Being called "father" was nothing new to Solomon.
When he traveled through war-ravaged places like Iran, Syria, and Afghanistan in between official duties, he would often disguise himself as a teacher, a doctor, or a traveler, using whatever means suited his assumed identity to grant small wishes to people whose lives had been shattered by war. He had delivered babies, treated infectious diseases and injuries, taught science and reason to teenagers—and had been driven out more than once by superstitious local religious leaders, usually tribal elders. But he would always return, openly bringing food, meat, vegetables, sweets, and books, forcing those who made their living selling shell casings and scrap metal from bombs to bow their heads and welcome him back.
Some of the food was used to "purchase" children. Solomon would take those under ten—and often their mothers as well—into the Immortal City to be educated, for in the places he visited, the able-bodied men were usually all dead. As for the books, many were atheist works forbidden by the elders, so he would quietly hand them out to his temporary students along with candy.
Not all the children he brought back had been "bought" from such places—some older ones came with him voluntarily, boys and girls alike. Some spoke only local dialects, some could recognize a few English words; some were whole in body, others maimed; some were haunted by witnessing their families slaughtered, and some had suffered horrific abuse themselves. He had once met a twelve-year-old girl traveling with her disabled younger brother, an infant born of an atrocity on her back, surviving only by clearing NATO landmines and selling bomb fragments.
He was rarely angry—unless he couldn't help it.
When Solomon spoke with those he had chosen and revealed his ideals, every one of them, without exception, quickly accepted him. Then he would drive them across war-torn lands to find the people responsible for their suffering. He would don armor, take up sword and explosive rifle, and walk straight into the battlefield. The children would follow behind, unharmed by shell fragments or bullets, and see with their own eyes the vengeance carried out in their names.
He told them he would end humanity's meaningless wars, and that they would one day achieve that ideal with their own hands.
He told them there was no god, and no need for one—they would be their own saviors, and the saviors of others. The good life of the future would be built with their own blood and sweat.
They kissed his blood-and-dust-stained gauntlets and swore their loyalty.
He was Bav, Pader, Baba, Is, Is.
Whatever the pronunciation, whatever the language, they all meant the same thing. They called him the Great Father, and they would give their lives for him, for that great ideal. The maimed were fitted with mechanical limbs; the twelve-year-old girl learned bookkeeping while caring for her siblings; those who spoke only local dialects were taught English, Latin, and mathematics; the ones once tortured beyond endurance took up weapons and trained for war. Their old ignorance and superstition were replaced with reason and science. They became part of the Immortal City, cogs in the machinery building the future.
Solomon chose to believe in them, and he gave them each a small token—a golden eagle with outspread wings, the emblem of the Immortal City.
"When you used your Penance Stare on me, what did you see?"
"I saw war, shells, severed limbs, death… and trees and fire."
Robbie Reyes took a deep breath, closing his eyes in pain, unable to make sense of what he'd seen. He regretted taking on the challenge. Even though Wanda had insisted over and over that this younger-looking man was her teacher, Robbie still found it hard to believe. Solomon had seen his doubts, and with calm ease disabled the runes binding the Spirit of Vengeance in the cell, inviting him to a test—demanding that Robbie use the Penance Stare on his soul. For a Ghost Rider, nothing judged a person more truthfully. Robbie agreed readily, warning repeatedly that it could harm the magus. Once sure that Wanda's teacher understood the risk, Robbie summoned the Spirit of Vengeance into the physical world.
Solomon only nodded, showing little else.
And then Robbie regretted it—because the one at risk of being burned away wasn't Solomon, but his own soul.
In mere seconds he saw things he couldn't comprehend. The Spirit of Vengeance screamed and fled back beyond the veil of reality, retreating into the sea of souls in pain and fear. Robbie didn't understand what had happened. When he came to, he was leaning against the rough wall, drenched in sweat, hands scraped raw, broken nails clogged with dried blood. The memories left to him were a jumble, but he had glimpsed pieces of Solomon's past.
"You really did that?" he panted, staring at the rune-carved granite ceiling as if his gaze could pierce through the thick stone and alloy plates. "Those kids are really there?"
"Of course. That's the purpose of the underground city above your head—it is the seat of justice and righteousness. What you saw was what I've done in those war zones. I gave them new lives. And you'll get the same gift."
Solomon crouched in front of him, unconcerned by the prisoner's stench.
The magus's expression was unchanged, as if he had never been subjected to the Penance Stare. "But I don't have time to deal with your problems, Spirit of Vengeance. You'll have to solve them yourself. Don't worry—you're not alone. You have your car, Immortal City funding, and another Ghost Rider. I'm sure you'll be very eager to meet the man who turned you into a Ghost Rider—Johnny Blaze will be joining you. He'll teach you how to truly be one. And stop with the 'I sold my soul to the devil' nonsense—you didn't have a choice—"
His tone suddenly hardened. "—Look at yourself. Crying about wanting to see your brother. You're still alive, whole in body. I've seen people far worse off than you who never complained once—they just fought to live. Like your brother. He's smarter than you, and he knows you can't be seen by him. Do you really think he'd die without you?"
"I…"
"I'm sure you saw those children's situation—because I let you see it. If you want this power, then no matter the cost, no matter the trials ahead, shut your mouth and take responsibility. Everyone corrupted by the Darkhold must die, even if only their souls remain. Kill them. Protect the real world from their harm. That's your job. At the end of duty lies only death, Robbie Reyes."
"That line is so cool, big brother!" Young Lorna said excitedly after hearing Solomon's steady, story-like words. "When will I get to say something that cool?"
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