Issue #7 by Travis Hiltz
March 2018
March 2018
"Coming of the Seven"
Part One - Pieces on the Board
The punch caught Ghost Rider in the chest.
Buried deep within his demonic psyche, Dan Ketch could hear bones crack.
He flew backwards through the air. Luckily, New York City sanitation workers can be fairly negligent and there was a large mound of trash bags to cushion his landing.
Anger and flame burst from him, as Ghost Rider climbed to his feet, incinerating the trash.
He clenched his blazing fists and ground his teeth until he raised sparks, as the beast that had attacked him stomped out from the shadows of the bridge.
He’d come here, to one of Brooklyn’s less fashionable neighborhoods, as a favor to his new potential ally, Doctor Druid. Dan came to investigate what sounded like rumors of a troll living under a bridge. He’d joked about borrowing three billy goats to lure it out. All skepticism vanished after the first blow.
The creature stood a good seven feet tall, its body covered in a light coating of tan fur. Bestial features were surrounded by a tawny mane and dark brown, bison-like horns rested on its brow.
The ‘troll’ was clad in a tunic, short kilt, boots and wristbands of dark brown leather.
It clenched fists the size of Ghost Rider’s head as it approached.
“Submit, demon,” The creature growled. “Your death is not what Brutacus seeks!”
“Which puts you at a disadvantage,” Ghost Rider replied, grimly. “As I have no such concerns for you!”
He flung himself forward, fists pummeling the beast man…to little effect.
Brutacus stood, defiantly, as the skeletal hero vented his anger.
After a half dozen blows, the strongest reaction from the brute was a slight wince and several fist-shaped burn marks on his tunic. Brutacus then reached down, grabbed two handfuls of Ghost Rider’s leather jacket and began to repeatedly slam him against the nearest steel support beam.
Needless to say, the battle had attracted a far sized crowd.
Most of them immediately fled to safety, a few of the more jaded and hardy bystanders merely moved a safe distance away, got out their phones and began taking pictures.
After the third time Ghost Rider was slammed against the metal pillar, Dan Ketch had a sliver of hope that maybe a couple of them might be calling the police or the Avengers.
He clapped his flaming hands against the sides of Bruticcus’ head, which only caused a brief pause and an annoyed snarl.
Several cop cars screeched to a halt nearby, but the man-beast ignored their shouted warnings as well as their warning shots. Several bullets struck Ghost Rider, as the officers were unsure which monster might be the ‘good guy’.
Ghost Rider’s blows went from forceful to desperate and very quickly to feeble. His hands blazed, scorching Brutacus’ fur, but the monstrous attacker merely gritted his teeth against the pain and continued his attack.
Ten minutes after the battle had begun, Ghost Rider hung limply in the monster’s grip. His flame flickered and then went out, leaving a battered skeleton in black biker’s leathers.
Brutacus pulled back one massive hand and held it in front of the skull. Within seconds golden vapors flowed like water from a tap from the spirit of vengeance’s mouth and eye-sockets. It formed into an egg-sized sphere that Bruticcus clutched with surprising gentleness in a hand capable of such powerful violence.
Ghost Rider’s features faded away, leaving the bruised form of Danny Ketch, who was promptly tossed away.
Brutacus spun on the uneasy police officers, who retreated back behind the questionable shelter of their patrol cars.
Holding aloft the glowing sphere, Brutacus summoned a portal of similar color. The massive creature stepped through it and was gone.
Police and bystanders looked around in confusion.
# # # # #
The outlaw racing community thrives around Los Angeles and through it Robbie Reyes was able to supplement his income enough to keep a roof over his and his little brother’s heads.
Most nights.
Tonight, concerns about juggling all his responsibilities, the motivations of his new nanny/occult consultant and the possibility that a rival driver was also the host for a demon was understandably messing with his focus.
Three races and he had barely been able to creep into third.
The hostility of the crowd, not to mention the disapproval of all the local gambling circles was not helping his mood.
If he couldn’t pull off a win tonight, he’d be lucky to earn gas money home, let alone avoid a beating from his disgruntled ‘fans’ and ‘sponsors’.
This track was a little longer then usual and snaked through a construction site.
Robbie was able to keep focus and held onto a solid number two-spot.
Due to the roadwork, the track would switch from dirt to pavement. Robbie seemed to be one of the few drivers not thrown off by that, and it was a big part of why he’d crept up to the front of the pack.
The next sharp turn was dirt, but Robbie knew if he could hug it, it was only a few feet to asphalt and there was a good chance he could shoot past the orange racer that was his main competitor.
He skidded round the turn, holding close to the far edge of the curve, slid past a blue car with inches to spare and immediately fish tailed when he hit the pavement as it was suddenly slick with water.
All three lead cars struggled to stay straight, as this section narrowed and the cars behind them would ram them if they slowed down at all.
Robbie swerved, his Dodge charger drawing sparks off the orange racer. As soon as the track widened, he moved to the far edge of the track, barely ahead of a collision by the two cars right behind him.
Just as he was about to race past a rival in a blue camero, something hit the passenger side of the black Charger with the force of a battering ram, driving Robbie off the pavement and nearly into the ditch.
Visibility was bad, as all the windows were suddenly beaded with moisture. Robbie felt the impact of a car clipping his rear fender, before he skidded, and pulled up onto the shoulder.
“It’s not raining…?” He muttered, struggling with the steering. “Where the hell is all this water coming from?”
He climbed out of the car and tossed his helmet onto the front seat.
Across the road, two cars had sideswiped reach other and then collided with the embankment, their drivers struggling out, uninjured but every bit as confused, shaken and pissed off as Robbie was.
Another car had had its windshield fractured by the mysterious water cannon that seemed to be attacking the racers and soon there were two more cars blocking half the track.
A moment of concentration and Robbie transformed into Ghost Rider while on the move. He lunged and jammed a shoulder against the trunk end of one of the cars, pushing it out of the way just enough for the oncoming cars to squeeze by with no more damage than scrapping some paint off the stopped vehicles.
He leapt back to avoid getting hit and hopefully ducking out of site, when a battering ram of water struck him full in the chest and sent him flying back across the road.
He hit the side of the Dodge charger and slumped to the ground, the wind of the passing cars whipping about the flames surrounding his skull.
“What the…?” He muttered, shaking his head and getting unsteadily to his feet.
A second blast of water grazed his side before striking his car.
Ghost Rider lunged to the side and his fists ignited into balls of fire.
“Come on!” He shouted into the darkness. “Let’s get this over with!”
He scanned the top of the embankment, knowing that somewhere up there was where the attack had come from.
“You going to hide all night, Water Wizard!”
“What…?” Replied a raspy voice from the shadows.
The figure that stepped into the light was tall and lithe; its skin was green and scaly. Its nostrils mere slits above a wide mouth and it sported a translucent fin on top of its head.
The attacker was clad in a blue leotard and thigh high boots. Instead of a right hand it sported a prosthetic that resembled a large hose nozzle.
“You do not face some feeble ‘super villain’!” The green man hissed. “But, a warrior! I am Hydron!”
“Okay, so…not Water Wizard,” Ghost rider muttered, unsure how he felt about that. A crowd was starting to gather. Not just the other racers, but track organizers and parts of the crowd concerned over the stall in the race.
Ghost Rider ran at the fish-man, fists clenched.
Hydron leapt down the embankment to face him.
Ghost Rider dodged his next blast of water and then caught Hydron with a fiery uppercut to the stomach. Hydron staggered back and swung his water gun hand.
Ghost Rider dodged the blow, but took a blast of water to the face.
His skull sizzled. The youngest Ghost Rider flailed wildly. One punch caught Hydron in the shoulder the other was a wide miss.
Robbie knew he had to keep his attacker off guard until his vision cleared. That plan lasted until a kick to the back of his head drove him to the pavement.
Robbie was struggling to raise himself up when an unrelenting blast of water slammed him back against the road.
Much as he fought against the torrent, Ghost Rider couldn’t do more then raise himself up an inch or two before being slammed back down. His body trembled with the effort and the flames haloing his skull and fists quickly went from blazing to sporadic flickers.
His second attacker landed in between his shoulder blades, driving him back down for the final time.
Ghost Rider’s limp body was kicked over onto his back, while his two attackers stood triumphantly over it.
The milling crowd, unsure what had occurred, stood around, bets were paid off, pictures were taken but they seemed more concerned with the extra entertainment value they had received and moving their cars before the police took notice.
Hydron was joined by a tall, athletic woman in a scarlet, off the shoulder dress and an elaborate tiara that gave her the appearance of having antlers.
Her dress was slit to the thigh, revealing long legs that ended in odd hoof-like feet.
“I needed no help dealing with this child, Gazelle.” Hydron grumbled.
“And I am sure you even believe that,” She replied, straddling the senseless spirit of Vengeance’s chest. She held her long fingered hand above his skull. Tendrils of liquidy golden light flowed from Robbie Reyes mouth.
Once Gazelle had accumulated a handful of golden light, she gracefully stood up and smiled triumphantly at her green, scaly partner.
Between there magical exit, the aftermath of the multiple car crashes and arrival of the LAPD, there was more then enough chaos to allow Robbie to crawl back to his car and collapse. He lay limply across the back seat. Too weak to do more then hope no one spotted him.
Once the police had moved on, Robbie managed to crawl into the driver’s seat.
“Come on,” He muttered, feebly. “Get…get me outta here…take me home.”
The black Dodger purred to life and sped up the embankment and into the night.
# # # # #
The night sky, above the desert, was a riot of stars.
The white-clad, masked cowboy, the Ghost Rider galloped across the sandy landscape.
Ghost Rider drew his horse, Phantom to a halt when he spotted a coyote, silhouetted against the full moon, standing a top a dune.
“Not again,” He muttered, dismounting and walking his horse towards the dune.
Man and animal stood for several moments, taking each other’s measure.
“You again?” Ghost Rider sighed.
“Do you treat all your friends this way, Slade?” The coyote asked in reply.
“Are we friends?” The ancient cowboy asked. “Seems like a friend would give me a straight answer occasionally.”
The coyote yipped in its version of a chuckle.
“I am the least of your troubles, Slade,” He said, with a shake of his head.
“What are my troubles?” Ghost Rider asked, arms crossed.
“Him, for one,” Coyote replied, nodding his head over Ghost Rider’s right shoulder.
Slade spun. Down the sandy hill, where it meet the rough dirt road stood what he thought was a man.
He was medium height, stocky in build and from head to toe yellow. Whether it was a costume or his skin Slade couldn’t guess. He had short yellow horns sticking out from his temples and a row of red spikes ran down both sides of his muscular arms and legs.
Slade strode down the dune towards the stranger.
“This’ll be interesting,” Coyote muttered, settling down to watch.
Once he got closer, Ghost Rider could see that the yellow being had pupil-less red eyes and no visible mouth.
“Rider,” The new arrival rasped, surprising Slade that he could talk at all. “Come, face me! I, Thornn, challenge you!”
He stood, arms akimbo, glaring down the dirt track at the spectral cowboy.
“Really?” Ghost Rider said, casually untying the holsters on his white gun belt. “A showdown in the middle of the street? Son, I help invent this sort of thing. Doesn’t seem a fair gunfight, as I’m the only one who seems to have bothered to bring guns….”
“I need to carry no weapons,” Thornn growled. “I am a weapon!”
He swiftly raised his arms and a half dozen of the red spikes shot off, flying like tiny missiles at the ghostly gunslinger.
Just as quickly, Ghost Rider’s six guns were in his gloved hands, firing and shooting the red spikes out of the air.
All but one.
Slade went intangible, but even in his ghostly form the spikes’ passage caused a hot streak of pain across his thigh.
Ghost Rider stumbled slightly, continuing to fire to gain himself some cover.
Thornn dodged and flexed his left arm, firing off three more spikes. They struck the ground in front of Ghost Rider, exploding on contact and kicking up sand and dust.
Slade winced, coughed and took several steps back, still firing.
A stray shot struck Thornn in the leg and the yellow creature stumbled and went down on one knee.
When he did it generated a barrage of the spikes from his leg.
Slade struggled to shoot down the storm of spikes. He went intangible, allowing three spikes to pass through him.
Unfortunately, once they passed through the ghostly hero, the spikes exploded upon contact with the ground, sending already off balance to Ghost Rider stumble forward, as well as causing him to drop one of his guns.
Which was just enough of an opening for Thornn to lunge forward, driving one yellow fist into Ghost Rider’s gut, the other into his throat.
His body slumped and he dropped his other gun.
Thornn moved and put Ghost Rider into a chokehold, flexing a shoulder to shoot off his remaining arm spikes to keep back Phantom.
Dazed and weakened, Ghost Rider’s struggling soon ceased and Thornn dropped him to the dirt.
As he took a step towards his fallen foe he found the Coyote standing between him and Ghost Rider.
“I do not care who your patron is,” The animal growled. “If you wish to kill Slade you must go through me and I am not someone you, or he, wants as an enemy.”
“I have bested the Rider,” Thornn replied, grimly. “I have no need to kill him.”
“Oh, well, that’s all right then,” Coyote shrugged. “Don’t mind me.”
He turned a loped back to his perch.
The ghost horse, unsure what to do, stood nearby, ready to move in if its rider’s life was in danger.
Slightly puzzled, Thorn knelt down next to Ghost Rider and held his hand over his masked face.
Yellow strings of light floated up from his mouth and eyes until Thornn clutched a small ball of pulsing light.
He nodded in satisfaction to himself as he got to his feet. A shimmering portal appeared and Thornn stepped through and was gone.
The desert night was silent for several moments before Coyote ambled down the hill and he and the Ghost Rider’s horse went over to the limp body that lay on the sand.
“Mortals,” Coyote sighed. “Nothing but trouble.”
He leaned in until his snout was nearly touching Slade’s ear.
“You owe me and don’t think I won’t collect. Remember this: A door is merely a wall if you have no key.”
He then moved his snout, tore off a scrap of white cloth from Slades’ cape and ran off into the night, leaving the white horse to stand watch over the fallen Ghost Rider.
# # # # #
Rural California, the Thunder Riders stunt show was enjoying a day off. No performances scheduled till tomorrow gave riders and crew time to rest, relax, and check equipment, repair and practice.
Johnny Blaze chose to spend his time sleeping in and doing as little as possible. A stray dog scrabbling around his trailer and his cell phone seemed to have teamed up to keep that from happening.
Johnny sat up, squinting and frowning. It took two tries to reach his phone.
“Yeah…?” He mumbled.
“Johnny?”
“Hey, Roxy! What’s up?” He said, perking up a bit at the sound of his wife’s voice. “Kids okay?”
“We’re fine. You got a phone call…really weird…do you know someone named Alejandra?”
“What…?” Yeah, yeah,” Johnny replied, puzzled. “She’s a rider.”
“Stunt or Ghost?” His wife asked.
“Um…ghost. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t make a lot of sense.” Roxanne Blaze explained. “She was talking fast and I don’t mean to be a jerk, but I had trouble understanding her accent. She was trying to reach you, there was…um…a giant snake maybe, and she thinks someone is looking for you. It didn’t make sense, but she sounded worried…are you alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Been a pretty quiet week.”
“You’re not keeping anything from me?” She asked, anxiously.
“Rox, I am doing all I can to keep my life as the Ghost Rider separate from you guys, not secret. If something were going on I’d tell you. Gotta say, I really don’t know what Alejandra was talking about but it doesn’t sound good. Nothing weird where you guys are?”
“No…why…should I be…?”
“Calm down, Rox,” Johnny said. “I don’t know. Whatever happened with Alejandra could be nothing, but just keep an eye out. If you think something is wrong, give me a call. You have that list of numbers I gave you? Robbie or I can be there in an hour if you need us.”
“Okay…I guess.” Roxanne said, her voice low and uncertain.
“Rox, do you need me to come home?”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this.”
“That makes two of us.” Johnny replied. “Look, let me check things out and when I have a clue what’s going on, then we can make plans, but no freaking out until we know there’s a reason to. How’s that sound?”
“Okay, yeah… I’m sorry…god, I must sound like a complete damsel…”
“But, you are my damsel,” Johnny told her. “I love you and I’ll get this sorted out.”
“Love you too.”
There wasn’t much more to say after that, except to get Alejandra’s contact info and reassure his wife and pass on his love to their kids.
By the time he hung up, Johnny Blaze had paced his way through the tour bus and was outside. He went around the other side of the bus, away from the other members of the stunt show.
He waded through some knee-high dried grass and then sat down, his back against the tour bus as he stared thoughtfully at his phone.
Roxanne’s version of Alejandra’s message was more confusing then concerning, but at the same time he couldn’t just shrug off his wife’s concern.
Or that little voice in the back of his brain that said something was going on and he needed to pay attention to it.
“Be great if any of it made sense…” He muttered to his phone. “Giant snake…? Demon or should I be expecting the Circus of crime…?”
He shook his head and sighed.
“Really hope I don’t have to deal with clowns. Rather tackle a snake demon.”
He frowned in thought then stood and walked back around the bus, heading for his motorcycle. He paused when he encountered a lanky blonde man in a white Stetson and blue and white biker leathers.
“Morning, Johnny,” The other man said, with a tip of his hat.
“Cowboy,” Johnny said, coming to a decision. “You guys survive without me for an hour or two? I need to make some calls and run a couple errands.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, pardner. I think,” Cowboy shrugged. “Wrench is going to want to show you what he did with your stunt bike and Georgia wants us all to do a ‘family dinner’ to celebrate our last night in town. Not much else going on.”
“Okay,” Johnny nodded absently as he walked off, leaving his puzzled teammate behind.
He didn’t exactly have a plan but knew he always thought better on a bike and if something bad were coming, he’d feel better if it happened away from his new friends and co-workers.
Once on his bike, Johnny rolled up the dirt road. It snaked though a patch of woods before reaching the highway. There was a side road that took him deeper into the woods.
Johnny was about halfway through the woods, contemplating a list of who he needed to call when a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him like a hammer blow and the motorcycle skidded wildly.
He got the bike back under control, barely avoiding hitting a tree and screeched to a halt.
He propped his bike against the tree and clumsily climbed off, hands trembling, sweat stinging his eyes.
“What the hell…just happened…?” He muttered, weakly, right before something struck him in the small of the back.
Johnny lurched forward, sending him and his bike tumbling over into the dirt.
Anger helped him to push the queasiness down as he climbed to his feet.
“Come on,” He snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”
The air several yards in front of him rippled like heat haze and two figures stepped out.
One was a thin, athletic figure, possibly male in head to toe sleek grey body armor with purple trunks and gauntlets. The only feature on his helmet was a slit where his eyes should be, but even that gave no hint of who or what was underneath.
Standing next to him was an African-American woman, with an Afro, in a floor length, high necked white dress.
Her hands were tucked into her billowing sleeves. She studied Johnny Blaze with eyes that seemed to sparkle with an inner light.
“John Blaze,” The woman said. “ I regret my friend’s use of brute force to gain your attention. We do require something from you, but would rather obtain it without a battle.”
“Uh-huh,” Johnny muttered, shaking his head, hoping to dispel the intense dizziness he felt. “And you did that by attacking me in a lonely stretch of woods…? You wouldn’t happen to have a friend that’s a giant snake?”
Despite one of them not seeming to have a face, the duo shared a look that told Johnny he had guessed right.
“Okay,” Johnny nodded, leaning down to pick up his bike. “I don’t think I understand any of this, but I know enough to know you two are not on the side of the angels…”
“That’s ironic, coming from you.” The woman said, quietly.
Johnny shrugged in acknowledgment and straightened up his bike.
“Now, we could, just for the hell of it, try and talk about this like adults…” He said.
The black woman’s eyes glowed with a silvery light and then Johnny Blaze felt the entire world suddenly flip upside down and begin to spin at a furious rate.
“I fear not,” She said, ruefully. “Vakume, deal with him.”
The armored man nodded and flew at Johnny, who was too disoriented and focused on trying not to pass out or vomit with dizziness to notice.
Vakume went intangible, flying straight through Blaze’s chest.
He then stood behind the stunt rider and placed a hand on either side of his head.
The air swirled around Johnny’s head, like a miniature hurricane.
Through the disorientation and nausea that gripped him, Johnny was conscious that whatever the armored figure was doing was sucking the air out of his lungs.
He was on the verge of losing this fight before he had a chance to even start.
Luckily, he was not alone; the demon, which had taken up residence in a dark corner of his soul, had a strong sense of self-preservation.
As he fell to his knees, Johnny Blaze was consumed by fire and it was the Ghost Rider who got slowly, shakily to his feet.
Vakume staggered back a few steps, startled by the burst of flame and Johnny Blaze’s transformation.
“Do not think the demon will change the outcome, John Blaze,” Vertigo intoned, her eyes shinning brighter. “No creature can resist my power!”
Sinking back to his knees, Ghost Rider felt a version of the same twisting of reality that Johnny Blaze had, the same nausea and dizziness.
He planted one flaming hand to the ground to steady himself, the other to his throbbing skull.
Vakume stepped toward him, hands extended, his fingertips beginning to glow with a faint, golden light.
Ghost Rider struggled to clamp down upon the conflict within him, trying to over come it and deal with the peril of the outside world, suddenly, realized there might be another way.
Leaning forward, both hands upon the ground, Ghost Rider let the disorientation win, gave in to it and suddenly began to vomit.
A torrent of liquid flame projected from his mouth, soon becoming a raging inferno.
It formed a circle around the stricken hero, forcing back his attackers.
It startled Vertigo and her eyes returned to normal. Vakume again stumbled back, on reflex becoming intangible and falling through the tree behind him.
Strings of lava-like mucus dripping from his mouth Ghost Rider got slowly to his feet.
Another blast from his mouth raised the wall of fire even higher, protecting him from his attackers. His breathing was ragged and it was taking most of his supernatural strength to stay standing, but he could feel the dizziness starting to fade.
Vakume burst through the wall of fire, grabbing hold of the back of Ghost Rider’s leather jacket and dragging him through the blazing barrier. His air control powers hit the inferno like a fire hose.
Vakume then shoved him to the ground and added a blast of super compressed air to trap Ghost Rider between the earth and air.
Snarling in rage, the demonic super hero thrashed about, yet was incapable of budging himself loose.
Vertigo knelt down in front of him, eyes burning with a cold blue light, and with a delicate, slim-fingered hand jabbed him in the temple, rendering him a limp bundle of anger and bones.
Her fingertips glowing, she then extracted tendrils of energy from his fallen form before she and her companion summoned a portal and were on their way.
# # # # #
Time passed, and Johnny Blaze woke to find himself tasting dirt and aching in every inch of his body.
He winced and groaned, raising his head to squint at his surroundings.
Just amongst the trees, he spotted the stray dog from earlier, watching him intently. Except now he realized it wasn’t a dog, but more likely a wolf or…
“Coyote…?” Johnny muttered, raising himself up. “What the hell just happened…”?
He winced, only managing to reach a sitting position by physically pulling his legs. Just then, the old west Ghost Rider appeared before him.
The ghostly cowboy was so vaporous as to be nearly transparent. He looked as though a strong breeze would dissipate him.
“Hamilton…? What…this day…getting…uh… weirder by the second…”
“Not Hamilton Slade,” The specter told him, his voice sounding distant. “I am Rutherford Slade. I was…the Rider during…Great War. Was brought…to warn... The Riders are being hunted.”
“Yeah, well timing is everything,” Johnny grunted, rubbing at his forehead.
“Not… much time, my descendant…weak…link to material world…fragile. So, shut up and listen…! A door is… a wall without…key…”
With that, the ghost disappeared, like a soap bubble suddenly struck with a pin.
“What the…?” Blaze muttered, glancing over at the coyote.
It shook its head, gave a ‘yip’ and then trotted off into the woods.
Johnny sighed and managed to crawl over to his bike. He leaned, exhausted and weak, against a tree, watching the ring of fire die down as he tried to arrange his thoughts and make some kind of sense to what had just happened.
An hour later, when his friends from the stunt show found him, he had some of his strength back as well as an idea.
“Help me up,” He told Cowboy. “I need to make some calls. I think my friends and I are in trouble.”
“How bad?” His friend asked.
“Maybe fate of the world,” Johnny muttered, climbing to his feet.
Next issue: The big bad revealed! The Ghost Riders vs. Salem’s seven: round 2! And at last we get some answers!
Buried deep within his demonic psyche, Dan Ketch could hear bones crack.
He flew backwards through the air. Luckily, New York City sanitation workers can be fairly negligent and there was a large mound of trash bags to cushion his landing.
Anger and flame burst from him, as Ghost Rider climbed to his feet, incinerating the trash.
He clenched his blazing fists and ground his teeth until he raised sparks, as the beast that had attacked him stomped out from the shadows of the bridge.
He’d come here, to one of Brooklyn’s less fashionable neighborhoods, as a favor to his new potential ally, Doctor Druid. Dan came to investigate what sounded like rumors of a troll living under a bridge. He’d joked about borrowing three billy goats to lure it out. All skepticism vanished after the first blow.
The creature stood a good seven feet tall, its body covered in a light coating of tan fur. Bestial features were surrounded by a tawny mane and dark brown, bison-like horns rested on its brow.
The ‘troll’ was clad in a tunic, short kilt, boots and wristbands of dark brown leather.
It clenched fists the size of Ghost Rider’s head as it approached.
“Submit, demon,” The creature growled. “Your death is not what Brutacus seeks!”
“Which puts you at a disadvantage,” Ghost Rider replied, grimly. “As I have no such concerns for you!”
He flung himself forward, fists pummeling the beast man…to little effect.
Brutacus stood, defiantly, as the skeletal hero vented his anger.
After a half dozen blows, the strongest reaction from the brute was a slight wince and several fist-shaped burn marks on his tunic. Brutacus then reached down, grabbed two handfuls of Ghost Rider’s leather jacket and began to repeatedly slam him against the nearest steel support beam.
Needless to say, the battle had attracted a far sized crowd.
Most of them immediately fled to safety, a few of the more jaded and hardy bystanders merely moved a safe distance away, got out their phones and began taking pictures.
After the third time Ghost Rider was slammed against the metal pillar, Dan Ketch had a sliver of hope that maybe a couple of them might be calling the police or the Avengers.
He clapped his flaming hands against the sides of Bruticcus’ head, which only caused a brief pause and an annoyed snarl.
Several cop cars screeched to a halt nearby, but the man-beast ignored their shouted warnings as well as their warning shots. Several bullets struck Ghost Rider, as the officers were unsure which monster might be the ‘good guy’.
Ghost Rider’s blows went from forceful to desperate and very quickly to feeble. His hands blazed, scorching Brutacus’ fur, but the monstrous attacker merely gritted his teeth against the pain and continued his attack.
Ten minutes after the battle had begun, Ghost Rider hung limply in the monster’s grip. His flame flickered and then went out, leaving a battered skeleton in black biker’s leathers.
Brutacus pulled back one massive hand and held it in front of the skull. Within seconds golden vapors flowed like water from a tap from the spirit of vengeance’s mouth and eye-sockets. It formed into an egg-sized sphere that Bruticcus clutched with surprising gentleness in a hand capable of such powerful violence.
Ghost Rider’s features faded away, leaving the bruised form of Danny Ketch, who was promptly tossed away.
Brutacus spun on the uneasy police officers, who retreated back behind the questionable shelter of their patrol cars.
Holding aloft the glowing sphere, Brutacus summoned a portal of similar color. The massive creature stepped through it and was gone.
Police and bystanders looked around in confusion.
# # # # #
The outlaw racing community thrives around Los Angeles and through it Robbie Reyes was able to supplement his income enough to keep a roof over his and his little brother’s heads.
Most nights.
Tonight, concerns about juggling all his responsibilities, the motivations of his new nanny/occult consultant and the possibility that a rival driver was also the host for a demon was understandably messing with his focus.
Three races and he had barely been able to creep into third.
The hostility of the crowd, not to mention the disapproval of all the local gambling circles was not helping his mood.
If he couldn’t pull off a win tonight, he’d be lucky to earn gas money home, let alone avoid a beating from his disgruntled ‘fans’ and ‘sponsors’.
This track was a little longer then usual and snaked through a construction site.
Robbie was able to keep focus and held onto a solid number two-spot.
Due to the roadwork, the track would switch from dirt to pavement. Robbie seemed to be one of the few drivers not thrown off by that, and it was a big part of why he’d crept up to the front of the pack.
The next sharp turn was dirt, but Robbie knew if he could hug it, it was only a few feet to asphalt and there was a good chance he could shoot past the orange racer that was his main competitor.
He skidded round the turn, holding close to the far edge of the curve, slid past a blue car with inches to spare and immediately fish tailed when he hit the pavement as it was suddenly slick with water.
All three lead cars struggled to stay straight, as this section narrowed and the cars behind them would ram them if they slowed down at all.
Robbie swerved, his Dodge charger drawing sparks off the orange racer. As soon as the track widened, he moved to the far edge of the track, barely ahead of a collision by the two cars right behind him.
Just as he was about to race past a rival in a blue camero, something hit the passenger side of the black Charger with the force of a battering ram, driving Robbie off the pavement and nearly into the ditch.
Visibility was bad, as all the windows were suddenly beaded with moisture. Robbie felt the impact of a car clipping his rear fender, before he skidded, and pulled up onto the shoulder.
“It’s not raining…?” He muttered, struggling with the steering. “Where the hell is all this water coming from?”
He climbed out of the car and tossed his helmet onto the front seat.
Across the road, two cars had sideswiped reach other and then collided with the embankment, their drivers struggling out, uninjured but every bit as confused, shaken and pissed off as Robbie was.
Another car had had its windshield fractured by the mysterious water cannon that seemed to be attacking the racers and soon there were two more cars blocking half the track.
A moment of concentration and Robbie transformed into Ghost Rider while on the move. He lunged and jammed a shoulder against the trunk end of one of the cars, pushing it out of the way just enough for the oncoming cars to squeeze by with no more damage than scrapping some paint off the stopped vehicles.
He leapt back to avoid getting hit and hopefully ducking out of site, when a battering ram of water struck him full in the chest and sent him flying back across the road.
He hit the side of the Dodge charger and slumped to the ground, the wind of the passing cars whipping about the flames surrounding his skull.
“What the…?” He muttered, shaking his head and getting unsteadily to his feet.
A second blast of water grazed his side before striking his car.
Ghost Rider lunged to the side and his fists ignited into balls of fire.
“Come on!” He shouted into the darkness. “Let’s get this over with!”
He scanned the top of the embankment, knowing that somewhere up there was where the attack had come from.
“You going to hide all night, Water Wizard!”
“What…?” Replied a raspy voice from the shadows.
The figure that stepped into the light was tall and lithe; its skin was green and scaly. Its nostrils mere slits above a wide mouth and it sported a translucent fin on top of its head.
The attacker was clad in a blue leotard and thigh high boots. Instead of a right hand it sported a prosthetic that resembled a large hose nozzle.
“You do not face some feeble ‘super villain’!” The green man hissed. “But, a warrior! I am Hydron!”
“Okay, so…not Water Wizard,” Ghost rider muttered, unsure how he felt about that. A crowd was starting to gather. Not just the other racers, but track organizers and parts of the crowd concerned over the stall in the race.
Ghost Rider ran at the fish-man, fists clenched.
Hydron leapt down the embankment to face him.
Ghost Rider dodged his next blast of water and then caught Hydron with a fiery uppercut to the stomach. Hydron staggered back and swung his water gun hand.
Ghost Rider dodged the blow, but took a blast of water to the face.
His skull sizzled. The youngest Ghost Rider flailed wildly. One punch caught Hydron in the shoulder the other was a wide miss.
Robbie knew he had to keep his attacker off guard until his vision cleared. That plan lasted until a kick to the back of his head drove him to the pavement.
Robbie was struggling to raise himself up when an unrelenting blast of water slammed him back against the road.
Much as he fought against the torrent, Ghost Rider couldn’t do more then raise himself up an inch or two before being slammed back down. His body trembled with the effort and the flames haloing his skull and fists quickly went from blazing to sporadic flickers.
His second attacker landed in between his shoulder blades, driving him back down for the final time.
Ghost Rider’s limp body was kicked over onto his back, while his two attackers stood triumphantly over it.
The milling crowd, unsure what had occurred, stood around, bets were paid off, pictures were taken but they seemed more concerned with the extra entertainment value they had received and moving their cars before the police took notice.
Hydron was joined by a tall, athletic woman in a scarlet, off the shoulder dress and an elaborate tiara that gave her the appearance of having antlers.
Her dress was slit to the thigh, revealing long legs that ended in odd hoof-like feet.
“I needed no help dealing with this child, Gazelle.” Hydron grumbled.
“And I am sure you even believe that,” She replied, straddling the senseless spirit of Vengeance’s chest. She held her long fingered hand above his skull. Tendrils of liquidy golden light flowed from Robbie Reyes mouth.
Once Gazelle had accumulated a handful of golden light, she gracefully stood up and smiled triumphantly at her green, scaly partner.
Between there magical exit, the aftermath of the multiple car crashes and arrival of the LAPD, there was more then enough chaos to allow Robbie to crawl back to his car and collapse. He lay limply across the back seat. Too weak to do more then hope no one spotted him.
Once the police had moved on, Robbie managed to crawl into the driver’s seat.
“Come on,” He muttered, feebly. “Get…get me outta here…take me home.”
The black Dodger purred to life and sped up the embankment and into the night.
# # # # #
The night sky, above the desert, was a riot of stars.
The white-clad, masked cowboy, the Ghost Rider galloped across the sandy landscape.
Ghost Rider drew his horse, Phantom to a halt when he spotted a coyote, silhouetted against the full moon, standing a top a dune.
“Not again,” He muttered, dismounting and walking his horse towards the dune.
Man and animal stood for several moments, taking each other’s measure.
“You again?” Ghost Rider sighed.
“Do you treat all your friends this way, Slade?” The coyote asked in reply.
“Are we friends?” The ancient cowboy asked. “Seems like a friend would give me a straight answer occasionally.”
The coyote yipped in its version of a chuckle.
“I am the least of your troubles, Slade,” He said, with a shake of his head.
“What are my troubles?” Ghost Rider asked, arms crossed.
“Him, for one,” Coyote replied, nodding his head over Ghost Rider’s right shoulder.
Slade spun. Down the sandy hill, where it meet the rough dirt road stood what he thought was a man.
He was medium height, stocky in build and from head to toe yellow. Whether it was a costume or his skin Slade couldn’t guess. He had short yellow horns sticking out from his temples and a row of red spikes ran down both sides of his muscular arms and legs.
Slade strode down the dune towards the stranger.
“This’ll be interesting,” Coyote muttered, settling down to watch.
Once he got closer, Ghost Rider could see that the yellow being had pupil-less red eyes and no visible mouth.
“Rider,” The new arrival rasped, surprising Slade that he could talk at all. “Come, face me! I, Thornn, challenge you!”
He stood, arms akimbo, glaring down the dirt track at the spectral cowboy.
“Really?” Ghost Rider said, casually untying the holsters on his white gun belt. “A showdown in the middle of the street? Son, I help invent this sort of thing. Doesn’t seem a fair gunfight, as I’m the only one who seems to have bothered to bring guns….”
“I need to carry no weapons,” Thornn growled. “I am a weapon!”
He swiftly raised his arms and a half dozen of the red spikes shot off, flying like tiny missiles at the ghostly gunslinger.
Just as quickly, Ghost Rider’s six guns were in his gloved hands, firing and shooting the red spikes out of the air.
All but one.
Slade went intangible, but even in his ghostly form the spikes’ passage caused a hot streak of pain across his thigh.
Ghost Rider stumbled slightly, continuing to fire to gain himself some cover.
Thornn dodged and flexed his left arm, firing off three more spikes. They struck the ground in front of Ghost Rider, exploding on contact and kicking up sand and dust.
Slade winced, coughed and took several steps back, still firing.
A stray shot struck Thornn in the leg and the yellow creature stumbled and went down on one knee.
When he did it generated a barrage of the spikes from his leg.
Slade struggled to shoot down the storm of spikes. He went intangible, allowing three spikes to pass through him.
Unfortunately, once they passed through the ghostly hero, the spikes exploded upon contact with the ground, sending already off balance to Ghost Rider stumble forward, as well as causing him to drop one of his guns.
Which was just enough of an opening for Thornn to lunge forward, driving one yellow fist into Ghost Rider’s gut, the other into his throat.
His body slumped and he dropped his other gun.
Thornn moved and put Ghost Rider into a chokehold, flexing a shoulder to shoot off his remaining arm spikes to keep back Phantom.
Dazed and weakened, Ghost Rider’s struggling soon ceased and Thornn dropped him to the dirt.
As he took a step towards his fallen foe he found the Coyote standing between him and Ghost Rider.
“I do not care who your patron is,” The animal growled. “If you wish to kill Slade you must go through me and I am not someone you, or he, wants as an enemy.”
“I have bested the Rider,” Thornn replied, grimly. “I have no need to kill him.”
“Oh, well, that’s all right then,” Coyote shrugged. “Don’t mind me.”
He turned a loped back to his perch.
The ghost horse, unsure what to do, stood nearby, ready to move in if its rider’s life was in danger.
Slightly puzzled, Thorn knelt down next to Ghost Rider and held his hand over his masked face.
Yellow strings of light floated up from his mouth and eyes until Thornn clutched a small ball of pulsing light.
He nodded in satisfaction to himself as he got to his feet. A shimmering portal appeared and Thornn stepped through and was gone.
The desert night was silent for several moments before Coyote ambled down the hill and he and the Ghost Rider’s horse went over to the limp body that lay on the sand.
“Mortals,” Coyote sighed. “Nothing but trouble.”
He leaned in until his snout was nearly touching Slade’s ear.
“You owe me and don’t think I won’t collect. Remember this: A door is merely a wall if you have no key.”
He then moved his snout, tore off a scrap of white cloth from Slades’ cape and ran off into the night, leaving the white horse to stand watch over the fallen Ghost Rider.
# # # # #
Rural California, the Thunder Riders stunt show was enjoying a day off. No performances scheduled till tomorrow gave riders and crew time to rest, relax, and check equipment, repair and practice.
Johnny Blaze chose to spend his time sleeping in and doing as little as possible. A stray dog scrabbling around his trailer and his cell phone seemed to have teamed up to keep that from happening.
Johnny sat up, squinting and frowning. It took two tries to reach his phone.
“Yeah…?” He mumbled.
“Johnny?”
“Hey, Roxy! What’s up?” He said, perking up a bit at the sound of his wife’s voice. “Kids okay?”
“We’re fine. You got a phone call…really weird…do you know someone named Alejandra?”
“What…?” Yeah, yeah,” Johnny replied, puzzled. “She’s a rider.”
“Stunt or Ghost?” His wife asked.
“Um…ghost. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t make a lot of sense.” Roxanne Blaze explained. “She was talking fast and I don’t mean to be a jerk, but I had trouble understanding her accent. She was trying to reach you, there was…um…a giant snake maybe, and she thinks someone is looking for you. It didn’t make sense, but she sounded worried…are you alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Been a pretty quiet week.”
“You’re not keeping anything from me?” She asked, anxiously.
“Rox, I am doing all I can to keep my life as the Ghost Rider separate from you guys, not secret. If something were going on I’d tell you. Gotta say, I really don’t know what Alejandra was talking about but it doesn’t sound good. Nothing weird where you guys are?”
“No…why…should I be…?”
“Calm down, Rox,” Johnny said. “I don’t know. Whatever happened with Alejandra could be nothing, but just keep an eye out. If you think something is wrong, give me a call. You have that list of numbers I gave you? Robbie or I can be there in an hour if you need us.”
“Okay…I guess.” Roxanne said, her voice low and uncertain.
“Rox, do you need me to come home?”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this.”
“That makes two of us.” Johnny replied. “Look, let me check things out and when I have a clue what’s going on, then we can make plans, but no freaking out until we know there’s a reason to. How’s that sound?”
“Okay, yeah… I’m sorry…god, I must sound like a complete damsel…”
“But, you are my damsel,” Johnny told her. “I love you and I’ll get this sorted out.”
“Love you too.”
There wasn’t much more to say after that, except to get Alejandra’s contact info and reassure his wife and pass on his love to their kids.
By the time he hung up, Johnny Blaze had paced his way through the tour bus and was outside. He went around the other side of the bus, away from the other members of the stunt show.
He waded through some knee-high dried grass and then sat down, his back against the tour bus as he stared thoughtfully at his phone.
Roxanne’s version of Alejandra’s message was more confusing then concerning, but at the same time he couldn’t just shrug off his wife’s concern.
Or that little voice in the back of his brain that said something was going on and he needed to pay attention to it.
“Be great if any of it made sense…” He muttered to his phone. “Giant snake…? Demon or should I be expecting the Circus of crime…?”
He shook his head and sighed.
“Really hope I don’t have to deal with clowns. Rather tackle a snake demon.”
He frowned in thought then stood and walked back around the bus, heading for his motorcycle. He paused when he encountered a lanky blonde man in a white Stetson and blue and white biker leathers.
“Morning, Johnny,” The other man said, with a tip of his hat.
“Cowboy,” Johnny said, coming to a decision. “You guys survive without me for an hour or two? I need to make some calls and run a couple errands.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, pardner. I think,” Cowboy shrugged. “Wrench is going to want to show you what he did with your stunt bike and Georgia wants us all to do a ‘family dinner’ to celebrate our last night in town. Not much else going on.”
“Okay,” Johnny nodded absently as he walked off, leaving his puzzled teammate behind.
He didn’t exactly have a plan but knew he always thought better on a bike and if something bad were coming, he’d feel better if it happened away from his new friends and co-workers.
Once on his bike, Johnny rolled up the dirt road. It snaked though a patch of woods before reaching the highway. There was a side road that took him deeper into the woods.
Johnny was about halfway through the woods, contemplating a list of who he needed to call when a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him like a hammer blow and the motorcycle skidded wildly.
He got the bike back under control, barely avoiding hitting a tree and screeched to a halt.
He propped his bike against the tree and clumsily climbed off, hands trembling, sweat stinging his eyes.
“What the hell…just happened…?” He muttered, weakly, right before something struck him in the small of the back.
Johnny lurched forward, sending him and his bike tumbling over into the dirt.
Anger helped him to push the queasiness down as he climbed to his feet.
“Come on,” He snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”
The air several yards in front of him rippled like heat haze and two figures stepped out.
One was a thin, athletic figure, possibly male in head to toe sleek grey body armor with purple trunks and gauntlets. The only feature on his helmet was a slit where his eyes should be, but even that gave no hint of who or what was underneath.
Standing next to him was an African-American woman, with an Afro, in a floor length, high necked white dress.
Her hands were tucked into her billowing sleeves. She studied Johnny Blaze with eyes that seemed to sparkle with an inner light.
“John Blaze,” The woman said. “ I regret my friend’s use of brute force to gain your attention. We do require something from you, but would rather obtain it without a battle.”
“Uh-huh,” Johnny muttered, shaking his head, hoping to dispel the intense dizziness he felt. “And you did that by attacking me in a lonely stretch of woods…? You wouldn’t happen to have a friend that’s a giant snake?”
Despite one of them not seeming to have a face, the duo shared a look that told Johnny he had guessed right.
“Okay,” Johnny nodded, leaning down to pick up his bike. “I don’t think I understand any of this, but I know enough to know you two are not on the side of the angels…”
“That’s ironic, coming from you.” The woman said, quietly.
Johnny shrugged in acknowledgment and straightened up his bike.
“Now, we could, just for the hell of it, try and talk about this like adults…” He said.
The black woman’s eyes glowed with a silvery light and then Johnny Blaze felt the entire world suddenly flip upside down and begin to spin at a furious rate.
“I fear not,” She said, ruefully. “Vakume, deal with him.”
The armored man nodded and flew at Johnny, who was too disoriented and focused on trying not to pass out or vomit with dizziness to notice.
Vakume went intangible, flying straight through Blaze’s chest.
He then stood behind the stunt rider and placed a hand on either side of his head.
The air swirled around Johnny’s head, like a miniature hurricane.
Through the disorientation and nausea that gripped him, Johnny was conscious that whatever the armored figure was doing was sucking the air out of his lungs.
He was on the verge of losing this fight before he had a chance to even start.
Luckily, he was not alone; the demon, which had taken up residence in a dark corner of his soul, had a strong sense of self-preservation.
As he fell to his knees, Johnny Blaze was consumed by fire and it was the Ghost Rider who got slowly, shakily to his feet.
Vakume staggered back a few steps, startled by the burst of flame and Johnny Blaze’s transformation.
“Do not think the demon will change the outcome, John Blaze,” Vertigo intoned, her eyes shinning brighter. “No creature can resist my power!”
Sinking back to his knees, Ghost Rider felt a version of the same twisting of reality that Johnny Blaze had, the same nausea and dizziness.
He planted one flaming hand to the ground to steady himself, the other to his throbbing skull.
Vakume stepped toward him, hands extended, his fingertips beginning to glow with a faint, golden light.
Ghost Rider struggled to clamp down upon the conflict within him, trying to over come it and deal with the peril of the outside world, suddenly, realized there might be another way.
Leaning forward, both hands upon the ground, Ghost Rider let the disorientation win, gave in to it and suddenly began to vomit.
A torrent of liquid flame projected from his mouth, soon becoming a raging inferno.
It formed a circle around the stricken hero, forcing back his attackers.
It startled Vertigo and her eyes returned to normal. Vakume again stumbled back, on reflex becoming intangible and falling through the tree behind him.
Strings of lava-like mucus dripping from his mouth Ghost Rider got slowly to his feet.
Another blast from his mouth raised the wall of fire even higher, protecting him from his attackers. His breathing was ragged and it was taking most of his supernatural strength to stay standing, but he could feel the dizziness starting to fade.
Vakume burst through the wall of fire, grabbing hold of the back of Ghost Rider’s leather jacket and dragging him through the blazing barrier. His air control powers hit the inferno like a fire hose.
Vakume then shoved him to the ground and added a blast of super compressed air to trap Ghost Rider between the earth and air.
Snarling in rage, the demonic super hero thrashed about, yet was incapable of budging himself loose.
Vertigo knelt down in front of him, eyes burning with a cold blue light, and with a delicate, slim-fingered hand jabbed him in the temple, rendering him a limp bundle of anger and bones.
Her fingertips glowing, she then extracted tendrils of energy from his fallen form before she and her companion summoned a portal and were on their way.
# # # # #
Time passed, and Johnny Blaze woke to find himself tasting dirt and aching in every inch of his body.
He winced and groaned, raising his head to squint at his surroundings.
Just amongst the trees, he spotted the stray dog from earlier, watching him intently. Except now he realized it wasn’t a dog, but more likely a wolf or…
“Coyote…?” Johnny muttered, raising himself up. “What the hell just happened…”?
He winced, only managing to reach a sitting position by physically pulling his legs. Just then, the old west Ghost Rider appeared before him.
The ghostly cowboy was so vaporous as to be nearly transparent. He looked as though a strong breeze would dissipate him.
“Hamilton…? What…this day…getting…uh… weirder by the second…”
“Not Hamilton Slade,” The specter told him, his voice sounding distant. “I am Rutherford Slade. I was…the Rider during…Great War. Was brought…to warn... The Riders are being hunted.”
“Yeah, well timing is everything,” Johnny grunted, rubbing at his forehead.
“Not… much time, my descendant…weak…link to material world…fragile. So, shut up and listen…! A door is… a wall without…key…”
With that, the ghost disappeared, like a soap bubble suddenly struck with a pin.
“What the…?” Blaze muttered, glancing over at the coyote.
It shook its head, gave a ‘yip’ and then trotted off into the woods.
Johnny sighed and managed to crawl over to his bike. He leaned, exhausted and weak, against a tree, watching the ring of fire die down as he tried to arrange his thoughts and make some kind of sense to what had just happened.
An hour later, when his friends from the stunt show found him, he had some of his strength back as well as an idea.
“Help me up,” He told Cowboy. “I need to make some calls. I think my friends and I are in trouble.”
“How bad?” His friend asked.
“Maybe fate of the world,” Johnny muttered, climbing to his feet.
Next issue: The big bad revealed! The Ghost Riders vs. Salem’s seven: round 2! And at last we get some answers!