The Headquarters of the Weird Happenings Organization (W.H.O.)

Amber Greene stood with arms crossed, her attractive features set in an expression of mounting concern. She was in an observation room with approximately ten other agents of W.H.O., most of whom were barely able to restrain their excitement. Amber found their actions amusing in a distracted way -- Some of them almost looked sexually titillated by the torture going on before them.

"He's beginning to come out of it!" someone yelled, one of the technicians who lined the room into which Amber and her compatriots were viewing. The techs were dressed in full bodysuits, peering out at their prey through tinted visor-screens.

Their prey. Amber marveled at her mind's choice of words. But that's what the man below was to these people. Something to be captured and opened up. The techs would be dining for ages on the information he could give them.

He had been born John Blaze, growing up to become one of the world's foremost stunt cyclists. He was also heir to a long-standing family curse, one that bonded the eldest member of each generation to the eternal Spirit of Vengeance, embodied by the family's ancestor, Noble Kale. Blaze had managed to escape serving as Noble's host, though a cruel trick of fate had led him to sell his own soul to the demon Mephisto, who had bound him to the soul-stealing Zarathos. United with Zarathos, Blaze had come to be known far and wide as the Ghost Rider. He had battled to save his own humanity for many long years, vying for control of his mortal form with the undying demon. In the end, they had been separated and Blaze had become a father and a husband -- and a mentor to his long-lost brother, Dan Ketch, who had become the host for Noble Kale's spirit. With Dan's death, the spirit had passed on to their cousin, the sorceress Jennifer Kale... and John Blaze had once more resumed hosting the evil Zarathos during the so-called Black Mass affair*. 

(*It happened in the "Isles of Magick" crossover between this title and The Pendragons.)

You've led a hard life, Johnny Blaze. And it's not about to get any easier, she mused.

The original Ghost Rider stirred, the Hellfire that surrounded his skull flaring brighter. He was restrained by heavy power-nullifying bands, invented for use by America's derelict Project: Wideawake program. One of the techs stepped forward as Zarathos turned his steely gaze from one man to another. "Where am I?"

Amber heard James Heathrow's voice echo through the chamber below. He was in the viewing area, as well, holding a microphone against his lips. A thin patch of gauze hid his third eye from view, preventing the sentient orb from attempting another escape. "You are in the custody of the Weird Happenings Organization. We mean you no harm."

The Ghost Rider strained against the bonds that held him. "Then release me, mortals! Or I promise that you will all feel the fire that burns men's souls!"

Heathrow turned back to Amber and the others, being careful not to transmit his next words to the room below. "I'd say we're definitely speaking with the entity itself, not Blaze. That's consistent with what we've been hearing... that Blaze's control of their form has slipped since the Barrier went up."

"It also fits with the way things went during their last bit o'time together," another scientist murmured. "Blaze was in control at first but gradually gave way to the demon."

"But that occurred over years, not weeks." Amber pointed out. "The very nature of their merger is different now and we can't assume that everything that happens now is related to what went before. The barrier should have shown us that clearly enough." Amber looked directly at Heathrow as she said this, staring hard at his third eye. 

If her boss and former mentor took notice of her barb, he made no mention of it. His, and everyone else's, attention had been riveted back below. The Ghost Rider had tilted his head back, laughing maniacally. The sound was horrible, like something out of a nightmare. It seemed to pry its way into the brains of all who heard it and some of those nearest the demon cried out, clutching at their ears as jets of blood sprayed from within.

"Bloody hell," whispered Heathrow. "What's he doing? We don't have any reports of that...."

The sounds of a motorcycle's roaring engine cut off the rest of his words and the onlookers watched in mute amazement as a bike seemed to form out flames. It rested in the center of the lab, mere feet away from the demonic entity known as Zarathos. "Mortals... When I am free, I will teach you the folly of your ways -- and, if Blaze should weaken, I shall even end your lives here and now!"

Before anyone could move to stop it, the bike rocketed forward. It slammed into the side of the table holding Zarathos and the spinning wheels tore into the edge of the nullifying restraints. With a snap, they broke apart and the flame-headed being was free. 

Several armed guards ran forward, unleashing a torrent of energy from their laser rifles. The force was enough to stagger the eldritch being, who nearly fell to his knees before reaching out to grasp the handlebars of his bike. The contact seemed to revive him and he quickly threw himself atop the vehicle. 

He drove the bike forward, rolling through the techs and guards like bowling pins. Amber couldn't hide her own amusement and she was pretty sure that Heathrow, through the sudden mad tumble to reach the exits, glared at her as she laughed. 

She allowed herself to be carried from the observation area atop a tide of fearful scientists, but she managed to break free from the horde and take refuge in an empty hallway. She could hear the roar of the Ghost Rider's motorcycle as he burst through the double-doors in the lab and raced through the rest of the complex. The sound grew louder and louder until she felt he must be right on top of her. Moving closer to the edge of the hallway, she peered around and found herself staring directly into the face of the original Ghost Rider.

He sat atop his bike like he was some conquering warlord astride a great black steed and his voice was both imperious and terrifying. Behind him, men and women still scrambled for cover and Amber knew it was only moments before the more heavily armed forces arrived to subdue Zarathos once more. "Mortal female... Tell me the way out of this facility."

Amber swallowed hard, remembering all her training. Despite the horror of confronting this creature, she had to recall that this was what she'd wanted -- to stare into the face of the unknown and learn from it. Stepping forward, she knew that Heathrow would praise her tremendously if she stalled the original Ghost Rider long enough for him to be captured again. She might even get the promotion that she'd long sought after....

But, strangely enough, it was Jennifer Kale's face that stood out before her as she gazed into her own future. How would Jennifer, whom Amber was supposed to be studying objectively, view all of this? Would she understand that Amber was looking out for her own future? Or would she see Amber turning away from what she knew was right and taking the safer route?

Amber's words came in a quick, harshly whispered flurry. "You can't take any of the obvious exits -- They're all well-guarded and secured. The roof's out, too, for similar reasons. The only way we're going to get out of here is by going through the sub-systems, past the holding cells."

The original Ghost Rider slid the motorcycle forward to meet her. "We? What makes you think that I would take you with me? You are one of the enemy."

"I know the way out -- And if I were your enemy, why would I be telling you all this?"

"Because you are leading me into a trap....?"

Amber hesitated, knowing that her next words would make all the difference -- not only for her immediate safety, but also for her future with W.H.O. "I want to meet Jennifer Kale. I... I think," she sighed, hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps and the clink of heavy weaponry. "I think that I'm infatuated with her. I want to know her."

Zarathos paused before grabbing her roughly about the midsection and depositing her on the seat behind him. "Very well. But if you are lying, your soul and your life will be forfeit."

Amber held on tightly as the mystic motorbike zoomed forward down the hallway. She buried her face in the creature's leathers, wondering if she had just made the worst decision of her life... or the greatest.

 Ancient Tomes Bookstore and Cafe

Bansi sipped his coffee and tried hard to mask his extreme displeasure. He gulped it down and plastered on a smile. "Delicious."

Jennifer Kale, dressed in a knee-length leather skirt and emerald blouse, let a smirk play across her lips. She and her employer were standing in the rear of the Ancient Tomes store, while a large but quiet group of customers moved through the shelves. "You're a terrible liar. Want me to throw the rest of the pot out?"

Bansi laughed. "No. It's really not that bad. Tastes better than some of the things they used to serve in that pub down the street."

"The one that was shut down for health violations?" 

"That's the one."

Jennifer playfully poked her friend in the stomach. "Next time you can make your own coffee."

"Thank you so much, love. I really do appreciate that." 

Bansi glanced up as a customer stepped up to the counter, a stack of books in hand. Jennifer moved away, not wanting to be in the way. She wandered into the stacks, enjoying the smell and feel of so many old books all around her. It reminded her of the old days, of living and studying with Dakimh while her friends Howard and the Man-Thing shared bizarre adventures with her. 

It was kind of hard to believe all the twists and turns her life had taken over the years, from the heir to lost Atlantean magic to the host of the Spirit of Vengeance. Not that I'd change much, she thought. Even coming here and being trapped behind the barrier... It's let me get past all the anger and frustration I'd been building up. I feel like I actually have an honest-to-God purpose in life now, too. I owe you, Noble. I really do.

Jennifer stepped around the corner, having wandered into the occult area without thinking. What she saw before her brought her to a dead halt. 

A strikingingly beautiful woman dressed in a cleavage bearing leather bra and tight, black leather pants, stood there, flipping through a book entitled The Magick of Woman. 

Though her appearance was different from the last time she'd seen her, Jennifer had no trouble placing the nubile young girl before her... "Satana? What are you doing h--"

Satana, the daughter of Satan and the brother of Daimon Hellstrom, held up a finger for silence. She smiled enigmatically, whispering "Tone it down, girlfriend. Show some respect for the ancient knowledge in these books... A place like this deserves a little bit of civility."

Jennifer moved forward quickly, lowering her own voice. "How did you get here? Were you inside the Barrier when it went up?"

Satana closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Jennifer could feel the overpowering sexuality that Satana possessed -- a succubus at heart, Satana normally worked her wiles on men, but Jennifer's sexual leanings made her just as susceptible. "I was in Berlin when it happened. Nice job, by the way. If you guys hadn't stopped him, Blackheart would be running this town."

"Thanks." Jennifer shifted, moving away from the woman before her head got too cloudy to think. "So what brings you here?"

"Most of the mystical bigwigs are dead, Jen."

"I know," she replied, feeling uneasy. It had been her own failure to free Dr. Strange and the others from the astral prison that had led to their deaths.

"That only leaves a handful of experienced mages out there -- Alongside all those new practitioners that are popping up. Every housewife from here to Kent is working on a love potion or two."

"Yeah, we can't keep anything magic-related in stock for more than a few days. But what are you getting at? Why are you here chatting me up?"

Satana reached out and took Jennifer's hand in hers. "Because the time's ripe for somebody to step in and fill the void. If you buddy Dakimh hasn't already clued you in, I will -- an old doppleganger of Dr. Strange called Paradox is running around loose, planning to become the new Sorcerer Supreme." Seeing Jennifer indicate that she already knew this, Satana continued. "Not to mention Dr. Doom has the Eye of Agamotto and has who knows what in mind to do with it. It's our time, Jen -- You, me and whatever other chicks we can rope in with us."

"Chicks....?"

Satana leaned closer, brushing her lips against Jennifer's ear as she whispered "Why let the warlocks keep having all the fun? I think it's time we Witches took power for ourselves....."

Stacy Dolan sat outside the Ancient Tomes bookstore, seated at one of the small tables set up for the store's customers. She watched in amazement as a portly man soared high over ahead, his reptilian wings jutting forth from his back. He was joined after a moment by a pair of small pseudo-dragons, who seemed to enjoy the relatively calm day as much as he did.

Sighing, Stacy picked up a pencil and resumed writing in a small diary. 

Dear Daddy - 

I always knew London would be different from Brooklyn, but I never figured it would be *this* different. The Black Mass Barrier is supposedly beginning to spread over more of Europe now... If we don't all watch out, the whole world might end up under this magic field. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, though. Might cut down on the food shortages and the electricity rationing and the folks who are yelling for us to convert to more magical sources of energy. There's been two riots since Jennifer helped free me from the Furies' control and more are coming. I can feel it. The Pendragons -- sort of the British Avengers -- are mosttly missing right now*, and people on the street are getting antsy. 

(*See Pendragons # 14 for more on this.)

God. It's so scary, dad. I don't know if the Furies will take me over again. I don't know if I'll ever see you again. And I don't know if the pain of losing Dan will ever go away.

I hope it will. 

I really, really do.

She set down the pencil and frowned. Would her father ever really get these letters? Did it matter? Not really, she finally decided... She needed to get all this out somehow.

And then it hit.

A moment of extreme fear suddenly shot through her, making her chest tighten and her breath seize up in her throat. She saw a man nearby fall to his knees, a high-pitched squeal coming from him. All around them, others felt the sudden touch of icy horror. Some soiled themselves, others proclaimed their sudden conversion to religion. The reactions were are varied as the clothing they wore, but all felt it, nonetheless.

Jennifer Kale, followed by Satana, burst forth from inside the shop just as the effect began to fade. Jennifer knelt beside Stacy, hugging her reassuringly. "Stace... What happened?"

Stacy forced herself to calm down. She saw the concern in Jennifer's eyes and was touched by it. "I think... God, I hope I'm wrong."

"What? Tell me, sweetie."

"I felt something like that before -- and it was caused by the Scarecrow."

And Jennifer Kale felt her heart drop, thinking of the metahuman serial killer who'd so tormented Dan Ketch and the Ghost Rider in the past. William Laughton, horribly abused as a child, had taken it upon himself to release the fear in others -- often by cutting them open in an attempt to 'free' the terror. It couldn't be him, Jennifer mused. If Laughton had been trapped inside the barrier, his murders would have hit the news by now -- the Scarecrow's killings are always dramatic. Whatever this is, it's different.

Standing, Jennifer looked around for some sign of the feeling, but there was none. Noticing the darkening sky, she said "Satana. I'll call you later tonight, okay? And Stacy -- I'm taking you home."

The former policewoman rose, already shaking off the fear. "And then what?"

Jennifer turned to face her, a gleam in her eye. "Ghost Rider comes out to play, of course."

Paris, France

The being known as Paradox gently landed outside the 17th-century home, his cloak billowing about him. During the early days of his existence, he had been a creature of anger and pure force, but he had developed something akin to finesse... and curiosity... during his stay in the Dark Dimension with Clea.

He walked to the ancient oaken door and let the knocker fall once, twice and then a third time. The blows echoed loudly in the darkness. 

For long moments, nothing happened and the being known as Paradox began to yearn for the times when he would have merely blown the door aside and entered at his whim. 

But still he waited.

Though he did not like the men to whom he had come, he had also foreseen that they could aid him in his quest to assume Stephen Strange's legacy. For they had been altered much by the Black Mass and its affects... and Paradox would need their new found power.

Until, at long last, the door opened to reveal a man with skin as white as bone, dressed only in a long, black robe. "Greetings, Paradox," the man murmured. He opened the door wider to reveal another dozen figures behind him -- all identical to the first. "And welcome to the Scrier Cult."

Next Issue: Issue twelve is here -- and a bold new direction for Ghost Rider begins! What horrible threat is causing terror to spread throughout London? And what pact will Jennifer and Satana enter into -- and how does it play into the sacrifice made by Topaz?

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS

Welcome! I hope you enjoyed this issue, which had more than a few surprises, I hope. As promised, you'll be seeing an increased focus on Jennifer Kale and her supporting cast from here on out and the introduction of Satana is a major step in that direction. Also, I've been teasing all of you with little things concerning Topaz throughout our run, so look for me to finally explain the full details behind Topaz and her role in Jennifer's transformation soon.

See all of you next issue,

Barry