Midnight was an interesting time in Below. Especially in the deserted industrial park. "Plague City" they called it. There were all kinds of ghost stories and tales about the strange noises and movement seen around its concrete walls, beyond the fences topped with barbed wire. Only the truly brave dared to sneak in.
It was said that once upon a time the property served as an old jail, and if you stood at the fence under a still evening, the sky pregnant with the light of the full moon, you could almost hear the shackles of the prisoners and their sickly sobs. It was passed around from junior and senior alike that the prisoner's screams could be heard on a loop as the guards set the jail on fire, trying to burn away the disease that had spread amongst the inmates. Any amount of digging on the property site turned up hints indicating that, perhaps, such a horrific event may have actually taken place. But there was never quite enough proof to confirm one way or another what really happened.
The site was later repurposed for a factory to help promote job growth and aid in the economy during the war, but was later abandoned as the war's end neared. The facility had been proclaimed cursed due to one too many outbreaks ravished the population, resulting in the eternal rest of dozens of employees. Nobody wanted a space with that much death recorded in its history.
Just the way Mother liked it.
Nowadays the location usually only saw inquisitive students and taggers wander on to the grounds. More often than not it didn't take long for each curious face to twist and contort in fear, turning on their heels and bolting from the site as they screamed in terror, and every time they vowed never to return.
Loki knew why. He knew what true horrors lurked deep inside the facility. He was one of the ghouls that haunted the old jailyard, after all.
Since his disappearance Loki had lost his taste for chaos, choosing to lurk outdoors through the shadows so as not to draw attention to his family while they conducted business indoors. Instead, Loki occupied his time creating massive murals with spray paint while his family did unspeakable things to Gods only know who. The walls around these parts were practically littered in his handy work.
The hallowed clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as Loki spotted a new tag obstructing his most recent masterpiece. One thing the boy had needed to learn quickly was the concept of impermanence. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way. Nothing was forever.
Lifting the bandana around his face to prevent himself from inhaling too many fumes, Loki set his bag of spray paints down on the ground. The hallowed unzipped his duffle and peered inside at the contents. Luckily the hybrid didn't have to worry about any patrols around these parts, so Loki could come packing an entire arsenal of coloured paints without the threat of facing consequences at the hands of the police. Vandalism would be the least of their concerns if law enforcement ever decided to take an interest in Plague City.
Plucking the first colour of paint from the black leather bag, Loki gave the bottle a quick shake before righting himself. The hallowed popped the lid off the top of the can and pressed down on the nozzle, letting the art flow through his hands and cleared his mind.
One Little Jay
Tag bby! I hope this works okay for you to set the scene!
