More advance chapters on P@treon.com/Saintbarbido.
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(General P.O.V)
The convoy rumbled down the streets of Gotham, a gloomy atmosphere hanging over it.
Michael sat in the back of the armored van, his wrists bound with reinforced restraints.
His head rested against the cold metal wall, mind racing with a mix of anger and despair.
How could it have come to this?
After everything he'd been through, everything he'd fought for, the Justice League had taken the Ghost Rider from him, leaving him broken and powerless.
His vengeance...unfulfilled.
Outside, the streets were packed with people.
Gothamites had gathered to catch a glimpse of the Ghost Rider, the infamous figure who had terrorized the city's criminal underworld.
They didn't know the truth, of course. They couldn't. To them, he was still a myth, an urban legend who had instilled fear in the hearts of criminals and brought justice to the streets in ways Batman never could.
Now, they thought they'd see him defeated, chained like an animal. And Michael had no energy to even hold up his head.
"Damn it," Detective Gordon muttered from the front seat of the convoy.
He glanced at the mass of people blocking their path and scowled.
"How did this leak out? I swear, if I find out one of my officers spilled the beans…"
Gordon's frustration was palpable, but it didn't change the fact that the convoy was moving at a slug's pace.
The police were trying to push the crowd back, but Gotham's residents were stubborn.
"Don't believe for one second, that they're here to protest against your arrest."
Harvey, guarding Michael with a swat unit in the back of the Van, told him, adding,
"They're here to witness the downfall of a legend."
Michael kept his gaze on the floor, silent as a grave.
His thoughts circled back to the fight.
He had underestimated the Justice League, thinking they could do nothing against the Ghost Rider's power.
He should have remembered that Batman excelled in winning against stronger opponents.
He even brought in Constantine, someone just as tactically shrewd as the Dark Knight himself. That should have been the first clue it wasn't a simple trap.
Adding the Rider's own strange reluctance to hurt the heroes, Michael had lost.
Let alone the Rider, J'onn was taken from him too.
His hands were then bound in cuffs and now he was sitting in the back of a truck, having to endure the gloating expression on the pig in front of him.
His hands curled into fists.
It was prison for him now.
A fitting destination for a man without a purpose. Without the Rider, revenge was a hopeless dream.
And yet...the hatred in his heart remained bitter and heavy. Sarah had always told him he sucked at letting things go.
'If only there was a way to get It back...'
He thought, fanning his dimming hope.
But even with his enhanced physique, the cuffs on him were special. Designed for a metahuman. There was no way to tear them apart, making escape that much difficult.
The van lurched to a halt, and Michael blinked, drawn from his thoughts.
On the path leading to the GCPD, the whole convoy came to a standstill.
The noise outside was deafening, the voices of the crowd merging into a chaotic roar of 'Let the Rider Go!'
And through the glass window, Michael even caught a sign that said, 'Ghost Rider for Mayor.'
For a moment, he felt a pang of sour humor. They didn't know what they were cheering for.
They didn't understand that the Ghost Rider wasn't some hero of Justice or some Villain of the week.
It was never about good or bad for him.
The Rider was the Tool to enact his revenge. Saving Gotham was a byproduct. It did feel good to have some support though.
But none of it mattered now. He was no longer the Ghost Rider.
Then, as if to punctuate his sense of hopelessness, the world went still.
The voices outside faded, and inside the van, Harvey and the swat team went immobile, frozen in time.
The cold air inside grew colder still, and Michael felt a chill run down his spine.
He looked up, and standing before him was a figure cloaked in green, his eyes glowing with a pale, unearthly light.
The Specter.
His hope reignited. He could still fix things! He could-
"You have failed, Michael," the Specter said, his voice like a death knell. "The flame of vengeance is gone from you, and soon it will be banished from this world entirely. The Justice League are planning to exorcise it from Batman."
Michael felt a lump form in his throat. "You… you have to stop them!"
"It is too late," the Specter said, his tone cold and unfeeling. "The Ghost Rider's power is no longer yours to command. At midnight, under the full moon, the Spirit will return to it's Dimension."
Michael clenched his fists, his body trembling with frustration. "Then get me out of here! I'll stop them. I'll punish them all!"
The Specter's expression remained unmoved. "I refuse. Your grief and sorrow called to me, but now you're hollow. A man fallen into his hatred, drunk off a power that you never made your own. I have helped as much as I should, now you must accept the consequences."
The words cut deep.
The Specter's presence faded, leaving Michael alone once more.
Time resumed its course, and the noise of the outside world rushed back into the van. But inside, Michael felt dead. It was really...over.
The happy faces of his family faded from his mind, replaced with the memory of their bloody corpses.
The convoy finally arrived at Gotham PD.
"Time to move."
Harvey said, the van's doors swinging open.
"Make a move and I won't care about orders, we'll pump you full of lead. Wear this."
Michael quietly put on the beanie and balaclava which covered his mouth, hiding his identity. He was then roughly shoved out outside, his eyes blinking as cameras flashed their way.
"Damn reporters. Like a pack of Hyenas."
Gordon cussed at the press standing outside the station's entrance.
"Let's go."
Michael obediently followed after the Detective, head bowed and shoulders low. He was flanked on all sides by cops while Bullock pulled the rear.
The police station was an old building with grey stone and a sturdy foundation. On top of the main entrance were the words, Gotham Police Department in bold.
At said entrance, they were met by a fat man with grey hair, who seemed far too pleased with himself.
"Well well, look who's back," The man said with a smirk, taking a sip of his coffee mug.
"Commissioner."
Gordon nodded at him, a slight frustration in his voice.
"Dont give me an attitude Gordon. But I see you've finally caught a big fish, huh?"
He sneered at Michael,
"Ghost Rider, huh? You don't look all that terrifying to me. Guess you'll be sharing a cell with your buddy, Jimmy."
Michael said nothing, but his eyes swirled with a silent dread. A void of emptiness that threatened to suck you in and never let go.
The Commissioner faltered, the cockiness slipping from his face as he met the dead gaze.
And then, Michael smiled...slowly. The Commissioner's smirk vanished in an instant.
He quickly turned to face Gordon,
"T- Take this F- Freak to the holding cell, then come to my office and explain why you planned an operation without informing me."
"Your boss is an asshole."
Michael muttered.
"You should take his job."
Gordon glanced at him and just shook his head, leading the way to the cells.
"For once I'll agree with you."
Bullock whispered to Michael,
"Now keep moving."
A few hallways later, Michael was thrown into a dingy cell, where a familiar face greeted him.
Jimmy, cowered in the corner, head bowed as if asleep.
"You look like shit, Jimmy."
Michael said.
His voice roused him up, the goon's eyes going wide with shock and fear when he saw Michael.
"You…" Jimmy's voice shook. "Boss! What are you doing here?! I heard they were going after the Rider but I didn't think it was possible..."
Michael didn't respond immediately. He simply sat on the hard cot, his head in his hands.
"How did they catch you? Was it Batman?"
"Yeah. He came outta nowhere and next thing I know...I was here.""
Jimmy nodded, swallowing hard as Michael remained quiet.
"I… I'm sorry, Boss...I failed the task you gave me. I couldn't get any info on where the villains are hiding. The Rider got them spooked. Spooked hard. Again...I'm really super sorry boss..."
"Relax, I'm not going to kill you."
Michael snorted, his voice dipped low, barely above a whisper. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's over."
"It's...over?"
Jimmy muttered, confused as to how he was acting.
"I lost my powers, Jimmy old pal. I'm not the Ghost Rider anymore."
Michael revealed, forcing the words through gritted teeth.
Silence settled between them as Jimmy processed.
A minute later, he got up and approached Michael.
Without warning, Jimmy slapped him across the face. "Who the fuck are you? Why are you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself when you should be busting us out? What gives you the right to act weak? You're the goddamn Ghost Rider!"
Despite being slapped, a bitter laugh escaped Michael's lips. "Not anymore. That ship has sailed, Jimmy. And while I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, make like a good little goon and shut up."
Jimmy glared at him, jaw clenched.
"You don't get it, do you? The Ghost Rider… he isn't like Batman. He wasn't just some guy in a suit. He was something else. The criminals in this city? They were terrified of you. Batman's just a man, but you… you are a force of nature. You gave Gothan real hope. You made me believe that things could really change. I'm in this mess coz I chose to work for you, even after you took out my boys!"
He was breathing fast, staring at Michael, waiting for a response. When he received none, a heavy sigh escaped him.
"I guess in the end, you were just another selfish asshole playing the hero..."
"Jimmy I-"
Michael begun.
But then a sudden crackling sound filled the air cutting off his reply.
The temperature in the cell also spiked.
"What's happening?"
Jimmy asked, staring around.
Michael's head shot up as an overwhelming surge of energy coursed through the station.
The walls trembled, and a blinding yellow light pierced through the gaps in the cell, growing intense- something was headed their way.
"Watch out!"
Michael tackled Jimmy just as the cell door violently rattled, bursting open, and through the dust and debris, a glowing ring floated towards Michael, crackling with raw power.
"Michael Anders..." a deep, ominous voice echoed through the air. "You have the ability to instill great fear. Welcome to the Sinestro Corps."
'No fucking way...'
Michael's heart pounded in his chest as the yellow ring hovered before him.
Without hesitation, it slid onto his finger, and the moment it did, a wave of unimaginable power surged through his body.
An alarm suddenly went off in the station.
Floating off his knees, Michael's eyes flared with yellow energy as a new uniform materialized around him—a Yellow Lantern uniform.
The Rider may be gone, but with this power...he just had to take back what was his.
And he didn't need the Specter or anyone else to do it.
"Get Up Jimmy, we got work to do."
Okay, maybe just 1 person.