Marvel : Starting as Ghost Riser

"Oh? Tell me more. Are they some rich kids? Demon hunters who work for free?" Roger picked up his glass and took another sip of the cocktail.

The bar owner placed the freshly cleaned glass back on the counter, thinking for a moment.

"Hehe, a couple of newbie brothers. Not rich kids, and they don't have any real magic. They just rely on some materials and tricks for their exorcisms." The bartender placed the wiped glass back on the counter and thought for a moment.

"They bought their demon-hunting supplies from me. Oh, their names are Dean and Sam."

Roger was taken aback. Weren't those two the Winchester brothers? The ones who had no formal exorcism training and relied on a journal left by their father to fight evil? Yet, they had incredibly good luck, always managing to survive...

Just then, a timid voice came from behind Roger.

"Excuse me, can I post a task here?"

Roger turned around to see a boy of about ten, clutching an Ultraman figure, looking around nervously. He shyly tugged on Roger's sleeve and asked...

"Kid, this isn't the place for you." Roger pointed to a sign nearby: "No Alcohol for Minors."

"I'm not here for alcohol. I'm here to post a task," the boy said, summoning his courage.

"Oh, post a task? Who told you that? Old Ray, do you take on tasks from kids now?" Roger turned to the bar owner, curious.

The bar owner shrugged. He was equally baffled. Who would accept a task from a child? Most of the tasks here were exorcisms, with a few bodyguard jobs mixed in.

But the boy raised an index finger and pointed at Roger himself.

"Me!? Are you sure you've got the right person?"

The boy nodded vigorously, like a chick pecking at grain. He then pulled a photo from his backpack, showing a boy with Roger.

"Jamie told me you're a mercenary. You'll take on any task, as long as you're given the most valuable thing as payment."

Roger was dumbfounded. The photo was indeed of him.

Last time, he'd seen a child crying and, thinking he was lost, had kindly gone to ask what was wrong.

He learned that the boy was worried about being scolded after getting a bad grade on a test during the day, and fearing the results would be released tomorrow.

Upon learning that Roger was a mercenary, the child had asked with hopeful eyes if he could help steal and burn the school's test papers.

Roger had initially wanted to refuse, but the child had offered his beloved pocket watch as payment.

When the watch was presented, the game system had identified it as a "silver" item, redeemable for two silver coins in the game store.

As mentioned before, the game system allowed the creation of character skins, but they had to be purchased with game currency. And real-world money couldn't be used to top up the game balance.

The only way to earn game currency was by accepting tasks and receiving rewards. While the child's watch might not be worth much in the real world, it had value in the game store. So, embracing the "true fragrance" principle, Roger had accepted the task.

In the dead of night, he'd sneaked into the school, stolen all the test papers, and set them ablaze.

Since there were no casualties or property damage, the incident became an urban legend for the New York Police Department. But that boy now knew of Roger...

"Hahahaha—" Hearing the child's description of Roger's task of stealing school test papers, Old Ray burst into laughter.

"Roger, you're so kind-hearted! From now on, you get a five percent discount on all your drinks."

"Then I thank you," Roger replied, slightly embarrassed.

Roger then turned back to the child. Real-world cash was easy to come by, but game currency was scarce. Embracing the mindset that even a mosquito's leg was meat, Roger asked, "Kid, what's your name? What task do you want to post? Let me be clear, I need to see the payment first. I won't accept anything unsuitable."

"My name is Tom. I want you to help me find my mother. In return, I'll give you this." The boy held up his Ultraman figure.

"This is a limited edition Tiga, released two years ago! It can be sold for a lot of money."

Roger examined the Tiga figure. Okay, it was a limited edition and quite valuable, worth several hundred or even a thousand dollars. But then Roger glanced at the two thick stacks of US dollars he'd placed on the bar to cover everyone's drinks tonight...

"Kid..." Just as he was about to find an excuse to decline, he noticed that the boy's Ultraman figure, in his appraisal vision, began to slowly turn gold.

Roger blinked. He quickly opened his game panel and carefully appraised it again. A gold item, redeemable for one gold coin! Damn—

In all his years since transmigrating, he'd never encountered an item that could be exchanged for a gold coin. Could it be that children's task rewards were of higher value?

"I'll take this task. Tell me what happened to your mother. Have you reported it to the police?" Roger asked.

"Some time ago, my mother received news of my grandfather's death and went to handle his affairs. I was sick at the time, so I didn't go. After she left, she hasn't called. I reported it to the police several days ago, but there's been no news."

At this point, little Tom's eyes reddened, and he looked at Roger with tears welling up. "I'm so worried about my mommy. She's my only family. Jamie said you're very capable. This is the most valuable thing I have. Can you help me?"

"Yes, no problem. I'll take this task. Where are you staying now? Are you alone?"

"I'm staying with Jamie's family now, at 76 Brown Street. When can you start looking for my mom?"

"Don't rush." Roger took a sip of his drink. "Tell me your mother's name. I'll go to the police station first to get some information, and then I'll set out. After all, I need to know where your mother went, right?"

"Sally. My mommy's name is Sally Carina."

"OK. You go back first. I'll come find you tomorrow to get some more information."

"Okay." Little Tom nodded. "Then you must find my mother."

Roger waved his hand, indicating it was no problem. The boy then walked out of the bar with a cheerful skip.

"Oh-ho, looks like we'll be adding 'taking on tasks from children' to our services," Old Ray teased.

"Roger, want to buy some demon-hunting weapons? I'll give you a twenty percent discount this time, just for you."

Roger finished his entire cocktail in one gulp and set the glass down. "No need. I am the weapon."

He then walked out of the bar. Once outside, Roger pulled out a phone and dialed a number.

Ring... Ring...

"Hello, George? I need a favor. I need you to look into something for me. Don't give me that. I've helped you solve quite a few problems, or you wouldn't have been promoted to captain so quickly. Good, don't leave yet. I'm on my way."

Roger revved the engine of his Harley motorcycle and sped off towards the police station.

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George, formerly an idealistic rookie cop brimming with a sense of justice, had encountered Roger during an investigation into a death. Roger, at the time, was a demon hunter hired by the deceased's family – he hadn't yet become the Ghost Rider.

Roger had used a character skin to trick a demon into possessing his own body, then sent the demon back to Hell. George, witnessing this, was deeply impressed, admiring Roger's self-sacrifice, and they became friends...

Later, Roger learned George's full name: George Stacy. It hadn't clicked at first, but after George's rapid rise to captain of the New York precinct thanks to their collaborations, it dawned on Roger.

George Stacy was likely Gwen's father, the police captain from Spider-Man. But he hadn't yet reached the rank of commissioner; for now, he was a young captain bursting with righteous zeal.

New York, as one of the most prosperous international metropolises, was naturally never short of incidents, especially with its tens of thousands of homeless people. These jobless individuals, breeding grounds for crime, were a favorite of demons.

This resulted in countless demons and devils flocking to the city, able to exchange trivial favors for vast quantities of life and souls.

Some hopeless homeless people might even be willing to trade their souls for a single night of luxury and pleasure, even if it meant dying the next day.

Fortunately, as the most prosperous city in the United States, New York had no shortage of capable individuals and extraordinary beings. Most importantly, it housed a branch of Kamar-Taj – the New York Sanctum.

As a result, only minor demonic mischief occurred. Larger demons? Roger had never seen any, probably because the Ancient One had dealt with them.

However, in more remote areas, these demons were rampant. With few or no demon hunters, they acted without restraint, doing whatever they pleased—

Vroom Vroom—

A man with sunglasses, riding a motorcycle, stopped in front of a police station in Queens and honked the horn.

The guard at the entrance saw him and immediately picked up the intercom to notify George Stacy.

If anyone else had dared to honk their horn at a police station, an officer might have approached, hand on their holster.

If the person were black, well, they might get invited for a "popcorn" treat. [See notes below]

But Roger and George Stacy were well-acquainted. Police stations often had consultants or informants; once you were familiar, things were easygoing, except for unrestricted access to the station itself.

Roger dismounted, lit an imported cigarette, and offered one to the guard, who smiled and accepted it.

"George needs you again?" the guard asked.

Because whenever cases arose that defied scientific explanation or police investigation, George Stacy would invite Roger to take a look, albeit for a fee.

Roger charged for both mercenary and demon-hunting tasks, sometimes even adding extra fees.

"Wrong, Will. This time, I need George's help. It's to help a child find his missing mother."

"A child's mother? Is it that case? Is the missing mother named Sally Carina?" the guard, Will, asked.

"That's right. You know about it?" Roger asked, surprised.

Will's smile faded, and his expression turned serious. "If it's her, then yes. Even if you hadn't come, George was probably going to ask for your help anyway. You always seem to be able to help him with those strange cases."

"Hey—Roger, you're here! What are you two talking about?" a voice called out. It was George, dressed in his police uniform, walking towards them.

"We were just talking about that Sally case."

At the mention of the name, George Stacy's expression also became serious. Seeing George's face, Roger knew he'd come to the right place. There was clearly something unusual about this Sally woman's disappearance.

"Let's talk about Sally's case in the conference room. Will, can you register Roger for me?"

"Sure, consider it done." Will assured him. Registering visitors, except for those arrested, was standard procedure. But Roger was a frequent visitor, so his information was already on file.

Roger followed George into the police station. Shortly, they arrived at an office. George poured two cups of instant coffee and then came to the conference table, handing one to Roger.

"Actually, even if you hadn't come, I was planning to find you. It's about that Sally case." George took a sip of coffee, frowning. He'd grown a few more gray hairs these past few days.

"What exactly happened? It seems like there's something wrong with her disappearance?" Roger asked, curious.

"Yes, the situation is this. After the child reported it, we looked into everything. His mother, Sally, went to handle her deceased father's belongings and then disappeared. We thought it might be a murder or kidnapping, so we contacted the local police to investigate. But they said..."

At this point, George's expression became extremely odd. "Sally is alive and well, partying at bars every day, changing men, and has absolutely no desire to return to her son."

"We called her. She answered, very impatiently said she didn't want her son anymore, and hung up."

Roger stroked his chin, thinking. "Amnesia? No, that's not it. If she remembers her son, it's not amnesia. Could it be some supernatural entity at play?"

Roger was, of course, referring to demons and devils. They loved toying with human emotions, especially causing fathers and sons, mothers and sons to turn on each other, or driving spouses to betrayal. The more loving the family, the more their discord fueled the demons' excitement.

"I also suspect those things are involved. I sent two of our guys to investigate, and the result—"

Seeing George's strange and indescribable expression, Roger's curiosity was piqued again.

"Don't tell me your two guys died?"

George Stacy shook his head. "They didn't die, but, like Sally, they seemed to have changed completely. They're partying and indulging in local pleasures, refusing to come back. Even the chief's order to fire them doesn't faze them."

"And one of them has a family. He used to be very devoted to his wife and children, but now he says he wants a divorce, claiming his wife is old and ugly. He doesn't want her anymore. His wife is so furious that she's hired a lawyer to start dividing their assets."

"So, I suspect something's going on in that place, causing these people to undergo drastic personality changes."

"And you want me to go with you to investigate what's happening, right?" Roger finished his sentence.

George Stacy nodded. "That's right. You're the only person I know who can handle this kind of situation."

Roger chuckled. "Aren't you afraid that once you get there, you'll become like them, disowning your family and abandoning your wife and child?"

George Stacy smiled. "I'm confident that will never happen to me. My love for my wife and daughter will never be swayed by anything."

Just then, a lively and adorable little girl's voice came from the doorway.

"Daddy—"