The devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat.

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

When; Backdated to Thursday, Nov. 20th, 6:00 sharp
Rating; R
Characters; Johnny Blaze (motorcyclehero), Blackheart (raisemoredevils)
Summary; If you can't send the son of the devil back to Hell for his daddy to deal with, what can you do with him?
Log;


Grace's idle engine sounded almost impatient below Johnny, and he knew the feeling. He asked himself for maybe the fiftieth time what he was doing, was he crazy? There was only one place for the Devil's Son, the Rider knew, and that was in Hell with his pater--but at the same time, this place was somewhere so alien - beyond Hell and Earth entirely. Who was to say a final battle and a toss back into the Pit was even an option here?

He kept watching the entrance to Building 7 like a hawk, contemplating. He thought grimly that this was a situation in which he, Johnny Blaze, could be more effective than the Rider - and that was a terrifying thought.

Comments

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

Between blinks is when Blackheart appears. Why? Because he's a showy jackass, that's why. Plus he's way too cool for doors.

He's, of course, also ten minutes late. Because he can be. Dressed in what he always dresses in, and with a mean glint in his eyes that says he's ready for slaughtering innocents after whatever Johnny insisted upon doing beforehand. Effectively, he looks like his usual majestic self.

He eyes the bike, then Johnny. Probably looks like he'd just as soon eat the mortal as the dinner he's going to buy. "Hello."

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Twitches, but he's faced down speeding trucks and spinning helicopter deathblades, so manages to remain at least outwardly unflappable. This is a reminder to him that as human as Blackheart looks, he's anything but.

"Howdy." Johnny kinda wants to tell him he's late, and that's a bad way to start a date, but he's sure the son of the devil knows.

"You bothered about riding in back?" Better not be, because Blaze isn't letting Blackheart drive.

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

Blackheart has never considered to think of himself as human, so he would balk at the knowledge that it takes flashy little tricks to remind others that he is not.

Tips his head, striding towards the vehicle and its Rider. Mostly just wants to see the reaction, so he smirks and says "Yes."

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Johnny knew it, of course--would be an idiot to expect anything less.

"Now you said you'd do this my way." He raises an admonishing finger, with an expression threatening a pout, "You kept me waiting ten minutes already, and I really hope they still got our table. Now get on."

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

Considers this for a moment, then turns to swing a leg over the back to get on. Certainly not in response to any of Johnny's reasoning, rather because he... didn't really know how to drive the bike were he to (quite easily) kick the mortal off and take the front seat. Oh well, minor details.

Blackheart settles on the edge of the seat, not yet holding on to Johnny's sides. "Well then. Go."

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Well, joy. This'll be at least twice as hard as he thought, and that number seems to be exponentially growing with every minute.

"You're gonna wanna hold on to me; she kicks like a mule." (As amusing as it would be for Blackheart to fall right off the back, it'd quickly stop being amusing once the inevitable following pain started).

"Ride's smooth enough, and she's gutsy, but she corners pretty bad too, and I want us to get to the place all in one piece."

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"There are no legs," Blackheart says, brow wrinkled. He doesn't use vehicles. How should he know what 'kicks' means to a biker? He stares even harder at the next part, as though he's pretty sure Johnny lacks a working brain and is just trying to piece fragments of the language together to look like he's capable of interacting like a normal person. Trying being the operative word. "What are you talking about?"

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Johnny closes his eyes a moment, trying to find his center - one of those books mentioned something about that, anyway. Reminds himself that Blackheart's not familiar with bikes, and turns head slightly to look back at him.

"This bike goes fast. Zero to ninety miles n'ower in a few seconds. You'll fall off if you're not holdin' on."

A pause, and then, "Sorry about not being clear, I forget you're not into bikes."

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"I will not fall," Blackheart says stubbornly. The Rider hardly knows what fast is, he does not move like Blackheart can. Between the flashes of lightening, or blinks of an eye.

Also, did Johnny just apologize to him? Blackheart stares, then stares a little more, before opting simply to not respond. He can't really figure out an offense, unless one counts the man's merciless butchering of language.

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Hear that? That's the sound of Johnny's patience at an end, baby. Keep in mind he's been waiting ten minutes and totally disrespected, and he's tryyying.

But he can't blame the devil's son for doing what he does (mostly because he's Johnny Blaze and enjoys that kind of thing anyway); namely letting out the Rider's spirit, revving up the engine and popping the clutch all in one smooth, impatient moment. Grace leaps forward like a racehorse, eager to get going even as she transforms to the hellcycle as well, and we'll just see who won't fall, Mister.

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

Blackheart's eyes fare wide and his mouth cracks open like it'll stretch across his face, but he manages to keep the screech waiting at the back of his throat down through sheer force of will. Damnit, Rider.

One arm shoots out, wrapping around the bounty hunter's chest, and his fingers catch the lapels of his jacket so he may grip it hard. His other hand is holding the side of his seat, though the blistering heat from the wheels are starting to burn his knuckles. He growls with all the bass of Hell in his throat, however... the effect is somewhat muffled by the fact that his face has been crushed right up against Johnny's back (between the shoulder blades) in his effort to keep from shooting straight off the back of the bike.

"Rider!" he screeches indignantly, tipping his head back so he'll have the room to talk.

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

The stunt-rider's impressed, despite himself; for all his arrogance, Blackheart's actually about as good as he claims to be, at least insofar as reaction time is concerned. Settles slightly forward as the Spirit of Vengeance retreats again into him, Grace smoothly reverting to her mortal form as well, and loses about 30MPH of speed in the process.

"I tried to warn you," Johnny risks a glance back at him, trying to see exactly how angry he is, and adds approvingly, "Least you didn't fall off."

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"I said I would not," he snaps back, salvaging what dignity he can from the situation, before he glances up to find Johnny looking back at him. Suddenly smirking, he loosens his grip on the lapel of the mortal's coat, and slides his hand inside the jacket instead, pressing his palm flat against Johnny's collarbone. "If all you wanted was for me to touch you," he hisses, tilting his head back a fraction farther and letting sulfur seep slowly between their skin from his hand, "all you had to do was ask."

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

If Blackheart wants to press the point home about reacting impatiently, he's certainly doing a good job--Johnny takes both hands off the handlebars, clasping them up against Blackheart's hand and steering with his knees as he concentrates a bright-hot lick of healing hellfire to the affected area.

"Don't do that--" he manages, sparing a hand to steady the bike as the streetcorner comes up, and banking sharply to take the curve, finishing weakly, "...thing."

Somewhat shaken in a way that death-defying stunts couldn't manage, he lets the other hand--bony and hot--linger against Blackheart's without even really noticing it there.

"And I thought the restaurant was gonna be the hard part..."

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"Say please," he growls with all the bass of Hell in his voice, even as his fingers twitch between the Hellfire-hot chest and a flaming skeletal hand. The smirk in his voice is palpable, and elongated teeth flutter against his skin as it tinges darker blue for a quick moment. He seems completely unphased by the shuddering, jerky motions of the bike being steered only by the man's knees, content instead to press against the mortal's leather-clad back and let a scratchy, harsh laugh go quietly next to his ear. "We could just skip right to the entertainment."

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Johnny would need to be deaf, dumb, blind and stupid not to recognize that kind of offer when he gets it, but it coming from Blackheart makes even the Ghost Rider pause. Dangerous at the most benign of times, in fact; the fingertips of his bony hand squeeze slightly against Blackheart's hand, and he finds the next stop sign a welcome relief to take a second's worth of thought.

He decides to test the waters - a practice run, a jump without the cars, so to speak.

"I think we could both stand to learn a little patience, don't you?"

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"Mm-" he rumbles, annoyed again, and shifts back in the seat so he's no longer flush against the man. He was going to be generous to reach down and hold on- well, somewhere else, suffice it to say. Instead he yanks his hand from the Rider's bony grip and grabs hold of the sides of his leather jacket (a bit of frost crackles around his fingers and he turns his nose up.)

"Patience," he sulked sneered, "you sound like the old fool."

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Blaze congratulates himself on batting a thousand--wrong things to say, anyway--and sets off again at a slower pace, nearly there anyway.

"Who, your daddy?" Well, there was an insult of epic proportions.

He leans slightly to the left, coasting down a side street and heading off a different way. "You want to skip dinner?"

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"Cease prattling before I take your tongue out," Blackheart says, lip curling. There's hardly a faster known way to get his heckles up than to talk to him about his Father. Unless that talking was along the lines of 'yeah what a dumbass, you're totally better Blackheart.'

"It was your idea," he utters dismissively, nose still upturned- he had been curious about food, but he didn't want to look like he wanted anything out of this night other than some gleeful slaughtering.

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

That earns the street ahead of Johnny a dubious eyebrow raise; he grins a little at the latter sentence, though, because he suspects there is something the Antichrist wants out of the evening that Johnny also wants; coasts up to the Angelo Amore and brakes, shifting to sit side saddle for a moment and rubbing frost off one shoulder.

"Yeah, it was." For good measure, and just a hint of stubbornness, "Don't regret it yet."

He stands and heads for the building, not bothering to lock up the bike.

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

"... Hmph." He wasn't getting the reactions he was used to, the ones he'd always gotten from the Hidden, but the Spirit of Vengeance was... entitled to his petty outbursts, in at least some sense. Command over Hellfire was something even Blackheart sought and was denied ffff. Instead he swung his legs off the bike and straightened his jacket, striding after Johnny. This had better be worth his while, or he'd just get what he wanted from the man right there in the public restaurant and be on his merry way.

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

Johnny enters with every nerve on prickly edge, worried and wondering if, perhaps, this was a mistake (that'll be the fifty-first time). But he's come too far to back down now, and there was some - rather considerably sized, actually - part of him that really, really wanted to see how this thing worked out. If he could read minds, though, he might have been more hesitant about going in.

He does, though, and is v. pleased to find out their table's not been taken, no thanks to Blackheart's lateness--and heads over to sit, probably getting a few weird NPC looks because he's sans pretty-chick. And the dude he's with is only epicene to a blind man.

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

Finds himself seated at the table, and sliding a glance around the room; watching other people watch them. In any normal situation, he would have already killed them all and moved on, but this situation was irritatingly abnormal.

He found that flicking a glance up and down at whomever he caught the eyes of got them to turn away mighty fast, and the nervous tension he wrought was at least some measure of amusement. He paused from making a few onlookers incredibly uncomfortable to round his stare back on Johnny, having entertained himself for a grand total of what was probably thirty seconds. "Now what?"

[motorcyclehero.livejournal.com]

That little round of intimidation is being watched with an air half of bemusement and half of curiosity - Blackheart wouldn't be pleased to hear it, but being around him makes Johnny's consistently reminded of some kind of genius 4-year-old.

Offers Blackheart a menu, and looks fairly pleased that nothing has blown up yet. "Now you pick somethin' to order. We'll be in and out of here in twenty minutes." To Johnny, that's next to no time at all, but he's getting an inkling that time flows very differently for the Antichrist.

[raisemoredevils.livejournal.com]

He opens the menu and stares. Like he's supposed to know what any of these things even are? He understands which meats are the flesh of which beasts, but throw a word like 'pesto' and 'alfredo' his way and he's just fuckin' lost.

"... You order," he says flatly, eyeing Johnny like suggesting he do the work and pick something out was some kind of grievous offense.