577

Johnny Blaze

In a rustic cabin, Johnny Blaze sat sipping on strong liquor. Across from him sat an elderly man with white hair and a grizzled beard, looking weathered and wise.

They seemed to have exhausted most topics of conversation, with only a little liquor left in their glasses.

After a pause, Johnny gestured wildly, hiccupping between words, "Carter, ever fallen off a motorcycle? Hiccup."

"No," replied Carter Slay.

"But I've fallen off a horse. I imagine it's somewhat similar," he remarked.

Johnny waved his hand emphatically, "No way. You probably never rode a motorcycle. It's way more thrilling than a horse... I'm a stunt driver, flew over six helicopters on my bike."

"I still remember my first stunt gone wrong. Crashed into a wall at over 100 kilometers per hour. Remembered every brick shape on that wall. Even my brain hurt."

Finishing his drink, Johnny continued, "I thought it was a hallucination, maybe even a dream, 'cause I didn't even have a scratch."

"Later found out my skull was cracked in that crash, but devil's power kept me alive."

Carter Slay nodded knowingly, "I know that feeling. Devil's power makes a man as indestructible as fire, but doesn't numb the pain."

Johnny shook the last drops in his glass, sighed, delving back into memories.

He'd bargained his soul to Mephisto, ruler of Hell, to save his dying father, only to be duped.

Father had briefly recovered, only to die tragically the next day. Accident? Johnny suspected demonic trickery, but he was powerless. Devil promised to cure cancer, not grant immortality.

Since then, he'd inherited father's legacy and borne the Devil's contract, becoming the "Ghost Rider," a title of honor and torment.

"Ding dong ding dong." Phone rang.

Roseanne.

Seeing her caller ID, Johnny snapped alert, answered swiftly, "Roxanne, I-"

But it wasn't Roseanne. A sinister voice, operatic and cold, cut in.

"Ghost Rider, Johnny Blaze. Your girl's with me. Hand over the Van Vangaza Contract or lose her."

"Blackheart!" Johnny paled.

"Let her speak." Blackheart's demand gave way to Roseanne's voice, "Johnny—"

Her voice cut short. Blackheart's voice returned, "Bring the contract to me, now."

Johnny clenched his phone, seething, "Damn it!"

"What'll you do?" Carter Slay asked, calm. "Contract's in your hands now."

Johnny mulled, unsure.

Loved Roxanne deeply, yearned to repair their rift, yet Ghost Rider's curse hindered.

Save Roxanne, fail Carter's trust and the Contract's charge.

Carter Slay sensed Johnny's turmoil, didn't press, "Old man with few days left. Your call. No wrong choice."

Head bowed, Johnny sighed, "Sorry, Carter... Can't lose Roxanne."

Carter Slay, unfazed, "Then go. Do what's right. Avert the worst."

"Thanks." Johnny exhaled, rising to leave.

"Wait." Carter Slay halted him, rising. "I'll ride with you."

Johnny nodded. Both mounted. One on bike, one on horse, set out for St. Vincent's village in the night.

Flames erupted, faces twisted into fiery skeletons, hellbound knights.

Even fire claimed their mounts, leaving blazing trails in night's dark.

Surprised, Johnny found Carter Slay's horse matched his bike's pace.

Carter Slay smiled, subtle to all but Johnny, mere flicker in his skull's flames.

Soon, they arrived at St. Van Vangaza village, dawn nearing.

Distant ruin, St. Van Vangaza resting place.

"There." Carter Slay's tone held history.

"Peaceful once, 'til Hell and Heaven's gates found it. Angel and demon's final stop..."

Johnny stared at the Contract, his grip firm.

"My strength's gone." Carter Srey's fire waned. He offered Johnny an old flintlock pistol, last bullet inside.

"One shot. Make it count."