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"My mama always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."
— Forrest Gump (Forrest Gump)
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<(Atem POV)>
"Wait, he's your brother?!" I asked, eyebrows raised, voice laced with disbelief. "Like... your actual brother?" I pressed, still trying to process it.
"It's... complicated." Michelle, the Queen of the Angels, let out a long, tired sigh. Her expression lacked the warmth you'd expect from someone reuniting with a sibling after millennia. "Yes, he was one of us. One of my brothers is an anchorite. In fact, he is the only still living anchorite in my family. But he was never close to anyone in our family, to anyone in the entirety of Heven, honestly. You see, Zarathos was... different. An idealist. Obsessed with the concept of purity of the soul, of rooting out sin, cleansing the world of corruption. He spent every waking moment chasing down sinners, trying to purify their sins and bring them back to the side of 'good' again."
"But that same obsession was what broke him," she continued, her voice colder now. "Where the rest of us became selfish or apathetic when we lost our empathy, he spiraled into something worse. Something broke in him. He wanted to purge the world of sin completely, and in doing so, he got swallowed up by the very darkness he was trying to erase. He fell and turned into a demon lord. And during the war between Heven and Asgard, Mephisto tricked him—enslaved him with his twisted machinations, made him a hunting dog on a leash. However, it seems he was still able somehow to claw back a degree of control over himself... Nevertheless, he's no longer as powerful as the mighty archangel he once was." She finished explaining.
"I see," I murmured. "That's... definitely something." The words slipped out without much thought, but my mind was already racing. Could I purify the Ghost Rider, too? Bring him back to what he used to be—an angel like the others I helped back in Heven? Maybe. Probably. But the question was, did I want to?
Honestly, Ghost Rider is one of the coolest characters in this universe. Not just power-wise, though, yeah, he's an absolute monster in a fight—but because he's willing to go places most heroes won't. He doesn't flinch when real evil shows up. He deals with it in his own brutal way.
If I had to choose, I'd rather help Johnny take full control of the Rider than strip the Spirit of Vengeance out of him entirely. Turning him back into some high-and-mighty angel version might actually be worse. And if Zarathos really is as justice-obsessed as Michelle made him sound, then maybe he's right where he wants to be. Or at least... that's what I'm going to keep telling myself. Because the last thing I want is to mess with one of my favorite superheroes and give him a "happy ending" even he himself didn't ask for it—and probably wouldn't even want.
"Anyway, his backstory doesn't change the mission. You've still got a job to finish and a demon army to wipe out," I said, voice steady, leaving no room for argument. "If you want to talk to him—do it, catch up on old times' ot whatever—go for it. He's still family, I get that. But if he's not interested, walk away. Let him keep doing what he does best— deal out judgment."
I gave her the nod. The kind of signal that said it was time. "Now go show Hell what Heven's army is made of. Make sure they don't even think about scheming against another realm for the next few thousand years."
"As you command, my Lord." She bowed as if my words had unlocked something buried deep within her. Then she turned sharply, raising her weapon high. "My loyal warriors! Today, we fight for Heven—to reclaim our pride—for the glory of our new Almighty Lord! Raise your blades and stand with me, sisters! Tear through every demon in sight, and let them tremble at the name of our Lord!" she proclaimed, her voice booming with fire before letting out a fierce battle cry and launching herself toward the oncoming demonic horde like a furious missile. Behind her, tens of thousands of angels surged forward, each one hungry to carve their own legend into the battlefield.
