EDITOR’S NOTE: This arc takes place before Ghost Rider #1

TWO-LANE HIGHWAY

Part IV: Dream Angel

By John Wick and Chris Munn

I’ve seen fire bend around corners, seen it bounce like a rubber ball. Fire’s got a certain genius, you know? A certain demon poetry. It’s like it’s got a mind of it’s own.
-from The X-Files episode “Fire”

The Highway burned beneath him. The darkness of night gave way only to the beam of his headlight. Lane lines passed quickly beneath him into oblivion. On this desolate highway cold steel raced through cold air accompanied by an even colder and darker soul.

Blaze pushed the limits of his bike, watching as the needle on the speedometer ran above the highest mark. The air that blew past his head screamed through his ears and filled his soul with its icy determination. Blackheart had robbed him of his only son, and for that he would pay. However, the demon still had Emma and that gave him the only reason for pushing on in the cold dark night. One man alone would have the ability to find the demon. Blaze only hopped it wasn’t too late.

The darkened space pulsed with the exotic sounds of Madonna’s “I’ll Remember.” Grunts and groans could be heard throughout the room. On the stage a solitary figure stood gyrating her hips to the rhythm of the song. A greasy hand from a table close to the stage slapped down a hundred-dollar bill and the dancer known as Angel began to move towards the money.

What little clothes she wore were slowly being shed. Madonna sang, “I learned to let go of the illusion that we can possess.”

With a quick movement her leg shot straight up along the pole before the table with the money. Angel had the look of something fierce and exotic. Her body was unlike most of the other dancers that worked at this bar. The majority had given in to the sins of the city accepting what drugs and other vices could be thrown their way. Angel’s body, however, lived up to her name.

Her golden skin glimmered in the stage light. She looked into the darkness where the man was sitting, unable to make out a face. Slowly she lowered her body letting her dark hair cascade before her. Once her body was lowered to the stage floor she crawled on hands and knees slowly towards the man. With her teeth, she picked up the bill and finally was able to make out the silhouette of the patron.

A gruff voice that sounded like raw sandpaper reached her ears from the table.

“I expect more than a dance for the money I’m giving you.”

A hand reached out towards the girl in a quick motion and tore away the flimsy latex bra she had on. A gasp escaped her lips as the man reached out to fondle her breasts. With a quick movement, she pivoted on the stage and the man suddenly found a very expensive Italian high heel puncturing his cheek.

“Fuck!” the man screamed out.

Angel grabbed the bill and quickly placed it in her panties. She turned to walk away and could hear the whistling noise issuing from the new hole the stranger had earned. As she walked towards the stage doors the bouncers approached.

“Where the hell were you guys? That mongrel had his paws on me.”

Without a word the two bouncers who towered over angel by nearly a foot and a half approached. One of them slapped her hard across her face. The other grabbed her by her hair and pulled her off stage while the other grabbed her feet to keep her from kicking.

Both men held her tightly to keep her from getting free. Backstage a short squat man walked towards them smoking a cigar. He looked like a cross between a human being and some greasy hairy beast. His hair was thinning and plastered to his head by the beads of sweat that cascaded down his face. With each step towards her the look in his eyes held malice. A scar that ran the entire length of his face disfigured his left side. With a motion he signaled another bouncer to come. Leaning down the squat sweaty man whispered something into his ear and through the corner of her eye Angel saw him walk towards the stage, though she couldn’t see what was happening on stage she knew something was terribly wrong.

The short man came within a half inch of her face. She was held parallel to the ground. She could smell the hideous breath that the cigar did little to hide and his foul body odor permeated her olfactory nerves causing her eyes to tear more than the slap she had received from the bouncer.

“You bitch!” the man said with a raspy voice. “Do you have any idea what its like to have your face scarred like you did out there?” he said while touching his own scarred face.

Angel started to protest but the Bouncer who supported the weight of the top portion of her body by her hair used one of his hands to slap her hard across her other cheek.

“Listen up, whore… that was something we in the business world like to call a rhetorical question. Make no mistake this is all about business and the gentleman you assaulted back there happens to be an associate of mine.”

Tears welled up in Angel’s eyes and cascaded down her cheeks made red-hot sensitive from the slaps she had received. She felt the fear growing inside of her. Any sudden movements she made only seemed to add to the pain she felt from the weight placed upon her hair. She was trapped and she knew it.

Hovering over her the man blew smoke directly into her face causing her to cough, making the stress upon the roots of her hair burn all the more. With a very slow motion he held up the cigar before her eyes and watched, as they grew wide with terror.

“Don’t worry Angel, I’m not going to hurt your pretty face… I’ll leave that to my associate.”

The bouncer pulled her hair up towards the ceiling causing her head to look towards her feet and with terror she watched the cigar move slowly until it was pressed hard and extinguished upon her nipple. Angel let out a scream, which only resulted in another hard slap to her face. The bouncer who had gone on stage came back and nodded towards his boss.

“Looks like the audience is ready for you dear.” He laughed out loud.

The bouncer pulled Angel hard by her hair and then both carried her onto the stage. The lights were on high and she couldn’t make out anything in the darkness beyond but she could hear muffled voices and a whistling noise she knew belonged to her employer’s associate. With a move that was quick the bouncers slammed her body hard upon what could have only been one of the tables from the audience. The wind had been knocked out of her. While she struggled to catch her breath she felt her arms and legs being secured to the table.

The associate now appeared before her face blood dripping from his wound and saliva falling upon her brow. He placed his slimy hand on her face and slowly trailed it down over her burnt nipple. She would have screamed out in pain if any air were left in her lungs. His hand continued downward and pulled the hundred-dollar bill from her panties.

“I’m here to collect bitch! Don’t worry though, Mr. Franklin here wont be the last man you have before you die.”

He smiled a grin, which had several teeth missing and shoved the bill into her mouth. From the corner of her eye she could see all the men in the audience taking off their clothes and suddenly felt the firm pressure of the fat associate upon her.

The steel door behind the strip club in Queens slammed open hard against the brick wall. Two men walked into the cold night carrying a naked woman. They pushed past some crates and lifted up the woman who was covered in deep lacerations, burns and bruises. Without a word they heaved her up and slammed her as hard as they could into the garbage bin. Then, both turned and walked back into the club locking the door behind them.

Angel couldn’t remember much of what had just happened. All she remembered was pain; pain from burns; pain from cuts. Pain from being forced to take things repeatedly that no one should have to take. Her blood mixed with other vital bodily fluids and dripped down her face into her eyes. She was dying and she knew it. As consciousness faded and she began to accept her fate she heard a voice next to her in the garbage bin.

“Looks like the ride’s about over… if you know what I mean.” A dark laugh echoed in the metal container. “Not that you haven’t had enough rides already today.”

Angel fought to open her eyes but only one responded to the message sent to it by her brain. She could only see two shining red eyes through the blood.

“Well Angel dear… Looks like this is it…. Most people leave this world like a bad TV Sitcom after the pilot fails. And your pilot light is just about out ain’t it?”

Angel could hear the words from what she imagined must be the misfiring synapses as her brain slowly deprived itself of oxygen.

“Maybe I can re-light that fire for you? Would you like that? Maybe I can give you a ride unlike any you’ve ever had. It doesn’t have to end like this. All you have to do for me is one favor and all of this will go away.”

A cold and scaly hand reached into her mouth and pulled out the hundred-dollar bill.

“I can’t guarantee Franklin will be the last man you have but I can guarantee you’ll get all the revenge you want.”

Angel breathed with shallower and shallower breaths. Something cold and long began to snake its way from her ankle up her leg towards her pelvis.

“Now, dear… how about we play one of my favorite games…”

Blackheart smiled in the garbage bin as his arms wrapped themselves around the naked and dying girl. With a look of triumph he smiled to himself and leaned in towards the Angel’s ear. Just before he took her for his own he whispered…

“…Lets Make a Deal.”

Blaze took the corner like the bike was on rails. Hellfire flew into the night and extinguished itself upon the asphalt as soon as it fell. On any other street in any other city on the planet people would turn to stare. They’d point and call for help. They’d scream and run. But this wasn’t an average street. Residents of this neighborhood had long abandoned what many believed to be ‘conventional’ views of the ‘real world’.

Blaze pushed the bike hard giving the accelerator all the fuel it would take to cover the next few blocks in a matter of seconds. Screeching to a halt he pushed the kickstand down hard and tossed his cigarette onto the ground extinguishing it with his shoe. A child no more than nine years old walked up him.

“Cool bike, dude! Can you teach me how to do that?”

The child looked at blaze with wide wondered eyes that observed every inch of the motorcycle.

“Kid, if you want to throw your life away to a demon, lose your soul, regain it again, and then sell it once more for the chance to save your children, only to have one killed before your eyes for a flaming bike, then no, I can’t teach you how to do ‘that’.”

The kid gave Blaze a cold look, walked calmly towards him, and kicked him hard in the shin. Blaze jumped off his bike and towered over the child looking like a giant before him. In the distance a voice called out from one of the houses….

“Malcolm… Get away from that flaming bike… most likely only a flaming man would be riding one… it’s late! Now get your butt in here before I tan your hide.”

The child continued to stare at Blaze unafraid. Quietly he whispered against the wind…

“You’re lucky mister… My mom saved you. But don’t always count on being saved by the bell, you dork!”

“I said get your butt in here now, Malcolm!”

The child turned and ran towards his house; just before he went inside he looked back at Blaze and flipped him off.

‘Well I may be a dork,’ thought Blaze, ‘but at least I have a flaming bike…’ Blaze looked across the street and started taking some steps towards the residence across the way.

“… I hate Bleecker Street.” He mumbled under his breath.

Blaze walked towards the door to the Sanctum Sanctorum. ‘There’s only one man who can find that demon wherever he may hide’ thought Blaze. ‘Dr. Strange will have to help.’

He pushed forward towards the door and a flood of images suddenly assailed him. In a flash he caught a glimpse of a woman. The daughter of Dracula, Lilith, smiled at him, causing hellfire to well up from within, then the image shifted and Vickie Montesi stared hard into the distance, another woman younger suddenly appeared but quickly faded into the ether, finally the last image came to him, Clea, Dr Strange’s wife appeared in his mind as he touched the door. A single thought pushed into his mind and he knew … no one was or would be home for a long time.

Blaze walked back towards his bike, released the kickstand and sped off into the night.

‘I’ll find the demon one way or another,’ he thought to himself.

The steel door ripped off its hinges a lot easier than she thought it would. The startled bouncer behind it let out a gasp just before he saw her walk in. He saw what he thought looked like, but couldn’t have been… Angel, the girl he had helped dump only a half hour ago in the alley. She was naked then.

She now entered the rear entrance wearing black stockings, which came up halfway between her knee and torso. Garters held them to a latex pair of shorts that allowed two inches of her flesh to show beneath them. Her ample breasts were covered by a black halter-top exposing her stomach. Fishnet arm warmers covered her arms from below her shoulder to her wrist and her hands wore black latex gloves with holes cut out for the fingers, which sported fingernails wickedly large and sharp. He watched in stunned silence as her black nine inch heels echoed on the concrete beneath her towards him.

“We dumped you in the…” were the only words the bouncer was able to get out.

“No one dumps Angel.” She replied as she thrust her fingernails into his throat.

Gurgling noises issued forth as blood began to fill his trachea. Just before he lost consciousness and fell to the floor twitching she withdrew her hand and slapped him hard across his face.

The music echoed back stage. A remix of Prodigy’s “Firestarter” began blasting through the sound system filling the place with its rhythmic beats and edgy noise. She turned the corner and walked out on stage where only an hour ago she had been brutally assaulted and gang raped. It appeared as though she wasn’t the only one to suffer that fate. Each of the girls who worked there was giving themselves willingly to the audience after seeing what had been done to Angel. Hardly anyone noticed her at first.

Then the music hit a quiet moment and Angel pulled from deep within causing the stage to catch on fire. Men and women looked around in a panic and a spotlight shined down upon Angel just as the lyrics began to blast…

“I’m the trouble starter, fuckin’ instigator…”

Everyone tried to run. They tried to leap off the stage but as each one reached the edge Angel forced her will upon them, causing them to freeze in their tracks. One of the girls ran towards Angel with a knife that was lying on the ground.

“I’m the fear addicted, danger illustrated…” the music continued….

Angel grabbed the knife from the girl and plunged it deep into her eye socket at the same instant the girl screamed in pain and immediately burst into flames. The rest of the women who cowered on the floor immediately burst into flames as well.

Angel let out a maniacal laugh and shifted her gaze towards the men who had only moments ago had their vicious way with her. Two of them ran towards her ready to tackle her to the ground. Just before they reached her though, Angel jumped into the air flipping several times and landed behind them. One quickly found his skull impaled by the heel of her shoe, the other stumbled and fell to the ground. With a smile Angel slashed her razor sharp nails across the nape of his neck severing his spinal cord.

“I’m the bitch you hated, filth infatuated…” the music blared…

She pivoted on her heel and looked at the remaining men. Two bouncers remained trying to avoid the flames. The man with the hole in his cheek also remained along with her scar-faced ex employer.

The two bouncers who had carried her roughly and slapped her around advanced upon her carefully circling her like a pack of wolves does its prey. Before either one could move though Angel flicked her wrists towards each of the men and two blades flew towards them hitting their mark. Both bouncers found a quick death.

The music continued…”Yeah. I’m the pain you tasted, fell intoxicated…”

Her ex employer fell to his knees and began to beg for his life.

“Please… don’t kill me… please… take him… just please let me live.”

Angel laughed and looked at him with disgust.

“I bet you’re wondering if I’m going to let you live or not,” she laughed. “Actually, I am wondering something, but it’s not that…” She let out a sigh. “I’m wondering how I should kill you.”

Just then for the first time she heard the words to the music that was blasting…

“I’m the self inflicted, mind detonator…” the band sang…

“What a great idea!” she said out loud.

Angel reached inside of herself and pulled on her strength… the man on his knees suddenly gripped his head and started to shake just before his head exploded.

The man with the hole in his cheek looked on astonished. She slowly approached him holding him paralyzed with her will. Slowly she traced her fingernail from his chin down towards his crotch and gripped hard.

“You’ve been a very bad boy.” She laughed. “I can see the terror in your eyes. Don’t you know, its not nice to defile Angels, they tend to answer to a higher power. I believe I have something that belongs to you.”

Angel reached into her bra and pulled out the crumpled hundred-dollar bill. She released the grip her hand had on his manhood and began to crumble the bill into a ball. Holding it up before the man’s eyes she let a wry grin escape as she pushed it into the hole in his check causing the wound to expand.

“Though I like the prospect” she said, “I can’t have you running around with too many orifices now can I?”

“Yeah. I’m the one infected; twisted animator…” continued the song…

“Oh don’t worry she said, Mr. Franklin won’t be the last filthy thing to plug that hole of yours.”

Angel reached down again and the man fainted as she relieved him of what he believed to be the meaning of life.

“Guess you don’t want to play after all” she said.

With an act of concentration she caused all the bodies on the stage to spontaneously combust. Turning, she walked through the flames towards the now exposed egress where the steel door once stood. As her footsteps clicked on the concrete she could hear the music in the background fading in the distance…

“I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter… starter… starter…starter…”

‘Vengeance is hard work’ she thought.

“I need a drink,” she said to herself.

Angel walked from the alleyway and turned the corner on the sidewalk. She continued down the block and as she turned the corner she heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

The doorway to the bar was open and Blaze pushed his way inside. Without Dr. Strange and the strange vision from Clea informing him that no one was home he had to try to find a way to get to Blackheart. Riding his bike had always calmed him but tonight nothing seemed to work. As a last resort he had decided perhaps waiting would be the best idea. Strange would have to turn up sooner or later, either that or he’d figure out the next course of action over a pint of beer.

‘Gotta have a plan,’ John thought to himself. ‘Dammit, gotta have a plan.’

Blaze walked into the bar taking in the scene. Everything looked pretty status quo. The establishment was dark and filled with smoke. There were only two people inside. One bartender worked behind the bar and was trying hard not to stare at a woman dressed in black latex and hose that sat at the end of the bar looking into her glass. Blaze didn’t know what to make of it. Sure this was a strange city, filled with strange folk, but the populace usually didn’t go around in their underwear to have a drink.

Blaze pushed the thought from his mind and sat at the opposite end of the bar. The bartender threw down a napkin and nervously looked at him. Sweat was dripping from his brow.

“What’ll it be?” he said.

“Whatever is on tap and make it quick.”

The bartended filled a glass and put it down before blaze. The woman looked at the bartender and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. To avert his eyes he turned on the television and began to watch the Jerry Springer show.

Blaze looked long and hard into the watered down beer and took a huge gulp. Just then he felt a hand touch his shoulder and saw from his peripheral vision that the woman had sat down next to him. Blaze turned his head to look at her and caught a gleam of something in her eyes as if she knew him.

“Nice outfit” he said looking her up and down. “Don’t you find it a bit cold though?”

The woman let out a laugh. “Its not that bad” she said ” in fact I think you’ll find I can be a lot warmer than I look”.

She grabbed Blaze’s hand and placed it just above her breast on her chest. Indeed her flesh felt hot though the night was cold. She smiled at him and dipped her finger into his glass stirring the alcohol. Blaze pulled his cup away and shot her a look that showed he definitely wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.

“You go around dipping your appendages in other peoples property often?” he chided.

The woman looked at Blaze and raised her finger towards her lips. She licked the residue of the alcohol from the base of her finger in a slow long stroke to the tip, and then plunged her mouth down upon its full length. Removing her finger from her mouth she smiled and replied…

“Don’t you?”

Blaze had to laugh. Only in his world would a beautiful lingerie clad woman walk up to him in a bar and use cheesy pickup lines on him.

‘Hell’ he thought, ‘only in my world would a beautiful lingerie clad woman do this and I would want to be left alone. I’m cursed.’

The woman smiled at him and Blaze felt a strange thing occurring. He suddenly found this woman more attractive than anything he had ever seen before in his life. Blaze shifted in his seat and looked directly into the woman’s eyes. He felt his body responding as though he were some high school nerd staring at the head cheerleader.

“My name’s Blaze… John Blaze,” he said realizing suddenly that he was starting to sound like a bad James Bond impersonation.

The woman lowered his hand towards her breast and leaned in close to his face. He could feel her breath hot and shallow exhaled against his skin. One of her hands reached towards his face as the other trailed up his leg towards his crotch.

“Mine is Angel,” she said in a sultry voice.

“Holy Christ!” cried the bartender.

He was staring at the television and switching his gaze from the set to the woman at the bar.

“It’s you!”

Blaze managed to look up at the screen and saw a photo of the woman next to him on the screen. Underneath her picture the name read “Angel Martinez” and above it read, “Suspect at large”. A reporter came on live before a burning building.

“…no witnesses. Security cameras show that the suspect, Angel Martinez, slaughtered her co workers and the patrons …”

Suddenly Angel felt hot. She felt the heat from Blaze. Not only from his crotch where she expected it but from his face as well. She recoiled her hand and watched as the face of John Blaze began to blister and melt away. Angel was astounded. She had hoped to at least get some sex out of the guy before she made him burst into flame.

‘Guess I don’t know my own power,’ she thought.

Blaze let out a scream that echoed with the sounds of hell itself. The bartender decided to try to do the same but only managed to sound like a frightened girl scout in the woods. He jumped over the bar and ran out the front door, never looking back.

Blaze continued to scream in agony as Angel watched with a look that was a cross between sadness and contentment.

‘Now my deal is complete. I wont owe a favor to that miserable demon anymore.’ She thought. She focused her attention back towards the man whose face was now blackening and catching fire.

“Sorry babe, you could’ve at least had one more go at it before you expired but I guess your mind is weaker than I thought.”

Suddenly the face that once was John Blaze’s disappeared all together and only a skull was left. To her surprise the body wasn’t dead. Instead the skull opened its mouth and let out a cry. Red eyes focused on her and she watched, as his body seemed to change and grow taller. Blaze’s clothes changed before her eyes as well.

“Innocent blood has been spilled!” yelled Ghost Rider. “You will pay for every drop that was spent!”

“I don’t know what the hell you are but the only blood that’s gonna be spilled around here will be yours,” retorted Angel.

She pushed herself up from her chair and tried to make a gymnasts move flipping over backwards away from him. In mid air though, her leg suddenly was caught by something hard that tore at the flesh around her ankles and ripped her stockings. Angel fell hard to the floor. And looked up at Ghost Rider as he recalled the chain to his side.

“You have spilled blood for the last time.” He belted out.

“You’ve ruined a pair of my Agent Provocateur hosiery you bastard! You’ve ruined lingerie for the last time!” screamed Angel.

Angel stood and faced the Ghost Rider. Pulling on all her powers of concentration she forced her thoughts upon him. The fire that engulfed his head now spread and emanated over his entire body. Ghost Rider focused his gaze towards her. Angel shuddered as his red eyes looked at her. She averted her gaze and lost her concentration.

“You shouldn’t play with fire,” said Ghost Rider, “unless you’re willing to get burned.”

Ghost Rider pulled his shotgun from within his coat and pointed it squarely at the girl who crouched down like a panther ready to strike.

“You will feel the wrath of my penance stare,” he said as he took a step towards the girl.

Angel pounced and flew through the air above Ghost Rider’s head forcing her will to carry her as far as she could towards the front door before she landed. She hit the floor running and made her way for a speedy exit.

Ghost Rider was caught off guard and turned as quickly as he could letting out a blast from his shotgun that managed to catch Angel on her arm. Quickly, Hellfire began to pour over her body causing her to writhe on the ground. Ghost Rider slowly started taking steps towards the burning girl.

“You will feel the weight of my stare,” he said calmly as he walked towards her.

Ghost Rider lowered his gun and continued walking. Just then a strong force pushed him from behind and he went flying through the front wall of the establishment. He flew through the air outside and landed in the middle of the highway in front of the bar. Quickly, he stood to face the woman again and saw that she was no longer on fire but in the arms of Blackheart, who let out a wicked laugh.

“Zarathos my old friend… Ready to join the right side yet? I think we have some room for an extra or two on the set!”

Ghost Rider felt the hellfire within burn hotter and brighter than it ever had before.

“Both of you shall know the taste of vengeance when I am through with you!” he cried.

“In that case,” said Blackheart, “seems you need to watch a little more safety television flame head!” Blackheart let out a laugh and pointed to the left of Ghost Rider. Ghost Rider turned his gaze in time to see a large bus barreling towards him.

“Look both ways before crossing the street!” yelled blackheart as he ran down the sidewalk and through the alleyway with Angel in his arms.

Ghost Rider Jumped to avoid the bus, but wasn’t quite fast enough. The lower half of his body was slammed at 60 MPH causing him to spin in the air before landing hard again on the asphalt. The bus came skidding to a stop. Ghost Rider fell to the ground and blacked out for a moment. After several minutes a man in his late 60’s came out the bus doors looking back towards Ghost Rider.

“Oh my God… Oh my god… I killed someone … Oh please let him be okay… please let him be alive” said the man. As he approached the body it suddenly stood up and looked at him. The man immediately proceeded to wet his pants.

“Oh Jesus… Oh Jesus… Oh Lord… let it be dead… let it be dead…” he cried as he ran back inside the door to the bus. Ghost rider dusted off his jacket and watched as the bus driver put the vehicle in drive and burned rubber to leave the scene.

Pushing the dazed moment from his mind he jumped on his bike, started the motor and sped off in the direction that Blackheart had taken only minutes ago.

‘The trail is fresh,’ thought Ghost Rider. ‘The quarry is mine.’

NEXT: Ghost Rider is on the trail of Blackheart… Blaze searches for a friend… Blackheart devises more mischief… and the night is still young…

Pencil of Vengeance

Hello everyone out there. Seems it’s been far too long since I got an issue out to you. I must apologize for the delay. Seems every time life gets back on track something major derails it. Needless to say though, I have not abandoned you. I hope this issue lives up to the expectations created by the last one.

I’ve received a few comments and two letters and shall post some them here … I live for feedback so don’t hide in the corners come on out and drop me a line. It’s the only way I know if this is working.

I’ll start with a letter from a reader Lance Furguson a fellow writer at MDL:

Hey John,
Great start for your work on Ghost Rider. You know something, I never read Ghost Rider growing up. But I will be reading your version. It grabbed my attention right away and never let go.

Can’t wait for #4.

I will definitely be reading this series. Cheers for you my friend.

Great job brother,
Lance

Thanks Lance,
It’s always nice to know that something I wrote actually appealed to someone else. Though it may be hard for me to forgive you for not reading Ghost Rider, perhaps this will help to wet your appetite and pick up an issue or two.

Issue #4 is here, as you can tell; I hope it grabbed your attention again. And if you hang in there #5 should be just as good.

Next letter:

Hey John,
I haven’t read Ghost Rider for a long time. I have only one question: Are all the modern Ghost Rider issues this harsh? It was great! I’ll be back to read more.

-Brendan 

Well Brendan…
As the warning on Startling’s main page states: “Not for everyone — and definitely not for kids — these are the stories that go too far. Here, anything can happen.” Though modern issues may not be quite as harsh, Ghost Rider has always had the potential.

Hope to hear from you again on this issue. I’ll do my best to keep it as dark and gritty as I can.

Aside from the letters I’ve received a few comments via chat and shame on me for not saving them but I would like to give a shout out and thank Megan Curtis, Chris Munn, and Nate Charles for their encouragement and their words of support.

Well that seems to be all that I have for the letters column this issue, as you can tell it’s a start, but I’d like more. So send ’em on in. So… until the next issue I’m signing up and checking out.

– John Wick
1/5/03