CW: graphic, drug references

"I'll be back in a few hours, babe. You can stay and hang with the boys." Viv put her hand on Jax's arm, rubbing it. She had to get out of the bar. Three guys had groped her without Jax noticing, and she was sick of hanging around watching the guys light up.

Jax pulled her close, grinding into her. Viv hid the flinch as his breath, rancid from the meth, hit her nose. "Fine. We'll just go fuck with some apes. Be back in time for tonight."

Viv smiled and nodded. "You bet. Wouldn't miss it. Crack some heads for me."

Jax trailed his hand down her arm as she pulled away. She glanced back and wiggled her fingers at him before turning the corner.

Once he was out of sight, her shoulders slumped and her stance relaxed. Her stride lengthened as her long legs ate up the blocks. She waited until she was a full block away before she pulled out her phone.

First, she called Spelling Ink and confirmed an opening. Then she shot off a series of texts, barely looking up from her phone enough to keep from running into people. Most avoided her, taking their cue from her style.

It didn't matter if they assumed she was a skinhead or punk, the look was almost identical, and for good reason. Most punks were former skinheads and violently anti-Nazi. Most skinheads took their cues from the anarchy of punk, directing their violence towards non-whites.

Viv raised her head to glance up at the sign for the tattoo parlor. She turned into the narrow staircase leading up from the sidewalk, jumping over the broken thirteenth step. She pushed open the weather-swollen door and clomped over to the older woman inside.

Candy pulled off the nitrile gloves covering her inked-up fingers and grabbed Viv in a bear hug. "Hey, Chica. How's it?"

Viv gave her a half-shrug. "It goes. Same ol' crap, different day."

Candy nodded. She didn't have to say she understood. Viv knew the older woman had done the same thing Viv was doing now - joining a skinhead crew by way of screwing one of the boys, then ratting them out, blowing their cover stories, and doing everything she could to make them implode.

Rumor had it, Candy had driven one of the KKK grand wizards to kill his own son. She was legendary and, like Viv, she'd had an advantage.

"Whatcha need today?" Candy asked, gesturing Viv to sit in the chair.

Viv smiled. "I want the spell to burn shit to the ground."

Candy bit on her lip for a moment, then turned the dial on the safe she had on her worktable. She pulled out red, orange and yellow tattoo inks. "You've proven yourself ready for this kinda magic, but all the usual disclaimers apply."

Viv nodded. "Natch." She offered the back of her right wrist for the older witch's canvas. "What's the chant?"