Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Ghost Rider the movie or Ghost Rider the comic book series.

I watched the cars rush up and down the crowded streets of the most populated city in the USA. Of, course, I was watching from the inside of a dumpster, praying a few certain people wouldn't find me, but still, I was watching. Ten more minutes and I should be able to get out of the dumpster, and watch from the sidewalk. Nine minutes. Eight minutes.

"Guys, I think she went down here …"

Well, might as well put up a good fight I thought, knowing gang members always checked in the dumpsters. I sighed and lifted up the heavy plastic lid that served the purpose of holding in the stench of rancid garbage that the dumpster contained.

"Hey assholes, over here!" I yelled in the general direction of where they were coming from. I felt my back pocket tentatively, and thank God it was there. My jackknife. It made fighting thugs easy, at least, compared to fist fighting. But then again, fighting thugs in general was pretty hard.

They were advancing now, and there were at least six of them. Six to one. Wow, I was done for.

"Hey pretty lady," one of the men, probably the leader, sauntered up to me, "we don't want to hurt you, so you just give us back that money and we won't. Okay?"

I laughed harshly. "Yeah right, you'll be prying this money out of my cold dead hands." I took the wad of cash out of a pocket in my worn leather jacket and waved it in front me. There was at least one thousand dollars in cash in my hands right now, and rightfully, it was mine. I mean sure, the gang members had knocked the rich girl out, but I had grabbed the purse she dropped while running from them. Rules of the street, finders keepers, losers weepers. There had been at least ten thousand dollars in that Prada bag, but I had stashed the rest for later. I could live off of one thousand dollars for about a one month to a year, depending on how extravagant or thrifty I was.

"You must not be very street savvy girly, so I'll make it simple for you, it's six to one and the odds are against you, now hand over the money or else."

I stared straight into those black beady eyes. "No." My defiance rang clear in that one word. This money meant my existence to me and I wasn't about to let that one scrawny, useless existence slip away.

"Fine, but remember, you made the choice."

Let the fight ensue, was my one thought as I pulled my jackknife out of my pocket.

My breathing was quick and shallow as I laid in the cold, dark alleyway. So this was it, I was going to die in a pool of my own blood, with a knife sticking out of my stomach. Wonderful. I'd kind of been hoping for a nice peaceful death with a fancy funeral with flowers and a eulogy about how great my life had been. Yeah, right, life on the streets wasn't that kind.

I'd taken out four of the six men. I was about to bring down the fifth when one of the men, in his final moments, seized a knife and threw it at me. Now, I have to commend him for being so surprisingly accurate at such a bad time in his life, but that's not what I was thinking at the time. All I could think or feel was pain. I cried out in anguish and fell to the ground. That was enough time for the fifth man to deal great blows to my head and torso. I couldn't do anything to resist them after that; they took the money and my innocence. Not to mention my life.

Now, as I rested there on the dirty alley floor, I wondered if God would let me into heaven after everything I'd done.

I woke up in a room with blinding white fluorescent lights. It felt like I had just been whacked over the head with frying pan. I tried to remember what I had done last and realized I pretty much had been hit over the head with a frying pan. I also realized that the pain and drowsiness meant I was alive.

"Yes, you are alive," a chilling voice echoed throughout the room. "But only because I willed it. You'd be 6 feet in the ground right now if it wasn't for me."

I attempted to get up and locate the source of the voice, but there were too many cords, wires, and tubes attached to me. That could only mean I was in a hospital and that someone had, for some reason, had rescued me.

"Who are you?" I choked out. My voice was raspy and dry like a desert.

"Why, I'm your friend Kayla," the voice responded with a slight chuckle. There was a whoosh of air and the person who produced the words stood above me. He was a very old man dressed in a suit, and had light gray hair and piercing, sharp eyes. He seemed almost … ethereal.

I was about to speak but he put a finger up to my mouth.

"Shh, shh. We don't want you to waste your energy now do we? Especially when you're on life support." The stranger pointed to an overly complicated machine with wires, that as I traced their route, found were attached to me.

"Now, let's get down to business," he said in a not quite amiable voice. "You want to live right? Just shake your head yes or no."

I actually thought about that for a fraction of a second. Did I want to live? Dying seemed like an easier way to go than trying to fight for my life. It would also allow me to be at peace. But, when did I ever walk away from something worth fighting for?

I nodded.

"You want to get revenge on the men who did this to you."

This was a statement rather than a question and a no-brainer. Of course I wanted revenge. Another nod.

"You want a family who will love you?"

This struck a nerve.

"How did you know that?" I wheezed.

"Kayla, my dear, I know everything. Now you want all these things right?"

I nodded for the third time.

"Well, I can give them to you. All you have to do is sign a contract to become my rider. That does include giving your soul to me, but it's a small price to pay for what you want, right?"

"Huh?"

"Don't worry my dear, it's nothing to worry about, you just have to do a little work for me. Here, you can read the contract over."

He handed me a scroll. As I opened it something poked me. I held up my finger and a drop of blood oozed off onto the scroll, right onto the line where I was supposed to sign.

"Oh, that will do just fine." The old man smiled and took the scroll. Then he melted into the shadows, even though there weren't any in that bright room.