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Ghost Rider. Chapter 39. Kiss of hope
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 13:35:14 +0000 UTC4200 words.
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Eighty days of sweat and flame were behind them. The Infernal Plain had witnessed how the Midnight Suns transformed from a scattered foursome into a finely tuned survival machine.
The remaining days were spent honing their skills.
John stood at the edge of the plateau like a chess master before a board. In his mind, he laid out an obstacle course: three rocky platforms, a ring of spikes, and a sky-piercing pillar.
His teammates lined up before him. Their tracksuits were scorched at the elbows and knees—practical, just like the training itself.
“We're simulating a likely combat scenario,” John said, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced. “Thor takes me hostage.”
“With all due respect, boss—what the hell?” Cain scoffed, loud and theatrical. “I’ve tangled with that golden Viking. In battle, it ain’t his brain that does the thinking—it’s his damn axe.”
“Berserker,” Jane nodded slowly, her body giving a small twitch. “In that state, Thor can't tell friend from foe. One time he flattened his own horse, mistaking it for a centaur—and didn’t even notice.”
“Are we sure he's really a prince of Asgard?” Mary twirled a lock of hair around her finger, thoughtful. “’Cause he sounds more like a butcher.”
“Prince by birth. Butcher by trade,” Cain spat.
The chatter in the line grew louder…
“Enough with the circus!” John barked. “This isn’t a tea party!”
Everyone shut up at once and even straightened a little.
[Tch. I really don’t want to be the grumpy general enforcing army discipline. We’ve got a family vibe going on in this team, and I like it that way—but if I don’t raise my voice when it counts, nothing will evolve. Luckily, they get that and don’t complain.]
“Correct—Thor is a berserker,” John said, eyeing the attentive faces before him. “I’ve got confirmed intel from my dark elf spy: Thor once fought frost giants for ten straight days without sleep or rest. When his sword broke, he kept fighting with the bones of his enemies.”
Jane exhaled through clenched teeth. Mary whispered, “Wow.” Cain gave a low whistle.
“But first, he has to become a berserker,” John raised a finger. “Before he turns into a mad butcher, he’s still a commander. My spy told me Thor’s led military campaigns. Didn’t show much in the way of strategy, but he knows the basics of warfare.”
Ghost Rider stopped and slowly scanned the team's faces.
“Thor will immediately spot me giving orders and try to eliminate me. Cut off the head, so to speak,” John said grimly. “In battle, even a second of hesitation can be fatal. To prevent that—we drill the scenario. Clear?”
“Yes,” Jane answered for everyone.
John nodded, satisfied.
“Here’s the setup. Thor has shattered our team, knocked me out, and carried me over there,” John pointed to the tall pillar at the end of the obstacle course. “To finish me off, he needs to channel the purest energy of the Rainbow Bridge—which can scorch the soul.”
He looked at Jane and Mary.
“You’ll have three minutes to save me,” John pulled a stopwatch from his pocket. “Miss that window, and we lose.”
“I’ll save you, Daddy!” Mary laughed. Wings of fire blossomed from her back.
“Wait a sec,” Cain scratched his cheek. “Why only they get to save you? What about me?”
“In this scenario, you’re already down,” John glanced at his massive fists. “Thor knows your wild temper. He’ll try to hurl you to the moon right away and finish you off later.”
He clapped Cain on the shoulder.
“You’re out of the rescue op—but not the scenario,” John pointed to the pillar again. “You’re playing Thor. Your job is to keep the girls away from me. Use brute force only—no Cyttorak spells.”
“What a life,” Cain sighed theatrically. “How am I supposed to showcase my acting chops if I’m always stuck playing the villain?”
The girls remained at the start of the obstacle course. The boys were teleported to the wide pillar.
From up high, John could see everything—perfect for assessing mistakes in real time.
He collapsed onto the hot stone like a warrior downed in battle. Towering above him like a colossal statue of terror stood Cain—making twisted faces, cracking his knuckles, and giggling maliciously. Overacting.
“Three, two, one,” Ghost Rider started the stopwatch. “Go!”
The girls burst forward, leaving trails of fire and lightning behind them.
A red-brick house appeared in their path.
Without slowing down, Thunderheart sent a surge of electricity into it—checked for living beings—and smashed through it on her way.
John smiled at the corner of his mouth. Excellent.
During the early days of training, Jane would always avoid damaging property during city combat scenarios. Noble… and foolish. Every maneuver like that cost precious seconds. Sometimes, enemies deliberately destroyed support structures, forcing Jane to retreat for the sake of her holy mission.
[I respect her unwavering principles, but that’s a real vulnerability.]
It took a lot of conversations—and a promise that every destroyed building would be restored by Mary or funded from the treasure vault—but it worked.
In the next red-brick house, the surge of electricity detected two goblins—civilians, per John’s setup.
Thunderheart hurled her faithful Mjolnir through the window—it morphed mid-flight into a copy of her and swiftly evacuated the civilians. Jane demolished the now-empty building.
From a ceiling hatch, hostile goblins suddenly rained down on the girls.
“This is a surprise superhero attack!” John shouted. “They saw you assaulting Thor and decided to intervene!”
All the “superheroes” swarmed Jane, pushing her back. Mary turned her head to look.
A delicate moment… only one right choice.
The Phoenix Princess surged forward, leaving her friend to the wolves.
John gave a slight nod. The right call.
It also took plenty of talks to drive this home—protecting your family is great, but you have to trust them. Everyone here has the power of a nuclear bomb—breaking off to help a teammate should only happen in extreme cases.
Jane swung her hammer, and the “superheroes” were blasted out of the training zone by a hurricane.
Mary picked up speed, soaring straight up on fiery wings toward the pillar.
“Didn’t forget about me, did ya?” Cain boomed.
Stones, boulders, and shockwaves from thunderous claps flew at Mary. She had to dance through the air to dodge the onslaught.
John checked the stopwatch—half a minute left.
The Phoenix Princess flared her wings and struck—not with heat, but with brilliant light.
Juggernaut squinted, just for a second, but that was enough.
She dove into a corkscrew, blazing like a living meteor, and slipped through the stone blockade, barely avoiding Cain’s massive fingers. One breath—and she grabbed John by the leg and shot back the other way.
Ghost Rider, hanging upside down, calmly stopped the stopwatch.
“Training complete,” he said matter-of-factly. “You passed.”
Jane gave a thumbs-up with a sly smile. Cain roared with joy, like he was cheering the final round of a wrestling match.
“I saved you, Daddy!” Mary laughed in midair. “Now you owe me a ticket to a rock concert!”
“Only if Mom says yes.”
“Well, you can ask her right now.”
Mary let go.
John plummeted. A few flips in the air—and he landed softly on his feet beside Jane.
“Hi,” John said with an innocent smile. “What do you think abou—”
“You forgot something, dear,” Jane mirrored his innocent smile, but there was judgment blazing in her eyes. “First, I can hear a mosquito squeaking in the next room. Second, I say no.”
Mary landed beside them and gave John a pitiful look. He spread his arms as if to say, I tried.
“At events like that, it’s not safe for a teenager,” Jane continued, crossing her arms. “They sell alcohol and drugs there.”
“As if any of that would work on me,” the schoolgirl rolled her eyes.
“There are other vices at rock concerts,” Jane said sternly, locking eyes with her. “I’m not letting you go alone. If you’re going, we’re all going together.”
“Boom! Rock and roll!” said Cain, who had of course been eavesdropping. “Count me in!”
“No backing out now,” Mary grabbed John by both hands. “That means you’re buying four tickets!”
John looked down at Mary and Cain, who were already discussing which T-shirt to wear to the concert.
[Oh god, dragging these maniacs to a rock concert? Surviving that night might be harder than fighting Thor.]
///
The Midnight Suns spent a few free hours in Richards’ luxury car—plush seats, soft lighting, and the scent of caramel popcorn made for a stark contrast to the gray stone and smoke of their hellish castle.
They watched the new Captain America movie in the built-in home theater—already the tenth one, not counting recruitment propaganda and ketchup commercials. In the era of superheroes and their action-packed lives, new stories appeared every day, and movie studios churned out blockbusters twice a month—each raking in a billion dollars.
On-screen, Captain America took down a Nazi cyborg with his signature shield throw.
John struggled to suppress a yawn. And people never got tired of watching the same adventures with slightly tweaked backgrounds. The superhero era had everyone obsessed—or maybe it was the magic phrase at the start of every film: “Based on true events.”
“That’s it. No more superhero movies,” Mary groaned, dropping her head onto the pillow. “Even the intro makes me yawn.”
“I stopped watching this crap ages ago,” Cain tossed the last popcorn into his mouth. “Better to fight superheroes yourself than watch it from the sidelines.”
“You mean fight supervillains?” Jane clarified.
“Nope,” Cain burst out laughing.
“I didn’t like the movie either,” John said in the tone of a cocktail party critic. “When you do this stuff yourself, you can spot the fakes. I mean, really—why would the supervillain spell out his plan in front of a crowd of minions? That’s not how it works.”
“Speaking from experience?” Mary giggled.
“I’m not a villain,” John tousled the fashionista’s hair, making her squeal like he’d broken her finger. “Well… maybe just a little.”
Mary shot him a scorching glare. She wouldn’t forgive this and would seek revenge.
John smiled at her childish dramatics.
“And what did you think of the movie, dear?” he turned to Jane.
“I didn’t like it either, but for a different reason,” her voice softened, as if she wasn’t talking to the team but to herself. “The whole film, Captain America runs around and shoots Nazis.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Cain asked. “Nazis are evil. Every kid knows that.”
Mary nodded enthusiastically.
“I know evil must be fought, but—” Jane gripped the edges of her skirt. It was clear she found it hard to criticize a hero of the past. “That’s what the military and special forces are for. From Captain America—the nation’s symbol of hope—I expected more than shooting at swastika targets.”
[That meeting with the Avengers clearly left a mark. She would never have dared criticize her idol before.]
“You wanted him to fight corruption, racism, injustice—all the big issues in the country?” John guessed. “Maybe Cap wants that too, but as long as he answers to corrupt generals, they’ll never let him tear down their feeding trough. I read his soul—he’s a genuinely good guy.”
Jane’s eyes widened. She slowly nodded, and a smile touched her lips. To her, knowing that good people still exist in the world really mattered.
“But you’re still cooler, Jane,” John winked. “You stop tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes. You make it rain in the desert. You save ships and airplanes. For regular people, that means a hell of a lot more than wiping out leftover Nazis.”
Jane’s breathing quickened, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. She wasn’t used to compliments—and it showed.
[It’s actually kind of cute.]
John’s speech had an effect on the rest of the team too.
“Sigh,” Cain groaned. “We really should’ve taken Cap’s shield and handed it over to Jane.”
“You had the chance to do that?!” Mary clung to his back like a koala. “Tell me!”
“Only if you beat me in Mortal Kombat!” Cain, now carrying live cargo, ran off toward the room with Playstation. “Dibs on Sub-Zero!”
“Your soul will be mine!” Mary cackled ominously, mimicking the game’s villain.
The team’s loudest members disappeared.
Only John and Jane remained on the couch.
“Each room here’s soundproof,” she leaned in. “We’re alone, and we could…”
“No,” he raised a finger. “Our first date should be legendary, not in a kitchen next to a microwave. Just wait a little longer.”
Jane sighed softly but nodded.
“I’ll go check on the twins,” John stood and headed for the door. “And you…”
“I’ll finish this great book,” she held up a tablet with a bookmarked page. “And keep an eye on the others.”
[For her understanding alone, I could fall in love with her.]
John left the van thinking that even these two completely empty hours spent watching a boring movie were essential for the team.
Their enhanced bodies didn’t get tired or need sleep. They could keep going endlessly. But as leader, John had to watch their morale. Without rest and meaningless conversations, they’d burn out fast.
He moved quickly through the corridors of the hell castle. Stickers with long codes caught his eye—they were slapped on everything: cabinet, chair, chandelier, painting. Anything not made from hell-bricks.
He reached the wide-open doors of the vault. Massive, Fort Knox-style—but even richer. Whole mountains of artifacts glowed with gold and gemstones, like a dragon had once lived here.
No organization whatsoever. Belasco had apparently dumped all his plunder in one place. Or maybe he had his own twisted system that was lost to time. Now everything had to be cataloged by hand.
After two months of work, the vault had been noticeably thinned out. All identified artifacts had been moved to a proper warehouse with labeled shelves.
Near the last pile of treasure, red goblins scurried around—not too bright, but capable of following simple commands like “bring this there” or “carry that”—as long as the order came from their king or his trusted few.
The Hellstrom twins were in charge. Daimon, looking like a long-suffering martyr, was identifying artifacts using divination magic, then passing the results to Elvira, who sat at a massive desk, calmly recording everything into a spell-bound ledger. Identified artifacts got a magical sticker, were handed off to the goblins, and moved to the right section of the warehouse. Unidentified ones were sent to the black zone for further study.
“How’s it going, accountants?” John called out.
The Hellstrom twins looked up at him in sync. Visually, they were similar—both blondes with a love for red suits—but their personalities were completely different.
Daimon? A total slacker.
Elvira? A complete bitch.
“Duuuuude,” Daimon drawled, staring at John. “I’m so burned out. Let’s bail.”
“You’ll bail when I say so,” Elvira muttered without looking up. “And when I want you gone, you’ll feel my boot on your ass.”
John pretended to be a tree. Those two were like fire and oil. No need to add anything—just sit back and watch the explosion.
“Although…” Elvira slowly raised her head, peering at her brother over her glasses. “You want to visit Miss Frost?”
“Oh, hell yes!”
John facepalmed. You really shouldn’t make it that obvious you want to crawl under Emma’s skirt.
Elvira either didn’t notice her brother’s lustful gaze—or pretended not to.
“I actually need to deliver a package to our business partner,” Elvira ran her finger along the pages of the magical ledger. “Yes, section three. A set of dragon pearl tableware. It’ll add some prestige to the Club.”
“I’m already on my way!” Daimon grinned and turned toward the warehouse. “I’ll hand it over personally—right into Miss Frost’s delicate hands!”
“Since you’re heading to the warehouse, you can also decontaminate all the dishes from magical microbes,” she added behind him. “All thirteen thousand cups.”
Daimon groaned so loudly that it startled a nearby hell goblin.
[Heh. New trolling tactic for Daimon. Gotta remember that one.]
“Hey, Ellie,” John sat down across from her at the desk. “How’s it going?”
“Hey, Johnny,” she took off her glasses and gave him a faint smile. “I’ve logged about ninety percent of the property from the 397th circle of Hell. The goblins dragged in everything from rusty frying pans to cursed portraits.”
“I saw stickers even on plain spoons. You really go all in with your work?”
“Don’t know how to do it any other way,” she brushed her bangs out of her face. “I’m gradually moving the essentials into the Clubs and sending out invites to mages. I think I’ll finish everything in a week, and two weeks after that, we can officially open.”
John smirked. Everything was running like clockwork. The Emma-and-Ellie duo was something else. Two powerful women who knew what they wanted—and got results. And the brainless goblins covered all the physical labor.
Daimon would have his moment later, when he started negotiating with other devils to expand their trade routes.
[And the best part is, thanks to the employment contract, the Hellstrom twins can’t betray me. I’ll feel it instantly if they try to trick me or steal anything.]
“I never doubted you,” John grinned. “Actually, I came to ask you for a favor.”
Elvira leaned in.
“I’m taking Jane on a date, and I need you to keep an eye on Cain and Mary. Can you handle that?”
“No problem. But you’ll owe me,” the half-demon grinned predatorily. “I want a date with a charming blonde too. Put in a word for me with Emma?”
“Not happening,” John cut her off.
“Emma’s really not into girls?” There was a flicker of disappointment in her voice. “I thought she was a free spirit—someone who lives outside the box.”
“Emma’s a hundred percent into guys,” John lied.
[Easier to lie than explain Emma will never let anyone near her heart if they’re just as manipulative as she is.]
“So, will you keep an eye on my two?” John asked. “Cain may be an adult, but screwing around is in his blood.”
“Sounds like my brother,” she sighed. “I’ll watch them, but you still owe me a date with a blonde. Your Jane’s like a cream cake—I could just eat her up.”
“Guess we have the same taste,” John kissed her cheek and headed for the exit. “See you around.”
///
Jane stepped out of the van. In a red skirt, black cardigan, and with her hair loose, she looked stunning. She tossed a black backpack over her shoulder—inside were her hammer and helmet.
John had changed out of his black suit and mask into a shirt and trousers for the date.
“This way, milady,” John offered his hand like a gentleman.
Two conspiratorial faces peeked out of the van window—Mary and Cain gave them synchronized thumbs-up, like fans cheering on their favorite couple. Elvira promptly closed the curtains in their faces.
John opened a portal, and a second later, they were standing on the roof of an old watchtower. The wooden planks creaked with every step. All around them spread a forest—a green ocean bathed in moonlight.
“Where are we?” Jane stepped to the edge, gazing down at the trees.
“A nature reserve in Canada,” John inhaled the scent of the forest. “This watchtower’s been abandoned for ages, and I figured it’s the perfect spot for our date.”
“Why?” she studied his face. “I thought you’d take me to a five-star restaurant.”
“No restaurant can compete with this view. Just look at those stars.” He tilted his head back. Without factory smog, the constellations glowed as bright as the sun. “And besides, we’re completely alone here. No one staring at us like we’re movie stars.”
He glanced at her. Jane had relaxed a little—she clearly didn’t enjoy being the center of attention.
[And I know that.]
“As for service, I’ve got that covered too. Welcome to the Starry Restaurant.”
John walked over to a nearby crate, pulled out a blanket, and spread it across the rooftop.
“A perfect dinner table,” he winked.
Then he took out a small player, pressed a button—and a gravelly voice filled the night.
“Tonight’s music is by Louis Armstrong.”
Jane smoothed her skirt and sat down on the blanket.
“Waiter, the menu, please. But fair warning—I’m a picky customer,” she said in the voice of a vintage film star.
[If a girl’s willing to play along, you’re doing something right.]
“This is an open-air restaurant. Soup’s off the table. Just appetizers. Let’s see what the chef has to offer.”
John opened the crate and revealed a colorful spread of mini dishes: grain rolls, sauces in glass jars, pickled vegetables, seafood, thinly sliced fruits, cheeses, and cured meats.
Jane watched in open amazement.
“I know you like apple pie, but you eat that every day. I wanted to impress you,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t really know what else you like or don’t like, so… build your own perfect sandwich.”
“So your solution was to bring half the deli?” she asked, staring in disbelief at the trays of pickles, shrimp, and plums.
“Maybe,” John shrugged, looking off to the side. “I just didn’t want to screw this up.”
“That’s insanely sweet,” her smile lit up like a candle in an old house—warm, familiar, just what he needed.
John felt a warmth bloom inside him.
[Jane’s one of those rare girls who doesn’t value a guy for the diamond ring, but for the effort he puts in.]
“This is delicious!” Jane took a bite of her seafood sandwich—tuna, shrimp, octopus, squid, and seaweed on fresh bread. “Where did you get all this?”
“I raided the local Subway. The chef’s still in shock.” John topped some ham with slices of cheese.
“You robbed it?!” Her eyes flared like a righteous judge’s—but her lips were already twitching with laughter. “A date with a thief—my mom would never forgive me.”
“I’m glad you can appreciate a joke,” he smiled. “I bought out the entire counter. Had to run through a bunch of shops to gather the exotic stuff. I mean, who knows, maybe you like snake meat.”
“There’s snake meat in here?” Her eyebrows shot up.
“Sure. Bottom of the crate, right next to the truffles.”
Jane gave him a long, appraising look, trying to figure out if he was joking or not.
John watched her eat—slowly, with delight, as if she wasn’t tasting a sandwich, but life itself. It was mesmerizing.
“What are your plans for the future?” Jane made herself a new sandwich with cheese and tomatoes.
“You know them,” John shrugged. “Ask Thor how to save our souls. And if he doesn’t know, find someone who does and ask them.”
“And then what? A few days from now we’ll attack Thor, maybe he’ll have a healing elixir in his pocket. Mission accomplished. We’re no longer dying. You’ve fulfilled all your obligations. What will you do after that?”
Jane stopped chewing, tense, waiting for the answer. This mattered to her.
“My plans for the future are… vague,” John admitted. “Look, with these bodies, we’ll never die. If we heal our souls, we can forget about death forever. I don’t know what to do with centuries ahead of me. Maybe I’ll build a kingdom. Maybe I’ll join a monastery. Or maybe—I’ll just spend ten years watching TV shows and drinking tea.”
“I see,” she said dryly. “So all the family games… were just a tool. A temporary tactic to keep the team together. Once we’re cured, you won’t need Cain’s jokes, Mary’s smile, or me…”
“I never said that. I do need you. All of you. Especially you.”
He placed his hand over hers. She didn’t pull away.
“Why?” Jane looked him in the eyes.
[Her eyes catch every word. She’s not just listening—she’s deciding if she can trust me.]
“I really like you,” John said, not breaking eye contact. “Not just how you look. Your strength. Your mind. Your will. Only with you do I feel truly at home. If I had to share eternity with someone, Jane—it would be you.”
“You ignored me,” she withdrew her hand. “For months you acted like my hints didn’t exist. What changed? Why make a move now? Do you need something from me again?”
John looked away and said very quietly,
“I was scared.”
“What?” Jane flinched, like she’d been shocked. In her eyes flickered anxiety, anger—and a faint, desperate hope. “Scared of what? Me?”
“Of messing it all up. Like I always do,” he confessed. “All I’ve ever had were one-night stands. I don’t know how not to lose someone. And that scared me. So I figured it was better to stay friends than to lose everything.”
Jane was breathing fast now, her cheeks flushed.
“That’s… really unexpected,” she whispered. “So why did you ask me out tonight?”
“Because I realized that in this world, full of chaos and pain—you’re my home.”
John leaned in and touched her lips. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, but a kiss of hope. Light, like a prayer. He wasn’t reaching for her body—he was reaching for her trust.
She broke the kiss gently.
“I’m not against a relationship. I like you too, John. But,” Jane raised her hand slightly, “let’s not rush. I don’t want to be just another notch on your belt.”
“Of course,” John nodded slowly. “You mean much more to me, Jane. And I’m ready to prove it. However long it takes.”
[Just like Emma warned me: with girls like her, the road to love is longer—but the reward is greater.]
They spent the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket, watching the stars and listening to the crickets sing.
