Everything I touched was golden
Everything I loved got broken
On the road to Mandalay
Every mistake I've ever made
Has been rehashed and then replayed
As I got lost along the way.
--- "Road to Mandalay" by Robbie WWilliams

Flint McConnell ran as hard and as fast as his twenty-two year old legs could go. He still held the bloody switchblade in his left hand, his fingers clutching it so tightly that his fingers had turned purple from the exertion. The good-for-nothing slag that he'd been shagging in the park had screamed so loud that she'd brought him some trouble -- and the thing that had answered her call had no interest in hearing how she'd been teasing poor Flint so badly for the past few months that he'd just had to finally show her who was boss... it wasn't like her face wouldn't heal and her bones wouldn't mend, after all.

The sound of a motorcycle rounding the corner behind him caused Flint to glance backwards over his shoulder. A devil in red-and-yellow leather roared after him, its fleshless head ablaze with hellish fire.

Flint plunged forward, tripping over a tree root and tumbling head over foot to the ground. When his vision cleared, he was lying on his back... and staring up into the face of hell itself.

The Ghost Rider grabbed Flint by the collar and hauled him to his feet, the two of them now speeding forward on the bike together. If he took notice of the growing stain of wetness on Flint's pants, the Spirit of Vengeance made no mention of it.

For Flint's part, the terror reached its pinnacle when his feet began to touch the ground below as the motorcycle continued on its course. Each blow seemed to reverberate up his entire torso and vivid images of his legs being ripped to shreds filled his mind. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease! I'm sorry!"

Ghost Rider slowed the cycle, finally coming to a halt at the edge of Highgate Cemetery. "This is where you are headed, little rapist. To an early grave and an eternity of Hell!"

Flint sobbed, his vision blurred by tears. He knew now that this was the being he'd heard so much about... the skull-faced motorcyclist who punished the guilty. Not too long ago, Flint would have dismissed such a thing as a figment of his drug-addled imagination, but ever since the Prime Minister was revealed to be a demon, he was unwilling to dismiss anything from the realm of possibility. "Sh-she wanted it. I swear!"

Ghost Rider pulled him close, unleashing his most dreaded of abilities -- the Penance Stare. In that moment, Flint saw himself for what he was... a scared, impotent little man who sought dominance over others as a way to hide his own insecurities. He felt the pain of his victims and he knew that he would never sleep soundly again, for their screams would haunt him forever.

Noble Kale, the pastor's son who so long ago had become the living Spirit of Vengeance, tossed aside the young man like he was nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. "Vengeance has been served."

The flames which danced about the Ghost Rider's skull began to retract and fade away, even as warm flesh returned to the bones and the overall form of his body became more feminine. Within a few seconds, Jennifer Kale -- the beautiful young sorceress who served as the host for Noble Kale's spirit -- was once more in the realm of man.

She leaned against the bike, running a hand through her blond locks and sighed wearily. Noble had been very zealous as of late, punishing the guilty throughout London. He feels guilty, she mused. He thinks that we should have been able to stop Blackheart before he'd cut off most of Europe from the rest of the world*. Not to mention all the weird monsters and magical energies that's swirling around.

(*In the recent "Isles of Magick" crossover that ran through Pendragons # 8-9 and Ghost Rider U.K. # 7.)

"Long time, no see, kid."

Jennifer looked up to see John Blaze leaning against the nearby gate. He looked haggard, but sober -- a definite improvement from how she'd seen him more and more often as of late. "John! How are you?"

Blaze accepted her embrace, patting her back warmly. "You holding up okay?"

"Me? I'm fine... the shop's been closed for a few days because of all the weird stuff going on, but that just gives me and Noble more time to get acquainted."

"Good for you," Blaze murmured, half-heartedly. "So... Why's Noble running around in that Ronald McDonald outfit again?"

Jennifer crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Actually, it was my idea. I like that look."

"Remind me never to ask you for fashion advice...."

"Says the guy who's been wearing the same damned blue jumpsuit since 1973," Jennifer replied.

Blaze grinned and took her by the hand. "We need to talk."

"About Zarathos?" Jennifer asked, knowing that it was. Blaze had rejoined with the soul-stealing demon during the recent battle with Blackheart. Afterwards, he'd kept his distance from her, preferring to deal with this new tragedy -- and the fact that he was now trapped inside the Black Mass Barrier, away from his wife and children.

"That's one thing, yeah." The two of them walked Jennifer's bike into the cemetery, hearing sirens in the distance. Since the Barrier had gone up, there'd been widespread panic and looting, taxing the efforts of heroes like the Pendragons and Shamrock. The police and military were both out in full force, with the Labour party back in temporary control of the government until new elections could be held. "What are we going to do here? I mean... this is way beyond anything we can deal with. Magic is everywhere, people are sprouting supernatural abilities left and right and technology is hit-or-miss nowadays. There's the chance it could go out completely and then what? Europe's screwed."

"Yeah. I know." Jennifer stopped next to a large crypt, one that Noble sometimes used as a place of rest. It was funny to her that here, in the place of the dead, she sometimes felt the most at peace. "But all we can do is help hold everything together until somebody finds a way to get through that barrier." She looked up at him, studying his face. "How are you doing with Zarathos?"

Blaze exhaled, blowing out a small plume of smoke. "Not too good. We were merging at first, but now... Now, he's gaining control of our Ghost Rider form. I don't even remember what he does." He tossed out his cigarette and crushed it beneath his boot. "And Wynter hasn't been able to come up with a spell to separate us yet. He says we're linked at the soul and any parting could kill us both."

"I'm sorry, John." Jennifer bit her lower lip in concentration. "Let me and Dakimh--"

"No."

"But I thought...."

Blaze stepped away, looking up at the awful reddish-tinged moon that hung overhead. "Roxanne and the kids are out there, Jen. I can't see them or hear them because communications are on the fritz with anything outside the barrier, but they're out there. I'm going to get back to them. And right now, Zarathos and his power might help me do that. Without it, I'm just a stunt rider. With it... I'm the original Ghost Rider."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. Zarathos is evil and--"

"Believe me, Jen, I know." He cast her a smile over his shoulder. "Me and Z are hitting the road, though. I'm going to travel wherever I have to, looking for a way through that barrier. There's gotta be one, I can feel it."

Jen nodded, knowing that there was no way she could talk him out of this -- John Blaze was as hard headed as they come. "Be careful, cuz."

"You, too. And I'll be in touch."

John Blaze walked away, disappearing into the depths of the cemetery... and Jennifer felt very alone, left as she was with only the Spirit of Vengeance to keep her company.

  BBC-1 Newsfeed

"...This is Trish Tilby, still reporting on location in London, England. We still have no idea how many people outside the barrier might be recieving this transmission, but if you are -- let me tell you that this situation is liike none I could ever have conceived." The attractive young reporter moved past the smoking ruins of 10 Downing Street, where emergency workers still held out hope that they would find survivors amidst the rubble. The Pendragons known as Spitfire and Captain Britain, along with the recently returned Miracleman, were all there as well. "With the dramatic events of the past week, we've seen Tony Blair and the Labour Party resume power... but this is an England, and a greater European Community at large, that is very different from the one they knew before."

"Technology of all sorts is now operating on an inconsistent basis, sometimes with alarming or disastrous results. Various hospitals have reported widespread power outages, resulting in numerous complications and even deaths. For this and many other reasons, the various nations that make up the European Community have declared a state of emergency and are trying to reassure people that basic services will continue and that the economy will survive. In fact, many store owners are planning to reopen as soon as-- Ohmigod!"

Something large swooped down over Trish Tilby's head, making the woman scream and duck out of camera shot. When she stepped back into view, she and the workers nearby were staring skyward. "Ladies and gentlemen, that was a gargoyle -- a living, breathing gargoyle. One of many that have taken up residence throughout London. For those of you on the outside of the barrier, I know this is difficult to picture, but all over Europe, the creatures of myth have returned -- faerie, gargoyles, trolls, etc. This is in addition to scores of people reporting strange powers of their own developing, everything from precognition to flight."

Trish took a deep breath before continuing. "But, despite the riots and the panic, despite the bizarre monsters that now face us, the people of England especially are perservering. Life goes on, as strange and as frightening as it may be. Trish Tilby, reporting."

Bansi's Flat

"Are you awake, Mr. Badilino?"

Michael Badilino opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of the small guest bedroom he'd been given. His aches and pains were beginning to fade, though scars now littered his torso, making him look like a patchwork man. He rose up and faced Bansi, the owner of the flat. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm awake."

Bansi stepped into the room, dressed for work. "I'm going to be heading into town and re-opening the shop today... Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?"

The former NYPD officer swung his feet off to the bed and stood up. He wore an oversized shirt and shorts, his face looked stubbly and unclean. "I heal real quick."

"So I see," Bansi said, marvelling at how well this stranger had revived since ending up on his doorstep during the Black Mass affair*. 

(*In Ghost Rider U.K. # 6)

"Look," Michael said "I appreciate you taking me in the way you did. Not many people would've done that."

"Well... You looked pretty bad. You still haven't told me what happened. I think that you owe me that much."

Badilino grinned. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Bansi strode over to the bedroom window and pulled back the curtains. A trio of imps were perched outside, feasting on a small bird they'd killed. Each of them looked up at Bansi with glittering eyes. "I think," Bansi said, gesturing towards the imps, "that I'm pretty open to anything, right now."

"Hmm. Can't argue with that. Okay... I was a cop in New York who ended up making a very bad deal with a demon named Mephisto. He's the father of that Blackheart guy who made such a mess here... Anyway, he awakened a dormant potential within me and transformed me into a supernatural creature called Vengeance. I rode around the country for awhile after that, dealing out the kind of justice I never could as a cop... and then I went a little nuts. Ended up in Hell, where scorpions crawled all over me for what felt like eternity. I was freed by the Ghost Rider and given a particular mission -- and I came here to London to find him and tell him that I failed."

Bansi sighed. This was very, very weird -- but in light of all that had happened recently, who could say it was beyond possibility? "Okay... And you ended up at my flat by chance?"

"I'm not sure I believe in chance anymore, pal. Not after the way my life's gone." Badilino pulled his clothing out of the closet and began to get dressed. "The only cash I have is American... guess it's pretty useless as long as that barrier's in place, eh? Still, you're welcome to it since you've been taking care of me."

Bansi shook his head. "It's not necessary. Watching the telly has been so frightening that it felt good to help at least one person. You're going after this Ghost Rider fellow now?"

"Yep."

"How will you find him?"

Badilino smirked, small flames beginning to appear about his face. To Bansi's horror, bony protrusions burst forth from beneath Badilino's skin and the former policeman howled in agony as his body grew and changed. Within a minute, he was standing there dressed in leather, looking like a deranged biker from hell. "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem -- he'll find me," Vengeance declared.

Thames University, Ancient Studies Department

Amber Greene walked through the mostly quiet campus, noting how eerie the silence truly was. With classes canceled for the moment, only a few members of the faculty and some of the students who lived on campus were still here -- alongside the gargoyles who had taken up residence on the rooftops and the sparkly pixies who flitted about the feet of everyone who stepped onto the lawn.

For Amber, an up-and-coming agent of W.H.O., Britain's premier paranormal investigation agency, all of this was like a perverse dream come true. W.H.O. was now of vital importance to the empire and Amber had seen her own stock rise as a result. Now, whether or not the economy will survive well enough for us to actually be able to spend our new budgets remains to be seen, she thought.

Amber reminded herself to focus on the job at hand and she resumed her watching of Jennifer Kale, who was now stepping into the office of Prof. Arlen Thomas, a load of books in her arms. Amber tried to avoid staring at Jennifer's behind, which was tightly encased in a pair of jeans, but found it difficult. Though she'd hidden her sexual leanings from her coworkers, Amber had found this particular case very hard on her -- because she had been assigned to follow both Jennifer Kale and John Blaze in hopes of locating the Ghost Rider.

And that meant long hours of watching Jennifer. 

Amber stepped up to the office door, careful to avoid the window. She could hear their voices inside and she took out a small device which, after being placed against the wall, amplified their voices in the receiver lodged in her left ear.

Jennifer's voice came through first, saying "...I hope these are the books you ordered. Bansi says he's added them to your account and you can pay at the end of the month like usual."

An older man's voice, obviously Prof. Thomas's, replied "Yes... These are perfect. Now that the myths of old are everyday occurences, I think these old books on folklore will come in quite handy. You're new, aren't you?"

"Yes, I've only been at Ancient Tomes for a little while. I just moved here from New York. Can I ask you that spear on your wall? It looks... unusual."

"Ah, you have quite an eye, young lady. That bloody thing is ancient. The University bought it for the department after much prompting from me. It came up at auction about five years ago. Supposedly, it was once wielded by one of the mythological Furies. It burns the hand of any man who holds it -- and I can verify that it does exactly that."

Amber stole a glance in through the window, seeing that Jennifer was standing before a mounted spear, the wooden shaft looking old and battle-damanged. The blade, however, looked new and very sharp. Jennifer had an odd expression on her face as she studied it and Amber wondered if it piqued her arcane curiosity. According to the files, Miss Kale was quite a magical adept.

Jennifer pursed her lips, saying "You've held it yourself?"

"Once or twice. There's a cold burn to it, very uncomfortable. I'm not the only man to feel it... But there may be some mind-over-matter explanation for it," Prof. Thomas replied.

Amber nearly jumped out of her skin as footsteps sounded behind her. She withdrew her listening device and stepped back, trying to look casual as she stared up at a nearby bulletin board.

"Who are you?" Amber stammered, trying to remember her training. Find out as much as you can before you're removed from the scene, she remembered.

The being inclined its head as if thinking of a reply. At length, it whispered "You may call me The Furious, for it is as good a name as any. And now, my inquisitive little friend, you should retire from this affair." The Furious lashed out with its left arm, the blow sending Amber flying down the hall. She landed hard against the wall, pain blotting out all her thoughts.

The Furious adjusted its cloak and continued on towards the office. Inside, Jennifer had turned to face the entrance, her senses on edge. Something magical was outside and, if her hearing wasn't playing tricks on her, somebody in the hall had just cried out in pain. "Professor, I think you should get yourself in a closet or something."

"What? But why on earth would --"

Jennifer threw up a magic shield just in time as the door burst inwards, shattering into a million pieces. Most of the shards of wood struck harmlessly against the shield, but a few got past it, narrowly missing Jennifer and the professor. 

The Furious stepped in, an air of dispassionate judgment radiating from it. It seemed less like a vengeful spirit and more like a weary parent come to scold a problem child. "You have something in your possession, professor. It does not belong in your hands. The Furious has come to claim it."

Jennifer moved forward, keeping herself between the Furious and Professor Thomas. "School's closed -- why don't you call back and make an appointment?" Jennifer channeled enough arcane energy to create a crackling effect around her hands, charging up for a eldritch burst if she needed it.

The Furious regarded her calmly, tilting its head to the side like a curious cat. "Jennifer Kale... How fitting," it said, with its androgynous voice, "that we should meet again -- did you hear, perhaps, if the one known as Vengeance still lives?"

Jennifer blinked in surprise, wondering how this stranger knew not only her name but seemed familiar with the being known as Vengeance. Inside, she felt Noble begin to stir, eager to be free. She sensed that he recognized something about this being and it clicked in her mind as well. She glanced towards the spear just as it flew off the wall and landed in the hands of the Furious. "You've got one of the Furies inside you! They've come back to Earth*!"

(*The three Furies chose human hosts for themselves in Ghost Rider vol. 2 #s 80-81, but were defeated.)

The Furious shook its head. "You are somewhat mistaken, Kale. I do not host one of the Furies within me." The Furious moved with superhuman speed, hurling the spear at Professor Thomas, who had stood gaping nearby. Even as Jennifer screamed, the spear pierced Thomas through the chest, driving him backwards. He died pinned to the wall, mystic flame leaping from his corpse towards the Furious. The being drank it in quickly, seeming to grown in power. "I host all the Furies."

For a moment, Jennifer's horror over the death of Prof. Thomas was forgotten as the full impact of that statement hit her. "All of them? But how?"

The Furious made a fist in the air. "Enough of this. I have done my deed and now it is time for me to depart. We can continue this discussion at a later date."

Flames began to appear over Jennifer's form. "I don't think so," she said. "Innocent blood's been spilled. And you know what that means...."

"Vengeance must be served!" roared the Ghost Rider, who appeared as the flesh finally burned away from Jennifer's skull and her bodily appearance altered to that of the masculine Noble Kale.

The Furious remained unperturbed, thought its voice raised an octave. "Noble, former ruler of Hell. Do you remember now why you fled from the abyss?"

 "I knew that the Furies were free and that you had chosen a new host..." Ghost Rider paused, noting that the rest was still blank. He now knew one more piece of the puzzle posed by Blackheart* about his departure from Hell, but he still lacked the full picture -- who had the Furies picked out to be their new host and why had Noble found it so distressing that he would flee Hell to find them? Even worse, how much time had he lost during the time he was wandering the Earth in confusion**? "It matters not --  you must be punished.." 

(*Back in our fifth issue. **See Peter Parker: Spider-Man # 93 and our first issue.)

The Furious ignored his threat, stating "You sent your little hunting dog, Vengeance, after us, hoping to find us before we located our preferred host. But he failed to stop our merging. And now we are free. And you cannot stop us."

A powerful blast flew forth from the Furious, striking Ghost Rider hard in the torso. It sent him to his knees, burning off much of the red and yellow leather that he wore. Bare bone shone through and pain blotted out all thought. "You... hurt me."

"You're lucky it didn't destroy you entirely. You gotta pick your fights with that one." Ghost Rider felt someone helping him up, but his mind was still too addled to place the voice.

Noble glanced around, seeing that the Furious was no longer present. "Where...?"

"Long gone. You've been out for a few minutes, at least."

Ghost Rider turned to face the man supporting him and he felt shock register in his mind.  "Caretaker!"

The old man in the broad-brimmed hat and dirty vest spat on the floor, nodding. "Yeah. It's me... And it's long past time you and I had a little chat, don'tcha think?"

"Blackheart said you could explain why I left Hell...."

"You already heard the first part of it, Noble... You knew that the Furies had escaped and, in the Book of Erebus, you found out that there are other family lines besides your own that bear curses. Turned out you knew the person that the Furies had set their eyes on. So you sent Vengeance after 'em while you tidied up in Hell and set Roxanne free. But when you made it to Earth, you were zonked out of your brain for awhile... A whole year. A year in which the Furies found their host and became the Furious."

"Who is it? Who is the host to the Furies?"

The immortal known as the Caretaker sighed and stepped back, allowing Ghost Rider to stand on his own two feet.  As protector of the Kale family tree, he had offered advice and counsel whenever they needed it. He had also given them terrible news from time to time and it never got any easier, not even after all these centuries. "Come away from here, Noble, before the authorities come. And then I'll spill the beans, but I promise you -- it's not going to be pretty."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Next Issue: "Road to Mandalay" continues as we reveal exactly who it is that serves as host to the Furious -- and longtime Ghost Rider readers will be shocked and tantalized, I promise! Plus: Dakimh probes the Black Mass barrier and finds out something that bodes ill for the future....

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS

Welcome to our first post-"Isles of Magick" issue. I wanted to keep the focus on GR and our cast of characters this issue, but you'll be seeing more of the full impact that IoM had on our little universe in the future.

The Furious is the first new villain I've introduced for the series and I hope it will become a favorite one. The "host" is someone familiar to longtime Ghost Rider fans, but this new incarnation is of a decidedly nastier persuasion!

See all of you next issue,

Barry