Vetrax
patreon
Superior Ghost Rider. Chapter 31. Cain
🕑 Added 2025-04-16 14:14:04 +0000 UTCA police helicopter hovered in the sky like a hawk over its prey.
“Stop the vehicle and cut the engine,” a voice boomed from the speaker. “This is your final warning.”
The Helltrain surged forward, leaving a flaming scar across the asphalt. John gripped the wheel like a python around its meal—no intention of letting go. The entire state police force was on their tail.
“Real-life GTA!” Cain laughed from the passenger seat. “One more star and Batman’s coming for us!”
The cops in the chopper opened fire with sniper rifles. Direct hits to the tires—bullseye. But the lead bullets bounced off the magically reinforced wheels with a wet thud, helpless as peas against a wall.
Cain laughed even harder at their futility.
“This is not funny!” Jane stood beside him with her arms crossed. “I left you alone for five minutes! How did you mess everything up this fast?!”
“Trust me, I’m not thrilled either,” John growled, eyes fixed on the road. “I had a plan. A simple, quiet plan. No explosions, no bullets. Thanks for killing it. Again.”
He glanced at the rearview cameras. SWAT buses and police bikes were hopelessly falling behind the rocket-powered train. The snipers on the helicopters fired a few more rounds at the windows, then gave up. They were just tailing now, half-heartedly.
“Don’t be such downers!” Mary shouted from the back in a new dress. “How often does the police chase us? Danger, adrenaline, adventure! Live in the moment!”
“Kid gets it,” Cain smirked and high-fived her.
“Because of your ‘adventure’, we had to throw all your shopping bags into the car in a rush,” John grumbled. “The central room’s a mess—dirt and grass everywhere.”
“I’ll clean up later,” teen waved him off. “Live in the now! Do we have a camera here? I wanna record the chase and upload it!”
“Aunt Anna still thinks you’re a secret agent,” Jane reminded her, shaking her head. “You’re not supposed to show up online, remember?”
“Well, I’m not hiding forever,” girl rolled her eyes. “I need to shine. I’m making an account for our team, right now!”
Her fingers danced across the screen so fast it looked like fast-forwarded footage.
“Look!” Cain pointed out the window, grinning like a kid. “They’re setting up a blockade!”
Two police buses blocked the road ahead.
“They’re empty,” said Rider after scanning for souls. “Cops are hiding behind the trees.”
[We could slice through them like a hot knife through butter, but I’ve got a more interesting idea]
“Mister Marko,” John opened a panel with a big red button. “Care to fire the cannon?”
“Hell yeah!”
“John, you’re not serious?” Thunderheart arched a brow.
“Dead serious, darling,” Rider smirked. “We need to test the weapon.”
“I have to film this!” Lady Phoenix activated her phone camera.
Juggernaut slammed the red button. A nearby gauge lit up, showing how much Cytorrak energy could be funneled into the shot.
No one was surprised when Kain cranked it to maximum.
From the front of the train, a crimson energy shell the size of a house blasted out like a tank round. Impact. No explosion, no sound. The buses and a chunk of road vanished—disintegrated like they’d been split into atoms.
The Helltrain rolled on smoothly. The cops behind the trees were so stunned they forgot to shoot.
“That’s terrifying,” said Jane.
“That’s power,” said John.
“That’s boring,” said Kain.
“That’s awesome,” said Mary.
The police radio on the dashboard crackled to life.
“Copy, suspects have superpowers, I repeat, suspects have superpowers,” an unknown officer said. “Local forces lack the resources. Requesting Avengers support.”
“Well, that’s the end,” John switched off the receiver and looked at the screen as the helicopter gave up the chase. “Avengers aren’t coming for us. We can relax now.”
“Aw, come on,” Cain sighed. “I was hoping they’d send in military tanks.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Jane gave him a stern look. “We’re lucky those buses were empty.”
“You’d have just evacuated the fools,” driver shrugged. “Or blown the buses away with a gust of wind. It wasn’t an unsolvable problem.”
“Exactly,” Juggernaut nodded solemnly. “Listen to our boss. He’s got brains.”
Thunderheart let out a loud sigh, radiating disapproval.
“Video’s ready to upload,” Mary’s face glowed with screen-light. “But I don’t wanna post it anonymously anymore. They’ll just say it’s fake again, like with the Baxter Building. We need an official account…”
Her fingers rustled across the screen.
“Guys,” Mary paused over the input field. “What’s our team name?”
Jane and Cain shrugged.
“Seriously?!” teen cried. “How can we be a team without a name?!”
“Quit whining,” John frowned. “We don’t need a name.”
“What do you mean we don’t?!” Mary squawked even louder. “Even villain teams have names! Sinister Six, Brotherhood of Mutants, Masters of Evil. We can’t be the only losers without one!”
“Why can’t you get it through your head?!” Rider snapped. “We’re a temporary team! We fix our souls, then go our separate ways!”
A heavy, sticky silence filled the cabin. Even Cain didn’t joke. The topic of the end—no one wanted to talk about it.
Mary slowly nodded, but there was pain in her eyes.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we are just temporary allies,” she closed the account creation tab. “But I’m still coming up with a name. Being part of a superhuman crew? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance—and I’m gonna make the most of it.”
[That girl’s cheerfulness deserves respect. No wonder she qualified for the Phoenix.]
///
The first rays of sun slid across the scorching armor of the Helltrain.
The night had passed in peace. The cops stopped chasing. Avengers, predictably, didn’t show. They dumped the magical problem on Sorcerer Supreme—who, as always, was far too busy.
The alarm went off, Mary yawned, stretched, and—still in her panda pajamas—shuffled off to the shower.
She was the only one on the team who still needed to waste time on pointless sleep.
[Once I return her the M’Kraan Crystal, we’ll need to remodel this place and ditch the useless beds.]
The rest had worked all night:
John sat behind the wheel, simultaneously studying every feature of the vehicle and mapping out strategies.
Cain was sharpening his long-forgotten cooking skills, tinkering with kitchen gadgets and filling the train with the smell of fresh pastries.
Jane, with the help of an army of robot vacuums, cleared the clutter, hung curtains, and even arranged flowers in vases—cozy, just as requested.
“Breakfast is ready!” Cain hollered through the train. “Get your butts in here!”
[Yeah, why use the radio when you’ve got lungs the size of a truck?]
Ghost Rider switched to autopilot and left the driver’s seat.
Everyone had already gathered in the kitchen, admiring the new look. The iron table now had a checkered tablecloth, the chairs were cushioned, and a ceiling fan spun lazily above, stirring the air pleasantly.
“I worked on it all night,” Jane said, holding her elbow and rocking side to side. “Well? What do you think?”
“Feels like I never left home,” Mary wrinkled her nose. “Total grandma vibe. Like Aunt Anna’s place—and she’s sixty!”
Cain snorted, but said nothing. Maybe he also knew someone with taste like that.
“I like it,” John said, taking a seat.
“Really?” Mary and Jane said at the same time—
Mary with disgust.
Jane with surprise.
“Yeah,” Rider looked around at the green wallpaper. “I like the countryside style.”
[Makes me think of Kim. Wonder how she’s doing.]
“What about you, Cain?” teen turned to him, hoping for backup.
“Looks fine,” Juggernaut took off his apron. “Better than it used to be.”
"All right, fine," Lady Phoenix relented. "But next time, I’m in charge of the design. I’ve stocked up on enough materials to do a makeover every single week if I want to."
Mary and Jane nodded in agreement.
“What’s the world coming to?” Cain sighed theatrically. “Two designers on the team, and only one cook. Absolute madness.” He headed back to the kitchen. “We’re doomed.”
A minute later, he returned with a tray holding a still-warm apple pie and four glasses of milk.
“I spent two hours making this,” Cain folded his arms and gave them all a stern look. “I dare you to say you don’t like it.”
“You won’t hear that from me,” Jane took a bite and closed her eyes in delight. “It’s amazing! Better than any store-bought one!”
“Store pies don’t count,” Cain snorted, trying to hide a pleased grin. “Those are made by machines. This here—crafted by hand.”
“Aunt Anna always used apple jam in her pies, but you shredded fresh apples,” Mary examined the filling. “I’ve never had one like this. Kinda cool!”
“And what does Mister Moody think?” Cain asked.
All eyes turned to John, who had frozen mid-bite, fork hovering.
“It’s good,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes off the pie.
Two kicks landed under the table—one soft nudge from a sneaker (clearly Jane), and the other a sharp heel jab (definitely Mary).
[Message received.]
“Actually,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m really glad we’ve got home-cooked food now. And this one’s restaurant-quality. Honestly, it’s a bigger stroke of luck than four Infinity avatars ending up on one planet—one of them being a talented chef. Let’s hear it for the cook!”
John, Jane, and Mary clapped enthusiastically.
“Oh, quit it,” Cain waved them off, flustered. “It’s just a pie, not rocket science. Now, when I make lemon-soaked mussels next time—then you’ll see some real applause.”
The mood around the table softened. Somewhere between pie and milk, it actually felt like a real family. Jane gave John a subtle nod, and Mary winked at him playfully. Even though the team ran on equality, the leader’s word always carried a bit more weight.
“Okay, everyone smile!” Mary spun around in her chair and snapped a selfie, catching the whole table in frame.
“And where exactly do you plan to post that?” Jane sighed. “You know you’re not supposed to show up in pics with us.”
“It’s for me,” Lady Phoenix smiled. “I want to remember us like this. No powers, no adventures. Just people around a kitchen table.”
No one laughed. No one argued.
Considering how dangerous their lives were, moments like this really mattered.
///
“Arrival point in twenty miles,” the navigator reported in a cold, mechanical voice.
John eased off the Helltrain’s throttle, giving himself time to take in the surroundings.
“Guys,” he said into the radio, “we’re approaching the X-School. I need everyone in the cockpit.”
[Cain’s got old beef with his stepbrother, Charles Xavier. I need to remind him to keep it cool. Gonna need the rest of the team’s support too.]
Outside, tall pine trees flickered past the windows, morning light filtering through their branches. Birds sang, squirrels darted through the canopy—like the whole forest was alive and breathing.
“What’s goin’ on?” Cain grunted as he lumbered into the cockpit.
"Just a reminder—don’t lose your cool," John looked Cain in the eyes. "If you go berserk again, Avengers will show up. And they'll go with the same tactic that worked last time—calling in Thor. We don’t need that right now. What we do need is a lead from X-Men on where the thief with the M’Kraan Crystal is."
"I know what’s at stake," Cain frowned. "I won’t hurt my little bro."
Then, half under his breath, he added:
"Maybe just a brotherly smack on the ass."
"I won’t let you beat up a disabled man!" Jane flared. "Especially a good person!"
"Charlie? Good?" Juggernaut grimaced. "That bald snake?"
"Why?" Mary asked innocently. "What did your stepbrother ever do to you?"
John and Jane had asked the same question before, but it only ever made Cain angry. Maybe it was Mary’s charm, or maybe breakfast had left him in a good mood, because this time he answered:
"My dad married his mom. Living under one roof with Charlie was hell. We fought all the time. And because I was bigger, I always won. Maybe that wasn’t fair..." Cain stared out the window, thoughtful. "If he’d ever come at me with a bat or something, I’d have gotten it. Might’ve even forgiven him. Maybe respected him. But that rat took a different route."
He fell silent. For the first time, the ever-joking Juggernaut looked genuinely sad.
"Charlie awakened his mutation," Cain went on. "Freakin’ telepathy. He blabbed my secrets to the whole damn school. It was personal stuff. And he—he made it public. I had to transfer."
Mary gently rubbed his back.
"I get your pain," she said softly. "If I were you, I’d probably hate him too."
"You were both kids," Jane said diplomatically. "You’ve grown up. He’s grown up. I’m sure your brother regrets what happened."
"Hell no!" Juggernaut clenched his jaw. "He’s still the same mind-reading rat!"
"You’re wrong," Thunderheart said firmly. "I’ve read his interviews. Charles Xavier respects privacy and personal freedom. He doesn’t read minds without permission."
John laughed suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.
"Did I say something funny?" Jane asked, confused.
"I just find it hilarious that someone actually believes that crap!" Ghost Rider laughed louder. "A telepath not using telepathy? That’s like humans choosing not to use their legs! Utter nonsense!"
"Finally, someone gets it," Cain grumbled.
"And he lies in those interviews because he has to," John added. "If a telepath admitted he reads minds freely, no one would sit in the same room with him."
"You only see the bad in people," said the embodiment of hope. "I believe that a man who fights for peaceful coexistence between humans and mutants can’t be evil."
For a moment, silence fell over the cockpit. Only the brakes squealed and wires crackled in the walls. The corner of Cain’s mouth twitched—either a smirk or a stress tic.
"Jane, I love the way you think," Mary smiled. "I’m with you!"
The two good girls clapped hands cheerfully.
Meanwhile, tension was rising fast on the guys' side of the room.
