Post by Rift on Apr 9, 2022 23:12:45 GMT -7
Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest...
Everybody is scared of something.
Fear is, has, and likely will continue to be the driving force behind mankind's greatest achievements. Fear of deadly animals led people to live in caves. Fear of other men led to the development of weapons, walled cities, and the creation of civilization. The fear that resources on the planet will not be sustainable push humans further into the cosmos, to explore the vastness of the universe. Even farther back though, near the beginning, long before the other benefits became apparent, it was fear of the dark that led to early man harnessing fire to push the shadows away. In the modern era nightlights, motion sensors, and even night vision help combat this primal fear that almost everyone experiences at some point in their life.
Johnny Blaze was no different, but his was not a fear of the literal dark. He had been host to the Spirit of Vengeance, had been the Ghost Rider long enough to know that it wasn't the dark that needed to be feared, but what lurked in it. Over time even that fear had subsided. A guy didn't clash with demons on a regular basis, didn't end up spending time in Hell itself, and thwarting the schemes of supernatural forces from both this plane of existence and beyond and still get scared. No, monsters, demons, and other assorted evils didn't keep him up at night shaking like a kid afraid of what was inside his closet or under the bed. For Johnny the fear that now gripped him was one perhaps older than fear of the dark, but linked to it: fear of the unknown.
In this case it was not knowing how he had ended up wherever it was he now found himself. It was a somewhat familiar feeling for in the early days, shortly after becoming the Rider, he would black out whenever the Spirit of Vengeance took charge. He'd wake later with no idea how he got there and only vague flashes of violence and horror to remind him of the activities the Rider had been up to the night prior. Over time though such cases had ceased. Zarathos and he had come to an agreement and rather than being adversaries vying for control of a single vessel, they were allies even if begrudgingly. Blaze could largely transform into the Rider whenever he desired, Zarathos often only took direct control of him when it was a matter of life and death, and for the most part the arrangement worked. Lately though, something had changed. Ever since whatever happened in New Orleans, something that had left half the supernatural world hunting him, he was back to waking up in strange places with no memory of what had led him there. Even the Rider didn't seem to have an answer for what was happening and though it would never admit it, Johnny was fairly certain that lack of knowledge made even Zarathos at least a little bit afraid.
At least it isn't a ditch this time, Blaze thought as he stood up, brushing leaves and dirt from his jeans.
A quick glance around told him very little. It was darker than dark without a star in the sky. He was in a small clearing in what looked like very dense woods. Tree sap, dirt, and other scents of nature permeated the air. Beneath it though was something else, a sharp, pungent smell tinged with iron.
Blood, he thought. Zarathos what the hell happened?
The Rider didn't answer, but a blinding light did.
Blaze winced, partially wondering if it was eyes adjusting or if Zarathos' preference for the dark was somehow effecting his vision. He didn't have long to wonder though as a sea of people appeared around him, voices raised and weapons drawn.
"Johnny Blaze, freeze! I wanna see hands in the air and you on your knees. No sudden movements. You are under arrest!"
Only then in the flash of red and blue lights did he see the bodies strewn around a camp site, each in worse shape than the last...
Everybody is scared of something.
Fear is, has, and likely will continue to be the driving force behind mankind's greatest achievements. Fear of deadly animals led people to live in caves. Fear of other men led to the development of weapons, walled cities, and the creation of civilization. The fear that resources on the planet will not be sustainable push humans further into the cosmos, to explore the vastness of the universe. Even farther back though, near the beginning, long before the other benefits became apparent, it was fear of the dark that led to early man harnessing fire to push the shadows away. In the modern era nightlights, motion sensors, and even night vision help combat this primal fear that almost everyone experiences at some point in their life.
Johnny Blaze was no different, but his was not a fear of the literal dark. He had been host to the Spirit of Vengeance, had been the Ghost Rider long enough to know that it wasn't the dark that needed to be feared, but what lurked in it. Over time even that fear had subsided. A guy didn't clash with demons on a regular basis, didn't end up spending time in Hell itself, and thwarting the schemes of supernatural forces from both this plane of existence and beyond and still get scared. No, monsters, demons, and other assorted evils didn't keep him up at night shaking like a kid afraid of what was inside his closet or under the bed. For Johnny the fear that now gripped him was one perhaps older than fear of the dark, but linked to it: fear of the unknown.
In this case it was not knowing how he had ended up wherever it was he now found himself. It was a somewhat familiar feeling for in the early days, shortly after becoming the Rider, he would black out whenever the Spirit of Vengeance took charge. He'd wake later with no idea how he got there and only vague flashes of violence and horror to remind him of the activities the Rider had been up to the night prior. Over time though such cases had ceased. Zarathos and he had come to an agreement and rather than being adversaries vying for control of a single vessel, they were allies even if begrudgingly. Blaze could largely transform into the Rider whenever he desired, Zarathos often only took direct control of him when it was a matter of life and death, and for the most part the arrangement worked. Lately though, something had changed. Ever since whatever happened in New Orleans, something that had left half the supernatural world hunting him, he was back to waking up in strange places with no memory of what had led him there. Even the Rider didn't seem to have an answer for what was happening and though it would never admit it, Johnny was fairly certain that lack of knowledge made even Zarathos at least a little bit afraid.
At least it isn't a ditch this time, Blaze thought as he stood up, brushing leaves and dirt from his jeans.
A quick glance around told him very little. It was darker than dark without a star in the sky. He was in a small clearing in what looked like very dense woods. Tree sap, dirt, and other scents of nature permeated the air. Beneath it though was something else, a sharp, pungent smell tinged with iron.
Blood, he thought. Zarathos what the hell happened?
The Rider didn't answer, but a blinding light did.
Blaze winced, partially wondering if it was eyes adjusting or if Zarathos' preference for the dark was somehow effecting his vision. He didn't have long to wonder though as a sea of people appeared around him, voices raised and weapons drawn.
"Johnny Blaze, freeze! I wanna see hands in the air and you on your knees. No sudden movements. You are under arrest!"
Only then in the flash of red and blue lights did he see the bodies strewn around a camp site, each in worse shape than the last...
