C247

Devil's Temperament?

Johnny Blaze, the future Ghost Rider, was taken aback—then confused. Had Anton seen something? Or was this just an offhand compliment?

Yet, in Anton's eyes, he saw appreciation.

Demonic temperament.

He was obviously praising him for his role.

"I heard the role of Satan was already cast—a top Hollywood actor with countless fans. If I take the part, what happens to him?"

Johnny pushed aside his thoughts and let out a hearty laugh. "Won't this cause problems for the crew?"

"It's fine."

Anton waved dismissively, his tone leaving no room for argument. "On this set, I'm the boss. What I say goes."

"I'll make the arrangements now."

Jim responded immediately.

Even though the original actor was a first-tier Hollywood star, Jim didn't even consider persuading Anton to change his mind. Compared to some so-called A-lister, Anton's word carried far more weight.

Besides, Jim suspected that once the actor heard Anton had personally vetoed his casting, he wouldn't even bother demanding compensation for breach of contract.

At Anton's current level of influence, nobody would.

"Wait."

Anton stopped Jim. "I'm not unreasonable. Tell the poor guy that, moving forward, he'll get priority casting in any DC film projects he fits."

"Understood."

Jim nodded. Now, he was certain—rather than asking for liquidated damages, the actor would probably thank Anton for the favor.

Once Jim left, Anton tossed a script to Johnny Blaze.

"Your scenes start shooting tomorrow. Memorize the script first. I've heard of you, Johnny—you should have plenty of experience on set. If you need anything, just ask Jim."

With that, Anton turned and walked back to the crew.

The appearance of Johnny Blaze had genuinely surprised him.

But thinking about it… Ghost Rider was a core part of Marvel, after all. The Fantastic Four had already shown up, so the arrival of a Ghost Rider wasn't exactly shocking.

Originally, Hell Detective was meant to deal with the Ancient One, but now… maybe Constantine could make an early appearance.

The only issue? Anton didn't know Johnny well enough to gauge where his story currently stood.

The key question—had he reunited with his first love, Roxanne?

If he had, then the plot was about to kick off.

Johnny Blaze watched Anton walk away, the script still clutched in his hands. He hesitated.

Anton's casual dismissal of a Hollywood A-lister—replacing him without a second thought—had left a deep impression.

More than that, Anton wasn't just some random industry powerhouse. As Batman's comrade-in-arms, an official member of the Justice League, and the director behind the Wonder Woman films that exposed the hidden supernatural world, he was a huge deal.

Even an offhand remark from Anton could make people think twice.

And to Johnny, that sentence hadn't sounded casual at all.

It felt deliberate.

"...Do I really look like a demon?"

Johnny fell into deep thought.

His past had left him wandering—lost.

Although he had gained some fame, Johnny Blaze still felt adrift, as if he had no real place in the world.

At the root of it all was the contract.

And… the mysterious old man.

"Demon..."

Johnny frowned and murmured, "Is he really a demon?"

The thought lingered in his mind. Unable to shake it off, he quickly said goodbye to Jim and returned to his home in Los Angeles. As he settled in, he opened the script, his expression serious.

Maybe—just maybe—he could find the answer within its pages.

The Next Day

During the filming of the Satan scene, Johnny Blaze's performance shocked everyone—except Anton.

"Hello, John."

"Your soul… I had to come personally."

"A cigarette suits you… You know, if you cut too deep, you'll sever the tendons. Your fingers won't work after that."

On set, Johnny sat in a chair, his gaze locked on the actor playing John Constantine, who had collapsed against the wall. 

Constantine's face was tense, his body trembling, but Johnny remained eerily composed. His expression seemed calm—yet underneath, there was an unmistakable thrill, a barely restrained madness.

Like a true demon, he exuded a chilling joy at the sight of a soul ripe for the taking.

The performance stunned the crew.

They had only learned yesterday that Anton had personally replaced the original Hollywood A-lister with Johnny. 

Most assumed Johnny had pulled some strings or begged Anton for the role. Many doubted his ability and expected him to be a weak substitute at best.

But now?

Johnny Blaze wasn't just good—he was perfect for the role.

He wasn't a refined, practiced actor like the Hollywood star he had replaced. He was something else—something more fitting.

Johnny's Satan felt disturbingly real.

Especially when he harvested a soul.

"Not bad."

As the scene wrapped, Anton clapped and laughed. "That was a great take. I told you, Johnny—you were made to play Satan."

"Thanks."

Johnny followed the crew to the dressing room to remove his makeup. Before he could sit down, his agent and longtime friend, Mark, burst in—grinning from ear to ear.

"Johnny! Since when did your acting get this good?"

Mark was practically bouncing with excitement. "I'm telling you—at this level, forget stunt riding. You could cross over into acting full-time! Hell, I'm seeing the next Oscar Best Actor right in front of me!"

"Phenomenal performance."

As the makeup artist worked, Mark kept chattering, his enthusiasm unstoppable.

"Listen to me, Johnny—let's make a movie. Seriously! You've already done everything possible with stunt riding, and there's no one left to challenge. Acting could be your new path!"

"Not bad."

The makeup artist nodded in agreement as he wiped away Johnny's stage makeup. "You really nailed that role. You could make it big in Hollywood."

He had been on set, after all. He had seen Johnny's performance up close—and it had left an impression.

But Johnny just shook his head.

"I'm not an actor. I just got lucky." He paused, then added, "I just… played the part like someone else would."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Played the devil like someone else?"

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "Who, exactly? What, you met a real demon or something?"

After a While

Johnny Blaze finished removing his makeup.

"You're not leaving?"

Mark looked at his old friend in surprise.

"You go ahead. I'll wait."

Johnny's eyes were fixed on Anton.

Seeing this, Mark suddenly understood.

"You finally figured it out, Johnny. That's right—you should thank Anton. If he hadn't given you the role of Satan, breaking into the film industry wouldn't have been easy for you…"

Johnny let out a quiet, amused laugh.

The set was still bustling, crew members moving non-stop. Anton sat in front of the camera, a megaphone in hand, his expression serious as he directed the production.

Johnny's gaze shifted to the actor performing in front of the camera.

The unfolding scene, paired with the script he had read the night before, stirred something deep inside him—something unsettling.

A nightmare he had been having for years.

Huh!

Snapping back to reality, Johnny turned to Anton.

Anton's eyes were calm, yet there was something behind them—a knowing look, almost amused. He gave Johnny a small nod before returning his attention to the crew.

He knows.

Johnny felt it in his gut.

Anton knew something.

So, he waited.

The entire day.

Finally, when the shoot wrapped late at night, Anton was free.

Johnny seized the moment, stepping forward to meet him.

The nearby crew members exchanged glances, smirking.

So that's how he landed the role of Satan.

Not just talent—he knows how to kiss ass, too.

Johnny ignored the looks. He didn't care.

His voice was unsteady—impatient, desperate, hopeful.

"Mr. Jameson, I need to ask you something."

Anton didn't hesitate.

"I know. Come with me."

Anton led Johnny to his room, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to him. Raising his own, he motioned for Johnny to speak.

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

Johnny hesitated for a moment before finally asking:

"When we met before, you said I was perfect to play Satan. That I had a demonic temperament…"

His grip tightened around the glass.

"Did you see something?"

Anton tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "See what, exactly?"

Johnny swallowed.

"Did you see that… I've signed a contract with the devil?"

The words felt heavy, yet saying them aloud also brought a strange sense of relief.

Gritting his teeth, he continued.

"When I was a teenager, I made a deal with a demon. I don't even know if it was real or not, but for years, I've had the same nightmare—over and over."

His voice lowered.

"I can't shake the feeling that… all of this was arranged by someone."

Anton's expression didn't change.

"Then let me tell you this—your instincts are right. Now… what do you think about that?"

Johnny opened his mouth—then closed it.

What did he think?

What could he think?

Shock?

No.

It wasn't shock.

Deep down, he had already accepted it.

He just needed confirmation.

Anton leaned back, studying him.

"Johnny, before I met you, I had some doubts about whether demons really existed in this world."

Anton spoke calmly. "But after seeing you, I no longer have any doubts."

"That means… you don't actually know much," Johnny Blaze exhaled, feeling a strange sense of relief.

"No, I know a lot."

Anton's tone was confident. "For example, I know the identity of the demon you made a deal with. And I know your current situation."

Johnny set his glass down and fixed Anton with an intense stare.

He knew Anton wasn't finished.

"That demon's name is Mephisto," Anton continued. "And you… you're the one he chose. People like you usually get a cool nickname."

He paused before saying, "Ghost Rider."

Johnny let out a dry laugh. "Ghost Rider? Sounds like the name of a superhero."

"In reality, it's a curse," Anton said flatly. "You'll gain incredible power, but you'll also become Mephisto's puppet—his strongest weapon. And the moment you signed that contract, your soul stopped belonging to you."

Johnny fell silent.

Anton didn't go into detail about the Ghost Rider's power—but he didn't need to.

Memories of his past flashed through Johnny's mind, everything he had experienced, every unexplainable nightmare, every feeling that something was wrong.

Everything Anton said lined up.

His soul was no longer his own.

Johnny clenched his fists. "What do I do?"

He looked straight at Anton, his voice steady. "How do I fight this? How do I break free from the devil?"

"You can't."

Anton shook his head. "You signed the contract. Your soul belongs to Mephisto. There's no escaping his grip. But… until the day you die, you're still you, Johnny Blaze."

Johnny stiffened, stunned into silence.

For a long time, he just sat there, lost.

Then—

"But."

Anton's voice cut through the haze, drawing Johnny's full attention again.

"What you need to understand is that until you actually become the Ghost Rider, you still have freedom. But once you transform… Mephisto will always be watching. He'll never stop—until he fully owns your soul."

Anton took a sip of his drink before adding, "Like John Constantine in the movie."

Johnny latched onto the name like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. "John Constantine… He's real, isn't he? Can I meet him?"

"Not yet." Anton shook his head, then suddenly changed the subject. "Tell me, do you have a girlfriend right now? Or at least a woman you're interested in?"

Johnny blinked. "No."

He frowned. "Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Anton didn't answer immediately. Instead, he just stared at Johnny with a serious expression.

A little too serious.

Something about it made the hairs on Johnny's arms stand up.

His scalp tingled.

And then—

"I don't like men!" Johnny blurted out.

His face was deadpan as he added, "Mr. Jameson, even if I were possessed by a demon, I still wouldn't want to be with you."

"Pfft—!"

Anton nearly spit out his drink.

"Shit, that's not what I meant!" He scowled, looking deeply offended. "I'm saying you're safe— for now. Until you meet the person you can't stop thinking about."

Johnny squinted. "What does that even mean?"

Anton smirked. "You'll understand when you meet her."

Anton waved a hand dismissively. "I can only say so much. If you know too much, it could affect reality."

"You still haven't told me—what should I do now?"

Johnny Blaze frowned, his voice tinged with frustration. "Even if I die, I don't want my soul to become a plaything for the devil."

"Here's what you do," Anton said. "When you meet someone you can't stop thinking about—day and night—call me. I'll do my best to find a way for you."

Johnny narrowed his eyes. "You can't just tell me outright?"

"No."

Anton shrugged. "Relax, you're safe for now. Even if Mephisto wants your soul, he still has to abide by the terms of your contract. And don't forget—this world is more complicated than you think. Even a demon can't just show up and wreak havoc whenever he pleases."

Johnny exhaled sharply. "Alright."

Still filled with unease, he left the set.

Anton watched him go, his thoughts drifting to the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One—who protected Earth from mystical threats.

Looking at the world as it was now, even someone as powerful as ancient one couldn't completely control everything. 

If she could, Mephisto's avatar wouldn't have been able to descend from the Hell Dimension and bind Johnny Blaze in a contract, creating the Ghost Rider.

Of course, there could be other hidden factors at play.

For now, the best Anton could hope for was that the Constantine project would be released soon—and that Mephisto wouldn't make his move for at least another month.

That way, Anton could ensure Constantine's clone was ready, giving Johnny Blaze some much-needed backup.

But if Mephisto tried to seize control over Johnny before Constantine was in play, Anton would have no choice but to show Johnny a different path—one that led straight to Kamar-Taj and the Ancient One.

That said, if he had any other options, Anton would rather not get involved with ancient one at all.

…

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