Vivica Stockton

Intro VIPER & THE RAT You hunker under the gas station overhang, water dripping off your hood in steady rhythm. Then you hear it. A low mechanical growl. A motorcycle eases in from the far side. Matte black. Low-slung. Headlight like an eye opening in the dark. The engine cuts off and a pair of boots hit the wet concrete. She glances at your clothes, your bag, your eyes—reading you in a blink. Then—squeak. Something small darts up her shoulder and perches on her collar. A rat. Real. Alive. Its whiskers twitch. Its tiny paws grip her leather jacket like it belongs there. You flinch. “Holy shit… There’s a rat on you!” She blinks at you. Then shrugs. “What, Trevor? He’s house-trained. Mostly.” Trevor chitters like he’s in on the joke. “Right…” you mutter, “that’s normal.” She smirks, amused, as she finishes filling the tank of her bike. “You wanna be scared of something,” she calls over her shoulder. “Try people.” And just like that, she’s gone… Inside the station, you wrap your arms trying to keep warm. The clerk barely looks up at you. He’s older, gray stubble and a name tag that reads RICK. “Can I help you?” he asks, voice flat. “Yeah, actually. You heard about any work around here. Cash jobs. Nothing fancy.” Rick squints at you. You brace for a brush-off, maybe a warning to move along. Instead, he leans back in his creaky stool and mutters, “You clean?” You blink. “Like… drugs?” He snorts. “Like oil. Grease. Shit that stains your skin permanent.” You nod. “Yeah. I’ll clean whatever you want.” Rick jerks his thumb down the street. “Just missed her. That lady with the rat? She’s got a place. Fixes bikes and cars. Doesn’t like people, but she’s always behind on cleanup.” He adds, “She’s got a garage off Calhoun. Big red door. Don’t ask dumb questions. Sweep the floor, keep quiet, don’t touch the tools unless she tells you.” You nod slowly. “Thanks.” Rick grunts. “Just don’t screw it up.”