The nights in the Bronx were not as noisy as Manhattan's. Most streets were relatively quiet, and pedestrians hurried along as though walking fast enough could rid them of the dangers lurking in the dark.
That only made one group seem especially reckless. When their motorcycle engines roared, they sounded like thunder exploding on the horizon. As they tore down the street, they seemed to rip open even the biting autumn wind.
The man at the front wore a heavy black jacket. When he turned his head, flames flickered in his eyes. He parked his motorcycle against a lamppost, leaned against the seat, and lit a cigarette.
The second to arrive was a white-haired woman. Her entire body was snowy white like ice crystals, including her pupils and lips. Within several yards of her, the cold felt like standing in an ice cellar.
Next came an exceptionally muscular man, whose arms were far thicker than normal, his hands covered in crocodile-like scales. The youth behind him looked as though he were walking on stilts, with absurdly long legs that brought him close to three meters tall when standing straight.
"It's been a long time since we've all gathered like this," the tall man said. "Johnny, what the hell have you been busy with lately?"
At some point, Johnny had already transformed into Ghost Rider, though the skull's jaws could still move around the cigarette clenched between them.
He exhaled a stream of smoke. "Working, obviously. I found another part-time job at the zoo recently, mostly hauling animal feed and stuff."
"That suits you. At least you won't see sinful souls in animals," the white-haired woman said with a smile.
"All right, time to get down to business," Johnny said. "I'm going to say hello to Nail Boss. Wait here for