//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: Hotter Than Hell // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// Sunset was once again dry and parched the morning after.  She managed to clean up enough to be dressed and presentable when Silver knocked on the door that Saturday morning. Silver had an entire sack of muffins, plus a couple of breakfast sandwiches with bacon.  Sunset went to take the bag from her but paused.  Silver stood there, all by herself in the cold.  After a moment, Sunset tilted her head to gesture Silver inside. At the kitchen table, Silver watched, seemingly fascinated, as Sunset destroyed her breakfast, lubricating the already salty meat with soy sauce.  Maybe that wasn’t the greatest condiment when she was trying to rehydrate, but Silver kept filling her drinking glass with water. Not having expected to be invited inside, Silver fidgeted.  She suddenly asked, “What happened last night?” Sunset was chewing, but shot her a look. “I heard something happened at the pawn shop,” Silver said, though her voice was softer now as if she was having second thoughts about starting the conversation.  “People in the school group chats are talking.” “What does it matter to you?” Sunset asked. “It doesn’t really, it’s just...whatever you’re doing, aren’t I supposed to help?” Sunset paused to meet her eyes.  Initiative, now that was something.  She’d initially taken on Silver because she was easy to manipulate yet more competent than most, but hadn’t grown to expect the girl to ever go above-and-beyond. Sunset considered it.  How could Silver help with this? “I might have something for you to do,” Sunset said.  “But for now, since you’re here, the principal wanted me to escort some new transfer students on Monday.  Let’s talk about what we’re going to do about that, and also for the Spring Fling.” When Silver left later that morning, Sunset felt that she had a firm grip on her schemes to be the Princess of the Spring Fling.  Though, she wasn’t so optimistic that she didn’t plan for contingencies.  Particularly now that the Spirit of Vengeance was with her, there were many wrenches that could be tossed into many gears.  But it also lent her a few options for fixing that. So she wasn’t entirely surprised when Mac walked in uninvited that late afternoon.  The door was unlocked - Sunset hadn’t bolted after Silver - but she hadn’t planned on such audacity. Sunset didn’t make any attempt to conceal her contempt for the uninvited guest, even as he dropped into the chair across the table from her.  She did decide to leverage what she could to make him uncomfortable, though, and picked up a cube of alfalfa from her snack dish, chewing without breaking eye contact. Mac’s eyebrows went up and he snorted, which wasn’t the reaction for which Sunset had hoped, but better than nothing.  He said, “Even if ya ain’t human, Ah didn’t figure yer tastes were that unusual.” “So what do you think I am?” Sunset asked, partially to be difficult, partially to gauge what Mac might know about other worlds. He tilted his head back and forth while staring at her.  “Ah saw somethin’ strange in the fire.  Ya some kinda horse?” Whether he meant to or not, it got a reaction out of Sunset.  She would have corrected him with species, but by now knew that to humans ponies were merely small horses.  So, attempting to maintain whatever method she could use to keep him off balance, said, “I am a unicorn.” He grinned.  “Ya actually are?  Never met a Rider before who was also a steed.” Sunset dove across the table at him, hands going for his throat.  She almost made it, too, if Mac hadn’t kicked the table into her from below, knocking her off trajectory and upsetting most of her kitchen in the process. Sunset scrambled up, but managed to temper her rage.  Mac was alert now.  “Do you want to take this somewhere else?” she snarled, also thinking about the condition of her apartment. “Was hopin’ you’d ask,” Mac said.  He turned for the door.  “Meet me at the junkyard.” As angry as she still was, this was already reminding Sunset of the last time she’d met him there.  At some point, an intelligent person like her needed to stop beating her face against the wall and find a new strategy.  Sunset wasn’t a meathead, but knew she was acting like it.  How was Mac so good at baiting her to act with her pride?  Because he knew she’d rather die than admit she needed help and guidance? Was that a weakness? It was a tense moment, but Sunset decided that no, it wasn’t.  She wouldn’t be satisfied with any outcome she didn’t create herself.  She wouldn’t be beholden to anyone, for anything.  Not anymore. Down at the junkyard, with night falling, Sunset stepped off her bike.  After she cut the engine, the silence was...well, it was a city, even at night it wasn’t totally quiet.  But it was quiet enough.  She didn’t think they would be disturbed. Though, as Sunset walked in, she picked up the feeling of someone else there.  It was the same signature she got from a potential target of the Rider.  She consciously tamped down on the smoke that had started to waft from her skin. Mac was waiting.  There was someone slung across the rear fender of his bike, bound and gagged. “Brought someone to help with your motivation,” Mac said.  The man began to struggle, but Mac casually backhanded him and he went limp again. “What did he do?” Sunset asked. “Dunno, some white collar shit,” Mac said, shrugging. “That’s enough to be considered evil?” “Ah don’t make the rules ‘bout who meets the cutoff.  Maybe it’s possible to murder someone and not be evil; maybe it’s possible to steal some money yet be evil.  Riders don’t sow, we just reap.”  Mac patted the man on the back.  “But if he’s here, ya ought to be able to Rider-up.  Ah’m gonna make you work for it, though.” Sunset had been consciously holding back the fire, but now fanned the flames within her.  But before she could finish, while her skin was still aflame and burning, a fiery boot kicked her in the gut and knocked her across the junkyard. She slammed into - through - a car and severely dented another on the other side.  Sunset was caught between the need to gasp in pain and no longer having lungs to do it.  She managed to extricate herself from the wreck, looking back along her path of flight to see that the car she’d gone completely through still had the edges of the hole glowing from heat.  Mac, or the Rider that looked like him, stood beyond. Knowing well that rushing him would only end as it always had, Sunset managed to retain some of her calculation, even as her body had gone to the flames.  The whip she’d taken from Blair was in her hand, but she didn’t know how it had gotten there.  No time to wonder.  She cleared the car ahead of her with the mere thought of a jump, and raised her arm for a strike. To her surprise, Mac actually let the whip crack against his forearm and coil around.  Sunset pulled with all her strength - and it wasn’t enough.  Mac stood firm, she stumbled forward - right into his fist coming to meet her.  Sunset had time to see it, but not enough time to avoid it before it crashed into her face. She hit the end of the length of whip and rebounded.  There was nothing she could do to change her momentum, no way she could avoid another of Mac’s fists.  But operating on instinct alone, she opened her mouth, jaws wider than she expected, and met Mac’s fingers, clamping down. That actually seemed to surprise him, and Sunset was mildly proud of herself that she managed to hang on with her teeth until he pitched her straight up in the air and then down to slam her body across his knee. Even as it hurt, Sunset evaluated herself.  Where had she gotten that idea?  Even a little pony’s jaws were far stronger than a human’s.  Mac might know what she really was, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do about it. The power of the Ghost Rider, the Spirit of Vengeance, wasn’t magic, or at least not the Equestrian kind.  But it was power, and could be manipulated, and Sunset wasn’t one of the greatest scholars of magic for nothing. She managed to get free of Mac again, raising the whip.  This time, she actively focused her will, using what she knew of telekinesis and object manipulation.  This time, when she struck, the whip took a different curve, the end zipping aside from where Mac had planned to catch it, only to wrap around his neck. Another surprise, two for two.  Attempting the hat trick, Sunset yanked on the whip again, adding magic.  She didn’t expect to knock Mac down, but used everything she had to bring the two of them together at as high a velocity as possible.  And then, lined up a kick. There was no way to do a proper buck, no way to orient herself, no way to mimic a pony body, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t going to be earthshaking force behind it.  To Sunset’s surprise, she actually succeeded.  Her heels hammered into Mac’s chest and nearly folded him in half, seeming to actually expel fire from his body.  But - that was her last success.  Even as he absorbed the full force of her attack, Mac wrapped her into a crushing bear hug and piledrove her into the ground. Ghost Rider or not, at some point Sunset had to give.  She might not have had flesh to bruise, but there was only so much punishment she could soak up.  And without knowing her limits, she didn’t realize until that moment that she had reached them. Her flames began to die along with her strength.  She managed to struggle to stand up, only to be seized around the shoulders by Mac.  He lifted her clear of the ground and then the greatest pain yet shot through Sunset as he impaled her on a particularly sharp piece of metal jutting from the stacks of junk cars. She hung there, feet not touching the ground, and probably only alive because her guttering flame still struggled on.  She vaguely realized this was probably the same place he had impaled her the last time they were in the junkyard, but couldn’t manage to be angry about it. “Well…” Mac said, his own flame going out.  He stretched as he stood before her.  “Looks like ya ain’t just a one-trick pony.  Got a long way yet to go, though.” Sunset resented his praise; she knew she had done better than before.  She wasn’t much in a talking mood, though. “Wanna know what Ah think ya need?” Mac said.  He turned and picked up a discarded car mirror from the ground.  He turned to show her.  Sunset’s reflection, despite the fire about her head, looked...weak.  Sunset told herself it was simply because she was so injured, disregarding the circumstances that led to it. “Look,” Mac said.  “That look like a Ghost Rider?  Ya ain’t tryin’ hard enough.  What ya need is a better reason.” “Why does everybody keep telling me I’m not good enough?” Sunset managed, barely able to summon the breath to speak.  “I’ve done more than any of you to get where I am.” “Just what did you sell your soul for?” Power.  Because she wasn’t good enough by herself.  But Sunset would rather die right here than admit it to Mac’s face.   He seemed to see right through her, though.  “Apparently nothin’ special, then.” “Oh?  And what did you get out of the deal, in exchange for becoming a Ghost Rider?” Sunset shot back, coughing up a little blood in the process.  Blood? Mac actually glanced away, which almost surprised Sunset more than anything.  “Same way most Riders get in.  Ain’t nothin’ more powerful than love, the greatest recruiting sergeant into our Hellish ranks.” Love!?  How dare he!  Nobody knew more about it than Sunset; she’d been Princess Celestia’s student, and knew how useless and hypocritical it was.  So many lessons that turned out to be utter tripe. Sunset was gratified to see that her fire actually did grow brighter in her anger, but no matter her fury, she still remained helpless. Mac looked at her for a long moment, and then unceremoniously grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her down.  Sunset hit the ground on her hands and knees, wheezing and coughing as the flames went out. “‘Least ya deserved it,” Mac said.  “Lucifer mostly takes advantage of people too desperate to say no.” “What-” Sunset gasped, still unable to raise her head. “Ya don’t actually trust him?” Much as she’d like to be defiant again, Sunset had to admit that at least Mac had been pretty upfront in all their interactions.  That didn’t mean she trusted him, but he was right, Lucifer was even less trustworthy.  Not that Sunset trusted anyone. “Ah ain’t gonna beat you any more today,” Mac said.  “Do the Penance Stare on that guy, and let’s get outa here.” Was that what it was called?  It only reminded Sunset just how little formal training she had received for this job.  Well, she could at least take pleasure in crushing someone weaker than her, for once. The flames ignited again, and somehow hurt worse than the injuries she already had.  Sunset didn’t delay any further, merely walking over to the captured man and turning him over to see his terrified face.  “Look into my eyes.” Much as she felt like spending all of the next day recuperating, Sunset had at least taken one lesson from Mac: she needed to do more.  She was still learning about the Spirit of Vengeance.  She was still growing into her powers.  There was much left to do. But she was stronger than she had been.  No, after the humbling she’d gotten, probably still not strong enough to show up Celestia.  But that didn’t mean there weren’t a few others she couldn’t pick off in Equestria. The idea of going back there came to her suddenly.  Sunset sat up in bed the next morning, throat parched, body still hurting, but unable to shake the notion. Her mind went through what she knew about the portal between worlds.  It was currently open now.  She would have to be at school Monday morning to meet the transfer students she would be escorting and also continue her campaign for Princess of the Spring Fling, but that still left her a whole day. She hesitated a few seconds longer, then hurried to get ready.