Chapter 5

The Interrogation

Dean walked into the lit room. Only a table and two chairs, one already taken, sat in the center of the room. The single lamp above swayed gently with its bulb flickering, giving it the feeling of an old detective movie. The walls were pale, almost enough to drive someone insane if they stared at them too long. The man at the table wore black jeans and a leather jacket. Silver studs were pinned to the shoulder blades and cuffs. He was very dangerous looking like his outfit. His short cut brown hair was tossed about on his squared head. His features were all very muscled and solid. You could tell he had been working out. Dean was almost frightened just looking at him, but he had seen worse before. The man looked down at his cuffed hands, begging for freedom. Dean walked to the empty chair on the other side of the table.

"So… Johnny Blaze", Dean began.

Johnny lifted his head. He rolled his eyes at Dean's smug look.

"Listen, I appreciate you getting me out of that holding cell with all those punks and criminals, but can we just get this over with soon. I'm a little tired of cops asking me the same questions over and over, especially when I can't come up with any new answers. I don't like repeating myself."

Dean smirked with a silent laugh.

"You think I'm a cop?"

"No. I'm just pretending you're a cop so that if you really are you won't beat the crap out of me for thinking otherwise."

Dean smiled quizzically at the relaxed fugitive.

"You know, I like you."

"Thanks. I would say I like you too, but I have a rule against liking people that hold me against my will."

"Fair enough. My name is Dean Winchester."

Johnny perked up, somewhat intrigued by his name. He shifted forward and rounded his shoulders, leaning his elbows on the table. He listened attentively, waiting for more. Dean could see this new interest and wondered why he was acting this way.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious. Continue."

"Why so curious?"

"Just curious", he shrugged off.

Dean was now suspicious of this mysterious character and wanted to know more about him, so he continued with his questions.

"So you're some hot shot stunt man, right?"

Johnny laid back in his chair with a deep sigh, tired of hearing about himself.

"It's not that great."

"Apparently not since you threw it all away for prison."

"I didn't throw it away. I still show for my fans. And it's not like I chose this."

"Maybe, but do you think your fans will be impressed when they see their role model behind bars?"

"You know, for a guy that claims he's not a cop, you sure act like one."

Dean snickered again and stood up from his seat to walk around.

"Yeah, I guess you could say I'm like one…. but they're not really on my side. With what I do, they just keep getting in my way."

"What do you do?"

Dean turned back to the prisoner.

"Why do you care?"

"I told you, I'm curious."

"But why? Before I mentioned my name you didn't give a rat's ass that I existed!"

"Alright, so I've heard your name once or twice."

"Where?"

"Why do you care?" Johnny mocked saying the same thing as Dean.

Dean sat down again to face his rivalry.

"Alright, this is enough. Look, I know you're the freaking Ghost Rider. I saw you back at that bar last night killing a guy with your penance stare. I'm not a cop, but I do have some questions and I expect answers."

"By all means, ask away," Johnny said with the swish of his hand.

Dean jumped right in.

"Who do you work for?"

"The Devil. Mephistopheles is what he goes by these days."

"And he makes you kill people?"

Johnny inched forward to talk softly to Dean.

"You say you know about the Ghost Rider legend, yes?"

"I've heard of it."

"Then you know", Johnny vaguely stated.

"Well the legend says you kill evil, but how can that be possible if you work for the Devil? He is evil incarnate. He's the one that wants all of us dead; the good and the innocent. He's the one that sends all of these demons and creatures out from Hell. Why would he want you to go and retrieve them after all that work?"

"He doesn't exactly let them out of Hell, as you said. They somehow escape. I just clean up the mess."

"And you're okay with that?"

"'Course not. Who would want to do that? But when you sell your soul there's not much else you can do. Except if you're me."

Dean looked confused.

"What do you mean?

"I left."

"You… left?"

"Yeah. I told the big guy to suck it and left to do my own thing."

Dean gave a half smile and allowed a short chuckle to escape his lips.

"You can do that?" he laughed.

Johnny shrugged.

"It's not about can and can't. It's about will and won't."

Dean nodded, quite impressed. Johnny gave Dean a serious look.

"You know, there's a surprising amount you know on this subject. How do you know about demons and things?" Johnny asked.

Dean decided to be more up front with Johnny, warming up to him.

"Well, let's just say me and weird go together like Brad and Angelina."

Johnny chuckled under his breath.

Dean continued while rising from his seat to stretch his legs.

"Me and my brother, Sam… we hunt demons."

Johnny squinted as if trying to grasp this concept.

"Demons, huh?"

"And other things."

Johnny shook and lowered his head.

"No wonder," he said just loud enough for Dean to notice him speaking.

Dean gave him a stern stare.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. It's just this demon I fought a while back mentioned you."

Dean was now interested. He calmly but anxiously sat back in his chair, eager to hear Johnny's reply.

"How long back?"

Johnny curled his lip and shrugged.

"A few months ago, almost a year."

"What did it say", Dean demanded.

Johnny shrugged casually.

"I don't know. Something about getting you back for what you did a long time ago."

Dean froze. He knew exactly what Johnny was talking about even if Johnny himself didn't.

"Did it mention anything else?"

"No, not really."

Dean ran a hand down his rough facial features. He stood up and walked to the far wall, his back turned to Johnny.

"I hope you know that this demon isn't going to rest until you're dead. Once you've done something to offend them, whatever it may be, you're marked for life."

Dean stood motionless, thinking of what to do with himself next. He fingered his necklace that hung from his strong neck over his plain black t-shirt. It was a little rusty, but smooth from being handled over the years. That necklace along with the Impala, were his single most prized possessions, given to him by his father. Because it was so special to him he never took it off, therefore it was overly worn. The silver pendant on the end of the woven thread chain resembled an Indian man's face with an interestingly shaped headdress or traditional hat with pieces at the sides that looked like horns. The details were rounded and not as prominent as they would have been many years ago. It was hard to make out its shape at all.

He twiddled it in his fingers. Light reflected off its smooth surface from the small lamp in the room's center.

"Yeah. I know."

Dean lifted his head and spun around looking at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

Finally Dean's eyes met what he was searching for. A security camera rested in the top corner above the door. He stared into the camera lens with a hardy smile and walked closer to it. When he reached his target he made a fist and punched it out. The annoying, beeping red light stopped flashing and the glass of the lens shattered. He shook out his hand vigorously to numb the pain.

"What on earth…" Johnny started.

"I'm getting you out of here", Dean responded turning back to his now partner.

Johnny closed his eyes and sighed with relief.

"Oh, finally!"

"But you're not just leaving."

"What?"

Before Dean could answer, the door opened. A security guard came running into the room. Dean, standing behind the door slammed it in his face. The heavy, solid slab smacked the man square in the forehead. He instantly dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, unconscious. Dean bent down and snagged the ring of keys from his utility belt. Walking back to the handcuffed fugitive, Dean continued explaining.

"You're coming with me."