Max spent the next several days practicing with his new powers.
At first, he stayed on rooftops and abandoned buildings, far away from people. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally kill someone while learning how to move again.
Because that was the biggest problem.
Not strength.
Not fire.
Not the symbiote.
Speed.
His body was way faster than he was used to. Every time he tried to move normally, he overshot, jumped too far, landed too hard, or punched straight through whatever he was testing on.
It wasn't that his body was slow before.
It was that now… it wasn't human anymore.
After a lot of trial and error, Max managed to reshape his armored Ghost Rider form into something more familiar—a Spider-Man suit.
The suit was black, with faint glowing lines where hellfire moved beneath the surface like magma under cracked stone. The spider symbol on his chest looked slightly jagged, almost like it had been carved instead of printed.
It was the perfect balance.
The durability of hellfire-infused armor.
The flexibility and mobility of a Spider-Man suit.
Best of both worlds.
He also learned a few other things.
He could sense sinners.
Not criminals exactly—but people who had done terrible things. The Ghost Rider side of him reacted to them like a predator smelling blood. There was a hunger there, deep in his chest, urging him to hunt them down and burn their sins away.
Thankfully, it wasn't overwhelming.
Not yet.
Then there was Excalibur.
Since he absorbed it, he realized something important—he didn't absorb the entire legendary power of the sword, just the physical blade and its magical properties. In simple terms, he had about a sword's worth of holy metal inside his biomass.
That meant he couldn't cover his whole body with Excalibur metal…
But he could form claws.
When he extended his fingers, silver-white blades formed over them, glowing faintly with holy energy while hellfire burned around his armor.
Holy and Hell.
Light and Fire.
Symbiote and Spirit.
He was starting to realize just how ridiculous his power combination actually was.
One night, while resting in his apartment, the TV was running in the background when the news suddenly caught his attention.
"…reports are coming in of two Spider-Men seen moving across the city—"
Max looked up immediately.
Two Spider-Men.
"…Must be Miles," he muttered. "And he just found hobo Parker."
He leaned back in his chair, thinking.
"Maybe I should meet them," he said to himself. "They've got resources. Connections. If anyone can help me figure out what happened to Alice… it might be them."
But first—
He needed something else.
A ride.
It wasn't just a thought.
It was an urge.
A pull in his chest. A strange instinct telling him he needed a vehicle. A car. A motorcycle. Something.
Ghost Rider instinct.
"…Huh," Max muttered. "So that's a thing."
If he was going to get a ride though, he wasn't stealing some random person's car.
No.
He wanted something cool.
And if movies had taught him anything, villains and organized crime always had ridiculously expensive cars that usually got thrown at Spider-Man anyway.
"So really," Max said as he walked across a rooftop, "I'm basically recycling."
Crime had gone up across the city since Spider-Man died.
That part of the news was true.
Max saw robberies, assaults, break-ins—small stuff mostly. Nothing world-ending, just the kind of crime that grows when people think no one is watching anymore.
He ignored most of it.
It wasn't his job.
Not yet.
His first job was Alice.
Everything else came second.
Then—
He saw it.
A McLaren Artura.
Parked outside a high-end auto shop.
And a group of men trying to steal it.
Max crouched on a nearby rooftop and listened in.
"…Boss wants this one delivered tonight—" "…Kingpin's paying extra for this shipment—" "…Hurry up and get inside, grab the rest—"
Max's eyes narrowed.
Kingpin.
For some reason… hearing that name made something inside him burn hotter.
The Ghost Rider.
It didn't like Kingpin.
At all.
"…Yeah," Max muttered. "You guys picked the wrong car."
When the goons went inside the shop to steal more parts, Max dropped down silently beside the McLaren.
He placed a hand on the hood.
The car was beautiful. Sleek. Expensive. Powerful.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "You'll do."
Black biomass spread from his hand instantly, crawling across the car like living tar. Hellfire followed, glowing through the black surface as the metal twisted and reshaped itself.
The car changed.
Not completely—but enough.
It became darker. Sharper. More aggressive. The engine roared to life on its own, the sound deeper and almost animalistic.
Max's Spider suit formed over his body automatically as he stepped toward the driver's side.
The goons ran out of the shop at that moment.
"…Hey! What the—"
Max moved.
It was fast.
Too fast for them.
He punched one—too hard. The man flew across the parking lot and didn't get back up.
Another pulled a gun. Max shot a strand of burning biomass web, yanking him forward before driving a clawed fist into his chest.
A third tried to run.
A flaming chain wrapped around his leg and slammed him into the ground.
The fight lasted maybe ten seconds.
Most of them didn't survive.
Max stood there breathing slowly, staring at what he'd done.
"…I really need to learn how to pull my punches," he muttered.
Then the hunger hit.
Not for food.
For souls.
For sin.
He crouched beside one of the fallen men, the Ghost Rider instinct taking over for a moment. Black biomass moved on its own, consuming part of the body.
Max paused.
"…This is weird," he said.
He didn't taste anything.
Didn't feel anything.
But he could feel energy flowing into him.
Fuel.
Power.
"…Okay… that's disturbing," he muttered, standing up.
He got into the car.
The engine roared again, louder this time, like it was alive and excited.
Max focused for a moment and shifted back into his human form. The car immediately changed back too, looking like a normal McLaren again—but he could still feel it.
It wasn't normal anymore.
It was bonded to him.
His Ghost Rider vehicle.
"…Hell McLaren," Max said, nodding. "Yeah. I like that."
He started the engine and pulled out onto the street.
The city lights reflected across the windshield as he drove.
He had power.
He had a weapon.
He had a ride.
Now—
It was time to meet the other Spider-Men.
And maybe… finally start getting answers about Alice.