmes rise within him again, but he forced them back into the cage of his ribs. Zarathos wouldn’t help here.

  “Think I’m your enemy? No, Hothead, you’re just a tool. All of this—just for the sake of destruction.” Juggernaut crouched, ready for a powerful leap. “Well, I’m off before the super clowns show up!”

  And with that, he was gone, leaving Johnny in the ashes.

  ///

  Johnny returned home as the sky began to lighten, turning a pale gray. The silence around him was broken by a familiar voice.

  "Looks like you had a fiery night," Melissa quipped, leaning against the doorframe. "The fmes of your heroics were visible from the window."

  Johnny wordlessly shoved his jacket, reeking of smoke, into her hands. He was exhausted. Every movement sent a dull ache through his bones, still remembering Juggernaut's blows.

  "Does Mom know?" he asked grimly.

  "Mistress Naomi is asleep," Melissa drawled, her mischievous smile unwavering.

  "Then don’t tell her," Johnny growled, heading to the living room.

  "I doubt she won't figure it out after watching the news," Melissa added, following him.

  Johnny colpsed into an armchair, burying his head in his hands. Melissa, arms crossed, sat down across from him.

  "An encounter with another monster must’ve left quite the impression," she remarked sarcastically.

  "Yeah," Johnny muttered coldly.

  "I’m sure now you want to kill him," she continued. "I could help. Make you stronger—if you trust my expertise."

  "And how exactly?" Johnny raised his eyes, fmes of irritation flickering in them.

  "Convince your mother to give me back the Grimoire," Melissa said, her tone calm, as if discussing the weather.

  Johnny let out a hollow ugh.

  "Mom defeated you in a fair fight. You’re weaker than the Ghost Rider. You can’t make me stronger than Juggernaut. Get lost," he snapped.

  Melissa tensed for a fraction of a second before her usual expression returned.

  "As you wish, Master Jonathan," she replied, her voice silky but with a hint of menace. "I’ll go make breakfast, and you should prepare for nights like this to become a regur thing. These monsters are just the beginning. You have no idea what might crawl out of the shadows."

  The air filled with the faint smell of sulfur as her lips parted to reveal sharp, devilish fangs. But in the next instant, she was back to looking like an ordinary girl, disappearing down the hallway.

  Melissa was gone, but her words lingered in his mind. The world didn’t revolve around street criminals. Thinking of himself as the only monster had been naive. His chance encounter with Juggernaut had been a painful lesson.

  He needed to become stronger.

  Johnny tried to rex. His gaze fell on the remote, and he turned on the TV. The screen showed images of a city district engulfed in fmes.

  "A fire in the south. Witnesses report seeing two monsters fighting in the streets. One, they say, resembled a giant demon, while the other looked like death itself, wreathed in fmes..." The anchor spoke quickly, recounting the events.

  Johnny flinched when one witness said, "It was like a horror movie! We all thought it was the end. They destroyed an entire district in just a couple of minutes!"

  "Three minutes—that’s just one round, and we nearly burned all of New York," Johnny thought, a chill running down his spine. He pictured what would’ve happened if the fight had taken pce here, in their neighborhood. His loved ones would’ve burned alive, without even realizing what was happening.

  Captain America appeared on the screen.

  "We’re already on this case," he said confidently. "The Avengers will find those responsible and bring them to justice."

  Johnny abruptly changed the channel, but the same report greeted him. Another channel—still the same discussion.

  He stopped at an advertisement. On the screen, a man in a white suit with a warm smile spoke.

  "We are the Silver Wing Foundation. Our mission is to help those in difficult situations. It doesn’t matter who you are. If you need help, call us. We’re always ready to lend a hand."

  Johnny stared at the screen, hypnotized. It was time for decisive—or desperate—action, depending on how you looked at it. He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  "My name is Jonathan Bze. I need help."

  /////

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