No mind to think.
No will to break.
No voice to cry suffering.
Born of God and Void.
You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams.
You are the Vessel.
You are the Hollow Knight.
Jack Desmond was running under the heavy rain with a bag over his head as he had given his umbrella to an old lady on his way home, an act of generosity that wasn't out of place in the whimsical place of cartoons.
He had almost missed the dark shape sprawled out in an alleyway. Nothing too unusual, maybe some ne'er-do-wells or a goofy character caught in some mishap, but somehow, his gut told him that it felt different. Disturbingly out of place.
Hesitant yet worried, he trudges closer, his shoes being tainted with red as he knelt down beside the dark figure. “Hey, buddy, you alright?” he called out, voice full of concern. His fingers tentatively touched the man’s shoulder.
Jack gasped, pulling his hand back quickly. His fingers were smeared with something deeply red and thick. His brain blanks out as he processes what he's seeing. Ketchup? Paint? No, wait-
His spine crawls at the sight and he jolts up, gripping his wrist as if he'd just been burned by fire, confused eyes shaking yet staying transfixed on the injured person as he stumbles backwards. He takes a closer look at the man's face- or, just his entire self for that matter. Staring back at him was his face twisted into a harsh scowl, unconscious. Deep scars crisscrossed his face, making him look rather villainous.
This guy wasn’t a Toon. The thick dark coat, those scars- the blood. This man was from another genre, one that didn’t belong in their streets of lighthearted fun.
This was when Jack's mind remembered the news he'd been seeing lately. Reports of dangerous men, bad guys, causing unease in the city. His eyes caught sight of the gun tucked into the man’s coat, confirming Jack’s fears.
The Guktav, one of the biggest and most influential criminal syndicates in the Grim genre where this gloomy-looking person probably came from.
He wasn’t just hurt, he was dangerous. There were already plenty of news about these people doing serious harm to the citizens of this city, not even including the ones that's not covered by the media yet, and this man here was probably one of them.
His heart pounded in his chest, unsettled. “...S- serves him right.” Jack muttered, more to convince himself than anything else.
But the more he stared, the more the puddle of blood spread.
Jack’s stomach churned. He’d never seen anything like this in his life. The slapstick gags and violence he was used to always ended with a quick laugh and a bounce back. But this? This wasn’t funny. The sight made his insides twist.
Jack glanced down at his hands, still stained with blood. The rain hadn’t washed it away, no matter how hard it came down.
He slowly starts to walk away, ready to head home and call the authorities…. when his heart pounded in his chest, the conflicting battle of his mind and heart finally crashing down on him.
"Oh-! Applesticks!" Jack curses, turning back with a huff and stomping to the man. “This is a bad idea.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head as he bent down again-
Jack's heart nearly leapt out of his chest when the man's gruff hands grabbed unto his arms and pulled him down, bloodshot eyes glaring straight at him. Jack's legs felt weak, his knees buckling and harshly hitting the bloody floor, terrified as the man's stare told him all he needed to know.
Do anything bad and he'd kill him.
The man's eyelids twitched, pupils rolling back. His large body collapsed on top of the smaller man, making Jack stutter as he fell on his bum, unable to balance himself. Jack lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, staring at the unconscious man lying limp on his stomach, staining Jack's suit with his blood.
Jack Desmond swallows hard, his heart wavering. Was he really about to do this?
Someone passed me a note in my math class and when I opened it it was a drawing of a hare. The hare looked at me and said, “The mountains have roots. They want the sky back.” And then the ink seeped through the paper until I was holding a completely black and soaked note.
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