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-General P.O.V-
The stale, smoky air of Gotham's East End weighed heavily in the dimly lit goon bar.
A few lowlifes muttered among themselves at the corner, hunched over their drinks as if they were trying to shrink away from the world.
Jimmy, sitting at the bar, knocked back his whiskey, barely tasting it.
He'd heard enough of the idle chatter around him to sour his mood.
They were going on about the Ghost Rider, how the spirit of vengeance had put most of the criminals in Gotham out of business.
"Yeah, he's behind bars now. Good riddance, I say." one thug slurred, gesturing wildly with his bottle. "And with the Rider gone, all the big shots underground? They'll start making their way back, just you wait."
Jimmy rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Idiots don't even know what they're asking for."
The talk was getting under his skin. He hadn't heard from the boss since Michael went after the League.
That made Jimmy nervous.
Cops were on high alert, searching for anyone connected to the Rider's reign of vengeance. Searching for him.
He wasn't safe here anymore. Gotham had become a pressure cooker, and he wasn't about to stick around for when it exploded.
Dropping his glass onto the counter, Jimmy pushed through the door, stepping into the murky Gotham evening.
The sun had sunk below the skyline, and the streetlights flickered to life, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalks.
With no clear direction, he started walking, his mind racing with questions about whether it was time to leave the city for good.
As his boots thudded against the pavement, Jimmy passed by a narrow alley.
His attention was caught by muffled voices, a girl's desperate pleas echoing off the grimy walls. He didn't need to look to know what was happening.
Jimmy's first instinct was to keep walking. He wasn't anyone's hero, never had been.
What did he care about some girl's fate? He'd learned long ago that getting involved usually got you killed. But his feet stopped moving.
What would the boss do?
The question hung in the air, and Jimmy cursed under his breath. The Ghost Rider would've ripped those scumbags apart for what they were doing. Punished them for their sins.
And Jimmy? He was just a goon, but maybe… maybe it was time to try being something more.
Gritting his teeth, Jimmy spun on his heel and stormed into the alley.
The thugs barely had time to react before his fist connected with one of their jaws, sending him sprawling.
Years of experience as a hired hand kicked in, and he moved like a well-oiled machine, fists flying, elbows crushing ribs.
Within moments, the attackers were groaning on the ground, blood and bruises marking their defeat.
Jimmy knelt down, checking on the girl. She was shaken but alive.
"You alright?" he muttered, awkwardly, not sure what else to say.
Before she could respond, a shadow fell over him. Instinctively, Jimmy whipped out his gun, pointing it at the figure behind him.
His heart skipped a beat when he realized who it was.
Floating a few feet above the ground, bathed in the glow of a setting sun, was Michael.
"Boss…?" Jimmy breathed, lowering the gun in disbelief. "You came back?"
Michael, calm and impassive, descended slowly to the ground, brows raising at the scared girl hiding behind Jimmy. "I've been tracking you, Jimmy. Came to say goodbye, though I see you're currently preoccupied..."
Jimmy's brow furrowed as he tucked his gun away. "Goodbye? You leavin' Gotham?"
Michael nodded seriously, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Yes. My time here's over. I won't be coming back."
For a moment, the air seemed to freeze. Jimmy stood there, unable to find the words. "You're leaving me behind?" he asked, his voice gruff with frustration.
"No." Michael's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Not...entirely." As he spoke, a massive shadow loomed overhead.
From above, J'onn, now in the form of a gargantuan green dragon, descended, his wings beating against the cool evening air.
The girl screamed and ran away.
Jimmy swallowed hard, his heart racing as the dragon's massive form turned slender like an Eastern Dragon to fit in the narrow space, before landing gracefully behind Michael,.
"Holy crap," he muttered, staring at the creature's gleaming scales, recalling his last encounter with the Martian Hellride.
"Come on," Michael said, jerking his head toward the dragon. "Let's go for a ride."
Jimmy hesitated for a split second, the last time he rode on a dragon, it had it's claws around his body.
Climbing aboard, he sat behind Michael, clinging tightly to the dragon's back as they lifted off, ascending high above the streets of Gotham.
The city stretched out beneath them, a maze of concrete, glass, and shadows.
For a few moments, neither spoke, both lost in their thoughts as the wind whipped around them.
"You really get the Rider back from the League?" Jimmy asked after a long silence.
Michael glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable. "Yeah, I did."
Jimmy nodded, relief washing over him. "Good. So, what's the plan? We takin' back the streets? Gonna finish what we started?"
Michael shook his head. "No. I told you, I'm leaving Gotham for good. The city's no longer my concern."
Jimmy's heart sank. "Leaving? Why?"
"It's not my fight anymore. But the Ghost Rider will stay."
Jimmy frowned. "What do you mean? How can the Rider stay if you're gone?"
Michael raised his hand, and a soft blue wisp of flame danced in his palm. The flame flickered gently in the cool night air, casting an eerie glow.
"Do you want to be a Ghost Rider, Jimmy?"
Jimmy stared at the flame, his mouth suddenly dry. "Me? A Ghost Rider? Is that… possible?"
Michael nodded. "I can share a small part of the spirit of vengeance with you. It won't be the full power, but it'll be enough—enough to give you the strength to carry on the mission. Hellfire, chains, the ability to turn regular vehicles into Hellrides—it'll all be yours."
For a long moment, Jimmy said nothing. He'd never imagined anything like this.
Becoming a Ghost Rider, even a fraction of one, was more than he could've dreamed. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it."
Michael's smile widened. "Good. Hold still."
With a flick of his wrist, the blue flame shot from Michael's hand, striking Jimmy square in the chest.
He gasped, clutching his heart as the fire burned into him. But the pain quickly subsided, replaced by an overwhelming sense of power.
Jimmy blinked, looking down at his hands. "I don't feel any different…"
"Give it a second," Michael said, his voice calm. "Think about your men, the ones who fell because of me."
The words struck like a hammer. Jimmy's mind flooded with images of his comrades, the ones who had died in the Ghost Rider's wrath.
A fierce desire for vengeance welled up inside him, and before he could stop it, the transformation took hold.
His skin blackened, cracking like charred wood, and yellow flames erupted from his skull. His clothes turned to ash, replaced by burning leather. His entire form shifted into a yellow-flamed Ghost Rider.
Michael hovered nearby, watching with a knowing expression. "How do you feel?"
Jimmy clenched his fists, the fire roaring around him. Part of him wanted to strike out at Michael, to make him pay for the lives he'd taken.
But the spirit of vengeance within him warned against it. If he tried to confront Michael, he'd be destroyed till not even atoms remained.
Instead, he turned toward Michael, his voice hollow and echoing. "GOOD. BUT I'M INCOMPLETE."
Michael chuckled softly. "I know what you need. You need a ride."
Jimmy followed Michael's gaze as it settled on a distant mansion, just over the hills.
Wayne Manor.
-Michael's P.O.V-
I floated above the newly reconstructed Wayne Manor, taking in the sprawling estate below, my Lantern form casting a faint glow in the night.
J'onn, coiled around my neck as a sleek green serpent, hissed softly. "Are you sure about this, Michael?"
I smirked, barely glancing at him. "Bruce owes me. I'm just here to collect."
Right on cue, an explosion tore through the stillness of the night.
Down below, the back gate of Wayne Manor blew apart, and a monstrous Batmobile, engulfed in hellfire, roared through the wreckage. Jimmy had his Hellride now.
My smirk widened as I watched Alfred rush out of the manor, shotgun in hand. "Don't worry, Alfred," I muttered. "Bruce has billions. He'll build another one."
I gave one last glance at the chaos below, before turning my gaze to the stars and flying up, only stopping in the void of space.
The Earth was a sphere below me.
I could feel the banishing spell tugging at me, a constant reminder that my time here was almost up.
But there was one last thing left to do, before I was forced to leave.
Far below, in the earth, there were two empty graves—my wife and daughter's.
I'd exhumed their remains and hidden them inside the Hope-Eater's interdimensional stomach.
I couldn't leave them behind, not in this world, not where they could be desecrated.
One day, I'll be strong enough to come back, not just to payback those who were chasing me away, but to bring Sarah and Emily back—body and soul.
"I swear it," I whispered as I felt the spell tighten its hold. "I'll return. Strong enough to break even the laws of life and death."
With that promise etched into my very soul, Dr.Fate's spell finally began to drag me away.
I disappeared. And reappeared in Hell.