Chapter 2: The Drifter

Mac left the motel and started his way down the already populated streets of Manehattan. Everywhere he looked, there were ponies of every shape and size, either going to work, meeting up with friends, or whatever normal ponies did. He didn’t have a job to go to, or friends to meet with; all he had was a drive, a drive telling him he was hungry.

As he walked along his chosen path, a noticed some ponies giving him a strange looks as he past by, others turning their head to get a second glance. He was still a large built pony, and being dressed the way he was with a leather jacket on, in the middle of spring, and a strange cutie mark, it was hard not to give him a second glance. Most of the stallions that walked past him were in suits, and had a look of disgust of Mac’s appearance, seeing him as a no good punk. Mares, on the other hoof, almost seemed to be gawking at him, and if they were in groups, would point and whisper to one another before giggling.

My, my, my, I always forget what a looker you are, Macky boy, The Rider whispered in Mac’s mind as Mac just kept walking forward, not giving a second glance to any of the mares that looked at him. I have possessed many ponies, but never have I met one that got so many looks as you, or never taking them up on their offer, the Rider laughed. The laugh was annoying to Mac because it would drown all noise in the background.

As much as he would love to tell the Rider that he wasn’t interested in meeting mares while attached to a demon, or the fact that even before now, he had always been the subject of mare gossip, talking to oneself in public was something most ponies found very strange. Even with the Rider’s constant talking, the only thing on Mac’s mind was food, lots and lots of food.

Turning down a familiar street, he saw his target on the far end. A twenty four hour open diner with a pink and yellow neon sign saying Greasy Spoon. The name was a bit off setting, but it was a classic looking diner and was cheap, which was all Mac cared about, but if there was any other diner like this in all of Manehatten, he would rather go there.

With a grunt of displeasure, Mac walked up to the front door and pushed it open, the small bell above the entrance gave a ding to his arrival. Upon walking in the diner one would see a chrome counter stretching the entire length of the diner, stools with red cushion seats spaced out in front of it, and two pie displays showing off freshly baked pies. Along the outer wall, where the counter did not reach were booths with the same red cushions and a set of menus ready for a customer to look over when arriving.

There were only three other ponies in the diner as well. Two of them were stallions at the counter talking to one another, one was a dark orange with an equally dark blue mane while the other was light brown with a bright yellow mane. There there was a lone purple mare with a hot pink mane sitting at a window eating haycakes. Before Mac could take another step inside the diner, a round yellow Earth Pony came in from the back with a paper hat and apron with a few stains on it: the owner of the diner. At once, the pony’s face lit up upon seeing Mac, while Mac ignored him, choosing a booth at random and picking up a menu.

“Why isn’t it my favorite no name none talkative friend!” Greasy Spoon practically yelled, as he made his way across the floor towards Mac. “I have not seen you in what feels like years! How have you been, my friend?” he asked, his voice so cheerful and full of good graces that would make any pony cringe.

Mac didn’t give a reply, or even acknowledge that Greasy Spoon was talking to him as he looked over the menu, even though he had seen in a hundred times before. He didn’t want to talk to the fat Earth Pony, he didn’t want to be friends with the Earth Pony, but, anytime Mac came around, he would make a big deal out of it, as if they were old friends reuniting after years of being apart.

“Oh, I see you have been well, since you are as talkative as ever,” he joked as he turned towards the counter, where another mare had appeared. She was a blue Unicorn mare with a light blue mane dressed in a pink waitress uniform and looking annoyed being there. “Oh Haycakes, can you bring my favorite customer his usual black coffee?” he asked, his voice so sweet and sounding like he was talking to a new born foal.

“Stop calling me Haycakes! I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she shouted back, grumbling as she levitated a coffee pitcher to the coffee machine and began to pour the dark brown liquid into it. Mac raised his eyebrow a little as he looked over at the mare. He remembered her from his previous life, some kind of showmare of some kind that tried to embarrass his sister’s friends. The little reaction did not go unnoticed by Greasy Spoon, who leaned in close to Mac and whispered in his ear.

“My daughter is a real looker, isn’t she? Oh she comes home every once in awhile to get some bits so she can go back on the road as a magician or something like that. I bet if she was to run into a nice stallion of some kind, maybe a dark maroon one, she might give up the life to be a normal housewife,” he said, chuckling at the end as his daughter came over with the pitcher of coffee and mug and placed it on the table with a loud ‘thump’.

“I do not know what this old stallion is telling you, but the Great and Powerful Trixie is loved by many who would give their foreleg to be with her! All of them powerful Unicorns!” she said, turning away and marching back to the counter, not giving her father or Mac a second look.

A real charmer, that one is, the Rider laughed, blocking out whatever Greasy Spoon said next. Mac was almost thankful for the Rider’s loud laugh, he did not need to have this annoying stallion trying to set him up on a date.

“Stack of haycakes and a side scrambled eggs,” Mac said, putting the menu down and looking out the window, trying to cut off all communication with the stallion. This action, however, just caused the stallion to laugh more as he moved back towards the kitchen.

“Is that so? Well business must be going well for you! The last time you were here, you could barely afford a few apples,” Greasy Spoon laughed, his fat stomach jiggling as he did so. “And in celebration of seeing you again, I will throw in a few extra haycakes no charge!” he laughed once more, as he passed through the swinging door to the kitchen.

In Mac’s old life, he would have gotten along great with Greasy Spoon. He was a cheerful pony who saw the good in everypony that walked through those front door of his. Even his daughter, who he must of known was a scam artist, he treated like the little princess he always loved. He and Greasy Spoon would have gotten along well, if the Mac that could enjoy that thing was still alive. This Mac just found him soft, and the next target of some scum that the Rider hasn’t eaten yet.

For the next few moments, Mac could enjoy the semi quietness of the diner as he sipped his coffee. The hot liquid sliding down his throat, not quite filling his ravenous stomach, but at least putting something in there to hold the huger. The two stallions at the counter were talking just loud enough that Mac could make out that they were talking of the latest hoofball game and the Wonderbolts show.

Looking out the window, Mac watched the ponies of Manehatten move about to and fro to get to their destinations. It always seemed that there was a large mass of ponies trying to get somewhere, none of them knowing that, behind a thin piece of glass, a demon was looking for dark souls.

As he looked out the window, Mac could see his yellow eyes looking back at him and, in the reflection, he could see the mare at the other booth looking up at him every so often, and even Trixie was sneaking glances at him. If they only knew what laid behind his skin, what was there, he was sure neither mare would ever want to be a mile radius of him again.

Giving the window another look, he no longer saw his yellow eyes, but the flaming skull of the Rider. He was looking right at Mac, and Mac was sure if he had lips he would be grinning.

Look, I am just trying to help you out here, Macky Boy. You are a stallion, you have certain urges. I get that, and for the last four and a half years you have let me loose upon the night without a fight. I can give you one night of passion in return for that. Come on, you know you want to, the Rider laughed again, truly enjoying the amount of attention Mac got from the opposite sex, and sometimes the same. Mac didn’t like the attention he got back in his old life, and in this one, it was just as bad.

The last five years didn’t do much to make him look worse; something inside of him refused to make him weaker, refused to let the muscles he had gained from years of apple bucking diminish one bit, even though he had not bucked an apple in those five years. Any new strength he kept, not having to work to keep it. All of it was just another reminder of his curse.

“Watching the world go by, one of my favorite pastimes,” Greasy Spoon was back, pulling Mac into the present. Looking over at the Earth Pony Mac noticed he had a large stack of haycakes with him along with the hay bacon and scrambled eggs. “Never know what you might see out there, but always something interesting to look at,” Spoon said, placing the food in front of Mac, who wanted nothing more than to scarf it all down in that instant, but kept himself calm.

“That’s how I met my wife, I was watching the world go by when I saw the prettiest blue unicorn I had ever laid eyes upon,” he said, sitting down across from Mac. Mac gave a grunt, trying to tell the stallion off while he ate, but Greasy Spoon was already far too gone in his story. “Now, I was just an Earth Pony and a diner owner; I was sure she was of the upper crust of society, being a Unicorn and such. But I just told myself, ‘Spoon, a mare like that only comes around once in a lifetime, get off yer flank and talk to her!’ So I made my way over to her, and tripped into a big old puddle of mud,” Spoon said, smacking the table as he started to laugh, making Mac’s coffee slop over the side of his mug.

“Of course, everypony around me started to laugh, pointing at the overweight Earth Pony that just fell face first into the mud, but not her. She walked right right on over and helped me right back up. Though, when she asked me if I was alright, I asked her on a date,” Spoon started to shake his head, remembering his earlier years. Mac, on the other hoof, was being as noisy as possible as he ate, his fork and knife clanking across the plate as he cut the haycakes up.

“She said yes, to my surprise, and the rest you can say is history,” he laughed, looking over at his daughter, who had her head on the counter, trying to avoid all eye contact with her father, finding the story to be embarrassing beyond belief. “Three months later, we were married, and eleven months after that, my little Haycakes over there was born, I think I got some pictures of her as a filly around here some-”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is going on her break!” Trixie shouted, kicking the door to the back open and storming away. Spoon just laughed at his daughter as Mac started to attack his bacon, trying to get out of this diner as fast as possible. If the food was not so good and cheap, he would never come back here again.

“Now then, you got any love stories you would like to share?” Spoon asked, laughing still as he looked over at Mac.

Yes, Little Macky, you got any love stories to share with old Spoon here? the Rider asked, cackling to himself as Mac had to endure his constant teasing. He didn’t know what was worse, having a voice inside your head that would speak to you and make you question your own sanity, or the fact you knew that voice belonged to a demon? Before the Rider or Spoon could press any further, the door to the diner flew open and a electric yellow colt came flying in.

“Spoon! Old stallion Spoon! Have you heard?! He’s back! He’s back again!” the excited colt shouted, running into the diner wiping his head back and forth like an excited dog, till he found Spoon and ran over to him.

“Heard what, Puff Piece?” Spoon asked, getting out of his seat and looking down at the colt. “I’ve been in the back making food all day, and no newscolt had been by to give me my papers,” the stallion said, tapping his hoof. Puff Piece didn’t seem to care as he started to jump up and down in excitement.

“The Ghost Rider is back! Look! Look!” the colt had been wearing a small saddle bag and was pulling out a newspaper. The front page had a black and white picture of an alley way with several police officers standing around, and white sheets covering what looked like to be bodies. “They found them this morning! Three bodies and two ponies in the weird coma thing! He’s back again!” the colt said excitedly, as Spoon took the paper and started read through it.

The news had gotten the attention of everypony in the diner; even Trixie had came out from the back at the colt’s shouting, all entreated, all except one who was still busy eating. Spoon was scanning the paper as everypony watched him, waiting to hear his take on the story. Finally, Spoon placed the paper on the table Mac was sitting at and shook his head.

“I don’t know if I should like this guy or not,” he said with a defeated sigh. The young colt looked ready to start shouting again, but Spoon held out his hoof to silence him. “I’m not saying bad ponies don’t deserve to be punished, Celestia knows I think ponies, dogs, griffins, and so forth should all be held accountable for their actions. But this here ‘Ghost Rider’ just goes around killing who he thinks should be killed, or putting them in that strange coma. Just ain’t right, no pony should have that kind of power and abuse it like that,” Spoon shook his head as he looked down at Puff Piece, who was looking up at him in confusion.

“But I think Ghost Rider is a super hero! And when I grow up, I want to be just like him!” the colt said excitedly. As those words left his lips, a loud, dark, and sadistic laugh threaten to break out Mac’s skull as the Rider just laughed.

Hear that, Mac? He want’s to be just like us. Maybe you should tell him how to become the Ghost Rider, maybe he will even take me off your hooves, the Rider kept laughing, blocking out all noise around Mac, and making the stallion head hurt like no other, as if his head was about to explode. The pain was normal to him now, but still, it was as if somepony was smacking the side of Mac’s head in with a hammer.

“Now, don’t say such things,” Greasy Spoon said, waving his hoof at the young colt. “Murder is still murder, and using the powers given to him to do such, is just plain wrong,” Spoon said, only making the Rider laugh harder, causing Mac even greater discomfort. “The Princesses agree with that, why else would they dedicate an entire section of the Royal Guard to try to track him,” Spoon pointed at an officer in the picture, who had the mark of Celestia on his shoulder. “Then, once all them really bad ponies are gone what is stopping him from going after lesser criminals? What if you stole a bit from your parents and he thought that was punishable by death? Would he still be a superhero?”

What, stopping me is the taste, the Rider whispered in Mac’s head. Pure souls taste horrible, no flavor to them or anything. Dark souls...oh how I love tainted souls, tainted with the blood of the innocent. That is what I want: murders, crime lords, rapist, and more...their souls are...delicious, Mac took the opportunity of the Rider’s rant to finish his meal as fast as he could. He didn’t need to be here as they put him on trial for if the Ghost Rider was good or not.

Placing the bits on the table, Mac got up from his seat and started to put the bits on the table to pay his bill. Greasy Spoon noticed this at once, and a frown crossed his face.

“You leaving so soon? It’s been ages since I saw you last; sit awhile and have another cup of coffee,” Spoon said, trying to cut off Mac before he could leave. But Mac was already opening the door to leave, not even bothering to look back as the door shut behind him. He didn’t need to be surrounded by ponies that cared for one another. Strangers willing to lend a helpful hoof. They were just reminders of what his curse had taken from him.

Cold, The Rider laughed as Mac started to pass a row of windows, allowing the reflection of the Rider to be seen. And that is coming from me, but hey, who needs friends when you got me, Mac Mac. The Rider began to chuckle, using another one of his many nicknames for Mac. Rolling his eyes, Mac proceded down the busy streets of Manehatten, getting closer to the city’s edge and back to open country. So where are we going next? The Rider finally asked.

“Stalliongrad,” Mac replied, a voice no higher than a whisper, but he knew the Rider could hear him. “Still plenty of mobsters out there for you to eat,” Mac said, as the chuckling of Rider soon filled his mind. Mac knew it was one the Rider’s favorite meals, and as long as the Rider was happy, he didn’t have to deal with these little conversations.

Mac just wanted to leave Manehatten as soon as possible. Stalliongrad was a week’s journey by conventional means, but he and the Rider did not travel by conventional means. As the crowds soon started to fade as the reached the outer layers of the city, Mac ducked into an alleyway that was out of the line of sight.

“All right then,” Mac said, looking around the alley. “Lets get moving,” at that Mac placed the tip of hoof in his mouth and gave out a high pitch whistle. Almost at once, the sound of a engine could be heard coming to life. Then, materializing out of the shadows, a black cruising motorcycle with red trim came rolling in front of him. The motorcycle no longer had chains surrounding it, or a blood red light, but looked like a normal bike, that just came from the shadows.

Getting on the bike, Mac revved the engine a few times, allowing the engine to roar in the alleyway and letting him feel the power of the motorcycle. The Night Rod, the Ghost Rider’s ride of choice and a small benefit of being cursed. With one last rev, Mac peeled out of the alley and back onto the streets of Manehatten. Passing a few cabs and angry pedestrians, Mac rode out of the city, leaving a trail of black smoke behind him.

Author's Notes:

This story is consuming my life...and I am loving it!!!

Thanks to jzelmmer for the edits, and all of those who I have been sharing this idea with! As for the Ghost Rider, I am taking my own spin on him. He is kind of like Riuk from Death Note at times just for some comedy. Also look up a Harley Davidson Night Rod, the best ride for any demonic pony.