ELEVEN || GHOST RIDER AND THE HELLCAT

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How the hell are we gonna pay rent this month?" Fangs sighed, tossing a notice onto the table in front of Fallon, and she ran a hand through her bleached hair, worry on her face. "I don't know. Neither of us make enough bartending at the Wyrm, and God knows none of the Northside mechanic shops would hire me."

"Well, we'll figure something out. We always do." He said, ruffling her hair with a tired grin on his face.

Fallon's eyes drifted to the hooks by the door, where her and Fangs' motorcycle keys hung. Next to hers, on the farthest hook to the right, hung a set of keys that hadn't been used in two years.

A smile crept onto her face.

She knew exactly how they were gonna pay the rent.

___

It was three in the morning, and she pressed her ear to Fangs' door, pleased when she heard his snores coming from within.

She pulled on her custom jacket that she'd unearthed from the back of her closet and boots, making sure she had her switchblade and brass knuckles in her pockets just in case.

Looking in the mirror in the bathroom, she grabbed a small jar of black gel eyeliner, dipping a finger in and smearing it around her eyes to create a rather Mad Max type effect.

She looked nothing like she would normally, considering she'd Dutch braided her long blonde hair back tightly in two parts and woven in black extensions, making it go down to her hips in a white to black ombré.

Creeping over to the door, she tied a black bandana over the lower half of her face, obscuring her identity. If people knew who Ghost Rider was, she'd be in trouble.

She slid the keys on the last hook off quietly, pocketing them and easing the door open, cringing when it creaked on its hinges. Shutting it softly behind her, she hurried down the trailer's steps, walking over to a tarp at the far end of her yard.

An unmistakably excited smile grew on her face as she pulled the tarp off of the car it had hidden for so long, the part of her life that she'd promised Fangs to never revisit coming out of the shadows again.

"Hey, sweetheart," Fallon said fondly, running her hand over the hood, the matte black paint as perfect as it was when it was first covered. "You ready to ride?"

_____

Sweet Pea and Toni were regular spectators at the weekly (very illegal) drag races held by Riverdale's underground racing syndicate, and tonight was no exception.

"Who's your bet on this week?" Sweet Pea asked Toni as they took their seats at the starting line, at least fifteen cars and a hundred people gathered to race and watch and bet.

"I'm going with Rumble Strip, that guy can fuckin' drive." She replied, and he huffed. "Yeah, but he hasn't won in a month."

Suddenly, a commotion was heard and everyone's attention turned to a new car pulling in, the customized matte black Dodge Hellcat drawing every pair of eyes in attendance.

"Who's that?" Toni asked in a hushed voice, and Sweet Pea strained to see who was driving as the car pulled up to the row of normally brightly colored muscle cars, it's black rims glinting and the engine snarling as it rolled to a stop.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I'm not mistaken we have royalty in the house!" The announcer yelled over his bullhorn, people looking around in confusion and murmuring.

"Is it really her?" A girl near Sweet Pea asked her friend, and the other girl watched the car, eyes wide. "I hope not, because then the races won't even be fun to watch. No one'll even come close to touching her."

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