Johnny drained the glass in one long swallow, then looked at it like he was still thirsty.
Coulson wordlessly refilled it.
Johnny drank five glasses in all before the edge finally went out of his breathing.
"Mr. Blaze," Coulson said with a pleasant smile, "I've seen your act. I also rember your final performance pretty clearly."
He activated the projector beside the bed.
The image that flashed onto the wall was brutal. Johnny Blaze, leaping over a S.H.I.E.L.D. Black Hawk helicopter, failing the landing, then being shredded by the spinning blades while his motorcycle triggered a chain reaction of explosions below.
A clean death? Not even close.
There should have been nothing left of him.
And yet here he was, whole and breathing.
Once Johnny's identity had been confird, along with the fact that he had died in that wreck, the situation had gone from strange to urgent in a heartbeat.
"Yes," Johnny said quietly, staring at the version of himself on the screen. "I died."
"But our tests say you're fine," Coulson replied. "Completely fine. As healthy as any normal person."
He changed the projection.
This ti it showed the black-fla Ghost Rider tearing through Hell's Kitchen like a living disaster.
"And last night," Coulson continued, "you also did this."
Johnny watched the footage in silence. When it ended, he pressed a hand to his forehead.
"What do you want to know?"
His voice was flat, resigned.
"Everything," Coulson said, still smiling.
That answer had been easy to give. The hard part was making sure Johnny didn't suddenly lose control, transform again, and turn the room into a slaughterhouse. Outside the ward, S.H.I.E.L.D. had stationed heavy security just in case, though nobody inside really believed they could stop him if he decided to leave.
Johnny stared at the water in his hands for a mont, then spoke.
"God is dead."
Coulson's smile twitched.
Behind the one-way glass, Nick Fury's expression tightened as well.
Humanity still thought of gods as stories, myths, or ancient superstition. Thor had not yet descended to Earth. To most people, divinity remained sothing old books argued about and nothing more.
Then this man had just opened with, God is dead.
"After God died," Johnny said, "Hell stirred. Devils, demons, all of them. They ca sniffing after sinful souls. And once Heaven was gone, nobody was left to protect the world. That's why there haven't been any miracles in centuries."
Coulson blinked. "You're saying Hell is going to invade us."
"If you want the simple answer, yes."
Johnny's mouth twisted into sothing like a grim smile.
"But not just one Hell."
Coulson frowned. "What does that an?"
"There isn't only one Hell," Johnny said. "Just like Heaven lost God, Hell lost Satan. Now every devil, every demon lord, every thing with teeth and ambition wants that throne. They need sinful souls to grow strong enough to claim it."
Coulson was listening with the kind of caution that ca from trying very hard not to look insane.
Behind the glass, the analysts Fury had hired were working at full speed. Microexpressions, muscle tension, eye movent, cadence, body language, every twitch and pause was being dissected in real ti. These were the best specialists S.H.I.E.L.D. could buy, and their conclusion had already reached Fury and Coulson.
He was telling the truth.
Coulson leaned forward slightly. "And you, Mr. Blaze. What are you?"
Johnny looked at him for a long mont before answering.
"I'm the ssenger of the God of Destruction and Ruin," he said. "I kill the sinful. I fight demons and devils. And I protect the innocent."
That answer carried more conviction than anything else he had said.
And that was the terrifying part.
Johnny Blaze had been conditioned by the Black Hole Dinsion into a zealous believer in Drex Valen's cause. His mories were still his own, his worldview still intact, but sothing deeper had been rewritten. The faith was real.
"God of Destruction and Ruin?" Coulson repeated carefully. "That doesn't exactly sound like a benevolent deity."
Johnny gave him a cold look.
"In a world where the gods are dead, absent, or too indifferent to help, he's the only one still willing to protect people. The souls of the wicked are annihilated completely. The souls of the righteous go to his kingdom, where they live forever as his people."
Nick Fury did not believe a word of it.
Coulson wasn't much more certain.
If sinful souls made demons and devils stronger, then what was this so-called God of Destruction and Ruin supposed to be? Who could guarantee that he was not just another devil wearing a cleaner mask?
That was the sort of trick demons loved most.
Johnny set the empty glass down.
"Those who don't believe in him," he said, "will have their souls taken by Hell when they die. There's no Heaven left to stop it."
He didn't wait to see whether they believed him.
Johnny swung his legs off the bed and stood.
"Wait, Mr. Blaze," Coulson said quickly. "You can't leave here."
"Yes, I can."
Johnny looked at him with the sa dead calm as before.
"And you can't stop . If you want to try, there are plenty of people outside who can test that theory."
He pushed Coulson aside and opened the door.
No one stopped him.
Not because they could not have tried, but because nobody in the room had the nerve to be the first one to touch a man who had died, returned, and now claid to serve divine judgnt.
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Faith in the God of Destruction and Ruin?"
This had already beco a ss too large to bury.
S.H.I.E.L.D. could contain a lot of things, but this? A dead man walking, a supernatural crusade, and a public that would tear itself apart for a chance at immortality? No one was going to hide that forever.
And sure enough, not even half a day passed before the internet began screaming about the end of the world.
Then ca the new religion.
Sobody had seen opportunity and moved fast, using the information from Johnny Blaze's interrogation as a foundation. The teachings were thin, improvised, and deliberately vague. Nobody knew the true doctrines of the God of Destruction and Ruin. Nobody knew whether he was a savior or a monster. The new faith preached only what the world already feared.
The apocalypse was coming.
Hell was descending.
Believe, and you could live forever.
The whole thing was built from scraps Johnny had spilled during questioning, which made it obvious that sobody important was testing the waters, trying to see whether the story had power.
Only they had a problem.
No one knew what the God of Destruction and Ruin looked like.
They could not make a symbol for him.
They could not forge an idol.
And if Johnny Blaze had been right, then this was not just so spirit, demon, or new urban cult. This was the one true god.
Making the wrong image might be enough to anger him.
"Director," one of the agents reported, "Johnny Blaze left S.H.I.E.L.D. and headed back toward Hell's Kitchen. Do we intervene?"
Fury exhaled through his nose.
"No."
The answer ca instantly.
"Those idiots in Hell's Kitchen are not stupid enough to pick a fight with him."
And even if they were, what exactly was S.H.I.E.L.D. supposed to do?
Stop a divine ssenger?
Especially one who had been riddled with bullets, hit by rockets, and soaked in high explosives the night before without so much as a scratch?
No.
That sort of problem solved itself, or burned itself into the pavent.
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