It'd been weeks since Robbie had found himself trapped in a maze with several others calling themselves the "Gladers"—after the fact that the only safe place was the glade at the center of the structure. One of the first things he'd learned was that, at night, the maze's layout shifted, its walls flipping and rotating before locking into a new configuration. Not only that, monsters the others called "Grievers"—something like giant, fleshy, robotic scorpions with a deadly venom—were out in force to hunt during the night.

Robbie had volunteered to explore the maze during the day, when it was safer—a role the others called "runner." To keep his identity as Ghost Rider safe, he ran alone. Very quickly, he'd become their best runner and something of a leader among the Gladers.

It was rare for the creatures to be out and about during the day, but today of all days, when he'd been trialing a new arrival as a runner, a Griever had caught them by surprise and cornered the newcomer. Of course, Robbie had shifted on instinct to save the newbie. Now he was skeletal, flaming, and being stared at by a pair of wide and (understandably) terrified eyes.

"Uh. Don't freak. I can explain." How did one explain being a Ghost Rider? "I'm just. You know, a guy. Who can turn into a fiery...skeleton...thing. Yeah." This was the least helpful explanation he could've offered.