But something snapped. The fire within Steven erupted without warning. His hands began to glow, the heat radiating from his palms like molten lava. The officers froze, their expressions shifting from smugness to terror as the temperature around them spiked.
"What the hell is this?!" one of the officers shouted, stumbling backward.
Steven looked down at his hands in horror. They weren't ablaze like the Ghost Rider, but they were no longer human. The skin glowed with a fiery red hue, cracks forming like molten fissures. He didn't want this. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
"Steven... no!" Kristina cried, her voice trembling.
But the inner soul within him—the spirit of vengeance—took over. In an instant, the heat surged outward in a deadly wave. Without touching them, the officers were engulfed in a fiery force that seared through their bodies, leaving no trace. The air was thick with the smell of scorched earth, and the porch beneath Steven's feet smoldered with the remnants of his outburst.
Kristina and Jim stood frozen, their faces pale with fear. Kristina whispered, "Steven... what did you just do?"
Steven couldn't answer. His chest heaved as he stared at his hands, trembling with frustration and guilt. "I didn't mean to," he muttered, his voice breaking. "I didn't want this to happen."
But there was no time to dwell. The distant wail of sirens filled the air. The remaining cops were closing in fast, alerted by the sudden disappearance of their comrades.
Steven turned to his garage, where his bike gleamed under the moonlight. "I can't stay here," he said, his voice laced with despair. He mounted the bike, gripping the handles tightly.
"Steven, no! You can't run!" Jim yelled.
But it was too late. The bike roared to life, flames erupting from the tires as it screeched out of the driveway. Kristina and Jim watched helplessly as he disappeared into the night, leaving a fiery trail in his wake.
The remaining officers spotted the fiery trail and immediately gave chase. Their cars sped through the winding streets, sirens blaring as they followed the molten path.
Steven leaned forward on the bike, his heart pounding. The heat around him intensified, flames licking at the edges of his clothes but never burning him. The tires left a streak of molten asphalt in their wake, the engine roaring like a beast unleashed.
"Stop right there!" a voice blared over the police megaphones.
Steven ignored them, his mind racing. He couldn't let them take him. He couldn't let them find out what he had become.
The chase intensified as the cops closed in. A roadblock loomed ahead, but Steven's fiery bike didn't slow. With a sharp turn, he veered off the road, cutting through an alley. The tires screamed as they scorched the pavement, flames erupting from the exhaust.
Bullets whizzed past him, but they were useless against the blazing aura that surrounded him. The bike became an extension of his rage, its fiery energy propelling him forward with inhuman speed.
In one dramatic move, Steven launched the bike off a ledge, flames erupting as he soared through the air. The cops skidded to a halt, watching in disbelief as he landed effortlessly, the flames dissipating just enough to keep him grounded.
But the pursuit didn't end there. More officers joined the chase, their cars swarming like predators. Steven weaved through the streets, his bike leaving fiery arcs as he maneuvered through narrow alleys and sharp corners.
Finally, a sharp burst of electricity hit the bike, a well-placed taser shot from one of the officers. The bike sputtered, the flames dimming as Steven lost control.
"No!" he shouted, his voice echoing with despair as the bike skidded to a halt. He tumbled to the ground, the fiery aura around him fading.
The officers surrounded him, their weapons drawn. Steven tried to stand, but his body was heavy, drained from the chase and the fiery outburst.
"Steven Henderson, you're under arrest," one officer said, his voice firm.
Steven's vision blurred as the world around him dimmed. The last thing he saw was the cold, unfeeling faces of the officers before everything went black.
***
Kristina and Jim stood outside the house, their faces pale and
their breaths quickened. The fiery chaos they had just witnessed was beyond comprehension. Steven had lost control, and the cops had taken him away.
Kristina clutched Jim's arm, her voice trembling. "What just happened, Jim? What did we see? What is happening to Steven?"
Jim, equally shaken, swallowed hard. "I don't know, but... that wasn't normal. It was like something—something took over him."
Kristina's fear turned into determination. "We can't give up on him. Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. He's not a monster."
Jim nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, but how do we help someone who's... turning into that?"
"We start by finding out what's really going on," Kristina said firmly, wiping her tears. "Steven needs us now more than ever."
***
Steven woke up with a jolt, his head pounding and his wrists bound. He was sitting in a cold, metallic chair in a dimly lit interrogation room. In front of him stood Officer Dalon, a stern man with a hardened demeanor. Beside him was Detective Halbert, whose campy and overly casual behavior contrasted sharply with Dalton's serious tone.
Dalon leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. "Steven Henderson, do you know why you're here?"
Steven blinked, still disoriented. "I assume it's not for jaywalking," he muttered dryly.
Dalton's jaw tightened. "Don't play smart. We've got reports of strange sightings and deaths following your trail. Care to explain?"
Steven remained silent, his eyes fixed on the table.
Halbert chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Not much of a talker, huh? Let's see if a little humor works." He held the cigarette out to Steven. "Hey, you think you can light this for me with that... fiery thing you did?"
Steven's gaze snapped up, cold and sharp. "Me? As an honorable citizen of this city, I want to say you've got the wrong guy. I'm not any monster you're talking about." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "The one you're after is Blackout—a demon from hell—" He started losing control. "And he's scrapping at the door!!!" He scoffs. The officers thought they just caught a mental patient.
Dalton sighed, rubbing his temples. "A demon? Really? You expect us to believe that?"
Halbert smirked. "Dalton, I think we've got ourselves a mental patient here. Demons and fire powers? That's straight out of a comic book."
From outside the room, Arthur Brown, a journalist with a keen eye, took notes on the heated exchange. He whispered to himself, "This is gold... if it's true."
Dalton finally lost his patience and slammed the table. "Enough of this nonsense! You're going to a cell until you decide to tell us the truth."
***
Steven was shoved into a crowded cell filled with hardened criminals. The steel bars clanged shut behind him, the sound echoing ominously. The other inmates eyed him with suspicion and hostility.
Steven sat in a corner, trying to control his breathing. He could feel the fire inside him stirring, threatening to break free. He muttered under his breath, "Not now. Don't let it out."
One of the inmates, a burly man with tattoos covering his arms, sneered. "What's your deal, huh? You think you're better than us?"
Steven didn't respond, his hands clenched into fists.
Another inmate laughed. "He's scared. Look at him shaking."
Steven's voice cracked as he whispered, "Stay back. You don't want to do this."
The inmates laughed louder, mistaking his warning for fear. The burly man stepped closer, towering over Steven. "What's the matter? You gonna cry?"
Steven's breathing grew heavier, his body trembling as the fire within him began to rise. "I said... stay back."
The man grabbed Steven by the collar. "Or what?"
Suddenly, Steven's body erupted in heat. His eyes glowed fiery orange, and his hands began to smolder. The air in the cell grew oppressively hot.
The inmates backed away, fear replacing their mockery. But it was too late. The Rider emerged.
In an instant, Steven transformed. His skull ignited, and the fiery aura engulfed him. The Ghost Rider stood among them, a harbinger of death.
Two of the inmates tried to attack, but the Rider grabbed them, his hands burning like molten iron. With a single move, he incinerated them, leaving nothing but ash. The remaining inmates screamed in terror, pressing themselves against the bars to escape.
Steven, now the Rider, turned his fiery gaze toward the melted metal scraps in the corner of the cell. He reached for a chain, its links glowing as they absorbed the heat of his rage. Wrapping the chain around his shoulder, he turned to the terrified inmates.
And just like that, the flames receded. Steven stood there, human once more, breathing heavily as he looked at the terrified faces around him. He shook his head in frustration.
Without another word, Steven walked out of the cell, leaving the metal bars melted and warped behind him. The inmates didn't dare move or speak.
Steven walked through the empty corridors of the station, the echoes of his footsteps haunting him. The building was eerily silent, the officers too stunned—or too scared—to confront him. He mounted his bike and roared off into the night, his fiery trail burning brighter than ever.
Inside the station, Arthur Brown stared at the security footage, his hand trembling as he took notes. "This... this is going to change everything."
Steven climbed onto his bike, the engine roaring to life as flames flickered at its edges. The station behind him was eerily silent, the echoes of chaos still hanging in the air. He adjusted the chain on his shoulder, ready to leave the place that had already seen too much destruction.
Just as he was about to accelerate, a shout rang out.
"Hey, freak!"
Steven turned his head to see a lone cop standing a few feet away, gripping a metal rod. His face was a mixture of anger and terror, sweat dripping down his temple.
"Stay right there!" the cop bellowed, his voice shaky but determined.
But the cop didn't listen. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, he charged forward, swinging the rod with all his might. The metal connected with Steven's head in a brutal thud, the impact so strong that a small crack appeared in his skull.
Steven's head tilted slightly from the force, and for a moment, everything went still. The flames around his body flickered, dimmed—and then reignited with a vengeance. He slowly turned to face the cop, his fiery gaze locking onto him.
The cop froze, his courage evaporating as Steven's eyes began to glow brighter, burning like twin suns. The air around them grew hotter, the asphalt beneath the bike starting to sizzle.
Steven stood up from the bike, his skeletal hands gripping the handlebars tightly. The crack in his skull began to glow, molten light seeping out like lava from a fissure.
Unable to withstand the intensity, the cop screamed and turned, running as fast as his legs could carry him.
Steven watched him disappear into the night, his fiery aura gradually dimming. He reached up and touched the crack in his skull, feeling the heat radiating from it. It hurt—but it also fueled his anger.
The flames around the bike roared to life as he sped off into the darkness, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
Behind him, the station and its inhabitants were left in stunned silence, the eerie glow of his departure lingering in the air.