The Ghost Rider's blazing eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Marcus's motionless body. The hellfire-wreathed chain around Marcus's neck had clearly sliced clean through his throat — yet what stood before him was not a corpse, but a headless body, still upright and armed.
Even more unsettling, the metal helmet that had fallen moments ago was empty — nothing inside, no head, no blood, not even a trace of flesh. It was simply an empty shell.
As the Ghost Rider struggled to process what he was seeing, the headless figure suddenly raised its sword again. The blade glowed with electric light and burning bloodflame, striking down with relentless fury as though its wielder had never died at all.
He's fighting without a head? The Ghost Rider's hollow sockets flared brighter as realization struck. The movements were sharp, deliberate — there was no hesitation, no loss of balance. This wasn't instinct or reflex. Whoever this man was, he had planned this from the start.
But the Spirit of Vengeance was not one to retreat. He lashed out with his chain, forcing the headless Marcus back a few paces, then ignited his hellfire once more.
"Look into my eyes!" he thundered, the sockets of his skull blazing with divine wrath. Blue flames poured forth, engulfing Marcus's headless form completely.
Yet again — nothing happened.
Marcus's body charged through the inferno unscathed, driving its blood-red blade straight toward the Ghost Rider's chest.
"This is impossible!" the Ghost Rider roared. The Penance Stare had never failed — not once. Even the blind had fallen before it, for it was not vision that mattered, but the soul's confrontation with its own guilt. And this man — this murderer — had taken more lives than any he had ever faced.
There was no reason it shouldn't work. None.
Then came the flash of steel. The Adamantium katana pierced straight through his flaming skull, the blade emerging cleanly from the back of his head. For the first time in centuries, the Spirit of Vengeance faltered.
"How…" he rasped, his voice a distorted growl. "How can this be…?"
---
A few meters away, concealed in the fog, the real Marcus observed silently. His body was intact — dressed in a bloodstained U.S. Army officer's uniform — and his expression was calm, analytical.
The Ghost Rider's deduction had been correct. The "Marcus" he fought was never the original — only a decoy body, animated and controlled remotely.
Marcus's unique regeneration ability allowed severed limbs — even entire torsos — to remain active for a short period, retaining vitality so long as he willed it. He had used the same trick before, against Killian. And now, he was simply repeating it — only this time, he had refined it to perfection.
Through the thick fog, both combatants' flames — crimson bloodflame and orange hellfire — burned like twin lighthouses in the dark. Marcus needed only to observe their movement to perfectly guide his headless body from afar.
As for why the Penance Stare had failed? The answer was simple.
The technique only worked when its target met the Rider's gaze. Even the blind could fall victim because the power resonated through intent, not sight. But Marcus's decoy body had never once looked into the Rider's eyes.
The headless figure had been fighting the Ghost Rider with its back turned the entire time — controlled through Marcus's distant line of sight. Without that mutual gaze, the judgment could never connect.
It was a perfect counter.
While the Spirit of Vengeance relied on divine retribution, Marcus relied on deception and logic — a man of science manipulating a creature of myth.
And so, through trickery and nerve, he had turned the Ghost Rider's absolute weapon into nothing more than a harmless glare.
Now, the balance of power had shifted.
Marcus's headless body drove its blade deep into the Ghost Rider's skull, splitting it clean through the top. The sound of shattering bone echoed like cracking glass. For a moment, the infernal fire dimmed.
But it wasn't over.
From within the firestorm, the Ghost Rider's skeletal hand rose again — gripping the katana that impaled him. He pulled it free, the weapon dripping with molten energy, and roared as the Hellfire surged.
Flames flooded the air, engulfing his entire frame. The cracked skull began to knit itself together, bone reforming through divine power. In seconds, he stood whole once more — the wounds sealed, the fire blazing even brighter than before.
Hellfire restored him just as quickly as Marcus's regenerative power restored his body.
To defeat the Ghost Rider, it wasn't enough to strike him down once — or even a dozen times. His existence was bound to the inferno of Hell itself. He would continue to rise until that fire was extinguished completely.
Marcus narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. The Rider had no vital organs, no brain to destroy — only energy to exhaust.
This will have to be a battle of endurance.
---
The headless body reached down, retrieving the discarded helmet. It slammed the metal casing back over its neck stump, the armor fusing seamlessly with a hiss. Bloodflame erupted once more, surging across the body like liquid fire.
At the same time, the Ghost Rider raised his chain high. The links blazed to life, each one burning with molten orange light. The weapon whirled above his head in a fiery spiral — a storm of punishment ready to descend.
The two forces collided again, and the world trembled.
Hellfire clashed against Bloodflame, their colors mingling — orange and crimson, sin and vengeance intertwining in blinding brilliance. Neither yielded, the air around them superheated into shimmering waves.
Marcus's body pivoted, blade pressed tight along the chain, sliding up toward the Rider's arm in a swift, lethal counter.
The Ghost Rider blocked the strike with the end of his chain, twisting it to ensnare the blade. Metal clanged against infernal steel as the two weapons locked together, bound in a contest of sheer strength.
Marcus's proxy pulled hard, but the chain would not budge.
The Ghost Rider's hollow sockets burned with grim satisfaction.
Then, the sound of a motorcycle engine split the silence — deep, thunderous, and fast approaching.
From behind Marcus's body, a surge of fire and smoke erupted as the Hellcycle roared into view. Even without its rider, the infernal machine moved with a will of its own, driven by the same demonic force that fueled its master.
Flames streamed from its tires as it charged straight toward Marcus's back like a raging beast.
The Ghost Rider's voice thundered over the roar of the engine:
"Let's see you escape this!"