"One the Road..."
Johnny Blaze pulled off the highway, into the diner’s parking lot.
A couple cups of coffee and a BLT later, found him back in the parking lot at the diner’s ancient payphone.
“Come on,” he muttered, anxiously, as he listened to the ring tone.
“Hello…?” a voice said, just as he was about to give up and hang up.
“Hey, Roxy,” he said. “It’s me.”
“Johnny? What…the caller idea didn’t recognize this number.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m at a pay phone…I…uh…accidently melted my cell phone,” he explained.
“Where are you?” Roxanne asked, hesitantly.
“Colorado, I think,” he replied. “I’m on my way home.”
“Johnny, we talked about this,” She said, her voice rising and then going hushed, as though she didn’t want anyone to know whom she was talking to. “The kids and I are settled, they like their new school…we’re…good…we’re safe…”
“I know, Rox, I know, and I don’t want to change that…”
“But, you will, you’re still…you still become…him.” His wife interrupted.
“Rox, I don’t want to argue with you,” Johnny said, sadly. “I just want us to be a family…I want to see my kids and spend time with my wife.”
“Can you?” She asked, accusingly. “Can we be a family, with…that…with him…? Or will it go wrong, all over again? How soon before Ghost Rider puts the kids in danger or takes their father away again?”
“Fine,” Johnny snapped. “Then tell me to stay away!”
“What?”
“You don’t want me home, say it, Rox! Make the call.” He explained, desperately trying to make her understand. “I am Ghost Rider, that’s probably never going to change, but things are different now. You were there at the beginning, Roxy…but, it changed things. I’m in control of the demon now. Being Ghost Rider isn’t a burden, it’s not a curse or punishment. It’s a…duty, a calling. I’m not doing it to risk our family; I’m doing it because from now on, every day I’m Ghost Rider means one more day that the sun comes up in the morning and our kids get to see tomorrow. You want me to stay away, fine. It’s not what I want, it never was, but I’m not walking away unless you tell me to.”
There was a long pause, as though neither wanted to be the one to break it, and was willing to listen to dead air until the other spoke first.
Johnny Blaze drew breath, several times about to speak, before stopping himself. Pushing back words and emotions, waiting, until his wife spoke.
“I…I want you to come home,” Roxanne said, barely a whisper and Johnny could hear tears in her voice. “I want my husband back.”
“I love you, Rox.” Johnny said. “I’ll be home in a couple days and we can talk…. figure this out…find a way to make it work.”
“Friday is take out night,” Roxanne Blaze said. “We eat at six. Don’t be late.”
“Deal,” Johnny chuckled. “Love you.”
“I love you too,” She said. “Drive safe, my crazy man.”
“Crazy about you,” Johnny said. “Bye.”
He hung up the phone and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He leaned against the diner wall, let some of the stress flow out of his body and smiled to himself. He then stretched, got back on his bike, and, smiling, was soon roaring down the highway.
He figured he had a couple of hours of daylight left and enough coffee in him to make a good dent in the miles between him and his family.
As night was falling, Johnny got off the highway, wanting to keep going, but keeping an eye out for someplace to grab a bite to eat or a motel, when he finally admitted he needed to stop and get some rest.
A half hour and a good half dozen yawns later, he was keeping an eye out for some place to stop for the night. The sign said, ten miles to the next town.
And just around the corner and past the sign was a car in the ditch and a tractor-trailer jack-knifed across the road.
“Of course it is,” He muttered through gritted teeth. “Because the world hates me. Bet Dan made it back to New York without even seeing a red light. Damnit…!”
He rolled to a stop by the crashed car and carefully, stumbled down the embankment to it. The front end was crumpled, though Johnny couldn’t see what it had hit. It was too far from the truck and the ground was all tall grass. Not even a guardrail or a tree.
The passenger side backdoor was hanging open and Johnny could see someone slumped in the front seat.
“Hey, you okay?’ He asked, pulling open the passenger side door and leaning in.
The driver was a middle-aged man in a short-sleeved dress shirt and a loosely knotted tie. He muttered, under his breath and blinked his eyes a couple time, seeming to have trouble focusing on his would-be rescuer. Johnny spotted a gash across his forehead. Probably where he hit the molding around the windshield, and wondered if the guy had a concussion.
“Can you hear me?” He asked again. “Do you have a cell phone? I can call for help.”
“You…you gotta keep…uh…quiet,” The man muttered. His speech was a bit slurred. Adding to Johnny’s theory of a head injury. “If they hear you…Brian wouldn’t stu—stay in the car…that guy shot him…didn’t have to shoot him…Brian’s ankle was all screwed up…he’d never have gotten…gotten anywhere…”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound good,” Johnny muttered, glancing nervously up towards the road and the truck. He then shook the other man’s shoulder. “Come on, man. Stay with me. Who are you talking about? Who shot Brian…whoever the hell Brian is?”
“The guys…the guys that stopped the truck,” The injured man muttered. “It’s…it’s a robbery…or something, I dunno, but they said if we just stayed quiet…if Brian hadn’t run…”
“Okay, I get it,” Johnny nodded. “Just keep still, okay? I’m going to go see what’s going on. Do you have a cell phone? I think we need help.”
“Under…uh…seat. I grabbed for it and it fell…under the seat…I don’t…”
“Uh-huh,” Johnny said, reaching down and feeling under the car seats. He pulled out some couple crumpled fast food wrappers, an empty Snapple bottle and a baseball cap before he reached the cell phone. “Okay, got it! Look, you call 911. Tell them what’s going on. You banged your head. You need to have something to focus on, something to keep you awake. I’m just going to have a look. Be right back.”
He hit the numbers and then pressed the phone to the other man’s ear. As soon as someone answered and the injured man started talking, Johnny slide out of the car and slowly made his way toward the jack-knifed truck. He stayed low, hoping the tall grass and the dark would keep him hidden until he could see what was going on.
“No, couldn’t be a fender-bender,” He muttered to himself. “Had to stumble across a hijacking. At least I’m not sensing anything supernatural, just a bunch of boring guys with guns. Spider-man does this all the time. I’ll flame on, scare the crap out of them and then see if I can find Brian before the ambulance gets here.”
He climbed up the embankment, peered over at the truck. He could see one guy by the cab and he was definitely holding a gun.
Ducking low, Johnny could peek under the trailer and saw movement. He guessed there were at least three hijackers.
“Let’s go,” He said, as he leapt up and ran towards the truck.
The guy at the cab spotted the figure in the dark running towards him and then there was suddenly lighter to see by, as the new arrival burst into flame.
Before he could get off a shot, the flaming skeleton in blue biker’s leathers was on him, grabbing the front of his jacket with one hand and his gun with the other. A burst of hellfire and the gun was an unrecognizable slag and then a quick shove and the back of the gunman’s head slammed against the door of the truck and he collapsed in a heap on the road.
“One down,” Ghost rider said, grimly.
He heard movement from the other side of the truck. Unsure if he had been heard, or if it was just the hijackers going about their business, Ghost Rider ran towards the rear of the truck. He figured, if this were a hijacking, most of them would be there, unloading whatever they were after from the back of the trailer.
He lunged out of the shadows, striking a second hijacker across the jaw and dropping him. Hellfire roaring from his hands he then ran at what looked to be the last two hijackers.
Only to have a column of water hit him in the chest with a force like a battering ram. The flames in his hands were doused, he was pretty sure he heard ribs crack and as he went tumbling across the road, like a tumbleweed, he had an epiphany about what drove that car off the road. The telephone pole kept him from rolling down the grassy slope and into the woods.
He groaned and shook his skull, reached up one hand, and used the pole to pull himself to his feet.
A second blast of water hit him, pinning him between it and the telephone pole. Johnny Blaze was sure he heard a rib crack that time.
When it stopped he hit the road and lay there, barely able to move his head to see his attacker, let alone strike back.
“What the hell was that?” A voice exclaimed.
“Somebody who’s seen too many action movies, you ask me. Guy thought he was Jason Stratham.” Another voice replied.
“No, hold up. Something’s up. There was…fire or something.”
Two of the hijackers had gotten back to their feet and were standing on either side of a third figure.
He was medium height, had reddish- brown shoulder length hair and even Ghost Rider’s battered brain could tell by his outfit that he was a super villain.
He wore a green bodysuit with plates of blue plastic armor on his chest and legs, as well as blue gloves. He wore a clear plastic visor.
Struggling to stay conscious, Ghost Rider watched the trio walk towards him. One of the hijackers poked him with his gun.
“It was fire!” The other guy said. “His head’s on fire!”
Roll him over,” The man in green and blue ordered. “Something about…holey crap…it’s him! It’s Ghost Rider!”
He knelt down and peered into the skeleton’s face.
“Should have known you’d track me down eventually. “He said. “Chuck, help me move him. T.J. grab that chain off the truck’s back door!”
“What are you gonna do?” Chuck asked, pulling Ghost Rider up and then propping him up against the pole.
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago. Finish him off!”
“Huh-whu…who…?” Ghost Rider mumbled, struggling to break the hijackers’ grip on him.
“You can’t stall for time, playing dumb,” The man in blue and green snapped, driving a fist into the supernatural hero’s solar plexus. “Like you could forget one of your arch-foes.”
“You…uh…don’t look like the Orb,” Ghost Rider said, struggling to catch his breath.
“You think you’re funny, spook! You think if you kid around with Aqueduct, I’ll forget all about killing you? We’ll have a good laugh and go our separate ways?”
“Aqueduct?” Ghost Rider muttered, raising his head. “Were…uh…all the gu-good villain names taken?”
“Boss, can’t we just shoot him and get out of here?” Chuck asked, anxiously. “We need to get going. This road won’t stay empty all night.”
“Soon as T.J. comes back with the chains, you guys can finish unloading the truck, while I finish with the Ghost Rider.”
The henchman returned, and handed the length of chain to his employer, who then moved in order to chain the injured hero to the pole and put out his fire permanently.
“Make fun of the name all you want, but you know one thing, Aqueduct is the one that’s going to have the rep for killing a demon.” He sneered.
“I know…know…one thing,” Ghost Rider said, his voice rasping, barely above a whisper.
“What’s that, spook?” Aqueduct snarled.
“You talk too much.”
Ghost Rider reached up, grabbed the chain and blasted it with hellfire. The flame ran up the chain and then up Aqueduct’s arm. His plastic gauntlet began to sizzle, bubble and then melt.
“Arrrgggh!” The villain yelled, pulling his arm back. In pain and panicking, he blasted Ghost Rider with water from his free hand, stumbling backwards.
A second blast of fire melted the asphalt, halting Aqueduct’s retreat, as his boots stuck in the gooey, hot tar.
Ghost Rider lurched to his feet, blasting a ring of fire around himself and his attacker, to keep the other crooks back. He limped over and grabbed a handful of the frightened villain’s hair and pulled him in until mere inches separated them.
Aqueduct whimpered and flinched back.
“I hate to add insult to injury,” Ghost Rider said, in a low, angry tone. “But, I have no idea who you are. If I’d crossed paths with an idiot like you before, I think that would have stuck with me. You think just because you can magically control water that makes you…”
He paused, and tilted his head slightly, as a thought pushed it’s way through his pain –fogged brain.
Aqueduct anxiously opened one eye, wondering why he wasn’t a small pile of smoldering ash yet.
“Water Wizard!” Ghost Rider said. “Of all the…I’d forgotten all about you…!’
“Forgotten!” Aqueduct snapped, indignation overriding fear. “I’m one of your arch-foes! Fire and water!”
“I’ve gone toe to toe with the devil,” Ghost Rider told him. “Some cretin in an orange body stocking hardly makes the top ten…goddamn, is this what my life has become…?”
“If you think…!” Aqueduct snarled, miniature water spouts forming around his clenched fists.
Ghost Rider pulled the super villain in close; head butted him and then dropped his unconscious body to the ground. He then dissipated the ring of fire and stalked towards Aqueduct’s minions.
“You are going to drop your guns and then you are going to run.” He snarled, white-hot flame bursting from his fingertips.
All three followed his instructions and were soon lost in the night.
A moment of concentration and Ghost Rider was gone, reverting back to Johnny Blaze.
Holding his side, he limped back to his motorcycle. Hearing approaching sirens, he climbed on and rolled around the truck and back down the highway, sure the local cops and EMTs could handle the situation, and too tired and bruised to put in any more effort to help then he already had.
“Water Wizard,” He muttered to himself, with a rueful chuckle, as he turned, followed the curve of the road and headed in search of a shower and a place to sleep. “I save the world, take on the armies of the Mole man and then get my ass handed to me by the Water Wizard…think I’ll keep this little adventure to myself.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Epilogue, the first:
Hamilton Slade had long ago left the highway, happy to take the back roads home. The past week had been hectic and quite literally Hellish and a couple hours spent rolling down the road, feeling the wind on his face and watching the scenery go by was like a balm on a wound he hadn’t realized was still hurting him.
Out here in the desert of New Mexico, traffic lights became a rare treat and the only available lights were distant dots of far off towns or the stars in the night sky.
A flash of movement at the edge of the circle cast by the pickup’s headlights caught the older cowboy’s attention.
When it was repeated a mile down the road curiosity began to shift into concern.
“What the…?” He muttered, slowing down.
He then saw that it was an animal of some kind, a dog, or maybe a wolf.
“A…coyote…?” Hamilton breathed, pulling over to the side of the road. He kept the truck running and the headlights on. He pulled on his gun belt as he walked around the bed of the truck and into the desert.
With his back to the truck’s lights, his eyes soon adjusted to the dark.
A couple yards away from the road was some scrub grass and a trio of large rocks.
The coyote sat perched upon the middle one, gazing patiently at the cowboy. Its fur was light brown, with a streak of grey running down its thin chest. One ear looked ragged, as though it had not fared well in a fight with another animal.
“Well, you got my attention,” Hamilton said. “What’s on your mind?”
“You and your fellow Riders have been busy of late,” The coyote said, in a low, cultured tone. It had a faint accent, like a learned scholar trying to speak a language that wasn’t its native tongue. “Your actions have sent ripples across the realms.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Your actions will have consequences,” The coyote continued.
“Is this a threat or a warning?” Hamilton asked, resting a hand on the butt of his six-shooter.”
“Slade,” The coyote intoned. “You are ugly and have poor choice in liquor, but I have grown fond of your bloodline. You are amongst the least bothersome mortals I have encountered. I would see you forewarned of events to come.”
“I appreciate that,” Hamilton nodded.
“It will make things that much more interesting.” Coyote said, his tongue lolling out happily. “It’ll be fun to watch and see what happens.”
Hamilton frowned slightly.
“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re entertained,” He said.
The coyote raised his head, gave a ‘yip-yip!’ and climbed off the rock and trotted off into the night.
“If it ain’t one thing, it’s another,” Hamilton said, returning to his truck.
# # # # # # # # # #
Epilogue: The second:
The skyscraper was a tower of steel and glass, gleaming in the moonlight, it shown like the polished silver at an upscale restaurant. The windows were tinted, so that they reflected back the surrounding buildings and night sky, rather than allowing anyone to look in.
Up on the twenty-first floor there was an office, a sea of carpet lead up to a large onyx desk. The only light on was right above the desk, cast a single pool of light, an island in a sea of shadows.
A cell phone rested on the desk and an ivory white hand reached out of the darkness to answer it.
“Yes?” A dry, quiet voice said.
“There has been an…issue with our efforts in Colorado.” A voice replied, hesitantly, with the universal tone of an underling having to tell his higher up bad news. “Our operatives failed to obtain the product.”
“Have they been informed of our policy on failure?” The dry voice asked, the tone remaining calm and business-like despite the bad news.
“We have been unable to locate the majority of them. Aqueduct is in custody and I’ve been informed that he claims the operation was disrupted by Ghost Rider.”
“I’ve been lead to believe there are two of them. Which one was it?”
“We believe… let me see, John Blaze. By all accounts it was a random encounter.”
“Interesting, but not worrying. Nearly all operations are now settled on the west coast facility. Blaze mostly operates in ‘fly-over’ territory.”
“But, he has been know to operate in Los Angeles,” The underling suggested. “Should we put operations in place?”
“We have more important things to concern ourselves with,” He was told. “If the…if either Ghost Rider should prove to be a problem, we will deal with them. Pay off Aqueduct and then take him off the employment rooster. We need to be more…particular with future hires.”
“I will have a list of potential operatives on your desk by morning.”
The call was ended and with a click, the light went out, leaving the room and its sole occupant in total darkness.
Next issue: Robbie Reyes in solo action!
There’ll be drug dealers! Teen angst! Fast cars! Homework!
And maybe even a super villain!
Author’s note: yeah, these will probably be a regular feature, as I like talking about comic books and writing almost as much as I enjoy reading comic books and writing.
With issue two you get a taste of how the four Ghost Riders will have a different tone to their solo stories as well as a few more hints of stuff to come.
Yes, there are hints of supernatural forces lurking out there, but I don’t want them to be the main focus.
I hate when certain characters are only allowed to fight certain types of bad guys. (Ghost Rider can only fight supernatural bad guys or the Martian Manhunter can only fight other aliens)
I want to mix it up. Plus, I started reading GR back when Johnny Blaze was a member of the Champions, so one issue he’d fight an evil witch and the next the Water Wizard.
Keeps you guessing.
A couple cups of coffee and a BLT later, found him back in the parking lot at the diner’s ancient payphone.
“Come on,” he muttered, anxiously, as he listened to the ring tone.
“Hello…?” a voice said, just as he was about to give up and hang up.
“Hey, Roxy,” he said. “It’s me.”
“Johnny? What…the caller idea didn’t recognize this number.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m at a pay phone…I…uh…accidently melted my cell phone,” he explained.
“Where are you?” Roxanne asked, hesitantly.
“Colorado, I think,” he replied. “I’m on my way home.”
“Johnny, we talked about this,” She said, her voice rising and then going hushed, as though she didn’t want anyone to know whom she was talking to. “The kids and I are settled, they like their new school…we’re…good…we’re safe…”
“I know, Rox, I know, and I don’t want to change that…”
“But, you will, you’re still…you still become…him.” His wife interrupted.
“Rox, I don’t want to argue with you,” Johnny said, sadly. “I just want us to be a family…I want to see my kids and spend time with my wife.”
“Can you?” She asked, accusingly. “Can we be a family, with…that…with him…? Or will it go wrong, all over again? How soon before Ghost Rider puts the kids in danger or takes their father away again?”
“Fine,” Johnny snapped. “Then tell me to stay away!”
“What?”
“You don’t want me home, say it, Rox! Make the call.” He explained, desperately trying to make her understand. “I am Ghost Rider, that’s probably never going to change, but things are different now. You were there at the beginning, Roxy…but, it changed things. I’m in control of the demon now. Being Ghost Rider isn’t a burden, it’s not a curse or punishment. It’s a…duty, a calling. I’m not doing it to risk our family; I’m doing it because from now on, every day I’m Ghost Rider means one more day that the sun comes up in the morning and our kids get to see tomorrow. You want me to stay away, fine. It’s not what I want, it never was, but I’m not walking away unless you tell me to.”
There was a long pause, as though neither wanted to be the one to break it, and was willing to listen to dead air until the other spoke first.
Johnny Blaze drew breath, several times about to speak, before stopping himself. Pushing back words and emotions, waiting, until his wife spoke.
“I…I want you to come home,” Roxanne said, barely a whisper and Johnny could hear tears in her voice. “I want my husband back.”
“I love you, Rox.” Johnny said. “I’ll be home in a couple days and we can talk…. figure this out…find a way to make it work.”
“Friday is take out night,” Roxanne Blaze said. “We eat at six. Don’t be late.”
“Deal,” Johnny chuckled. “Love you.”
“I love you too,” She said. “Drive safe, my crazy man.”
“Crazy about you,” Johnny said. “Bye.”
He hung up the phone and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He leaned against the diner wall, let some of the stress flow out of his body and smiled to himself. He then stretched, got back on his bike, and, smiling, was soon roaring down the highway.
He figured he had a couple of hours of daylight left and enough coffee in him to make a good dent in the miles between him and his family.
As night was falling, Johnny got off the highway, wanting to keep going, but keeping an eye out for someplace to grab a bite to eat or a motel, when he finally admitted he needed to stop and get some rest.
A half hour and a good half dozen yawns later, he was keeping an eye out for some place to stop for the night. The sign said, ten miles to the next town.
And just around the corner and past the sign was a car in the ditch and a tractor-trailer jack-knifed across the road.
“Of course it is,” He muttered through gritted teeth. “Because the world hates me. Bet Dan made it back to New York without even seeing a red light. Damnit…!”
He rolled to a stop by the crashed car and carefully, stumbled down the embankment to it. The front end was crumpled, though Johnny couldn’t see what it had hit. It was too far from the truck and the ground was all tall grass. Not even a guardrail or a tree.
The passenger side backdoor was hanging open and Johnny could see someone slumped in the front seat.
“Hey, you okay?’ He asked, pulling open the passenger side door and leaning in.
The driver was a middle-aged man in a short-sleeved dress shirt and a loosely knotted tie. He muttered, under his breath and blinked his eyes a couple time, seeming to have trouble focusing on his would-be rescuer. Johnny spotted a gash across his forehead. Probably where he hit the molding around the windshield, and wondered if the guy had a concussion.
“Can you hear me?” He asked again. “Do you have a cell phone? I can call for help.”
“You…you gotta keep…uh…quiet,” The man muttered. His speech was a bit slurred. Adding to Johnny’s theory of a head injury. “If they hear you…Brian wouldn’t stu—stay in the car…that guy shot him…didn’t have to shoot him…Brian’s ankle was all screwed up…he’d never have gotten…gotten anywhere…”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound good,” Johnny muttered, glancing nervously up towards the road and the truck. He then shook the other man’s shoulder. “Come on, man. Stay with me. Who are you talking about? Who shot Brian…whoever the hell Brian is?”
“The guys…the guys that stopped the truck,” The injured man muttered. “It’s…it’s a robbery…or something, I dunno, but they said if we just stayed quiet…if Brian hadn’t run…”
“Okay, I get it,” Johnny nodded. “Just keep still, okay? I’m going to go see what’s going on. Do you have a cell phone? I think we need help.”
“Under…uh…seat. I grabbed for it and it fell…under the seat…I don’t…”
“Uh-huh,” Johnny said, reaching down and feeling under the car seats. He pulled out some couple crumpled fast food wrappers, an empty Snapple bottle and a baseball cap before he reached the cell phone. “Okay, got it! Look, you call 911. Tell them what’s going on. You banged your head. You need to have something to focus on, something to keep you awake. I’m just going to have a look. Be right back.”
He hit the numbers and then pressed the phone to the other man’s ear. As soon as someone answered and the injured man started talking, Johnny slide out of the car and slowly made his way toward the jack-knifed truck. He stayed low, hoping the tall grass and the dark would keep him hidden until he could see what was going on.
“No, couldn’t be a fender-bender,” He muttered to himself. “Had to stumble across a hijacking. At least I’m not sensing anything supernatural, just a bunch of boring guys with guns. Spider-man does this all the time. I’ll flame on, scare the crap out of them and then see if I can find Brian before the ambulance gets here.”
He climbed up the embankment, peered over at the truck. He could see one guy by the cab and he was definitely holding a gun.
Ducking low, Johnny could peek under the trailer and saw movement. He guessed there were at least three hijackers.
“Let’s go,” He said, as he leapt up and ran towards the truck.
The guy at the cab spotted the figure in the dark running towards him and then there was suddenly lighter to see by, as the new arrival burst into flame.
Before he could get off a shot, the flaming skeleton in blue biker’s leathers was on him, grabbing the front of his jacket with one hand and his gun with the other. A burst of hellfire and the gun was an unrecognizable slag and then a quick shove and the back of the gunman’s head slammed against the door of the truck and he collapsed in a heap on the road.
“One down,” Ghost rider said, grimly.
He heard movement from the other side of the truck. Unsure if he had been heard, or if it was just the hijackers going about their business, Ghost Rider ran towards the rear of the truck. He figured, if this were a hijacking, most of them would be there, unloading whatever they were after from the back of the trailer.
He lunged out of the shadows, striking a second hijacker across the jaw and dropping him. Hellfire roaring from his hands he then ran at what looked to be the last two hijackers.
Only to have a column of water hit him in the chest with a force like a battering ram. The flames in his hands were doused, he was pretty sure he heard ribs crack and as he went tumbling across the road, like a tumbleweed, he had an epiphany about what drove that car off the road. The telephone pole kept him from rolling down the grassy slope and into the woods.
He groaned and shook his skull, reached up one hand, and used the pole to pull himself to his feet.
A second blast of water hit him, pinning him between it and the telephone pole. Johnny Blaze was sure he heard a rib crack that time.
When it stopped he hit the road and lay there, barely able to move his head to see his attacker, let alone strike back.
“What the hell was that?” A voice exclaimed.
“Somebody who’s seen too many action movies, you ask me. Guy thought he was Jason Stratham.” Another voice replied.
“No, hold up. Something’s up. There was…fire or something.”
Two of the hijackers had gotten back to their feet and were standing on either side of a third figure.
He was medium height, had reddish- brown shoulder length hair and even Ghost Rider’s battered brain could tell by his outfit that he was a super villain.
He wore a green bodysuit with plates of blue plastic armor on his chest and legs, as well as blue gloves. He wore a clear plastic visor.
Struggling to stay conscious, Ghost Rider watched the trio walk towards him. One of the hijackers poked him with his gun.
“It was fire!” The other guy said. “His head’s on fire!”
Roll him over,” The man in green and blue ordered. “Something about…holey crap…it’s him! It’s Ghost Rider!”
He knelt down and peered into the skeleton’s face.
“Should have known you’d track me down eventually. “He said. “Chuck, help me move him. T.J. grab that chain off the truck’s back door!”
“What are you gonna do?” Chuck asked, pulling Ghost Rider up and then propping him up against the pole.
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago. Finish him off!”
“Huh-whu…who…?” Ghost Rider mumbled, struggling to break the hijackers’ grip on him.
“You can’t stall for time, playing dumb,” The man in blue and green snapped, driving a fist into the supernatural hero’s solar plexus. “Like you could forget one of your arch-foes.”
“You…uh…don’t look like the Orb,” Ghost Rider said, struggling to catch his breath.
“You think you’re funny, spook! You think if you kid around with Aqueduct, I’ll forget all about killing you? We’ll have a good laugh and go our separate ways?”
“Aqueduct?” Ghost Rider muttered, raising his head. “Were…uh…all the gu-good villain names taken?”
“Boss, can’t we just shoot him and get out of here?” Chuck asked, anxiously. “We need to get going. This road won’t stay empty all night.”
“Soon as T.J. comes back with the chains, you guys can finish unloading the truck, while I finish with the Ghost Rider.”
The henchman returned, and handed the length of chain to his employer, who then moved in order to chain the injured hero to the pole and put out his fire permanently.
“Make fun of the name all you want, but you know one thing, Aqueduct is the one that’s going to have the rep for killing a demon.” He sneered.
“I know…know…one thing,” Ghost Rider said, his voice rasping, barely above a whisper.
“What’s that, spook?” Aqueduct snarled.
“You talk too much.”
Ghost Rider reached up, grabbed the chain and blasted it with hellfire. The flame ran up the chain and then up Aqueduct’s arm. His plastic gauntlet began to sizzle, bubble and then melt.
“Arrrgggh!” The villain yelled, pulling his arm back. In pain and panicking, he blasted Ghost Rider with water from his free hand, stumbling backwards.
A second blast of fire melted the asphalt, halting Aqueduct’s retreat, as his boots stuck in the gooey, hot tar.
Ghost Rider lurched to his feet, blasting a ring of fire around himself and his attacker, to keep the other crooks back. He limped over and grabbed a handful of the frightened villain’s hair and pulled him in until mere inches separated them.
Aqueduct whimpered and flinched back.
“I hate to add insult to injury,” Ghost Rider said, in a low, angry tone. “But, I have no idea who you are. If I’d crossed paths with an idiot like you before, I think that would have stuck with me. You think just because you can magically control water that makes you…”
He paused, and tilted his head slightly, as a thought pushed it’s way through his pain –fogged brain.
Aqueduct anxiously opened one eye, wondering why he wasn’t a small pile of smoldering ash yet.
“Water Wizard!” Ghost Rider said. “Of all the…I’d forgotten all about you…!’
“Forgotten!” Aqueduct snapped, indignation overriding fear. “I’m one of your arch-foes! Fire and water!”
“I’ve gone toe to toe with the devil,” Ghost Rider told him. “Some cretin in an orange body stocking hardly makes the top ten…goddamn, is this what my life has become…?”
“If you think…!” Aqueduct snarled, miniature water spouts forming around his clenched fists.
Ghost Rider pulled the super villain in close; head butted him and then dropped his unconscious body to the ground. He then dissipated the ring of fire and stalked towards Aqueduct’s minions.
“You are going to drop your guns and then you are going to run.” He snarled, white-hot flame bursting from his fingertips.
All three followed his instructions and were soon lost in the night.
A moment of concentration and Ghost Rider was gone, reverting back to Johnny Blaze.
Holding his side, he limped back to his motorcycle. Hearing approaching sirens, he climbed on and rolled around the truck and back down the highway, sure the local cops and EMTs could handle the situation, and too tired and bruised to put in any more effort to help then he already had.
“Water Wizard,” He muttered to himself, with a rueful chuckle, as he turned, followed the curve of the road and headed in search of a shower and a place to sleep. “I save the world, take on the armies of the Mole man and then get my ass handed to me by the Water Wizard…think I’ll keep this little adventure to myself.”
# # # # # # # # # #
Epilogue, the first:
Hamilton Slade had long ago left the highway, happy to take the back roads home. The past week had been hectic and quite literally Hellish and a couple hours spent rolling down the road, feeling the wind on his face and watching the scenery go by was like a balm on a wound he hadn’t realized was still hurting him.
Out here in the desert of New Mexico, traffic lights became a rare treat and the only available lights were distant dots of far off towns or the stars in the night sky.
A flash of movement at the edge of the circle cast by the pickup’s headlights caught the older cowboy’s attention.
When it was repeated a mile down the road curiosity began to shift into concern.
“What the…?” He muttered, slowing down.
He then saw that it was an animal of some kind, a dog, or maybe a wolf.
“A…coyote…?” Hamilton breathed, pulling over to the side of the road. He kept the truck running and the headlights on. He pulled on his gun belt as he walked around the bed of the truck and into the desert.
With his back to the truck’s lights, his eyes soon adjusted to the dark.
A couple yards away from the road was some scrub grass and a trio of large rocks.
The coyote sat perched upon the middle one, gazing patiently at the cowboy. Its fur was light brown, with a streak of grey running down its thin chest. One ear looked ragged, as though it had not fared well in a fight with another animal.
“Well, you got my attention,” Hamilton said. “What’s on your mind?”
“You and your fellow Riders have been busy of late,” The coyote said, in a low, cultured tone. It had a faint accent, like a learned scholar trying to speak a language that wasn’t its native tongue. “Your actions have sent ripples across the realms.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Your actions will have consequences,” The coyote continued.
“Is this a threat or a warning?” Hamilton asked, resting a hand on the butt of his six-shooter.”
“Slade,” The coyote intoned. “You are ugly and have poor choice in liquor, but I have grown fond of your bloodline. You are amongst the least bothersome mortals I have encountered. I would see you forewarned of events to come.”
“I appreciate that,” Hamilton nodded.
“It will make things that much more interesting.” Coyote said, his tongue lolling out happily. “It’ll be fun to watch and see what happens.”
Hamilton frowned slightly.
“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re entertained,” He said.
The coyote raised his head, gave a ‘yip-yip!’ and climbed off the rock and trotted off into the night.
“If it ain’t one thing, it’s another,” Hamilton said, returning to his truck.
# # # # # # # # # #
Epilogue: The second:
The skyscraper was a tower of steel and glass, gleaming in the moonlight, it shown like the polished silver at an upscale restaurant. The windows were tinted, so that they reflected back the surrounding buildings and night sky, rather than allowing anyone to look in.
Up on the twenty-first floor there was an office, a sea of carpet lead up to a large onyx desk. The only light on was right above the desk, cast a single pool of light, an island in a sea of shadows.
A cell phone rested on the desk and an ivory white hand reached out of the darkness to answer it.
“Yes?” A dry, quiet voice said.
“There has been an…issue with our efforts in Colorado.” A voice replied, hesitantly, with the universal tone of an underling having to tell his higher up bad news. “Our operatives failed to obtain the product.”
“Have they been informed of our policy on failure?” The dry voice asked, the tone remaining calm and business-like despite the bad news.
“We have been unable to locate the majority of them. Aqueduct is in custody and I’ve been informed that he claims the operation was disrupted by Ghost Rider.”
“I’ve been lead to believe there are two of them. Which one was it?”
“We believe… let me see, John Blaze. By all accounts it was a random encounter.”
“Interesting, but not worrying. Nearly all operations are now settled on the west coast facility. Blaze mostly operates in ‘fly-over’ territory.”
“But, he has been know to operate in Los Angeles,” The underling suggested. “Should we put operations in place?”
“We have more important things to concern ourselves with,” He was told. “If the…if either Ghost Rider should prove to be a problem, we will deal with them. Pay off Aqueduct and then take him off the employment rooster. We need to be more…particular with future hires.”
“I will have a list of potential operatives on your desk by morning.”
The call was ended and with a click, the light went out, leaving the room and its sole occupant in total darkness.
Next issue: Robbie Reyes in solo action!
There’ll be drug dealers! Teen angst! Fast cars! Homework!
And maybe even a super villain!
Author’s note: yeah, these will probably be a regular feature, as I like talking about comic books and writing almost as much as I enjoy reading comic books and writing.
With issue two you get a taste of how the four Ghost Riders will have a different tone to their solo stories as well as a few more hints of stuff to come.
Yes, there are hints of supernatural forces lurking out there, but I don’t want them to be the main focus.
I hate when certain characters are only allowed to fight certain types of bad guys. (Ghost Rider can only fight supernatural bad guys or the Martian Manhunter can only fight other aliens)
I want to mix it up. Plus, I started reading GR back when Johnny Blaze was a member of the Champions, so one issue he’d fight an evil witch and the next the Water Wizard.
Keeps you guessing.