At night, in a small town that was nearly reduced to rubble, Ethan stood at the edge of a massive crater, surveying the destruction left behind.
"Hey, Coulson, can you hear me?" Ethan pressed the communicator in his ear, his voice laced with mild irritation.
Static crackled in response before Coulson's voice came through, distorted. "Sshhh... Yeah, I hear you... signal's a bit rough. I might need to boost it. But if you head deeper into the core... ssshh... communication might cut out entirely."
Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Great. You guys sat back watching while I fought the Destroyer during the day, and now, it's night, and I'm the only one working overtime."
"There's no other way," Coulson replied, his voice carrying a note of sympathy. "The explosion left behind intense radiation. If a regular human stepped in there without a hazmat suit, they'd be dead in under a minute. You're the only one who can do this."
"I know, I know." Ethan rolled his eyes. "You guys love reminding me how special I am. But let's not pretend this is just about safety.
You want Asgardian tech. If we can salvage even a fraction of the Destroyer's wreckage, the benefits for humanity would be beyond imagination."
"Exactly. This isn't just about S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore; this is about the future of mankind. The advancements alone—"
"Yeah, yeah, save the speech. If I didn't already understand that, I'd have clocked out by now," Ethan interrupted. "What's the status on Thor?"
"He's fine. Doctor said he's as tough as a herd of oxen. Should be waking up soon. The other Asgardians are standing guard over him, so they won't be getting in your way. That gives you—roughly—a night to work."
Ethan exhaled sharply. "Alright, I'll see what I can recover. Hopefully, the spatial collapse destroyed only the core and left something useful behind."
Without hesitation, he leapt into the crater, landing smoothly at the bottom.
The moment he hit the ground, the communicator went silent—nothing but static.
"Figures," he muttered.
Summoning his power, two brilliant orbs of compressed plasma flickered to life, hovering around him.
They spun in slow orbits, casting a bright glow that illuminated the area within a ten-meter radius.
As he moved toward the center of the crater, something unusual caught his eye.
A flickering light, not from the Destroyer's wreckage, but fire—burning steadily.
A sense of unease settled in his chest.
"That's not supposed to be there," Ethan murmured, narrowing his eyes. He picked up the pace, heading toward the eerie glow.
Sure enough, standing amidst the destruction was a lone figure—Ghost Rider, his hellcycle idling beside him, flames licking the edges of his skeletal frame.
Ethan's eyes darted downward, quickly spotting a humanoid-shaped indentation in the dirt.
A fresh impact site.
One that looked eerily similar to the outline of the Destroyer.
His jaw clenched. "You took the wreckage." His voice was calm, but his fingers twitched slightly. "Didn't think you were the type to be interested in Asgardian scrap metal."
Ghost Rider tilted his flaming skull toward Ethan, the fire in his eye sockets flaring slightly. "I'm not. But I know you are."
Ethan's gaze hardened. "Why? Why go through the trouble?"
Ghost Rider remained silent for a moment, the fire around him crackling ominously.
He hadn't attacked yet, which meant this wasn't just some mindless brawl. But that only raised more questions.
Ethan flexed his fingers, readying his vector control just in case. This was about to get interesting.
So obviously, it had to be the Ghost Rider's host now, and Johnny's consciousness had temporarily gained the upper hand.
This wasn't an easy feat—perhaps the old Ghost Warrior had taught him some tricks.
"I want the Contract of San Venganza," Ghost Rider demanded.
"That's impossible," Ethan replied firmly, shaking his head.
Leaving aside the fact that the contract was something the Ancient One was interested in, there was a bigger problem—Ghost Rider was tied to Mephisto, the lord of Hell.
If the contract ended up in Mephisto's hands, the consequences would be disastrous.
"Then I won't hand over the wreckage of the Destroyer to you," Ghost Rider countered, refusing to back down.
"Really?" Ethan's eyes turned cold. "Then what if I just take it from you?"
"That's exactly what I was thinking."
"You really think you can beat me?" Ethan's lips curled into a smirk as he faced Ghost Rider's challenge.
"If I go all out, you won't walk away unscathed. In the end, we'll both lose," Ghost Rider warned.
"Both lose?" Ethan suddenly laughed. "I think you're misunderstanding something."
As he spoke, Ethan took a step forward.
Ghost Rider, sensing the movement, immediately revved his Hellcycle, preparing for an attack.
But to his surprise, Ethan wasn't posturing for a fight.
He simply walked right up to him, completely unguarded.
"You're either insane or suicidal!" Ghost Rider barked, a mix of confusion and rage flashing in his burning eyes.
But deep down, a flicker of excitement ignited—wasn't this exactly the opening he needed?
Without hesitation, Ghost Rider shot his hand forward, aiming for Ethan's throat.
If he could land this, he was sure he could incapacitate him instantly.
He was close—so close.
And then, he had him.
Inside Ghost Rider's body, both Johnny and the Spirit of Vengeance felt the thrill of victory.
But in the next instant, their confidence shattered—Ethan didn't react at all.
"What?! Impossible!" Ghost Rider roared in disbelief.
"Oh, it's very possible," Ethan said casually, reaching up and gripping Ghost Rider's neck in return, effortlessly lifting him off the ground.
"This—this can't be! The flames of Hell should be searing your flesh!" Ghost Rider struggled, but his hellfire didn't even leave a scorch mark.
"I'm immune," Ethan answered with a smirk.
During his previous battle with the Destroyer, Ethan had stumbled upon something interesting.
There were two ways to analyze magic—actively studying it through knowledge and spiritual power, or the more effective method: direct exposure.
At first, the Destroyer's beams had been an obvious threat.
But the more it used them, the less dangerous they became.
Over time, Ethan realized that simply being in proximity to an attack allowed him to break it down, understand its mechanics, and eventually neutralize it.
It was all thanks to his mutant ability—Vector Control.
Magic and superpowers weren't so different, like airplanes and birds—different structures, same fundamental principles.
All he had to do was experience them a few times, and the veil between the two would unravel.
"As for your hellfire," Ethan continued, pulling a small glass vial from his jacket.
Inside, a mixture of sand swirled around a faint ember of hellfire—the same residue Ghost Rider had left behind in their last encounter.
"I analyzed it after just three touches."
Ghost Rider's eyes flickered in alarm as Ethan tightened his grip. "Now, tell me—where is the wreckage of the Destroyer?"
Ghost Rider gritted his teeth, struggling against Ethan's grip.
The flames around him surged, burning brighter, hotter—but they still couldn't touch him.
Frustration and disbelief twisted across Johnny's face.
"My patience has limits," Ethan warned.
In his free hand, a silver-blue sphere of energy formed, crackling with unstable power.
"Ever heard of a reverse black hole? Instead of pulling you in, it obliterates everything in its path." Ethan twirled the glowing orb in his hand, smirking as it doubled in size before Ghost Rider's eyes.
After a long moment of silence, Ghost Rider finally caved. "Twenty kilometers west of here. A hidden cave."
Satisfied, Ethan unceremoniously dropped Ghost Rider onto the ground.
He turned westward, muttering to himself. "Great. Can't even contact Coulson from here. Guess I'll have to report back in person."
Suddenly, a desperate hand grabbed his ankle.
He looked down—Johnny had regained control of his body, his fiery skull now replaced with his human face.
"Please—help me!" Johnny pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. "I need that contract. If I don't get it, Blackheart will slaughter the people of Los Angeles.
I know if the contract falls into his hands, it'll be a disaster. But Carter Slade told me—you can destroy it for real. Please, I swear, I'll take care of it!"
Ethan's expression twisted into something unreadable. "You're telling me Blackheart is just sitting around, waiting for you to deliver it?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, an eerie wind howled through the air. A sinister laugh echoed in the distance, carried by the breeze.
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Word count: 1515
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