Chapter Text
"Velvet, Veneer! Over here!"
"What's next for you?"
"Do you regret using those trolls or could you not care less?"
"Velvet, thoughts on your brother's sell-out?"
"Do the trolls have the rights to the songs you used their talents for?"
"Are there any more hidden trolls?"
Between the bright flashes of cameras and disgusted looks came burning questions that melted into the former-pop stars' skins each time they arrived. Like lava from a freshly erupted volcano, the interrogations flowed nonstop into their hot ears without permission and therefore burned them down as hot drops kept raining and raining and raining on them with no escape. Not to mention the hot glares of not-so-happy fans or the remarks of those still in shock after Veneer's confession that made his and Velvet's tower of fame crumble into ashes.
Crimp hadn't been seen since she popped those pesky cuffs on their fingers as actual officials — albeit probably not even that much older than them, what a joke — escorted them through the nosy and desperate crowd in search of the police car. That itself was a journey on its own. Reporters pushed and shoved and all-else to get their next big story and even bigger raise. Hell, the majority of their questions couldn't even be distinguished as they came so fast and fully formed that they blended in with each other. The officers attempted to remove them from the two (in)famous stars, although that proved futile. Mount Rageons knew a scandal when they saw it.
And when that scandal involved the biggest stars on the mount with the added detail of an open confession? Of course they’re gonna cling onto it without any plan of letting go
That’s what killed Veneer as the door shut behind him, courtesy of the kind officer. His head laid on a pillow of defeat against the seat while the cries and questions of those outside bounced against the windows. All of the work they did to become unforgettable did its job in the worst possible way.
In a way, though, he was so, so, so grateful to be in this car. No longer beneath judging eyes or in front of those he and his sister betrayed. No one can burst in here and force answers out of him to make him feel worse than he already felt. He didn’t have to look any of them in the eye. He’s safe here. He didn’t have to face any of the Rageons he betrayed….
Except the one that felt his betrayal the most.
Velvet had been put on the other side of the car next to the window without a word said — that last part brought confusion on whether he should be grateful or absolutely terrified. As bad and scary as it felt when she did open her mouth and take her anger out, somehow her being completely quiet didn’t make him feel any better.
Although under these circumstances…her being silent made so much sense.
Ever since they were young, Velvet always had a plan full of ambition. Everything that formed an idea into that sick head of hers, she made sure to put it on paper and bring it to life.
That didn’t even limit to being famous or taking over the media charts. If she wanted that new dollhouse for Christmas, she’ll torture their parents to no end until she had it in her possession. If she wanted to make the highest score on a test, she’ll find a fake answer key and pass it around to unsuspecting classmates under the lie that she had stolen the actual test — and, of course, she’d be the only one to make it out with an A. More importantly, if she wanted to get revenge on someone for whatever little reason…she’d pull all the stops to do so.
That’s the scary part about her. Ambition was only good when used for good.
Of course, he remembers as he shyly glances at her silent stiffness for less than a second, that ambition gave him more benefits than he could count.
Being the shyer of the duo, that made him an easy target at school when they attended. Veneer avoided confrontation when possible because…well, that’s how he is. As pissed off as it made him, he didn’t dare talk back (much) or do anything about it. It especially escalated when rumors of him being gay went around, and while there wasn’t room for homophobia, it made for plenty of jokes.
The last joke was on those people when it reached Velvet.
That one rumor went into her ear and she took it upon herself to make those who dared mock her brother live to regret it — and she did. Whatever she did, it worked like a charm, because his name hadn’t been in anyone else’s mouth ever since…even with the consequence of no one being his friend or talking to him, but hey, his sister was there…
To make gay remarks herself.
But of course! That’s only minor. Her ambition granted him a bully-free lifestyle…mostly.
Not to mention when they were very young and Veneer wanted a pet as much as a dog wanted a bone. Pets weren’t allowed in their suburban household as they were deemed ‘too much responsibility’ — apparently Velvet and Veneer were, too, as their parents preferred their dental job over them a lot of times — and it took Velvet to throw her tantrums to finally make them give in.
Hooray, and what did they choose? Low maintenance fish, with Veneer choosing the gorgeous name of Sparkles for his and Velvet not really naming hers. Not that she got a chance to because it died not even a week later.
It was okay — he had Sparkles.
Until she ‘accidentally’ knocked the bowl over while he wasn’t around, shattering it and letting poor Sparkles suffer a long, dry death. Of course when Veneer saw his first and only pet dead through his tears, Velvet swore up and down it was okay (that his fish died, not okay that her jealousy drove her into murder) and plopped Sparkles down the toilet.
…Once again, it’s okay. He got Sparkles, he lost Sparkles. It was better than not having them at all (it wasn’t.)
Those goals didn’t hold a candle to the ambition she’s had for them since birth — fame.
Velvet wasn’t special as she had the dream every Mount Rageon had — to be famous, make a name, upgrade from being a nobody suburban child of dentists to a somebody that everybody thought of in their dreams. She wanted to be the thing her people ate, breathed, and lived. Being the bratty kid of dentists didn’t pave that path for her, so she did it herself.
Between her violent outbursts and verbal assaults, Veneer picked out those sweet nights they stayed up together dreaming of their money-filled future. Veneer himself didn’t believe too much in it, but Velvet swore over her dead body she’d get them there…without mentioning troll-napping and torture, unfortunately.
They had to work, she said. Work hard, live fast, keep making that money.
As impossible as it looked back then and especially when she forced him to leave their home at 15 with barely any money — the reasoning being that she was sick of their parents for…actually valid reasons, but was it worth leaving over? — and no cushion to land on, she did it.
Velvet only had enough money for a small enough apartment for them. Veneer admittedly was afraid of this as they had no solid plan other than to get famous. At 15, Velvet tried to jumpstart their career and failed terribly, as her singing talent wasn’t up to par for the big city.
15 came and went and 16 arrived with a harder blow.
Their parents were begging them to come home in letters. Veneer, even in this cop car, remembers the day he caught his sister scanning the first letter with angry, narrowed eyes. When he asked to see it she had crumbled it up and hid it with a sour, ‘None of your goddamn business.’
It took him to catch the mail before her to finally find one from their mother telling them — Velvet, especially — that they were dumb as hell and shouldn’t have gone into this prematurely. Their mother reprimanded her for forcing Veneer out of their hands with no money to take care of either of them and that she was a selfish brat as always for doing so. Velvet got hell as well about ‘You better not be hurting your brother’ and all else. Which…was sad, to be honest. She hadn’t hurt him anymore than she had when they were still at home.
That same year they faced eviction and Velvet kept spending money on rent and trying to get a career started. The slums certainly didn’t look good for them. Veneer recalls begging her to give it up and go home…to no avail.
17 came at the same time their little money left. The idea of stardom remained planted in Velvet.
Veneer got tired of it eventually and told her he was going back home. That resulted in a big fight about him not being ‘grateful’ for all she’s sacrificed, and while he quickly cowered out, it didn’t stop her from going the extra mile and wrapping her hand around his tiny throat while cornering him against the wall.
She’d been violent with him before. Over this? No. Smaller things.
This big thing she got upset over pushed her over the limit, and, well, maybe he deserved it. Maybe he deserved the tears and marks that remained on him for the next few days for trying to give up on them — on her. Besides, he couldn’t be mad for long. Not when 2 weeks later he found a cupcake on the table with a dim candle and a note reading, ‘Happy late birthday’. His tears and chokes for breath didn’t matter at that point.
Then Velvet came and proved that his leaving would’ve ruined everything, as not even a few weeks later they became the biggest names on Mount Rageous.
….In very, very illegal means, yes.
But she did it. She did her work and cheated her way into stardom, like she promised Veneer she would. She gave him the life he wanted — yachts, money, fans, fame.
Velvet, his sister, kept her promise to make this entire planet remember their names.
And Veneer helped in the way she loathed most, which got them handcuffed.
But he did the right thing…he knew he did, even if his heart kept hurting him and screaming that he didn’t. Floyd was nothing but good to him and Veneer didn’t think he could perform with the knowledge that murder could’ve been added to his charges of troll-napping (that’s 5 years), troll torture (make that 5 more…), and tax evasion (plus 1 and a very large fine). Murder would add 10 more years or even life.
…Yikes.
The car hasn't moved as damage and crowd control was being handled outside. The inside remained clouded with silence. Veneer’s eyes tilted to Velvet once again.
Hair’s a mess. Mouth and posture are stiff. Eyes narrowed. And a slight tremble that said the seams holding her anger together were ready to bust.
God, she’s so mad at him…
As materialistic as he is, Velvet held the biggest place in Veneer’s heart. She meant more than all the mansions, yachts, and money in the world. Hell, if God came and said he could only keep either his parents or Velvet, he’d keep his sister in a second.
He loved her so much she didn’t even know.
But one doesn’t normally make the person they care about most upset, right? They don’t watch them work from the dirt up to the top of the pyramid, then proceed to knock over that pyramid in front of literally everyone just to say that they were frauds? She took care of him all this time and he did that. For one troll. For one life he couldn’t stomach taking.
Veneer couldn’t sit like this to see Velvet fall apart internally. He wanted to tell her that even after he ruined everything, he loved her more than the fame and glory they had and whatever else they could’ve possessed.
“Velvs…” The pathetically quiet nickname came into barely a whisper. Whether she heard it or not, she didn’t make the effort to look at him. “I’m…sorry. So damn sorry. Look, I couldn’t keep…I couldn’t keep cheating. I-I couldn’t keep hurting creatures 7 times smaller than us!” If one looked close enough, they could catch the slightest of eye twitches from the girl. His desperation translated into his words like a plea deal. “I know how much this meant to you but…I couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”
His apology was the most truthful thing he’s said since the confession. Of course, this didn’t make the first time he profusely apologized to his sister for fucking up. If available, the dude could get a Masters degree in Apologies and even a Doctorate in Fuck-Up-ology.
Veneer apologized for being born.
He apologized for ‘attacking’ her by asking why she was out late when they were younger.
He apologized for not being good enough.
He apologized for being him.
She didn’t directly accept or not-accept. Whether it was a slap or a yell or a scratch on his face, he accepted those as responses. What’s this one gonna be?
After a long, dreary line of silence, Veneer got an answer — well, question.
“...You’re sorry?”
The tone of her voice far from implied a sweet shock that maybe he really felt bad about this. It mocked him more than anything, which hurt worse than any punch or kick she’d inflicted.
Veneer watches Velvet carefully, a look of sarcastic mock painting her expression. “You’re sorry. Is that what I just heard?”
Veneer wasn’t dumb enough to respond to that.
“Y’know, me, momma, and dad were right. I always knew I was right to diagnose you.”
His brows knit together. Diagnosed? With what, anxiety? “Diagnose me?”
“With Little Bitch-itis, Veneer.” His shoulders went down into Hell with the heated daggers being shot from her angry blue eyes to his. His bottom lip trembled as if she had bit him with her venom, which at this point could kill every Rageon, Bergen, and Troll to walk the planet. “That’s all you are and ever have been! God, you’re such a wuss and it’s not even fucking funny!” Velvet’s voice rose with ease. “I would’ve been better off wrapping your umbilical cord around your throat so you wouldn’t have to grow up into…this!”
Veneer’s throat constricted within itself, something it always did when he got yelled at. It did that to keep his stupid vocal cords from letting out some pathetic cry of defense, and also as a warning that his tears had their bags packed and ready to take off when he was.
Her argument didn’t stop there — far from it. “Couldn’t defend himself from dumbasses in uniforms. Couldn’t speak the hell up when he wanted something. Couldn’t go through with ‘dangerous’ plans — remember when I had to drag you to that party when we were 14?!” Yep. He did. And he was so scared of getting caught that Velvet literally had to threaten him with blackmail to make him oblige. “And I still did all the work for you — I made you a star! I gave you everything you were too big of a pussy to get yourself! And what did you do? THROW IT AWAY! Because of your precious little morals!”
“We were about to kill the little guy, Velvs!” Veneer defends, not exactly loud but enough to hopefully get his point across. “I’m so sorry if this goes against everything you stand for, but I’m not okay with draining little trolls of their talent for 15 minutes of fame!”
“Oh for God’s sake, they’re trolls! They’re like ants! They’re so replaceable that it isn’t even funny.” Velvet scoffed angrily. “Pfft, and you’re talking about morals. They weren’t there when you were huffing his essence like protein powder, were they, baby brother?”
Velvet’s smile slowly grew because she had that confident feeling that she had him against the wall with that one.
And…she kinda did. Veneer realized that as he unintentionally shrunk back against the car door. Even though Velvet took Floyd and exploited him for his essence the most, Veneer didn’t exactly do any better by refusing. He used the poor creature as well, as wrong as it is. Even if he eventually came to his senses because he was the only sibling that realized that they were at a loss that couldn’t be helped, even going so far as accepting this loss and confessing their crimes, he too got so up the tower of glory that he was just as blind to his crime as Velvet.
But that’s the difference.
Veneer admittedly felt bad for it while Velvet felt worse for not being able to exploit Floyd or the rest of BroZone again.
Besides…it’s not like he enjoyed seeing Floyd suffer — not as time went on. He tried to accept this because of Velvet’s demand, but the more he saw Floyd drain of his color and reach the brink of death, glory and iconity didn’t seem as appetizing.
Not that he could openly say that and possibly get his ass kicked when they were still positively relevant.
But goddamn, at least he’s open to clearing his conscience and owning up to his crimes. She can’t hold that against him…can she?
Of course she can. She always finds a way to do so.
His teeth teased his lower lip with a brewing anxiousness at her accusation. Even in his defense, what can he say to that?
“You huffed it in just like I did, you hypocrite. Don’t try to act like Jesus now.” Velvet’s ridiculing pierced through his already sore heart like a hot iron, and she knew it. Even through her forced smile, her vexation still spilled from the fire in her eyes. Veneer was the thing she hated the most in the entire cosmos right now. “And that cute little ‘confession’? Is that the thanks I get?”
Swallowing his anxiety, Veneer speaks up with a slight frown. “Thanks for what? Using me to torture Floyd and his brothers? For breaking up a family? For slapping me?”
“For giving a damn about you.”
Veneer’s jaw dropped, but no words left it.
“Think about it, fool.” Velvet’s glare scanned him like an X-Ray, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller. “Mom and Dad couldn’t have cared less about you and me. They’re nobodies and wanted us to be the same way!”
“Stop calling them nobodies!”
“Well shit, are they on every billboard?”
“That’s not even a fair comparison! They loved us—”
“Yeah, because parents that love their children spend more time pulling teeth than with their own walking fetuses. Real smart, Ven.” His frown deepened the more she went on, not that she cared. “Sure, we saw them at the dinner table and sometimes on their days off. But, hmm…how much attention did they pay to us if I wasn’t fucking screaming at them? You think they would’ve gotten you Sparkles if I didn’t make them do it? Think they weren’t happy when I made us move out?”
Veneer clenched his fists to the best of his ability with the finger-cuffs. “I saw the letters, Velvs. They were telling you to come home because they knew we weren’t gonna make it.”
“Oh please, that was for show. Ven, who stayed with you when they left us at home alone? Me. Who taught you how to cook when you got up in age? And made sure you didn’t die of loneliness? Not to mention taught you how to use makeup and nail polish to the furthest extent of use.”
…Her.
“Let’s not forget your biggest supporter when people started figuring out you were a fruitcake. Think daddy liked that? That his only son was the twinkiest twink to ever twink on this planet?”
No. He didn’t. If he didn’t pay attention to Veneer before, he definitely didn’t bother with him after that.
“Hm, he almost kicked you out!” She grinned at him. “I told him I would make his and mom’s lives a fucking nightmare if he did. And did he kick you out? No! Because of who? The person you betrayed, Veneer! I’m the reason you weren’t in the streets!”
“Stop it!” His eyes shut as tightly as they could to form a dam strong enough to hopefully keep his tears from breaking through. Veneer knew his father didn’t approve of his sexual orientation, but the fact he could’ve been on the streets never made it to him until now. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his parents too, but…”Just shut up—!’
But she didn’t. “Know what else, you twink?” Stop calling me that, stop calling me that… “Remember the amount of friends you had? Yeah, me neither, because they didn’t exist.”
That was actually Velvet’s fault more than anything, not that Veneer went aware of it. She’s a terrifying force to be reckoned with. And given she remained by him 24/7, no one dared to approach her without reason, and it was just too easy to spoonfed her brother that people thought he was a weirdo. Even aside from the bullies, he could’ve had a friend or two if Velvet wasn’t…her.
“I had to hold your hand through literally everything!” Velvet ignored how her brother cowered with tightly shut eyes, trembling uncontrollably. Her voice was so loud that his ears were on the brink of ringing. Her fury-laced tone paved the road for those seams holding her together to pop open one by one. “Because no one else gave a single damn about you! I’m the reason you’re alive! And rich! I made your dreams come true. All of my hard work to get you out of those disastrous suburbs and onto top charts went down the drain—” She moved her index fingers in a downward spiral movement for emphasis. “ —Because you wanted to be noble!”
“Velvs-”
“I did everything for you and you thank me by pulling that stunt at the Rage Dome!”
“I know you did everything for me! And I’m so grateful for you, you don’t even know Velvs, but you seriously can’t see why what we were doing was…I don’t know…wrong???”
Her face gradually blended into a red color, chest heaving. “We had everything! Even with as pathetic as you are, I brought you on top! And that stupid troll? You surrendered to something that I could’ve stepped on and killed?! Is that your idea of thanking me?!”
“VELVET!”
Veneer’s cracked voice boomed against her burning ears. His eyes shot open, completely fed up now, but also heartbroken. Thin black mascara marks painted his pale cheeks with angry trails as he stared at his deranged sister with all the emotion in the world.
“I get it! You took care of me, raised me, protected me, whatever! I get it! You think I don’t?!” His tear streaks spread to his chin the more his dam broke, because, honestly, his tears just couldn’t be contained. “And God knows I love you and everything you’ve done. I know I’m a nobody and would’ve ended up like our parents if you hadn’t forced me to move to the city with you. But as much as I love and appreciate you as not only my sister, but also my only friend, I would go to the ends of the Earth for you…but murdering little trolls for fame that’ll diminish when we get old and die isn’t worth it!”
“Oh give me a break— our names would have outlived most of these pathetic Mount Rageons.”
“At what cost, Velvs?! How many trolls were you willing to kill? BroZone and how many others? How many moms and dads and sisters and brothers were you willing to get your high out of just so the next generation can know who we are?” His fully formed words didn’t seem to register to her nor make her care, and that upset him even more. “...And children. Adolescent trolls! Were you gonna snag them up too?”
Velvet crossed her arms with a sharp glare. “If that’s what it took. So be it. I would’ve bred them if the situation called for it.”
That hit him like a brick. Breeding trolls…that thought never even crossed his mind. Was that even possible?!
His stare couldn’t have shown more disbelief. “You’re…so sick.”
“Here’s some advice, you poor, saint fool — You can either take risks and be the star of the show, or be a scrapped piece of concept art. It’s just business.”
Show business. Velvet’s version of it, at least.
As fucked as the analogy is, it still applied to Mount Rageous as a whole. The floating city was its own mouth, to be honest. You can go in and if you don't become the somebody you wanted, it can chew you up and spit you into a disgusting wad onto the dirty ground with no second glance.
They were chewed continuously for the first couple of years until Velvet gave them enough flavor to become relevant. Next thing they knew, they were on album covers, billboards, ads, posters, social media…
Of them, though, Velvet clearly ate the spotlight the most, as she was usually upfront and center while Veneer was either at her side or somewhere behind her. She modeled the most and even led in vocals, while her brother was just the secondary backup.
She took the lead in interviews (and was much better than the nervous wreck of a backup brother) — as shown in the interview with the cute host Veneer liked a bit, Kid Ritz. His fruitcake detector went off a little, but didn’t comment on it as it probably wasn’t even true. Velvet also took the spotlight on magazine covers. And who was it she said was her biggest inspiration?
Her, of course.
Veneer sure was proud of her. And…
…Who else? Their fans?
Definitely not their parents. Whatever Velvet said to them during their time in poverty most likely ruined any chances of reconciliation.
Any extended family they had probably didn’t exist.
All of their schoolmates were deathly (and rightfully) afraid of her.
So…who else would bask in her success other than him?
No one. And Veneer realized that.
“You talk so much about being the only one who gave a damn about me, but…” She really didn’t, as everyone else saw, but Veneer was too affection-starved to notice it. “...You don’t realize I’m the only one who gives a damn about you, too.”
Velvet’s confident (and fury-filled) stance tightened along with her lip. “Excuse you?”
The epiphany swam inside of Veneer’s confused and starving veins, and translated beautifully in only semi-sure words. “Y-yeah, it’s true. I only have you, as bad as it is. But…you only have me, too.” His eyelids touched to release excess inky droplets. “Our parents don’t like us, you didn’t let anyone come around us…when our fans aren’t our fans anymore, I’m all you’ll have.”
For once inside this car, his words seemed to have touched her — not in the way he wanted, more in a ‘say one more word or you’re dead meat’ kind of way judging by how pissed she seemed to get. But it’s the truth, and someone as stubborn as Velvet needs to get out of her petty denial to realize it.
“Shut. Up. Now.” She demands lowly as a dark warning.
But he didn’t. He refused. “N-no, Velvs. You need to see it. I’m all you have and you’re all I have— all we have is each other, and that’s been that way since birth.” Each word made it harder to speak, and each word angered his sister more and more. “I...I stuck with you before and after the whole fame thing. I always will, no matter how fucked your ideas are. Why? Because I know we aren’t worth a cent without each other, and you know it, too.” His gaze softened affectionately, hoping to get her to see reason.
“Veneer. Shut the fuck up—”
“You wouldn’t have gotten this much glory alone and you know it.”
The star siblings stared at each other in the eyes for an eternity.
The emotional heat in the small backspace hugged them so tight they could’ve suffocated.
Out of the fights they’ve had, Veneer rarely fought back. Velvet would usually be on the upper hand and throw him around like a ragdoll, and he’d take it, because he never had the heart to hurt her in any form or fashion. Not verbally, physically, or emotionally. He just didn’t have it in him.
Even now he wouldn’t count it as ‘fighting back’ because it was really just him pointing out facts and reason and praying she’d get out of her broken mindset long enough to see it. He didn’t hurt her…at least he doesn’t think. Not in his definition.
Velvet’s stillness brought on a new fear in him as this didn’t signal anything good for him. Was she taking in his points and ready to reconcile or was she planning on if she’s willing to get away with murder of her only sibling?
He didn’t have to wonder for long — the finger-cuffs shattered into two and Veneer was soon gasping for breath against his door.
All the resentment gathered miraculously over the years went into all the strength and pressure around his fragile throat. So much pressure in fact it exceeded any amount she’d ever put on him, so much anger and insanity being packed into two hands quickly cutting off his windpipe.
Veneer struggled to find a quick defense as his own cuffs were still locked onto his own —dammit, Crimp — but that didn’t mean he was about to lay there and let his psychotic sister kill him.
A thick band tightened around his head and brought a thick wave of dizziness on him, his vision slowly clouding over while any sort of oxygen failed to supply onto his body. He gasped desperately for any sort of assistance from nature, which proved futile. His eyes began watering again, but not in terms of crying, rather because of the unnatural pressure tightening around his throat.
Shit— Veneer tried to move away his clouded mind to put his body in defense, moving to try and throw her off as much as he could. He tried to shimmy his fingers from the tiny cuffs at the same time, which clearly told him he either needed to work out or that Velvet was stronger than she looked.
Finally, he took charge with a swift knee in the stomach, which brought out a pissed yelp and loosened her grip, so he continued to use that as his mechanism until he could sit back up and avoid her in the tiny space.
When she lunged at him, his platform met her cheek, and considering the size of his compared to her own…Velvet suffered a deep mark that went along the entire side of her face.
“You—”
“Velvs, calm down!” Veneer begged raspily considering he was still catching his breath, but Velvet ignored the plea, wiping the blood from the side of her lip to jump at him again.
Veneer eventually broke free from his tiny cuffs and was able to get a hold of one hand while the other went at his multi-colored neck again. Bruised and battered enough, Veneer kneed her multiple times to slow her down, which edged impossible when Velvet was this out of touch with reality.
“You— ruined— everything!” Velvet screamed with a rage he hadn’t seen in her in a long time, and holding her back got harder by the second. She soon outdid his tired arm and used her free hand to throw him to the other side of the car — her side — and strangle him there with the most crazed look he’s ever seen.
Veneer clawed tirelessly — not just at her hands, but at her face, arms, and chest, and continued putting up a fight. She began to look like him after one of her violent tantrums, which in hindsight hurt, but he’s literally getting attacked. And more importantly, he doesn’t wanna die.
Biting his lip to the point of bleeding, he stopped clawing to slap her, and used her quick stunned state to kick her off again and gain the lead. As much as it hurt his heart, Veneer hit her again to knock her down against the limited floor, and tried his damndest to hold her down.
“Velvet, it’s me!” She got a good scratch on his eye, making it water quickly. She began throwing hits and kicks of her own, and Veneer did all he could to reciprocate. “Dammit, Velvs, come back to me! You think I wanna fight with you?!” He pleaded, looking into her eyes with the small hope she was still there.
…But she wasn’t. The redness in her eyes let him know she wasn’t even in the same car as him, but rather in a place of her own Hell, one where Veneer was her enemy and the downfall of her success.
This she-devil he no longer recognized turned the tables as she was much stronger than Veneer, and threw so many good hits that it got the attention of the driving cops. A thin string of warm liquid played on his lips, not that he made the effort to wipe it off, but was rather focused on seeing tomorrow.
The car came to an abrupt stop and the door opened with force. An alarmed officer was on the other side — Velvet didn’t see him, and took the opening as a space to throw Veneer onto the ground to have a better beating space.
“Break it up, you two!” The officer calls for them, but neither can hear. Velvet is so caught up in choking and beating Veneer, and Veneer is clawing at her choking hand for dear life. “Hey! I said—”
Velvet quickly turned around to slam her fist onto the teenage officer’s face one good time, causing him to yell in excruciating pain, and continued yelling all sorts of profanities at the sibling below her along with using every fiber in her body to ruin him the way he ruined her career.
“YOU— FUCKING— IDIOT—!”
“Backup, I repeat, call for backup!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!”
The fight attracted a crowd the same way a light attracted moths. The beaten officer suffered a bloody nose, but with a hand to his injury, he called for extra forces and his partner attempted to hold the deranged ex-star back. She should’ve known better — Velvet wasn’t known to not put up a fight.
Veneer inched backwards when the female officer detained his sister. His chest hurt, his head, his throat especially. His head fell back onto the car with a brick of exhaustion. Every part of his body felt like it had been cut open by her furious claws, and they probably had. Velvet did a number on him. The little droplets of blood making a patterning around him only proved him right.
Backup came along with an ambulance…and paparazzi.
A medical Rageon came to examine his wounds, and while he couldn’t see clearly because of a red, warm liquid clouding his eyes, he knew the Rageon didn’t see anything good. Muffled voices, sirens. Jesus, what’s his name? Ugh…
Someone picks him up by his arms, but he couldn’t decipher who and where he was going. That is, until he stepped into a dark oblivion.
* * * * *
“You took quite a beating there, boy.”
A tiny little needle went in and out of his temple in a classically woven fashion to assist his blood cells in regeneration. At the same time a small bag of ice pressed itself against his abused neck.
Veneer woke up a little while ago from his unconscious paradise. Of course his awakening didn’t welcome him with a basket of roses — it chose an awesome bodyache and irregular breathing pattern, which by now had returned to normal.
The criminal sat in a medical room inside the prison — as informed — getting healed from whatever anomalies and scars and injuries had been inflicted, which…had been quite a lot. It’s officially stated that he suffered multiple scratch marks, a deep gash that remained in the process of stitching, bruises, a bleeding lip, and a bleeding nose that cured itself on the way there.
The injuries hurt, but knowing he did this to him hurt even more.
The Rageon stitching his gash took great care of him, which Veneer greatly appreciated. Then again…it’s his job.
“You should be making a full recovery, so no worries there. Just be careful and keep yourself rested, which you should have no problem doing in that cell of yours. Unless your mate keeps you up, that is.”
Veneer sighed, scared to speak because his vocal cords and windpipe weren’t getting along at the moment. “Is…is it my sister?”
The prison doctor paused his stitching for only a moment…and continued back.
“No. You won’t be seeing her for a long time.”
Why?
The question never made it to his tongue.
Veneer got fixed up and ordered to change into his prison uniform (ewwww—-), to which he obliged, and was also grateful that the guards understood he was in pain and couldn’t move at a fast pace. After taking his time to transition into that un-Rageon-like uniform, he was supplied another bag of ice and taken to his cell.
His cellmate was already there casually sitting on the bottom bunk. Unsurprisingly, his guessed age fell into around Veneer’s or a teenage spot. Now surprisingly, his mate looked way too chill for prison. Veneer questioned what the hell he did to end up here mentally.
“Angel, make your roommate feel comfortable, will you?”
“Don’t I always?” The prisoner looked up and smirked playfully, making the guard roll their eyes. Angel laughed softly with a (teasing?) welcoming wave to his new guest. He paused momentarily with a familiar gaze. “Hey, don’t I know you, kid?”
Probably.
Veneer dug his fingers into the disgusting sleeves of his uniform anxiously and chewed the inside of his cheek. “In spin of events, I’m pretty sure. But I’d feel better if you didn’t.”
Angel’s smirk grew gentle and he rose, walking over to him and putting out a hand. “Pfft, I’d be offended, but I’d do the same thing. Now come, we may be inmates, but let’s be inmates with manners.” His tone suggested he really wasn’t taking Veneer seriously in this situation. But he took his hand — reluctantly — anyway. “Fruitcake, meet Angel — that’ll be me. And I, Angel, am meeting Fruitcake.”
Veneer pulled his hand away and frowned slightly, but was too tired to make it a full on grimace. “Is that supposed to be a gay joke?”
Angel tilted his head innocently and put his hands in a prayer position. “Forgive me, sir. Am I supposed to assume you’re straight with how zesty you are in the media?”
“Am I really that…obvious?”
“If you’re straight, then I’m a monk.” Seeing the gloomy face on him, Angel changed his tone to one more fitting. “Sorry, sorry. Y’know, the crowd in this place isn’t open to my humor anyway. Thought you’d get a kick out of it or at least needed some jokes to heal you up faster given that you don’t look like you walked out of church. No offense.”
“None taken.” He brushed off, pressing the ice onto his neck. “So…top or bottom?”
“Take me on a date first, Fruitcake.”
Veneer’s face turned a flustered pink. “I— I meant in bunks!”
Angel bit his lip and burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh, you’re gonna be so fun to be with.” He gestured towards the bunks. “I already claimed top— I’m always on top.” Once again, Veneer looked absolutely mortified at the poor choice of wording, and Angel snickers once more. “Kidding, I swear. But yeah, I claimed top, hope you’re fine with bottom. I don’t think you’d be safe being on top anyway since you got your ass kicked. Why’re you here, anyway? Wasn’t it troll-napping and torture and what else?”
“Tax evasion…you’d think the other two would overshadow that. You?”
“The usual. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong girl. Wrong dead body. Wrong shovel. Wrong hole. Wrong bloody knife. Wrong witnesses. Wrong dismembered corpse.”
“...”
“Dude, I’m in here for insurance fraud.” Angel pauses thoughtfully. “And for having that weed, I guess. Like, I’m a teenager. Let me have fun.”
“Um…” Veneer pressed the ice onto another sore spot and gulped. God, he wants to go home— no, not home. Velvet. He wants to go to Velvet. Angel wasn’t bad but…God, his sister could be God-knows where right now and he’s not with her. “Hey…did you…happen to hear about what happened to my sister? I don’t expect you to but—”
Angel shook his head and tilted it towards the TV above. “Not too much other than what the paps filmed.” The green-haired Rageon looked up to meet a horrifying playback. It showed a close-up of Velvet’s assault and how pathetically weak his attempts at fighting back were literally doing nothing for him. Blood and bruises covered him from neck up, and Velvet had the giant bruise from his shoe as well as scratch marks. Then she turned around to smack the hell out of the officer, and quickly returned to her battery.
Commentary went over this from time to time, but he couldn’t be bothered by what theories the media had to say. He was more concerned over what happened after he passed out.
Not too long after, another officer grabbed a violent Velvet and attempted detainment. The ambulance came and did their thing, and Velvet remained at the scene.
…His jaw dropped to the floor.
After he left, he saw that Velvet didn’t plan on calming down. She screamed, fought, cursed, ranted about how she was gonna take over the charts solo and Veneer wouldn’t be around to ruin it. She immediately took control over the detaining officer and tried to damndest to fuck her up. The officer in question as well as another held her down as she continued to live a life of refusal.
Ambition was her best and worst trait.
When handcuffs didn’t work — as she wouldn't allow it — they went to a last resort that Veneer wouldn’t dare wish on his worst enemy.
They stabbed her with a taser.
Once.
Twice.
…Thrice.
They were about to do it a fourth time before they realized she had completely calmed down and was on the brink of unconsciousness.
As the screen fades into a news commentator about the incident, Veneer’s eyes threaten to burst all over again.
They literally put her into shock! And he fucking saw it with his own eyes!
Was that even called for?!
Velvs… His eyes glossed over with a drowning wave of sorrow for her. His mind spoon fed him the worst…what if she died? What if he never saw her again or she’s still alive — but will be put on life sentence for attempted murder? Oh God…let’s not even talk about execution.
She…she’s not a bad enough person for that.
She’s a good person. She just needs help.
Veneer can give it to her! If they just…let him go to her!
He can fix her— help her—
…He would if they’d let him out. He doesn’t even know where she is. Or if she’s even breathing after that.
Veneer is willing to lose every dollar remaining in their bank account, his parents, their assets, and literally everything else just to see if his sister is okay.
Blood is thicker than water, isn’t it?
Maybe.
What they won’t tell you is that in the end, they both stop flowing.