Who Created Ghost Rider Mga Nobela at Kwento

"You working on something cool?" I glance around the store, making sure we're alone. "Maybe." "That's awesome. You know, everyone's been talking about this mystery rider who won that big race last week. Some girl on this beat-up old bike who came out of nowhere and smoked everybody." My heart skips a beat, but I keep my expression neutral. "Really? That sounds interesting." "Interesting? It's incredible!" His eyes light up with excitement. "Nobody knows who she is or where she came from. She just showed up, won the race, and disappeared. People are calling her the Ghost Rider."

Long, golden-hair guy was the first to see me. He knew my name just like the rest of the guys at Ethan’s workshop. Maybe it was time for me to get to know them too since it looked like my life was going to involve bimonthly visits to fix up my motorcycle. “Hey guys, it’s Jay the Ghost Rider,” he announced. I waved at him, a little shy. Ghost Rider became my nickname after my third visit to the workshop. Everytime I came, there was something awfully bad about my bike.

i screamed, he angrily threw me a humans head , a dead human head and it was Mr franklin's head, i wanted to drop tears when i saw an innocent person's head but i had no time to cry, i had to run away , i almost reached the exit but he was there before me then he blocked the way . "Don't ever call me a punk again, punk" he said in an angry voice straight up to my face. "You are E.V.I.L !!" i yelled at him , he immediately grabbed my throat and threw me away, he was more powerful than i thought he was. I was gasping for air but he was still coming after me, he had no mercy at all , all he wanted was to kill me then replace me , that's why he killed Mr Franklin, he knew that Mr Franklin knew t

Felix warned. Laura's vision blurred with tears, feeling that warm sensation of being protected once again. Only after the Brabus SUV left did the fat man dare to stand, his legs still shaking. "Dear God, I just had a brush with death! Damn, I've only been away from North City for a few months! "Who the hell is that guy? How'd he get a ride in Mr. Ghost's car?" That vehicle was recognized throughout not just North City but all of Martial City as Shepherd Ghost's ride. He was an undisputed master of the Transcendent Realm, so nobody would dare cross him.

Jobs were scarce when your last name was Chen and everyone in Coldwater knew your father died owing money to half the town. The straightaway opened up before me, and I twisted the throttle. The speedometer climbed at eighty, ninety, one hundred. My competitor, a rider on a Yamaha R1 who went by "Razor," was half a bike length behind. I could feel his frustration radiating through the night air. He'd been winning these underground races for six months straight until Ghost Rider appeared three months ago. He had no idea Ghost Rider was a woman. None of them did. That was the point.

Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me. “Now what? You can’t break your vow. What will you do? You can’t have a Wolf Rider running around Astoria.” There it was. She knew what her daughter was. The half human part of it was the least of it. The fact that she was a Rider—a creature that could control a werewolf with a simple command. A creature that ruined my family's life. A creature, who must be destroyed before it gains power. There hasn't been a rider born in half a century, and even before, there was only one that ruled Astoria.

He was fingering his blade again, his lust for blood shed was approaching 10 on the ritcher scale. I shakily got to my feet, glaring at him. What human being does this? Derive satisfaction from terror and pain? He wasn't human. He was a beast. "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" I cried, stalling him with my question. Maybe I could run away. My spirits sank as I looked around. I was standing on a large acre of nothingness and gravel. I was a running target. He walked up to me, his boots crunching on small stones. His breath fanned my face and the look in his eyes chilled my bones. There was no ounce of sympathy in those eyes.

"Deal. But understand this, Ghost Rider—if you double-cross me, if this is some elaborate trap, I will make sure you suffer before you die. Both of you." "Noted." We shook on it, and just like that, an unholy alliance was formed.

He took a sip of the burning liquor, his gaze never leaving mine. "One of Ghost’s men," Ares said, leaning forward in his chair. "He killed the Russians, hunting her, and like a fool, she trusted him and got into his van." I froze for a split second, the towel hanging from my hand. Ghost. The name was an old legend. He was a well-respected man. The godfather of the mafia. No one has ever seen him and if they did, they didn't live to tell the tale. He seemed to be more myth than man.