Johnny Blaze was a stunt performer who made his living on motorcycles. As an amateur in the motorcycle world, he had pulled off countless unbelievable jumps and was worshipped like a god by many industry elites.
Johnny had gained wealth and status because of it. He left the amusement park, opened his own studio, and was often invited to perform elsewhere.
With fame came trouble. Countless riders challenged his records, hoping to use him as a stepping stone to rise to prominence.
In the end, they all struck a pose that spelled death when they landed, only highlighting how formidable he was.
The spectators were obsessed with daredevils who risked their lives to challenge human limits. On one hand, they admired him; on the other, they were curious—curious about the day his legend would finally end.
For instance, today. They had heard Johnny was going to jump over fifty cars, and they had all come to watch someone die.
Just as everyone was wondering where the cars were, Johnny rode his motorcycle into the arena, and the loudspeakers announced to the entire venue.
Today, he would not be jumping cars. He would be jumping helicopters!
Above the stadium, six UH-60 utility helicopters—the famed Black Hawk Helicopters—slowly descended toward the grass. Their rotors remained on, creating six deadly vortices.
One could imagine what would happen to Johnny if he failed the jump.
The audience became even more excited. Those fake fans frantically waved their popcorn around and splashed beer everywhere, causing disturbances in quite a few places.
Russell had no such concerns. The audience within twenty meters of him was exceptionally well-behaved. Every one of them sat expressionlessly, neither cheering nor taking pictures, calmly stuffing popcorn into their mouths one piece at a time in a way that was downright terrifying.