For The Rats (One-Shots)

i met a devil in the city of angels

My van rolled into the dark gas station, neon lights buzzing with an electric intensity that cast a bluish glow over the vacant lot. I set my parking break, listing to the familiar clicking as I twisted my key backwards. The engine falls silent, and I am left to listen to the bustling night of Los Angeles. 

The night air was cool, slightly chilling from the early spring breeze. But something seemed off about tonight, there was a certain heaviness to the air--- a tension I couldn't quite place. I tried to push it to the back of my mind, I was probably just tired and paranoia seemed to be my anchor point that I always went to when I was tired, hungry, thirsty, and so on, and on. I was tired, it was true. Driving here had been a grind, but it was worth it when I saw the city glowing from a distance. Tonight would be my first night in LA, the first of many. I could almost hear myself telling the story a year from now in an interview. "Nick Matthews, lead vocalist of Get Scared opens up about how the famed metal band began." 

Telling the story of how I risked it all and moved to LA to live in the van I bought after working for a year in fast food. The rags to riches mentality supporting me as I built my makeshift home in the dead of winter. It had been snowing the day I'd installed the flooring in my baby. 

I smile to myself, squeezing the handle to the gas pump and listening to the gush of liquid fill my hungry beast. I am madly in love with my van. I know she's taking me places, she's the band's chariot. Even if I haven't found the band members yet. That would be tomorrow's objective. I think it was like 11:00 last I checked my phone. Just then, something moves in the corner of my eye as a thin tendril of long, dark hair falls into my face. 

My heart spikes, and I snap my head to the right toward my door. There was nothing. 

Calm down Nick, you just need to go to bed. 

But now I felt exposed, the only vehicle by the gas pumps. There were some parked out infront of the store, some distant chatter picking up as a couple exited the building, but I was still alone. 

I slowly walk to the front of my black van, leaning over the small hood. Still nothing. I turn back to the pump, glancing around the empty space around me. There wasn't a single soul around. With a sigh, I shake my head, staring at the numbers rising on the pump screen. I needed to find a job tomorrow. At least the minimum wage here is higher, and I won't be paying rent so the money would stack up pretty quickly for me. 

I let my eyes shut as I listen to the tank continue drinking, forcing myself to believe that I was safe. If I can shut my eyes, I'm fine. I'm fine. We're chill. Instead of panicking for no reason, how about we think about how good it's gonna be when I'm laying in my van at night with five other people as we drive from one show to the next? We could paint our band name on the outside of the van, print out a giant picture of us and stick it there. I wasn't sure where I would even put six people in this small of a van, but it was gonna work out. I knew it would. 

Gentle footsteps drawing closer alert my hearing, and I open my eyes, but as soon as they're open a pressure is on my neck and I'm being slammed into the side of my van. 

"What the f--" I choke, a pressure tightening around my neck as I meet the shadowed eyes of a stranger. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, fear circulating. Would they kill me? 

"W-what do you want from me?" I choke out, trying to hide my voice's trembling. 

The stranger leans in, his cold grey eyes piercing into my very soul. 

"You," he growls, grip tightening around the sides of my throat. 

Ohhh. 

Ohhhhhhhh.