DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ghost Rider nor Marvel. These are not my characters.
Chapter 1-Walk Like An Angel, Talk Like An Angel
The Longbranch Saloon literally was only a couple minutes away from Johnny's house. He had made his way down the street, turned right on the next, and was there instantly. "Guess he didn't know where I was...", Johnny thought, given the 15 minute timeframe he was supposed to meet, before all Hell broke loose, supposedly. Weird, especially since he was dealing with the Devil himself. Wasn't he supposed to be omniscient or something? As Johnny considered these musings, he parked his bike, got a chain that wrapped around the back, and secured it, just in case anyone thought about riding off with it. This time of night, there was no telling who might be about, especially at or around a bar. Even one as dinky as this. Johnny gave a quick look at the enclosed "front porch" as he walked to the door. "I think there's a reason I haven't been here yet...", he muttered under his breath, not that it'd matter, since no one was out front to hear him. On second thought, wasn't too bad, as it probably wouldn't attract too much of the "wrong" crowd. He looked at the chalkboard that usually listed the hours and the menu, and realized the bar should have closed an hour ago. Yet it was still open. As he entered and looked around, he noticed it was a bar, and a grill. "Should've known that when they had a menu...", he realized, though his mind was elsewhere. Johnny thought it'd be good if he ordered something while he was there, but then quickly changed his mind. Didn't want to get too comfortable. Had to be on his toes given his proposed company. Besides himself, and the bartender, a creepy looking fellow who reminded Johnny of a middle-aged Clint Eastwood, there were two asshats sitting off in a corner, clearly more than a little drunk. Johnny sat down at the bar, and glanced around one more time, before turning to the bartender.
"So...is there a reason y'all are still open after closing time?", he asked.
"Those two over there were sloshed five minutes after they got here", the bartender answered. Not only did he look like Clint Eastwood from Hell, he had the same low and raspy voice too.
"I figured I'd do the decent thing and let them hang out, and sleep it off. No need for them to go tear-assing around town this late at night", he continued.
"Awfully generous of you", Johnny said with an air of skepticism.
"I'm the one who gave those boys their liquor, so I might as well look after them if I can," he countered. "Besides, they seem to be having a good time."
"Well sure", Johnny said back, still skeptical. "It's just most bar owners tell everybody to get out at a certain time, even if they're three sheets to the wind, and hope they don't kill anybody on the way home."
"Maybe...", the bartender continued. "Or maybe I'm trying to make a difference when it comes to all the accidents and tomfoolery that come from drinking, however small that may be."
"If you say so", Johnny said back, a pasted grin on his face. The whole situation reeked of something screwy. "But let's just say, that maybe, you were staying open after hours, because somebody had paid you to do so. You know, for a little private meeting of sorts. Well, as private as it could be with a couple of soaks hanging around. Not that they'd pay attention to any seedy business anyway. Probably why you kept the liquor coming, I reckon". Johnny was picking the bartender's brain, to see if he could figure out what was really going on.
"You seem to be a little paranoid, Son", the bartender scoffed. "If I knew any better, I'd tell you to get out right now, as the last thing I need to do is give you any booze. Y'all tend to go off on a tangent if you get pumped with any liquor."
"But then things wouldn't be going according to plan if you told me to leave, now would they?", Johnny shot back. "So don't worry, I'll be a good little boy, and just have a glass of agua or two, because in addition to being "paranoid", I'm more than a little boring."
The bartender squinted his eyes, confused by Johnny's request.
"Come on man, I'm serious", Johnny insisted. He eyed a red-colored skull cup on the shelf behind the tender. "That skull cup there, pour me up some in that."
The bartender looked back behind him at the cup in question, then turned back to Johnny, a "What the fuck?" look on his face.
"Oh yeah, I'm a triple threat. Not only am I paranoid and boring, but also a little odd", Johnny beamed, a shit-eating grin on his face as he relished messing with the bartender. "A P.O.B, if you will. So how about it, eh? You'll rest easy when you finally close down, knowing you didn't set three drunks loose on our fair city."
The bartender finally broke his gaze away from Johnny, got the cup off the shelf, and went to the tap to fill it up. He came back and set it in front of Johnny, and stepped back as if preparing for what was next.
"Alright!", Johnny smiled, taking the cup and giving it a sip. He looked up from it, and noticed the bartender giving him the incredulous look again. "If you must know, I have a problem with my internal body temperature. Hot flashes and all that."
"If you say so, Son", the tender replied. He was obviously perplexed by his wacky customer.
"You got a name, friend?", Johnny asked. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be in the ballpark of something like Eastwood, now would it?", he asked with a smirk.
"You can call me Mr. Black", the bartender answered.
"Really?" Johnny gave Mr. Black the once over, realizing the color of his attire. "Of course it is."
Mr. Black smirked at the slight dig.
"Sorry about that interrogation I put you through. I feel being cautious helps me stick around longer, if you know what I mean", Johnny apologized.
"No worries. I imagine it serves you well." Mr. Black reassured him.
"Most of the time." Johnny shot back.
"So who's the joker, Erron?", a delicate, yet firm voice inquired from behind Johnny.
Johnny turned around, and looked to see who the newcomer was. He was shocked to see a young woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties. Gorgeous, with a slim yet curvy figure, accentuated by her jet black dress with straps that came up right below her shoulders, exposing them. Her hair was an autumny red, frizzy, but not too crazy. But what struck Johnny the most was her eyes, soft, yet piercing at the same time, a dazzling emerald in color. She stood with her hands to her hips, a beaming confidence about her that seemed to say "Here I am!".
"I don't know, Sugar", Erron Black answered. "Hadn't got to that point yet."
The woman walked towards Johnny, sliding up next to him as she took a seat at the bar. "So, you got a name? Or should I call you "Pob"?", she teased with a sly grin.
"Uh...", Johnny had to shake himself from the daze brought on by the woman's beauty. "Johnny Blaze."
"Johnny Blaze", she repeated. "I'm Lilith", she said, extending her hand in greeting.
Johnny took her hand and gave it a small shake. For a moment, his sense of danger had left him.
