Reborn as a Ghost Rider

In the hallway, Johnny saw his younger brother and sister. Barb was carrying a soccer ball as if it were her most prized trophy, while Danny had a professional camera slung around his neck, guarding it like his most precious treasure. They were arguing with the intensity of two authors drafting memoirs about their endless debates.

"All superheroes are idiots," Barb declared, adjusting the strap of her school backpack with the seriousness of an adult. "They wear masks like they're hiding from the tax office and leave chaos in their wake."

"And I'm telling you superheroes make the world better!" Danny retorted indignantly, trailing behind her while showing her something on his smartphone. His camera bounced slightly with each step. "Look at this! The Torch put out a fire in Brooklyn yesterday! There's even a photo. That's way cooler than boring firefighters!"

"Ha! Your Torch is just a show-off," Barb scoffed, shaking her head. Her pigtails swayed in sync. "He came to pose for the journalists. They're all the same. Real heroes work in the police force, like our dad."

"Johnny!" Danny rushed over to him, as if reaching out to a lifeline, his eyes pleading. "Explain to her that superheroes are awesome!"

Johnny nearly burst out laughing at their serious faces. In moments like this, he felt like a mix of an older brother, a judge, and a peacekeeper.

"Sorry, kid, but I'm siding with Barb," he said, patting Danny on the shoulder. "There's no one cooler than our dad. And superheroes… well, maybe they just pretend to be cool, but we've got our real heroes."

Barb grinned triumphantly and started juggling the soccer ball on one foot, skillfully balancing, proving her title as the captain of the school soccer team.

"Now that's an argument!" she said, continuing her impromptu practice session in the middle of the dining area. "Johnny knows what he's talking about. All superheroes are dumb!"

"How dare you say that?!" Danny gasped, frowning as he shook his fist at her in mock anger. It was more funny than intimidating.

Danny sighed dramatically but didn't give up. He raised his camera, focused on Barb, and snapped a photo.

"Perfect. You'll have a chance to defend your opinion when this photo hits the school paper," he smirked. "I'll caption it: 'Barbara Blaze Challenges the Hulk.'"

Barb froze for a second, squinted, and playfully threatened him with the soccer ball.

"You wouldn't dare!"

Johnny chuckled and shook his head. They were always like this—loud and lively, like two uncontainable sparks. But as the older brother, it was his duty to try.

"Danny, you need to learn to stand up for your interests without dragging others into it."

"Okay." Danny sighed and deleted the photo.

"And Barb, don't mock your brother for his passions," Johnny said, draping an arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him like a guilty kitten. "First of all, you're older and should be wiser."

"By a whole year," she rolled her eyes. "Wow, so much wisdom."

"And second, you want to work in the police force?"

"Of course! I'll be a cop, just like Dad!" she declared, raising a fist in the air. Her expression was serious, like she was leading a demonstration.

"Well, if you want to work with people, you'll have to accept them as they are."

"Even if they're dorks who dream about wearing underwear on their heads?"

"Hey!" Danny protested. "I'm going to be a superhero, and my costume will be the coolest!"

"So, underwear will go over your pants, not on your head?" Barb snickered into hand.

"What were we just talking about?" Johnny tried to give her a stern look, but it was hard. She was too cute when she made faces like that.

"Fine, I get it," she said, raising her hands in surrender. "I won't look down on people for their interests anymore."

"Did you come up with that on your own, or did someone help?"

"Uh… I read it on a poster at school," she admitted honestly, blushing slightly.

Taking a deep breath, Barb looked at Danny and said:

"Alright, alright, your superheroes aren't total idiots," she said in a conciliatory tone, trying to appear serious and wise. "I just prefer real heroes. Our dad is way cooler than Hawkeye."

At that moment, mom appeared, having overheard Barb and Danny's argument. Of course, she couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire with a sly smile.

"Just don't argue too loudly, or the superheroes might crash through the window to put your minds at ease."

The kids laughed. Mom always knew how to tease them with humor.

"Alright, shake pinkies and make up," Johnny said, looking at the pair of mischief-makers.

They rolled their eyes but, grumbling, followed their respected brother's instructions. The kids promised not to argue… at least until the next debate.

With his duty as the elder sibling fulfilled, Johnny felt like a true hero. He couldn't imagine his life without these little oddballs.

At the family table, he glanced at his younger siblings again and couldn't help but smile.

Danny—twelve years old, always energetic, obsessed with anyone wearing a mask and saving the world, and never missing a chance to tell everyone about it. Mischievous like mom but a spitting image of their dad. Always joking, lifting spirits, and dreaming big.

Barb—thirteen, a complete opposite. Serious, brave, and determined, her courage and resolve made it clear that she would one day become the cop she always dreamed of being. Diligent and responsible, like a little detective from a movie. Her sarcasm felt like a natural extension of the family style.

Despite their differences, they were like two sides of the same coin. Johnny was grateful to be their older brother and to have them by his side.

The father came down to the dining room. Tall and strong, he never skipped his daily gym sessions. His warm smile lit up his face, instantly making the morning better.

"Good morning!" he said, giving Johnny a friendly pat on the shoulder before kissing his wife on the cheek.

The father removed his police captain's jacket and carefully hung it on a chair. The embroidered insignias and shining medals glinted in the light. On the wall hung a framed newspaper article with the headline: "Motorcycle Cop Saves UN Chairman!" Below it was his photo in uniform. It served as a trophy, reminding everyone that each member of the Blaze family was capable of greatness.

Johnny's heart swelled with pride, knowing his father had fulfilled his dream of becoming famous in New York—not through circus stunts, but still by riding a motorcycle.

"How's our police hero doing this morning?" asked his mother as she took her seat at the table.

"Fantastic, but this hero is starving," the father joked with a wink. "And he's still glad he decided to leave the circus ten years ago. Less risk, more time with you all."

His mother smiled warmly. Johnny could see how proud she was of him. They all were. Leaving a dangerous career in the circus to join the police was a bold move.

It all happened naturally. Ten years ago, Naomi told her husband that their kids needed a healthy, living father, so he had to end his stuntman career.

Barton agreed but decided to end his career with a bang—jumping a motorcycle over 15 burning school buses. The stunt earned him a Guinness World Record and a spot on TV, where the New York Police Commissioner saw him.

The commissioner offered Barton a place in the motorcycle unit, hoping his fame would boost the police force's image. After the UN incident, Barton was promoted to captain and put in charge of the motorcycle squad.

"When's be breakfast ready?" complained Barb, holding up her empty plate. "Am I supposed to starve to death?"

"If I intended to kill you, young lady, I would choose a quicker, more effective method—like poison," came a prim, feminine voice from the kitchen.

That voice belonged to another member of the Blaze household, young girl Melissa. A distant relative who had lost everything after moving to the U.S., she had been taken in by the Blazes. In gratitude, she had taken on the role of housekeeper, a role she performed excellently—though her manners left something to be desired.

The clock struck precisely 6:30. Breakfast time.

Melissa entered the dining room with her usual impeccable timing, carrying a large tray of aromatic, exquisitely plated dishes. She wore a maid's uniform—a black dress with a white apron—and a thin leather choker around her neck. Two red hair clips, resembling horns, adorned her chestnut locks, while her amber eyes sparkled with mild amusement.

"Breakfast is served, esteemed Blazes," she announced, placing the dishes on the table with the ceremony of presenting a royal feast. "Please don't mind that a delicate young girl like myself is once again working like a mule."

"Melissa, did anyone ever tell you that your whining is part of our morning entertainment?" asked mom with a raised brow.

"I strive for perfection," Melissa countered, gracefully adjusting her apron. "Besides, who else but I would ensure that Captain Barton doesn't choke on a croissant? Your police hero may catch criminals, but he's clearly losing the battle against dietary norms."

"If this croissant was made by you, I'm more likely to enjoy it than be harmed," the father quipped, pouring himself coffee.

"At least someone recognizes my talent. Thank you, Captain," Melissa said with a smirk before turning to Johnny. "As for Mr. Jonathan, I'm still waiting for acknowledgment. Is my lamb pie inferior to your garage experiments?"

"If your the pie start my engines first try, I'll consider it," Johnny replied, taking a sip of his freshly brewed coffee.

"That will cost extra," she shot back with a sarcastic grin.

"By the way, Melissa, there's another task for you," Mom said, pouring herself some orange juice. "Water the plants in Johnny's room; he'll forget again otherwise."

"As you wish, Mistress Naomi," Melissa replied with mock seriousness, heading back to the kitchen with a proud gait. "That will only steal three more minutes of my life. I just nothing else to do between polishing the silverware and dusting the wine bottles."

Melissa's disincentive humor was something the family had grown accustomed to.

"Why do you need our camera, Danny?" Barton asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't your smartphone enough?"

"Come on, Dad!" Danny groaned, as if explaining the obvious. "Smartphones are for hipsters taking selfies and grandmas snapping grocery prices. Real art needs a professional camera."

"And what are you planning to photograph?" father asked, genuinely curious.

"Perverts who wear underwear on their heads," Barb teased, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Hey, don't laugh!" Danny protested, crossing his arms. "Superheroes are cool. The Daily Bugle pays big money for good shots. One day, my photo will be on the front page."

Mom clapped her hands as if Danny had just invented a cure for all diseases.

"How wonderful! Maybe we'll have a famous photographer in the family?"

"That's a great goal," the father said approvingly, his eyes gleaming with pride again. "Just be careful with that camera at school. Kids can get jealous."

"Then they'll have to deal with me!" Barb declared, rolling a soccer ball under the table with her feet. "I can hit a target from a hundred meters away!"

"Now, that's something I'll support," Barton said seriously, then added with a smile, "but let's stick to scoring goals into the gates, not the heads of classmates."

"That depends on them," she replied with a sly grin. "No one messes with my family."

The adults nodded in approval, and Johnny gave her a pat on the shoulder. He'd fight for his family too. So would everyone at that table—well, maybe except Melissa.

"You're both amazing," Naomi said to the younger ones. "Whatever path life takes you on—football, the police, or photography—you'll succeed as long as you stick together."

"And me?" Melissa asked slyly, approaching the table with a cup of tea. "Where's my acknowledgment for feeding these prodigies?"

"You're amazing for putting up with us," Naomi replied playfully, handing her a plate with a slice of strawberry cake. "Now sit and join us. Breakfast isn't the same without you."

"Where would you all be without me?" Melissa replied sarcastically but still sat down, carefully smoothing her apron. "You can't even have breakfast without me."

Melissa's haughty, sarcastic demeanor had become a family staple. Without her, the Blaze household just didn't feel complete.

Something brushed against Johnny's leg. Ah yes, the Blazes had one more member—a black cat named Coal with bright eyes. Naomi often joked that Coal wasn't a house cat but a witch's familiar.

Coal nudged Johnny's leg, reminding him that breakfast hadn't been quite enough.

"Hungry?" Johnny broke off a piece of meat and offered it to the cat.

Coal purred contentedly.

"Don't overfeed him," Naomi warned. "Fat cats make easy prey for witches!"

Everyone at the table burst into laughter, even the usually prim Melissa hiding her smile behind a coffee cup.

After breakfast, Johnny climbed onto his motorcycle. Pausing at the driveway, he glanced back at the house. Big, white, two-story, with a spacious garage and a neatly trimmed lawn where an American flag proudly waved. This wasn't just a house. It was a dream home—the embodiment of stability and happiness, a rarity in life.

His younger siblings, without whom he couldn't imagine life, waved goodbye, wishing him luck. Melissa, holding the cat, silently joined them. He saw his parents: his mom's gentle smile as she told him to have a good day at school, and his father adding that good grades wouldn't hurt.

The Cross of Vengeance on Johnny's chest burned with hellfire, a reminder that the carefree times were over. He was the Ghost Rider now.