Chapter Text
When Veneer confessed their crimes on the biggest night of their careers, Velvet thought her life was over. Everything she'd done to get to this point meant nothing anymore. Her whole world crumbled around her. Even more than that, her brother admitted he was scared of her. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins at the confession. It felt like she'd been hit in the stomach, or had her chest carved open, aching and unable to breathe. Heartbeat racing, the pounding behind her ribs grew louder and quicker till she was certain everyone around her could hear it. Blood rushed to her head, her face heating as the warmth in her limbs subsided, an odd tingling feeling that she could only associate with panic spreading in its place. How could she have messed up so bad that her own brother was admitting he was scared of her in front of the entire city?
The salt in the wound was that traitorous little hairball of an assistant locking the thumbcuffs onto Velvet’s hands as she faced her brother. Anger flared in her, white hot like a branding iron, blocking out the freezing panic that had gripped her. How dare that ingrate throw her and her brother under the bus? She wanted nothing more than to lash out at the awful creature. A myriad of awful ideas of revenge blinked into Velvet’s mind, but she could do nothing. Every single camera in Mount Rageous was trained on the siblings as Crimp listed their crimes. For once, Velvet hated the attention. She wanted to break every camera- to shield herself from the prying eyes of the other Rageons.
The only respite was when she was locked in a squad car, though she did not go quietly. No, she cried and thrashed and screamed. Maybe if she looked distraught enough someone would take pity on her. The only person who did, of course, was Veneer. Velvet could see it in his eyes from behind the window of the neighboring cop car, despite his nonchalant reaction to being arrested. A lump formed in her throat at the sight and her insides seemed to twist. Most of her crying had been for show, but it took one pitying look from possibly the only other person she cared about to make her eyes burn and her throat tighten.
She'd been so concerned about herself and only herself. How could her brother find it in himself to feel anything but hatred for her when it was her scheming that got him arrested?
He was better than her, plain and simple. That should have been obvious, of course, but her damned arrogance wouldn't let her see that. Velvet was almost nauseous at the thought. That feeling of empty aching grew worse- the full gravity of the situation hitting her, and for what seemed like the first time, a sense of shame.
A growl building in the back of her throat at the feeling, Velvet beat on the car door with closed fists like a trapped animal, hitting the glass so viciously the car shook and her hand pinkened where they made contact. “Let me out,” she screeched, rattling the handle of the door. “I demand to be put in the same car as my brother!” Velvet knew they wouldn’t let her- perhaps so she wouldn’t attack him for exposing them, perhaps because it’s easier to escape with two. But she couldn’t just let them separate them from her. She’d been a bad enough sister already, Veneer had made that clear; the least she could do is stay by his side.
One of the arresting officers got into the car, slamming the door and pointedly ignoring the criminal in the backseat. Velvet lunged forward at the grate separating them, latching her fingers in the little spaces between the branching metal. “Don't you hear me, you moron? I want to be transported with my brother!”
The officer groaned a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes. He turned back to face the diva, looking at her harshly over the top edge of his sunglasses. “Criminals don't get to make demands,” he huffed in an annoyed tone. Velvet shook the grate, her face twisted into a scowl. “Don't you know who I am?” She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring furiously through the partition. The cop barked a laugh. “You could be the queen of Mount Rageous for all I care. If you found yourself on the wrong side of the law, that's your own fault.”
Turning to face forward, the officer started the car, clearly not interested in listening to Velvet's whining anymore. The pop-star, or more accurately, former pop-star turned criminal, flopped back into her seat. She gnawed at her lip, watching as the other squad car took off, carting her brother away. A pit opened in her stomach as it sped off, an endless feeling of dread and hopelessness overtaking the fury that burned inside her. She was never without her brother, at least not any time she could remember. Even her earliest memory of her childhood had him there as they sat alone in the living room, the exits child-gated off. She remembered standing at the plastic barrier, waiting for her parents to come out of their office or give them even a moment of attention, while Veneer happily entertained himself. Velvet frowned at the memory, tears pricking in her eyes. How odd she’d think of it now.
She hadn’t even realized that the car had been moving till the bustle of the crowd outside had faded away. Watching the neon lights of the city blur by Velvet began to think of what might happen to her and her brother. Prison, of course, but for how long? She wasn’t even entirely sure what prison was like, other than the ugly jumpsuits each inmate was forced to wear. Shuddering at the thought, she turned her thoughts to other aspects. Would she and her brother get a trial? How could she work it to their advantage? Her mind still felt frozen from panic.
Veneer’s look of disappointment from their confrontation flashed in her mind, and she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the massive flood of guilt crushing her. Attempting to cross her arms and failing due to the thumbcuffs, she made a decision. She’d done enough to hurt Veneer. Whatever she did from now on would benefit him first. If it helped her, well that was just luck.
By the time the ca r had pulled up to an exceedingly drab and inconspicuous building, Velvet had once more worked up her crocodile tears, making as much of a scene as she could. It was the only strategy she could think of at the moment, being flung so unceremoniously into the pits of drama, so it would have to do. She just hoped her pitiful display would inspire some sympathy for her and her brother.
Despite the building, which she could make out a sign designating it as the county jail through her teary eyes, being so completely lackluster, crowds of paparazzi gathered by the entrance. Velvet assumed they must have been tailing the cops that brought her brother in. Dozens of voices shouted at her as camera flashes assaulted her vision. Microphones were thrust in her direction, but the officer simply pushed her along as she tried to speak into them in an attempt to answer the questions and twist the narrative in her favor.
Once inside and away from the prying reporters, Velvet turned to the cop, practically baring her teeth at him. “Don’t you know how to treat a lady? Stop shoving me!” The officer grabbed hold of her forearm wordlessly, half dragging the struggling and thrashing teen down a dreary, beige hall, decidedly not shoving her anymore. She was not amused at the turn of events and even less so by the color scheme of the building. Who thought that beige and grey was a good idea? The hallway he’d pulled her down ended at a holding cell, marked with a faded pewter grey plaque embossed with the word ‘women’. Another cop sat at a desk in front of the cell, flipping lazily through a magazine.
Opening the barred door to the cell, the arresting officer shoved Velvet into the dingy space. Being the diva she was she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the cell, distraught by the smell of sweat and a hint of booze, as well as what seemed to be a very apparent lack of cleaning, suggested by the various stains in the cell, some which looked nauseatingly like blood. Her rather aggressive arrestor removed her thumbcuffs and, as Velvet flexed her fingers and wrists, gestured to the shoulder pads she was wearing. “Hand ‘em over,” he ordered. “That’s evidence now.” Scowling, she removed the vest, tossing it at the cop. “Fine,” she hissed. “It was Cringe’s creation anyway, not mine.” She intentionally mispronounced the assistant’s name, one of the few spiteful ways she could still retain the power she’d had no more than two hours ago.
The cop rolled his eyes once more, exiting the cell and closing the door. “Oh,” he added. “I’d get used to this cell by the way. You’ll be here for a few days while you’re being processed.” He smirked as a look of rage crossed Velvet’s face. She didn’t bother to dignify the comment with a response, instead picking out the cleanest bit of bench lining the wall she could find and sitting down. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to shiver. The tight black minidress that clung to her wiry body was not the most suitable outfit for a cold jail cell. But she refused to be anything less than stone faced. She would not let them get to her- it was beneath her, and she had better things to worry about.