"A Day in the Life..."
Loki swung his staff and the ground cracked open, and the earth unleashed it’s dead.
The zombies poured out. Wolverine lunged forward, claws slashing through decayed flesh and rotting bone.
“Logan will buy us some time!” Black Widow shouted. “Thor, protect the civilians! Sleepwalker! Ghost Rider! With me!”
She leapt, flipped in the air and drew her guns as she landed on the hood of Ghost Rider’s black racer, as they raced toward the zombie horde.
Robbie Reyes’ brain bounced around, worry over surviving the battle clashed with how impressed he was, as he drove through the crowd, with the Russian spy taking out a zombie with each shot and being slightly distracted at how close her butt was to his windshield.
He shifted and cranked the wheel; the car skidded and plowed sideways into the advancing zombies, sending body parts and gravel flying.
The gaunt, green-skinned hero hovered above the fray, sending eyebeams blazing through any zombies that attempted to surround the supernaturally fueled car, allowing them to get ever closer to Loki.
The Asgardian glowered at the trio of heroes, raised his staff and unleashed a bolt of mystical energy at them.
The Ghost Rider’s car halted; like it had struck a brick wall and both the driver and his lethal, yet shapely, hood ornament went tumbling to the ground.
Dazed by his trip through the windshield, Robbie struggled to clear his vision and get up off the ground. Black Widow, bleeding from a harsh gash down one leg, gritted her teeth and kept firing up until the point that her guns clicked empty and she was overrun by the undead.
“No…!” Ghost Rider moaned, fighting past the pain and getting to his feet. He raised his hands and flames burst from them, manifesting themselves as two long chains, burning white hot and each tipped with a sickle.
He swung them, mowing done dozens of zombies with each swing. He could not find either Black Widow or Wolverine, but was able to clear a path to Loki.
Sleepwalker floated down, and hovered by Ghost Rider’s side.
“I must go now,” he intoned. “We will meet again, Robert Reyes.”
“What…?” Ghost Rider said, watching confused, as the hooded figure flew away. So, he wasn’t paying attention in time to block the blast that struck him in the chest.
Ghost Rider went flying backwards, landing on his back, his body wracked with pain and struggling to catch his breath.
A boot heel stomped down on his solar plexus.
“You and I will also speak again,” Loki said, leaning in. His eyes blazed with crimson fire. “And when we do I hope you have…completed your algebra assignment, Mr. Reyes…!”
“Huh…? What…?” Robbie Reyes stammered, startling awake.
First he noticed was that the army of zombies had been replaced with his second period algebra class and that they were all looking at him.
Instead of a mystical staff of power, his teacher, Mrs. Van Dell was pointing at him with a pencil.
She had the same arrogant, disdainful look on her face as Loki though.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Mr. Reyes,” his guidance counselor, Mr. Doyle said, sitting down at his desk. “I don’t usually see you this early in the week.”
He looked down at the papers on his desk.
“Fell asleep in class and was rude and disruptive.” He read and then glanced up at Robbie. “I know Mrs. Van Dell can be…let’s say, abrasive, but this, along with last week’s absences don’t look good on your record.”
“Really?” Robbie grumbled, glaring at the older man. “You’ve got kids dealing drugs in the parking lot and I’m the one hurting the school’s rep?”
“Look, Mr. Reyes…”
“No, I don’t want to look!” Robbie interrupted, leaning forward. “With my folks gone, I’ve got custody of my younger brother, but keeping the house and taking care of everything Gabe needs means we are going through my Mom’s savings and the insurance money like crazy. I’ve got to be a ‘responsible adult’ to keep Gabe out of a foster home. Which means keeping my grades up, being a parent and having to get a job. I’m sorry if my snoring is depriving anyone of a quality education, but with everything I’m doing, and I’m doing better in that class than most of the ‘undisruptive’ students you think somebody here could cut me a break or maybe actually help me?”
Robbie slumped back in his chair, arms crossed tightly. He was sure that he had just caused himself a whole bunch more trouble, but all of the stress had been building in him these past couple weeks. Turning into some kind of supernatural super hero and then being dragged off and told he now had to help avert the apocalypse hadn’t helped his stress levels or sleep schedule.
Robbie knew Mr. Doyle wasn’t a bad guy and didn’t deserve to get snapped at, so he braced himself for the lecture and at least a couple days suspension that were coming his way. On the bright side, it would mean he could get some sleep.
“Maybe you’re right, Mr. Reyes…Robert,” Mr. Doyle said.
“What?”
“Your grades are solid, last week is the only unexcused absence you’ve had this year and maybe, we could do something to help.”
“Um…really?” Robbie asked, unsure if he should be relieved or if he was being set up.
“This school has its problems, but when we can step up and help our students, especially those are not just in need of help, but asking for it, we should. You’ve taken on more than anyone your age should have to and you’ve shown nothing but a willingness to do the work and take the responsibility.”
“So…uh…what now?” Robbie asked, relaxing and loosening up his arms.
“I’ll have a word with Mrs. Van Dell,” Mr. Doyle said. “I think under the circumstances, the ‘stern lecture’ I gave you has put you back on the straight and narrow and no detention is required. This far into the semester, I’m not sure what else we can do, except talk to your teachers, and see about having any study halls you have turned into free periods, allow you to leave campus if you need to. How does that sound?”
“That…um…that sounds great,” Robbie said. “That would help. I’m…look, I’m sorry, I snapped. You’ve been pretty cool to me and all, but…things have just piled on and it’s been a crazy week.”
“I can imagine,” Mr. Doyle smiled.
“Yeah, probably not,” Robbie said, thinking of his recent fight with an army of mole men, as he got to his feet. “Thanks. Okay, if I go? I promise I’ll stay awake in western civ.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Mr. Doyle said, standing up and offering his hand.
# # # # # # # # # #
The rest of the day was uneventful. He got through the rest of his classes, awake and drama free.
Soon, the day was over and he was racing to get to his car, so he could pick up his brother and have a couple hours with him, before he had to get to work. He was out of the building and within sight of the black Dodge-charger that was the ‘secret identity’ of Ghost Rider’s hellcar, when three teenage boys in baggy shorts, wife beaters, a couple of garish chains and the prerequisite backwards baseball caps of the Los Angeles street thug got in his way.
Guerra and his boys were the poster children for ‘disruptive and rude’ at the high school and they had decided that if life wasn’t shoveling enough crap on Robbie’s head they’d do their best to take up the slack.
“Hey, Tino, Sleeping beauty is awake!” Guerra exclaimed, talking louder than he needed to, as he was only inches away from Robbie’s face.
“Yeah, must have gotten the prince to kiss him,” Tino, a shorter, husky kid chortled. He then shared a fist bump with the third member of the trio, who not having a witticism to share, merely laughed.
“Okay,” Robbie said, moving to get past them. “Funny stuff, but I guess you’ve got a busy afternoon, shaking down middle-school kids so you’ll have drinking money, so I’ll talk to you later.”
“Where the &*^%$ you think you going?” Guerra snarled, grabbing hold of Robbie’s shoulder.
Robbie spun, glaring at the other boy. He could feel the flames, just below his skin. The Ghost Rider wanted out, wanted to deal with this problem its own special, fire-blasting way.
Robbie took a breath.
“I think I’ve got a job to go to and a family to take care of,” He said, struggling to keep his voice even.
The other boy stopped, fist raised. Something in Robbie’s eyes told him, there was more going on here than he knew and for the briefest of moments, he felt a spark of fear of the thinner, studious boy.
“Yeah, you go do that,” Guerra muttered darkly. “Go take care of the little retard.”
Robbie turned and walked to his car, breathing heavily, as he felt the Ghost Rider beating his fists on the wall of his soul, barely held in check.
“That…that was not good,” He muttered to himself as he drove away. “I get that it’s hard to be afraid of those wanna-be Eminem’s after literary going to hell and back, but what was that *&^%$ with the Ghost Rider? Guerra and his boys are freakin’ douches, but that should not be setting off the Ghost Rider. Supposed to be about punishing the big bads, not just any a-hole that irritates me.”
He shook his head, glanced over at the dashboard, as though the answer might be there. The power that made him the Ghost Rider and been infused not just to his body and soul, but his Dad’s old car as well.
There were times when Robbie felt that it wasn’t some mystical energy that let him control the car practically by thought alone, but that the car had a hellfire scorched soul of its own and was in a weird way alive.
It wasn’t just a car any longer, it was almost like some kind of wild beast that he had tamed, that it kept it’s feral nature in check, recognizing Robbie as the alpha male.
“Man, I gotta get a date,” He muttered. “Heck, I’d settle for an hour just sitting talking boring, normal crap with someone who doesn’t have magic super powers. I used to do that.”
He drove slowly, giving himself some time to shake off the stress and the uncertainty and then pulled up in front of his younger brother’s school.
Gabe was sitting in his wheelchair by the front door. One of the teachers was with him.
“Hello, Mrs. Germer,” He said, getting out. “Hey, Gabe-monster!”
“Robbie!” His brother called back, raising his thin arms.
The two brothers hugged and for a second, every bit of stress and worry was gone.
“Okay, man, I gotta get you home. Tell Mrs. Germer you’ll see her tomorrow.”
They said their good-byes, Robbie thanking the teacher for the extra help she’d given Gabe last week, when he hadn’t been around and then they were in the black car and driving home.
“I didn’t know if you’d be home today,” Gabe said. He was a thin boy, small for his age and suffered from a nerve disorder that left him with little control of his limbs. Buried in that head was a big brain, but Gabe had to struggle to get his thoughts out or to get his body to obey any of his commands.
“Come on, man,” Robbie told him. “Monday is Mac and cheese day and I love Mac and cheese!”
“Me too,” Gabe nodded. “You home to stay?”
“I think so, Gabe,” He replied. “I gotta work tonight, so Mrs. Ramirez will get you to bed, but we’ll have Mac and cheese, you can tell me about your school work and maybe we can watch some cartoons before I have to head out.”
“Pokémon?” Gabe asked.
“Again?!” Robbie exclaimed in mock-protest. “Brock is never going to get a girlfriend!”
“Team Rocket blasting off again!” Gabe laughed.
“I missed you, bro,” Robbie said, reaching over to muss his brother’s hair.
# # # # # # # # # #
A couple hours later, his belly full of Mac and cheese, his little brother in bed, being read to by their older neighbor, Robbie changed into an all-black ensemble, jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and jacket and heading off to work.
He felt a slight twinge of guilt, talking up, how he had to work to pay the bills, as he got most of the money from street racing, and the rest by running errands for Tommy G, a small time hustler, far down on L.A.’s criminal ladder, who actually referred to himself as a ‘legitimate businessman’ and would even do the air quote fingers when he said it.
It wasn’t like he was slaving away at the fry machine, but he also had not gotten so stupid as to get into dealing or running with a gang.
He had made a promise to himself that, come summer, when school was out, he’d find a real job, something solid and boring.
Until then, racing was keeping him and Gabe in the house and the lights on.
He pulled up to a small, dark, nondescript garage. He flashed his lights and waited a minute, until one of the bay doors opened.
Inside were another four cars, and a dozen assorted teenagers, low-level hustlers and a couple guys that looked like accountants.
Robbie nodded to a couple in greeting and then made his way to the office in the back.
Tommy’s office looked liked it had been decorated in the 70’s and he had just been too busy to update it. It was all fake wood paneling, pea-green threadbare carpet and a red leather sofa with a sag in the middle so severe you were practically sitting on the floor.
“Roberto!” Tommy shouted from his desk. He offered a pudgy, be-ringed hand for a fist bump and then waved Robbie over to the sofa. “Could have used you last week, man! T.T. from south side got himself a couple new kids and the Japs are running this guy….”
“We talked about this before, Tommy,” Robbie said, perching on the arm of the sofa nearest to the desk. “You want to give me healthcare, then I’ll go fulltime on the payroll. I’m here now. What’d you need tonight?”
“I got couple things be good for you,” Tommy said, rummaging through the piles of papers on the desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper. “Three good races happening tonight. If I may make a suggestion, take the west road one. Sasagawa’s got this new guy that’s getting a lot of notice.”
Robbie looked over the list of races. The one Tommy was telling him about did not have the most riding on it, but if Tommy was nervous, maybe he should check it out.
Robbie was not a flashy driver. His car wasn’t tricked out, and he didn’t get into a lot of the showing off and chest-thumping BS a lot of other drivers did. He was good enough that he made steady money and had a reputation. The people who came to see and bet on the races knew him, but girls or gamblers never swarmed him.
Tommy’s less than impressive reputation actually kept him under the radar of the bigger gangs or gangsters.
“Yeah, I’m there.” Robbie nodded. “I need gas.”
“You got it.” Tommy beamed.
# # # # # # # # # #
Buried amongst the epic, snaking labyrinth that is the Los Angeles highway system are numerous stretches cut off due to the near constant construction.
The city’s underground racing community hunted down these neglected and abandoned stretches of road and had built up a collection of ‘race tracks’, getting word out through the grapevine and race times and locations were passed to those in the know.
Robbie had no clue how they did it or managed to keep track of them or how the information got passed around. He just talked to Tommy and then picked a race to attend. The details weren’t important to him, just that the money kept him going.
Robbie loved cars and loved racing. While he didn’t over-analyze it, it was most likely the thing that kept him sane when his mom died and he found himself thrown off the deep end into an ocean of adult responsibility.
For those moments when he was racing, he didn’t have to worry about his grades, or Gabe or how he was going to pay the bills.
It was just about keeping the car on the road and going faster than the other guy.
Robbie had driven on west road before, but even so had to watch the road and keep an eye out. He spotted the construction signs. Flashed his lights and when he saw the figure come jogging out of the shadows, rolled his window down.
“Driving for Tommy G.” He told the obvious gang-banger who thought an orange plastic vest and ‘yield’ sign would magically transform him into a believable city employee.
The guard nodded, spared a second for a glance at the car and then waved Robbie on.
He slowly drove along, going from uneven, dug up pavement, to smooth road, crowded with other cars, gamblers, race enthusiasts and assorted nightlife people.
Robbie nodded greetings to a couple guys, touched base with Struges, a skinny African-American who was a fixture at most races. Robbie was unsure if he ran the race, as he seemed perpetually on the verge of dozing off, or if he just kept an eye on things, but he was the guy to talk to.
He also found the guy who handled Tommy’s bets and touched base with him.
There were nine drivers, so the plan was three races, three cars in each one.
After that, depending on who won and whose car made it through undamaged it became a bit of a mix and match. Drivers could challenge each other, or just choose to race again to show off to the crowd, or to try and rake in a cut of whatever side bets were going on.
Robbie got a set fee per race and then a small percentage of whatever Tommy’s people pulled in from the betting pool. His plan was to drive in one of the main races and then maybe another two, depending on how things went.
He did that three nights a week, and then a couple nights of running errands for Tommy, and the bills were paid.
He was set for the second race, so he had a couple minutes to check out the crowd, talk with a few friends and scout out the other drivers.
It was easy to spot one of the new Japanese drivers that Tommy was interested in. He was skinny and wore a leather jacket and looked like some weird hybrid of 50’s greaser and Asian pop star.
His car was a custom yellow racer, tricked out and buffed to a shine that nearly blinded you if you looked at it straight on.
There were two other regular drivers that Robbie knew could make him work for his money, but those three were the only ones he felt he had to worry about.
Soon, the three cars lined up. Robbie was in the middle, with the yellow racers on his left and a beat up purple Porsche turbo on his right.
On one side of the road, a stocky Hispanic was shouting out the rules, while on the other a hot Asian ‘flag girl’ in denim cut-offs and a rhinestone bikini top held the yellow cloth that was the makeshift starters flag over her head.
All three cars revved, waiting, their drivers trying to not appear too anxious or eager.
The flag was dropped and all three cars took off like bullets from a gun.
The yellow racer shot immediately into the lead, with Robbie and the purple turbo a hairsbreadth behind.
Robbie let the turbo creep up on the racer, taking a couple seconds to watch and get a feel for the other drivers.
He nodded to himself, shifted and shot forward, inching past the porche and coming even with the yellow racer.
The other car drifted over a few inches, whether on purpose to nudge Robbie over or as a wobble, as the Asian driver seem to struggle to keep the car under control.
In that brief instant Robbie felt that familiar tingle. An itch that started at the back of his head and crept down the base of his skull down through his spine, that inner radar that told him that ‘something wicked this way comes’.
He caught something out of the corner of his eye, reality seemed to blur and skip for a second and that was more than enough for the yellow racer to shoot past him and cross the finish line first.
Robbie rolled to a stop, any frustration on coming in second pushed aside by confusion. He was still getting a handle on his new powers, but his supernatural radar was solid and reliable. There was something supernatural going on in that race, something about the Japanese racer in the yellow racer.
He got out of his car, absently acknowledging some friends and well-wishers from the crowd, keeping his eyes on the yellow racer.
It had to be him that had set off his senses; a regular that Robbie knew from other races drove the purple car.
Robbie leaned against his car, studying the other driver, while the crowd drifted around him.
A chubby white kid in the traditional wanna-be gangsta uniform of white tee shirt, backwards baseball cap and heavy gold chain came up to Robbie. He was Giffen, one of Tommy’s guys that hung out at these races, handling side bets and spreading any rumors that helped get Tommy’s drivers attention.
“Damn, bro!” He exclaimed. “He beat you by an inch!”
“Yeah,” Robbie nodded, absently.
“Asuka is smoking the streets!” Giffen continued to babble. “All three of the new guys from Japan are running big, but Asuka is a whole other deal, you hear me.”
“I hear you.” Robbie said, he turned towards the energetic hustler, and noticed Giffen wasn’t looking at Robbie anymore.
Asuka was walking through the crowd, making his way towards Robbie and the black charger. The crowd drifted back, giving the two drivers a bit of space.
“Good race,” Asuke said, with a nod of respect. His tone level and low.
“Thanks, slightly better for you,” Robbie replied.
The other man gave a brief smile.
“We race again.” He said, not forming it as a question. He gestured from himself to Robbie.
“Sure. Sign me up.”
Giffen’s large head shifted back and forth, like he was watching a tennis match. He quickly scrambled away, wanting to cash in on this new bit of news as quick as he could.
Robbie ran a second race, made up of the second placers from the first set of races. He took that one easily.
He waited through a half dozen races, until he was up to race Asuka again. The Japanese driver was in at least three of them, winning all three, though one of them was a close one.
Robbie lined up for the race. The third driver was a blue car that had impressed the crowd. Robbie vaguely recognized the bearded driver as another kind of free agent like himself.
This time Asuka was in the middle, with Robbie on the left and the blue car on the right.
They were lined up, revving. All three were like dogs struggling against the lease, wanting to bolt.
Robbie felt that spark of life, that link between him and the black charger. He wouldn’t say the car came alive, but there was…something there, a thread that connected Robbie’s life force and powers to the car. He was unsure if it was a psychic link that allowed him to control the car on another level or something in the car came awake.
Even without it, he loved and was proud of the car, but when the spark kicked in, it went up to a whole other level. He wasn’t sure how to describe it. He didn’t feel like he and the car become one, but it seemed more than a hunter with a really well trained dog.
He felt a warm rush flow through the steering wheel into his palms and up his arms. The roar of the engine settled into a happy purr. The charger was ready and eager to run.
The flag dropped and the cars zoomed down the road, the blue car pushing past Asuka. The blue car swerved, coming within inches of the yellow racer.
Asuka was then forced over, and Robbie unable to get past the yellow car, was forced over as well. His front tire went off the pavement and skidded in the dirt. He stomped on the gas pedal and zoomed back fully onto the road. Robbie fought the bucking steering wheel as he struggled to keep from scraping against the side of the yellow car, as well as pushing to get ahead of it.
In that brief moment, he felt the tingle of supernatural forces and there was that brief blurring of reality and this time when he glanced over at the yellow racer, for a second the Japanese man was gone and a demon drove the car. Robbie caught a glimpse of green leathery skin and a beaked snout, before he shot past the yellow racer, swerved to cut off the blue car and shot past the finish line.
He barely registered the congratulations of other drivers and assorted fans, as he got out of the car. Tommy’s guy with a few happy words pressed his money into his hand and without bothering to count it, Robbie stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans.
The whole time his questioning gaze cut through the crowd to watch the driver of the yellow racer. Asuka, once more a stylish Japanese man in his mid-twenties. Noticing Robbie’s attention, he gave a nod of acknowledgment.
Robbie was unsure if it just a gesture of respect for a good race or if there was something more there. Then the crowd shifted and Asuka was lost to his view.
Robbie nodded vaguely as people talked to him. Giffen sang his praises and a couple girls slipped scraps of paper with phone numbers scribbled on them into his coat pocket.
Robbie told Giffen he’d talk to Tommy about his cut of the gambling winnings and what his ‘work schedule’ would be the rest of the week, then he slid back into the shelter of the black Charger.
He sat for minute, enjoying the quiet and calm amongst the ruckus crowd and constant throb and hum of engines, as well as trying to figure out what had just happened.
Was Asuka a demon or was there more going on?
Robbie was dragged out of his thoughts by the buzzing of his ringtone. It was a message from Mrs. Ramirez.
“Gabe was in bed. He did his schoolwork and let me wash his hair. Since you’re friend said she was going to wait for you, I’m going to head home. I’ll talk to you before Thursday.”
“My friend…?” Robbie muttered. “Who the hell is she talking about…?”
Unsure what was going on, and not wanting to alarm his neighbor, Robbie gunned the charger and sped home.
Recent events, even before he became Ghost Rider, had kept Robbie from being able to develop much of a social circle. He had friends at school and amongst the racing community, but juggling his myriad responsibilities left him little time to hang out and almost no one just stopped by the house.
“Have I been Ghost Rider long enough to even have enemies?” He wondered as he hurried home.
He pulled into the garage and quickly made his way into the house, he could feel the Ghost Rider pushing to emerge, if this was a threat, he should be ready, but the last thing he wanted to do was have a fight break out in his house, with his brother sleeping two rooms over. He held the Rider in and went through the kitchen to the small living room.
She was sitting on the couch, with her back to Robbie. She had dark hair and was wearing a leather jacket
“Do I know you?” He asked, body tense, unsure if he should be ready to fight or dodge an attack.
“No, but I know you,” She said, standing up. “My name is Seer and you could use my help.”
“Sear…?” Robbie muttered. “Like from the cooking shows?”
“No, like an oracle,” She replied, with a blatant ‘I’m dealing with an idiot’ expression. “I am of the Blood, an ancient order dedicated to guarding several mystical objects and locations, as well as watching over and guiding the Ghost Riders.”
“So, are you going to be my ‘Giles’?” Robbie said. “Weird, no one mentioned this bit.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Seer commented.
“Should I have said are you my ‘watcher’? Are you more a ‘Highlander’ person than A ‘Buffy’?”
“Perhaps it would be best if you shut up and just listened,” Seer suggested. “The Blood has watched over the Riders, aiding them if we can. My Grandfather is caretaker to a piece of cursed land and has acted as guide to Dan Ketch. You are new to not only being the host to the power of a Ghost Rider, but the new role you and the others have accepted. “
“Okay, since I’m one of the guys in charge of hitting pause on the end of the world, your Grandfather thinks I should get some training, so we don’t screw up too badly.” Robbie shrugged. “I get that. So, what do we do now?”
“I have spent the day investigating, seeing if there are areas you should be dealing with,” Seer said, rummaging in her coat pocket. She took out a small plastic bag, half filled with a sparkling blue powder. “Do you know what this is?”
“Holy crap!” Robbie exclaimed, lunging forward and grabbing her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”
He steered her around the couch and gently, but firmly pulled her through the house and out into the garage.
“Seriously!” Robbie shouted at Seer. “I am hanging onto custody of my brother by my fingernails and you show up with a bag of Blue! No wonder Danny kicked you over to me! “
“You know about this drug?” She asked, holding it up again.
“Can you stop waving that around?” Robbie snapped. “Yes, I know about Blue! I go to high school and I hang out at outlaw races. It’s the big deal amongst discriminating drug users. Supposed to jack up your body and mind and I have enough problems without some girl claiming to be an oracle that dresses like she just came home from the club bringing it into my house! &*^% lady, is this the kind of help you are planning on giving me?”
For a brief moment, the burning metallic skull face of the Ghost Rider flared into existence. Seer flinched back slightly.
He perched on the hood of the car, his arms crossed, as the weight of the stress of his day and the weariness that came with it piled down on him.
“I did not mean to upset you,” Seer said, her tone puzzled, but tinged with sympathy. “But, I came across this in my travels, scouting my new territory…it has something, unnatural about it. I am not sure if it is mystical in nature or not…”
“Okay, I get it, magical crack,” Robbie nodded, sullenly. “I’ll get right on that…after I track down a demon with a race car, do my homework, take my brother to his therapy appointment…”
“You do need my help,” she said, nodding and frowning in thought. She came and leaned against the car, next to Robbie.
“I need somebody’s help,” Robbie muttered. “Just so &^%$ tired…!”
“Then I will do what I can.” Seer said. “I am sorry, I knew you have just recently taken on the mantle of the Rider. With Dan Ketch, all he needed was help struggling against the demon taking control or advice on the mystical aspects of his crusade, but he rarely spoke to my grandfather about his mortal life.”
“Fighting monsters is easy compared to my ‘mortal life’,” Robbie said, looking at the garage wall as though he could look through it and into the room where his brother slept. “Like when I drive, when I’m Ghost Rider, I have to stop thinking, stop worrying about everything else…”
“Then I shall help you,” Seer said. “I had to look after my Grandfather from a young age.”
“What? You’re going to do the housework and drive Gabe to school?” Robbie asked, puzzled. “You’re from an ancient order of mystical experts?”
“I believe it’s called multi-tasking.” Seer replied, with a faint smile. “In the morning we can devise a plan.”
“Do I want to know where you’re staying?” Robbie asked.
“It’ll be easier if I just stay here,” Seer shrugged, and pushed way from the car. “I left my backpack by the front steps, I’ll go retrieve it. You probably want to sleep.”
“Easier for who…?” He muttered to her retreating back. “You don’t have to explain you to the neighbors, the social worker, the teachers….”
He sighed and, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, headed into the house.
“Not getting any less weird, but maybe life is getting a little easier…?”
# # # # # # # # # #
A realm away a dark figure, leaned forward in his chair, peering into a sphere of fire. Within the sphere was the image of the four Ghost Riders riding off in their four separate directions.
He stroked his beard as he watched and thought.
“There is a bond that brings them together,” He muttered, whether to the bound figure at his feet or to himself was unknown. “But, they live separate lives…that is where we must strike!”
He sat back, using the prone form of his captive as a footrest and reached into his coat pocket and brought out a thin, black cell phone.
“Prepare the book,” He said, without greeting or preamble. “We will need to perform a summoning. Yes, we are moving forward. We will unleash the Seven upon the Riders and sow the soul force that will give us the key to the gates of Hell!”
Next issue: Things get dark as we spend a night in New York City with Danny Ketch.
Author’s note: Yeah, not a lot of Ghost Rider in this one.
Robbie is different in that he is being brought into the M2K-verse, so needed more set up as I had to figure out what I wanted to keep and what to lose or change from the comic version.
Plus, the angst and drama doesn’t come from being Ghost Rider, it’s when he has to deal with the real world and even though I had some plans for a big Ghost Rider scene in this story, I realized I was having more fun writing the drama and just hinting at the supernatural stuff.
Next time, I promise, Robbie will be fighting bad guys and setting things on fire.
The zombies poured out. Wolverine lunged forward, claws slashing through decayed flesh and rotting bone.
“Logan will buy us some time!” Black Widow shouted. “Thor, protect the civilians! Sleepwalker! Ghost Rider! With me!”
She leapt, flipped in the air and drew her guns as she landed on the hood of Ghost Rider’s black racer, as they raced toward the zombie horde.
Robbie Reyes’ brain bounced around, worry over surviving the battle clashed with how impressed he was, as he drove through the crowd, with the Russian spy taking out a zombie with each shot and being slightly distracted at how close her butt was to his windshield.
He shifted and cranked the wheel; the car skidded and plowed sideways into the advancing zombies, sending body parts and gravel flying.
The gaunt, green-skinned hero hovered above the fray, sending eyebeams blazing through any zombies that attempted to surround the supernaturally fueled car, allowing them to get ever closer to Loki.
The Asgardian glowered at the trio of heroes, raised his staff and unleashed a bolt of mystical energy at them.
The Ghost Rider’s car halted; like it had struck a brick wall and both the driver and his lethal, yet shapely, hood ornament went tumbling to the ground.
Dazed by his trip through the windshield, Robbie struggled to clear his vision and get up off the ground. Black Widow, bleeding from a harsh gash down one leg, gritted her teeth and kept firing up until the point that her guns clicked empty and she was overrun by the undead.
“No…!” Ghost Rider moaned, fighting past the pain and getting to his feet. He raised his hands and flames burst from them, manifesting themselves as two long chains, burning white hot and each tipped with a sickle.
He swung them, mowing done dozens of zombies with each swing. He could not find either Black Widow or Wolverine, but was able to clear a path to Loki.
Sleepwalker floated down, and hovered by Ghost Rider’s side.
“I must go now,” he intoned. “We will meet again, Robert Reyes.”
“What…?” Ghost Rider said, watching confused, as the hooded figure flew away. So, he wasn’t paying attention in time to block the blast that struck him in the chest.
Ghost Rider went flying backwards, landing on his back, his body wracked with pain and struggling to catch his breath.
A boot heel stomped down on his solar plexus.
“You and I will also speak again,” Loki said, leaning in. His eyes blazed with crimson fire. “And when we do I hope you have…completed your algebra assignment, Mr. Reyes…!”
“Huh…? What…?” Robbie Reyes stammered, startling awake.
First he noticed was that the army of zombies had been replaced with his second period algebra class and that they were all looking at him.
Instead of a mystical staff of power, his teacher, Mrs. Van Dell was pointing at him with a pencil.
She had the same arrogant, disdainful look on her face as Loki though.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Mr. Reyes,” his guidance counselor, Mr. Doyle said, sitting down at his desk. “I don’t usually see you this early in the week.”
He looked down at the papers on his desk.
“Fell asleep in class and was rude and disruptive.” He read and then glanced up at Robbie. “I know Mrs. Van Dell can be…let’s say, abrasive, but this, along with last week’s absences don’t look good on your record.”
“Really?” Robbie grumbled, glaring at the older man. “You’ve got kids dealing drugs in the parking lot and I’m the one hurting the school’s rep?”
“Look, Mr. Reyes…”
“No, I don’t want to look!” Robbie interrupted, leaning forward. “With my folks gone, I’ve got custody of my younger brother, but keeping the house and taking care of everything Gabe needs means we are going through my Mom’s savings and the insurance money like crazy. I’ve got to be a ‘responsible adult’ to keep Gabe out of a foster home. Which means keeping my grades up, being a parent and having to get a job. I’m sorry if my snoring is depriving anyone of a quality education, but with everything I’m doing, and I’m doing better in that class than most of the ‘undisruptive’ students you think somebody here could cut me a break or maybe actually help me?”
Robbie slumped back in his chair, arms crossed tightly. He was sure that he had just caused himself a whole bunch more trouble, but all of the stress had been building in him these past couple weeks. Turning into some kind of supernatural super hero and then being dragged off and told he now had to help avert the apocalypse hadn’t helped his stress levels or sleep schedule.
Robbie knew Mr. Doyle wasn’t a bad guy and didn’t deserve to get snapped at, so he braced himself for the lecture and at least a couple days suspension that were coming his way. On the bright side, it would mean he could get some sleep.
“Maybe you’re right, Mr. Reyes…Robert,” Mr. Doyle said.
“What?”
“Your grades are solid, last week is the only unexcused absence you’ve had this year and maybe, we could do something to help.”
“Um…really?” Robbie asked, unsure if he should be relieved or if he was being set up.
“This school has its problems, but when we can step up and help our students, especially those are not just in need of help, but asking for it, we should. You’ve taken on more than anyone your age should have to and you’ve shown nothing but a willingness to do the work and take the responsibility.”
“So…uh…what now?” Robbie asked, relaxing and loosening up his arms.
“I’ll have a word with Mrs. Van Dell,” Mr. Doyle said. “I think under the circumstances, the ‘stern lecture’ I gave you has put you back on the straight and narrow and no detention is required. This far into the semester, I’m not sure what else we can do, except talk to your teachers, and see about having any study halls you have turned into free periods, allow you to leave campus if you need to. How does that sound?”
“That…um…that sounds great,” Robbie said. “That would help. I’m…look, I’m sorry, I snapped. You’ve been pretty cool to me and all, but…things have just piled on and it’s been a crazy week.”
“I can imagine,” Mr. Doyle smiled.
“Yeah, probably not,” Robbie said, thinking of his recent fight with an army of mole men, as he got to his feet. “Thanks. Okay, if I go? I promise I’ll stay awake in western civ.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Mr. Doyle said, standing up and offering his hand.
# # # # # # # # # #
The rest of the day was uneventful. He got through the rest of his classes, awake and drama free.
Soon, the day was over and he was racing to get to his car, so he could pick up his brother and have a couple hours with him, before he had to get to work. He was out of the building and within sight of the black Dodge-charger that was the ‘secret identity’ of Ghost Rider’s hellcar, when three teenage boys in baggy shorts, wife beaters, a couple of garish chains and the prerequisite backwards baseball caps of the Los Angeles street thug got in his way.
Guerra and his boys were the poster children for ‘disruptive and rude’ at the high school and they had decided that if life wasn’t shoveling enough crap on Robbie’s head they’d do their best to take up the slack.
“Hey, Tino, Sleeping beauty is awake!” Guerra exclaimed, talking louder than he needed to, as he was only inches away from Robbie’s face.
“Yeah, must have gotten the prince to kiss him,” Tino, a shorter, husky kid chortled. He then shared a fist bump with the third member of the trio, who not having a witticism to share, merely laughed.
“Okay,” Robbie said, moving to get past them. “Funny stuff, but I guess you’ve got a busy afternoon, shaking down middle-school kids so you’ll have drinking money, so I’ll talk to you later.”
“Where the &*^%$ you think you going?” Guerra snarled, grabbing hold of Robbie’s shoulder.
Robbie spun, glaring at the other boy. He could feel the flames, just below his skin. The Ghost Rider wanted out, wanted to deal with this problem its own special, fire-blasting way.
Robbie took a breath.
“I think I’ve got a job to go to and a family to take care of,” He said, struggling to keep his voice even.
The other boy stopped, fist raised. Something in Robbie’s eyes told him, there was more going on here than he knew and for the briefest of moments, he felt a spark of fear of the thinner, studious boy.
“Yeah, you go do that,” Guerra muttered darkly. “Go take care of the little retard.”
Robbie turned and walked to his car, breathing heavily, as he felt the Ghost Rider beating his fists on the wall of his soul, barely held in check.
“That…that was not good,” He muttered to himself as he drove away. “I get that it’s hard to be afraid of those wanna-be Eminem’s after literary going to hell and back, but what was that *&^%$ with the Ghost Rider? Guerra and his boys are freakin’ douches, but that should not be setting off the Ghost Rider. Supposed to be about punishing the big bads, not just any a-hole that irritates me.”
He shook his head, glanced over at the dashboard, as though the answer might be there. The power that made him the Ghost Rider and been infused not just to his body and soul, but his Dad’s old car as well.
There were times when Robbie felt that it wasn’t some mystical energy that let him control the car practically by thought alone, but that the car had a hellfire scorched soul of its own and was in a weird way alive.
It wasn’t just a car any longer, it was almost like some kind of wild beast that he had tamed, that it kept it’s feral nature in check, recognizing Robbie as the alpha male.
“Man, I gotta get a date,” He muttered. “Heck, I’d settle for an hour just sitting talking boring, normal crap with someone who doesn’t have magic super powers. I used to do that.”
He drove slowly, giving himself some time to shake off the stress and the uncertainty and then pulled up in front of his younger brother’s school.
Gabe was sitting in his wheelchair by the front door. One of the teachers was with him.
“Hello, Mrs. Germer,” He said, getting out. “Hey, Gabe-monster!”
“Robbie!” His brother called back, raising his thin arms.
The two brothers hugged and for a second, every bit of stress and worry was gone.
“Okay, man, I gotta get you home. Tell Mrs. Germer you’ll see her tomorrow.”
They said their good-byes, Robbie thanking the teacher for the extra help she’d given Gabe last week, when he hadn’t been around and then they were in the black car and driving home.
“I didn’t know if you’d be home today,” Gabe said. He was a thin boy, small for his age and suffered from a nerve disorder that left him with little control of his limbs. Buried in that head was a big brain, but Gabe had to struggle to get his thoughts out or to get his body to obey any of his commands.
“Come on, man,” Robbie told him. “Monday is Mac and cheese day and I love Mac and cheese!”
“Me too,” Gabe nodded. “You home to stay?”
“I think so, Gabe,” He replied. “I gotta work tonight, so Mrs. Ramirez will get you to bed, but we’ll have Mac and cheese, you can tell me about your school work and maybe we can watch some cartoons before I have to head out.”
“Pokémon?” Gabe asked.
“Again?!” Robbie exclaimed in mock-protest. “Brock is never going to get a girlfriend!”
“Team Rocket blasting off again!” Gabe laughed.
“I missed you, bro,” Robbie said, reaching over to muss his brother’s hair.
# # # # # # # # # #
A couple hours later, his belly full of Mac and cheese, his little brother in bed, being read to by their older neighbor, Robbie changed into an all-black ensemble, jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and jacket and heading off to work.
He felt a slight twinge of guilt, talking up, how he had to work to pay the bills, as he got most of the money from street racing, and the rest by running errands for Tommy G, a small time hustler, far down on L.A.’s criminal ladder, who actually referred to himself as a ‘legitimate businessman’ and would even do the air quote fingers when he said it.
It wasn’t like he was slaving away at the fry machine, but he also had not gotten so stupid as to get into dealing or running with a gang.
He had made a promise to himself that, come summer, when school was out, he’d find a real job, something solid and boring.
Until then, racing was keeping him and Gabe in the house and the lights on.
He pulled up to a small, dark, nondescript garage. He flashed his lights and waited a minute, until one of the bay doors opened.
Inside were another four cars, and a dozen assorted teenagers, low-level hustlers and a couple guys that looked like accountants.
Robbie nodded to a couple in greeting and then made his way to the office in the back.
Tommy’s office looked liked it had been decorated in the 70’s and he had just been too busy to update it. It was all fake wood paneling, pea-green threadbare carpet and a red leather sofa with a sag in the middle so severe you were practically sitting on the floor.
“Roberto!” Tommy shouted from his desk. He offered a pudgy, be-ringed hand for a fist bump and then waved Robbie over to the sofa. “Could have used you last week, man! T.T. from south side got himself a couple new kids and the Japs are running this guy….”
“We talked about this before, Tommy,” Robbie said, perching on the arm of the sofa nearest to the desk. “You want to give me healthcare, then I’ll go fulltime on the payroll. I’m here now. What’d you need tonight?”
“I got couple things be good for you,” Tommy said, rummaging through the piles of papers on the desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper. “Three good races happening tonight. If I may make a suggestion, take the west road one. Sasagawa’s got this new guy that’s getting a lot of notice.”
Robbie looked over the list of races. The one Tommy was telling him about did not have the most riding on it, but if Tommy was nervous, maybe he should check it out.
Robbie was not a flashy driver. His car wasn’t tricked out, and he didn’t get into a lot of the showing off and chest-thumping BS a lot of other drivers did. He was good enough that he made steady money and had a reputation. The people who came to see and bet on the races knew him, but girls or gamblers never swarmed him.
Tommy’s less than impressive reputation actually kept him under the radar of the bigger gangs or gangsters.
“Yeah, I’m there.” Robbie nodded. “I need gas.”
“You got it.” Tommy beamed.
# # # # # # # # # #
Buried amongst the epic, snaking labyrinth that is the Los Angeles highway system are numerous stretches cut off due to the near constant construction.
The city’s underground racing community hunted down these neglected and abandoned stretches of road and had built up a collection of ‘race tracks’, getting word out through the grapevine and race times and locations were passed to those in the know.
Robbie had no clue how they did it or managed to keep track of them or how the information got passed around. He just talked to Tommy and then picked a race to attend. The details weren’t important to him, just that the money kept him going.
Robbie loved cars and loved racing. While he didn’t over-analyze it, it was most likely the thing that kept him sane when his mom died and he found himself thrown off the deep end into an ocean of adult responsibility.
For those moments when he was racing, he didn’t have to worry about his grades, or Gabe or how he was going to pay the bills.
It was just about keeping the car on the road and going faster than the other guy.
Robbie had driven on west road before, but even so had to watch the road and keep an eye out. He spotted the construction signs. Flashed his lights and when he saw the figure come jogging out of the shadows, rolled his window down.
“Driving for Tommy G.” He told the obvious gang-banger who thought an orange plastic vest and ‘yield’ sign would magically transform him into a believable city employee.
The guard nodded, spared a second for a glance at the car and then waved Robbie on.
He slowly drove along, going from uneven, dug up pavement, to smooth road, crowded with other cars, gamblers, race enthusiasts and assorted nightlife people.
Robbie nodded greetings to a couple guys, touched base with Struges, a skinny African-American who was a fixture at most races. Robbie was unsure if he ran the race, as he seemed perpetually on the verge of dozing off, or if he just kept an eye on things, but he was the guy to talk to.
He also found the guy who handled Tommy’s bets and touched base with him.
There were nine drivers, so the plan was three races, three cars in each one.
After that, depending on who won and whose car made it through undamaged it became a bit of a mix and match. Drivers could challenge each other, or just choose to race again to show off to the crowd, or to try and rake in a cut of whatever side bets were going on.
Robbie got a set fee per race and then a small percentage of whatever Tommy’s people pulled in from the betting pool. His plan was to drive in one of the main races and then maybe another two, depending on how things went.
He did that three nights a week, and then a couple nights of running errands for Tommy, and the bills were paid.
He was set for the second race, so he had a couple minutes to check out the crowd, talk with a few friends and scout out the other drivers.
It was easy to spot one of the new Japanese drivers that Tommy was interested in. He was skinny and wore a leather jacket and looked like some weird hybrid of 50’s greaser and Asian pop star.
His car was a custom yellow racer, tricked out and buffed to a shine that nearly blinded you if you looked at it straight on.
There were two other regular drivers that Robbie knew could make him work for his money, but those three were the only ones he felt he had to worry about.
Soon, the three cars lined up. Robbie was in the middle, with the yellow racers on his left and a beat up purple Porsche turbo on his right.
On one side of the road, a stocky Hispanic was shouting out the rules, while on the other a hot Asian ‘flag girl’ in denim cut-offs and a rhinestone bikini top held the yellow cloth that was the makeshift starters flag over her head.
All three cars revved, waiting, their drivers trying to not appear too anxious or eager.
The flag was dropped and all three cars took off like bullets from a gun.
The yellow racer shot immediately into the lead, with Robbie and the purple turbo a hairsbreadth behind.
Robbie let the turbo creep up on the racer, taking a couple seconds to watch and get a feel for the other drivers.
He nodded to himself, shifted and shot forward, inching past the porche and coming even with the yellow racer.
The other car drifted over a few inches, whether on purpose to nudge Robbie over or as a wobble, as the Asian driver seem to struggle to keep the car under control.
In that brief instant Robbie felt that familiar tingle. An itch that started at the back of his head and crept down the base of his skull down through his spine, that inner radar that told him that ‘something wicked this way comes’.
He caught something out of the corner of his eye, reality seemed to blur and skip for a second and that was more than enough for the yellow racer to shoot past him and cross the finish line first.
Robbie rolled to a stop, any frustration on coming in second pushed aside by confusion. He was still getting a handle on his new powers, but his supernatural radar was solid and reliable. There was something supernatural going on in that race, something about the Japanese racer in the yellow racer.
He got out of his car, absently acknowledging some friends and well-wishers from the crowd, keeping his eyes on the yellow racer.
It had to be him that had set off his senses; a regular that Robbie knew from other races drove the purple car.
Robbie leaned against his car, studying the other driver, while the crowd drifted around him.
A chubby white kid in the traditional wanna-be gangsta uniform of white tee shirt, backwards baseball cap and heavy gold chain came up to Robbie. He was Giffen, one of Tommy’s guys that hung out at these races, handling side bets and spreading any rumors that helped get Tommy’s drivers attention.
“Damn, bro!” He exclaimed. “He beat you by an inch!”
“Yeah,” Robbie nodded, absently.
“Asuka is smoking the streets!” Giffen continued to babble. “All three of the new guys from Japan are running big, but Asuka is a whole other deal, you hear me.”
“I hear you.” Robbie said, he turned towards the energetic hustler, and noticed Giffen wasn’t looking at Robbie anymore.
Asuka was walking through the crowd, making his way towards Robbie and the black charger. The crowd drifted back, giving the two drivers a bit of space.
“Good race,” Asuke said, with a nod of respect. His tone level and low.
“Thanks, slightly better for you,” Robbie replied.
The other man gave a brief smile.
“We race again.” He said, not forming it as a question. He gestured from himself to Robbie.
“Sure. Sign me up.”
Giffen’s large head shifted back and forth, like he was watching a tennis match. He quickly scrambled away, wanting to cash in on this new bit of news as quick as he could.
Robbie ran a second race, made up of the second placers from the first set of races. He took that one easily.
He waited through a half dozen races, until he was up to race Asuka again. The Japanese driver was in at least three of them, winning all three, though one of them was a close one.
Robbie lined up for the race. The third driver was a blue car that had impressed the crowd. Robbie vaguely recognized the bearded driver as another kind of free agent like himself.
This time Asuka was in the middle, with Robbie on the left and the blue car on the right.
They were lined up, revving. All three were like dogs struggling against the lease, wanting to bolt.
Robbie felt that spark of life, that link between him and the black charger. He wouldn’t say the car came alive, but there was…something there, a thread that connected Robbie’s life force and powers to the car. He was unsure if it was a psychic link that allowed him to control the car on another level or something in the car came awake.
Even without it, he loved and was proud of the car, but when the spark kicked in, it went up to a whole other level. He wasn’t sure how to describe it. He didn’t feel like he and the car become one, but it seemed more than a hunter with a really well trained dog.
He felt a warm rush flow through the steering wheel into his palms and up his arms. The roar of the engine settled into a happy purr. The charger was ready and eager to run.
The flag dropped and the cars zoomed down the road, the blue car pushing past Asuka. The blue car swerved, coming within inches of the yellow racer.
Asuka was then forced over, and Robbie unable to get past the yellow car, was forced over as well. His front tire went off the pavement and skidded in the dirt. He stomped on the gas pedal and zoomed back fully onto the road. Robbie fought the bucking steering wheel as he struggled to keep from scraping against the side of the yellow car, as well as pushing to get ahead of it.
In that brief moment, he felt the tingle of supernatural forces and there was that brief blurring of reality and this time when he glanced over at the yellow racer, for a second the Japanese man was gone and a demon drove the car. Robbie caught a glimpse of green leathery skin and a beaked snout, before he shot past the yellow racer, swerved to cut off the blue car and shot past the finish line.
He barely registered the congratulations of other drivers and assorted fans, as he got out of the car. Tommy’s guy with a few happy words pressed his money into his hand and without bothering to count it, Robbie stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans.
The whole time his questioning gaze cut through the crowd to watch the driver of the yellow racer. Asuka, once more a stylish Japanese man in his mid-twenties. Noticing Robbie’s attention, he gave a nod of acknowledgment.
Robbie was unsure if it just a gesture of respect for a good race or if there was something more there. Then the crowd shifted and Asuka was lost to his view.
Robbie nodded vaguely as people talked to him. Giffen sang his praises and a couple girls slipped scraps of paper with phone numbers scribbled on them into his coat pocket.
Robbie told Giffen he’d talk to Tommy about his cut of the gambling winnings and what his ‘work schedule’ would be the rest of the week, then he slid back into the shelter of the black Charger.
He sat for minute, enjoying the quiet and calm amongst the ruckus crowd and constant throb and hum of engines, as well as trying to figure out what had just happened.
Was Asuka a demon or was there more going on?
Robbie was dragged out of his thoughts by the buzzing of his ringtone. It was a message from Mrs. Ramirez.
“Gabe was in bed. He did his schoolwork and let me wash his hair. Since you’re friend said she was going to wait for you, I’m going to head home. I’ll talk to you before Thursday.”
“My friend…?” Robbie muttered. “Who the hell is she talking about…?”
Unsure what was going on, and not wanting to alarm his neighbor, Robbie gunned the charger and sped home.
Recent events, even before he became Ghost Rider, had kept Robbie from being able to develop much of a social circle. He had friends at school and amongst the racing community, but juggling his myriad responsibilities left him little time to hang out and almost no one just stopped by the house.
“Have I been Ghost Rider long enough to even have enemies?” He wondered as he hurried home.
He pulled into the garage and quickly made his way into the house, he could feel the Ghost Rider pushing to emerge, if this was a threat, he should be ready, but the last thing he wanted to do was have a fight break out in his house, with his brother sleeping two rooms over. He held the Rider in and went through the kitchen to the small living room.
She was sitting on the couch, with her back to Robbie. She had dark hair and was wearing a leather jacket
“Do I know you?” He asked, body tense, unsure if he should be ready to fight or dodge an attack.
“No, but I know you,” She said, standing up. “My name is Seer and you could use my help.”
“Sear…?” Robbie muttered. “Like from the cooking shows?”
“No, like an oracle,” She replied, with a blatant ‘I’m dealing with an idiot’ expression. “I am of the Blood, an ancient order dedicated to guarding several mystical objects and locations, as well as watching over and guiding the Ghost Riders.”
“So, are you going to be my ‘Giles’?” Robbie said. “Weird, no one mentioned this bit.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Seer commented.
“Should I have said are you my ‘watcher’? Are you more a ‘Highlander’ person than A ‘Buffy’?”
“Perhaps it would be best if you shut up and just listened,” Seer suggested. “The Blood has watched over the Riders, aiding them if we can. My Grandfather is caretaker to a piece of cursed land and has acted as guide to Dan Ketch. You are new to not only being the host to the power of a Ghost Rider, but the new role you and the others have accepted. “
“Okay, since I’m one of the guys in charge of hitting pause on the end of the world, your Grandfather thinks I should get some training, so we don’t screw up too badly.” Robbie shrugged. “I get that. So, what do we do now?”
“I have spent the day investigating, seeing if there are areas you should be dealing with,” Seer said, rummaging in her coat pocket. She took out a small plastic bag, half filled with a sparkling blue powder. “Do you know what this is?”
“Holy crap!” Robbie exclaimed, lunging forward and grabbing her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”
He steered her around the couch and gently, but firmly pulled her through the house and out into the garage.
“Seriously!” Robbie shouted at Seer. “I am hanging onto custody of my brother by my fingernails and you show up with a bag of Blue! No wonder Danny kicked you over to me! “
“You know about this drug?” She asked, holding it up again.
“Can you stop waving that around?” Robbie snapped. “Yes, I know about Blue! I go to high school and I hang out at outlaw races. It’s the big deal amongst discriminating drug users. Supposed to jack up your body and mind and I have enough problems without some girl claiming to be an oracle that dresses like she just came home from the club bringing it into my house! &*^% lady, is this the kind of help you are planning on giving me?”
For a brief moment, the burning metallic skull face of the Ghost Rider flared into existence. Seer flinched back slightly.
He perched on the hood of the car, his arms crossed, as the weight of the stress of his day and the weariness that came with it piled down on him.
“I did not mean to upset you,” Seer said, her tone puzzled, but tinged with sympathy. “But, I came across this in my travels, scouting my new territory…it has something, unnatural about it. I am not sure if it is mystical in nature or not…”
“Okay, I get it, magical crack,” Robbie nodded, sullenly. “I’ll get right on that…after I track down a demon with a race car, do my homework, take my brother to his therapy appointment…”
“You do need my help,” she said, nodding and frowning in thought. She came and leaned against the car, next to Robbie.
“I need somebody’s help,” Robbie muttered. “Just so &^%$ tired…!”
“Then I will do what I can.” Seer said. “I am sorry, I knew you have just recently taken on the mantle of the Rider. With Dan Ketch, all he needed was help struggling against the demon taking control or advice on the mystical aspects of his crusade, but he rarely spoke to my grandfather about his mortal life.”
“Fighting monsters is easy compared to my ‘mortal life’,” Robbie said, looking at the garage wall as though he could look through it and into the room where his brother slept. “Like when I drive, when I’m Ghost Rider, I have to stop thinking, stop worrying about everything else…”
“Then I shall help you,” Seer said. “I had to look after my Grandfather from a young age.”
“What? You’re going to do the housework and drive Gabe to school?” Robbie asked, puzzled. “You’re from an ancient order of mystical experts?”
“I believe it’s called multi-tasking.” Seer replied, with a faint smile. “In the morning we can devise a plan.”
“Do I want to know where you’re staying?” Robbie asked.
“It’ll be easier if I just stay here,” Seer shrugged, and pushed way from the car. “I left my backpack by the front steps, I’ll go retrieve it. You probably want to sleep.”
“Easier for who…?” He muttered to her retreating back. “You don’t have to explain you to the neighbors, the social worker, the teachers….”
He sighed and, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, headed into the house.
“Not getting any less weird, but maybe life is getting a little easier…?”
# # # # # # # # # #
A realm away a dark figure, leaned forward in his chair, peering into a sphere of fire. Within the sphere was the image of the four Ghost Riders riding off in their four separate directions.
He stroked his beard as he watched and thought.
“There is a bond that brings them together,” He muttered, whether to the bound figure at his feet or to himself was unknown. “But, they live separate lives…that is where we must strike!”
He sat back, using the prone form of his captive as a footrest and reached into his coat pocket and brought out a thin, black cell phone.
“Prepare the book,” He said, without greeting or preamble. “We will need to perform a summoning. Yes, we are moving forward. We will unleash the Seven upon the Riders and sow the soul force that will give us the key to the gates of Hell!”
Next issue: Things get dark as we spend a night in New York City with Danny Ketch.
Author’s note: Yeah, not a lot of Ghost Rider in this one.
Robbie is different in that he is being brought into the M2K-verse, so needed more set up as I had to figure out what I wanted to keep and what to lose or change from the comic version.
Plus, the angst and drama doesn’t come from being Ghost Rider, it’s when he has to deal with the real world and even though I had some plans for a big Ghost Rider scene in this story, I realized I was having more fun writing the drama and just hinting at the supernatural stuff.
Next time, I promise, Robbie will be fighting bad guys and setting things on fire.