Multiverse's Ghost Rider

As Jon watched the vehicle approach, he felt a sense of excitement wash over him. He reached out, his hand gently brushing against the rough scales of Igris's head.

"Feast well, my friend," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city.

With a powerful flap of his wings, Igris took to the sky, his massive form casting a shadow over the approaching convoy. The sight was enough to send a shiver down the spine of the most hardened criminals.

Boom! Boom!

The ensuing chaos was a symphony of destruction. Flames danced across the vehicles, their bright orange glow reflecting off the surrounding buildings. The sound of metal tearing and glass shattering echoed through the streets, punctuated by the terrified screams of the men caught in the onslaught.

As the last echoes of the explosions faded, Jon turned his attention to the Punisher. He clapped a hand on the man's shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of their shared victory. He gestured towards the bag, its contents a testament to their successful operation.

Jon reached into the bag, his fingers brushing against the crisp bills. He pulled out a few hundred dollars, tucking them into his pocket with a small smile. "Annie's birthday is coming up," he explained, his voice soft. "I want to get her something special."

The Punisher shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Take it all," he offered, pushing the bag towards Jon. "You've earned it."

Jon shook his head, his smile fading. "This is dirty money," he said, his tone serious. "The IRS would have a field day with this. And Annie... she'd be suspicious if I suddenly had this much cash."

He knew the power of the tax bureau, their reach far surpassing that of the FBI. A few hundred dollars would go unnoticed, but a sudden influx of unexplained wealth would raise red flags.

The Punisher nodded, understanding Jon's concerns. "I can hold onto it for you," he offered. "I know people who can wash it. And my place... it's safer than any bank. No one would dare to steal from me."

Jon considered the offer, then nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll leave it with you."

As he handed the bag back to the Punisher, Jon couldn't help but wonder how the man had handled such matters in the past. "What did you do with the loot when you were working solo?" he asked, curiosity piquing his interest.

The Punisher shrugged, a nonchalant grin on his face. "Most of it went towards weapons," he admitted. "The rest... I had it washed, used it for everyday expenses."

As they parted ways, Jon couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with the Punisher. They were two sides of the same coin, fighting for justice in a city that always needed defenders. But as he walked away, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. Would they continue to fight side by side, or would their paths diverge once more? Only time would tell.

***

Jon returned to the solitude of his bedroom, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The day's events had been a success, but there was still much to be done. Parker and Agatha were still at large, their whereabouts unknown. But Jon was patient. He knew that they would surface soon enough, lured out by the chaos he and the Punisher had caused.

There was, however, a part of him that hoped for a different outcome. Perhaps Parker would be frightened by the recent events and flee New York. That would certainly save Jon a lot of trouble. But he knew better than to rely on such hopes. He prepared himself for sleep, his mind already planning for the days ahead.

***

Meanwhile, in a lavishly decorated room, Parker Robbins sat on a plush sofa, his uniform crisp and clean. Across from him sat a man whose appearance was a stark contrast to the opulence of the room. Finn Cooley, a notorious gang boss and bomb expert, was a sight to behold. Half of his face was marred by burns, a gruesome reminder of his dangerous profession.

"Mr. Robbins," Cooley began, swirling the red wine in his glass. "I've expended considerable resources to acquire this item. I had no intention of parting with it, but your offer... it was too enticing to refuse. I am a businessman, after all."

With a wave of his hand, one of his men brought forth a box. Parker's eyes were drawn to it, curiosity piqued. "I understand, Cooley," he replied, his gaze never leaving the box. "I assure you, the payment will be as promised. But first, I need to verify the contents."

Cooley held up a hand, halting Parker's movements. "Before you do, Robbins, I need to know why you're willing to pay such a high price for this."

Parker shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. "Truth be told, Cooley, I'm just the middleman. I don't know what this item does. All I know is that it's connected to some obscure religions."

Cooley studied him for a moment, then withdrew his hand, allowing Parker to proceed. As Parker opened the box, a brilliant gem was revealed. Its dazzling light filled the room, casting an ethereal glow on their faces. Parker reached out, his fingers brushing against the gem. The light intensified, its radiance almost blinding.

Cooley raised his glass, his eyes never leaving Parker. "Is this what you were looking for, Robbins?"

Parker stared at the gem, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. "If I'm not mistaken," he murmured, "this is it."

Agatha had once told him that the true Crimson Gem would respond to his abilities, as they were both rooted in magic. As he felt the gem pulse under his touch, he knew with an eighty percent certainty that this was the real Crimson Gem.

"So, my payment?" Cooley's voice cut through the silence, his gaze fixed on Parker.

"Of course," Parker replied, his tone steady despite the tension in the room. "You'll have it."

Their conversation was interrupted by a deafening bang. The door to the room was kicked open, revealing a figure that sent a chill down Parker's spine. Wilson Fisk, better known as the Kingpin, strode into the room, his imposing figure filling the doorway. Behind him were his trusted lieutenants, Bullseye and the Executioner.

"I believe you have more pressing matters to attend to, Robbins," Kingpin drawled, his voice echoing in the room.

Parker rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the intruders. "Fisk, what are you doing here?" he demanded. "Where are my guards?"

Bullseye chuckled, a sinister grin on his face. "If you step outside, Robbins, you'll find your answer."

Parker's face paled at the implication. He turned his attention back to Kingpin, desperation creeping into his voice. "Fisk, you know the deal went south. But that wasn't my fault!"

Kingpin's response was calm, his tone icy. "You thought you could use me, Robbins. You thought you could pit me against what's called the Flaming Skeleton, and either way, you'd win. If my men took him down, you'd have one less problem. If he took them down, it would weaken me."

Cooley, who had been silent until now, stood up. "Gentlemen, I have no interest in your disputes," he interjected. "I'm here for business. Once I have my payment, I'll be on my way. You can settle your differences then."

Kingpin turned his gaze to Cooley, then back to Parker. "You know, Robbins, I should have done this a long time ago," he said, his voice filled with contempt. "Your scheming, your petty games... they sicken me. We've been at each other's throats for years, and for what? Because we can't unite, vigilantes like the Punisher and Daredevil continue to plague us. They're few, but we can't eliminate them."

He paused, his gaze hardening. "I've realized something, Robbins. New York doesn't need a second king. And I intend to be the only one."

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A/N: I know this work is still very new, but your opinions matter a lot to my progress, please write a review 🙏.

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