I saw someone's post saying that maybe sampo's face IS the mask, based off his combat lines, telling the enemy to "watch the face" the pose he stays at when he dies in combat and that hanabi light cone of him asking where his mask is, and sparkle saying, its on your face, like that is his real face and not a mask or something
I LOVE being delusional
Also an excuse to use a new brush that i saw on insta
Summary: Sampo finds himself chasing down more than just a tip when he hears tell of an aristocratic asshat attending one of Serval’s concerts. But what happens when the captain of the Silvermane Guard is in attendance?
Content Warnings: fluff, mild swearing, a quick fight scene, nothing intense here folks
Sampo knew he was full of shit. In many, many, many walks of life. Whether it be his shady, albeit incredibly lucrative, business practices or his inherent lack of regard for emotional vulnerability, Sampo was most always a man of anything except his word. It shouldn't have surprised him when this trend seeped into his affections. Well, that is if one can call the relationship between a captain and his most elusive bounty affectionate. Thankfully, that's where the vague silver lining of Sampo's nature makes its grand appearance: sheer romantic delusion.
As he strolled languidly through one of Boulder Town's few marketplaces, the poor man couldn't help but let his mind wander back to the conclusion of his last voyage to the surface.
The rush of the wind in his hair, the clamoring of the guards yards behind him, the racing thoughts of passages and shortcuts through the administrative district known only to him. All of a sudden, a pair of steadier, longer, quicker strides would cut through the kerfuffle, ringing out from directly behind Sampo.
Ah, right on time.
“You're not getting away this time, Koski!” Sharp as a knife, the man's voice would toll like a church bell behind him. The captain must be closing in on him. Again. Against his better judgment, Sampo glanced back-
“Hello? Sampo? Wildfire to Koski, do you read me?” an unwelcome call sounded beside him. He let out a soft gasp before turning swiftly to the familiar lady now at his side.
“Seele! Don't sneak up on me like that, I'll have a heart attack. It's in my blood, you know.” he fanned himself lightly, gingerly flourishing his other hand up to his temple.
“Save it, I see that look, lover-boy,” Seele grinned mercilessly. “It's him again, isn't it?”
Sampo groaned in annoyance and dropped both hands to his sides. She always had a way of shattering his perfect little walks down memory lane.
“Don't you have something better to be doing?”
“Oh absolutely I do. In fact, I'll keep this nice little tip all to myself. Maybe I'll even find another under-worldly fruit basket to give it to instead.” Seele shrugged and turned heel. Sampo's eyes widened as he stammered over himself briefly before blocking her path. An incredulous brow raised up in question.
“You? You're actually investing in my colorful little company? My thanks for supporting a small business, every little bit helps. Did I mention we do freebies with every order?” he rattled off quicker than a used cable-car salesman. As smoothly as he ran his mock pitch, Sampo was definitely thrown off his rhythm. Truth be told (for once), this was highly unlike Seele. A great deal of nagging in regards to his various escapades was typical, certainly. Routine, even. But never in a million light years would he have imagined her tipping him off.
“And to what do I owe this exceedingly rare occasion?” he questioned.
“First of all, no, never.” Seele shot him a look. “And for the record, I still haven't finished talking your ear off for your carelessness last time,” she grumbled through gritted teeth. Sampo's expression deadpanned as he sighed.
“Oh fine, fine. Just get to the point already.”
Seele took a deep breath before beginning again, “Serval has a gig tonight at the workshop, and someone in attendance is practically dripping with shields. If you're up for going topside, I'll give you her description.” Sampo visibly shuddered. The thought of attending one of Serval's concerts sounded wonderful in a musical sense. Nobody could deny her talent and passion. The thought of the musician themself, however, sent a chill down his spine. It would take a hefty payout for Sampo to agree to that level of exposure therapy.
“And what's in it for me?”
“Whatever she has on her that you can take without getting caught. Plus me off your back for a minute.” Seele's lip curled ever so slightly. “Oh and I believe a certain captain of the guard may be in attendance.” Sampo pretended to ignore the head rush and accompanying rouge tinting his complexion.
“Oh, hush it you,” the man mumbled, spreading a hand across his face to rub his temples. He paused for a minute before landing on his final hesitation.
“You know, in all of this, you still haven't fully explained exactly why you're breaking from your typical scolding to play cops and robbers. Who is this person to you? And what in the world could they have done to motivate you to seek me out?” Sampo prodded, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left. He folded his arms delicately, and Seele froze for a split second.
“What does it matter to you? There's money, go get em boy, fetch,” Seele answered sarcastically. Sampo raised his brows once again. He didn't buy that for a second. And Seele knew it. She let out a gruff sigh before balling her fists at her sides.
“She's pretentious. She's ugly. She's a spoiled, loudmouthed idiot preaching uninformed and ridiculous rhetoric to a rather large audience, and-”
“You mean she's shit-talking your Bronya,” Sampo interrupted. Seele stopped dead in her tracks and glared him down.
“Oh she is, isn't she?” A smugly drawn grin scribbled its way across Sampo's face as he watched Seele tense up, lips pursed and cheeks puffed. It was sweet how quickly she and Bronya had grown close. Sampo stifled a laugh remembering the animosity of their first encounters with each other. In comparison to their budding romance, their meeting may as well have been a court trial.
'Classic enemies to lovers.' he thought to himself.
“For the record, it's far more than 'shit-talking', asshole.” Seele barked. “She's the Supreme Guardian now, she has to be far more wary of senseless criticism. What if some of this mouth-breather's ideas start spreading, gaining traction. They could run a smear campaign, they could shift the Overton window, they could even-”
“Alright! Alright I get it already, aeons,” Sampo swiftly brought his hands up to his waist and huffed. “You don't have to justify being protective of your girlfriend, you know. And since when were you so involved in politics? What the hell is an Overton anyway?!”
Seele scoffed right back, rolling her eyes as a light dusty rose bloomed across her cheeks.
“Do you want the tip or not, you fucking rat?” Seele seethed as the embarrassment of the situation overtook her rationale. The man's demeanor shifted in an instant, and he took a slight step back.
“Yes. Pretty please?” Sampo batted his eyelashes daintily as the irises beneath them glimmered with the promise of shields. Seele sighed and brought her voice down to a soft whisper.
“Not a word to anyone about this, especially not our new Supreme Guardian.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, compatriot!”
“I hate you.”
___________________
Sampo should have expected Seele's description of his next paycheck to hold some merit. To his credit, he did to a degree. But the sheer volume of bullshit this woman spouted was a bit much to fully grasp. Between the snapshots of her B-grade attempts at a model's makeup styling and her oddly well maintained clothing, he could already tell exactly the type of person she was. But the firsthand accounts of her slander towards the lady Bronya were enough to move even him to violence. The priss in question, a one Ms. Kalaith, had gone so far as to create a blog dedicated to the critique of Bronya's leadership. Within it were at least a dozen posts tearing into Bronya's hide like a chainsaw. Critiques of everything as large as her overarching political ideals all the way down to how she chose to dress in office.
“Jesus, this early? Give her a chance at the very least,” Sampo thought as he skimmed the entries, shaking his head in disapproval. The man was never one for politics, but the venom contained in these paragraphs was more than enough to fuel the fire behind his little ATM errand. As he neared the entrance to the overworld, his mind couldn't help but wander to its residents. As well as its authoritative body.
“The Silvermane Guard..,” Sampo mentally trailed off. A thin wisp of a smile settled on his lips as he recalled his adversaries up top. As well as their studious captain.
Gepard Landau had headed off the Silvermane Guards for quite awhile now. And so long as had been captain, so long had their dance flowed on. A thrilling chase here, a narrow escape there. And of course, none of this would be complete without the almost amorous banter between the two.
“Of course not! I have absolute faith in you, Geppie!” Sampo shouted over his shoulder before sprinting down a narrow, decrepit alleyway he was certain a man of Gepard's stature and rigidity couldn't clear. He vaulted a worn supply crate, hitting the ground running before slyly chuckling under his breath.
'Too slow, cap'.' he thought to himself.
One could imagine his surprise when a loud grunt of effort echoed down the alley. Sampo shot a glance backward and his eyes widened with horror. Not only was Gepard keeping pace with the felon; He was gaining on him.
'Shit,' Sampo thought as he frantically searched for ways to gain the upper hand. Spying none, he returned to his roots.
“Wow, you're getting quicker! Have you been working out?” he called over his shoulder. He vaguely heard the captain sputter behind him.
“I train relentlessly to prepare for these exact encounters, you lowlife!” Gepard snapped from behind him.
“Really? All that just for little old me? Oh Geppie, you shouldn't have!” Sampo laughed before finally setting his sights on a window ledge jutting from the side of the slim passage.
Smirking, the criminal leapt for the platform, hoping to gain access to a rooftop or at least vary up his tread. As usual: disaster struck. The flimsy aging stone crumbled beneath his weight and sent him somersaulting forward into the pavement with a loud 'oomph!'. Sampo groaned in pain, attempting to get his footing beneath him again. It was then that something, rather someone, slammed into his side with the force of a linebacker, pinning his arms to his sides.
“Sampo Koski,” Captain Gepard huffed, heaving over-top the ruffled crook, “You're under arrest.”
“The fuck I am-” Sampo raised a brow in offense as he swiftly shifted his weight to slam Gepard into the wall of the alley. He let out a gasp as the impact stole the breath from his lungs. Sampo leapt up quickly pressing the heel of his boot into the captain's sternum. He watched as Gepard coughed, almost retching from the impact. His gaze lifted to Sampo's, seething with frustration. Deep beneath it, Sampo almost thought he detected an undertone of relief. And further down, something he couldn't quite put a finger on. The captain coughed again, this time convulsing mildly.
'Shit,' Sampo thought once more. He gingerly lifted his boot and winced.
“Ooh, sorry. That was a bit rougher than intended,” he apologized. “You alright down there, Gep-?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Gepard spat, maintaining his icy stare. It required every bit of Sampo's resolve not to break off eye contact immediately.
'If looks could kill,' he remarked wryly in his head.
It was then that Gepard swept a leg out towards Sampo's ankles. He jumped back with a start, chuckling as he did.
“Easy, cap. That wall was none too forgiving,” Sampo remarked. His hand raised instinctively to help Gepard up, but he quickly concealed it as a dismissive wave.
“I'll get you for this, Koski. I swear-” Gepard grunted, attempting to prop himself up on a shaking elbow. This window of escape would have been perfect. But something in Sampo compelled him to stay. For a moment, his facade flickered, and he frowned softly.
“Are you hurt?”
Gepard's glare morphed into disbelief.
“What?”
“I said, 'Are you hurt?',” Sampo repeated softly. Gepard's ocean eyes were churning with tide. That same emotion breaking through the waves just long enough for Sampo to notice, and yet too fleeting to identify. When the captain spoke, his tone had softened to a begrudging huff.
“No, I'm perfectly fine.” he breathed out slowly, still recovering from the loss of air. He parted his lips, as if about to ask something. But in the distance, the pair heard a stampede of Silvermane Guards nearing their alley. Sampo sighed before retreating back into himself.
“Sorry Goldilocks,” Sampo grimaced before carefully tossing one of his signature smoke bombs onto the pavement.
“Sampo, wait-” Gepard started.
'He said my name.'
But the plumes of smoke were already rising.
As Gepard cursed and coughed, Sampo decided to take a risk. He took a cautious stride towards the captain's voice and sensed the outline of him at his feet. In one fluid motion, he knelt down, smiled gently, and whispered:
“Til next time, dear.”
A bitter chill swept Sampo's bangs into his eyes, signaling his arrival in the overworld of Belobog. He shook the thoughts of Gepard from his head. That was right. He had a job to do.
(There’s Part 1 Folks! If you liked this, please feel free to like and reblog or pass it along! I sincerely hope you enjoyed, and worry not, I’m working on part 2 as I type. Hope you enjoyed! -Thorin)
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