The dark night was like any other. The occasional lights and shouts filled my ears along with the click of my boots.
Tonight, I was going to see him. The Ghost Rider. Rumors flowed all over L.A like an endless river. I was going to see him. If he was like they said he was, then he could help me.
My legs ached with each stride. I rode hard in my lessons, my horse and I panting after.
I kept my head down, my brown hair cascading down my shoulder. I ran my sweaty hands through the waves. I was nervous.
I approached the auto shop. The sign reading: Canelo's Auto and Body. I went through the gate. No one was there. Perfect.
Before I took off towards the sight where he was usually seen, I wanted one last look at the sweet ride.
Earlier today, while walking back from work, I heard a loud engine behind me. It growled as it cruised by me. A sleek, black Dodge Charger, a 1969 model, drove by me. It had a decent blower on its hood, with nice suspension in the back. It was beautiful. I couldn't get a glimpse at the driver, but I could have.
Ever since I discovered my powers, I have been trying preoccupy myself.
I had seen the Charger drive into here. I looked down at the gravel before stepping further. The gravel was disturbed by tracks. Tire marks. It looked to be about the same length. I smiled and walked further.
I saw ahead of me a large warehouse, another building beside it and junk around them. A trail led into the junk beyond it. I approached the larger warehouse first, suspicious.
I climbed onto the pallets, pressing my hands against the window's glass making a visor. I looked through the windows and saw tools, counters covered in more tools, oil bottles, soda cans and rags dirty and clean.
Cars were parked inside in a semi-formal fashion.
I looked at every single vehicle but never saw the good looking bumpers of the Charger.
"Can I help you?"
I almost jumped out of my skin. I slipped of the pallets I was on. In front of me, about six feet away, was a tall latino-looking man. He looked in his early 20s, with a good build. I sized him up.
"What were you doing?"
His voice was gruff, but deep and smooth.
I couldn't speak, the words broken on my lips. I stood, letting the fire bottled up slowly leak.
Drip.
The flames began to spark in my eyes.
"I asked you a question."
Drip.
The fire started to lick my fingers.
His eyes flickered to my hands.
"You've got the Devil inside you too."
"Excuse me?" a female voice asked from behind him. His eyes filled with panic. As he turned I took this as my chance.
I ran. I ran and never looked back.