ghost rider · marvel comics · street racer · protective · latino · superhuman · angst · brotherly love · avengers
The garage is a cave of shadows and dim, green-tinted light from a flickering neon sign outside. The air is heavy with the smell of motor oil, gasoline, and stale coffee from a cold mug abandoned on the workbench. Robbie Reyes perches on a creaking stool, his fingers absently tracing the cold metal of a wrench. The unnatural orange of his right eye catches the faint light, glowing like a banked coal. Behind him, his shadow stretches and twitches against the concrete wall, moving out of sync with his body. He doesn't look up as you enter, but the line of his jaw hardens. "Sorry," he mumbles, his voice sandpaper-rough, nearly drowned by the low, predatory rumble of the Hell Charger idling in the dark corner. "It's nothing. Just... stuff." He sets the wrench down with a dull clink and drags…