“We're all Hitler inside. We're all Christ inside. I'm not keen on the idea, but it's true, isn't it? We've all got a little bit of the devil in us.”― Jason Jack Miller, The Devil and Preston Black

The following text is translated from Russian. Document recorded January 12th, 1945.

It comes in the night; A ball of fire streaking across the sky of the Russian and German borders, constantly displaying a powerful force to be reckoned with as German fortifications were reduced to ashes. One day the talking made it’s way to us; One of the Night Witches got close enough to identify it as a Tupolev SB that had been downed a year earlier. The twin engines and tail always burning, leaving smoke trails behind it.

She said that a single person could be seen piloting the bomber, but the fire inside the cockpit made it hard to tell, she didn’t understand how anyone could survive that. It was unnatural. It only brought more questions such as how the bombs were lined up and how the gun fired, shredding any and all opposition with precision the likes we had never seen.

People started to question if it was the Human Torch that the Americans had been talking heavily about, but when questioned they denied the allegations. Informing us that he been fighting in the Western Front, alongside the… Fish man and their Captain America. Nobody had a clue what was going on anymore.

Eventually we started to hear from refugees coming to the country from China and other areas of Asia. About a demon armed with one of the Japanese swords, who decimated an entire Japanese encampment, appearing from the caves they'd driven several survivors towards. They said the Devil himself seemed to be watching. We treated it as superstition.

There had also been rumours from Africa of a French Tank with fiery treads laying waste to the Germans, rolling over their wiring and destroying the enemy with ease. Those stopped coming after a while, and nobody knew what had happened. Perhaps the demons had lost their lives, perhaps they merely moved on.

Of course, there were other stories that predated this from across the world. Talks of a man after the American Civil war who brutally murdered a group of Bandits. And of the trenches and skies of World War I, talks of a cavalryman who slew the Germans and Italians where they stood. When those rumours died out new ones started to reach us of a simple triplane that burned the enemy to ash in the air.

Nobody knew if the Blazing Bomber was truly real or a figment. But what we did know, is that the They ruled the skies of the Eastern Front, only matched in destructive power by the Night Witches themselves. Now the war reaches the end, and Berlin lies in ruin. I’m glad it never turned against us.

"Mark Todd." The voice says. A man is sat on a rock in the cave beside the reporter. Mark looks over at him, tearing his eyes from the jungle beyond the cave entrance in front of him. He takes a closer look at the man, dressed in a red bomber jacket. His hair was at an odd angle, curling behind his head in a similar style to devil horns. "I can give you the power to save yourself. Mark blinked at him, and then glanced back to the cave entrance. He could hear the Japanese now as they moved closer. He knew what would happen if they found him. He didn't want to deal with that. "What does it entail?"

"You become a spirit of Vengeance." The figure replied, staring him down. He was intimidating, and he felt supernatural.

"I'll do it, if it means saving these people."

The man smiled, and Mark’s world was consumed by fire. And so were the Japanese soldiers. A tall skeleton with a blazing skull approached them, whose clothes fit him as though it was covered by flesh. The skeleton screeched and darted towards them, tearing a Shin guntō away from the closest soldier and cutting them open with quick precision.

The tip of the sword started to glow red, as the entire blade threatened to burst into fire. Not that it would have prevented The Ghost Rider from devastating all those who stood against him. The nights passed by, as Mark battled with himself and the Demon for control of his body.

“What did you do to me.” He asked quietly one night. Though not present at the time, the devil still answered, walking out of the shadows of the jungle as though he was formed from it.

“I made you the host to the Spirit of Vengeance, something sorely needed in the world right now.” He explained., watching as Mark started to transform again for another night. “Remember my name, Rider. It is Mephisto.”

Mephisto stepped back into the shadows, leaving the Rider to make his way through a Japanese encampment. Armed with only the sword and a Luger P08, The spirit tore the camp and soldiers apart, shooting hellfire and dismembering anyone who stood in front of him.

Ultimately he came across a high ranking general in the invasion of China. He made an attempt to run but the Rider was on him, pinning him to the ground with the blade. The general cried, the Rider screeched.

Mark gripped the general tightly by his neck and lifted him from the ground. The general stared at the fires in eyes of the Rider. Then the General blinked first. The windows of his soul were seared by his punishment, and he was soon torn from this Mortal Coil by the servants of the dark lord.