Issue #9 by Travis Hiltz
January 2020
January 2020
"The Seven"
The Door to Heaven and Hell - Part Two
Previously: In order to avert the apocalypse, the four current Ghost Riders took on the mantles of the four horsemen, this resulted in them sealing off the realms of heaven and Hell from the rest of the multi-verse. *
(No, you aren’t missing an issue. It happened in between my run and the previous one-Trav)
This has upset the balance of power in the supernatural community and deeply annoyed many mystical and cosmic beings.
The Four Riders were recently targeted by the supernatural team Salem’s Seven.
After several attacks, the Riders realized the Seven had been using a spell to extract minute amounts of spiritual energy from them.
Worried they could use this energy to open the door to the higher realms, the four Ghost Riders traveled to the pocket dimension that contained the sealed door.
Only to discover that was the whole point of the attacks, and Salem’s Seven were able to follow them, and that the Seven were no longer being controlled by the warlock, Nicholas Scratch, but rather the villain, Maelstrom…!
Now…
The field seemed to stretch to the horizon. Idyllic and well tended. In any other situation it would be the ideal spot for a picnic.
Now, it was host to not only two opposing teams of supernatural individuals, but a host of cosmic beings, Celestials, the embodiment of Chaos and Order and others, curious as to how events were about to play out.
On one side was the four current holders of the title Ghost Rider: Johnny Blaze, Dan Ketch, Robbie Reyes and Hamilton Slade and their various modes of transportation.
On the other side was Salem’s Seven.
While the seven supernaturally powered beings all took up fighting stances, Nicholas Scratch, the warlock, believed to be their leader, lay in a ragged, shivering heap on the grass, bound in heavy chains.
Scratch’s power and authority had been usurped by the cosmic being, Maelstrom.
Maelstrom, almost inhumanly tall and thin, floated above the combatants.
He flexed his hands and twin blasts of other-dimensional energy struck the ground, forcing the two teams to step back from each other.
“Now, now,” He chided. “This is no way to behave. Ladies, Gentlemen and…well, there’s a couple of you I’m not too sure about…you’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you here… “
“Gonna reveal who the murderer is, Jessica Fletcher?” Johnny Blaze asked, crossing his arms as his skull flared with hellfire.
Maelstrom swooped down.
He floated in the air, sitting Indian-style, then leaned in until his sharp, hawkish nose was inches from Johnny’s bony face.
“ I guess that makes you spokesman for your side,” He said. “We have some matters that need sorting out.”
“Like, who the hell are you?” Dan Ketch snapped, angrily.
“Settle down,” Hamilton Slade whispered, putting a hand on the other Rider’s leather-clad shoulder. “Let John take the lead.”
“The surly one has a point,” Maelstrom nodded. “I’ve generally stayed away from the supernatural community. Good manners dictate an introduction...my story is a sad tale, born of the forbidden love of an Inhuman and a Deviant, I grew up in exile, with only my thirst for knowledge to fend off the despair…”
“Seriously…?” Robbie Reyes muttered.
“Kid’s got a point,” Johnny Blaze said. “Could we skip your sad childhood?”
The tall being scowled, and then shrugged in reply.
“Fine. My thirst for knowledge was not appreciated by many and I found myself sentenced to further exile, from the earthly dimension…I think the Avengers were involved…or maybe, it was the Fantastic Four…?”
He paused, floating in mid-air, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Great,” Dan muttered. “The bad guy has ADD.”
“Lost, in desolate corners of the multi-verse, I wandered,” Maelstrom continued, unabashedly. “Until, the very fabric of reality trembled and through the tiniest crack in the barriers between the realms, a speck of light appeared that could lead me home! As I followed this fragile thread, I found myself in the dark realms and stumbled across poor Nicholas here.”
He floated to the ground, planting a foot on the back of the ailing warlock’s neck.
“He was, honestly, in a pathetic state, and so an easy source of energy to sustain me. Must say, I have tasted some rather varied and exotic forms of energy, but I can see why you lot get so excited over this…magic, heady stuff…!”
He held out a palm, revealing a pulsing bead of crimson energy.
“Much to my surprise,” Maelstrom continued. “Taking on Scratch lead to my being gifted with mastery of his little menagerie…”
Salem’s Seven bristled at the mistreatment of Scratch as well as being referred to as a menagerie.
“Okay,” Johnny snapped, impatiently. “Have you got a point?”
“He doesn’t,” Robbie said, with quiet intensity. “He’s just messing with things, cause he can.”
There was a strange moment, it grew intensely quiet and everyone, even Salem’s Seven, turned to look at the youngest rider.
“Come on,” Robbie eventually exclaimed. “Look at him! He doesn’t have a plan.”
“Maybe you aren’t the smart one,” Maelstrom muttered to Johnny, before shooting up into the air.
“Lucky guess!” He said, pointing at Robbie.
“Are you kidding me?” Johnny snapped. “You are willing to tear reality apart, just… because?”
“When you say it like that, it makes me sound shallow,” Maelstrom said, absently stroking his chin with a long finger. “I have depths…layers…I live by absorbing energy…any and all kinds! I’ll admit, I have an addictive personality and I cannot resist a new energy source…and the tiny taste I’ve gotten tells me there is a rare feast on the other side of that portal…that and there’s just something about a closed door, I’m like a cat that way…. so, if you’ll just…”
“No,” Johnny said, with grim finality. “Not playing this game. You need to pack up your toys and bother somebody else.”
“Interesting,” Maelstrom purred. “And if I don’t…?”
“The door stays closed,” Johnny said, sternly. “ The power on the other side is not a snack or a battery, it is a tidal wave. So, save the banter.”
“Ooooh, aren’t you scary and defiant!” Maelstrom smirked, floating about lazily.
“Here’s the deal,” Johnny continued. “Walk away. Go bother the Avengers. This is literally the hill we four have chosen to die on.”
“It’s not a hill…?” Robbie muttered, looking at the vast field.
“Don’t step on his moment,” Dan muttered back.
“So, to get what I want I’ll have to kill you…?” Maelstrom mused. “And that’s supposed to convince me NOT to…?”
“It’s to the death,” Johnny said, shifting his gaze from the hovering villain and focusing on Salem’s Seven.
“That’s the price of the door. Who’s willing to pay it?”
The seven supernatural beings’ expressions told him, they had serious qualms about paying that price, or serving their current master, but were all unable or unwilling to be the first to voice their objections.
“Really?” Maelstrom scoffed, sinking until his toes almost touched the grassy ground. “No point appealing to them. The Seven don’t get a vote. MY team is not a democracy!”
He smirked, disdainfully. Crossed his thin arms and raised a challenging eyebrow.
“Enough of this $#%&!,” Dan Ketch growled, running, leaping and punching Maelstrom full in the face.
“Is that the plan?” Robbie asked, confused.
“New plan!” Johnny said blasting hellfire at Salem’s Seven. “We let Dan beat the crap out of Maelstrom. We take care of the Seven!”
He generated a wall of fire to hold Salem’s Seven back, giving his friends a second to brace themselves.
Hamilton gave a whistle and then leapt on to his white horse. Without seeming to have moved, there was a six-gun in his hand.
“We really have a plan…?” Robbie asked, uneasily, his metallic skull blazing with white flame.
Hamilton glanced over at Johnny.
“He tell you what you need to know?”
“The talkative ones always do,” Johnny replied. “Here we go!”
He pulled his sawed-off shotgun from the holster on his back and fired, as Salem’s Seven broke through the wall of flame.
Hydron and Vakume blasted it, one with water, and the other with a blast of wind, while the others raced through.
The shotgun’s blast of hellfire caught Thornn in the chest, sending him flailing backwards, his namesake red projectiles shooting off uncontrollably, striking both ally and enemy.
Hamilton fired, shooting several of them out of the air. He then spotted Vertigo, standing statue–still, at the back of the crowd.
A single ghost bullet phased through her forehead, just as her eyes began to glow sliver and blue. A nimbus of energy encased her head and she clutched at her temples.
The African-American mystic swayed and gasped, collapsing in a heap.
“Never feels good to have to shoot a woman,” Hamilton muttered.
Further introspection was halted, by the lithe, Gazelle leaping at him, while the snake-woman Reptilla wrapped herself around his horse.
Johnny punched Vakume, while the armored being was preoccupied with putting out the flames. He then swung and firing his shotgun one-handed, caught the snake-woman in the back.
Robbie ran, his fists alight with white flame, drove his shoulder into the stunned Vakume, who then stumbled across the fallen Bruticus. The beast man struck out in blind rage, sending his teammate flying.
The wall of fire extinguished, Hydron used his water cannon hand to blast at the Riders.
Johnny was caught full in the face by a torrent of water. He stumbled back, struggling to reignite his flame.
Gazelle landed on his shoulders and immediately tightened her thighs, attempting to choke Ghost Rider.
Robbie Reyes, blocked from helping his friend by Thornn and Hydron firing at him, was knocked to the ground.
Curled up in a ball, pinned by a geyser blast of water, while mini-explosions struck all around him, Robbie closed his eyes and concentrated, the fiery halo around his skull burning bright.
Of its own accord, the black Dodger roared to life, tires screeching, as it raced to join its’ driver.
The sentient car sideswiped Reptilla, allowing the ghostly horse and rider to break free. It then swung a passenger side door open, swatting Gazelle and knocking her loose from Johnny’s shoulders.
The Dodger suddenly slammed to a halt, shielding Robbie from attack. The car shook and revved as water blasts and explosive thorns buffeted it.
Just as Robbie and Johnny Blaze were getting unsteadily to their feet, Bruticus barreled through the crowd, bringing both fists down savagely on the Dodger’s hood.
The beast man then grabbed hold of the car and with a primal growl of rage, flung it away.
“Did you just hit my car, you big *&^%# furry?” Robbie snapped, lunging at the man-monster.
He caught Bruticus with an one/two punch combo to the stomach and then swung, having to practically leap up to reach the monster’s jaw with an upper cut.
Bruticus stumbled backwards, the angry teen, continuing to pummel him.
“Kid’s got potential,” Hamilton muttered, firing as he leapt down from his horse.
Dan Ketch unmercifully continued to punch Maelstrom. The tall deviant struggled to fight back, and then panicking attempted to escape, causing the two to fly above the combatants erratically.
With each blow, Ghost Rider’s flames burned hotter and brighter, leaving scorch marks as well as bruises.
“I don’t hear any smart quips!” He raged, repeatedly driving his fist into the villains’ face. “Where’s your bad guy stand up routine? Come on! Monologue me, you pathetic sack of shit!”
Flailing about, struggling desperately to get loose, Maelstrom blasted at his attacker.
Dan’s leathers smoked and shredded, until the skeleton beneath was clearly visible.
Other-dimensional energies scorched bone and cracked ribs, but Dan Ketch clung even tighter and continued to strike him.
“You want the gate!” Dan raged.” This is what it costs you!! It is a #%&! Rock round your neck every minute, of every day, and there’s always going to be some jerk wanting it! Come on! How bad do you want it?”
“That boy has issues,” Hamilton muttered, while firing at the remaining few standing members of Salem’s Seven.
“One problem at a time,” Johnny replied, over his shoulder, as he used the butt of his shotgun as a club, cracking Hydron across his scaly green jaw.
Hamilton shrugged and caught Gazelle in mid-leap with a ghost bullet.
He glanced from Dan and Maelstrom, over to where Robbie was duking it out with Bruticus.
“Keep them busy for a minute, I got an idea.” Slade said, before lunging away and going intangible, in order to run through his attackers.
He sent his ghostly steed to help Johnny Blaze fight off the remaining members of the Seven, while he raced around the crowd with a specific goal in mind.
Hamilton Slade continued to fire his six shooters as he ran, until he reached the prone and bound form of Nicholas Scratch.
“How bout you and me have a little chat?” He asked the withered mystic, as he knelt down.
Scratch struggled to focus his rheumy eyes on the ghostly gunslinger.
“You aren’t looking so good, Nick. Rather then beating each other senseless, why don’t we work together against the jackass that made this happen?”
Nicholas Scratch nodded his head, weakly and groaned.
“This might sting a bit,” Hamilton told him, shooting the metal gag off Scratch’s mouth.
“Who…are…?” Scratch rasped weakly.
“We can chat all you want if we survive this mess,” Slade interrupted. “Can you take back control of the Seven from Maelstrom?”
There was a blast of crimson energy and Hamilton flinched as the battered body of Dan Ketch went soaring past, quickly followed by an enraged Maelstrom, his fists crackling with energy.
“You want to be free of him or not?” The cowboy snapped.
“Yesssss…free,” Scratch nodded. The effort of speaking set off a coughing fit, as he struggled against his chains.
“How? You need to tell me how? I don’t have time to guess.”
The warlock struggled to push his shaking, talon of a hand free.
Hamilton took hold of Scratch’s wrist and turned his hand. Scrawled on his palm were blood red runes that pulsed with faint energy.
“I…am…at the end,” Scratch muttered, as Hamilton helped him sit up. “I have…treated the Seven…like tools. I have been a poor caretaker. You…your brothers…guide them…find them…place in this world….”
Another coughing fit caused blood and spittle to trickle down his chin. Scratch shivered and winced.
Hamilton peered, with troubled thoughts, at the dying warlock, then over at his fellow Riders, as well as the Seven.
“Damnit,” He muttered, holstering his six guns and reaching toward his boot.
Johnny Blaze fired his shotgun, knocking down Thornn, and then twirled it to strike Reptilla in her scaly, elongagated solar plexus.
He struggled to catch his breath, feeling the hellfire around his skull and firearm flickering weakly.
Hydron and Vakume, neither looking any steadier then Johnny felt, faced him, stepping forward, ready to fight until they dropped or won the battle.
“Damn, why do these things always have to end with somebody dying…?” He muttered, through gritted teeth.
“Just once…like to talk it over…!”
Just as the duo prepared to attack, Hamilton phased through Johnny.
“Stop!” He shouted.
He held up two items, one was a ghostly white Bowie knife; the other was the severed hand of Nicholas Scratch.
“I summon the seven!” The ghostly cowboy intoned.
There was a flash of light and all Seven seemed to teleport from where they had been, either fallen or in Bruticus’ case in mid- battle and appear, standing at attention before Hamilton Slade.
“Hold it!” He said, sternly. “Fighting’s done. You lot are free to walk away.”
“Free…?” Thornn scoffed. “We have just traded ‘masters’!”
“Yeah, yeah, you have,” Hamilton nodded, before tossing the hand to an understandably startled Vertigo.
“What? What is this?” She asked, stunned.
“You look the most reasonable of the bunch,” The older cowboy told her. “You hold the leash…or decide who gets to be in charge.”
“Or stop being every two bit mystics’ lackey,” Johnny Blaze suggested. “Find out how much fun it is being responsible for your own actions.”
“What the hell is going on?” Robbie said, joining his teammates. “Did we win?”
“Is my brother still getting the crap beat out of him?” Johnny asked, with a grim smile. “Break time’s over.”
The three Riders raced to where Dan Ketch was still locked in combat with Maelstrom.
The angriest Ghost Rider was still on his feet, but just barely.
His leathers were down to scraps, leaving a flaming skeleton in a tattered loincloth and a single boot.
His ribcage was a mass of cracks and his left arm hung limply at his side.
Dan’s flames flickered weakly, sometimes going nearly out and then stubbornly reigniting.
The grass all around him was burnt, the dirt gouged up.
Maelstrom hovered, facing Ghost Rider, his attire torn and stained, his body crackling with magenta energy.
One eye swollen shut and his right hand was attempting to manipulate other-dimensional energies with three broken fingers.
“You broken…little…hnnn…smear of mud…!” Maelstrom growled with mixed anger and pain. “I…I…will grind you into…”
“I am so tired of listening to him,” Hamilton sighed, quick drawing both six guns and shooting the tall megalomaniac through the knees.
“Yeah, I like that plan,” Johnny Blaze said, drawing his shotgun. “A lot.”
Maelstrom was falling to the ground, clutching at his knees, when the shotgun blast caught him in the back.
“Hey, wait!” Robbie called. “My turn!”
He snapped his fingers and the Dodge charger came roaring over, hitting Maelstrom full on.
The villain bounced, then fell to the ground like a sack of wet sand, and lay huddled there, his body sparking crimson and black energy.
“I…uh… will rrrrrip this dimension asunder,” He spat, struggling to rise up. “I will punch a… a hole through the realms and send you and this patch of reality falling through the farthest recesses…the deepest abyss of the multi-verse, knowing your world was left a scorched, bleeding cinder…!”
“Can he do that…?” Robbie asked, losing some of his confidence.
“Likely,” Hamilton shrugged. “Less we stop him.”
“Any idea how we do that?” Johnny asked, as the villain lurched to his feet and raised his hands, flashing red lightening skywards.
“I do,” Vertigo said, appearing amongst the Riders. Her eyes blazed blue and silver and she raised a hand towards Maelstrom. “Here, foul creature!”
Maelstrom turned, making eye contact with the African-American mystic. Her power to twist and tilt balance and perception hit him full on, as he was attempting to strike at both the Ghost Riders and the fragile walls of the dimension that contained the door.
He lurched, drunkenly, his body wreathed in crimson lightening.
“Um…should we do something?” Robbie asked, stepping back.
“Yeah…yeah, we should.” Dan growled, stepping unsteadily forward, his fist aflame.
“Bro, take it easy,” Johnny said. “I got this.”
He took his shotgun and blasted Maelstrom in the mid-section.
The crimson energy around the villain flared and it appeared as though he went into a dramatic bow, practically folding in half. He was then sucked, like water down a drain, into the swirl of energy, which then flared brightly and winked out.
“Did you know that was going to happen?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah…sorta, maybe” Johnny shrugged. He holstered his shotgun, moving quickly to his brother’s side. “Whoa, slow down. You look like crap.”
“I’m…uh…I’m…fine, just…little tired.” The swaying, battered skeleton replied.
“No kidding,” Johnny said, dryly, getting an arm around Dan and keeping him from collapsing to the ground. “How bout we find you a place to sit down, before you fall down….”
Both men returned to their human forms, Dan looked every bit as bruised, battered and exhausted as he had as Ghost Rider.
Johnny glanced over at Robbie and the Black Dodger rolled over to the two men. Johnny helped his brother into the back seat.
“Take it easy,” He said. “We’ll finish this up and then get you home.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Dan muttered, as he bonelessly slumped. “You’re okay…bro.”
“He gonna be alright?” Robbie asked, as Johnny closed the car door.
“Yes and no,” Johnny replied, tiredly. “Deal with it later. One crisis at a time.”
The trio of Riders turned back to face Salem’s Seven.
The supernatural beings were standing in a rough circle around the withered, lifeless husk that had been Nicholas Scratch.
“He was a poor master,” Hydron hissed.
“Selfish and harsh,” Thornn grumbled.
“What will we do without him…?” Gazelle asked, plaintively.
“Please, tell me we did not just get saddled with seven strays?” Hamilton asked.
“No,” Johnny Blaze said, shaking his head. “No. We got enough problems. I know a couple guys, so we can find someone to keep an eye of them but, just…no.”
“Can we go home now?” Robbie asked, leaning against his car. “I am %$#@ tired…!”
“Language,” Slade scolded. “I put up with that from Dan…!”
“Slade, can you see about getting them out of here?” Johnny asked, nodding towards the Seven. “I’ll be back in a sec and then we can get going.”
Receiving a nod, Johnny walked over to the door.
It was a massive, wooden object. Looking like there should be a medieval castle attached to it.
Johnny sighed and placed his hand flat against the black, weathered wood. He could feel a vibration through it, as though the very wood itself was humming and trembling.
Or something on the other side was pushing, hoping and struggling to force the door open.
He then looked at their colossal, ethereal audience.
“You get your money’s worth…?” He asked, bitterly. “At some point, one of you might actually have to do your own dirty work.”
He sighed, shook his head and turned back to the other Riders.
Being a Ghost Rider had always been a burden, at times a punishment, but it had been a small, personal burden.
Since the four Ghost Riders had joined together, sealed the door between the realms of Heaven and Hell, taken on stewardship of the door, that burden had gotten bigger…heavier. They’d all thought they could bear the burden, but Dan’s anger told a different story. Maybe the rest of them weren’t holding up any better. They were just being quieter about it.
“One more thing to worry about,” Johnny muttered at the door. “I hope you’re worth it.”
He turned; taking in the expectant expressions of the other Riders and the newly freed Salem’s Seven.
“Let’s go home.” He said.
(No, you aren’t missing an issue. It happened in between my run and the previous one-Trav)
This has upset the balance of power in the supernatural community and deeply annoyed many mystical and cosmic beings.
The Four Riders were recently targeted by the supernatural team Salem’s Seven.
After several attacks, the Riders realized the Seven had been using a spell to extract minute amounts of spiritual energy from them.
Worried they could use this energy to open the door to the higher realms, the four Ghost Riders traveled to the pocket dimension that contained the sealed door.
Only to discover that was the whole point of the attacks, and Salem’s Seven were able to follow them, and that the Seven were no longer being controlled by the warlock, Nicholas Scratch, but rather the villain, Maelstrom…!
Now…
The field seemed to stretch to the horizon. Idyllic and well tended. In any other situation it would be the ideal spot for a picnic.
Now, it was host to not only two opposing teams of supernatural individuals, but a host of cosmic beings, Celestials, the embodiment of Chaos and Order and others, curious as to how events were about to play out.
On one side was the four current holders of the title Ghost Rider: Johnny Blaze, Dan Ketch, Robbie Reyes and Hamilton Slade and their various modes of transportation.
On the other side was Salem’s Seven.
While the seven supernaturally powered beings all took up fighting stances, Nicholas Scratch, the warlock, believed to be their leader, lay in a ragged, shivering heap on the grass, bound in heavy chains.
Scratch’s power and authority had been usurped by the cosmic being, Maelstrom.
Maelstrom, almost inhumanly tall and thin, floated above the combatants.
He flexed his hands and twin blasts of other-dimensional energy struck the ground, forcing the two teams to step back from each other.
“Now, now,” He chided. “This is no way to behave. Ladies, Gentlemen and…well, there’s a couple of you I’m not too sure about…you’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you here… “
“Gonna reveal who the murderer is, Jessica Fletcher?” Johnny Blaze asked, crossing his arms as his skull flared with hellfire.
Maelstrom swooped down.
He floated in the air, sitting Indian-style, then leaned in until his sharp, hawkish nose was inches from Johnny’s bony face.
“ I guess that makes you spokesman for your side,” He said. “We have some matters that need sorting out.”
“Like, who the hell are you?” Dan Ketch snapped, angrily.
“Settle down,” Hamilton Slade whispered, putting a hand on the other Rider’s leather-clad shoulder. “Let John take the lead.”
“The surly one has a point,” Maelstrom nodded. “I’ve generally stayed away from the supernatural community. Good manners dictate an introduction...my story is a sad tale, born of the forbidden love of an Inhuman and a Deviant, I grew up in exile, with only my thirst for knowledge to fend off the despair…”
“Seriously…?” Robbie Reyes muttered.
“Kid’s got a point,” Johnny Blaze said. “Could we skip your sad childhood?”
The tall being scowled, and then shrugged in reply.
“Fine. My thirst for knowledge was not appreciated by many and I found myself sentenced to further exile, from the earthly dimension…I think the Avengers were involved…or maybe, it was the Fantastic Four…?”
He paused, floating in mid-air, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Great,” Dan muttered. “The bad guy has ADD.”
“Lost, in desolate corners of the multi-verse, I wandered,” Maelstrom continued, unabashedly. “Until, the very fabric of reality trembled and through the tiniest crack in the barriers between the realms, a speck of light appeared that could lead me home! As I followed this fragile thread, I found myself in the dark realms and stumbled across poor Nicholas here.”
He floated to the ground, planting a foot on the back of the ailing warlock’s neck.
“He was, honestly, in a pathetic state, and so an easy source of energy to sustain me. Must say, I have tasted some rather varied and exotic forms of energy, but I can see why you lot get so excited over this…magic, heady stuff…!”
He held out a palm, revealing a pulsing bead of crimson energy.
“Much to my surprise,” Maelstrom continued. “Taking on Scratch lead to my being gifted with mastery of his little menagerie…”
Salem’s Seven bristled at the mistreatment of Scratch as well as being referred to as a menagerie.
“Okay,” Johnny snapped, impatiently. “Have you got a point?”
“He doesn’t,” Robbie said, with quiet intensity. “He’s just messing with things, cause he can.”
There was a strange moment, it grew intensely quiet and everyone, even Salem’s Seven, turned to look at the youngest rider.
“Come on,” Robbie eventually exclaimed. “Look at him! He doesn’t have a plan.”
“Maybe you aren’t the smart one,” Maelstrom muttered to Johnny, before shooting up into the air.
“Lucky guess!” He said, pointing at Robbie.
“Are you kidding me?” Johnny snapped. “You are willing to tear reality apart, just… because?”
“When you say it like that, it makes me sound shallow,” Maelstrom said, absently stroking his chin with a long finger. “I have depths…layers…I live by absorbing energy…any and all kinds! I’ll admit, I have an addictive personality and I cannot resist a new energy source…and the tiny taste I’ve gotten tells me there is a rare feast on the other side of that portal…that and there’s just something about a closed door, I’m like a cat that way…. so, if you’ll just…”
“No,” Johnny said, with grim finality. “Not playing this game. You need to pack up your toys and bother somebody else.”
“Interesting,” Maelstrom purred. “And if I don’t…?”
“The door stays closed,” Johnny said, sternly. “ The power on the other side is not a snack or a battery, it is a tidal wave. So, save the banter.”
“Ooooh, aren’t you scary and defiant!” Maelstrom smirked, floating about lazily.
“Here’s the deal,” Johnny continued. “Walk away. Go bother the Avengers. This is literally the hill we four have chosen to die on.”
“It’s not a hill…?” Robbie muttered, looking at the vast field.
“Don’t step on his moment,” Dan muttered back.
“So, to get what I want I’ll have to kill you…?” Maelstrom mused. “And that’s supposed to convince me NOT to…?”
“It’s to the death,” Johnny said, shifting his gaze from the hovering villain and focusing on Salem’s Seven.
“That’s the price of the door. Who’s willing to pay it?”
The seven supernatural beings’ expressions told him, they had serious qualms about paying that price, or serving their current master, but were all unable or unwilling to be the first to voice their objections.
“Really?” Maelstrom scoffed, sinking until his toes almost touched the grassy ground. “No point appealing to them. The Seven don’t get a vote. MY team is not a democracy!”
He smirked, disdainfully. Crossed his thin arms and raised a challenging eyebrow.
“Enough of this $#%&!,” Dan Ketch growled, running, leaping and punching Maelstrom full in the face.
“Is that the plan?” Robbie asked, confused.
“New plan!” Johnny said blasting hellfire at Salem’s Seven. “We let Dan beat the crap out of Maelstrom. We take care of the Seven!”
He generated a wall of fire to hold Salem’s Seven back, giving his friends a second to brace themselves.
Hamilton gave a whistle and then leapt on to his white horse. Without seeming to have moved, there was a six-gun in his hand.
“We really have a plan…?” Robbie asked, uneasily, his metallic skull blazing with white flame.
Hamilton glanced over at Johnny.
“He tell you what you need to know?”
“The talkative ones always do,” Johnny replied. “Here we go!”
He pulled his sawed-off shotgun from the holster on his back and fired, as Salem’s Seven broke through the wall of flame.
Hydron and Vakume blasted it, one with water, and the other with a blast of wind, while the others raced through.
The shotgun’s blast of hellfire caught Thornn in the chest, sending him flailing backwards, his namesake red projectiles shooting off uncontrollably, striking both ally and enemy.
Hamilton fired, shooting several of them out of the air. He then spotted Vertigo, standing statue–still, at the back of the crowd.
A single ghost bullet phased through her forehead, just as her eyes began to glow sliver and blue. A nimbus of energy encased her head and she clutched at her temples.
The African-American mystic swayed and gasped, collapsing in a heap.
“Never feels good to have to shoot a woman,” Hamilton muttered.
Further introspection was halted, by the lithe, Gazelle leaping at him, while the snake-woman Reptilla wrapped herself around his horse.
Johnny punched Vakume, while the armored being was preoccupied with putting out the flames. He then swung and firing his shotgun one-handed, caught the snake-woman in the back.
Robbie ran, his fists alight with white flame, drove his shoulder into the stunned Vakume, who then stumbled across the fallen Bruticus. The beast man struck out in blind rage, sending his teammate flying.
The wall of fire extinguished, Hydron used his water cannon hand to blast at the Riders.
Johnny was caught full in the face by a torrent of water. He stumbled back, struggling to reignite his flame.
Gazelle landed on his shoulders and immediately tightened her thighs, attempting to choke Ghost Rider.
Robbie Reyes, blocked from helping his friend by Thornn and Hydron firing at him, was knocked to the ground.
Curled up in a ball, pinned by a geyser blast of water, while mini-explosions struck all around him, Robbie closed his eyes and concentrated, the fiery halo around his skull burning bright.
Of its own accord, the black Dodger roared to life, tires screeching, as it raced to join its’ driver.
The sentient car sideswiped Reptilla, allowing the ghostly horse and rider to break free. It then swung a passenger side door open, swatting Gazelle and knocking her loose from Johnny’s shoulders.
The Dodger suddenly slammed to a halt, shielding Robbie from attack. The car shook and revved as water blasts and explosive thorns buffeted it.
Just as Robbie and Johnny Blaze were getting unsteadily to their feet, Bruticus barreled through the crowd, bringing both fists down savagely on the Dodger’s hood.
The beast man then grabbed hold of the car and with a primal growl of rage, flung it away.
“Did you just hit my car, you big *&^%# furry?” Robbie snapped, lunging at the man-monster.
He caught Bruticus with an one/two punch combo to the stomach and then swung, having to practically leap up to reach the monster’s jaw with an upper cut.
Bruticus stumbled backwards, the angry teen, continuing to pummel him.
“Kid’s got potential,” Hamilton muttered, firing as he leapt down from his horse.
Dan Ketch unmercifully continued to punch Maelstrom. The tall deviant struggled to fight back, and then panicking attempted to escape, causing the two to fly above the combatants erratically.
With each blow, Ghost Rider’s flames burned hotter and brighter, leaving scorch marks as well as bruises.
“I don’t hear any smart quips!” He raged, repeatedly driving his fist into the villains’ face. “Where’s your bad guy stand up routine? Come on! Monologue me, you pathetic sack of shit!”
Flailing about, struggling desperately to get loose, Maelstrom blasted at his attacker.
Dan’s leathers smoked and shredded, until the skeleton beneath was clearly visible.
Other-dimensional energies scorched bone and cracked ribs, but Dan Ketch clung even tighter and continued to strike him.
“You want the gate!” Dan raged.” This is what it costs you!! It is a #%&! Rock round your neck every minute, of every day, and there’s always going to be some jerk wanting it! Come on! How bad do you want it?”
“That boy has issues,” Hamilton muttered, while firing at the remaining few standing members of Salem’s Seven.
“One problem at a time,” Johnny replied, over his shoulder, as he used the butt of his shotgun as a club, cracking Hydron across his scaly green jaw.
Hamilton shrugged and caught Gazelle in mid-leap with a ghost bullet.
He glanced from Dan and Maelstrom, over to where Robbie was duking it out with Bruticus.
“Keep them busy for a minute, I got an idea.” Slade said, before lunging away and going intangible, in order to run through his attackers.
He sent his ghostly steed to help Johnny Blaze fight off the remaining members of the Seven, while he raced around the crowd with a specific goal in mind.
Hamilton Slade continued to fire his six shooters as he ran, until he reached the prone and bound form of Nicholas Scratch.
“How bout you and me have a little chat?” He asked the withered mystic, as he knelt down.
Scratch struggled to focus his rheumy eyes on the ghostly gunslinger.
“You aren’t looking so good, Nick. Rather then beating each other senseless, why don’t we work together against the jackass that made this happen?”
Nicholas Scratch nodded his head, weakly and groaned.
“This might sting a bit,” Hamilton told him, shooting the metal gag off Scratch’s mouth.
“Who…are…?” Scratch rasped weakly.
“We can chat all you want if we survive this mess,” Slade interrupted. “Can you take back control of the Seven from Maelstrom?”
There was a blast of crimson energy and Hamilton flinched as the battered body of Dan Ketch went soaring past, quickly followed by an enraged Maelstrom, his fists crackling with energy.
“You want to be free of him or not?” The cowboy snapped.
“Yesssss…free,” Scratch nodded. The effort of speaking set off a coughing fit, as he struggled against his chains.
“How? You need to tell me how? I don’t have time to guess.”
The warlock struggled to push his shaking, talon of a hand free.
Hamilton took hold of Scratch’s wrist and turned his hand. Scrawled on his palm were blood red runes that pulsed with faint energy.
“I…am…at the end,” Scratch muttered, as Hamilton helped him sit up. “I have…treated the Seven…like tools. I have been a poor caretaker. You…your brothers…guide them…find them…place in this world….”
Another coughing fit caused blood and spittle to trickle down his chin. Scratch shivered and winced.
Hamilton peered, with troubled thoughts, at the dying warlock, then over at his fellow Riders, as well as the Seven.
“Damnit,” He muttered, holstering his six guns and reaching toward his boot.
Johnny Blaze fired his shotgun, knocking down Thornn, and then twirled it to strike Reptilla in her scaly, elongagated solar plexus.
He struggled to catch his breath, feeling the hellfire around his skull and firearm flickering weakly.
Hydron and Vakume, neither looking any steadier then Johnny felt, faced him, stepping forward, ready to fight until they dropped or won the battle.
“Damn, why do these things always have to end with somebody dying…?” He muttered, through gritted teeth.
“Just once…like to talk it over…!”
Just as the duo prepared to attack, Hamilton phased through Johnny.
“Stop!” He shouted.
He held up two items, one was a ghostly white Bowie knife; the other was the severed hand of Nicholas Scratch.
“I summon the seven!” The ghostly cowboy intoned.
There was a flash of light and all Seven seemed to teleport from where they had been, either fallen or in Bruticus’ case in mid- battle and appear, standing at attention before Hamilton Slade.
“Hold it!” He said, sternly. “Fighting’s done. You lot are free to walk away.”
“Free…?” Thornn scoffed. “We have just traded ‘masters’!”
“Yeah, yeah, you have,” Hamilton nodded, before tossing the hand to an understandably startled Vertigo.
“What? What is this?” She asked, stunned.
“You look the most reasonable of the bunch,” The older cowboy told her. “You hold the leash…or decide who gets to be in charge.”
“Or stop being every two bit mystics’ lackey,” Johnny Blaze suggested. “Find out how much fun it is being responsible for your own actions.”
“What the hell is going on?” Robbie said, joining his teammates. “Did we win?”
“Is my brother still getting the crap beat out of him?” Johnny asked, with a grim smile. “Break time’s over.”
The three Riders raced to where Dan Ketch was still locked in combat with Maelstrom.
The angriest Ghost Rider was still on his feet, but just barely.
His leathers were down to scraps, leaving a flaming skeleton in a tattered loincloth and a single boot.
His ribcage was a mass of cracks and his left arm hung limply at his side.
Dan’s flames flickered weakly, sometimes going nearly out and then stubbornly reigniting.
The grass all around him was burnt, the dirt gouged up.
Maelstrom hovered, facing Ghost Rider, his attire torn and stained, his body crackling with magenta energy.
One eye swollen shut and his right hand was attempting to manipulate other-dimensional energies with three broken fingers.
“You broken…little…hnnn…smear of mud…!” Maelstrom growled with mixed anger and pain. “I…I…will grind you into…”
“I am so tired of listening to him,” Hamilton sighed, quick drawing both six guns and shooting the tall megalomaniac through the knees.
“Yeah, I like that plan,” Johnny Blaze said, drawing his shotgun. “A lot.”
Maelstrom was falling to the ground, clutching at his knees, when the shotgun blast caught him in the back.
“Hey, wait!” Robbie called. “My turn!”
He snapped his fingers and the Dodge charger came roaring over, hitting Maelstrom full on.
The villain bounced, then fell to the ground like a sack of wet sand, and lay huddled there, his body sparking crimson and black energy.
“I…uh… will rrrrrip this dimension asunder,” He spat, struggling to rise up. “I will punch a… a hole through the realms and send you and this patch of reality falling through the farthest recesses…the deepest abyss of the multi-verse, knowing your world was left a scorched, bleeding cinder…!”
“Can he do that…?” Robbie asked, losing some of his confidence.
“Likely,” Hamilton shrugged. “Less we stop him.”
“Any idea how we do that?” Johnny asked, as the villain lurched to his feet and raised his hands, flashing red lightening skywards.
“I do,” Vertigo said, appearing amongst the Riders. Her eyes blazed blue and silver and she raised a hand towards Maelstrom. “Here, foul creature!”
Maelstrom turned, making eye contact with the African-American mystic. Her power to twist and tilt balance and perception hit him full on, as he was attempting to strike at both the Ghost Riders and the fragile walls of the dimension that contained the door.
He lurched, drunkenly, his body wreathed in crimson lightening.
“Um…should we do something?” Robbie asked, stepping back.
“Yeah…yeah, we should.” Dan growled, stepping unsteadily forward, his fist aflame.
“Bro, take it easy,” Johnny said. “I got this.”
He took his shotgun and blasted Maelstrom in the mid-section.
The crimson energy around the villain flared and it appeared as though he went into a dramatic bow, practically folding in half. He was then sucked, like water down a drain, into the swirl of energy, which then flared brightly and winked out.
“Did you know that was going to happen?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah…sorta, maybe” Johnny shrugged. He holstered his shotgun, moving quickly to his brother’s side. “Whoa, slow down. You look like crap.”
“I’m…uh…I’m…fine, just…little tired.” The swaying, battered skeleton replied.
“No kidding,” Johnny said, dryly, getting an arm around Dan and keeping him from collapsing to the ground. “How bout we find you a place to sit down, before you fall down….”
Both men returned to their human forms, Dan looked every bit as bruised, battered and exhausted as he had as Ghost Rider.
Johnny glanced over at Robbie and the Black Dodger rolled over to the two men. Johnny helped his brother into the back seat.
“Take it easy,” He said. “We’ll finish this up and then get you home.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Dan muttered, as he bonelessly slumped. “You’re okay…bro.”
“He gonna be alright?” Robbie asked, as Johnny closed the car door.
“Yes and no,” Johnny replied, tiredly. “Deal with it later. One crisis at a time.”
The trio of Riders turned back to face Salem’s Seven.
The supernatural beings were standing in a rough circle around the withered, lifeless husk that had been Nicholas Scratch.
“He was a poor master,” Hydron hissed.
“Selfish and harsh,” Thornn grumbled.
“What will we do without him…?” Gazelle asked, plaintively.
“Please, tell me we did not just get saddled with seven strays?” Hamilton asked.
“No,” Johnny Blaze said, shaking his head. “No. We got enough problems. I know a couple guys, so we can find someone to keep an eye of them but, just…no.”
“Can we go home now?” Robbie asked, leaning against his car. “I am %$#@ tired…!”
“Language,” Slade scolded. “I put up with that from Dan…!”
“Slade, can you see about getting them out of here?” Johnny asked, nodding towards the Seven. “I’ll be back in a sec and then we can get going.”
Receiving a nod, Johnny walked over to the door.
It was a massive, wooden object. Looking like there should be a medieval castle attached to it.
Johnny sighed and placed his hand flat against the black, weathered wood. He could feel a vibration through it, as though the very wood itself was humming and trembling.
Or something on the other side was pushing, hoping and struggling to force the door open.
He then looked at their colossal, ethereal audience.
“You get your money’s worth…?” He asked, bitterly. “At some point, one of you might actually have to do your own dirty work.”
He sighed, shook his head and turned back to the other Riders.
Being a Ghost Rider had always been a burden, at times a punishment, but it had been a small, personal burden.
Since the four Ghost Riders had joined together, sealed the door between the realms of Heaven and Hell, taken on stewardship of the door, that burden had gotten bigger…heavier. They’d all thought they could bear the burden, but Dan’s anger told a different story. Maybe the rest of them weren’t holding up any better. They were just being quieter about it.
“One more thing to worry about,” Johnny muttered at the door. “I hope you’re worth it.”
He turned; taking in the expectant expressions of the other Riders and the newly freed Salem’s Seven.
“Let’s go home.” He said.