The Hellcycle roared forward, wrapped in surging Hellfire like a falling star tearing through the night sky, leaving behind a blazing trail of destruction as it charged straight toward Marcus's headless body.
Marcus's body instinctively tried to evade, but the Ghost Rider was faster. With a snap of his burning chain, he looped it around Marcus's waist and yanked hard, binding them together in one violent motion.
The Hellcycle didn't hesitate — it crashed directly into Marcus's back.
The concentrated Hellfire gathered in its wheels erupted in a blinding explosion, forming a spiraling inferno that swallowed both combatants whole. For an instant, the rooftop blazed brighter than the sun.
The resulting shockwave shattered the entire skyscraper from top to bottom. Steel beams and concrete melted into blackened ash beneath the impossible heat. When the light finally dimmed, only the Ghost Rider, engulfed in unholy flame, remained standing. He straddled his roaring bike and leapt effortlessly to the rooftop of a nearby building.
Beneath the mountain of debris, Marcus's headless body was buried — crushed beneath tons of collapsed concrete and steel. It no longer moved.
That decoy had reached its limit.
Severed from its controlling brain for too long and drained from its duel with the Ghost Rider, it could no longer sustain itself. Its final act — to lure the Spirit of Vengeance into unleashing a devastating, Hellfire-consuming strike — was complete.
Now it was time for Marcus's true attack.
As the Ghost Rider turned back, a figure stepped from the drifting smoke — Marcus himself, alive and whole, clad in a bloodstained officer's uniform and wielding a newly-formed blade of living metal. His head was covered by the same metallic helmet that had once hidden his decoy's neck.
"You're tougher than I expected," the Ghost Rider rasped, assuming this was the same foe who had somehow survived his previous assault. He hadn't realized Marcus had already switched places, the perfect sleight of hand pulled off under the veil of smoke and flame.
Without the Penance Stare, the Ghost Rider was like a wolf without fangs — still dangerous, but no longer untouchable.
Now, the battle would finally be fought on equal ground.
Marcus's bio-metal blade flared to life, crimson flames of Bloodflame engulfing its edge. He swung it down hard, clashing against the Ghost Rider's fiery chain, and sparks of red and orange scattered across the rooftop. The battle began anew.
The Ghost Rider twisted his throttle, and Hellfire roared from the Hellcycle's exhaust like a volcanic eruption. Using the burst of power, he darted behind Marcus in a blink, his chain reshaping in midair — the molten links twisting together to form a massive war hammer.
He swung it downward with enough force to level a tank.
But Marcus was ready. He pivoted sharply, raising his sword to block the blow. The impact thundered like a cannon shot, flames and sparks bursting outward. Using the momentum, Marcus kicked backward, his foot slamming into the Hellcycle's wheel and jamming it mid-turn, stopping the demonic engine in its tracks.
The Ghost Rider dismounted with unnatural grace, unfazed by the loss of motion. His flaming skull tilted upward, jaws parting — and from within his mouth, a torrent of Hellfire erupted, a blazing wave of molten energy aimed directly at Marcus.
Marcus countered instantly, summoning the Bloodflame that coursed through his veins. Scarlet fire roared from his outstretched arm, colliding head-on with the Ghost Rider's inferno.
The resulting explosion split the air with a thunderous roar. A violent shockwave rippled outward, scattering molten debris and blasting both fighters apart.
The Ghost Rider landed hard, his Hellcycle crashing onto a nearby street in a heap of flame. Marcus, using the recoil, directed his fall and landed atop the ruined remains of his former decoy, buried under the rubble. Reaching into the scorched earth, he felt around for a moment — and pulled free the Adamantium katana, still glowing faintly from its last battle.
The Ghost Rider's molten war hammer reverted to its chain, which coiled loosely at his side. Both combatants stood ready once more — two forces of supernatural fury locked in a deadly stalemate.
Though only seconds had passed, both had spent enormous reserves of power. But it was clear which of the two had the upper hand.
The Ghost Rider's movements were slowing. His flames flickered, dimmer now than before. In contrast, Marcus was in peak condition — faster, sharper, more ferocious than when he had been remotely controlling the headless decoy.
It made sense. The Ghost Rider had been burning through his Hellfire since the fight began, while Marcus had been conserving his strength, watching, waiting — and now he struck at full power.
Just as the Ghost Rider prepared to strike again, three shadows descended from the sky — Iron Man armors, landing in perfect triangular formation around him.
Each carried a pair of high-voltage electro-whips, crackling with lethal arcs of electricity. The design was unmistakable — another creation of Whiplash, modified for Marcus's army.
The Ghost Rider turned his flaming gaze upon them. "You think machines can stop me?"
He unleashed the Penance Stare out of reflex — only to realize, too late, that it did nothing.
The suits were unmanned. Inside, there were no hearts, no souls, no sins to burn. Only cold, calculating AI.
Marcus had perfectly exploited the Ghost Rider's greatest weakness — his divine fire could not judge what had no soul.
The Rider's skull tilted forward. "Clever trick," he growled. "But I've destroyed machines before."
He yanked his chain taut, coating it once again in Hellfire. The weapon reshaped, splitting into hundreds of fiery blades that shot outward like molten shrapnel, raining down upon the Iron Man suits.
The explosion was deafening. The armors' titanium-gold plating melted and warped under the infernal heat, burning through their exteriors like paper.
But despite the damage, the suits continued to move. Without souls or nerves, they were unaffected by pain — relentless automatons that only knew their command: contain the target.
Six electrified whips lashed out in unison, wrapping around the Ghost Rider's arms, legs, throat, and waist. Electric arcs surged across his skeletal frame, crackling violently as his Hellfire sputtered.
Even the Hellcycle beneath him groaned under the current, smoke rising from its frame before it collapsed into ruin.
Yet the Ghost Rider refused to fall. With a roar that shook the street, he drew upon the last remnants of his infernal energy. His flames flared violently one final time — and he pulled.
Metal shrieked and bent. The Iron Man suits were dragged toward him as if caught in a vortex of divine wrath.
"Burn," he growled, and crushed them all in a single, explosive embrace. The impact shattered the machines into molten shards, scattering them across the battlefield.
But it was exactly what Marcus had planned.
As the Ghost Rider destroyed the decoy armors, Marcus had already appeared behind him — silent as a shadow, blade raised high.
The Adamantium katana, wreathed in lightning and bloodflame, came down in one clean, merciless strike, cleaving straight into the top of the Ghost Rider's flaming skull.