The screech of tearing metal echoed through the night as Mario ripped the crushed patrol car apart. The two unconscious officers inside were exposed to the open air. The driver had been lucky, if you could call it that. A single bullet to the forehead, death instant and painless. The passenger wasn't so fortunate, his face was covered in blood, his nose completely flattened from the impact with the dashboard.
The officer holding the handgun stared in silence as Mario dragged his colleagues from the wreckage. After a moment's hesitation, his survival instincts overrode his training. He holstered his weapon with shaking hands. He helped the officer with the mangled arm sit against a nearby wall, waiting for the ambulance that was probably still ten minutes out. In Gotham, emergency services learned not to rush into active crime scenes.
Mario pulled a healing potion from his inventory and shoved it directly into the "Voldemort-faced" officer's mouth, forcing him to swallow. The red liquid worked best when administered immediately after trauma, he'd learned that through plenty of trial and error, courtesy of Hydra volunteers and vampires.
"What did you just make him drink?"
The standing officer couldn't bring himself to stop this flaming skeleton monster, but he needed to know what was happening.
"Healing potion. Carefully brewed by yours truly."
Mario turned toward the other two injured officers, his footsteps leaving small scorch marks on the pavement that faded after a few seconds.
"I'm not here to hurt you guys. If I wanted you dead, you'd have been dead the moment you saw me."
The statement didn't exactly inspire confidence. If anything, both officers tensed up even more. He reached into his inventory again and produced two more healing potions, extending his skeletal hand toward them.
"Drink up. Trust me, if I wanted to poison you, I wouldn't need to go through this much trouble."
Behind him, violent coughing erupted. The passenger-seat officer, the one with the crushed face, had woken up. He sat upright with a confused expression, patting himself down. He remembered the pain. But now, aside from being covered in blood, he felt fine. The two hesitant officers watched their colleague stand up like nothing had happened. They swallowed hard, exchanged glances, then reached for the potions with trembling hands. Even if this burning skeleton was the devil himself, they were out of options.
"Thank you," one of them muttered.
Mario's skull somehow conveyed amusement despite having no facial muscles. "You're welcome. Now hurry up and drink. We've still got criminals to catch."
The two officers uncorked the bottles and downed the contents in one gulp. The effect was startling. The one with the fractured arm felt an invisible force wrap around the injury, manipulating the broken bone back into place. Within seconds, the fracture had completely healed. He lifted his arm, flexing his fingers. The bone was solid.
That's when they noticed the third officer, the one who'd just woken up, was drawing his weapon on Mario.
"Andy, stop!"
"Hey, calm down! This... uh... Mr. Skeleton saved our lives!"
Mario stood up with an amused chuckle. "It's Ghost Rider, not 'Mr. Skeleton.'"
He pointed at the motionless body of the driver, still slumped in the wreckage. "Come on. Bring your severely injured colleague and let's go after those criminals. I'll make them pay."
The real reason for hunting criminals was simple, he needed souls. More souls meant more bargaining power with Mephisto, and a demon who'd lived for millennia definitely had valuable treasures to trade.
And Gotham never ran short on wicked souls.
He mounted his motorcycle, the blue flames intensifying as the engine roared to life.
"Kenny, are you sure this thing saved us?"
The officer named Kenny, the one with the lightest injuries, had a complicated expression on his face. Eventually, he nodded.
"Let's go. Tonight's gonna be one hell of a ride. Just... just wish we could've done more for Larry."
Larry was the driver. They could all see he wasn't breathing anymore. The bullet hole in his forehead was impossible to miss.
"Hurry up and grab him. We're moving out."
As Mario spoke, two sidecars materialized on either side of his motorcycle. They looked like minecarts from Minecraft, except rendered in white bone with blue flame accents.
The three conscious officers exchanged uncertain glances, then lifted Larry's body and climbed aboard. An invisible force secured them in place as Mario twisted the throttle.
The motorcycle shot forward, leaving a trail of blue fire that dissipated harmlessly after a few seconds. The speed was insane, they had to be doing over 150 kilometers per hour through narrow Gotham streets.
---
Taking a shortcut through a dark alley, Mario pulled out his wand and theatrically proclaimed, "Your mission is not yet complete. Return, my follower."
In reality, he was simply activating the resurrection spell. But the dramatic presentation was important for maintaining his Ghost Rider persona.
A golden light descended upon Larry's corpse.
Thump.
Kenny, still holding Larry's body, thought he was imagining things. Then the bullet wound in Larry's forehead began to writhe. It slowly pushed itself out of the wound and dropped onto his lap.
"Holy shit!"
His shout immediately drew the attention of the other two officers.
"What's wrong? What happ—"
Before he could finish, Larry sat up on his own, clutching his forehead and muttering, "My head hurts like hell..."
No shit it hurts, you got shot in the fucking head!
All three turned to stare at Mario, who was still driving the motorcycle.
Mario had anticipated their reaction. "He was only severely injured."
We might be cops, but we're not stupid.
Before they could protest, he continued, "He has to be classified as severely injured. No matter who asks. Got it? I just arrived in Gotham tonight. This city is overflowing with wicked souls that need judgment. I need people to help me navigate the local scene, and you four are my choice. Of course, if you refuse, I won't force you."
Having police on his side would make many operations easier.
The three didn't hesitate. Someone who could bring a man back from a headshot, and punish criminals in the process, was not someone they would refuse.
He nodded in satisfaction. While the fourth officer was still groggy and confused, he said, "Explain it to him. I'm about to accelerate."
With that, he tilted the handlebars. The motorcycle defied gravity, riding straight up the side of a building as casually as if it were still on flat ground. Sirens wailed in the distance as they sped through the night.
Minutes later, Mario and his motorcycle dropped from the sky, landing precisely between the fleeing cargo truck and the pursuing police cars.
CRASH!
A chain wreathed in blue hellfire shot from his hand, whipping through the air. It struck the truck's cargo compartment and sliced clean through the vehicle, splitting it in half. Money erupted into the air, thousands of bills fluttering like confetti as the bisected truck crashed to the ground.
He stopped the motorcycle and dismounted, walking toward the wreckage.
"The time for judgment has come."
---
Inside the mangled truck, the surviving criminals had lost all ability to resist. One was unconscious, trapped under twisted metal. The others were injured, stunned, or both.
The pursuing police cars screeched to a halt. Officers piled out, weapons drawn, but hesitated when they saw their fallen colleagues following behind the flaming skeleton. Nobody noticed the bat symbol projected onto the clouds above.
"Andy, what do we do now?"
The officer who'd escaped his "Voldemort" nickname, Andy, drew his service weapon and shrugged. "What can we do?"
"Pray this Ghost Rider isn't the type who enjoys killing. Otherwise, we'll just be collecting bodies."
Kenny looked at Mario's blazing form and swallowed hard. "I don't think he was joking when he said 'judgment.'"
Mario's voice resonated through the night.
"Look into my eyes and count your sins. Your escape ends here."
Every head turned toward him. He'd already dragged one criminal from the wreckage, a man in his thirties with gang tattoos and a rap sheet probably longer than Mario's arm.
He held the man up with one hand, forcing him to meet his hollow eye sockets.
"You. Are. Guilty."
WHOOSH!
Blue flames erupted from the criminal's body. His scream was inhuman.
Mario tossed the burning corpse aside and reached into the truck for the next one.
That's when the lead officer finally found his voice.
"Don't move!"
The officer in charge, a man with captain's bars on his uniform, aimed his weapon at Mario with shaking hands. But before Mario could respond, the four rescued officers rushed over and whispered urgently in the captain's ear. The captain's face went pale. After a moment, he waved to the surrounding officers, signaling them to lower their weapons. Unless necessary, he didn't want to make an enemy of something that could split a truck in half with a chain.
Holstering his pistol, he approached Mario, followed by Kenny, Andy, and the others.
As they got closer, they watched Mario extend his flaming hand and scrape it along the truck's side. Like a plasma cutter, it instantly melted through the metal, creating an opening.
He reached inside and pulled out an unconscious criminal. The man was limp, barely breathing. Mario didn't care. He forced the man's eyes open.
"Receive judgment."
WHOOSH!
Blue flames erupted again, but this time, to Mario's surprise, the man didn't scream. If anything, he seemed to sleep more peacefully as the fire washed over him without causing harm.
Not guilty enough to die?
He had experimented with the Penance Stare before. It didn't judge based on the victim's moral standards, but on his own. Meaning that in his eyes, this particular criminal hadn't committed crimes deserving death.
Has my bottom line gotten this flexible? Bank robbery... well, if nobody died, it's honestly not that serious. No wonder.
He sighed and gently set the unconscious man on the ground, rotating his skull 180 degrees to look at the approaching officers.
"This one never killed anyone."
The officers were first startled by the unnatural head rotation, then looked at the unconscious thug. The blue flames had vanished, but his chest was still rising and falling.
The lead officer cleared his throat. "Hello. I'm Alex, captain of the Gotham City Police Department. Mr. Ghost Rider—"
Mario raised a hand to interrupt. "How can you assume my gender? What if my gender identity is an attack helicopter? That would be discrimination."
Alex: "..."
Looking at Mario's complete skeleton form, he had to admit the point was valid. Calling a burning skull "mister" really didn't make much sense.
Before he could respond, Mario continued, "Just kidding. You can call me Ghost Rider, Captain Alex. Nice name, by the way. Reminds me of a protagonist I used to know. If you have something to say, wait until I finish judging the rest of this crew."
His skull rotated back to face forward. Even though the officers had mentally prepared themselves, the movement still sent chills down their spines.
As Mario resumed dismantling the truck, Alex quickly stepped forward. "These people need to face justice under the law. You can't just execute them without due process."
Mario didn't stop working. In his supernatural vision, another criminal inside the truck had already died from his injuries. At this rate, the remaining three wouldn't last much longer.
Without turning around, he said, "Gotham's law has failed."
He reached out, lifted half the cargo compartment, revealing a criminal underneath whose body was mangled beyond recognition. he grabbed him, blue flames ignited instantly. This time, fortunately, the man screamed the moment the fire touched him.
Clearly, he'd killed people. Violently.
Alex frowned. He knew he couldn't stop this supernatural entity, but as a police officer, he had a duty to uphold the law's dignity.
Just as his hand moved toward his holstered weapon, a dark object whistled through the air.
Mario's hand snapped up, catching a bat-shaped projectile between his fingers. Holding the batarang, he looked toward a shadowy corner and called out, "You can come out now."
A figure emerged from the darkness. The Batman stood there, cape draped around his armored form, white eyes glowing from behind the cowl. His gaze was sharp, fixed directly on Mario.
"Who are you?"
The voice was electronically altered.
The batarang in Mario's hand suddenly glowed red-hot, then melted into liquid metal that dripped onto the pavement, hissing as it cooled. Batman's eyes widened fractionally behind the mask, that temperature far exceeded standard cutting tools.
"Batman," Mario said, his flaming skull somehow conveying satisfaction.
"All these years, your fear tactics haven't worked. Now I will judge every evil soul in this city."
Forcing down the chill that threatened to break his dramatic persona, he walked slowly toward the Dark Knight.
Batman didn't back down, meeting Mario's approach.
"Your idea of judgment, is it just killing?"
Mario stopped about three meters away.
"It's purification. I don't decide who lives. Their sins do."