Ghost Rider #109

January Year 4

By Manuel Chavarria

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"Now listen, the thing is, those noises you hear at night? That's the moon talkin' to ya. Y'hear what I'm sayin'? The MOON is TALKING."

I stare at the man for a second before replying. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You may think I'm insane but what I say is the god-honest truth itself, y'see? You go out at night sometime and you listen and you'll hear it. Just like I do."

I'm never riding a bus again.

"Pretty good conversationalist, actually..."

And I thought my druggie friends were fucked up.

Heh. "Druggie friends." Says the nicotine addict. I light a cigarette and take a long drag. Down to my last pack. Never good.

I look over at a newspaper the guy across the aisle is reading. Headline, nice, big letters: THREE MORE DEAD IN MYSTERIOUS BURNINGS.

I roll my eyes and snort. Metahumans. Whatever you wanna call 'em. They're responsible. So sick of hearing about them.

The guy with the paper looks up, noticing my disgust I guess.

"Not big on the super-folk?" he asks.

I spit. "Who needs 'em? I'm sick to bloody death of hearing about Spider-Man and the Hulk and..."

"GHOST WRITER!"

"Yeah, and Ghost Rider," I reply to the unexpected shout.

"No, no, this book. It's supposed to be by this model. But you just know she had a ghost writer. I mean, what's the point of that? Why put out a book if you need a ghost writer? Illiterate tramp..."

Whatever. I turn back to my window. This is on damn long stretch of road. I don't think I've seen anything else for the past couple of hours. Not even sure where I'm headed.

No, wait, nevermind. I do know where I'm headed.

I'm headed toward Clarice.

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Mr. Nacht looked at the paper every which way, but he still wasn't sure what the word printed on it was supposed to mean.

Noticing Nacht's quizzical look, Judas Traveller smiled.

"It's a name."

"A name?" Nacht asked.

"Speak the demon's name and control the demon. He who summons the magic controls the magic. It's all very elementary," Traveller said.

"Provided you can pronounce it," Nacht observed.

"Oh, you can't," Traveller replied. "If you were to try, your tongue would strangle you."

"How pleasant."

Nacht looked up at the ceiling of the library. There, sitting in his chair, was Traveller.

"It's rather comforting up here, Mr. Nacht. You should try it some time."

"Why did you take me off the assignment?" Nacht asked.

"The demon is nomadic, Mr. Nacht, and sending you across the world to track it would be rather...inconvenient."

"You know a lot about this demon, it seems."

"I've studied for centuries, Mr. Nacht. Look around you. The books that line the walls of this library are but a fraction of the sources at my disposal. I am many things, Mr. Nacht, a scholar among them."

"So how will the project continue?" Mr. Nacht asked.

"I'll be taking a more hands-on approach," Traveller responded.

"Won't that be time-consuming?"

"I have lived for centuries..." Traveller said as he began to glow, his corporeal form dispersing into the air.

"...and I shall live for centuries more."

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"It's here, Demon, the time is nigh, time, 'Ghost Rider', time to die!"

The creature leapt at the leather-clad Spirit of Vengeance, and clawed at its eyes.

"I've no idea what manner of beast you are," the Ghost Rider said grimly, "but you have much bravado attacking me where I dwell!"

The Ghost Rider threw the imp against the wall of his dwelling, a dank, dungeon-like area deep in the Nothing.

"Look into yourself and see," the imp said, snickering, "that, deep inside, you do know me!"

"You speak in riddles, creature," the Ghost Rider said. It had to know, however. The Ghost Rider turned its Penance Stare inward, searching for some sign of clarity.

The Ghost Rider's skull glowed a bright red. It stared hard at the imp.

"You..." it whispered, its voice filled with rage.

"Hee Hee, It's me!"

The Ghost Rider lashed out immediately, swinging its Hellfire Chain at the imp. When it connected, the imp exploded into thousands of tiny worms, each of which wriggled away, giggling.

The Ghost Rider jumped onto its motorcycle and rode away, through the darkness and back to the Earth Realm.

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Clarice glanced down at the table upon which her head rested. Then she looked across the room at her body, pinned to the wall. She was more than a bit disturbed that she was becoming accustomed to the situation.

She still heard the murmuring in the distance. And she still cried out for the only person she could think of that might care.

He reappeared in the room. It was the bizarre man with the speech impediment who had abducted her originally. He grinned a hideous grin and brushed her hair back with his hand. Then he planted a sloppy kiss on her lips.

The man walked over to her prone, naked body pinned to the wall and fondled it for a bit. Then he looked at Clarice's head and said, ".ecnad eht yojnE" before disappearing again.

Clarice watched as her body stepped from its position on the wall and walked to the center of the room. She watched as it raised its arms into the air and began to dance.

Clarice furrowed her brow. And then Clarice screamed.

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The Moon Man and I stare intently at the bus, laying on its side on the edge of the road.

Apparently, while the two of us were unconscious, the bus had blown a tire, the engine had set on fire and the bus collapsed. Somehow, the two of us ended up fifty yards away, relatively unscathed. Everyone else was killed.

There is a few minutes of silence.

"...welp," the Moon Man says. "What now?"

I stand silent and still for another moment.

"You do what you like. I've gotta keep moving. I'm gonna keep going down this road."

The Moon Man scratches his head. His head covered in that mashed, grey hair. He wears a white, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of beat-up khaki's. Looks like a bum. And he carries a handgun. How reassuring. He's exactly the type of person who should have one...

Of course, I'm no better. I haven't taken off this trench coat in days.

"Y'see," the Moon Man says, "I've got nowhere to go and no one to go there with. Y'hear me? NOWHERE and NO ONE."

I see where this is going...

"So if y'don't mind, I think I'm gonna tag along with you f'r awhile."

I Push my hair back, and reluctantly accept. Could use the company anyway.

"You and the moon," he said, looking to the sky.

I ignore that last part. "We should check the bus. See if there's anything worth salvaging."

Wee check the other passengers' pockets, gathering all the cash we can in case we need it. We take what little food we can find.

"Let's check the engine," the Moon Man suggests.

Just as I'm about to ask "why", he opens the engine compartment. Thousands of worms spill out.

And they're giggling.

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Next issue: More questions, not so many answers. I'm sure you've come to expect that. See ya then, ladies and gents!

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Author's note:

I suppose it was a bit negligent of me, but I failed to mention that the lingering "Jean DeWolffe" subplot was finished off over in Gary Dreslinski's Defenders title. Anyone interested should check it out in the "Children of Tomorrow" arc, issues 194-200.

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