//------------------------------// // Chapter 30 – Battle: Los Angeles // Story: Infinity Era // by JDPrime22 //------------------------------// 30 California, USA East Los Angeles Streets 3:24 p.m. A squadron of F15-E Strike Eagles broke across the skylines of Los Angeles, over the neighborhood streets and straight towards the city. They were accompanied by several UH-60 Black Hawks carrying an abundance of U.S. Army soldiers. Their fight was centered towards the city of Los Angeles, where the Chitauri Command Center was slowly but surely approaching. Consuming the very skyline of Los Angeles, the Chitauri army spread its infection throughout the city. Towers of smoke rose higher than the largest skyscrapers. Massive fires spread and ate away at the outer rims of the city, Chitauri chariots and starships divebombing buildings, the streets, and even spreading further out to attack the neighborhoods of East Los Angeles. U.S. forces quickly moved through the streets, leading their IAV Strykers towards the city where the majority of the fighting occurred. Even with support from their armored vehicles, the U.S. Army were desperately unprepared while they were busy trying to evacuate civilians from the area. A battalion of Chitauri chariots flew overhead, sending an array of energy bolts directly on top of them. The U.S. forces took cover and returned fire, their rifles pointed to the sky, firing away whenever they caught a glimpse of the flying chariots in the burning afternoon sunlight. The air was ripe with gunfire and blood-curdling cries, both from the attacking aliens and the soldiers spouting off orders. The soldiers were unable to stop the Chitauri from entering civilian evacuation sites. It only got more and more difficult when Chitauri leapt from the chariots they rode and landed on the body and blood ridden streets of East Los Angeles, whipping out their rifles and firing away at the surrounded U.S. forces. They were forced down the road, returning fire and retreating behind destroyed or burning vehicles for cover whenever they had the chance. A squadron of U.S. soldiers led their Stryker down the road, halting once the Chitauri blocked their path, their rifle fire preventing them from proceeding any further. They took cover behind their Stryker, the armored vehicle taking the majority of the alien blaster fire. The Chitauri leapt upon the destroyed vehicles, firing away on the lone group of soldiers. East Los Angeles was consumed along with the rest of the city. Consumed in flames and chaos and warfare. Civilians scattered about, thousands still in the city and hundreds more lying in the streets of East Los Angeles. The U.S. Army’s goal to evacuate civilians was put on hold with the Chitauri already nearing the city and unleashing its forces. They couldn’t order a nuclear strike with hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians still in the area. Their only hope was to push into the city and begin the evacuation before they had a chance of nuking the warship. Millions had already fled, millions still unaccounted for. Abandoned vehicles filled the crowded highways, people taking the chance of escaping the city on foot. The Chitauri were far too preoccupied with protecting their Command Center, laying waste to the city, and dealing with the U.S. forces to pay heed to any other distraction. The U.S. Army was focused on dealing solely on protecting the citizens of Los Angeles, digging deeper into the fight and pushing back the alien invasion by any means possible. They were all caught up in the war. None of them saw the orange portal rip through the very fabric of reality. The portal appeared in the street, revealing a gray landscape within that stretched for endless miles. Completely dead, darkness filling the edges of the world within the portal. And out of it stepped a single being. A lone person. A human. He emerged out of the orange portal, the sparks swirling around its edges dying out once the portal vanished. And Roberto Reyes stood dead center in the street, a slick, gray chain wrapped around and over his chest and shoulder. His face appeared weary, his short, black hair covered in sweat alongside his face and mustache. His black jacket was spotless, the pair of white vertical lines decorated on his jacket painted in dust and dirt. His black pants and shoes were filthy, both from his journey through Hell and his previous predicaments. He clenched his hands into fists, the black gloves responding in kind. Robbie was no stranger to Hell. His whole life was practically filled with it, ever since he dropped out of high school and took a job as a mechanic at Canelo’s Auto and Body. Life only got harder, and it got even worse when Reyes decided to take his uncle’s car—a 1969 Dodge Charger known as the “Hell Charger”—out for a spin one forsaken night. He made the mistake of doing so. He made the mistake of crossing with the Fifth Street Locos. He made the mistake of bringing his little brother Gabe along for the ride. He tried to get him and his little brother away from the Locos as fast as he could, but they caught up no matter how fast he drove. They shot up the Hell Charger, sending bullets into both Reyes and his brother, and leaving the crime scene after watching the Hell Charger crash and burn. When Robbie was flung from the car, in his final moments of life, he prayed to God, to whatever was out there to save his little brother. When he hit the road, Robbie Reyes died on impact. He thought he did. A voice called out to him in the darkness that followed, asking Reyes just one thing. It asked if he wanted vengeance on those that harmed him and his brother. Reyes, without any power on earth, with what little power he had left in the darkness, said yes. And he gave up his soul at that very moment, to a being without any remorse, any mercy. It dragged his little brother out of the demolished car, standing over Robbie’s dead body and bringing him back to life with a simple touch. A single touch that consumed all of Robbie’s face in flame, his skin burning away as he screamed in agony. What was left was the roaring skull, the unending flame burning across its head and out of its mouth. Reyes could breathe again. He could move again. He was alive… again. It was then did Reyes become something other than human, something not from Earth but from another world, another dimension. Something that couldn’t feel pain, both from itself and for the pain it inflicted upon others who were deserving of it. Robbie Reyes, after being resurrected from the dead, became the Ghost Rider. His little brother Gabe survived the crash, but was considered disabled and forced to remain in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Enacting revenge, both for his own death and what happened to Gabe, Reyes ensured that the lives of the Fifth Street Locos that committed the crime came to a quick, painful, and abrupt end. The Ghost Rider in him, the demon that possessed the man, determined who deserved to die, and it led Reyes on a killing spree throughout East Los Angeles. He took down criminals and gang members for years, earning the reputation as “The Rider” amongst the populace of his hometown. His little brother never knew what really happened that night. He found out soon enough when S.H.I.E.L.D. interfered with their lives. It all began when Quake tracked Reyes down, earning her own reputation as a vigilante. She thought she could defeat Reyes and stop his murder spree from going on any longer. Daisy Johnson never lasted against the Ghost Rider. She, like all the others, failed to stop him from doing what he was meant to. But unlike the others, the Ghost Rider saw something in Daisy’s eyes. She wasn’t like the others who tried to kill him. She was only trying to do good in the world. He let her live after their encounter. Since then, S.H.I.E.L.D. has followed him nonstop. Reyes was eventually forced into their business when he realized his uncle Eli Morrow had planned to use the power of the Darkhold to acquire ancient, mystical powers. With the power of the Darkhold, he could become the most powerful man in the world, using his strength to rule with an iron fist. Reyes knew he had no choice but to kill him and take the Darkhold somewhere where no one would find it. While being forced into the Inter-Dimensional Gate, Reyes managed to kill his uncle, but was unfortunate enough to be sucked straight into the Multiverse. He fell right into Hell’s awaiting embrace, forced to do the bidding of the Spirit of Vengeance for weeks until he finally managed to escape and return to the Earthly Plane. With Eli dealt with for good, Reyes rejoined with S.H.I.E.L.D. to bring down the android known as Aida from using the power of the Darkhold to cause a catastrophic event on Earth. They succeeded, the Spirit of Vengeance entering Coulson’s body in order to trick and defeat Aida once and for all. It came at a price, a price Phil was willing to pay to ensure the safety of Earth. Robbie didn’t envy him for what he bargained with: His very life for possession of the Ghost Rider. With Aida destroyed and the Darkhold finally in his hands, Reyes took it upon himself to bring the book to Hell and hide it away, ensuring that no one would use its evil powers ever again. He opened the portal right in front of Coulson, Daisy, and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. and disappeared. They were the last real humans he saw in nearly a year. And now, with the Darkhold safely in Hell, Robbie could rest and return to his home and the only real family he had left, his little brother. When he exited the portal, when he stepped foot in East Los Angeles, his satisfied smile instantly vanished. His smile slowly faded away, leaving only a grim expression mixed with denial. “No…” Reyes muttered, shaking his head. “This ain’t right. This ain’t right!” He stared straight at the Chitauri warship closing in on Los Angeles, the city in flames, the skies pockmarked with explosions, falling debris, and dogfights between the U.S. Air Force and Chitauri chariots and starships. Explosions rocked the earth with tremors, causing Robbie to stumble. He observed his surroundings, spotting a squad of U.S. soldiers in a firefight with several Chitauri in the middle of the street. Beyond them, his house stood. He could barely see through the smoke and fire and madness of war. Beyond them… Gabe was left all alone. Unprotected. He didn’t even know if he was alive. Reyes took off in a dead sprint, that thought alone giving him the adrenaline and energy needed after a long journey through Hell. He weaved around cars, sometimes hopping and sliding across the hoods of a few that remained abandoned and burning in the middle of the road. He didn’t stop, not even for the U.S. soldiers that shouted at him when he ran past them. The Stryker fired away with its 30 mm cannon mounted on top, Reyes covering his head to the onslaught of bullets that rang throughout the air. The cannon managed to strike several Chitauri in the street, rising up and blowing a chariot right out of the sky. The flaming husk that remained careened and fell down to the street, impacting the Stryker. The soldiers managed to get out of the way in time, Reyes doing the same as the chariot crashed into the Stryker and blew them both to hell. The resulting explosion sent fire and metal scrap across the street, none of which hit Reyes and simply laid next to him in the street. With just the sound of the fire and far-off battles raging elsewhere, Robbie slowly raised his head and observed the area. The bright afternoon sun nearly blinded him, hanging heavy over Los Angeles under siege. The alien warship remained dead ahead, but Reyes wasn’t focused on that. He could see his house getting closer. Pressing his gloved-palms to the street, Reyes wiped off his jacket and eyed his house, kept his attention focused only on it. He never saw the blaster bolt before it was too late. The stream of blue struck Robbie right in the heart, the man keeling over and clutching his chest. He didn’t fall to his knees, but kept his face contorted in pain down to the street. A group of Chitauri emerged from the destroyed vehicles in the street, their rifles centered on Reyes, slowly approaching the lone human. They watched, and they actually flinched when he shot up his head and glared at them. When they looked into his eyes. When they saw the burning orange in his pupils. They actually began to back away, just a few inches. But it showed. They showed their unease, their discomfort. Their fear. Reyes’ face contorted into a different kind of a pain, a pain he had become and accepted. A pain he used to his advantage. His eyes glowed bright orange. “Wrong move, cabrón,” he growled, shutting his eyes as tight as he could and gritting his teeth, trying to hold in his painful screams. The Chitauri could only watch in horror as the man’s face burned away into nothing but ash, the sound of boiling skin evaporating off of his person. And what remained, what glared upon the small group of aliens slowly rose to full height. The Chitauri cried out and fired away, using their remaining rounds on the demon. The blasts did nothing to the Ghost Rider. The Spirit of Vengeance just growled, the flames flickering off its skull. The demon turned its glowing orange dots for eyes to the closest Chitauri, approaching it slowly. The lone Chitauri continued to fire away, the blaster bolts doing nothing to the Rider. The alien screeched out, using its rifle as a weapon and swinging for the Ghost Rider’s burning skull. The Spirit caught the rifle with its left hand. Both it and the Chitauri slowly looked to it, the alien in shock and the demon focusing back its way. Before the Chitauri could react, the Ghost Rider shot out its right hand and began to strangle the creature by its throat. The other Chitauri continued to fire on the Spirit, but it was fruitless. The lone alien in the Rider’s grasp cried and struggled, both claws gripping Ghost Rider’s right arm. The Rider, with its far superior strength, actually forced the alien to its knees just by lowering its arm. It closed the distance between them, meeting the alien’s gaze and burning it to a crisp. Its gaze, its eyes, its head, and its body. All burned away into nothing but ash when the Ghost Rider roared into its face. Tossing whatever remained of the creature aside, the Ghost Rider shot its flaming eyes over to the two that remained. They stood frozen in shock, their rifles low to the ground. They slowly began to back away. The Spirit of Vengeance raised both of its hands, two flames burning to life in its palms. Looking to each, the Ghost Rider turned back to the Chitauri, not even making a sound as it shot out both of its hands. A torrent of flames exited the Rider’s hands, striking and consuming both Chitauri before they could escape. They breathed their last cry, their bodies evaporating into nothing but ash. The Ghost Rider dropped its hands. Behind the flaming husk of the Stryker, the remaining U.S. soldiers peeked around the corner and saw it. They saw the Ghost Rider. They saw it unsheathe the chain wrapped around it, striking it across the ground and igniting the steel into a burning flame. They watched as it walked down the street, approaching the Chitauri army all by itself. The Ghost Rider growled, grabbing the Hellfire Chain with both hands as it saw the Chitauri chariots charging for the street directly ahead. Blocking its path and the house it needed to reach. That Reyes needed to reach. There was minimal understanding between the two, and Reyes was only able to control so much that the Spirit of Vengeance allowed. But for now, it gave Reyes the control he needed. In the corner of its vision, the Ghost Rider could see a small family evacuating their house. In the front yard, what looked to be the oldest brother suddenly pulled out his phone and started to record the events unfolding in the street. The young man was pulled away by his father, forced into the house as they continued to evacuate their home of all the essentials needed to escape the warzone. Then came the chariots. The Ghost Rider growled, flame bursting out from its head as it slashed the road with a whip of the Hellfire Chain. The first chariot flew directly down the middle of the road, the Chitauri upon it firing a round of blaster fire on the lone occupant in the street. The blasts hit the Rider in the shoulder, then in the leg, then continued to blast away at its body. It mattered none, the Ghost Rider rearing back with the chain and slashing it downwards. The Rider dipped to the right, the Hellfire Chain cutting the chariot in half. Its burning remains crashed and scattered across the road. The second chariot chose instead of dive-bombing the Ghost Rider like its ally had to hover in place, firing several bolts and blanketing the street where the Rider stood in black and blue eruptions from the blaster fire. And for a moment, the Chitauri believed to have been successful. The smoke cleared, and a chain shot through it, impaling the two Chitauri standing on the chariot straight through their skulls. Growling softly, the Ghost Rider ripped its arm away, yanking the Hellfire Chain as well. The chariot teetered to the left and crashed on the sidewalk, erupting into a flurry of flame. The Spirit stared into the fire where the chariot once remained, where the aliens were but burning corpses. Slowly, it looked back to the city, to the hundreds of other chariots, starships, and alien serpents filling the skies and demolishing Los Angeles. Then, in quick successions, the U.S. soldiers Reyes had ran past earlier proceeded to run past the Ghost Rider, completely ignoring him and rushing straight into the fire and death. Straight into the war. The Ghost Rider watched them, whipping the Hellfire Chain across its shoulder and wrapping it tightly around. Their war would continue. The Rider's war was elsewhere. Kicking down the front door, the Ghost Rider entered into Reyes’ home. The smoke alarms began to cry out as the Rider slipped through the kitchen, its glowing eyes searching back forth, staring down the dark halls and looking through each room. Then it stopped. Still hearing the chaos unfold in the world outside, the Ghost Rider listened even more carefully than that. It could hear it, the frantic beating of a heart nearby. Slowly tilting its head to the closet at the end of the hallway, the Rider approached it, apprehensively reaching for the handle. Gripping it, turning it, opening it. The Ghost Rider stared down onto the fearful expression of Gabriel Reyes. He sat in his wheelchair, huddled in the corner under the coats to keep himself as secure as possible from the madness falling down outside. He spun his head around, eyes widening at first to see the Ghost Rider. Then it clicked. “Robbie?” The flames consuming the Ghost Rider began to simmer down, the brightest fires on its skull being that of the vivid veins rushing down its forehead. Even those began to dim. The last lights that burned on its face were the orange in its eyes, and even those faded away when the skin merged across the skull, the hair returned to normal, and Robbie Reyes took full control of his body once more. Watching with eyes filled with fear and wonder, Gabe breathed a sigh of relief. “Robbie… I thought you were dead!” “You won’t have to worry about that,” Robbie said, breathless. He bent down and practically tore his brother from his wheelchair, gripping him in the tightest hug he could manage. He still gave an easy one regardless, knowing his enhanced strength. “I knew you’d be here. Who brought you home?” “It was S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Gabe replied, Robbie breaking the hug and staring him right in the eyes. “You know, Daisy and all of them. They said they’d keep a close eye on me.” Robbie looked to be in thought, as if he was processing the intel given to him from his brother. S.H.I.E.L.D. was still involved with their lives. Robbie mentally cursed at that. Then again, they still managed to keep Gabe safe for so long, especially with how long Reyes had been gone. If anything, he could thank them for that. “Where have you been, Robbie? It’s been like a year since I’ve seen you.” Then came the question similar to his own thought process at the moment. Robbie thought back to where exactly he had been. He spent the last year searching for a safe haven for the Darkhold in Hell, fending off as many demons that crossed his path, and getting sidetracked again and again when the Spirit found those who deserved worse fates than what they were given in Hell. As if the Ghost Rider could offer a punishment worse… And he did. Every single time. Robbie shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, blinking several times. Standing back up, Robbie grabbed Gabe’s wheelchair and spun it around, pulling him out of the closet with his incredible strength. “What matters is that I’m here, and I’m gonna get us out of the city and somewhere safe.” Gabe looked back at him, as he gripped the wheelchair’s handles and appeared elsewhere for a moment. “Where?” Gabe asked. “I don’t know,” Robbie muttered, already wheeling Gabe through the halls and towards the living room. “Just somewhere… not here.” Slowly facing forward, Gabe just shrugged. “I’ll take it,” he said, staring out into the world beyond their busted down front door. “It’s literally like Hell outside.” You don’t know the half of it, Reyes thought to himself, shaking his head. He lifted Gabe’s wheelchair over the front door, wheeling him out into the blistering sunlight, both brothers shielding their eyes with a free hand. Robbie grumbled, “Let’s get you to the car.” “Robbie…” Slowly dropping his gloved-palm, Reyes’ eyes began to grow. So large. He took in slow, steady breaths as he stared upon the rows of Chitauri chariots surrounding his front lawn. They had their weapons trained on him, the barrels glowing bright blue. In the center of it all, hovering in a starship larger than any of the chariots, a Chitauri Elite growled from within the cockpit, focusing all fire on the two. Gabe watched and listened as their weapons began to heat up, only to witness Robbie moving in front of him, blocking his line of sight with the starship. Robbie simply held out his hand to Gabe, growling very softly, “Stay behind me… and don’t… move.” One of the leading chariots held a Chitauri that raised its claw into the air. Ready to unleash the firepower the Chitauri squadron was capable of. Robbie Reyes barred his teeth, his eyes igniting into a bright, brilliant orange. None of it came to pass. What did was a sleek, black Quinjet passing overhead, its minigun tearing through the horde of Chitauri and blowing them all out of the sky. “Whoa!” Gabe yelled, shielding his head at the sound of the minigun crying out into the air. The burning husks of the chariots and the starship hit the street in front of them, but Gabe didn’t seem to care. He tried to catch another glimpse at the Quinjet somewhere in the sky. “What was that?” Reyes didn’t need to give the Quinjet a second glance when he knew what was coming. His groans were drowned out by Gabe’s awestruck gasp when the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Zephyr One exited out of its cloaking ability, hovering down to the street directly in front of the Reyes’ house. Robbie just shook his head, returning to the wheelchair’s handles and pushing Gabe along. His sighs joined his groans once he saw the ramp of the Zephyr fall open, two particular individuals he knew personally stepping out. To greet them. “Great…” Reyes muttered, wheeling the shocked Gabe past the destroyed chariots. He stopped just at the end of the ramp, watching in silence—with a glare on his face—as Phil Coulson and Daisy Johnson walked forward towards them. Phil, as always, was wearing his shit-eating grin and sunglasses. Daisy, on the other hand, looked as dead serious as she always tried to when standing in the presence of the Ghost Rider. “Mr. Reyes,” Phil began, taking off his sunglasses. “It’s mighty fine to see you again.” Gabe stared directly upwards, still in awe from the Zephyr’s size and height. “Yeah…” Robbie mumbled, gripping the wheelchair’s handles tighter. Gabe’s eyes fell downwards, almost having a double take when he met Daisy’s gorgeous face. She flashed him a warm smile, breaking through the serious attitude. “Hi Gabe,” she said as sweet as ever. Already flustered, Gabe cleared his throat, returning her smile. “Hey Daisy.” “What do you want?” Unlike Gabe, Robbie was blunt, to the point. He had seen enough spectacle to not be affected and simply walk right through it. Or, more accurately, burn right through it. To prevent anything happening to his Zephyr, Phil just smiled to Robbie, holding out his prosthetic hand. “We want to help, and we need your help. It’s kind of a mutual thing—” “We’ll be fine on our own,” Robbie interrupted. He turned Gabe’s wheelchair to the left, already beginning to push him away. “Come on, Gabe.” Gabe tried to object, but Daisy beat him to the punch. “We can offer Gabe a safe environment, a place that not even the Chitauri know about nor can be able to penetrate,” she explained, causing Robbie to pause, and causing a slick smile to grace her features. Slowly, he looked back at her, staring into her eyes and searching for the deceit. And with the power of a certain demonic spirit, that became a specialty for him. When he could find none, Robbie turned his head over to Coulson, who just smiled and wrapped his hands together. “The Lighthouse,” Phil clarified. “State of the art bunker. Built to withstand a nuclear war… and even an alien invasion.” Robbie didn’t look impressed by any means. A shame, because that’s what Phil was kind of hoping for. So, he finished it off by saying, “What I’m trying to say is… we can guarantee Gabe’s safety.” Robbie was having trouble finding trust in the agents. Although he could see no deceit in their eyes, that never necessarily meant they could keep their promises, or their false hopes. Looking down to his brother, he could see Gabe gazing up at him, eyes desperate. Eyes that were still human, unlike Robbie. “What other choice do we have?” Gabe asked. “We take the car and drive as far away as possible.” “Last time we tried to drive away from a fight, you died and I became paralyzed,” Gabe told him. Robbie’s face hardened at that statement, looking away. Gabe pressured him further, his expression becoming more desperate, more pleading. More alive. “Come on, Robbie…” Robbie Reyes never liked S.H.I.E.L.D. They got into business that wasn’t theirs, messed with power beyond their understanding and control, and dealt with evils that could obliterate them in less than a second. Just by the sheer size of the Chitauri army around them, Reyes had little to no faith in S.H.I.E.L.D. to have a concrete plan in order to turn the tides. He would be surprised if they even had a plan at all. And for whatever reason, they needed Reyes and the Ghost Rider to see it through. He just knew. And he gave himself up to them just the same. “So glad we could come to an agreement,” Phil said, still holding the knowing smile. Reyes didn’t even look at him, hauling Gabe up the ramp and into the Zephyr. Phil joined him, saying, “By the way, the whole Darkhold thing, did you—?” “Taken care of,” he confirmed to him. Daisy took Gabe away from Reyes, nodding to him to assure Robbie that she would handle him with care. He watched Daisy roll Gabe deeper into the Zephyr, turning back to Phil. The relief in Coulson's eyes were so genuine, as was the smile widening on his face. “Great,” he said, sighing heavily at the end. Another weight off his shoulders. As the ramp closed behind them, both Phil and Reyes could feel the Zephyr begin to rise. Phil turned back to Reyes, realizing just how long it had been since their last meeting. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. First, there was this huge White Monolith—” “Coulson,” Robbie interrupted him, not at all interested in their adventures in his absence. If he was going to be a part of their “saving the day” plan, then he needed to know the facts. He needed to understand just the size and scale that the alien invaders had in their arsenal. So, he stepped in front of Coulson, looked him square in the eye, and said, “All I need to know is what’s happening out there.” Phil smiled again. Reyes was really starting to hate that smile. “Oh, you know, just the end of the world.”