Chapter 13: Broken Dreams

A/N: Not my best work, but this needed to be written. I really hate flashback stuff so apologies if this feels rushed. It's also a bit longer than normal chapters, so it might come off as rushed and a slog at the same time. Double apologies are in order!

I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from writing this whatsoever. The Harry Potter franchise is the property of Warner Brother's and J.K Rowling.

Incidentally, I don't own any of the Marvel Comics characters mentioned/hinted at here like Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, Stephen Strange, etc. These characters are the sole property of Disney. If I did own them, however, Chip Zdarsky would be writing all of the comics.

"I need backup on one-hundred and third street! A guy with a flaming head just sped by and blew up two cars!"

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

March 1988. Hell's Kitchen, New York City.

It started here, then, the first big change in his life. Not some silly school dance with Sally Anne in seventh grade, or acing his science quiz, it was here in a boring gray office. The lifeless eyes of his father staring up at him from the photo's taken of his body.

"Son," the coroner said from behind his desk, a younger man, he looked nervous to even say what came next, "can - can you confirm whether or not this is your father?"

What a stupid question. Johnny ignored it. He'd been in the audience, he'd seen it happen. The motorcycle exploded, what little they could recover was enough. Why was he even here?

The door burst open then, just as the coroner looked like he was about to ask again.

It was Crash, and Johnny's spirits lifted momentarily. Mona and James followed him in. They didn't say a word to the coroner as he sputtered at the interruption, they just rushed towards him, pairs of arms wrapping around him in a group hug. He hadn't cried when his father crashed and burned, hadn't even shed a tear up until now...

Johnny burst into tears as soon as they hugged him. Sweet words were whispered into his ears, telling him that he wouldn't be alone as long as they were around.

He tried to believe it.

April 1988. Hell's Kitchen, New York City.

"What do you mean we can't adopt him?" Crash's voice was brimming with barely held back anger. "We're all he has left!"

Another office, this one with a little bit more color, though not by much. This social worker had slicked back hair, and a shifty look about him. He was noticeably uncomfortable the entire time talking to them.

Johnny sat beside James, and they both looked on in confusion as the social worker seemed to lose patience.

"Mr. Simpson," he said politely, "I'm afraid that it just doesn't work like that. The boy's father left nothing in his will dictating that Johnathan should be adopted by a specific person in the event of his death, and therefore, the city of New York can't just hand the boy over to you." The social worker looked, if anything, a little smug at this now.

Crash was enraged. "But-"

Mona reached out, grabbed his arm, and shook her head sadly, as if she already knew this would happen. She then looked at the social worker. "Would we be allowed to visit him?"

The smug man shrugged. "That would have to be worked out with his foster parent, we're still looking for applicants, you see. If you'd like, however, when we do decide on one, I'd be happy to contact you with their name."

Mona nodded, still having a vice grip on Crash's arm. "That would be great, thank you."

The social worker smiled politely, but Johnny knew it was false. "Of course, Mrs. Simpson."

That was it then, he'd have to stay at the boy's home until they stuck him with a stranger to house him. James looked sad, but it was nothing compared to the crushed expression on Crash's face. They took Johnny out of the office for a final few words, and he caught Crash muttering to Mona.

"I just thought for this one time, they'd make an exception, that it'd work out for us." He said.

Mona shook her head sadly, understanding what Crash could not initially. "There are no exceptions for us, honey, they were never going to let us walk out of here with him, never us. He'll be sent over to another family that looks like him, somewhere that fits their standards." She said the last few words harshly, a crack in her soft demeanor.

"It's not fair," Crash said harshly.

"I know, baby, I know." Mona replied.

They comforted Johnny after, saying they'd do whatever it took to stay in contact with him.

He didn't understand their words then, he was too young at the time, it would be a few years later when he would.

June 1988. Washington Heights, New York City.

"Que lo que, Johnny!"

He put on a smile. "Not much, Rafael."

Rows of town houses were lined with kids playing. School was out for the summer, and everyone was taking full advantage. New York made them feel it too, sweltering hot and the strong smell of garbage overheating ever present. Still, kids set up small soccer games, basketball, with what little space they had, using driveways on occasion.

Johnny liked the friends he'd made here, if nothing else.

Rafael grinned widely back. "You up for a game of baseball? Might get a group of us and go over to the diamond soon." Luis, Ramon, Alexis and Victor stood behind the boy, wooden bats in hand, looking eager.

Johnny turned to look back at his house. It was the exact same as every other in his neighborhood, but it loomed over him, like it was watching. A raven landed on its roof, peering down at Johnny.

"I don't know," he said sadly, "I'd have to ask Mr. Morgan."

Ramon kissed his teeth, sending his locs swinging as he shook his head. "Ese mamahuevo nos odia, ¡nunca dejará que Johnny venga!"

Rafael punched him hard on the shoulder. "¡No digas eso de su papá, idiota!"

Johnny laughed a little. "No, it's okay, he's not wrong. And Mr. Morgan is not my dad."

Both boys looked shocked.

"You can speak Spanish?" Rafael asked.

He shrugged. "I travelled a lot with my dad - my real dad, in our circus group, before he got famous, a lot of the other people working there were almost all from Mexico and Chile."

"You guys had to be one of the only circus groups in America though, it's not that popular anymore." Victor said.

"Hey, that's pretty cool, Johnny!" Alexis said excitedly. "I've never met someone from a circus before!"

Feeling something like hope thrum through him, he quickly spoke. "You know, I'll go ask for permission right now, I'll grab my bat and gear and make it look like I was about to leave anyway, maybe that'll just make him shrug and let me go!"

The other boys cheered, and Johnny shot off towards his door. Once inside, he immediately started for the stairs, but a gravelly and annoyed voice greeted him.

"The fuck're you goin'?"

Johnny's heart dropped, and he stepped back down to look at his foster father. Mr. Morgan was a savage man, with messy maroon colored hair, and light stubble. He had a mean face, with an ugly scowl usually plastered on it to match. He was sitting back on his recliner, a near empty bear bottle in hand and a frown on his face.

"Boy," he said gruffly, "are you deaf? I asked you where you were goin'."

"O-out with friends," Johnny stuttered out quickly, "to play baseball."

Mr. Morgan's eyes narrowed harshly, "not with those Dominican boys you aren't," he spat, "they're too rowdy, god knows why I even still live here near em'."

Johnny rather thought the boys were a lot of fun to hang out with, and their parents were mostly nice, unlike Mr. Morgan.

"Well, I just - school's out so I thought I'd play with my friends-" He tried to say.

"Those boys aren't your friends," Morgan snarled, "nobody likes you Johnny, not truly." An evil glint was in his eye. His words were cruel, but his scowl shifted into a smirk. "You just drag em' down, I bet, always needing my permission, but never getting it."

Now, he could no longer take it. "And whose fault is that!?" He cried, and it was a fatal mistake. Morgan shot up out of his seat, beer discarded to the floor. The only light from the window illuminating perfectly his waist as he slipped his belt off smoothly.

"Remember last time you took that tone with me, Johnathan?" Morgan said dangerously. "I got you to win Jennifer back, and that didn't happen. As far as I'm concerned, you're useless to me now. You should be grateful I still even let you live here!"

With every other word he got closer, until he was towering over Johnny, backing him into the door. His free hand flipped the lock with ease.

"Get upstairs," he whispered, and Johnny knew to obey.

September 1988. Queens, New York City.

"Thank you so much for the tickets, Mr. Simpson."

Mr. Morgan's voice was so falsely polite, Johnny hated it.

But Crash smiled back equally as fake. "It's my pleasure, Robert."

Morgan's façade faltered for just a moment. Johnny knew he hated being called by his birth name, preferred Bobby over it. Johnny felt a sudden surge of admiration for Crash. He was in his stunt gear, they'd gotten VIP tickets.

"I still can't believe you're performing at Citi field! That I'm at Citi field!" Johnny said excitedly.

This time, Crash's grin was genuine. "Well, I know how much you love the Mets, Johnny." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then a man rushed up to Crash and whispered something in his ear. Crash turned back to Johnny. "It's showtime, go grab your seats!" He walked off, and Johnny's excitement couldn't even be dampened by the rough hand on his shoulder, Mr. Morgan guiding him towards through a hallway and then a curtain to find their seats, muttering something about how much he hated the Mets.

They got to their seats, right next to Mona and James. They both smiled at him, and it looked like Mona was about to speak, but the roar of the crown drowned out anything she could have said as Crash went through the curtain. A bright white suit with double red stripes down the middle.

The announcer was going crazy, shouting himself hoarse to introduce Crash.

A huge pool of alligators was before Crash, swimming around menacingly. He mounted his bike, and revved the engine. He flashed the crowd a grin, and then took off. Johnny's heart was in his throat like it always was when he watched Crash or his father attempt a jump, and like always, he landed it without a problem. The crowd screamed in joy, and Crash showboated. Johnny cheered along, but when he looked at Mr. Morgan, his foster father's face was murderous, a look of pure hatred in his eyes. He was jealous of Crash's success, Johnny'd always known that, but the look on Morgan's face was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

Morgan looked over at Johnny, and though the crowd was still deafening, Johnny heard him just fine.

"Let's go. Now."

Johnny struggled against the vice grip Mr. Morgan had on his arm. It was so strong that he was sure it'd leave a bruise.

"Walk faster, boy." Morgan demanded, but he was practically dragging Johnny along anyway.

They passed almost unnoticed by the crowd milling out of the building, having gotten a head start, they were left alone on the way to the car. A raven watched on from a lamppost.

"Hey!"

Johnny turned his head, and relief flooded through him, it was Crash, marching angrily towards him. Mona and James trailed along a little bit behind.

"You let go of him right fucking now!"

Morgan turned too now, looking, if possible, even more angrier than before. "The hell you just say to me?" He yelled back.

"I said, let him go you fucking asshole!"

Crash was still in his gear, minus the helmet, but looked ready for a fight.

"Don't think I have to listen to you, Simpson," Morgan said, "I'm taking my boy, and we're leavin'"

"He's not your boy," Crash responded, stepping closer.

"Excuse me?" Morgan said dangerously. There was a crowd milling around them, no doubt initially wanting to get an autograph, but now transfixed by the brewing fight unfolding before them. "I have more of a claim on him then you, Simpson." Morgan continued. The way he said it bothered Johnny so much then, as if there was something wrong with Crash.

But Crash did not seem enraged by the way Morgan said it, in fact, he looked as if he'd expected it.

"You're a child beating piece of trash," Crash said, "I've seen the way Johnny looks when you call for him at our house when you come over, the fear in his eyes, I won't take it any longer."

Johnny's eyes widened, he thought he'd kept it well hidden...

"I don't got any idea of what you're talkin' about." Morgan grit out, fist clenched painfully now around Johnny's arm.

Crash eyed Johnny for a moment, before turning back to Morgan. "Let the boy go, Robert, or I'll make you."

"Like hell you will!" Morgan yelled, letting go of Johnny's arm and shoving him back with such force that Johnny spun out and smacked his head on the pavement. He saw stars, and vaguely heard the crowd gasp. There was a yell, and the sounding of someone being punched, before he was being helped up by Mona. When his vision cleared, he saw Crash holding Morgan in a headlock as security rushed in. When Crash saw the guards, he looked afraid for a second, but they went straight for Morgan as Crash let him go, pushing him to the ground and cuffing him.

"We saw the whole thing, sir," one of them said, "we'll get him sorted, don't you worry about that."

Mona was trying to calm him, and someone rushed off to call an ambulance.

Before he passed out, Johnny felt a strong surge of hope for the first time since his father died.

November 11th, 1992. Harlem, New YorkCity.

"Where are we going?"

He hated how his voice sounded so whiny. It cracked awkwardly and it felt like he never had control over it.

James just laughed and kept walking. "If I tell you, it'll ruin everything."

Sometimes, he hated his brother. If anyone bothered James at school, Johnny was right there to dislocate their nose, but the jerk could really bring it on himself most of the time. Snarky and sarcastic, a teasing grin, all very punchable features.

They walked through Harlem, now decently far from their condo. A homeless mat sat on a sidewalk corner, when they passed by, he looked up and smiled at Johnny. A large and unkempt grey beard with one eye covered by a patch. Johnny fished out a twenty from his wallet and gave it to the man.

"Thank you, young man," he said.

"No problem," Johnny replied as they kept going.

"I thought you were saving up for tickets to the Royal Rumble?" James asked.

Johnny shrugged. "You know dad doesn't mind covering the rest. It's really his money in the first place, I don't get the point of an allowance when we can just ask for whatever we want anyway." He said.

"You gonna complain?"

"Nope."

James laughed again. "Good."

They passed by a few more shops. Cars went back and forth on the street, and there were a few others going about the day on the sidewalk. It was when they passed a barber shop that Johnny's initial annoyance returned.

"Where's Tyreese?" He said, looking at the empty shop. Maureen wasn't there either.

"Probably stepped out for lunch or something," James responded with a shrug, "C'mon, we're almost there."

He narrowed his eyes at James' back. His brother was a terrible liar.

Johnny thought it'd be hard adjusting to having a family at first. After all, it was only ever him as his father growing up, his biological mother having left with his baby sister a few months after he was born. But he fit right in with the Simpsons. He could hardly remember feeling this loved, this cherished. They passed by a few more areas he recognized.

"Hey!" He said after a moment. "We're going to the garage, aren't we?"

In the four years since being adopted by the Simpsons, a legal process that was long and arduous as they were hampered at every step of the way due to their skin color. After Mr. Morgan had given him a concussion by shoving him onto the pavement those years ago, social workers were hard pressed to deny them now, though they did their best. Nowadays, Johnny spent a large amount of his time learning about vehicles, specifically, how they worked. For his age, he could fix a good amount of the everyday problems on a car or bike.

James didn't respond, which, really, was all the answer he needed.

When they did arrive, and Johnny was right, the garage was closed. That was weird, as it was a Wednesday. James walked up to the big garage door, and knocked. It started to open, whirring to life at his touch. It made Johnny jump a little, and James snickered.

"Shut up," he told him, but any further insult was halted by the cheer that greeted him once the door was open.

Everyone he knew was there; Crash, Mona, Rafael, Tyreese, Maureen, Joey, Luis, Victor, Alexis. All his old friends. He didn't know many people, it seemed. Some of the workers were there too. People from Crash's setup crew.

"Happy birthday, Johnny!" They all yelled, big smiles on everyone's face.

He was hugged tightly by Crash and Mona, clapped on the back hard by Tyreese, and Maureen gifted him with a cool looking leather jacket that was just his size.

It was an overwhelming love, he fought the urge to cry.

"We love you, Johnny." Mona said, guiding him over to a seat at a table set up in the middle of the garage. A large red velvet cake was there, with two numbered candles, a one and a four.

They all started singing, and while it was cheesy, he couldn't bring himself to care about that. What mattered was that the people that loved him were here.

"Noah," Crash said to a worker once the singing stopped, and Johnny had blown out the candles, "bring me a big knife for this, would you?"

Tyreese turned on the radio sitting on top of one of the workbenches. Jazz filtered through it, making the place come alive. Everyone was chatting as Noah, a skinny, pale young man brought in a knife for the cake.

Crash began cutting slices for the cake, the first, and biggest, going to Johnny. "I got something for you," he said, handing out more slices on plates, "don't think we didn't. Just saving it for later."

His mind began racing with ideas of what Crash could have possibly given him.

"Did you make a wish?" James asked coming up to him for his slice, all sense of being cocky gone, he was still a year younger after all.

"Nah," he said, smiling. He had everything he could have ever wanted right here.

The party went on nicely. Tyreese and Maureen eventually had to return to their barber shop, but they both gave Johnny a hug before leaving.

He wandered around, mostly hanging with his friends, but after coming back from using the washroom, they had all seemingly disappeared. The adults were still there, all still talking amongst themselves.

"Your friends went outside," a voice with a funny accent said. Johnny turned to see a worker with an untouched slice of cake in his hand smiling down at him. He was imposing, and though there was a friendly smile on his face, his demeanor was anything but. The man seemed to loom over Johnny. "Here, a gift."

He was clean, too clean to be someone who worked in a mechanic shop. He had cleanly cut black hair and a bit of stubble, his dark eyes danced playfully. His uniform had no stains on them, and Johnny knew oil didn't exactly come out easy. Still, he accepted the man's outstretched hand and felt paper touch his own. It was a twenty dollar bill.

"Er, thanks," Johnny said awkwardly, he didn't even know the man's name.

The man smiled. "You're quite welcome," he said, "happy birthday, Johnathan." He then suddenly walked to the door, nobody else noticed him as he went, nor did they when he dumped his still uneaten cake into the trash.

Thoroughly weirded out, he made to leave as well to find his friends, when he was stopped by Crash. "Hold on, Johnny, still gotta give you your gift."

Johnny stuffed the twenty into his pocket and followed Crash into another separate room. A bike was there, small, but good for his size. "It's the newest model, Yamaha's really steppin' it up lately, got it custom made just for you."

He could not believe his eyes. Something Mona tried her best to get him from riding, Crash had finally decided to buy for him. Speaking of which, he turned to see that Mona had followed them. She had a smile on her face, though there was a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"It was only a matter of time," she said, "if I kept delaying it, you'd only resent me for it. So here we are."

Johnny didn't know what to say, how to explain to her that he could never resent any of them. They'd taken him in, given him a family. That was nothing compared to a bike.

May 1993, Upstate New York.

It was his fault.

In the months since his fourteenth birthday, they moved to Upstate New York, and all the pleasures that came with that. A large lodge with more space than they knew what to do with included. Perfect area to mess around on his bike. They were mostly secluded, the nearest neighbor was a ten minute drive down the road. It was exactly what Mona feared.

They bought a ramp, he and James. Time spent at the lodge was often boring, they had to figure out ways to pass the time. So the last time they went into the city, they purchased a lot of silly things. He and James had discussed eventually moving back into the city when they were older on some nights. James wanted to return to Harlem to help the community after working with Crash a bit to earn some money, and Johnny just wanted to be anywhere but here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe even travel a bit.

A hill in their backyard was the perfect place for it. Not too big, so even if they messed up the fall wouldn't kill them.

He didn't know if it was due to his tinkering on the bike, or just some other problem nobody caught, but it'd become one of his greatest mistakes to jump that ramp.

The bike had started smoking before he even got to the ramp.

James noticed it first, coming from the back wheel as he sat behind him on the bike.

"Johnny!" His panicked voice yelled over the roar of the engine. "The bike's on fire!"

But he hadn't heard it properly at first, maybe if he had, it'd gone differently.

"The bikes on fire!"

James had jumped off the bike, but it was too late for Johnny. The steering caught fire, the engine too. Could feel the rubber from his gloves melting into his hand, his jeans into his legs.

She was sitting under the shade, a bright and sunny day. A glass of lemonade in hand, Crash was out for the day.

It was his fault.

He jumped off mid air, the pain of hitting the ground meaningless to him, even if it did feel like he'd broken his arm. Johnny nearly went deaf with the explosion that sounded off a second later. She'd been facing away from them, no clue what her two idiot sons were planning.

She never wanted him to join up with Crash, to follow in his footsteps. It's what got his father killed. When he turned to look back, the tree she was under was in half, shrapnel lay every where, blood stained the grass around the smoky center. There was hardly a body left at all.

And it was all his fault.

June 1993. Harlem, New York City.

The funeral was somber. Nice words were said, powerful words, even, but they were empty to him. It'd been his fault, entirely his own. James was crying into Crash's chest. Maureen and Tyreese were there too, looking crushed. But all he could think the entire time, was how he did not belong here, how he'd taken this wonderful woman from their lives.

He didn't deserve to even be there, but a strong hand grasped his shoulder, it was Crash, James still clinging to him. His eyes were filled with so much pain and sorrow, but still he tugged Johnny into a one armed hug anyway.

"I love you boys," he said quietly as they lowered her into the grave.

Johnny cried.

February 1994. Upstate New York .

Over a year on from Mona's death, and their lives were still hardly back on track. Crash was on tour of Europe with James, but they were due back sometime later today. Johnny never went, preferring to bury himself in his schoolwork. Conjugating words in Spanish and writing essay's on why Loki tricked Baldur's brother to shoot him with a mistletoe arrow weren't going to write themselves after all.

Crash had wanted Johnny to join him in his work, go on the road. That life might have suited Johnny then, but nowadays it was hard enough to even look at a motorcycle in general. He had no need of one at the moment anyway, couldn't drive legally. It didn't stop him then, but it should have. He had terrible thoughts every moment now, whenever Crash looked at him sadly, and James hardly spoke at all anymore.

Johnny didn't feel resented, or hated for what happened to Mona. They should've hated him, a treacherous part of his mind said, he'd taken her from them. Johnny wished they'd be mad at him, rage at him, something.

Anything would feel better than the crushing emptiness he felt every day.

Keys jingled and found their way into the front door lock - he was studying in the living room - and a sullen James entered with a stunned looking Crash following behind.

"What happened?" He asked, worried. Had crash nearly died again? A little bit of leftover shock from a close call?

James shook his head, looking like he was either going to start crying or start screaming in rage.

"I..." Crash tried to say, stopped himself, and then swallowed harshly. "I have cancer."

April 1994. Greenwich Village, New York City.

"Kid, I don't have any fuckin' books like that in my store, and don't come around here askin' again!"

Johnny scowled as he was ushered out of the small shop on the corner of the street. So much for the 'Magik Book Emporium'. He eyed the giant mansion as he passed by Bleecker street. He'd thought about going in there, but he really had no idea about what was inside, therefore, it didn't matter to him. Probably some rich prick, anyway.

He'd been in a sort of manic state as of late. James was handling all the affairs of Crash's will, being there for their father, both of them spending time at home. Whereas he? He was out on the streets, looking for anything that could help. They had a lot of money, but even a lot of money couldn't beat a brain tumor. He hailed a cab driving by, and got inside.

"Where you headin', son?" The driver asked politely.

"Upstate," Johnny responded. "Big red and black lodge on the outskirts of the city, you can't miss it."

The driver narrowed his eyes at him from the rearview mirror.

"You got enough cash for that, kid?" He asked suspiciously.

A flash of annoyance went through him, before Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of twenty's.

The cab driver chuckled. "Well, shit, you like, Tony Stark's son or somethin'?"

"Or something," Johnny responded.

When he got home, his mind was already running through a number of different stores in the city left to check, maybe even looking over in Delaware. James was in the kitchen, papers spread out before him. Though he was younger than Johnny, he was far smarter, far more driven. His cockiness was still there, but not so much these days.

Crash was on the phone, talking to the lawyers.

"-thank you again, Mr. Nelson, I can't tell you how much this means to me, you and Mr. Murdock going out of your way to help us like this, even if it isn't your area of expertise." He paused as the man on the other line said something, before a blank expression came over his face. "Yes, I'm sorry too. Thank you. Bye."

When he hung up, Crash looked over to the front door and saw Johnny.

"Where've you been, Johnny?" He asked curiously.

"Out in the slums looking for mystical books," James muttered, and then Crash smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Don't forget where we came from," he told his son, before turning back to Johnny, "don't be wasting your time on that stuff, nothing good'll come from it. Stay here more, with whatever... whatever time we have left together."

He wanted to, he desperately wanted to, but he'd already lost a father before, Johnny couldn't lose another one. Tomorrow, he'd go out again searching, and was determined to find a solution.

It happened easier than he expected. Granted, nothing about the search had been easy, but when he told himself that last night, Johnny didn't expect it to actually happen.

A store with an odd name that he didn't even no how to pronounce, and a sign that said 'No-Maj's Welcome!'. He had no idea what that meant, but he entered anyway. A squat man was behind the counter to his right, and who jumped when Johnny entered. There was a light above Johnny's head that flashed green upon his entrance, and the shop keep looked relieved.

"What can I do for you, my boy?" He asked politely, a smile on his face. He had a thin moustache, and slicked back hair.

"Uh," he began, very much weirded out by the entire store's atmosphere. He hated Greenwich Village. "I'm looking for a book."

The man laughed. "Well, of course, but could you be a little more specific?"

There was no other real way to go about it other than just coming right out and saying it. "You got any books on the occult? I heard from someone a while back that something like that could help with curing cancer, and I'm a little desperate." It was in a back alley, and that 'someone' was a vaguely suspicious looking man in a robe, so yes, desperate indeed.

The shop keep thought for a moment. "Cancer..." he said under his breath, though Johnny heard him just fine, "yes, yes, cancer, of course." The man started to reach for his suit pocket, but then stopped, shook his head, and walked around the counter, seemingly thinking better of it.

"Come with me, young man."

He led Johnny down the very large amount of rows of books lining the shop, far longer than it looked like it could hold from outside the shop, until finally they stopped at one of the last few bookshelves.

"How to Train a Thestral, no... Hiring Heliopaths, definitely not... ah, yes, here we go!"

The man proceeded to take out and hand the dustiest book that Johnny had ever seen. It was a beige color, and felt leathery. It had no title, or any note on the back.

"Uhm," he said, "this is it?"

The shop keep nodded happily. "Indeed, sir! This book will help you summon spirits both benevolent and malevolent in nature, and many more different kinds. I procured it on my travels in the mountains of Canada, and while I do not know it's true origin, I can assure you, it does work."

Benevolent meant good, right? Whatever, he'd buy it, wouldn't be the first time an assured good book didn't help, what was one more disappointment?

He thanked the man, and then walked back to the register to pay. Johnny noticed large gold, silver and brown coins that he'd never seen before in the register amongst other bills he recognized. God, he hated Greenwich Village.

When he left, Johnny had wished he'd turned around to look back at the store. It would have saved him the shock from when he'd tried to return the book in two weeks. Really, he should have never bought it at all, but it hardly mattered now.

The store was gone, as if it'd never been there at all.

May 1994. Upstate New York.

"I am sorry, Johnathan Blaze, but believe me, what you seek is not worth the sacrifice you must make. Do not attempt to search further, you will not like what you find."

With a flash of blue light, the spirit was gone.

He let out a yell, and punched his wall. The book nearly stepped on where it lay in the middle of his bedroom floor.

The first spirit he'd been able to contact, a supposedly helpful that had even been human before, had instead told him to give up. The book worked alright, but if the rest of it was going to be like this, he was going to return it.

The door to his room opened, and James stepped in.

"Are you okay? Why are you yelling?" He asked in an annoyed tone, before looking down at the book. His eyes went from tired to enraged in a second. "What is that shit, Johnny? I thought dad said to just leave it alone!"

"It's nothing," Johnny answered immediately, moving to pick it up, but James was too quick, and snatched it away.

He read a bit, his expression becoming more and more mad as the seconds wore on. "Summoning spirits, Johnny? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you actually believe this shit will work? Why can't you just spend time with us, with him? In less than like six months he'll be dead, and no amount of suspicious books will change that! So just accept it and move on!" James threw the book to the ground, looking very much like he wanted to punch Johnny. Instead, he walked out and slammed the door behind him. Well, at least one other person in this house hated him. He just wished that Crash didn't come around as well to see what the commotion was about, unless he already heard the yelling, of course.

Johnny looked at the book, and saw the page it had opened on after James had thrown it. It was an entry about how to summon the spirit Mephisto. Several mentions about his ability to grant any wish, a great deal maker that ruled over his own realm...

It was worth a shot.

June 1994. Upstate New York.

Wind rushed throughout the room, a deafening screech filled his ears, and Johnny was just glad he did this when nobody was home.

A pentagram was on the floor, complete with lit candles that remained stubbornly alight despite the gusts of wind. He was in the center on his knees, jacket taken off and arms outstretched. Johnny recited the Latin words, over and over again. The wind grew stronger, the screeching, louder, and finally, a tear in reality itself started to form from thin air in front of him.

A portal of inexplicable shape and color formed as the tear grew wider and wider.

Until finally, everything stopped. The noise, the wind, everything but the portal went away. It was eerily silent.

And then a man stepped through.

Johnny called him a man, but his presence, his... aura, made him feel like anything but.

Black hair, a charcoal suit and a grin greeted him. He'd seen this face before, at his fourteenth birthday.

"Hello, Johnathan," the man said, "it's been quite some time since I've last seen you, hasn't it?"

Whatever he expected, it wasn't this. The book depicted a very devil-like look, red skin and horns. But this man, though Johnny knew he wasn't, looked human.

"I've been watching over you Johnathan," he continued, as Johnny still could not find the strength to speak just yet, "I know your every desire, I know what you have called me here for."

"Then," Johnny said, having to clear his throat after speaking, "then can you do it? Can you cure my father?"

Mephisto's grin grew wider. "But of course I can," he said, but it requires payment."

Johnny knew this, it had said as much in the book. "What do I have to give you? I'll do anything." He said desperately.

The man's eyes flashed dangerously. "Anything?"

Three days later, after a routine checkup at the doctor's, an exuberant Crash returned home with a stunned looking James. Johnny had known then, that he had succeeded.

"Johnny!" His foster father, called, running to his room and opening the door. "Johnny, you won't believe it!"

"What?" He said, feigning ignorance. "Is everything alright?"

" 'Alright'?" Crash practically shouted. "It's more than that, Johnny, my cancer's gone! I went in for a checkup, and the doctor looked completely shocked when he noted that the tumor was nonexistent!"

Johnny shot out of his seat. "It's just disappeared? How is that even possible?"

Crash grinned widely at him. "That's what the doctor's can't seem to figure out either! They've asked me to come back in when I'm available - which I've agreed to - so they can run some tests, but I'm cancer free!"

He grabbed Johnny, pulling him into a bone crushing hug, that Johnny returned gladly.

It worked. He'd done it. Crash was alive, with no disease to threaten his life.

Johnny looked over Crash's shoulder, and saw James staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

He didn't care, what was done was done, and Johnny'd do it again if he had to. The cost didn't matter.

Even if he had to sell his soul for it.

August 1994. Upstate New York.

The decision to return to stunt jumping barely two months after being cancer free was one met with a general outcry from Johnny and James. The two brothers had barely spoken in that time, but on this particular matter, they were united.

"Dad," James had begged one night, "I just don't see why you'd want to go back so soon, I mean, the summer's almost over, can't you wait until the new year?"

They were in the living room, Crash, pacing around and shaking his head the entire time.

"Yeah," Johnny tried, "we spent these last few months trying to accept the diagnosis, and now suddenly you're cured, and you want to go on a tour right away?"

"Boys, boys," Crash said, ceasing his pacing, "it's the only thing I've ever known, without it, what am I?"

"Our father," Johnny said pleadingly, and Crash smiled, one that made Johnny know he wouldn't change his mind.

"I love you guys, but I have to do this."

It still didn't make sense, even today. What drove him to want to return so badly? All he ever said was that it he needed to go back like an addict needed a fix, and maybe that's all it was in the end. He was addicted to the thrill.

September 1994. Citi Field, Queens, New York City.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you, the return of a daredevil legend! He's the man who kicked cancer's ass, please give it up for Crash Simpson!"

It was the loudest reaction Johnny had ever heard given to his dad. The arena practically thundered their approval at his entrance.

Twenty-six cars was the challenge. To successfully jump over them meant setting a world record.

They should have argued harder against it, he and James, maybe it would have gone down differently. Or maybe, this is how it was always going to go.

It started off standard. Crash showboated to the crowd, and they cheered. There was no speech about how grateful he was to be there, no tears. He mounted his bike, the engine roared to life, and then he was off.

No faulty bike parts, or poorly placed ramp. The jump was just impossible. Nobody expected Crash to lose a lot of air around the twenty-first car, and plummet face first into the twenty-fourth one. The explosion was small, only setting off more from a few of the other cars nearby in line. The screams in the air, he'd never forget them.

By one of the entrance tunnels, he saw Mephisto, and the playful grin as he waved at Johnny convinced him then that he really was the devil.

He shot out of his seat, ignoring James' shouts after him. He hadn't even looked at his brother's reaction. All that mattered to him now, was getting his hands on Mephisto. Rage filled him as he slipped through the crowd, resisting the urge to shove them aside. Once he reached the tunnel, he was breaking out into a full on sprint. Running past medical officials as they rushed the opposite way back into the arena.

Johnny burst out the entrance, and watched as Mephisto walked leisurely into a nearby alley. He chased after him, making his way into the alley as well, and noting that it was a dead end.

"I've come to collect, Johnathan." The devil said.

"You lied!"

Mephisto looked almost offended.

"I never once lied to you, Johnathan, I held up my end of our bargain."

Johnny tried to punch him, but it just went straight through him, like he wasn't even there.

"W-what fucking difference does it make if he dies two months later?" He sputtered, turning around to face him.

The devil looked bored. "How soon he died after I took away his cancer is of no concern to m-"

"Oh that's fucking bullshit!"

His eyes flared dangerously, and though he had an amused grin on his face, his malicious words showed no humor.

"You promised me your soul in exchange for your father to be cured of his cancer. I have delivered, have I not? I do not care that he has passed away recently anyway. It is time to pay up, Johnathan Blaze."

Fuck, what could he do? Mephisto was basically a god to him, and could do whatever he wanted to Johnny should he try to fight him. His mind raced with a possible solution, but dread was building up as he realized there was none. He was going to lose his soul.

Mephisto must have seen this realization dawn on Johnny's face, for he smiled. "I have watched you for so long, Johnathan, it is so good to finally claim your soul."

"No!"

The devil's cocky expression faltered for just a moment.

James walked around the corner, into the alleyway. Johnny's heart filled up with love for his brother, but also fear for what would happen next.

"I don't fully understand what's going on here," he said, looking at Johnny and the devil, "but if you're planning on hurting my brother, I won't let you!"

"How... sweet." The devil practically snarled, his form shifted, his skin turned red and horns started to grow. He grimaced.

"J-James, just go - please just go." Johnny begged.

"No!" James shouted. "You're my brother, and I love you, man! If you wanna hurt him, you gotta get through me first. He's the only family I have left, and I'll die before I let you do anything to him!"

An ugly look came over the devil's face, and though he tried to get closer to the brothers, it seemed to physically pain him.

"You have made a grave mistake, tonight." He promised.

It all happened so fast that Johnny's brain could hardly process it. A fireball shot out from his hand, and Johnny shielded James from it. He was caught square in the chest, sending both him and James flying.

Johnny had never felt this sort of pain before, he was on fire, but he wasn't dying, no matter how much it felt like he was, or how much he wanted to. His skin was melting away to bone.

And then it stopped.

He was able to stand. The devil was gone, James was knocked out cold, and Johnny had an insatiable hunger for vengeance.