Though he had evaded Ghost Rider's demonic chains, the Human Torch immediately recognized that his opponent was no ordinary adversary.
His certainty that Ghost Rider was no simple mutant grew with each passing moment. Though mutant X-gene powers often defied conventional science, Johnny's intuition told him the flames engulfing those chains were something altogether different from normal fire.
Ordinary flames couldn't extend a five-meter chain to thirty meters in an instant. Moreover, within the hellfire wreathing those chains, he sensed an essence completely alien to natural fire—a heat signature that vastly exceeded anything in his considerable experience with flame.
Who is this guy?
The Human Torch hovered cautiously, studying Ghost Rider with growing concern.
Though Johnny had temporarily ceased his attacks, Ghost Rider had already determined judgment was necessary. Meeting Johnny's gaze, Ghost Rider opened his skeletal jaw and released an otherworldly roar that echoed through the Brooklyn night.
Then, with practiced precision, he continued manipulating his mystical chains. Ghost Rider's movements resembled those of a western cowboy effortlessly wielding a supernatural lasso.
Just as Johnny anticipated another attack directed at him, Ghost Rider abruptly pivoted and hurled his hellfire chains toward the fleeing gang members.
The hellfire-infused links sliced through the night air like crimson lightning, reaching the criminals in an eyeblink. With a casual flick of his wrist, Ghost Rider animated the chains to ensnare the fleeing men, binding them instantly.
In the following second, Ghost Rider gently retracted his hand, causing the chain-bound gangsters to fly through the air, landing directly before him. Without hesitation or ceremony, hellfire consumed them completely, reducing the criminals to ash within moments.
Ghost Rider paid their remains no further attention, instead retrieving a pistol that had fallen from one of the gangsters.
A Glock 17.
Hellfire infusion!
Immediately upon grasping the weapon, Ghost Rider began transforming it. Within seconds, the Glock 17—its components a mixture of metal for the barrel and spring, with engineering plastics forming the remainder—morphed into a skeletal firearm that appeared carved from ancient bone.
Like the chains, this ghostly pistol now radiated with supernatural hellfire.
Watching Ghost Rider retrieve and transform the fallen weapon, Johnny recognized the situation had deteriorated. His intuition proved correct.
After converting the standard Glock into a supernatural weapon, Ghost Rider immediately trained it on the hovering Human Torch.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Without hesitation, Ghost Rider pulled the trigger repeatedly, sending demonically-enhanced bullets screaming toward the airborne hero.
Though Ghost Rider generally preferred close combat with melee weapons, this preference didn't preclude firearm usage.
Times changed. Even Ghost Rider adapted.
His mount offered the clearest evidence—prehistoric Ghost Riders rode mammoths or horses, while modern incarnations favored motorcycles or muscle cars.
Though capable of wielding supernatural firearms, Ghost Rider's marksmanship left much to be desired. Soon, he exhausted the pistol's original ammunition.
Upon seeing Ghost Rider raise the transformed weapon, the Human Torch executed rapid aerial evasive maneuvers. Though currently in his flame form, his physical durability remained insufficient to withstand direct bullet impacts. A successful hit would still cause injury.
Thanks to the considerable distance and Ghost Rider's limited accuracy, Johnny successfully evaded the barrage.
Yet Ghost Rider persisted. After depleting the conventional ammunition, he channeled hellfire directly into the weapon, forming supernatural projectiles to replace the spent bullets.
He resumed firing without pause.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The distinctive report of gunfire shattered the night's tranquility.
While evading Ghost Rider's relentless fire, the Human Torch initiated his counterattack. Though unarmed in the conventional sense, this hardly mattered—Johnny himself constituted the most formidable weapon in this encounter.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Like a human bomber, Johnny exploited his aerial advantage, launching concentrated fireballs toward Ghost Rider with artillery-like precision.
The explosive confrontation between the Human Torch and Ghost Rider rapidly drew attention from nearby residents. Recognizing the airborne combatant as the famous Fantastic Four member, onlookers instinctively reached for their phones.
Some called authorities.
Others, inevitably, began recording the supernatural battle.
Meanwhile, in the charity dinner's grand hall, Richard remained unaware of the clash between Ghost Rider and the Human Torch. He casually deposited his newly acquired jewelry into his system space.
Though the auction hadn't concluded, he felt no inclination to linger. Just as he prepared to escort Nina from the hotel toward her apartment for their planned "card game" with the sisters, Kingpin approached, flanked by two associates.
"Mr. Wesley, please stay," Fisk requested with uncharacteristic politeness.
"Is something wrong?" Richard replied slowly, regarding Kingpin with mild confusion.
"It's like this—I have a matter I'd like to discuss with you privately," Kingpin continued. "I wonder if you might spare a few minutes of your valuable time."
Observing the crime lord's unexpected deference—behavior entirely inconsistent with his reputation as America's underworld emperor—Richard considered only briefly before casually responding, "Alright."
Turning to Nina, he instructed, "Wait for me in the car."
"Mmhmm," she nodded, proceeding toward the exit on her ten-centimeter stiletto heels.
Once Nina departed, Richard addressed Kingpin directly: "Lead the way."
Though Fisk hadn't explicitly mentioned relocating, it went without saying that the crowded hall provided insufficient privacy for their conversation.
Kingpin nodded appreciatively, gesturing respectfully for Richard to follow. He then proceeded toward a small conference room adjacent to the main hall.
Upon reaching the doorway, Fisk instructed his men to remain outside, then entered the room directly.
As Richard and Kingpin entered the conference room, Fisk's men promptly closed the door behind them.
Richard selected a chair at random and settled into it, then addressed the matter directly: "What do you want to discuss?"
"If you're seeking my help to strengthen your position as America's crime lord—or even expand globally—don't waste your breath. I have no interest in such matters, and I doubt you could offer anything that would entice me."
Hearing Richard's blunt assessment, Kingpin seated himself opposite him. He reached for the whiskey decanter on the table, poured a generous measure into a crystal tumbler, and responded with a practiced smile: "Though I've established considerable influence in certain circles, I wouldn't presume to trouble you with such pedestrian concerns, Mr. Wesley..."
Fisk paused, extending the glass toward Richard.
Richard accepted the offering without hesitation. He took a measured sip, assessing the liquor's quality.
Not bad at all.
He nodded appreciatively. While not a whiskey connoisseur, he could certainly distinguish exceptional spirits from mediocre ones.
"My situation is this," Kingpin continued. "I face a particular rival—whether mutant or otherwise, I cannot say with certainty—who possesses formidable capabilities."
"I understand you maintain little interest in underworld affairs, Mr. Wesley, but I hope you might consider rendering assistance in this specific matter."
"Regarding compensation, name your price. Whatever lies within my power to provide is yours without negotiation."
Kingpin regarded Richard with an expression of calculated sincerity, then retrieved a folder from the table and presented it to him.
Though uncertain which adversary troubled Fisk enough to seek external intervention, Richard accepted the dossier and began examining its contents.
Him? Of all people?
Upon viewing the photographs within, Richard immediately recognized the subject. A cascade of associated information flooded his mind:
Ten Rings. Shang-Chi. Wenwu. Dragon. Soul Devourer. Ta Lo.
Despite his surprise, Richard maintained a neutral expression as he methodically reviewed the intelligence Kingpin had compiled.
After completing his assessment, he confirmed several elements absent from the official documentation.
The primary target, Wenwu, appeared to have followed a different trajectory than his cinematic counterpart.
According to Kingpin's intelligence, the Ten Rings organization—operating through both political manipulation and military force—had maintained consistent activity for decades without interruption.
While average citizens remained oblivious to the Ten Rings' existence, identifying their operational patterns presented minimal challenge for someone of Fisk's resources and connections. After all, from a certain perspective, Kingpin and Wenwu occupied similar professional spheres.
Though their objectives differed substantially, both the Ten Rings and Kingpin's network operated within the global criminal ecosystem.
If the Ten Rings had maintained high activity levels throughout recent decades without periods of dormancy, this strongly suggested Wenwu had never married in this timeline.
Otherwise, following the pattern established in the film, he would have temporarily abandoned his criminal empire after his child's birth, entertaining notions of ordinary domestic life.
What a shame.
Richard felt a twinge of disappointment—not for Wenwu's circumstances, but because this development potentially denied him the opportunity to personally eliminate Shang-Chi, the son who had betrayed his heritage.
That film was truly abysmal.
After viewing the Shang-Chi movie, Richard's primary contempt wasn't directed at Wenwu but at Shang-Chi himself—thoroughly indoctrinated with Western values and disconnected from his cultural roots.
Richard acknowledged Wenwu's villainous nature without reservation. Yet compared to the repulsive Shang-Chi, Wenwu possessed substantially more compelling characteristics and genuine charisma.
Wait—I may still have an opportunity to kill Shang-Chi!
While lamenting the missed chance, Richard realized he had overlooked a crucial consideration.
This wasn't the cinematic universe.
Though Kingpin's intelligence suggested Wenwu and the Ten Rings closely resembled their film counterparts, this reality operated under different principles.
This meant that if this world's Wenwu had produced offspring—regardless of whether the mother was Ying Li from Ta Lo or someone else entirely—his son would almost certainly manifest as Shang-Chi.
The pattern resembled Franklin Richards in parallel universes: regardless of who fathered the Invisible Woman's child, in most probability streams, that child emerged as Franklin.
Similarly, Wenwu's son—should he exist—would likely be Shang-Chi, regardless of maternal lineage.
This realization transformed Richard's initial disappointment into renewed interest.
The compensation Kingpin might offer for neutralizing Wenwu held minimal significance. Richard's primary motivation now centered on potential access to Shang-Chi.
Put simply: if this world's Shang-Chi resembled his cinematic counterpart, Richard would eliminate him without hesitation.
After successfully dispatching Captain America and Dark Phoenix, Richard had begun contemplating his future trajectory. No longer required to maintain a nomadic existence, capable of living comfortably in this reality, what activities would maximize his personal satisfaction?
After cursory deliberation, he reached a decision entirely consonant with his nature: systematically eliminate every Marvel Universe character he found personally detestable.
Shang-Chi. Captain Marvel. The Eternals. All qualified candidates.
Though such actions would inevitably create complications—eliminating the Eternals, for instance, would likely attract Celestial attention—these consequences failed to deter him.
The Celestials? Merely another class of entities.
No cause for concern.
Any living being, even those designated as gods, could be killed. Failure to accomplish this indicated insufficient power, nothing more.
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New fanfic :
Marvel : The God Of Punishment System
I Am Raditz
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