Chapter 1: The Rider

A scream echoed off the walls off of an alley in the slums of Manehatten; as a young mare kicked and screamed, running into the alley as fast as her hooves could take her. Behind her a group of Diamond Dogs followed her; taking their time to enter the ally. Each of the dogs were laughing, giving out low wolf whistles as they followed her. They knew the alley was a dead end, having used it many times before for the, activities, they enjoyed in the presences of a young mare; or any poor soul that attracted their interest.

She knocked over trashcans as she ran, a desperate attempt to slow down her attackers, but they had all the time in the world to slowly stock their prey, enjoying her useless efforts to escape them. Reaching the end of the alley, she looked around frantically, desperate to find a way out as fear and adrenaline washed through her.

“Shut up, ya little bitch!” one of them laughed, grabbing her mane and pulling her towards him. She screamed out at the sensation of pain, kicking back at the dog who had grabbed her. The others just kept laughing as another of the Diamond Dogs paced over to her. His fur was a light grey, an eye patch covering his left eye, and several deep scars crossing his body.

“Oh, don’t tell her to shut up,” he said, laughing as he out stretched his paw and cupping the mare's chin, forcing her to look at him. Tears rolled down her face as she was forced to look at her attacker, trying to shake him off. “I love it when they scream,” he said, as the dogs behind him broke into laughter

“Get away from me you creep!" She screamed, trying to wrench herself free. "Help! Somepony help me! Please!” she shouted, as she kicked the leg of the dog who had grabbed her by the mane. He let go of her like a red hot skillet, howling out in pain at the mare's kick. She took the opportunity to try to overpower the one that was holding her by the chin, but he was all to ready, moving his paw to her neck and slamming her into the floor.

“Now that wasn't very nice" he laughed, holding her down as the others started to circle around them. “There is no one coming to aid you, we run this street. Do you know how many times we have done this?” he asked her, slapping her as he spoke. “They know all to well who we are, and what will happen if they interrupt us,” he said, grinning the entire time, watching the fear grow in her eyes. “Now, just be a good little whore and let us have our fun,” he said, as he began to move behind her.

“I-I’m no-not a wh-whore!” the mare stammered out, kicking wildly as her attacks, but the leader of the pack had her pressed to the ground and were much stronger than her.

“Oh? Well after this, we will have to make you one,” he laughed, “And after what you did to Chasser, I think he should go next don’t you think so Chass—”

“Urk!” Each of the dog snapped their heads around at the sound, looking for the source. Many of them already pulling out knives or blunt instruments on pure reflex. Behind them, the one known as Chasser was clawing at his neck, his eyes wide as he tried to get a single fidget under the object that had him. He coughed and gasped as he clawed at the object, looking at each of his pack as he was hauled backwards and out of the ally; being taken out of sight by the unknown force

As soon as Chassser was pulled out of sigh, an explosion of orange flames erupted from the mouth of the ally. The smell of burning flesh waffled through the air, followed by the sent of sulfur, a rattling of chains breaking the silence that had come over the shocked pack. Each of the dogs stepped back from the exchange, eyes wide-in as they looked to one another, none knowing what had just transpired. For several seconds nothing could be heard, except the rattling of chains being dragged across the ground.

“Well? Go get the wannabe hero!” The leader of the pack shouted, pulling the mare in front of him, pushing a knife to her throat. "Show these sheep why we rule these streets! Why non disrespects us!" He commanded, holding the mare close to him, using her as a shield as the knife stayed trained on her throat. The remaining members of his pack looked back at him, before taking a uniformed step forward together. Just as they did, the rattling of the chains stopped.

“Hungry,” a voice called out, raspy and hollow. “So very hungry,” the voice called out again, as an orange light started to illuminate the entrance of the alleyway. The sound of hoof falls filled the air, followed by the spacing of metal against stone. As the hoof falls got closer, of the dogs backed up, his breathing becoming more frantic with every breath as the light got closer. He dropped the pipe he was carrying with him, taking several hurried steps backwards till he was against the brick wall of the ally's dead end.

"I told you! I told you it was a bad idea to go out tonight! They said he was back! That he was back in town!" He cried out, shaking visibly as he watched the orange light approach. "Please forgive me! Oh merciful Sisters! Please forgive me!"

“Shove it!” the dog with the eye patch shouted. “That's not him! He's not real! Just some punk who thinks he can intimidate us!” he shouted, pointing his knife at the orange light. "Kill him! Kill this piece of shit! Send a message to remind them who is in charge!" He commanded, as two of the dogs stepped forward, though they were shaking as well, their paws trembling with their weapons. As the stepped forward, a pair of chains came shooting out of the darkness of the ally, wrapping themselves around the two dog's neck.

Each of them gave yelped upon contact, before being yanked back towards the darkness. The sound of hoof falls never stopped, as the two dogs screamed out in unmistakable fear; just as a flash light illuminated them. They were being held several feet off the ground as the flash of light turned into orange flames that encompassed the entire bodies in mere seconds. They didn't even have time to scream out in pain, as the chains jerked and the snapping of bone echoed off the ally walls. The chains whipped back and forth, before throwing the charred remains of the dogs close to their leader, smoke rising up from their remains.

“Tainted souls, stained by the blood of the innocent," the figure said as he approached, the flames growing brighter with each step, casting light upon the figure as he approached.

“Please... please forgive me... I... I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" The dog who had backed up cried, tail between his legs, covering his eyes with is paws. "Oh Sisters... show me mercy! Please!"

“Shut up! Just shut up!” The others said, tightening his grip on the mare in his paws, pressing the knife against her neck more. She gave out a whimper, as the blade cut her slightly, blood trickled down her neck. "Don't you dare come any closer! You hear me?! I will slit her fucking throat! I've killed before, and I will do it again!"

The figure stopped where he stood, the light dimming as he stood there, watching the dog; he chuckled at the figure holding the knife against the mare's neck even firmer now. "See? That's a good little hero, now you stand right there or the blood of this filly is on you." He said, voice low and brimming with laughter. "Don't want that, now do we?"

As he spoke, the blood from the mare's neck dripped down her neck, slowly making its way down onto the dog's paw pooling there. He gave his paw a light shake, sending the blood from his paw and onto the ally floor.

Fire exploded out from the figure, orange flames bursting into life before the two dogs and mare. Bright and brilliant, illuminating all the darkness around them, but none so much as the flame's master. Before them stood a pony wearing a leather jacket, metal spikes protruding from his shoulders and forearms. Chains were wrapped around his forelegs around, while a set of chains emerged from his back whipping back and forth as though alive; but what really drew them all in was where the flames were coming from. Where a head should have been was the skull of a pony, a horn made of metal dawned his forehead, cracks surrounded the metal horn as though the spike had burst out of the skull. His eyes were empty sockets glowing with orange flame as he starred down at where the blood had been split.

"Oh stars above!" The cowering dog shirked, looking up at the figure before them. "Ghost Rider!" His voice was high and shrill, as he the Ghost Rider just kept starring down at the blood, head cocked to one side.

"Sh- shut up!" The other said, keeping the mare close to him, who was shaking even harder now. "The Ghost Rider is just a myth! A legend! He can't be real, he just can't be!" Ghost Rider looked up at the leader of the pack, his head cocking the other way. In a blink, one of the chains on Rider's back shot forward, wrapping itself around the coward's neck.

All the dog do was kick and give breathless screams as Ghost Rider dragged him closer. He clawed at the ground, trying to slow the dragging of Rider's chains. All that he did was break his claws on the stone ground, leaving a trail of blood as he desperately tried to claw his way to safety. His efforts were in vain, as he was brought to Ghost Rider, who slammed his hoof down upon the dog's chest, leaning in close so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"Look into my eyes," Ghost Rider said, in that raspy tone as the dog below him locked eyes with Ghost Rider. All the dog could do was Weep uncontrollably as he was force to lock eyes with Ghost Rider. A trail of orange sparks seeped out of the dog's eyes and into Rider's, adding to Rider's flame growing brighter with each passing second. Slowly, Rider pulled away from the stare, letting out of a long sigh of satisfaction, as the dog below him went limp. His chest still rose and fell in a steady pace, but the dog made no other movement beside that.

"What did you do to him!" The leader of the pack demanded, keeping the mare between him and Ghost Rider. "Stay away from me! You hear? Stay away from me!" He shouted, trying to backup as well, trying to get away. Though like those he had cornered into this ally before, he was trapped, unable to find a way to escape the demon before him. Ghost Rider turned to the last of the dogs, stepping over the fallen one before him without taking further notice of the dog. The chains upon his back rattled, striking out like cobras as he drew closer, eyes never breaking from the other dogs.

"Get back! I will kill her! I will!" He shouted again, as he shook more violently now, the mare whimpering in pain as the knife dug into her flesh. Rider gave a low snort, as a chain once more lashed out with blinding speed and wrapped around the hilt of the knife, pulling it away and flying through the air. In the distance, the knife's blade clanked against the ground as Rider drew closer. The dog shook even more now, pushing the mare towards Rider in a last ditch effort. "You want her? You can have her! She's all yours! Just spare me! Please!" The mare fell before Ghost Rider, staring up at him, eyes wide with tears forming in them.

Ghost Rider looked down at the mare, once again cocking his head. "Innocent" he breathed out, before stepping over her and towards the last of the dogs. He had fallen backwards, holding his paws over his face as he shook. Tears were freely flowing from his good eye, as the eye patch became soaked in tears.

"Pl-please..." Ghost Rider's chains wrapped around the dogs neck and lifted him off the ground, holding him to the wall still, till he was on eye level with Ghost Rider. Raising one bone hoof up, he ripped the eye patch off the dog's eye and let it drop to the ground. He held the dog there for several seconds, taking in the dog's appearance, the fear, the crying, and shaking, admiring it all.

“Look into my eyes,” Ghost Rider growled, as the dog had no other choice but to stare into the empty pits. As he did, he felt himself being dragged into those empty eyes, into the flames and felt as though every inch of his body was set alight. His ears were filled with the sound of screaming, the pleas of his victims, the screaming and crying of their loved ones and all those affected by his crime. His vision flooded with those memories, but also the pained looks of his victim's families and friends, the tragedy that followed his crimes every wrong he had ever done on display, and showing him, making him feel their effects.

“Guilty,” Ghost Rider whispered, as orange sparks poured out of the dog's eyes, and into Rider's. He pulled the tainted soul into him, feeding off its essence, taking in the power of it all. He savored every little detail, taking in the dog's pain and feeding his powers with it. The flames around his skull grew brighter as he fed, till the sea of sparks ended and Ghost Rider let the dog drop to the floor before him.

Rolling his neck, a course of bones popping filled the ally as the chain unwrapped itself from the dog's neck, letting the limp form fall before him. Just as the other dog, this one was still breathing but his eyes were wide, with no pupil or iris at all; just pure white. Shaking himself off, Ghost Rider turned to the entrance of the ally again, only to find the mare before him, still shaking in fear. Snorting, Ghost Rider walked past her and out of the ally; not casting a single glance back at her or his victims. Instead, he took in a deep ragged breath and gave a high pitch whistle.

In return, the sound of a engine came to life nearby, roaring with power. The sound of wheel screeching soon followed as the engine moved up in gears as a crimson light filled the ally. Standing a few feet away from Ghost Rider was the profile of a motorcycle, engine revving up every few seconds as though it was impatient, but there was no soul upon the motorcycle to rev the engine at all. This didn't bother Ghost Rider, as he got onto the motorcycle and rested his hooves upon the handle bars. He looked back into the ally one more time, seeing the mare still laying there, eyes wide as she watched Ghost Rider.

"Find a better neighborhood," Rider growled out, before revving the engine again and taking off into the night, leaving a trail of fire behind him.
--
Macintosh Apple awoke several hours later, getting to his hooves with a start, berating heavily and covered in sweat. His green eyes darted around the room, looking like some kind of run down shack from the condition of the room. He didn't have time to look for details, his mouth was beyond dry, shaking in dehydration as his eyes scanned everywhere for relief.

Relief came to him in three milk jugs sitting upon a dresser nearby, each filled to the brim with what he could only hope was water. Mac staggered towards the first jug, and nearly ripped the lid off the container before pouting the constant into his mouth. Even with how big his mouth was, water sloshed all around and found its way to the floor as Mac chugged what did manage to get into his mouth. He drained the contents of the first jug within moments, casting it away before grabbing the next jug. This one he was considerably nicer with, bringing the jug to his lips first before chugging its contents.

The jug was halfway gone before Mac pulled it away, giving out a satisfied sigh as he placed it on the dresser. He dragged his foreleg across his mouth, wearing the same leather jacket he had been wearing for the last few years, but no spikes in sight. Shaking his damped head back and forth sending droplets of water everywhere.

“Thanks, bastard,” Mac said in a low growl, now getting a bearing of where he was. What he had preserved to be a shack wasn’t a shack, but instead a extremely run down motel room. He was thanking his lucky stars that he had passed out on the floor, as his eyes found the queen sized bed in the room. The top cover of the bed looked as though it had been used to cover a body with the amount of peculiar stains on it, with others Mac didn't even want to think about. Compared to the bed, the floor looked as though it had been cleaned by a professional service.

Shaking his head of thoughts of what the stains might have been, he began to stretch his aching body out, stretching out his powerful hind-legs, before looking for the bathroom for morning relief; though with the state of the room he didn't want to find out how the bathroom fared. Entering the bathroom he was greeted with a terrible stench, as well as the all to appealing sight of the wall sweating out some yellow substance that looked toxic by ever sense of the word. Instead of trying his luck with the toilet, he turned to the mirror to get a good look at himself, feeling like hell and expecting his reflection to reflect that feeling.

He was greeted by the same face he had known all his life, same blond mane, the same green eyes, and a trip of yellow freckles on each cheek. He hated his reflection, the reflection of a stallion who died years ago for making a stupid deal. Growling out as he saw his reflection, he started to gather in his will.

“Ya got magic of yer own, least ya can do is fix me up before ya fade,” Mac said with clenched teeth, staring as his reflection as he did.

The reflection showed more of him, the familiar apple red coat passed down from his dad was ever present, but instead of yoke around his neck he was wearing a black leather jacket. The jacket covered most of his broad back, stopping just short of covering his cutie mark. Unlike the rest of him, his cutie mark was not the same as it had been, instead a large scar covered the mark on his left flank. The skin under the mark was showing, the rest having been burned away leaving the mark forever burned into his body, with the same memories of how he got it scared in his mind.

Gathering more of his will Mac concentrated on the appearance he had taken, the mask he had taken to wearing everyday since that fire, since that terrible deal. Mac pictured that pony in his mind's eye before releasing his will; orange flames appeared across Mac's body, washing over him changing him. It had taken him time to learn to channel the magic of the spirit that lived within him, to use that power for his own to manipulate the world around him, on a very limited scale. He could feel the burning sensation of the magic come over him, he grimaced in pain, but powered through it, a practice he had grown quite used over the years and was now just a mild discomfort.

As the pain faded, Mac opened his eyes once again and looked into the mirror. Instead of Macintosh Apple staring back him, it was a different pony. The pony in the mirror had golden eyes, a mane and tail of pitch black, no freckles to speak of, and a coat of deep maroon. This pony also didn't have a green apple for a cutie mark, instead he had the cutie marks of a bright green fireball.

This pony was Wild Blaze, the drifter.

Feeling better? A voice asked, echoing off the walls of the bathroom. Mac rolled his eyes at the to familiar voice and looked up from looking over the changes, to find the burning skull of Ghost Rider in the mirror's reflection. Any other pony would have turned tail and run from the burning skull of Ghost Rider, or at least jump back in startled fear; but this was just a normal occurrence for Mac and the demon that dwelled within his head.

“Shove it,” Mac growled back at the skull. In return Ghost Rider bust into laughter, though his mouth never moved to indicate such a thing.

Well aren't we testy this morning, the Rider mocked, his empty sockets staring right back at Mac. back, You know, I could have left you nothing to drink this morning. That would have been fun, watching you drink from the toilet like a dog Mac cringed at the thought, not even want to imagine that scenario.

"Lovely,” Mac said with a groan , as he made his way to the door. As he did so, his stomach let out a loud roar of hunger. Turning into a walking skeleton and becoming flesh again didn’t leave much food in one’s stomach. “At least tell me ya took the bits from them. Ah know dying from hunger ain't on the table fer me, but Ah still need food,” Mac said as he started to pat the jacket, looking for any money he had.

I did take some from the first soul, didn’t have time to check the others. Witnesses, The Rider said with a low chuckle, to which Mac only groaned. Mac pulled a pouch out of the jacket's pocket and empty the contents onto the dresser.

“Twenty bits, might be enough for a decent breakfast fer once,” Mac said, "But Ah doubt ya didn't have time... lousy bastard," he said as his stomach growled once more. Pulling open the dresser drawer he retrieved a black saddle bag with the green fireball on it. Taking the saddle bag he pulled out a larger sack and poured the bits into it before slipping it on to his pack along with the jugs of water. “Lets pay fer this crap hole and get on the road,” Mac said out loud, earning a deep chuckle from Ghost Rider

Oh good, maybe we can find a place with darker souls. I need a real meal Rider said in a low growl. Mac ignored Ghost Rider for the most part, as he made his way to the front desk to pay for the stay. Thus was another morning for Macintosh Apple: The Ghost Rider.

Author's Notes:

Edited 3/29/17

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Macintosh Apple: The Ghost Rider. I will be editing the chapters when I get time, so the next few chapters might not be of the greatest quality yet.