A noisy house on the city’s outskirts glowed in the night, lit by the beams of a stereo system. Loud voices, clinking glasses, and bursts of laughter spilled out. Johnny Blaze sat on his bike in the shadows, watching the building with a calmness born of years of routine.


    “A private party,” he thought, eyeing the procession of cars at the entrance. “Don Francesco gathered his friends. Just the way he likes it. And just the way I like it. I’ll swat them all out at once.”


    Johnny''s gaze fell on the bazooka he had taken from the accountant’s house. He picked it up, feeling the weight of the weapon, and then ran his bony fingers along the barrel, charging it with hellfire. The metal blackened like coal, and a faint smoke began to stream from the muzzle.


    "One shot," he thought.


    He raised the bazooka, aimed at the building, and pulled the trigger. The deafening explosion roared through the surroundings. Flames surged outward, consuming walls and roofs. The Francesco villa became a fiery inferno.


    Tossing the bazooka aside—it instantly turned to ash—Johnny returned to his bike. But a strange sound caught his attention, like a stampede of rhinos heading straight for him.


    He spun around just as a crimson blur burst from the burning building, hurtling toward him. Before the impact, a raspy voice rang out:


    “Hi, Hothead!”


    The blow sent him flying ten meters into a brick wall. His bones cracked, and part of his spine shattered into fragments.


    "That punch could take out a tank," Johnny thought, slowly rising from the rubble.


    Before him stood a true giant, at least five times his size. Massive muscles stretched under thin armor, and his head was concealed by a heavy helmet. Through its slits, a smug grin was visible.


    "Well, look at this! A flaming skeleton!" The man laughed. "I thought my pals were roasted by that fire clown from the Fantastic Four, but you’re not him. You’re the Ghost Rider, right? I read about you in the Temple of Cyttorak. Name’s Juggernaut. Hope you’re tough!"


    Before Johnny could respond, Juggernaut struck again. The kick sent Johnny soaring a dozen blocks, and when he landed, he shattered the asphalt beneath him. Car alarms wailed, and residents woke up, but the noise was nothing compared to the next event—Juggernaut’s leap.


    “Hothead, you’re pretty sturdy!” the man yelled mid-air. His landing shattered every window in the building. “Haven’t had a fight like this in ages. Come on, show me your best shot!”


    Juggernaut crossed his massive arms over his chest, waiting. Johnny wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.


    Johnny stood, scanning the wrecked asphalt around him, and spotted a manhole cover. He picked it up and swung it with all his strength at the giant. The cover shattered into pieces, but the attacker didn’t even flinch.


    “Damn! That strike could turn a man into a bloody smear, and his armor doesn’t even have a scratch,” Johnny thought. “He’s protected by some kind of invisible force field...”


    "Not bad, little Tyson," Juggernaut sneered. "Now watch how real men hit!"


    The giant grabbed a nearby car and smashed it into Johnny, turning the vehicle into a heap of scrap metal. Beneath the wreckage, Johnny reflected:


    “Why the theatrics? Doesn’t he see how quickly my bones regenerate? Without nerve endings, I don’t even feel pain. Or is he testing ways to kill me?”


    When Juggernaut tossed aside the car remains, his face beamed with a broad smile.


    “Wake up, Hothead! The night’s just getting started!”


    Johnny discreetly drew a knife from his boot, ignited it with flames, and hurled it at the giant’s chest. The blade sank to the hilt. A thin trickle of blood dripped from Juggernaut’s mouth. It was a direct hit to the heart.


    “You’re pulling a knife in a fight?” Juggernaut pouted, like a disappointed parent over a bad report card. “What a hillbilly!”


    The next punch sent Johnny flying again. The crimson blur of Juggernaut charged after him, plowing through a dozen buildings.


    “So my flames can penetrate his force field, but it doesn’t matter,” Johnny thought, watching the knife wound close instantly in a crimson flash.


    Finally, Juggernaut stopped, tossing Johnny into a lamppost. Shards of the lamp scattered onto his skull.


    “Did you see me run?” Juggernaut laughed. “That’s my super move—the Unstoppable Juggernaut! Now show me your big trick!”


    Johnny activated the Penance Stare. A fiery spiral of sins flared around Juggernaut’s head but dissipated instantly, as if hitting an impenetrable barrier.


    “Some kind of psychic crap?” Juggernaut frown. “Fight like a man!”


    The next punch launched Johnny across the street and into the wall of a music store. Juggernaut’s laughter echoed in the distance:


    “And now for a musical break! Get it? Musical break!”


    Johnny lay among the broken musical instruments, sheets of music fluttering down onto him.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "If this keeps up, that idiot will destroy the whole city. And I’m supposed to kill this magical Hulk with just this," he muttered, gripping a pair of drumsticks.


    Johnny stepped out onto the street. Juggernaut stood a hundred meters away, smirking. Johnny extended a hand and gestured for him to attack.


    "Hothead, you a karate master now?" the enemy jeered, striking a runner''s pose. "Show me your kung fu!"


    Juggernaut accelerated into a crimson blur once again.


    Johnny quickly hurled the drumsticks, which wrapped around a lamppost, securing the piano wire he held in his hands. With a single motion, he pulled the wire taut at Juggernaut’s head level and ignited it with hellfire. The metallic string glowed bright, turning into a lethal trap.


    “Oh no,” muttered the unstoppable force.


    His head flew off his shoulders, and blood flooded the street.


    Now to remove the helmet and burn that thick skull.


    “That hurts, you bony pig!” screamed the head mid-flight. Juggernaut’s hands caught it like a basketball and placed it back onto his neck. The wound healed instantly. “Now you’ve made me mad!”


    A crimson flash! Juggernaut grabbed Johnny by the skull and charged forward, grinding calcium off his bones with every wall they smashed through.


    “Get out of the way, morons!” Juggernaut roared. “I’m about to beat the Hothead to a pulp!”


    “No, oh no,” Johnny thought, realizing where they were heading.


    The crimson missile slammed into a gas station. The resulting fuel explosion shot flames skyward. No one had time to evacuate in a single second.


    “Are you an idiot?!” Johnny yelled, climbing out of the fire. “I’m the Ghost Rider! Fire doesn’t hurt me! You just killed innocent people!”


    Juggernaut laughed.


    “Oh, so you can talk!” he exclaimed cheerfully, kicking a charred corpse. “Feeling sad over a bunch of nobodies? Don’t pretend you’re a hero. We’re both killers.”


    A new, unfamiliar fire began to burn in Johnny’s ribs. He had never wanted to kill someone this badly in his entire life.


    “I never hurt those who didn’t deserve it,” the Rider said, his hollow eye sockets fixed on Juggernaut. “I’ve never taken an innocent life. I only kill parasites who ruin others’ lives. And now you’ve claimed the top spot on my list.”


    Johnny unleashed the fire inside him. He felt himself transform. Everything burned. Not just hellfire—something brighter, more merciless. Golden flames erupted through the usual blaze, and Johnny felt himself slipping away. His consciousness blurred, his thoughts drowned in pure rage. His body began to change: bones elongated and grew stronger, the air smelled of molten metal. The fiery trail behind him melted asphalt, and every bone seemed sharp enough to cut steel.


    Johnny wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t holding back. He had become a storm, a force of pure destruction.


    “Oh-ho-ho! Is that Zarathos I see?” Juggernaut bellowed gleefully, his form changing too. His skin turned crimson, bony protrusions emerged from his body, and lightning danced in his eyes. “Then meet Cyttorak!”


    Zarathos didn’t listen. Zarathos thirsted for vengeance. Zarathos saw a sinner, and nothing could stop him. Golden flames burned through sin as Zarathos charged into battle.


    ---


    Johnny was back in control, the familiar Ghost Rider once again. But nothing else was familiar. An entire city block was engulfed in flames. 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 laughter.


    “That was a blast, 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 flames 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 flames 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 collapsed 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, flames 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 laugh.


    "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 regular 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 relax. His gaze fell on the remote, and he turned on the TV. The screen showed images of a city district engulfed in flames.


    "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 flames..." 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 place 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 atit. He picked up the phone and dialed the number.


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