Chapter Text
◁̷̨̭̝͍͛̃̇̇̓̇◁̶͈͓̬̥͌ ̸̛͈̍͌͛̽͒͗▐̷̨̝͔̫̬͊̀̈́͝ ̶̛̟̳͖͎͔̙̔̍̂̃̂̋̔▌̵̱̓̐́̅̄̏̔ ̸̨͚̮̳̠̬̔̀̋͝▷̸̯̰̳͖̀̄̄͊̐͋̿̕▷̵̹͚̖̞͓̫͎̑̀͊̄͛̇
In this world, blood was not red.
Cuts did not leak red. Gashes didn’t spew crimson. Lips weren’t naturally flushed pink.
No, a baby’s blood was pearl white.
The more crimes that child committed, the darker that undyed lifeforce flowed.
People protected the sight of their blood at all costs if it was the slightest bit off white. Families waited to see what color you’d leak when your time ended, mothers purposely letting their sons bleed to catch them from their wrongdoings, and the most noble families having the purest, cotton white blood the world had ever seen.
And the sinners of the world were covered with the night.
Being in business was… tiring, to say the least. You wake up, scam some, get some money, run from clients and Silvermane guards, hide your blood, sleep, rinse and repeat. And right now, you were in the running stage.
Narrowly avoiding a cut to the arm, you ran through the streets and past the few staring people and buildings. With Silvermane guards right on your tail, expertly dodging the various trash cans and chairs you kicked in their way, you cursed under your breath. The face mask you wore condensed your breathing and made it hard to heave in breaths as you ducked into a familiar alleyway. You stopped, looked the guards straight in the eyes, and took a deep breath.
“SHAMPOO!!!” you screamed into the night. The guards chasing you startled and confused at the random word yelled into the dark, starry sky. That was, until a light rolling appeared behind them. Then, they only saw gray smoke, to the darkness beneath their eyelids. Of course, not without seeing the famed criminal mastermind jump down from the closest wall and strut towards the fallen soldiers.
“Sampo Koski never lets friends who helped him come to harm! Or should I say… siblings?”
…
“Do you really have to say that every time you come in, dumbass.” You say exasperated. Your sweat slicked ponytail stuck to your neck as you straightened out, stretching a bit. Gray blood lightly flowed down from your forearm. You quickly wiped it on your gray gloves.
“Oh, come on~, what’s wrong with having some fun with my baby sister!” He cooed. He’d always loved teasing you for being younger, even if it’s only by a few years, “Here, how about this, I’ll go get us some ice cream and we can sit and watch movies together.”
You sighed, looking down at your pockets. You had just gotten done with a big meeting that gave you a reasonable amount of credits, maybe it’d be okay to splurge it on some ice cream? “Fine, but we’re getting my favorite flavor this time.”
Well, it’s not like you were paying anyways.
Quickly escaping a dark store, now with a broken back door, you and Sampo quickly make it to the various secret Underworld entrances you found as children. “Ladies first~” Sampo teased and made a dramatic gesture with his arms towards the stairs.
You stuck your tongue out, making your way by him to go down the stairs, “You’re as much of a lady as I am, man slut.”
He perked up, “Only the best!”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
̷̞̋̊ ̸̨͓̭͑͛•̵̣̥̉̋͠ ̴̡͚̰͂•̶̰͙̊̽͐ ̷̨̊͑̊•̷͛͒͜ ̸͚͛•̶̜̘̺̋ ̸̲̃̕̚•̴̨̧͂ ̸͇̰͑͜•̶͚̪͚̏͂
▮̵̮͖̠͚̮͈̳͎̦͇͇͕̣̩̆̉̀̈́͐̋▯̸̛̜͐̒̃̑̈̀͌͐̂͠ ̷̡̡̝̀�̸̥͚̫̠̹̥̝̗̅̈͗̂̏̀̉̐̕͜ͅ�̷͖̦͉͔͕̗͔̤̯͚̟͈̈́̀̅̊̇̈́̀�̸̧̛̯̣͓͖̣͉̈̐͂̀̈͂̽͝ ̶̡̰̲̮̻̟̥̬̜̳̤̟̜̎̽̈́̓͛̽̾̚͝ ̸̧̯̬̳̝̤̯̮̺̣̒̋̽͆̈́͘�̷̧͕̞̖̃̃̊̀̔̾̀̈́͒͒̕�̸͉̗̗̝̘̗̣͊͆̆̒̌̕͝͠ͅ�̸̪͙͇̦͕͇͕̤̞̘͉͊̑́͆͌̑̚ ̴̨̱̻̦̱̓͗̅̃͑̔͌͊̈́͛͒̓ ̷̡̝͕̺̺͉̭̼͙̪̠̍̆̌̂́̉́̈́́̚̕͝ ̶̡̢̧͔̟̻͕̘̭̫̖̫̓̾͊̾̆͒́̊̀̀̎͊̈́͜�̴̜̪͎͇̺͍͚̫̗̊̽̄͜�̸̖̯̖̮͛́̾̿̿̓͆̉̇̇͊͐̈́̚ ̶͙̋̐̅́̈́̀̄̀̅͗̑̿͘͝�̴̛̛̯̖̰͙̝̬͔̻̮̠̎̏͊̀̍̂̂̐̊͋͠�̴̻͇̮̹͚͓͕́̓̕ ̴̛̮̅͆̀̾̂́̃ ̴̧̡̡͔̹̙̹͙̳͔̘́̿̾̚͜ ̵̨̰̥̤̜͑̽͑̿̽̄͂̈́͌́̕�̸̱̹̓̃̈́͆̑͊̒�̸̢̛̞͎͓̮̼̭̩̭͕̮̘͆͊́̄̽͋́͘̕͜͝:̷̢͈̣̯̘̠̤̪̰͉͖̀̾͛̉̎̊̇́̃̏͝ ̷͓͉̲̋́̐̅̂̒̓͐̍́̾̋̈́͠?̵̲̤̯̙̮͉͎̟̲͇̔̂̈́͜ ̸̧͚̤͙̖̺̬̥̯̆̔̿͠▮̷̨̞̝̻͔̦̗̩̗͚̺̟̀̍̓͘▮̷̢̡̭̩̯̱̜̥̥̽̃̀̏̍̓͛͛ͅ▮̴̛͕͎͐̉̓͗̐͂̌̀̄̐͑̈́͝▮̸̰̹͓͚̜͇͙͙̩̲͕̈́̃̎͜͠͠ͅ▯̶̬̰̹͉̙̳̺̝̙̥͚̯̉̾̇͛͒͒̋̐̐̕▯̶̡̨͈̮̻͔̪̱̳͎̖̹̈́͗▯̵̛̼̪͎̥͕̺͈̲̉̒́͑̄͗̒͌̆̇̍̂͆ͅ
⋘̴̛̬̘̩̻̬̥͐̔̂͂͐̍̆͐̾̀̈́͊̕͘͝͠͝ ̴̞̞̟̦͛̉̂̒̈́͑͌̈̈́̐͌̚͝͠�̸̢̨̢̧̦̟̞̻͚͓̭̗̹̏̋̈ͅ�̵̙̭̮̹̫͖͕̖̫̮̭̬̬̞͋̄̇͋́̆̈́̐͂̕͝�̷̗̮̼̲̼͂͊́́�̴̡̛̛͎͇̠̭̣͗́̇̈́̈́͆̈͐̀̈́͆͝�̶̧̡̳͎̞͚̭͉̪̠̼͍̪̝̖̮̫̭̀̒͆̑͋̽̈͝�̵͕͕̻̀͛͗͑̓́̆͆̓̏̾̕͝ ̷̩̺͙͓̘̪̹͖̺̪̊̋̍̑̉̽̽̈́͝ ̷̧̛̟̖̼̦̞̪͎͖̟̱̃̀̂̄̈́͊͒̒̎̚͝͝ ̵̧̨͖̬̜̯̜̘̲̺͈̞̜̼̘̬̒͆̿̐́̍͘̕͜͝͝͝ͅ ̷̰̺̤͕͕̓͂̉ ̶̗̬̐̒̀̽͂̂̚�̶̛̯̩͐̍̈͂̈́͛͛̌̔̿̏͒̑̕̚�̴̬̹̤̮̥͔̞̮̙̫̥̬̳̱̳̄͜ͅͅ�̸̨̡̮̻͕͉̘̯͚̀̌͂͌͑̅ͅ�̵̫͎̽.̶͔͔͖̹͉̫̪̜̯̲̬͆͋̅̀̈́͑̇͊̇͂͒̀͌͌́͘.̵̧̩̰̯̦̬̠͔̹͚̖͔̬͊̇̇.̷̬̩͓̗̗͎̠̱̮̎́̎̍̇͌̀̅̉̏͆͆̀̈́̚͝ͅ ̵̣̪̯̯̲͕̟̣̫̯̅̚ͅ⋙̴̄̒͜͝͝ͅ
⋘̶̧̮̫͎̥͖̠̣̪̬̫͉̬͇̬̺̟̯̐̾̈́̏ͅͅ ̴̧̡̢̨̩͍͕̝͇̟̖͕̤̺͎͎̞͎̪͉̤̜̒̿̇͌̂̆̆̈́̏͂̉͆̔̄̔̉̐̚ͅ�̶̧̬̗̼̟̬͉͉̭̖̲̟̥̼͔͈̙͙̥̉̈́͗͊̏̔̕�̶̨̡͙̤̮̹̰̳͔̩͔̗͕̫͈͂̐̈́̍͗͐̏̏͛͑̂̿̌̾̽͆̒̀͂͂̈́̀͘̚�̸̛̛̘̤̫͌́́̎͑͑̀̇͋͑̽̿̌̑̂̎̈́͛̌̏͝�̶̢̨͉̲͇͍̳̤͍̲͚̻̟̖͓͇̜̳̮̻͋̐͗̐̐̽͋̈̈́͐̽̅̃̈́̀̀͊̐͘̕̕͘͜͝͠ͅ ̵̞͚́ ̵̨̛̮̬̗̝̣̱̊̔̊̆͒͐̚ ̶̨̨̲̯̣͓͉͔͔͙̫̅͛̏̿̏͊̎̑̈́͋̿̑͒̄̍͝�̵̢̡̦͉͍̯̟̹͕̟̥̤͈̙̲̤̟̭͍̜͍͕͖͒̊̓̾̎̕ͅ�̷̮̜̘̂̈́͌̒́̒̂̄͐̇̀̄̀̌̾̏͒͗́͆͛̔͂̕̕̕͝͝ ̶̡͖̭̻̤̟̟͕̥̻̞̜̭̩̜̙̜̻̱̜̙̪̱̹̥̈̊ͅ�̵̢̛̲̟͓̮̱̮̩͇̲͈̳̓̋͋́͋͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ ̷̨̢̡̛̛͉̣͉̼̥̟͙̟͖͖̤̓̔̿͗̂͋̈́̓̈̌̾̑͛̂̐̋̓͗͜͝ ̶̨̢̡̮̗̗̮̘͍͉̝̝͚̟̼̫̺̩̯̬̻̭͇̖̓̒̂̀̅͜͜͝͝ͅͅ ̷̯̮̩̪͓͋̔͊̿̈́̔͛͌̿͑̿̃̾͂̀͊̃̈́̄͊̈́͘̚͝?̷͉̯̲̲̺͈̹͕̭͎̼̟̻̮̝̍̿̑͒̄͂̇͋̃̑͊͂̚͠͝ ̸̨̢̡̦̲͈͙̤̯͚̗͉͇͎̺͎̬̰͆̇̄͑ ̴̨͕̳͎͈͓̹͎̙̳̦̳̩͆̓͌͐̎̆͘ͅ ̶̡͚̝̣̦̞̯͈̄͆̈́͑̂͂̉̿͊͛̈́̈̀̾̌̀͋̚̕͠͝?̵̛̰͛͋̅̍͐̇̇̀̎͆̽̀̍̕͝͠͝ ̵̨̠͔͇̼̤̮͕̞͇̻̠͍̥̖̭̥̹̦̹̤̟̃̽͌͆̽̉͌͆̿͛̉̏̈́̂͋̾̔́͜͜͠⋙̴̴̨̧̨̭͙͚̰͓͈̬̯̲̪̞̘̞̣̭̥̼̞̤̩̻͓̩̠̍́̔͌̈́̈́̉͐̄̉̈̅̈̓̔̇͊̉̾̽̂̒͒̈́͐̽͛́̍͘͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝▮̸̺̤̲̟̬̩̫̬̳̲̠̑̐̓͊͋̄̋̿̄́̆͒́͛͜͜͜͠▮̵̡̤͓̻̲̗̪͇̝͈̤̺̘͍̰̜̪̞̪̞̉͜▮̸̦̱͖̦̮̳̭͍̹͖̍͛̈́̏͊͐͗̎̕̕͠▮̸̢̢͍̰̯̮̬̄͒̆͒͐͊̑̔͑͛̈́͊̈́̊̀̌̕̕▯̵̨̟̯̯̻̲͖͉̺̠̗͉͓̞̰͖͙͚͕͍̮̿̑̈́̒͐͝ͅͅ▯̸̺̦̪̞̼̲̟̥̕̚▯̶̧̜͚̱͇̟̗̺̤͚͓̼̔̀͆̎̐̅̎̊͊́̌͛̏͆͊͘̚̕͜͝͠͠
“꓄ꁝꏂ ꅐꄲꋪ꒒꒯ ꒐ꇙꋊ'꓄ ꋬ꒒꒒ ꓄ꁝꋬ꓄ ꒐꓄ ꇙꏂꏂꂵꇙ.”
"ꉣꄲ꓄꒐ꄲꋊ, ꉣ꒐꒒꒒ꇙ, ꋬꋊ꒯ ꂵꏂ꒯꒐ꉔ꒐ꋊꏂꇙ.."
"ꃳ꒒ꏂꏂ꒯ ꌦꄲ꒤ꋪ ꂵꋬꍌ꒐ꉔ ꄲ꒤꓄... ꄲ꒤꓄... ꄲ....꒤... ꄲ꒤... ꄲ꒤꓄."
The old VHS skipped and glitched with every agonizing moment it played on the old CRT television. It depicted a woman, or rather just a human– the face was obstructed –that was strapped to a lab chair. They struggled weakly against the strong metal wrapped around the forearms, every movement seemingly straining the skin, carving into the… person.
Pure, glowing, pearlescent white blood seeps down the side of the chair, splatting onto the granite floor below. A man– doctor– walks into view. He– syringe aǹ̷̪̾̃d̶͇̘́͆̚–̴̪̦̏͜
�̶̧̡̨̤̻̼̯̖̺̯̞̪͕̞̘̖̯̩̄̂̈̔̾̾́̕�̷̳̳̮̲͈͙̪̙͈̹̱̖̮̱͎̩̫̬̄́̐̄́̐͗̽̌͆͆̔̓̈͜͝�̵̡͚͍̹̩͍̲̗̩̫̤͖̥̬̗̻̞͚͛͗̓͜�̴̨̨̧̯̞͈̗̞͓̤̜̲̤̮̫̰̣̖̞̰̽̑̿̒̏̀̎͑͜͠͠ ̵̡̡̧̧̻̳̭̦̟͕̲͇͖̯̫̠̫̪͔̯̠̲͓͖̪͕͎̙̝̅̃̂͂͑̾͐̿͌̾́̐̂̈́̎̋͘͜ͅ ̵̨̨̺͔̥̞̹̼̭̗̟͖̜̰̫̭͉̬̙͙̼̬̙̦̤͔̻͚̲͕͛̅͑̋̽̈́͒̾̂̀͂͐̒̈́̈͝
̴̡͕̣̏́͆̔̊̕͝͝ ̴̡̡͚̥̩̠͔̼̺̟͓͓̝͙͎̟̙͎̮̻̹̓̄̽̈́̽̈́̉̀͛̒̓͛̀͋̀̏͌̿͒̂̈͆̆́͑̚̕͠͝͠ͅͅ ̵̡̛͓͖̻̞̣͈̟̤̦̼͗̇͛̌̓̇͌͜͜ ̵̢̛̩͉̬̝̪̰͇̜͇͎̣͙̬̯̝̖̥̙̺̜̹̫̭͎̦͇̰̳̾͗͗̓͊̓̊͒̀̄̽̀̔͗̚̕ ̴̧̧̮̯͈̦̜͕͉͈̪̭̏̆͑́͂͒̾͐̇͌̅̋̒̈́�̷̨͉͙͓̩̳̯̪̳̗̤̉͜�̵̧̨̢̨̡̭̼̱̳̘̱̬͔̤͇͈͙͎͙͈̝̻̩̰̱̱͕̪̫͍͆̾̓̊̔̅̋̌̚͘͠͠.̷̲̗̠̠̪̪́̏͋͌̿̆̅͒́̋̎̌̚͝.̶̢̡͔̞̫͇̟͋̐̃́͂̿̽̔͝ͅ.̸̧̯̭͖̭̟̹̜̓̀̒̎̏̉̔̈́͗̀̃̆̿͂́̏̄͐́͘̚͜͠͠͠͝ͅ
�̷̢̤̼̜̮̖͇̬̼͉̜͙̹̰̻̻̮͈̱͇̯̞̩͕̝̗̟̗̭̎̓̎͛̐̈̕͜/̶̧̛̜̹͇͎̥̖͎̞̾͗̂͌͆̏̄̅̈́̾̉̊͆̈́̈̌̄̀̆̊̏̚̚͝/̸͙̣͉̣͙̪͙͖͔͈͎̈̽̈́͑́̉͑̇̀͊̐̌̅͌̍͐̏̆͒͐̀͋̉̌̚/̴̨̡̨̧̥͔͍͍͕͖͍̲͐̔̅̓̈́̊́͘͝/̴͙͖̲̠̳͈̝̜̗̺͙͓̻̈́̽̃́̒̄̿̋̑̆̒́̍̆̎̋̇̏̃̏̆͂́̾̓̽̿͂͛̋̕ͅ ̴̻̤̜̻̰̰̟̘̱͓̞͈̾́͐͂ ̷̧̦̙͎̼̲͖̪̞͎̩̗̬̮̬̬͓̞͌̈́̈́͑̓̍̃̾̈́̊̃̽͆̊̆̌̇̀͒̅̀̓̑̌̏̄̕͘͜͠͝ͅͅ�̵̧͓͈̖̫̹̲̬̗̺̗̤̭͚͋̈́̄͛̉̀͛̅̎́̓̀͐͛͂̊̓̐̍̕͝ͅ�̸̡̛͉̘͔̲̓̓̋̀̈́̅̈́͆͌͛̌͛̇̊̊̎̊̽̇̐ ̴̪̥̪̊̔̅̄̅̋ ̴̧̧̤̰̩̮̭̜̼̦̩̝̝̮͎̼̼̹̺̳̤͖̤̠̤̼̦̓̂̔̊̔͋̈̇̃̓̅̔͝�̶̧̡̨̤̻̼̯̖̺̯̞̪͕̞̘̖̯̩̄̂̈̔̾̾́̕�̷̳̳̮̲͈͙̪̙͈̹̱̖̮̱͎̩̫̬̄́̐̄́̐͗̽̌͆͆̔̓̈͜͝
⋘̶̺͙̼͖͕̈́̔͋́͌͋̐̈́̾̈́͋ ̵̨̮͚͓̣̩̟̹͙̬̰͚͚̖̼̓̑͒̊̊̍̈́̏́̔͊͐̃̊́̉̈́̎̈́̀̅̎̕͜͝͝͝ͅ�̵͓͉̜̲̙̣͙̐̌́̆̎̊̓̄͒͆̊͂͊̍̓͘�̷̧̼̭̺̟̭͈̬̮̺͓̖͎̼̹̘̭̓͌͒́̃̇̉ͅͅ�̷̡̨̡̛͈̹̻̗͍̫͍̺̮͚̄̿͑̈́͒͐́̃�̶̢̫͚̭̠̗̩͔͕̫͖̰̦̺̺̘̥͙͕̈̅̓̅́̈̐̃̑̈́̑͘̕̚͝ͅ�̶̪̍�̷̡̧̗͓̫̫̦͔̪͖̠̼̖̝̗̤͇̘̻͈̖̲͍̪͒̈́̊͊́̍̄̂̊̿̅̔̈́̉͗͘͝͠�̶̧̡̛̰̝̣͍̖̥͕̼̳̹̝̀̉̈́͝ͅͅ�̵̺̖̱̮̹̖̼͚̺͉̲̪̲̺͓̻̫͈̈́̀͆̓͂̀̐̿͋̕͜͝͠ͅ�̴̡͍͒̐͂͊͋̀̚�̶̳̝̞̰̫̖͍̯͓̲̩̪̦͙͍̱͇͖͖̪͈̓̃͒͌̀̊̓̾̑͂̄͗̾̍̃͘͜͝͝�̷̡͓̬̲̼̳̩̬̥̗͎̝̤̺̱̩̌̆̒̓̐̽̇̚͘͜͜͝ͅ�̸̢̛̱̠̬̖͎̖̟͕̯͚͉̫̣͕̘̟̰̞̥̮̳͚̠͍͂͒̈́̍̆̿͋̕͜�̷̢̧̧̡͖̦̳̹͕̠͓̟̯͈̺̘̼͇̭̬̖͓̰̲̝͋̅̇̅̽͊͊̌̋̉̄͛͊͐̔̈́̕̚�̶̨̧̣̟̻͕̠̯̬͔̠͕̮̜̺͓̲̯̼͇͉͙͚͎̠̀̿̈́͆̀̌͛͜ ̴̡̨̢̝͕̟̼̣̪̦̻̜͇̥̱̺̤̍̈́́̅̆͌̎̅͛́̓̓͋̋͛̃̚̚͠�̴̧͖̹̥̬̞͐͗̉́̓̂͑̆͋̕͝͝͝ͅ�̵̧͔͙͇̲̟̜̮́̑̀̊́̀͂͐̏̆̉́̌̏̾̊̈́̍̐̾̀͘�̵̡̱̜͖͖͔̪͂̀̋̎̔̄̓́̓̚̚�̸̢̢̡̢̜̥͇̫̰̫͉̘̙̟̥̬̻̲͈͔̯͖͎̠̯͚̀̄̐̓͌̄̓͛̔̾̈́͊̕̚͝͝�̸̥̞̬̩͆̔̀͐͗̃́͗͐̒́̀̐̕�̸̧̡͉̣̤̹͚̭̳͓̖̺̱̦͈̙̰̀̽̑͌̌̏̈̔́̊͘͠ͅͅ�̸̢̧̙̖̝͖͎̰̞̺̐̇́͒̃�̸̛̛̮̟̝͙̘̬̫͈̝͇̘̯̦̩̈́̄̉̾̆̽̑̄̋̀̊̎̍̓̉̓̄̄̀̾̚͝.̸̢͎̠̩̫͓̥̩͍̤͕̦̳̭̘̗̝̘̠̙̪̪̔̚͜͠ͅͅ.̶̨̢͎̘̱̻̥̘̤̮̥̹̱̰̣͇̠̔̾̆̓̂͌͌̆̒̀͌̕͜͠.̶̡̨̫̤͚͒͑̿̐̊̓̂͋̈́̑͒̎͊͋̎̈́̎͐̕̕ ̴̯̗̙̲̈́̈́͑̇̃̆̈͐̅̑͐͂͑͂̎̄̉̎̆̑̾̈́͌͛⋙̶̡̡̼̫̲̺̗̪͙̬̈̑̂̾̂́̓̀̈́͋͊̀̎͂̅͒͗͜͠ͅ
The VHS skips.
“Why do we even try that one anymore, Sampo?” You sighed deeply, letting out a breath you didn’t recognize you were holding. The VHS you had put on is carved deep into your memory, you remember watching it when you were younger, with your mom, but never seem to remember the details. It makes you uneasy watching it.
“‘Cause I want to see if it’ll work again.” He shrugs and gets up to change the video.
“Sampo, it hasn’t worked since mom… yeah. Since then.” You crossed your arms and looked away, regretting what you said.
Your brother chuckled dryly, “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”
An awkward silence fell between you two, the only noises being the shuffling of VHS cases and the light buzzing of the TV
“How about Aristocats ?” He held the dusty case up.
“Fuck yeah.”