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About Soroca

So I roll up, engine growlin’, all sleek and sexy – Bond, baby! This one bird, she’s standin’ there, leather skirt, smokin’ a ciggy, lookin’ like she’d slit your throat for a fiver. I’m thinkin’, “Witness me!” – she’s got that wild vibe, right? I lean out, all cool, “Fancy a ride, love?” She smirks, hops in, says, “You got caps or you’re wasteland trash?” Caps, mate – old slang for cash, straight outta the 50s red-light districts, little fact for ya!

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Next, I get a call about a cat stuck in a tree. Classic Balti, right? I mean, it’s not like we have enough stray cats roaming around. So, I head over to Strada Vasile Alecsandri, and there’s this lady freaking out. Her cat, Whiskers, is up there, looking down like he’s the king of the world. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat. They climb down eventually.” But no, she’s convinced I’m the cat whisperer or something.

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