Issue #8 by Travis Hiltz
December 2018
December 2018
"The Seven"
The Door to Heaven and Hell - Part One
Dan Ketch felt consciousness returning and immediately regretted it.
On the bright side, having been dead several times, he knew for sure he was still alive, but at the same time, he hurt so much, he almost wished whatever had happened had killed him.
He felt a hand on his forehead and a familiar voice murmuring. Dan managed to get both eyes open a fraction and saw an angel leaning over him, an angel with a police badge, that he recalled having recently seen naked.
“Stacey…” He rasped, attempting a smile, then wincing as his upper lip was split and his jaw ached.
“Hey,” She said back quietly, her smile genuine, while he eyes filmed over with tears. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”
“What…what happened…?” He muttered. “”I re-remember…got…uh… punched by a troll…”
“Of course you did,” Stacey said, perching on the edge of the bed.
Danny blinked and realized he was in a private hospital room. There was an IV in his left arm and a cast on his right, from his knuckles to his elbow.
“Where…?” He started.
“We got called in about a monster fight in the Bronx,” Stacey interrupted. “Something that looked like it came from middle earth jumped through a…portal of some kind and we found you, beaten half to death, in an alley. I convinced everyone you were caught in the middle of the fight, without mentioning Ghost Rider, and got you set up here. What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” Dan replied, shifting on the bed. Every move made him wince. “Got…a…a tip about the bridge…monster…beat the crap out of me and…did…something…feel…um…dunno…?”
“Take it easy,” Stacy said, in a worried tone as she stroked his arm. “We’ll figure this out…maybe you need to talk to Johnny or somebody…”
As she said that, Dan blinked, peered past her shoulder and saw the ghostly form of his older brother step through the wall.
Johnny was dressed in his blue leathers. He held a finger to his lips and then leaned back, arms crossed, waiting.
“Let me…um…think about it, okay?” Dan said, understandably distracted. “I’m feeling…tired.”
“Okay, I can take a hint,” She smiled, standing up. She kissed him on the forehead. “If there’s anything I can do, tell me. I’m the only one allowed to rough up my boyfriend.”
“Huh, ‘Boyfriend’…!” The phantom Johnny said, once the door had closed behind Stacey. “That Blaze family charm…!”
“Seriously…?” Dan muttered, struggling to sit up. “Even your ghost is a dick to me?”
“I’m not dead,” Johnny said. “In fact, I’m currently way healthier looking then you…damn, you really got your ass kicked!”
“Seriously, I hate you. Could I be haunted by the kid, instead?”
“You can talk to all of us,” Johnny said, reaching a translucent hand toward his brother. “That’s why I’m here.”
His fingers sank into his brothers’ forehead and Dan’s whole body arched like he’d received an electric shock.
When he opened his eyes, Dan Ketch was no longer in a hospital bed.
He was standing in a nearly empty drive-in theater parking lot. The noonday sun beat down on him and he shaded his eyes. There was a white horse, tied up to one of the speaker poles.
“Hey! Either turn around or learn to tie some knots!” His brother shouted from behind Dan. “I’ve suffered enough without having to look at your ass.”
Dan spun, realized he still wore just a hospital gown, his cast and an assortment of bandages.
Behind him was parked Robbie Reyes’ black charger. The teenager sat on the hood.
Hamilton Slade stood nearby, clad in his all white Ghost Rider ensemble. Danny noticed that his cape was torn to shreds.
His Brother, still wearing a punchable smirk, leaned against the car.
“What the hell is going on?” Danny snapped, awkwardly attempting to tie up the back of his hospital gown as he joined his teammates. “Why are we in a…waitaminute…didn’t we used to go to this drive-in as kids…?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Johnny shrugged. “Look, maybe Doctor Strange does this stuff all the time, but I am a novice. I’m just glad it worked.”
“Worked? What worked?” Dan protested. “Did you teleport me here?”
“We’re on the astral plane,” Slade explained. “One of my ancestors was able to jumpstart the link between us and lets us do this. Things are bad.”
“So, every one of us was attacked by the water guy?” Robbie asked.
“Water guy…?” Dan replied, confused. “No, it was a big, freakin’ troll…I think.”
“It was Salem’s Seven,” Johnny said, straightening up. “They’re a team created by a coven of witches…that part’s not important…the important bit is somebody sent them after us…and they did…something to us.”
“You guys feel it too?” Robbie said, sliding off his car hood to stand with the others. “It wasn’t just me? I’ve got this…I don’t know…hollow spot…”
“We all seem to have it,” Hamilton nodded, thoughtfully. “We need to find what it is.”
“Waitasec…!” Dan interrupted. “Salem’s Seven..? The guys controlled by…um… Nicholas Scratch…right?”
“Wait…what…?” Johnny exclaimed. “How do you know about Nicholas Scratch?”
‘Back when I was in the…uh…the Fantastic Four,” Dan shrugged. “Spider-man showed me how to use the computer and I checked out…um…what supernatural villains we might have to deal with…”
“Okay, what?!” Johnny interrupted again. “You were in the Fantastic Four? When did that happen? How desperate were they…?”
“It was back…wait…desperate?” Dan started then glared at his brother. “Look, I get the FF isn’t as big a deal as being one of the “Champions”, but…!”
“Could you two wait until we get this sorted out?” Hamilton interrupted. “Or preferably when I’m dead.”
“Or maybe explain what the &^%$ you are talking about?” Robbie added. “These Salem Seven guys are the ones that attacked us and who the hell are Salem’s Seven?”
The two other Ghost Riders glared at the two brothers, until they looked properly chagrined.
“Yeah, right,” Dan nodded. Glancing over at his brother. “Go ahead, you be exposition man.”
Jonny nodded.
“Salem’s Seven is a supernatural group,” He said. “They were created by a warlock named Nicholas Scratch, as protectors of a secret city of witches…it sounds weird when you say it out loud…anyway, they should all be dead…all of them, Scratch included…”
“So, they got better and decided to beat the crap out of us?” Robbie asked.
“Scratch has died before,” Hamilton Slade shrugged. “One of my ancestors put several bullets in him around 1910. “
“So, we know ‘who’, but not ‘why’.” Johnny nodded.
“I’m with the kid,” Dan said impatiently. “They did something to us…we should be figuring that out.”
“Why would Scratch come after any us?” Robbie asked. “I never heard of him…?”
“We might be looking through the wrong end of the telescope,” Hamilton nodded. “Instead of looking at them, we should be thinking about who’d want to come after us.”
“Well, that would be just about everybody,” Dan muttered. “I got on the wrong side of pretty much the entire supernatural community.”
“You got a gift, bro,” Johnny said.
“And I’ve been doing this for a couple centuries,” Hamilton added, thoughtfully.
Robbie leaned against his car, rubbing at a spot on his chest absently, while the other men talked around him. With his rogues’ gallery of two, he didn’t feel he had any helpful information. He felt like a sidekick since joining this team.
“That’s gotta be it…!” He muttered, banging his fist against the car door. “Jesus, we are idiots!”
“Watch the language, youngster,” Hamilton chided.
“Who’s an idiot?” Dan asked, with a challenging glare.
“The only thing that connects us is the four horsemen gig,” Robbie said, starting to pace as he talked. “If what they…um…took or did to us didn’t mess with our…powers…the whole horseman…thing…”
He paused and glanced up at his teammates, .
“Am I saying stuff you already know? I sound like a retard…don’t I…?”
“No, “ Slade said. “I think you got something…”
“We’ve been thinking this was a revenge deal,” Johnny Blaze said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Because, let’s face it, there are a lot of people that want Dan and I dead.”
“This is all about us being the horsemen…!” Slade frowned, crossing his arms. “That makes it worse…”
“Great, what do we do about it?” Dan grumbled.
“If they messed with us or, more likely, took…something from us, then we know where this ends…” Johnny muttered.
“The door,” Robbie nodded, with a slight shiver.
“We need to figure this out before it gets to there,” Slade added, grimly.
“Great, how?” Dan snapped. “Where do we look? Who are we looking for?”
“How about you stop running your mouth and start thinking?” Johnny told him. “We need to find a way to track the Seven. We need to catch them before they get to the door!”
“I…might know…someone,” Robbie nervously suggested. “Maybe, she could help…?”
“That’s a start,” Johnny nodded, then glanced back over at his surly sibling. “How about you?”
The two men shared a glare, emotions bubbling below the surface that both knew would have to be dealt with at a later time.
Danny shrugged and ran a hand over his stubbly chin.
“Yeah, I think I know a guy.”
“What about the door?” Slade asked. “I keep thinking we should have someone watching it, but if the Seven are watching us, we’d be leading them right to it.”
“Yeah, probably,” Johnny nodded. “Let’s leave it alone long as we can.”
“What if we find something?” Robbie asked.
“Get hold of somebody,” Slade said, glancing from the teenager to the two brothers. “Nobody tackles this alone. Nobody! This is bigger then any man’s pride.”
Once he got agreement from the others, the old cowboy tipped his Stetson and faded.
“Talk to you soon,” Robbie said, climbing into his car. The minute the engine revved, both car and driver faded away.
“We can all do this ‘ magic conference call’ trick?” Dan asked.
Johnny nodded.
“When were you planning on telling the rest of us?” Dan asked, an angry tone creeping into his voice.
“Maybe waiting for you to act like you gave a damn about being part of this team.” Johnny said. Then he was gone.
Dan returned to his hospital bed, irritable and frustrated. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and then winced as he pulled out his IV.
“Gonna need some pants if I want to save the world.” He grumbled.
Somewhere in Los Angeles, a young woman in fashionably distressed cut-offs and t-shirt was sitting on the curb eating the lunch she’d gotten from a nearby food truck.
“Fish tacos…?” A voice asked from over her shoulder. “Maybe you’re evil after all.”
Seer looked up from her lunch and cast a sullen glare at Robbie Reyes.
“What do you want?” She asked. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? I’m not trustworthy, remember…?”
“I don’t trust you to watch my brother or care about my family,” Robbie said, sitting down next to her. “You suck at it. How about the part where you’re supposed to be my advisor on the supernatural? You any good at that?”
“What do you want?” Seer asked.
“Salem’s Seven came after the Riders and beat the crap out of us.” Robbie explained.
“Salem’s Seven…?” Seer asked, looking up at Robbie, her moodiness cracking and hints of concern and thoughtfulness leaking out.
“Don’t tell me they’re dead,” Robbie frowned. “I’ve heard.”
“No, I’d heard the rumors,” she replied. “But, the Seven need a…master, a sponsor of some kind…they can’t access their spell without one.”
“Yeah, Nicholas Scratch.”
“No, he’s dead,” Seer said, shaking her head and then taking a bite of taco while she thought. “Pretty sure…he may have been banished to the dark realms…?”
“So, who’s controlling the Seven?” Robbie asked frustrated that they seemed to be back where they started.
“Let me ask around,” She said. “If they went after all four Riders, that’s serious magical energy…there has to be ripples we can trace…that’s my soda…!”
“Um…yeah, I was just…” Robbie muttered, pausing with the straw inches away from his mouth.
“I’m only your mystical advisor. Get your own Dr. Pepper.”
Dan Ketch, back in his own clothes, sat on a park bench, glancing across the street at his girlfriends’ apartment building. He needed help, but at the same time knew Stacy must know he snuck out of the hospital and not sure if he wanted to face the lecture he had coming enough to ask for her help.
“You’ve had a rough day,” Doctor Druid said, handing him a takeout coffee.
“So, is your magic sanctum a Starbucks?” Dan asked, accepting the hot beverage and taking a grateful sip.
“I’m sorry your…encounter went so badly,” Druid said, joining Dan on the bench.
“Yeah, we need to talk about that,” Dan nodded, grimly. “What did you know that you didn’t bother to tell me?”
“What?” the older man asked, taken aback. “You think I set you up to be attacked?”
“Tell me again how your time on the Avengers ended?” Dan asked with a significant glance. “You have a shaky rep and our first go round landed me in the hospital. You really need to give me a reason to trust you and/or not kick your ass.”
Druid studied the other man for several seconds, pondering how serious Dan Ketch was and what was the best way to respond.
He looked away, and took a sip of his coffee.
“I do admit, I misread the situation,” Doctor Druid said, in a subdued tone. “The creature’s appearance seemed too convient…I used you to draw it out…”
“I was bait?”
“A bit, but it was more because I didn’t think you were the intended target,” Druid explained. “I felt it was occurring too coincidently close to my own return…”
“You let me get beat up because you thought you were the target?” Dan asked, grimly.
“I’m not proud of it,” Druid admitted. “I thought whoever was targeting me, would send a mystic, so a more physical opponent would be able to deal with it.”
He shrugged.
“I misjudged things, but there was no evil intent, merely ego.” Doctor Druid frowned and took another sip of his coffee. “I am sorry for that.”
“So, did that hurt a lot?” Dan asked, with grim humor. “Having to admit you made a mistake?”
“Are all the Ghost Riders this insufferable?” Druid asked in reply. “Maybe it’s not too late to approach the one with the car…?”
“So, you aren’t evil,” Dan nodded. “Good to know. And you owe me a favor: so tell me all you know about Salem’s Seven.”
“I thought that beast looked familiar,” Druid muttered, stroking his beard in thought. “Salem’s Seven is not so much a group, as a spell…an energy, that requires a set of host forms as well as someone to focus…”
“This Nickolas Scratch guy people keep mentioning?” Dan asked.
“He was the spell’s originator, a powerful warlock, but I thought he was dead…or banished…?”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.” Dan muttered. “We need to find them and Nick or whoever is running the show now. Can you do that?”
Druid’s brow furrowed in thought for several moments.
“Should be able to trace the spell…there will be traces where you fought Bruticus.” Druid mused, standing up. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Fair enough,” Dan said, as the other hero walked away. “Not sure if I trust that guy, but, man, this is good coffee…!”
Hamilton Slade drove his pick-up truck out into the desert.
He climbed out, still a bit stiff and sore from his recent fight.
He limped up a rocky incline, slowly, deliberately, as though he was following a call or walking a path that was faded and hard to see.
At the top of the hill was a coyote.
It was lying on its side, panting laboriously. Its fur matted with blood and one of its eyes was crusted shut.
Slade knelt down next to the wounded animal.
“What happened to you…?” He muttered, placing his knapsack on the ground and beginning to rummage through it.
“Who…?” The coyote said, struggling to raise its head and blink its eyes. “Slade…is that you, old man?”
“So, what stupidity led to this?” The cowboy asked in reply.
“Helping you.” Coyote said.
Slade stopped and looked at the battered animal.
“Salem’s Seven came after you for helping me…?” He muttered thoughtfully. “What do you know? Where is Scratch hiding? What is he up to?”
“Not…hnn…not Scratch,” Coyote rasped.
Slade took a battered flask out of his knapsack and unscrewed the cap. He held it underneath coyote’s snout.
“Whu…? Whiskey…you are my favorite human,” It said.
Slade poured a couple drops down the coyote’s throat.
“So, you still think this isn’t your fight?” He asked.
“Mmmm…nobody likes a ‘I told you so’,” Coyote grumbled after licking his snout. He shifted his head so he could glare at Slade with his good eye.
“I don’t have time for games,” Slade said, sternly. “We are on the clock here. No clever riddles or vague stories. You are either helping me or I’ll leave the bottle and be on my way.”
Slade held the mythical beings’ gaze and after several moments got slowly to his feet.
“Wait,” Coyote muttered, sullenly.
“I’m waiting.” Slade said, not walking away, but not leaning back down either. He stood over the creature, like a stern parent.
Coyote grumbled under its breath, before sighing in defeat.
“Forget looking for Scratch.” Coyote muttered. “He did not summon the Seven…and before you ask, I do not know who it is…I’ve tasted traces, felt the wind of his passing through the realms, but he is new to me.”
“If you don’t have a name, tell me what you can,” Slade asked, squatting down. He gave his friend another sip of whiskey.
“He is powerful…whatever he is, he does not care about the boundaries.” Coyote replied.
“Alright,” Slade nodded, straightening up. “Get some rest and try and stay out of trouble.”
Coyote gave a faint bark of laughter as the old cowboy walked away. Using his front paws, he pulled the flask closer.
Johnny Blaze sat on the steps of his trailer. His bruises were minor, but he was feeling at a loss of what his next step should be.
Since his return as one of the four horsemen, Johnny had made his focus the non-supernatural aspects of his life. He’d almost actively avoided interacting with any heroes, either mystical or super. Despite, being seen as de facto leader of the Riders and the one with the most connections to the hero community, he had no idea where to go from here.
His mind drifted, trying to remember if he still had that college Professor’s number…realizing he needed a shave…maybe Alejandra could connect him with someone…oh crap, Roxy’s birthday was next week…!
“This is getting me nowhere,” He muttered, standing up.
As he did, he heard the purr of a motorcycle from behind his trailer, away from the track where the Thunder Riders were practicing. Between his trailer and his neighbors’, Johnny saw a blur of midnight black.
Frowning, he stepped between the two trailers. Up on the hill a figure on a black bike had rolled to a halt, the rider, peering down at Johnny as though waiting for him.
“The Marauder…!” Johnny breathed, beginning to trudge up the hill.
The figure was dressed all in black: leathers, gloves, boots, helmet, facemask; even its goggles were tinted black. No hint was given of the figure beneath.
The bike was black and chrome and shown like it was brand new.
The black clad biker waited patiently until Johnny Blaze reached the top of the grassy hill.
He stood facing the black rider.
“So, what happens now?” Johnny asked.
The Marauder sat on his bike, intently staring at Blaze, who attempted to meet his gaze. Despite knowing that the mysterious rider was just a host, powered by the collective mental energy of the Thunder Riders, he found the man in black’s gaze unnerving.
“We just going to stare at each other?”
The Marauder nodded, and revved his bike, rolling off down the path into the woods.
Johnny frowned, then shrugged and followed after.
The dirt track was narrow and the forest crowded it on either side.
In a small clearing, the Marauder parked his bike and stood near the trees. When Johnny joined him, he could see through the trees that they were on a little hill looking down at the place he was attacked by the Salem’s Seven.
“Okay, you had a ringside seat and let me get slapped around,” Johnny shrugged. “Is this supposed to be helpful or convince me you are on my side?”
The Marauder held a finger to where his lips would be behind the mask and then pointed down the hill.
As sunlight drifted through the gaps in the branches Johnny’s brow furrowed as he saw patches in the air that sparkled.
“What the hell…?” He muttered. He then jogged down the hill, crashing through bushes and struggling to keep from stumbling.
He reached the lower area and cocking his head and narrowing his eyes caught glimpses of the patches of odd energy.
“They left traces…!” He breathed thoughtfully. “However they are…teleporting… does leave traces…!”
He fumbled about, digging his cell phone out of his pocket.
“Come on…come on…hey, Slade!” He said. “I got something!”
He glanced up the hill, but the Marauder was gone.
Later, Robbie and Seer were back at the track.
Robbie felt weird and uncomfortable, being there during the day. He paced uneasily as he talked on his phone.
“Okay, I…uh…don’t…yeah, hold on,” He turned and offered the phone to Seer. “Here, talk to him. He’s trying to explain magic and I…?”
Robbie shrugged.
The young mystic rolled her eyes and took the phone. She talked for several minutes, nodding thoughtfully.
“Okay, got it. Thanks, Bye.”
Robbie looked at her expectantly for a few seconds.
Seer peered at him with a mix of disdain and an expectation of her own.
“Fine,” He muttered. “Could you please tell me what he said? Will it help?”
“Yes,” She said, nodding thoughtfully. “But, it’s also going to tell them you’re coming. You guys need to be ready for that.”
“I hope we are,” Robbie frowned. “Nothing about this sounds good.”
Danny Ketch walk along the city streets, talking on his cell phone.
“Yeah, that’s what she thinks,” He said. “Can you two coordinate things and show us where we need to go…yeah, I know that Seer’s family aren’t entirely trustworthy, but I’m trusting you and you got a bunch of Avengers killed…hold on, I’m getting another call…just talk to her!”
He frowned and tapped at his phone.
“Yeah, John, what now?” He asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, annoyed pedestrians walking around him. “Yeah, I talked to Druid. If he and Seer don’t kill each other, they should be able to pull this off. Plus, I talked to Stacey and all their info on Scratch has him dead too…so sick of being in the dark about this! Yeah, I’m angry! I got beat bloody! We know where this is heading! They can be after only one thing. Why’re we playing detective? Yeah, I’m heading there. Somebody needs to keep an eye on it. That’s where I’m gonna be if you need me!”
He clicked his phone angrily and looked around, spotting a narrow alley, where he could summon his bike…
Johnny shut off his phone and frowned at the distant horizon.
“Jackass…!” He muttered.
“How is your brother?” Georgia asked, from her camp chair. She held a hand up to shade her eyes from the sun as she glanced over at him.
“Aarrggh,” Johnny sighed. “Why do I talk him?”
“Family is fun,” The young African-American said, with a smile. “This family trouble or spooky trouble?”
“Spooky,” Johnny said. “I’m gonna need to head out for a little bit. Hopefully, I can sort this out in a couple days.”
“Cowboy and Reddy are going to fume,” She said, thoughtfully. “But, we knew you had a second job.”
“I just rather deal with this then worry about it.” He said. “It’s already hit close to home once, hate it to happen again.”
“Do what you have to do.” She shrugged. “If you can save the world by Saturday, that’d be cool, but we’ll deal with it if you have to skip a show.”
“Thanks,” Johnny smiled back. “The Thunder Riders are lucky to have you.”
“Be sure the next time you say that my husband is around.” She smiled back.
Johnny Blaze made a fist, which then burst into flame. A blast of hellfire transformed his bike and them himself.
Ghost Rider raced through the streets of New York, until he reached a cemetery in Brooklyn. He raced past the caretaker, who leaned on his shovel, watching the passing demon worriedly.
He drove along down increasingly narrower dirt lanes, through strands of leafless trees, the stones becoming older and more worn.
At a far corner of this city of the dead, was a hummock, overgrown with grass. An ancient wooden door was set into this little hill.
Ghost Rider rolled to a halt and walked his flaming motorcycle up to the door. He held a gloved hand towards the wrought iron door handle. As he grasped the handle his hand blazed with golden light. The door opened and the skull-headed hero stepped through.
The black Dodge charger pulled into the garage and Robbie and Seer climbed out.
They walked through the house, and then took the stairs down to the basement.
In the far corner, Robbie pushed a stack of dusty cardboard boxes aside, revealing an ancient, wooden door with an iron handle instead of a doorknob.
Robbie clenched his fists and with a burst of flame transferred into Ghost Rider.
“If I come back,” He intoned. “And find out you neglected Gabe again…!”
“Fine,” She muttered, sullenly. “I will watch over the portal and your little brother.”
“And…?”
“And…I will…watch Pokémon with him.” Seer said, through gritted teeth.
Robbie nodded and turned back towards the door.
Hamilton Slade’s pickup truck drove along the dirt road. There were long, empty stretches with the occasional plain, two story house.
Being a white man on the reservation, got him a few curious looks, but Slade was a regular visitor, so there was no suspicion or hostility. Several people waved, as he drove past.
The truck slowed down at the end of a dirt driveway.
A Native-American man, in denim work clothes walked towards the truck, nodding in greeting, as Slade climbed out.
The only out of the ordinary things about him, was he carried an ancient coup stick, a long staff with a strand of rawhide twisted around decorated with several eagle feathers at the end.
The other was that the dog ambling along after him was in fact a young wolf.
“Will,” Slade said in greeting.
“What kind of trouble are you in now?” The other man asked.
William Talltrees was also the super hero, Red Wolf. He was a teammate of the Ghost Rider’s on the western-based hero team, the Rangers.
The Rangers were scattered and rarely worked together, but remained friends and willing to help each other out when needed.
“I don’t know,” Slade shrugged, as they, followed by the wolf, walked towards the house. “Don’t know exactly what we’re up against, but it all feels bad.”
“Should I call the others?” Red Wolf asked.
“No, this is Rider business,” Slade frowned. “We need to sort this out, one way or another.”
The two men walked around the house to an ancient looking, wooden teepee structure, a medicine lodge.
“It’s just where you left it,” Red Wolf said, with a grim smile. “The wards are untouched.”
“Appreciate it,” Slade said, shaking his friend’s hand.
He ducked his head to enter the lodge, transforming into his ghostly alter ego as he did. Set into the dirt floor of the lodge was a heavy wooden door. The western hero opened it and stepped through.
The plain was sandy, devoid of any but the scraggliest, patches of vegetation. It seemed to stretch for miles. There was a feeling in the air, that there was a body of water, just beyond the far hills, a distant sound of water lapping a shore, a slight tang of salt in the air.
A light breeze ruffled his cape and he could hear the familiar sound of arguing.
Sighing, the western hero turned to see the two brothers, both in their Ghost Rider forms grumbling at each other.
A bit away from them, their bikes were parked, along with Robbie and his black car and, a bit to Slade’s surprise, his horse Phantom.
“They been doing this long?” He asked Robbie, who was leaning on the roof of the black dodger.
“Since I got here.” The youngest Ghost Rider sighed.
Slade nodded, walked around the car to the two brothers, once he reached them, he drew a six-gun and fired several shots into the air.
Startled, the two turned to look at the new arrival.
“I am getting real tired of this,” He snapped.
“Somebody ditched the plan and decided to run off and guard the portal!” Johnny exclaimed, pointing a flaming finger at his brother.
“I’m sorry, “boss!” Danny snarled back, the halo of flame around his skull burning whitely. “While you were playing detective, somebody should be here! Next time I’ll clear it with you.”
“Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t have had to go chasing after you to see what knuckleheaded stunt you’d decided to pull this time!” Johnny growled back.
“And if the two of you could get along for more then five minutes,” Slade snapped. “Then I wouldn’t have to keep playing referee!”
“And then maybe I could…!” Robbie added, before stopping confused. “Why did I come here…?”
He glanced up in puzzlement, stopped in surprise and then hurried over to his teammates.
“Hey!” He shouted, slamming his flaming fists together. “Look!”
The flash of fire caught their attention.
He pointed upwards.
The cloudless blue sky was crowded with towering, ethereal figures. Celestial Angels, burning so bright it almost hurt to look at them. Dark, skulking, slithering forms that even at this distance reeked of brimstone.
Cosmic entities, the enormous floating heads of Chaos and Order as well as their two-sided herald, the In-Betweener, a representative of the all seeing Watchers, and tinier figures that appeared to be members of various pantheons and Elders of the universe.
“That can’t be good,” Danny muttered. “What do they know that we don’t?”
“Coyote was right,” Slade added. “We just didn’t realize how big a ripple we caused in the pond.”
“Um…I think we might’ve been played,” Robbie muttered, uneasily.
The air felt heavy, as though, despite its cloudless nature, a storm was coming.
A light flared, like a star going nova and Salem’s Seven attacked!
Hydron blasted the parked motorcycles with his water-cannon hand, knocking them over, as well as extinguishing their hellfire!
Bruticus plowed through the quartet, scattering them like bowling pins, before focusing his rage at Danny Ketch.
Vertigo glided forward, her eyes glowing with blue energy that caused the world beneath the Riders to tilt wildly.
Hamilton Slade squinted hard and moved a trembling hand towards his gun belt. Pulling out his white six-gun, he fired at the African-American woman in the white gown.
Her head snapped back as the ghost bullet passed through her forehead. She was caught, before she collapsed to the ground by a green woman with writhing snakes for arms.
The four Riders lurched to their feet and moved to stand in a back-to-back square.
Robbie and Danny created a circle of fire around them.
“Okay, this is bad,” Robbie breathed. “What’s the plan?”
“My plan is kicking that big troll’s ass!” Danny said, pulling free his hellfire chain and plunging through the wall of fire at Bruticus.
“I think it’s ‘try not to get killed’ and hopefully make sense of this,” Johnny said, pulling his sawed off shotgun from the scabbard on his back. “Our bikes may be down, go for your car!”
Johnny absorbed the hellfire and the trio raced to meet their attackers.
Johnny shot at the armored Vakume, who merely went intangible to avoid the blast. Hydron, who had been standing behind him was not so lucky and went staggering backwards, his water gun hand firing wildly, striking teammate and enemy alike. A blast sent Robbie down to his knees, and the next sent Reptilla and Vertigo tumbling backwards.
The nimble Gazelle easily dodged the blasts, moving like a dancer amongst the chaos. Leaping over the fray, she landed between Robbie and his charger.
“You’re going no farther, little boy,” She said.
Robbie hunched forward, his fists engulfed in flame. His anger came up against his reluctance to punch a girl.
“Maybe, I don’t need to,” He told her, snapping his finger.
Her eyes grew wipe at the noise of a racing engine coming up behind her. She turned, wide-eyed at the black car roaring at her. Gazelle leapt, attempted to run across the roof and hood, winced and stumbled, as the metal was awash in flames.
Robbie dove in and then, scattering the various other members of Salem’s Seven, drove for Slade.
The ghostly cowboy was firing his guns, keeping his cool amidst the melee, and carefully picking his shots. He mostly concentrated on taking down the mini-missiles fired by Thornn. Several shots hit the snakehead hands of Reptila, keeping her out of the fight.
The black Dodger skidded to a halt, between Slade and Thornn.
“Hey! Need a ride?” Robbie asked.
Slade holstered one gun to open the door, while still firing with the other.
“Where we going?” Robbie asked.
“I need to get my horse,” The older man said, firing out the window as they drove.
The white stallion, startled by the sudden exit of the black Dodge charger raced around the edges of the battle, searching for its partner, Slade. Occasionally, a combatant would stumble into the horse’s path.
Phantom reared up, hooves flashing as Hydron lunged forward, attempting to escape from Johnny Blaze rather then to challenge the ghostly steed.
Startled, Hyrdon swung his gun hand, striking the horse across the snout.
“Did you just hit my horse?” Slade asked the green scaly villain, before bringing the butt of his gun down on Hydron’s green, finned head.
Dazed, Hydron dropped to his knees. Slade planted his boot between Hydron’s shoulder blades, sending him face first to the ground.
“One down, six to go,” Slade sighed, patting his horse. “We still got work to do, fella.”
In the midst of all this chaos, Danny Ketch and Bruticus were focused only their rematch.
Dan burned like an inferno, wielding his chain, like a whip. The ground all around them was scorched and smoky, as was Bruticus. The two were oblivious to everything but their opponent. You could practically feel the ground shake as they struck each other.
Johnny thought his brother was an idiot to attempt it, but still did his best to keep other members of Salem’s Seven away.
Slade was a precise shooter. Johnny was wiling to settle for fanning his shotgun blasts and trying not to hit his friends. The only member of the Seven he had focused on was Vertigo, who could upset the whole balance of the fight, if she was allowed to get her to feet. Vakume and Gazelle both seemed to have reached that same conclusion and were fighting fiercely to protect and revive her.
With Slade busy shooting it out with Thornn; Johnny worked to get Robbie’s attention and gesturing for him to help.
Robbie was struggling with Reptilla, his car turning tight doughnuts around the Snake-woman, as her elongagated snake arms lashed out.
“We don’t have time for this,” Johnny muttered, firing full blast at Reptilla. She was turning and the blast caught her in the side.
She screeched and writhed like some grotesque punctured balloon.
Robbie screeched to a halt, relieved, startled and then unsure what to do next.
“Hit them!” Johnny shouted, pointing at the trio of Vertigo, Gazelle and Vakume.
Robbie hesitated, but his car contained a more bloodthirsty spirit. The black Dodge launched itself at the three, while the youngest Ghost Rider struggled to hold wheel.
The black car plowed through the villains. They flew through the air like ragdolls.
The car skidded to a halt, sideswiping Thornn, who went down as one of Slade’s ghost bullets caught him in the chest.
“That it? We won?” Robbie asked.
“Not quite,” Slade replied, pointing over to Danny and Bruticus.
“Yeah…um…I don’t want to get between those two.” Robbie muttered.
Still oblivious to events around them, the two traded blows locked in their own berserker rage.
“I got this,” Johnny said, raising one gloved hand. His ghost cycle burst into flame and raced towards the trio. Blaze leapt unto his bike and roared towards the battling pair. He sent the bike into a skid, jumping free right before it caught Bruticus behind the knees. As he stumbled, Danny Ketch lunged at the beast man, riding him to the ground, pummeling Bruticus with flaming fists wrapped in chain, the whole way.
Johnny nudged him off his fallen foe with the butt of his shotgun.
“Feel better?” He asked. “Got that out of your system?”
His brother glared at him for a moment, before nodding.
“Actually, yeah.”
He then raised his arms upwards and let loose a blast of hellfire.
“Come on, Scratch! Show yourself!”
“We still have an audience,” Robbie muttered, looking upwards, at the cosmic spectators, as he got out of his car.
“Let’s see if things are as bad as we thought,” Slade said, climbing down off his horse. He held out a hand. It began to glow with a pure, golden light.
The air in front of them shimmered and a door appeared. It looked similar to the ones that brought them to this place, but heavier, older. It was adorned with a heavy, iron padlock, as well as several bolts. It gave off the feeling that there was something contained behind it, something pushing, straining against the ancient oak and iron that would come bursting out, if the door was ever opened. It practically vibrated with the effort.
“Nothing’s changed,” Danny grunted.
“Except that we just showed them how it find it,” Johnny Blaze muttered, looking around. “Robbie, I think you were right…we’ve been played. It was all about getting us here and showing them the door.”
“Scratch…!” Danny said, grinding his teeth so hard, it raised sparks.
“Here! You want him so badly!”
Another portal opened and a form, emancipated to the point of being flesh stretched over brittle bones, chained and gagged, dropped at their feet.
The body trembled, looking up at the four Riders with rheumy, fearful eyes.
“Scratch…!” Slade breathed. “He is alive!”
“Barely, from the looks of him.” Johnny added.
“Look at him!” Robbie said. “He’s messed up! It wasn’t him! Who’s behind all this crap then?”
“That would be me!”
The owner of the voice, stepped out of the portal, strolled through the air to stand before the supernatural quartet.
He was tall and quite thin, with an enlarged skull and a prominent forehead. He wore a tight blue and purple bodysuit. His eyes were large and pupil-less. His mouth was wide, with a smile that hinted at madness.
“Who the hell is that?” Danny growled in confusion, his hand flaring with flame.
“Maelstrom, at your service!” The tall man said, with an exaggerated bow. He then straightened up, raised his hand, golden energy playing across his long fingers. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to step aside… or be so gentlemanly as to hold the door open for me…?”
To be concluded…
On the bright side, having been dead several times, he knew for sure he was still alive, but at the same time, he hurt so much, he almost wished whatever had happened had killed him.
He felt a hand on his forehead and a familiar voice murmuring. Dan managed to get both eyes open a fraction and saw an angel leaning over him, an angel with a police badge, that he recalled having recently seen naked.
“Stacey…” He rasped, attempting a smile, then wincing as his upper lip was split and his jaw ached.
“Hey,” She said back quietly, her smile genuine, while he eyes filmed over with tears. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”
“What…what happened…?” He muttered. “”I re-remember…got…uh… punched by a troll…”
“Of course you did,” Stacey said, perching on the edge of the bed.
Danny blinked and realized he was in a private hospital room. There was an IV in his left arm and a cast on his right, from his knuckles to his elbow.
“Where…?” He started.
“We got called in about a monster fight in the Bronx,” Stacey interrupted. “Something that looked like it came from middle earth jumped through a…portal of some kind and we found you, beaten half to death, in an alley. I convinced everyone you were caught in the middle of the fight, without mentioning Ghost Rider, and got you set up here. What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” Dan replied, shifting on the bed. Every move made him wince. “Got…a…a tip about the bridge…monster…beat the crap out of me and…did…something…feel…um…dunno…?”
“Take it easy,” Stacy said, in a worried tone as she stroked his arm. “We’ll figure this out…maybe you need to talk to Johnny or somebody…”
As she said that, Dan blinked, peered past her shoulder and saw the ghostly form of his older brother step through the wall.
Johnny was dressed in his blue leathers. He held a finger to his lips and then leaned back, arms crossed, waiting.
“Let me…um…think about it, okay?” Dan said, understandably distracted. “I’m feeling…tired.”
“Okay, I can take a hint,” She smiled, standing up. She kissed him on the forehead. “If there’s anything I can do, tell me. I’m the only one allowed to rough up my boyfriend.”
“Huh, ‘Boyfriend’…!” The phantom Johnny said, once the door had closed behind Stacey. “That Blaze family charm…!”
“Seriously…?” Dan muttered, struggling to sit up. “Even your ghost is a dick to me?”
“I’m not dead,” Johnny said. “In fact, I’m currently way healthier looking then you…damn, you really got your ass kicked!”
“Seriously, I hate you. Could I be haunted by the kid, instead?”
“You can talk to all of us,” Johnny said, reaching a translucent hand toward his brother. “That’s why I’m here.”
His fingers sank into his brothers’ forehead and Dan’s whole body arched like he’d received an electric shock.
When he opened his eyes, Dan Ketch was no longer in a hospital bed.
He was standing in a nearly empty drive-in theater parking lot. The noonday sun beat down on him and he shaded his eyes. There was a white horse, tied up to one of the speaker poles.
“Hey! Either turn around or learn to tie some knots!” His brother shouted from behind Dan. “I’ve suffered enough without having to look at your ass.”
Dan spun, realized he still wore just a hospital gown, his cast and an assortment of bandages.
Behind him was parked Robbie Reyes’ black charger. The teenager sat on the hood.
Hamilton Slade stood nearby, clad in his all white Ghost Rider ensemble. Danny noticed that his cape was torn to shreds.
His Brother, still wearing a punchable smirk, leaned against the car.
“What the hell is going on?” Danny snapped, awkwardly attempting to tie up the back of his hospital gown as he joined his teammates. “Why are we in a…waitaminute…didn’t we used to go to this drive-in as kids…?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Johnny shrugged. “Look, maybe Doctor Strange does this stuff all the time, but I am a novice. I’m just glad it worked.”
“Worked? What worked?” Dan protested. “Did you teleport me here?”
“We’re on the astral plane,” Slade explained. “One of my ancestors was able to jumpstart the link between us and lets us do this. Things are bad.”
“So, every one of us was attacked by the water guy?” Robbie asked.
“Water guy…?” Dan replied, confused. “No, it was a big, freakin’ troll…I think.”
“It was Salem’s Seven,” Johnny said, straightening up. “They’re a team created by a coven of witches…that part’s not important…the important bit is somebody sent them after us…and they did…something to us.”
“You guys feel it too?” Robbie said, sliding off his car hood to stand with the others. “It wasn’t just me? I’ve got this…I don’t know…hollow spot…”
“We all seem to have it,” Hamilton nodded, thoughtfully. “We need to find what it is.”
“Waitasec…!” Dan interrupted. “Salem’s Seven..? The guys controlled by…um… Nicholas Scratch…right?”
“Wait…what…?” Johnny exclaimed. “How do you know about Nicholas Scratch?”
‘Back when I was in the…uh…the Fantastic Four,” Dan shrugged. “Spider-man showed me how to use the computer and I checked out…um…what supernatural villains we might have to deal with…”
“Okay, what?!” Johnny interrupted again. “You were in the Fantastic Four? When did that happen? How desperate were they…?”
“It was back…wait…desperate?” Dan started then glared at his brother. “Look, I get the FF isn’t as big a deal as being one of the “Champions”, but…!”
“Could you two wait until we get this sorted out?” Hamilton interrupted. “Or preferably when I’m dead.”
“Or maybe explain what the &^%$ you are talking about?” Robbie added. “These Salem Seven guys are the ones that attacked us and who the hell are Salem’s Seven?”
The two other Ghost Riders glared at the two brothers, until they looked properly chagrined.
“Yeah, right,” Dan nodded. Glancing over at his brother. “Go ahead, you be exposition man.”
Jonny nodded.
“Salem’s Seven is a supernatural group,” He said. “They were created by a warlock named Nicholas Scratch, as protectors of a secret city of witches…it sounds weird when you say it out loud…anyway, they should all be dead…all of them, Scratch included…”
“So, they got better and decided to beat the crap out of us?” Robbie asked.
“Scratch has died before,” Hamilton Slade shrugged. “One of my ancestors put several bullets in him around 1910. “
“So, we know ‘who’, but not ‘why’.” Johnny nodded.
“I’m with the kid,” Dan said impatiently. “They did something to us…we should be figuring that out.”
“Why would Scratch come after any us?” Robbie asked. “I never heard of him…?”
“We might be looking through the wrong end of the telescope,” Hamilton nodded. “Instead of looking at them, we should be thinking about who’d want to come after us.”
“Well, that would be just about everybody,” Dan muttered. “I got on the wrong side of pretty much the entire supernatural community.”
“You got a gift, bro,” Johnny said.
“And I’ve been doing this for a couple centuries,” Hamilton added, thoughtfully.
Robbie leaned against his car, rubbing at a spot on his chest absently, while the other men talked around him. With his rogues’ gallery of two, he didn’t feel he had any helpful information. He felt like a sidekick since joining this team.
“That’s gotta be it…!” He muttered, banging his fist against the car door. “Jesus, we are idiots!”
“Watch the language, youngster,” Hamilton chided.
“Who’s an idiot?” Dan asked, with a challenging glare.
“The only thing that connects us is the four horsemen gig,” Robbie said, starting to pace as he talked. “If what they…um…took or did to us didn’t mess with our…powers…the whole horseman…thing…”
He paused and glanced up at his teammates, .
“Am I saying stuff you already know? I sound like a retard…don’t I…?”
“No, “ Slade said. “I think you got something…”
“We’ve been thinking this was a revenge deal,” Johnny Blaze said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Because, let’s face it, there are a lot of people that want Dan and I dead.”
“This is all about us being the horsemen…!” Slade frowned, crossing his arms. “That makes it worse…”
“Great, what do we do about it?” Dan grumbled.
“If they messed with us or, more likely, took…something from us, then we know where this ends…” Johnny muttered.
“The door,” Robbie nodded, with a slight shiver.
“We need to figure this out before it gets to there,” Slade added, grimly.
“Great, how?” Dan snapped. “Where do we look? Who are we looking for?”
“How about you stop running your mouth and start thinking?” Johnny told him. “We need to find a way to track the Seven. We need to catch them before they get to the door!”
“I…might know…someone,” Robbie nervously suggested. “Maybe, she could help…?”
“That’s a start,” Johnny nodded, then glanced back over at his surly sibling. “How about you?”
The two men shared a glare, emotions bubbling below the surface that both knew would have to be dealt with at a later time.
Danny shrugged and ran a hand over his stubbly chin.
“Yeah, I think I know a guy.”
“What about the door?” Slade asked. “I keep thinking we should have someone watching it, but if the Seven are watching us, we’d be leading them right to it.”
“Yeah, probably,” Johnny nodded. “Let’s leave it alone long as we can.”
“What if we find something?” Robbie asked.
“Get hold of somebody,” Slade said, glancing from the teenager to the two brothers. “Nobody tackles this alone. Nobody! This is bigger then any man’s pride.”
Once he got agreement from the others, the old cowboy tipped his Stetson and faded.
“Talk to you soon,” Robbie said, climbing into his car. The minute the engine revved, both car and driver faded away.
“We can all do this ‘ magic conference call’ trick?” Dan asked.
Johnny nodded.
“When were you planning on telling the rest of us?” Dan asked, an angry tone creeping into his voice.
“Maybe waiting for you to act like you gave a damn about being part of this team.” Johnny said. Then he was gone.
Dan returned to his hospital bed, irritable and frustrated. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and then winced as he pulled out his IV.
“Gonna need some pants if I want to save the world.” He grumbled.
Somewhere in Los Angeles, a young woman in fashionably distressed cut-offs and t-shirt was sitting on the curb eating the lunch she’d gotten from a nearby food truck.
“Fish tacos…?” A voice asked from over her shoulder. “Maybe you’re evil after all.”
Seer looked up from her lunch and cast a sullen glare at Robbie Reyes.
“What do you want?” She asked. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? I’m not trustworthy, remember…?”
“I don’t trust you to watch my brother or care about my family,” Robbie said, sitting down next to her. “You suck at it. How about the part where you’re supposed to be my advisor on the supernatural? You any good at that?”
“What do you want?” Seer asked.
“Salem’s Seven came after the Riders and beat the crap out of us.” Robbie explained.
“Salem’s Seven…?” Seer asked, looking up at Robbie, her moodiness cracking and hints of concern and thoughtfulness leaking out.
“Don’t tell me they’re dead,” Robbie frowned. “I’ve heard.”
“No, I’d heard the rumors,” she replied. “But, the Seven need a…master, a sponsor of some kind…they can’t access their spell without one.”
“Yeah, Nicholas Scratch.”
“No, he’s dead,” Seer said, shaking her head and then taking a bite of taco while she thought. “Pretty sure…he may have been banished to the dark realms…?”
“So, who’s controlling the Seven?” Robbie asked frustrated that they seemed to be back where they started.
“Let me ask around,” She said. “If they went after all four Riders, that’s serious magical energy…there has to be ripples we can trace…that’s my soda…!”
“Um…yeah, I was just…” Robbie muttered, pausing with the straw inches away from his mouth.
“I’m only your mystical advisor. Get your own Dr. Pepper.”
Dan Ketch, back in his own clothes, sat on a park bench, glancing across the street at his girlfriends’ apartment building. He needed help, but at the same time knew Stacy must know he snuck out of the hospital and not sure if he wanted to face the lecture he had coming enough to ask for her help.
“You’ve had a rough day,” Doctor Druid said, handing him a takeout coffee.
“So, is your magic sanctum a Starbucks?” Dan asked, accepting the hot beverage and taking a grateful sip.
“I’m sorry your…encounter went so badly,” Druid said, joining Dan on the bench.
“Yeah, we need to talk about that,” Dan nodded, grimly. “What did you know that you didn’t bother to tell me?”
“What?” the older man asked, taken aback. “You think I set you up to be attacked?”
“Tell me again how your time on the Avengers ended?” Dan asked with a significant glance. “You have a shaky rep and our first go round landed me in the hospital. You really need to give me a reason to trust you and/or not kick your ass.”
Druid studied the other man for several seconds, pondering how serious Dan Ketch was and what was the best way to respond.
He looked away, and took a sip of his coffee.
“I do admit, I misread the situation,” Doctor Druid said, in a subdued tone. “The creature’s appearance seemed too convient…I used you to draw it out…”
“I was bait?”
“A bit, but it was more because I didn’t think you were the intended target,” Druid explained. “I felt it was occurring too coincidently close to my own return…”
“You let me get beat up because you thought you were the target?” Dan asked, grimly.
“I’m not proud of it,” Druid admitted. “I thought whoever was targeting me, would send a mystic, so a more physical opponent would be able to deal with it.”
He shrugged.
“I misjudged things, but there was no evil intent, merely ego.” Doctor Druid frowned and took another sip of his coffee. “I am sorry for that.”
“So, did that hurt a lot?” Dan asked, with grim humor. “Having to admit you made a mistake?”
“Are all the Ghost Riders this insufferable?” Druid asked in reply. “Maybe it’s not too late to approach the one with the car…?”
“So, you aren’t evil,” Dan nodded. “Good to know. And you owe me a favor: so tell me all you know about Salem’s Seven.”
“I thought that beast looked familiar,” Druid muttered, stroking his beard in thought. “Salem’s Seven is not so much a group, as a spell…an energy, that requires a set of host forms as well as someone to focus…”
“This Nickolas Scratch guy people keep mentioning?” Dan asked.
“He was the spell’s originator, a powerful warlock, but I thought he was dead…or banished…?”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.” Dan muttered. “We need to find them and Nick or whoever is running the show now. Can you do that?”
Druid’s brow furrowed in thought for several moments.
“Should be able to trace the spell…there will be traces where you fought Bruticus.” Druid mused, standing up. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Fair enough,” Dan said, as the other hero walked away. “Not sure if I trust that guy, but, man, this is good coffee…!”
Hamilton Slade drove his pick-up truck out into the desert.
He climbed out, still a bit stiff and sore from his recent fight.
He limped up a rocky incline, slowly, deliberately, as though he was following a call or walking a path that was faded and hard to see.
At the top of the hill was a coyote.
It was lying on its side, panting laboriously. Its fur matted with blood and one of its eyes was crusted shut.
Slade knelt down next to the wounded animal.
“What happened to you…?” He muttered, placing his knapsack on the ground and beginning to rummage through it.
“Who…?” The coyote said, struggling to raise its head and blink its eyes. “Slade…is that you, old man?”
“So, what stupidity led to this?” The cowboy asked in reply.
“Helping you.” Coyote said.
Slade stopped and looked at the battered animal.
“Salem’s Seven came after you for helping me…?” He muttered thoughtfully. “What do you know? Where is Scratch hiding? What is he up to?”
“Not…hnn…not Scratch,” Coyote rasped.
Slade took a battered flask out of his knapsack and unscrewed the cap. He held it underneath coyote’s snout.
“Whu…? Whiskey…you are my favorite human,” It said.
Slade poured a couple drops down the coyote’s throat.
“So, you still think this isn’t your fight?” He asked.
“Mmmm…nobody likes a ‘I told you so’,” Coyote grumbled after licking his snout. He shifted his head so he could glare at Slade with his good eye.
“I don’t have time for games,” Slade said, sternly. “We are on the clock here. No clever riddles or vague stories. You are either helping me or I’ll leave the bottle and be on my way.”
Slade held the mythical beings’ gaze and after several moments got slowly to his feet.
“Wait,” Coyote muttered, sullenly.
“I’m waiting.” Slade said, not walking away, but not leaning back down either. He stood over the creature, like a stern parent.
Coyote grumbled under its breath, before sighing in defeat.
“Forget looking for Scratch.” Coyote muttered. “He did not summon the Seven…and before you ask, I do not know who it is…I’ve tasted traces, felt the wind of his passing through the realms, but he is new to me.”
“If you don’t have a name, tell me what you can,” Slade asked, squatting down. He gave his friend another sip of whiskey.
“He is powerful…whatever he is, he does not care about the boundaries.” Coyote replied.
“Alright,” Slade nodded, straightening up. “Get some rest and try and stay out of trouble.”
Coyote gave a faint bark of laughter as the old cowboy walked away. Using his front paws, he pulled the flask closer.
Johnny Blaze sat on the steps of his trailer. His bruises were minor, but he was feeling at a loss of what his next step should be.
Since his return as one of the four horsemen, Johnny had made his focus the non-supernatural aspects of his life. He’d almost actively avoided interacting with any heroes, either mystical or super. Despite, being seen as de facto leader of the Riders and the one with the most connections to the hero community, he had no idea where to go from here.
His mind drifted, trying to remember if he still had that college Professor’s number…realizing he needed a shave…maybe Alejandra could connect him with someone…oh crap, Roxy’s birthday was next week…!
“This is getting me nowhere,” He muttered, standing up.
As he did, he heard the purr of a motorcycle from behind his trailer, away from the track where the Thunder Riders were practicing. Between his trailer and his neighbors’, Johnny saw a blur of midnight black.
Frowning, he stepped between the two trailers. Up on the hill a figure on a black bike had rolled to a halt, the rider, peering down at Johnny as though waiting for him.
“The Marauder…!” Johnny breathed, beginning to trudge up the hill.
The figure was dressed all in black: leathers, gloves, boots, helmet, facemask; even its goggles were tinted black. No hint was given of the figure beneath.
The bike was black and chrome and shown like it was brand new.
The black clad biker waited patiently until Johnny Blaze reached the top of the grassy hill.
He stood facing the black rider.
“So, what happens now?” Johnny asked.
The Marauder sat on his bike, intently staring at Blaze, who attempted to meet his gaze. Despite knowing that the mysterious rider was just a host, powered by the collective mental energy of the Thunder Riders, he found the man in black’s gaze unnerving.
“We just going to stare at each other?”
The Marauder nodded, and revved his bike, rolling off down the path into the woods.
Johnny frowned, then shrugged and followed after.
The dirt track was narrow and the forest crowded it on either side.
In a small clearing, the Marauder parked his bike and stood near the trees. When Johnny joined him, he could see through the trees that they were on a little hill looking down at the place he was attacked by the Salem’s Seven.
“Okay, you had a ringside seat and let me get slapped around,” Johnny shrugged. “Is this supposed to be helpful or convince me you are on my side?”
The Marauder held a finger to where his lips would be behind the mask and then pointed down the hill.
As sunlight drifted through the gaps in the branches Johnny’s brow furrowed as he saw patches in the air that sparkled.
“What the hell…?” He muttered. He then jogged down the hill, crashing through bushes and struggling to keep from stumbling.
He reached the lower area and cocking his head and narrowing his eyes caught glimpses of the patches of odd energy.
“They left traces…!” He breathed thoughtfully. “However they are…teleporting… does leave traces…!”
He fumbled about, digging his cell phone out of his pocket.
“Come on…come on…hey, Slade!” He said. “I got something!”
He glanced up the hill, but the Marauder was gone.
Later, Robbie and Seer were back at the track.
Robbie felt weird and uncomfortable, being there during the day. He paced uneasily as he talked on his phone.
“Okay, I…uh…don’t…yeah, hold on,” He turned and offered the phone to Seer. “Here, talk to him. He’s trying to explain magic and I…?”
Robbie shrugged.
The young mystic rolled her eyes and took the phone. She talked for several minutes, nodding thoughtfully.
“Okay, got it. Thanks, Bye.”
Robbie looked at her expectantly for a few seconds.
Seer peered at him with a mix of disdain and an expectation of her own.
“Fine,” He muttered. “Could you please tell me what he said? Will it help?”
“Yes,” She said, nodding thoughtfully. “But, it’s also going to tell them you’re coming. You guys need to be ready for that.”
“I hope we are,” Robbie frowned. “Nothing about this sounds good.”
Danny Ketch walk along the city streets, talking on his cell phone.
“Yeah, that’s what she thinks,” He said. “Can you two coordinate things and show us where we need to go…yeah, I know that Seer’s family aren’t entirely trustworthy, but I’m trusting you and you got a bunch of Avengers killed…hold on, I’m getting another call…just talk to her!”
He frowned and tapped at his phone.
“Yeah, John, what now?” He asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, annoyed pedestrians walking around him. “Yeah, I talked to Druid. If he and Seer don’t kill each other, they should be able to pull this off. Plus, I talked to Stacey and all their info on Scratch has him dead too…so sick of being in the dark about this! Yeah, I’m angry! I got beat bloody! We know where this is heading! They can be after only one thing. Why’re we playing detective? Yeah, I’m heading there. Somebody needs to keep an eye on it. That’s where I’m gonna be if you need me!”
He clicked his phone angrily and looked around, spotting a narrow alley, where he could summon his bike…
Johnny shut off his phone and frowned at the distant horizon.
“Jackass…!” He muttered.
“How is your brother?” Georgia asked, from her camp chair. She held a hand up to shade her eyes from the sun as she glanced over at him.
“Aarrggh,” Johnny sighed. “Why do I talk him?”
“Family is fun,” The young African-American said, with a smile. “This family trouble or spooky trouble?”
“Spooky,” Johnny said. “I’m gonna need to head out for a little bit. Hopefully, I can sort this out in a couple days.”
“Cowboy and Reddy are going to fume,” She said, thoughtfully. “But, we knew you had a second job.”
“I just rather deal with this then worry about it.” He said. “It’s already hit close to home once, hate it to happen again.”
“Do what you have to do.” She shrugged. “If you can save the world by Saturday, that’d be cool, but we’ll deal with it if you have to skip a show.”
“Thanks,” Johnny smiled back. “The Thunder Riders are lucky to have you.”
“Be sure the next time you say that my husband is around.” She smiled back.
Johnny Blaze made a fist, which then burst into flame. A blast of hellfire transformed his bike and them himself.
Ghost Rider raced through the streets of New York, until he reached a cemetery in Brooklyn. He raced past the caretaker, who leaned on his shovel, watching the passing demon worriedly.
He drove along down increasingly narrower dirt lanes, through strands of leafless trees, the stones becoming older and more worn.
At a far corner of this city of the dead, was a hummock, overgrown with grass. An ancient wooden door was set into this little hill.
Ghost Rider rolled to a halt and walked his flaming motorcycle up to the door. He held a gloved hand towards the wrought iron door handle. As he grasped the handle his hand blazed with golden light. The door opened and the skull-headed hero stepped through.
The black Dodge charger pulled into the garage and Robbie and Seer climbed out.
They walked through the house, and then took the stairs down to the basement.
In the far corner, Robbie pushed a stack of dusty cardboard boxes aside, revealing an ancient, wooden door with an iron handle instead of a doorknob.
Robbie clenched his fists and with a burst of flame transferred into Ghost Rider.
“If I come back,” He intoned. “And find out you neglected Gabe again…!”
“Fine,” She muttered, sullenly. “I will watch over the portal and your little brother.”
“And…?”
“And…I will…watch Pokémon with him.” Seer said, through gritted teeth.
Robbie nodded and turned back towards the door.
Hamilton Slade’s pickup truck drove along the dirt road. There were long, empty stretches with the occasional plain, two story house.
Being a white man on the reservation, got him a few curious looks, but Slade was a regular visitor, so there was no suspicion or hostility. Several people waved, as he drove past.
The truck slowed down at the end of a dirt driveway.
A Native-American man, in denim work clothes walked towards the truck, nodding in greeting, as Slade climbed out.
The only out of the ordinary things about him, was he carried an ancient coup stick, a long staff with a strand of rawhide twisted around decorated with several eagle feathers at the end.
The other was that the dog ambling along after him was in fact a young wolf.
“Will,” Slade said in greeting.
“What kind of trouble are you in now?” The other man asked.
William Talltrees was also the super hero, Red Wolf. He was a teammate of the Ghost Rider’s on the western-based hero team, the Rangers.
The Rangers were scattered and rarely worked together, but remained friends and willing to help each other out when needed.
“I don’t know,” Slade shrugged, as they, followed by the wolf, walked towards the house. “Don’t know exactly what we’re up against, but it all feels bad.”
“Should I call the others?” Red Wolf asked.
“No, this is Rider business,” Slade frowned. “We need to sort this out, one way or another.”
The two men walked around the house to an ancient looking, wooden teepee structure, a medicine lodge.
“It’s just where you left it,” Red Wolf said, with a grim smile. “The wards are untouched.”
“Appreciate it,” Slade said, shaking his friend’s hand.
He ducked his head to enter the lodge, transforming into his ghostly alter ego as he did. Set into the dirt floor of the lodge was a heavy wooden door. The western hero opened it and stepped through.
The plain was sandy, devoid of any but the scraggliest, patches of vegetation. It seemed to stretch for miles. There was a feeling in the air, that there was a body of water, just beyond the far hills, a distant sound of water lapping a shore, a slight tang of salt in the air.
A light breeze ruffled his cape and he could hear the familiar sound of arguing.
Sighing, the western hero turned to see the two brothers, both in their Ghost Rider forms grumbling at each other.
A bit away from them, their bikes were parked, along with Robbie and his black car and, a bit to Slade’s surprise, his horse Phantom.
“They been doing this long?” He asked Robbie, who was leaning on the roof of the black dodger.
“Since I got here.” The youngest Ghost Rider sighed.
Slade nodded, walked around the car to the two brothers, once he reached them, he drew a six-gun and fired several shots into the air.
Startled, the two turned to look at the new arrival.
“I am getting real tired of this,” He snapped.
“Somebody ditched the plan and decided to run off and guard the portal!” Johnny exclaimed, pointing a flaming finger at his brother.
“I’m sorry, “boss!” Danny snarled back, the halo of flame around his skull burning whitely. “While you were playing detective, somebody should be here! Next time I’ll clear it with you.”
“Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t have had to go chasing after you to see what knuckleheaded stunt you’d decided to pull this time!” Johnny growled back.
“And if the two of you could get along for more then five minutes,” Slade snapped. “Then I wouldn’t have to keep playing referee!”
“And then maybe I could…!” Robbie added, before stopping confused. “Why did I come here…?”
He glanced up in puzzlement, stopped in surprise and then hurried over to his teammates.
“Hey!” He shouted, slamming his flaming fists together. “Look!”
The flash of fire caught their attention.
He pointed upwards.
The cloudless blue sky was crowded with towering, ethereal figures. Celestial Angels, burning so bright it almost hurt to look at them. Dark, skulking, slithering forms that even at this distance reeked of brimstone.
Cosmic entities, the enormous floating heads of Chaos and Order as well as their two-sided herald, the In-Betweener, a representative of the all seeing Watchers, and tinier figures that appeared to be members of various pantheons and Elders of the universe.
“That can’t be good,” Danny muttered. “What do they know that we don’t?”
“Coyote was right,” Slade added. “We just didn’t realize how big a ripple we caused in the pond.”
“Um…I think we might’ve been played,” Robbie muttered, uneasily.
The air felt heavy, as though, despite its cloudless nature, a storm was coming.
A light flared, like a star going nova and Salem’s Seven attacked!
Hydron blasted the parked motorcycles with his water-cannon hand, knocking them over, as well as extinguishing their hellfire!
Bruticus plowed through the quartet, scattering them like bowling pins, before focusing his rage at Danny Ketch.
Vertigo glided forward, her eyes glowing with blue energy that caused the world beneath the Riders to tilt wildly.
Hamilton Slade squinted hard and moved a trembling hand towards his gun belt. Pulling out his white six-gun, he fired at the African-American woman in the white gown.
Her head snapped back as the ghost bullet passed through her forehead. She was caught, before she collapsed to the ground by a green woman with writhing snakes for arms.
The four Riders lurched to their feet and moved to stand in a back-to-back square.
Robbie and Danny created a circle of fire around them.
“Okay, this is bad,” Robbie breathed. “What’s the plan?”
“My plan is kicking that big troll’s ass!” Danny said, pulling free his hellfire chain and plunging through the wall of fire at Bruticus.
“I think it’s ‘try not to get killed’ and hopefully make sense of this,” Johnny said, pulling his sawed off shotgun from the scabbard on his back. “Our bikes may be down, go for your car!”
Johnny absorbed the hellfire and the trio raced to meet their attackers.
Johnny shot at the armored Vakume, who merely went intangible to avoid the blast. Hydron, who had been standing behind him was not so lucky and went staggering backwards, his water gun hand firing wildly, striking teammate and enemy alike. A blast sent Robbie down to his knees, and the next sent Reptilla and Vertigo tumbling backwards.
The nimble Gazelle easily dodged the blasts, moving like a dancer amongst the chaos. Leaping over the fray, she landed between Robbie and his charger.
“You’re going no farther, little boy,” She said.
Robbie hunched forward, his fists engulfed in flame. His anger came up against his reluctance to punch a girl.
“Maybe, I don’t need to,” He told her, snapping his finger.
Her eyes grew wipe at the noise of a racing engine coming up behind her. She turned, wide-eyed at the black car roaring at her. Gazelle leapt, attempted to run across the roof and hood, winced and stumbled, as the metal was awash in flames.
Robbie dove in and then, scattering the various other members of Salem’s Seven, drove for Slade.
The ghostly cowboy was firing his guns, keeping his cool amidst the melee, and carefully picking his shots. He mostly concentrated on taking down the mini-missiles fired by Thornn. Several shots hit the snakehead hands of Reptila, keeping her out of the fight.
The black Dodger skidded to a halt, between Slade and Thornn.
“Hey! Need a ride?” Robbie asked.
Slade holstered one gun to open the door, while still firing with the other.
“Where we going?” Robbie asked.
“I need to get my horse,” The older man said, firing out the window as they drove.
The white stallion, startled by the sudden exit of the black Dodge charger raced around the edges of the battle, searching for its partner, Slade. Occasionally, a combatant would stumble into the horse’s path.
Phantom reared up, hooves flashing as Hydron lunged forward, attempting to escape from Johnny Blaze rather then to challenge the ghostly steed.
Startled, Hyrdon swung his gun hand, striking the horse across the snout.
“Did you just hit my horse?” Slade asked the green scaly villain, before bringing the butt of his gun down on Hydron’s green, finned head.
Dazed, Hydron dropped to his knees. Slade planted his boot between Hydron’s shoulder blades, sending him face first to the ground.
“One down, six to go,” Slade sighed, patting his horse. “We still got work to do, fella.”
In the midst of all this chaos, Danny Ketch and Bruticus were focused only their rematch.
Dan burned like an inferno, wielding his chain, like a whip. The ground all around them was scorched and smoky, as was Bruticus. The two were oblivious to everything but their opponent. You could practically feel the ground shake as they struck each other.
Johnny thought his brother was an idiot to attempt it, but still did his best to keep other members of Salem’s Seven away.
Slade was a precise shooter. Johnny was wiling to settle for fanning his shotgun blasts and trying not to hit his friends. The only member of the Seven he had focused on was Vertigo, who could upset the whole balance of the fight, if she was allowed to get her to feet. Vakume and Gazelle both seemed to have reached that same conclusion and were fighting fiercely to protect and revive her.
With Slade busy shooting it out with Thornn; Johnny worked to get Robbie’s attention and gesturing for him to help.
Robbie was struggling with Reptilla, his car turning tight doughnuts around the Snake-woman, as her elongagated snake arms lashed out.
“We don’t have time for this,” Johnny muttered, firing full blast at Reptilla. She was turning and the blast caught her in the side.
She screeched and writhed like some grotesque punctured balloon.
Robbie screeched to a halt, relieved, startled and then unsure what to do next.
“Hit them!” Johnny shouted, pointing at the trio of Vertigo, Gazelle and Vakume.
Robbie hesitated, but his car contained a more bloodthirsty spirit. The black Dodge launched itself at the three, while the youngest Ghost Rider struggled to hold wheel.
The black car plowed through the villains. They flew through the air like ragdolls.
The car skidded to a halt, sideswiping Thornn, who went down as one of Slade’s ghost bullets caught him in the chest.
“That it? We won?” Robbie asked.
“Not quite,” Slade replied, pointing over to Danny and Bruticus.
“Yeah…um…I don’t want to get between those two.” Robbie muttered.
Still oblivious to events around them, the two traded blows locked in their own berserker rage.
“I got this,” Johnny said, raising one gloved hand. His ghost cycle burst into flame and raced towards the trio. Blaze leapt unto his bike and roared towards the battling pair. He sent the bike into a skid, jumping free right before it caught Bruticus behind the knees. As he stumbled, Danny Ketch lunged at the beast man, riding him to the ground, pummeling Bruticus with flaming fists wrapped in chain, the whole way.
Johnny nudged him off his fallen foe with the butt of his shotgun.
“Feel better?” He asked. “Got that out of your system?”
His brother glared at him for a moment, before nodding.
“Actually, yeah.”
He then raised his arms upwards and let loose a blast of hellfire.
“Come on, Scratch! Show yourself!”
“We still have an audience,” Robbie muttered, looking upwards, at the cosmic spectators, as he got out of his car.
“Let’s see if things are as bad as we thought,” Slade said, climbing down off his horse. He held out a hand. It began to glow with a pure, golden light.
The air in front of them shimmered and a door appeared. It looked similar to the ones that brought them to this place, but heavier, older. It was adorned with a heavy, iron padlock, as well as several bolts. It gave off the feeling that there was something contained behind it, something pushing, straining against the ancient oak and iron that would come bursting out, if the door was ever opened. It practically vibrated with the effort.
“Nothing’s changed,” Danny grunted.
“Except that we just showed them how it find it,” Johnny Blaze muttered, looking around. “Robbie, I think you were right…we’ve been played. It was all about getting us here and showing them the door.”
“Scratch…!” Danny said, grinding his teeth so hard, it raised sparks.
“Here! You want him so badly!”
Another portal opened and a form, emancipated to the point of being flesh stretched over brittle bones, chained and gagged, dropped at their feet.
The body trembled, looking up at the four Riders with rheumy, fearful eyes.
“Scratch…!” Slade breathed. “He is alive!”
“Barely, from the looks of him.” Johnny added.
“Look at him!” Robbie said. “He’s messed up! It wasn’t him! Who’s behind all this crap then?”
“That would be me!”
The owner of the voice, stepped out of the portal, strolled through the air to stand before the supernatural quartet.
He was tall and quite thin, with an enlarged skull and a prominent forehead. He wore a tight blue and purple bodysuit. His eyes were large and pupil-less. His mouth was wide, with a smile that hinted at madness.
“Who the hell is that?” Danny growled in confusion, his hand flaring with flame.
“Maelstrom, at your service!” The tall man said, with an exaggerated bow. He then straightened up, raised his hand, golden energy playing across his long fingers. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to step aside… or be so gentlemanly as to hold the door open for me…?”
To be concluded…