Chapter 225: Fanfic #225 Saints and Sinners by TheStrangerOfNowhere(GhostRiderXWorm)
This fanfic is a fusion between Ghost Rider and Worm. I really like this fic because it has amazing world building and it shows how the world changes because of the Ghost Rider.
Synopsis: "You don't get to decide who lives or dies!" Armsmaster growled. I smiled sadly. "I'm not the one who decides."
Rated: M
words: 56k
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/saints-and-sinners-ghost-rider-worm-au.993592/reader/
Here's the first chapter:
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me."
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♦ Topic: The Ghost Rider
In: Boards ► Discussions ► Capes
FlippinMad (Original Poster)
Posted On Feb 17th 2008:
Okay, so this took entirely way too much effort to make. Special thanks go to Bagrat, our resident Guy in the Know, and Winged_One, our troll master.
So, the infamous Ghost Rider. Where to start? Well, for starters, no one knows where they came from. They're supposedly one of the first capes from around the golden age, way back in Vikare's day, like as far back as the 1990's. But there have been some wild and zany stories about a "flaming skeleton" roaming all over the country even before then, though the reports and claims still haven't been verified. Some bits also come from tabloids that strike up outlandish claims and gossip, so the information is even more dubious.
The first official sighting of the Ghost Rider was in August, 1989. A few days following the death of Vikare, a group of rioters, later confirmed to be the same ones involved in the basketball game that went to shit, were found
beaten and sported severe burns that are supposedly still unable to heal. Four of the seven rioters were DOA while the remaining three are either still serving a life sentence or in a mental hospital. The survivors all claimed they were attacked by, quote, a "a flaming skeleton in a leather jacket".
In the following years, there were more incidents and mentions of a cape matching this description, though unlike in the first report they've also been seen riding atop a motorcycle [Link]. If anyone wants a complete list of the Ghost Rider's activities, you can find them here [LINK] over on Sumbastich's cape analysis thread. (And if Sumbastich's reading this, dude, you REALLY need a life man.) This is more or less the highlights.
Fast forward to, say, 2002, and by now, the Ghost Rider is regarded as one of the most terrifying capes in the U.S. for more than a few reasons. First of which, they have zero respect for the Unwritten Rules. Whether on purpose or by accident, the Ghost Rider has unmasked a few capes, and they've killed more than a few criminals. They've also reportedly attacked other heroes for undisclosed reasons. At one point, in 2005, Eidolon of the Triumvirate (i.e. one of the strongest capes, if not the strongest) attempted to subdue the Ghost Rider.
Spoiler Alert: Eidolon got a face-full of superpowered shotgun [LINK].
The Ghost Rider's brutal beatdown of criminals and capes, not to mention whatever sort of powers they have, has either made villains quit the cape scene as certain characters such as Brockton Bay's infamous gamer duo Uber and Leet haven't been since as of this writing, while other villains have chosen to bat for the other team and joined the Protectorate. They're often identified by a leather jacket of some kind, a souped-up vehicle of some kind, most often a motorcycle, which can easily be identified by the flames pumping out of it, and of course the fact they appear to be a flaming skeleton.
Again, this is more less the tl;dr version. If you want more in-depth shit, check out Sumbastich's cape analysis thread. Link's already up.
Oh, and in case no one knows yet, the Ghost Rider's been sighted in Brockton Bay as of recently. Speaking as a native of the city, I have only this to say:
We are so fucked.
(Showing page 666 of 61606)
►AllSeeingEye (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
RIP Undersiders. It's been nice knowing you.
►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
I just saw the news feeds and reports on the rumormil. The Undersiders must be cursed or something. First they got Lung on their ass, and then when it looks like they've been saved, the Ghost Rider comes in and beats them to hell and back?
►Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Another one bites the dust. And another one gone, and another gone, and another one bites the dust!
►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Clock, so help me, I will report you if no one else hasn't already.
Not. The. Time.
►Laser Augment
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
You have to admit, this is kind of becoming a meme at this point, if you'll excuse the dark humor. The Merchants used to be a thing, and they lasted, what, four months before the Ghost Rider went and fucked up their shit? Skidmark's either dead or decided to rethink his life choices. Squealer joined the Protectorate.
Empire's not much to look at these days. Rune and Purity got the literal Nazi kicked out of them and hooked up with Squealer. Hookwolf's dead. Crusader's gone with the wind and last I heard Fenja's been flying solo.
I'm still waiting to cash in on my bet of Lung kicking the bucket by way of Ghost Rider's death glare.
►bothad (Verified Reporter)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
I wish I could disagree with you, I really do, but it's...kinda sad to be honest.
I doubt Director Piggot's happy. The city's starting to clean up, but it's all because of a loose cannon.
Honestly, I'm surprised this mofo hasn't gotten a Kill Order yet.
►Iblis
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
I think they did, but don't quote me on it. They probably got one when they beat the shit out of Eidolon.
►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
The Ghost Rider does, in fact, have a kill order. Refer to Sumbastich's Cape Analysis, page 103, post #1249235245245.
►AllSeeingEye (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
I'm not sure who needs a life more. Valkyr or Sumbastich.
Speaking of, has anybody figured out what the hell that means?
►Sumbastich
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Seriously? Ten fucking years and nobody's gotten the reference yet?!
►Answer Key
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Speaking of recent shit, anybody seen Circus or Trainwreck lately? You don't suppose GR took 'em out, do you?
►Acree
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Considering things tend to blow the fuck up whenever that flaming Nightmare Before Christmas reject is around, I think we'd know if he was fighting either of them.
►AllSeeingEye (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Now that Answer Key's mention it, I haven't seen either of them around all that much lately myself. Granted, Circus doesn't really like to advertise, but Trainweck's also pretty loud when he wants to be.
►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Maybe they've been dragged off to hell?
►Coyote-C
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Oh, not this shit again...
►FlippinMad (Original Poster)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Void, we've talked about this. No matter how much they look like one, we're certain the Ghost Rider isn't a demon.
If you ask me, he's a projection straight off a Disturbed or heavy metal band album cover
►GstringGirl
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
So, it's not just me?
►Nondeceptive
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Been meaning to ask, have the scorch marks GR's been leaving around disappear yet? Like you manage to cover it up?
►Kid Win (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
They haven't, sadly.
On the one hand, I wished the dude would stop burning everything. As much as Fugly's needs a makeover, the burn marks don't do much to spruce up the place.
On the other hand, I'd love to know how his flames work. From a reasonably safe distance, of course.
►Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Campire smores anyone?
►Forgotten Creator
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
God dammit, Clockblocker. You forgot the "f" in "Campfire"!
►Weld (Verified Cape) (Wards Boston)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Don't even joke about that, man. I got up close and personal with GR's fire when he decided to wrap his fire around a metal chain. It burned like a motherfucker. I still got the burn marks on my arm!
Also, pretty sure the smores would melt instantly. 'cording to analysts, GR's flames are hot enough to melt tungsten steel.
►Winged_One
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
For future reference, the melting point of tungsten steel is 3,422 degrees Celsius.
►AllSeeingEye (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
I was gonna make a joke involving sunburns, but after hearing that...
►Sumbastich
Replied On Apr 11th 2011:
Seriously, is no one going to ask about the reference?!
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 664, 665, 666, 667, 668 ... 61604, 61605, 61606
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April 12, 2011
Officer Kennith MacLean rubbed his face, feeling as tired as he ever been. He would have thought he'd retire by this point, but he was still here. At first he chalked it up to just being too being stubborn, but at some point he learned it was just an excuse. His relationship with his family was hardly the best. An overbearing wife, a trouble-making son, the whole nine yards. He dreaded the days he came home, and eventually started staying at work late. After all, what better way to avoid dealing with a troublesome woman and a brat than to hide behind the badge?
Maybe he was avoiding the problem, but so did everyone else. It was better to look away and pretend everything was fine, wasn't it? Or maybe that was just him being stubborn again.
When was the last time he—
"Bad night?"
MacLean looked up, finding a fresh newblood hovering over him and holding several bottles of water in his arm, one bottle in the rookie's hand and held out for him to take. "You could say that," the older man grumbled as he took the bottle. "This city guts you to pieces."
"Tell me about it," the rookie agreed. "My folks told me what life was like when the Teeth ran this place. Crazy times, I've heard."
"Worse. Some of the older folks here will tell you what it was like for non-superhumans. Bodies strewn everywhere, blood caked on the streets." MacLean sighed and shook his head. "And now we've got a leathered-up pyromaniac running around, taking justice in his own hands." He glared at the untouched reports on his desk, the files and papers of gang violence, some of which were parahuman related that fell on the boys in blue to look into when it didn't concern the PRT. "Can't even remember what the good old days before comic books came to life used to be a thing. Sorry, what's your name, kid?"
"Rex, sir. Rex Anders."
MacLean raised a brow. "No relation to Max Anders?"
"None that I'm aware of. I get that a lot. By the way, sergeant ask me to talk to you. We've got two stiffs in the morgue, three beaten black and blue all over, and one guy sitting in an interrogation room," Rex said with a grimace. "They're Empire, and no two guesses who had a run-in with them."
The older officer swore under his breath, having a good idea why the rookie was telling him about this.
MacLean walked into the interrogation room, only stopping for a second when he saw the Empire kid. He looked around the same age as his son, and utter shit. His left eye was black, scuffs and bruises all over his face and stitches across his right eyebrow. He looked like the picture perfect Aryan the Empire loved to prop up on a pedestal: blonde hair and bright, baby-blue eyes.
"…no offense, kid, but you look like shit." The kid barely reacted to his jab. Hell, he barely spared him a glance. Poor kid looked spooked, and MacLean knew why. He sighed as he dragged the seat out from under the table, plopping himself down. "So, normally this would be the part I ask you what's got you so terrified, but I have a pretty good guess. You look good for someone who just ran into the devil."
The kid chortled. "No shit, right?" He stared at his hands, twitchy and glancing at the doors. Whether he wanted to make a run for it or was afraid someone was gonna bust through it, MacLean didn't know. "I just joined, you know? A friend introduced me to them. Said I could get money real quick."
"What for?"
"Get out of the neighborhood. Away from this fucking city," the kid spat. "You ever wonder you'll be able to sleep peacefully for a week? To go a month without hearing firecrackers pop off right outside your house?"
"Every day," MacLean said. "You could have gotten a job anywhere else. Why a gang?"
"Easier to do, would've made a lot of money quick." The kid took a breath. His shoulders started to shake and eyes turned frightened, looking as though he were staring at something a million miles away. "I should've known better. I should have…"
MacLean didn't pat the boy on the shoulder like he should have. The last time someone like this came in and he did that, they freaked out and started throwing punches and kicks like they were about to be killed. "What's your name?"
"T-Thomas," the kid said. "M-my name's Thomas. My friends call me TJ. The-the J's for junior. I was named after my dad."
"Okay, Thomas, can you tell me what happened?"
"My friend, he… He said he got my first job all lined up, a quick smash and grab. Asian guy running a pharmacy over by Kellington Street. No security cameras, late at night, easy. We went in, one of the guys went outside to keep watch. The owner, he, um, he put a fight. I hit him over the head with a crowbar. We just tore open the cash register and start looking for the safe when we noticed the guy out front is gone."
Thomas stopped. His face shifted and scrunched up, taking several breaths like they would help.
"A few seconds later, he came burst through the back door. It-it happened so fast, I barely realized what was going on. I went to hit him with the crowbar. He caught it without even looking, had Clarke, t-the guy who set up the whole gig, by the neck. I heard him screaming. Fuck, his eyes, th-there was something wrong with him. It-it looked like his eyes were on fire or something, like they were turning to charcoal! He never stopped screaming. A-and then the guy, he just and turns to look at me."
"What happened?" MacLean asked.
Thomas swallowed. "I-I don't know. He just stared at me. At least I think he did? He… He didn't have any eyes. Just sockets full of fire. Then he started beating the shit out of me." The kid lowered his head. "When I came to, the others were all lying on the ground. Their eyes looked back to normal, but their faces… They looked like they were still screaming."
MacLean bit his bottom lip. Miss Militia told him about this in a side conversation, and even before then there had been horror stories among the inmates. Whenever that bony fucker looked you in the eyes, there was nothing else to feel but pure, agonizing pain. The way they talked about, it was like all their sins came back to haunt them and inflict everything they did to others onto them. The detective chalked it up to parahuman bullshit as usual, but even he would admit, what he saw and heard spoke of some pretty gnarly stuff.
"This was stupid," Thomas whispered. The dam broke as the reality of situation seemed to finally sink in. Tears spilled from his face. "I shouldn't have joined this stupid fucking gang. I should have just toughed it out, or-or find a real job." He looked up at MacLean pleadingly. "The shop owner, t-they guy I hit with the crowbar. He's okay, isn't he? He is, right?!"
When MacLean told him that yes, aside from a head concussion, the shop owner was fine, the poor kid broke down into sobs. The detective leaned in his seat and sighed, wondering idly to himself if his kid joined a gang also. He was no Aryan or Asian, but since when did that matter? There was all kinds in this fucking city.
Later that night, when Thomas' parents were contacted and all the paperwork was filled out, Kennith MacLean talked with his son over the phone for the first time in a very long while…
April 13, 2011
Brian stared at himself in the mirror. His mocha-colored skin was pale, eyes bloodshot, and his face was covered in a mix of water and sweat. He was running on fumes; two cups of the strongest cup of coffee he could make and barely an hour's worth of sleep. When it felt like he was about to go off into lala land, screams roared in his ears. Screams of pain and agony. Faces of people he barely remembered or forgot about stared back at him every time he closed his eyes. One face stared back, old and wrinkled with dead eyes.
"Your fault," the old man seemed to convey without moving his lips. "All your fault."
The teen wondered when it all went wrong. Things were tense, sure, but he didn't think they would ever be in a situation like this. He knew the dangers, the possibilities, and the consequences and accepted he would have to do things that would tear at his conscious. That's why he chose low-end jobs, things that would have the lowest amount of risk. He prided himself in that every job he took, no life was lost. People were injured, yes, but no one was killed.
…at least, that's what he thought.
Brian took a deep breath and stepped away from the sink, grabbing a towel from the rack and wiping his face. He retreated back into his room and glanced out the door. It was cracked open enough to reveal the apartment across from him. It was vacant despite having been rented. Its owner wouldn't be here for at least another year. He couldn't wait for that day to come, especially since it was right around the corner. He imagined the scenario in his head a thousand times, all of them the happiest moment in his life.
When he saw the door now, he wondered if he'd ever see that day. Brian looked to his bed. His helmet was there in plain sight, as was the leather jacket that had been part of his ensemble for as long as he could remember, as well as a phone.
All these years of hard work, of blood, sweat, and tears… Could he really bring himself to throw it all away? Or did he want to do what he should have done from the start? The thought ate away at him, and an uncertain pit gnawed at his stomach. After a moment of decision, he walked over to his bed and snatched up his phone, quick-dialing a number. He could use a second opinion, but a part of him knew what the answer would be.
After three rings, the call picked up. "It's me," he said quietly. "You got a minute?"
"Alec's gone." Brian knew immediately how this conversation was going to end the second Lisa said that. "Don't know where he is, but he packed up his stuff and left. Must've been in the middle of the night. Couldn't find Bitch, either." The know-it-all scoffed. "At least she had the decency to leave a note."
He smiled bitterly. "So, that's it? We're done?"
"You guys are done. I don't got much of a choice."
After their run-in with the scariest motherfucker in the world, and after their freak-outs were done and over with, Lisa told them everyone. Who was responsible for backing them, how she was recruited, and so on. She even told them her name, her real name. They were never close, but Brian always considered them colleagues. Not friends, but very good work partners. When she mentioned Rex, he had to ask himself if they were friends at that moment.
He licked his lips, racing to try and justify himself. To keep going as he always did when things got tough. He had been in this situation before, this feeling of self-doubt, but he always bounced back.
"Not this time, Brian."
"…have I ever told you how much I hated it when you do that?" In spite of himself, Brian managed to crack a small smile.
Lisa let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, well, tough shit."
"You ain't comin' with?"
"Don't have a choice here. So long as he's got a metaphorical and literal gun to my head, I have to follow through. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though. Stay safe, you hear me? Last thing I need is to adopt Aisha."
Brian nodded and ended the phone call. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. Dozens of faces stared back accusingly, and the old man was glaring at me.
"…yeah, it was my fault," he admitted as he grabbed his helmet. "I guess I gotta do something right for once."
"…so, let me get this straight. Grue just walked up to the main PRT building, waited until Miss Militia was out in front, unmasked himself, and asked to join the Wards?"
Colin rolled his eyes. "That is what I just said."
Ethan stared at him for a moment, then at Hannah and Shawn. The latter gave a shrug while the former seemed to be in high spirits, no doubt being the one Grue—Brian Laborn—spoke with regarding his heel-face. He shook his head in amazement. "Well, damn. I was putting bets on whether that guy was a kid or an adult. Fuck, now I owe Triumph a hundred bucks."
"That's where your concerned?" It shouldn't have surprised him, it really shouldn't have, but somehow, Ethan always managed to do just that.
The Director cleared her throat and brought all attention back on her. "That's enough chit-chat." Her tone was harsh, but no one could blame her. While the Protectorate was stronger than ever and the gangs steadily growing weaker by the day, it wasn't because of their own success. Rather, it had been the work of one of the most infamous figures in the country, and they had been here three years now. "Grue, what's the reason for turning over a new leaf now?"
"Same as Purity, Rune, and Squealer," Hannah replied curtly. "Apparently, they pissed off Lung last month for robbing his casino, and he wanted payback. The Ghost Rider intervened, pushed Lung back, then dealt with them. Just like previous cases, the Ghost Rider looked him in the eyes and made him feel the pain and suffering he inflicted on his victims. Apparently, one of Grue's heists prior to joining the Undersiders suffered a casualty, and he wasn't even aware of it until the Ghost Rider got their hands on him."
"You have him undergoing Master/Stranger protocols, right?"
"C'mon, Piggot," Ethan said. "We've gone through this song and dance dozens of times now. The only Master shit they went through is whatever pain cocktail ol' fire and brimstone put them through. They joined the PRT of their own free will."
"It's called being safe, Assault," Colin chided him. "Even after all this time, we know nothing about how the Ghost Rider's powers work. For all we know, the people he's affected could be walking time bombs waiting to go off. It's why we have Purity, Squealer, and Rune undergoing probation and heavy observation."
"Look, I'm just saying…"
Hannah coughed into her hand, ending the argument before it could begin. "Regardless, it never hurts to be careful. Just as Armsmaster said, there's still so much we don't know about them. For starters, why they're still in Brockton Bay. The Ghost Rider's never been one to stay in one area for so long, especially not to this extent."
"It is a little weird, now that I think about it," Shawn said while cupping his chin. "They usually stay for a few weeks, maybe two months max, before moving on, right? They've been in Brockton Bay since 2008. What's the reason?"
"Maybe because Brockton Bay's a shithole?" Ethan offered. "I mean, we're certainly not lacking in competition, and up until they showed up, we could only bloody the gang's noses a little."
That had recently become a sore point for Colin. They weremaking progress at long last, but both he and the Director knew they were simply piggy-backing off the Ghost Rider's actions. It vexed him immensely. He wanted to claim recognition and glory, validation, through proper channels and protocols, not take the scraps and leftovers of someone else's conquest. When news of the Ghost Rider's arrival first came, he wanted to be the one to bring them in, either as a future member of the Protectorate or a criminal. In either event, he was bound to garner great prestige.
His first meeting with the cape ended with him silently fuming as he watched workers scrape off the melted remains of his armor off the pavement. Armor he designed to be incredibly heat-resistant.
Director Piggot, in any case, wasn't happy that their newest acquisition was yet another result of the Ghost Rider's actions. She was especially vexed because, like him and Hannah, she dreaded the moment Grue would be introduced to the Wards proper and Shadow Stalker learned he was joining them. The girl certainly made it no secret she despised him because of how his powers interfered with hers.
"We can spend hours arguing about this, or we can get to the point," the Director hissed through clenched teeth. "Did Grue talk about the Undersiders at all? Did he divulge anything? Are they planning on defecting as well?"
Hannah sighed. "Regent and Bitch, that's the name Hellhound apparently prefers," she said hastily before Ethan could say anything. "Have gone their separate ways. Tattletale gave no mentions to their whereabouts when Grue asked her, but as for the girl herself, she admitted to having been recruited by Coil at gunpoint, and doesn't have much of a choice but to continue working for him."
"Wait, Coil?" Shawn cut in, his face severe. "Like, the d-lister Coil? The guy who relies on mercenaries? Isn't he, like, bottom of the barrel when it comes to the rest of the villains in the city?"
"Information and details about Coil's operations are vague at best, and the fact that he hires only mercenaries shows a little of his character," Hanna explained. "The gangs are only unified under capes because their powers are the only thing shielding them from danger. Loyalty can only go so far, though. Mercenaries, on the other hand, can be earned through money. So long as you make the right offers and prices, and give them valuable intelligence and weaponry…"
Ethan grimaced. "In other words, Coil might not be small fish after all. Well, that's awesome."
"Assuming we can take Tattletale at her word, you mean," Colin huffed. "How do we know she isn't giving us false information?"
"Tattletale provided Brian an olive branch for him to deliver; information on two capes who are known to be in contact with Coil. Circus was hired by Coil a year and a half ago, citing the Earlston Banking robbery and Wesley & Sons' Museum of Agriculture and History as being hits orchestrated by Coil. Chariot was similarly hired a year ago and is one of the providers of Coil's mercenaries."
Director Piggot leveled a sharp glare Colin's direction. By the time she opened her mouth, his hand was already at his bracer and inputting commands on the miniature keyboard he installed in one of the hidden panels. "I'll have all the information analyzed by this evening," he promised. "If her information checks out, what's the plan?"
"If it checks out, we label Circus and Chariot as priority targets for capture. I want to know how far Coil's reach extends, and how many pies he has his fingers in." The tinker nodded and marched out the conference room, no doubt hurrying to his lab so he could get things done. "In the meantime, Miss Militia, I want you to coordinate with Triumph and work out the Wards' patrol routes. As we've come to learn in recent years, Lung does not take his losses very well. The ABB is going to be out for blood, and where there's blood in the water, that fucking skeleton is going to come running."
"Understood, ma'am."
Lung tried many times to subdue the Ghost Rider, like many had before him. Just as he tried with the Protectorate when he first arrived, he wanted to establish a presence and present his dominance. If he defeated, or even killed one of the most feared capes in the United States, he would surely gain no small amount of prestige and power. Instead, the Ghost Rider steamrolled right over him, scarring him when no-one else could. The burns remained even when Lung became his namesake, as if to remind everyone the humiliation and shame he endured.
Throughout the years, Lung continued to challenge the Ghost Rider. She lost count how many times they clashed, but Director Piggot dreaded each and every confrontation. When flaming skeleton and pissed-off dragon met, everything was on fire. She was honestly amazed by Lung's stupidity. Even Kaiser had the sense to retreat when things got hairy. It was why he still had capes. Granted, he lost five of his; Fenja left Brockton Bay some odd months ago and rebranded herself as an independent hero with Night and Fog over in Boston, Hookwolf was a charred molten skeleton left to rot on the pavement, Crusader dropped off the face of the Earth, and Purity and Rune joined the Protectorate and Wards respectively.
Lung did not accept his losses quietly. He seemed to recognize that the Ghost Rider, for whatever reason, was hellbent on finding and brutalizing criminals of every kind, the majority of which suffered from their Master freakshow bullshit. As such, he reasoned the quickest way he could get a rematch was to raise as much chaos as possible to get their attention. And it worked, but each time, the ABB lost more and more manpower. On a few occasions, the Empire took advantage of the chaos and beat down the ABB even further while the Ghost Rider was distracted.
While he might have gotten far as he did because the opposition before him was either weak or too cautious, and people feared him for his ruthlessness, Lung's repeated attempts to fight the Ghost Rider and throw his men uselessly at him was destroying his loyalty. Director Piggot knew that, sooner or later, the ABB would self-destruct. By that point, the only gang left in the city would be the Empire, and it would be a cold day in hell before she allowed a fucking Neo-Nazi to take over Brockton Bay.
As her thoughts grew more and more centered around the fucking bastard who was causing her so much trouble, Piggot found herself growling in anger. The Ghost Rider embodied everything she hated about parahumans. The callous disregard for authority and the law, taking the law into their own hands…
One way or another, she swore she'd find some way to get rid of them, even if she had to take a page out of Tagg's book.
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