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Ghost Rider. Chapter 40. Everyone lies
🕑 Added 2025-05-04 16:20:51 +0000 UTC3600 words.
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The wild jungle hissed with moisture and heat. All around were thick thickets, and snakes slithered along the trees in search of meat. A dull rumble of a river echoed from afar, while insects rustled under the leaves.
The sky had darkened—soon a thunderstorm would begin.
Amid the trees stood an old wooden hut, nearly grown together with the forest. Through the open window, Thor could be seen drinking beer and sharpening an axe.
A grenade flew into the hut.
BOOM!
Birds shrieked and scattered away from the explosion. The hut was blown to splinters. Out of the fire and smoke emerged Thor—charred but unharmed, every muscle streaked with soot. A regular grenade hadn’t even managed to damage his pants. He swung his axe to clear the smoke and grinned, as if the blast had just signaled the start of some fun.
The Midnight Suns approached him. John in a black suit with a red tie. Jane in a blue T-shirt with a print of a lightning bolt piercing a heart. Cain in a mobster outfit with a felt hat. And finally Mary, who had perfected her super look: to her ever-present golden accessories she had added white shorts and a green glittery tank top. She now looked like a trendy pop star—which had always been the goal.
“Dressed up,” Thor snorted, eyeing the glitter and hats. “That’s how you’ll look in your coffins.”
“I’m not taking fashion advice from a hobo in ripped sweatpants,” John scoffed. “What are you standing there for, dumbass? We’re here to kick your ass. Or did the grenade knock that out of your head?”
“Your attack was obvious. Heimdall saw you discussing the plan with the Sorcerer Supreme. I’ve been expecting you,” Thor said, raising his axe. “There are no people in these jungles. I don’t have to hold back.”
He smirked and lifted his axe high.
“Heimdall, unlock eighty percent of my power!”
Lightning struck the axe with a shriek, and the air screamed with tension. The whole clearing lit up like a rock concert stage. Lightning covered his body so thickly, his face was no longer visible. Thor’s power blackened the ferns, made the trees swell, and caused a flock of birds to fall from the sky before reaching the clouds.
That was twenty percent more power than Thor had unleashed last time. The Midnight Suns didn’t even flinch. They were ready.
Thor struck with lightning through his axe.
Jane struck with lightning through her hammer.
Collision. Sparks. A flash. The two attacks canceled each other out.
John smiled beneath his mask.
[Jane is my lightning rod. She’ll deflect all ranged attacks. Come on, golden boy—your move.]
Thor lunged forward like a bolt of lightning—closing the distance in a flash, his face twisted with fury.
Cain, without blinking, clapped his hands. Crimson crystals burst from the ground like claws of an ancient beast. They closed into a wall and absorbed the blow. A flash—and everything was engulfed in blinding light. A perfect defense surrounded the whole team.
Thor struck the crystal—first, second, third time. Useless. All sparks of lightning were shattered on impact.
Alas, the enchanted axe wasn’t destroyed. Clearly, it was an extremely powerful artifact.
Thor soared into the sky. To his surprise, Juggernaut launched after him like a rocket and sent Thor crashing down with a powerful right hook. Clumps of dirt and grass flew into the air.
“You’re not the only one who can fly around here, rooster,” Cain grinned, showing off his ruby-colored Brass Knuckles of Cyttorak.
[Jane taught us how to fully use our artifacts—including size and shape-shifting.]
Thor quickly rose from the crater in the ground—only to find he couldn’t move. Ice had bound his legs.
“Where… from?” he whispered, bewildered.
“Ice can punish too,” Ghost Rider said smugly, running a hand along the Cross of Zarathos, whose elongated chain now doubled as his belt. “Mary, light him up!”
Her golden belt, studded with pink M’Kraan Crystals, shone brightly. The Phoenix Princess soared into the air on fiery wings, spinning around Thor and showering him with flames from her palms.
His roar drowned out the thunder of the flames. He fought like a wounded lion, but the chains of cold sank deeper with every second, and the heat scorched his flesh down to the bone.
The fiery vortex grew hotter. John increased the ice’s pressure. Such an extreme temperature shift would tear even the son of a god apart.
“Heimdall!” Thor bellowed.
A white lightning bolt struck down from the sky into the vortex of fire and ice. The entire forest vanished into fog.
Thor unleashed one hundred percent of his power.
He rose from the crater, vaporizing ice with a single breath. His armor of lightning no longer sparked—it blazed like pure daylight. His eyes glowed with white-hot fury.
“Four against one?” Thor growled. “You fight worse than dogs!”
Thor became pure rage. Faster than lightning. Heavier than thunder. But it wasn’t enough. For more power, he fed his humanity to the beast within.
There was no longer a prince of Asgard—only a berserker, bloodthirsty and wild.
The axe flew at Jane faster than the Crimson Crystals of Cyttorak could rise to defend her. She managed to block it with her hammer, but lost her balance—only for a millisecond, but that was enough.
A white lightning bolt struck from above, shattering John’s mask and roasting him to a crisp.
Cain charged at Thor like a battering ram, hoping to strike before the axe returned—but he didn’t need to. Thor clenched his fist and punched Cain in the chest. He crashed through one tree, then another, and another. The ground trembled as he slammed into a cliff.
Mary didn’t even have time to prepare for the blow. With a scream, she was launched into the river. Her fiery wings sizzled out in a hiss.
Only Jane remained on the battlefield, gripping her hammer with both hands and staring into the berserker’s eyes.
Thor charged with his axe. Sparks flew with every clash of artifacts. Two bolts of lightning cancelled each other out. But the fighters were not equal. Thor needed only one hand to wield his axe and press forward. With his free hand, he grabbed her hair and, snarling, began smashing her face into the dirt like a blacksmith hammering iron on an anvil. The ground cracked. Something cracked inside her too.
Thor flung her aside and focused on a new target.
John was already back on his feet. One look was all he needed to assess the situation and make the right call.
“Retreat!” John barked, opening a portal.
The berserker had no intention of letting his prey go until their bones were crushed into dust. Thor dove after the four fleeing figures into the portal.
The berserker found himself in the middle of a hellish plain—where the four fugitives transformed into artifacts and flew into the hands of their true owners: the real Midnight Suns.
The portal closed.
John smirked. Just as planned. It had been the clones—artifact projections—that entered the jungle, designed to push Thor into berserker mode and lure him into the trap. Here, Heimdall’s all-seeing magic didn’t work. He couldn’t pull his prince out. All it took was faking weakness to convince Heimdall that Thor had the upper hand—and let him go in for the kill.
[I wonder—will Odin execute him on the spot once he learns his precious boy’s gone missing?]
Drunk on battle, Thor charged forward. The Midnight Suns looked at him with calm disdain. They no longer had to hide their strength. Against four full avatars of infinity, the raging brute was as helpless as a kitten.
Thor hacked and slashed, kicked and bit. The Midnight Suns stood around him, arms crossed—not a single drop of their blood spilled.
John had become living ice—his breath froze even Hell itself. Jane was a bolt of sparking lightning. Cain, an indestructible crystal. Mary, eternal fire.
[We became pure elements. The highest mastery of using an infinity artifact. Elemental form heavily damages the soul—but that doesn’t matter when Mary can restore ours in seconds.]
“Boring,” Cain said with a shrug, watching as Thor’s axe chipped a piece off his crystal body—only for it to instantly regenerate. “Can I finally smack this fighting rooster now?”
"Now that I’m sure the berserker is completely brainless and poses no real threat," John said, watching dull-witted Thor try—for the third time in a minute—to gut him, only to be met with a flurry of snow. "Hit him."
They weren’t fighting. They were playing.
Thor thrashed in the center of the circle like a trapped beast, while the Midnight Suns casually practiced. They’d long needed an immortal punching bag to sharpen their techniques. And Thor still bit and resisted, which only made him more valuable as a lab rat.
In three hours, Thor had been killed a hundred times. Each time more efficiently. Magic lightning revived him instantly, but each time it grew dimmer, and the regeneration took longer. That’s the core weakness of battery-powered artifacts.
"Guys, that’s enough," Jane said, standing in front of Thor’s sprawled, bloodied body. He’d been regenerating for five minutes already. "If we keep going, we’ll kill him."
"No argument here," Cain said, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Even in football, the ball doesn’t get kicked as much as we’ve smacked Thor."
"He’s like a rabid dog," Mary sighed, masking her pity with irony. "Barks, bites, and doesn’t even realize he’s already lost."
"Cain and Mary vote to stop," Jane looked at John. "What about you, darling?"
"We’ve run through almost every tactic against a mad opponent," John calculated mentally. "We can wrap it up. Besides, I’m too lazy to wait ten minutes between each regen cycle."
Thor’s magic axe barely sparked anymore—like a heart about to stop.
Thor finally recovered and lunged with a scream—but the fate of the rabid dog was already sealed.
"You’re under arrest," Jane said, and knocked him out with a hammer blow.
///
The dungeon beneath the hellish castle served as a prison. Its former owner, Belasco, had been a devil not just by title but by taste—he adored torture.
John walked across rotten flagstones, torch flickering, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Behind the bars—manacles caked with dried blood and clumps of grey hair. Every door like a snarling maw, eager for new victims.
At the end of the corridor was the torture chamber, sealed behind a massive door covered with a hundred protective runes. Precautionary measures—when pain begins, some prisoners find a second wind. No devil or god escapes these walls.
John touched the door. The royal seal activated—it opened.
Thor was chained to a heavy iron table, every joint locked in iron clamps. Nearby was a side table stocked with tongs, hooks, blades, and other tools of agony.
John turned a wooden wheel, setting the table upright.
Thor was conscious. Even bound in steel, hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes, Thor stared at John like he’d burst free the next moment and crush his skull. A prince remained a prince—even in Hell.
"I’ve been captured and tortured before," Thor said evenly. "I told the dark elves nothing, and I’ll tell you nothing either. Their tools were worse than yours."
"Forget this junk," John waved dismissively at the instruments with price tags. "They’re already in my catalog and will be sold at the first opportunity."
Thor showed no joy, no doubt. Just watched him with a stony face.
"But you’re right, big guy. I need information—and I will get it," John said, locking eyes with him. "You know what the Penance Stare is, don’t you? I can tell you do. This room strips away all magical shielding, so your will is completely exposed."
"Do what you must," the prince said with pride. "One more wicked deed for your conscience."
"What difference does it make?" John repeated the question from their first meeting. "You’re a god. I’m a devil. It’s simple."
The icy spiral coiled into his mind, and Thor shuddered. First his eyes filled with rage, then fear—then emptiness. Drooling, he spilled all of Asgard’s secrets.
///
John stepped into Richards' machine just in time for dinner. Cain had laid out a roast turkey stuffed with apples—steam rose all the way to the ceiling. It smelled like spices and victory.
The Midnight Suns began eating in silence.
Mary broke first.
"Come on, don’t just sit there!" she jabbed the air with her knife, slicing the silence. "What did Thor say?"
John grimaced. He hadn’t fully processed the information himself or shaped it into a solid plan—but staying silent was no longer an option. Mary looked ready to throw an apple at him, Cain was drumming on the table, and Jane gently took his hand.
"Alright," John sighed. "In Asgard, there’s a tree—Yggdrasil. Golden apples grow on its branches. They’re like super-soldier serum, but for the soul—enhancing every spiritual layer to the max. If each of us eats one golden apple, our souls will be strong enough to resist curses. Then we’ll be able to wield the artifacts—without burning up from the inside."
"So basically, another piece of magic nonsense," Cain smirked, picking turkey bits from his teeth with a toothpick. "When do we go chop the tree down?"
"I wanna see Asgard!" Mary lit up like she was already standing on the Rainbow Bridge. "No one’s done a selfie there yet!"
Excited by the coming adventure, Cain and Mary clapped their hands so loudly the cups on the table jumped.
"We’re not storming Asgard," John cut in sharply. "Every single citizen there has eaten a golden apple. Even the Asgardian hobo could make Strange sweat just by walking past him. There are fifty thousand people in total—forty-five thousand of them are trained warriors. No one in Asgard dies of old age; they all meet death in battle. And Odin’s vault of artifacts might even rival Belasco’s. If he wanted, he could arm the entire army with enchanted axes and shields. Storming Asgard would be like going up against forty-five thousand Thors."
The new information put a damper on the mood—but only briefly.
"Oh come on, man!" Cain slapped him on the back. "I don’t believe for a second that you’re giving up. You’ve got a plan already, don’t you?"
"Spill it, dad!" Mary clung to his shoulder.
"Darling," John turned to Jane. "Don’t you have anything to say?"
"I’m with them," Jane said calmly. "And with you. Giving up halfway isn’t who we are. And walking away from a prize—that’s not your style."
"You know me too well," John muttered. "Just a heads-up: this is only the skeleton of an idea. It might all fall apart."
"I’ll support you no matter what," Jane squeezed his hand.
"Alright. Let’s start with the basics. What is Asgard? It’s a celestial capital on the ninety-sixth level of Heaven. Odin took the throne, so he’s king and god there. The trick I used against Belasco won’t work on him. Challenging Odin is suicide," John said, steepling his fingers. "But we don’t need his throne. Just four golden apples. I propose we trade Thor for them."
"Don’t you think that’s a bit too bold?" Jane asked gently. "Odin’s an old warrior and a conqueror. He’s already claimed one circle of Hell—Hel. He might declare war on us too."
"I’ve considered that. But we’re a logistical nightmare for him—too far out. Gathering enough troops for a full assault would take him months—and I won’t give him that time. No small strike force could take us down. And Odin, like most gods, can’t leave his realm," John explained. "But you’re right, darling. Thor told me about his family—that his old man’s a real bastard. When the dark elves captured him, Odin disowned his 'weak' son."
"And you still plan to demand a ransom from that jerk?" Mary asked.
"Nope. Odin will just tell us to go to Hel. But there's Frigga," John smirked. "Odin’s wife also has access to the golden apples—and her heart isn’t made of stone. I’ll send her a ransom letter through a dark elf I know."
The turkey was finished as the plan was discussed. Naturally, John had thought through all the details and calculations, but he shared the general outline with the team.
"One more thing," Jane looked at John. "You’ve already extracted all the intel. Now you have to take Mary to Thor—so she can restore his will. Like we agreed."
[To keep the team together, I have to make compromises. But Jane approved of the torture—for my sake. That means more than I can say.]
"Of course, darling," John kissed her on the cheek.
///
The ransom letter had been sent two weeks ago.
The Midnight Suns were simply waiting for Frigga’s response. For security, no one was allowed to leave the hellish fortress—Asgardian agents could be lurking outside or on Earth.
Not that they were bored. Having fully attuned to their artifacts, they moved on to studying real magic. Belasco’s library—stocked with thousands of grimoires and scrolls—was an invaluable resource. Elvira and Daimon, being more experienced, offered guidance and advice.
To speed things up, the Midnight Suns turned their artifacts into clones. The process doubled their study pace. From one scroll, they learned a rare spell to create astral copies—splitting the soul into ten parts. Power diminished, but intellect expanded. Then they cheated the system: the artifact-clones created ten more astral copies. In short, they were learning twenty times faster. The Hellstrom twins were biting their knuckles with envy.
Not everything went smoothly. John and Jane, being the more responsible ones, studied magical theory with relentless focus. Cain and Mary… not so much. They couldn’t sit still for long, and just the sight of a book made them yawn.
Jane sent one of her clones to help them. It didn’t work—her presence didn’t capture the attention of two wild spirits. Then a clone of John arrived and turned the study into a game—that got results.
Cain and Mary wouldn’t become archmages, but they did grasp the basics.
[It benefits me to make sure the team doesn’t have any ignoramuses a second-rate sorcerer could manipulate.]
Jane interpreted his motivation differently. Between the library shelves, she rewarded John with a kiss—more passionate than usual.
Thor had recovered; no more drooling. He’d been transferred from the torture chamber to a proper cell. Kind-hearted Jane brought him books and visited him three times a day with hot soup. The Asgardian prince stubbornly refused to speak to her, but he didn’t turn down the food.
She knew he’d kill her if given the chance. Jane had seen him smash the head of one of her clones. But that didn’t erase his hunger—or her compassion.
During this time, one serious incident occurred. Four Asgardian warriors attempted a raid on the fortress. Or rather, they tried.
John sensed them the moment the portal to Hell opened. A billion goblins, acting under his mental command, swarmed the intruders. The warriors fought bravely—but numbers beat skill.
Interrogation revealed the uninvited guests were three of Thor’s friends—and his girlfriend, Sif. Asgardian commanders had warned them that a rescue mission was impossible. They ignored the warning, trusting in valor and fate.
They were wrong. Now they were all sitting in prison.
John stood by the railing, gazing into the crimson sky above Hell. The number of hostages had grown. Maybe it was time to ask for an artifact or a spell in exchange for their freedom?
At least Thor wasn’t bored anymore—his friends were in the adjacent cells, and they could chat.
The deadline for the exchange had passed yesterday, but there was still no word from Frigga. That was troubling. Maybe the dark elves had failed to deliver the letter? One option was to send a hostage along with a new message.
With that thought, John descended into the dungeon to pick the cheapest courier.
The doors were wide open. The cells were empty. On Thor’s bed lay a letter.
"Dear Jonathan,
You put on a magnificent play.
When I began my little prank with Mjölnir, I never imagined it would evolve into a full-blown drama with abduction and dungeon cells. Thanks to you, Heimdall got chewed out for the first time in a thousand years. Odin is throwing lightning. Frigga is drinking sedatives. Asgard has finally shaken off centuries of dust. Thank you, Johnny.
You placed your pieces perfectly and played the game well. Frigga sent me with the golden apples for the exchange—the victory was already in your pocket... but where’s the fun in that?
I liked the play, and I don't want it to end so soon. Forgive my weakness—I interfered.
P.S. The defenses of your fortress are good. I’m just better.
Love and kisses, your L."
“Freakin’ Loki!” John crushed the letter in his fist. “You want to play? Fine! But don’t expect a happy ending. This is war!”
He stormed into the game room like a hurricane. Mary nearly dropped her smartphone. Cain stopped watching boxing. Jane closed her book. They hadn’t seen their leader like this in a long time.
“Plans have changed,” John announced. “We’re going to storm Asgard!”
“Yes!” Cain clapped his fists together. “I’m sick of reading books! I wanna fight!”
“Darling, you said that was impossible,” Jane reminded him gently—the voice of reason.
“Then it’s time to do the impossible,” John smirked. “Again.”
“Finally!” Mary jumped in place. “A new adventure!”
“Do you have a plan?” Jane looked into his eyes.
“You know me, love. Just the seed of one so far—but once it grows, every angel in Heaven will go gray,” John winked. “One thing I can say for certain: to raise our chances—we need to grow stronger. It’s time to go back to Earth.”
