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Superior Ghost Rider. Chapter 34. It's boring as hell
🕑 Added 2025-04-19 13:50:01 +0000 UTCRichards' computer gave a cheerful beep — data from the new dimension collected. Time to leave, before Hell tried to eat them alive.
John and Jane stood frozen by the sealed containers: red dust, heavy air laced with sulfur, chunks of demonic flesh still pulsing beneath the glass.
"I feel like a fraud," she said, hugging her own elbow. "We’ll go home, and all of this will be lost. Everything made by Hell… should stay in Hell."
"Those are the rules," he shrugged, like they were talking about parking violations, not hellish contraband. "There are spells to temporarily preserve infernal objects on Earth, but I don’t know them."
[Actually I do. I am a demonologist, after all. But giving a mad scientist access to demonic specimens? Not the brightest idea.]
"We should at least leave an explanation," Jane picked up a tablet and began typing in a businesslike tone. "Dr. Richards, I regret to inform you..."
"Hurry it up," John snorted, heading for the cockpit. "We’re taking off in a minute."
Zarathos’ energy flashed through the cables, and the hell-plane roared to life. A second later, they tore free from the putrid field, leaving the festering wasteland far below.
"You may unfasten your seatbelts," John muttered into the radio. "Arrival at the hell capital in... a while."
Naturally, that captain’s announcement sent the whole crew rushing to the cockpit.
"Man, what do you mean ‘a while’?" Cain frowned. "We got more stops planned or what?"
"No. And if Richards’ computer beeps again, I’m ignoring it."
"Then what’s the holdup?" Mary tapped her heel impatiently on the floor. "Hell’s countryside sucks! I want the city!"
"You're the holdup!" John snapped. "You’ve got a baseline body with no enhancements! I have to keep us just above commercial airline speed so you don’t puke your guts out!"
Mary flinched like she’d been slapped — then immediately fired back.
"I didn’t know!" she raised her hands. "You could’ve told me instead of being a jerk!"
"Yeah, yeah — but at rocket speed, we’d be there in an hour tops. Now..." He waved vaguely.
"Guys, don’t fight," Jane stepped between them, palms up. "This isn’t the time for a gut-check contest. John, how long do we have?"
"No clue," Rider clicked his eyes over a magical compass. "This junk doesn’t show distance, just direction. With our luck? Minimum three days."
"Well, we’re screwed," Cain stared at the ceiling. "What’re we supposed to do in this tin can for three days?"
"Knew it would come to this," Jane smiled. "We’ve got three cabinets of movies — every genre covered."
"Shotgun on picking the first one!" Mary bounced on her toes.
"Then I’ll make the popcorn," Cain grinned. "Ten buckets should do. For me."
"Don’t start without me. I’m just switching to autopilot," John settled into his chair. "And stay close. We’ve got a demon incoming."
"Hostile?" Thunderheart’s hand dropped to her hammer.
"There are no friendly demons," Rider snorted. "Bastard sensed our auras and now he’s flying in — either to trick or overpower us, steal our bodies and escape Hell."
"Just like the movie with the same name," Mary made a face. "That one ended badly."
"Exactly," the demonologist nodded. "Rule one of Hell-travel: no talking to demons. Kill on sight."
"Can a demon even be killed?" Jane tilted her head. "Death is just another way out of Hell, isn’t it?"
"Smart girl. Not surprised you were a straight-A student," he winked. "A demon — like a soul — can only be truly destroyed by high-level disintegration magic. And that’s where our big friend comes in."
"Oh, hell yeah!" Energy of Cyttorak flared across his knuckles. "Open the hatch, I'm gonna play with him."
"No games," John frowned. "Any demon’s a master of magic. We can’t risk him throwing a curse or some other nasty trick. We hit him from a distance."
Ghost Rider flipped a switch — the roof cannon growled like a nightmare beast just torn from sleep, slowly rotating toward the target.
Juggernaut placed a finger on the trigger, charging the shot with raw destructive force.
"Not yet," John said, watching the target through the sin map. "Let him get a bit closer. Fire!"
Cain released the button. A crimson projectile the size of a house launched toward the demon. It dove straight down like falling into a chasm, dodging the blast — then shot up, locking onto their trail like a shark to blood.
"Slippery bastard!" John gritted his teeth. "Fire again!"
Cain slammed the button again, charging the cannon to full power. The demon dodged once more, effortlessly evading the huge, slow shot.
"He's above us!" Rider roared. "He’s teleporting! Bring him down before he ports inside!"
Cain went to press the button—
"Are you kidding me?" John shoved him off the console. "Every shot’s lethal! You don’t need to throw a tank to swat a fly!"
Juggernaut muttered something about small bullets being boring.
Ghost Rider hammered the controls — the cannon roared to life, unleashing a swarm of tiny projectiles, like a cloud of infernal mosquitoes, each loaded with Zarathos’ wrath.
The demon had to twist and dodge wildly, losing focus — unable to cast spells.
"I see him!" Mary shouted, pointing at the window.
No one got a good look at the demon’s face — but they’d all remember what happened when Zarathos’ bullet hit.
The demon screamed. His skin melted like red syrup — drop by drop — until a glowing skeleton was revealed, then sucked into a blinding vortex.
"Holy crap," John muttered.
"You know something?" Mary grabbed his sleeve. "Tell me!"
"A vortex like that… shows up when a sinner completes redemption," John exhaled. "His soul’s leaving… to be reborn."
A second later, a goofy grin spread across his face.
"Guys, I just broke Hell."
"I got no clue what you’re talking about," Cain scratched his cheek, "but that sounds awesome."
"We broke Hell?" Mary clapped her hands. "Did the Avengers ever do that? The X-Men? Nope! That’s all us!"
John stayed silent. His mind was buzzing like a hornet’s nest. He was already seeing the possibilities. One second — just one — to make a soul feel the full weight of its sins, and in doing so, punch a ticket to freedom.
[All of Hell is packed with top-tier mages. I could trade redemption for knowledge. My hands are shaking at the thought.]
"This place…" Jane whispered, touching her hammer. "Mjolnir weeps. Please, fly lower. Bathe the souls in Zarathos’ fire. Set them free from this nightmare."
[That’s a bad deal for me. Those cocoons might hold Sorcerer Supremes from across the galaxy — mages who’d trade all their secrets for salvation.]
"Alright," he sighed, the yoke trembling in his grip. "We’ll fly lower. Just… don’t tell anyone I’m getting sentimental."
"Thank you," Jane smiled. "This really means a lot to me."
[Now’s not the time to play the long game. I don’t have much time left — and I won’t lose Jane. Besides, most of the real mages already turned into demons. What’s left in the cocoons are useless thugs.]
"You gave in way too fast," Mary squinted. "That’s not like you."
"Why would I fight it?" he shrugged. "Zarathos feeds off sinner punishment."
[Gotta keep the style.]
"Now that’s the John I know — hell’s eternal salesman!" Mary laughed. "You never do anything for free."
"I can drop you off for free."
"Too late," she ducked behind Jane and stuck out her tongue. "Mom won’t let you!"
Amidst laughter and jokes, Ghost Rider adjusted the aircraft’s altitude to a hundred yards above the ground. He switched on autopilot to follow the compass heading and activated three auto-turrets. John’s fire scorched every sinful soul. Jane’s lightning blasted the goblins. Cain’s crimson shells shattered the earth below.
The air thrummed with magic. Three out of four artifacts were recharging on their own.
“Looks like the recharging problem’s solved for good,” John rose lazily from his seat, cracking his knuckles. “Zarathos is purring in my bones. One day in Hell — and I’ve got fuel for a month.”
“Mjolnir sings to me in thanks,” Jane smiled.
Cain snorted, glaring at the turrets hungrily sucking power straight from his boots.
“Boring as hell. They won’t even let me push the damn button... Gotta admit though — it’s handy.”
“I abstain from comment!” Mary crossed her arms under her chest. “Once we get my M’Kraan Crystal back, then we’ll be a full team.”
///
Four days passed in fire and boredom. Hell’s wildlife died in waves. Curious demons poked their heads out — only to be instantly incinerated by purifying flame.
[My banker’s heart bleeds. I should’ve charged them something.]
The team spent that time binge-watching shows like their hell-train had turned into a cozy Manhattan apartment — complete with AC, couches, and a Netflix subscription.
Close the windows to the infernal wasteland outside, and you could almost pretend they weren’t mages — just regular people.
The only real concern during this peaceful stretch were Phoenix’s occasional surges, trying to break free — but even those were easily suppressed with a proven method.
John felt conflicted about this sudden vacation. On one hand, he hadn’t let himself relax this long since his last life. Always running, tongue out, chasing scraps and dodging teeth. This break felt like a breath of fresh air.
On the other hand, sitting on a couch for four days staring at a screen felt like terrible waste. Like something was just… wrong.
[This journey is changing me. Changing all of us. What used to feel like joy… now feels like lost time.]
They chose to watch Scrubs — their favorite show. On a big screen. With unlimited snacks.
By season three, Mary was yawning openly, spinning around on the pillows and more focused on her blog than the screen.
Cain lasted a single season, then vanished to chase frying pans around the kitchen and shadowbox in the hallway. The show passed by like background noise.
John held strong through season one, but afterward, though his body stayed, his mind drifted — running strategies, calculating next moves.
Jane seemed lost in her own thoughts too. She laughed through the first two seasons. Then, she didn’t.
[We need a magic training room on this train. Something we could use on the move. Maybe I can push Strange into building an upgrade. Better yet, have Doom forge a technomagic miracle.]
Season seven was rolling.
Mary had gone to sleep.
Cain was in his room, gaming.
John barely registered the show anymore. The laugh track sounded muffled, like it was coming through a wall. And then — Jane. Right there. Closer than usual.
“Did you mean it back then?” she whispered. “That once our souls are healed… we all go our separate ways?”
“We’re almost there,” John said evenly, like reading off a script. “We get the Crystal, patch our souls, wring a few answers out of Thor. I’d like to say that’s the end of our suffering — but with our luck, there’ll be a few more adventures.”
"And then what?" Jane didn’t take her eyes off him, like she was searching his face for a final line that would explain everything. "You promised you’d lead us to immortality."
"That’s not hard," John shrugged. "Mages have a thousand spells to stop aging. I’m sure we’ll pick up some valuable artifact along the way — something we can trade to Strange for the right ritual. Five-minute quest."
"And that’s it?" Something strange flickered in her voice. "After that, we all go our separate ways?"
"Well… yeah." He looked away. "Wasn’t that the plan?"
"You’re absolutely right. We’ll fix the shared problems and split up," she said coldly. Jane stood from the couch and carefully smoothed her skirt. "I’ll go read in my room. You can finish the show without me."
She left without even glancing back. The only thing left in the room was the faint scent of forest rain — and a sharp taste of uncertainty.
[Gods… this team is driving me insane.]
Mary, in green pajamas covered in tiny phoenixes, bounced onto the couch like it was a trampoline. A pillow shot up into the air and landed on the floor with a defeated sigh.
"You know what I’m wondering?" she tilted her head. "Are you an idiot, or just pretending?"
"You know that I know you were eavesdropping. And you know that I know that you know—"
"Don’t dodge the question!" she raised the volume on the show. "Knowing a girl’s feelings and not saying anything back — only scumbags do that."
"Oh no… Don’t tell me you have a crush on me?" John threw his hands up dramatically. "Now I’ll be afraid to leave the house — what if your boyfriend beats me up?"
"Very funny." Mary rolled her eyes. "I’m talking about Jane, and you know it."
"What makes you think she likes me?" John struck a suspicious pose. "All we ever do is argue."
"That’s me you argue with. You and Jane have married-couple tension," the teen giggled. "But seriously. Jane doesn’t show affection easily, maybe she just doesn’t know how. But everyone knows honor students fall for the bad boys."
"By that logic, she should be into Cain too."
"God forbid!" Mary flailed her arms like she was swatting bees. "In a school AU, Cain is the drunk PE teacher… high as a kite… who OD’d on mushrooms… and gasoline."
"Right. And he still wins Teacher of the Year."
"Okay, but seriously," she caught her breath from laughing. "Haven’t you noticed the way Jane looks at you?"
[Of course I have. I’m not blind. When a woman looks at you like she’s deciding whether to kiss you or kill you — you notice. She even yells at me softer than at Cain. And today… no leggings under her skirt. Message received.]
"Nope, haven’t noticed," John lied. "And I suggest you drop it too."
"But why?! You two could be happy! Love is beautiful!"
"Where? In the middle of hell? Don’t be ridiculous," he snorted. "Besides, I don’t have time for romantic nonsense. We’re on a mission, in case you forgot."
[And there’s the risk — if I push that storyline in the wrong direction, Jane might leave the team. I can’t let that happen. She’s the anchor. Without her, we fall apart.]
"There’s always time for romance," Mary said, but not too confidently. "Okay, you’re right. Now’s not the best time. But later, you owe Jane a date."
"I’ll think about it."
"I’m holding you to that," she said, rolling off the couch in a somersault. "And if you dare forget, I’ll ask Cain to play Cupid. He’s got tons of experience in love."
A pillow whistled through the air — but Mary had already ducked, stuck out her tongue, and zipped down the hallway like a green lightning bolt. She left behind bright laughter, the scent of strawberries — and the strong sense that someone’s heart was about to get hit.
