Red Ink (Yandere Splatoon/Coroika x Reader)

motives aren't always incidental

"You want me to go into the basement? Alone?"

"That's it, that's it. You like doing what I say, don't you?"

You shuddered. The stranger's voice always reached your ear in the worst way. And a basement? Really? Why not just walk into a graveyard next?

Pushing those sarcastic thoughts aside, you did as asked. Your situation hadn't changed in this agonizing time period that you've been connected to them- They still had you cornered.

However, you had to stop at the basement door. "There's a lock on it."

"It's open," They clarified. "It wasn't supposed to be."

When you twisted the doorknob and pushed it, you saw they were right. A steep downward staircase was revealed. They lead into a room with dim lighting. You checked behind you to confirm that you were still alone. The house was basically empty now.

You bit your lip anxiously. "What are you leading me into?"

"Something meant for your eyes only," They chuckled. "It was meant to be, anyway."

You rolled your eyes at the unhelpful comment and proceeded. You were cautious on every step, constantly looking around to make sure you weren't being followed.

"Surprise, Sidney."

You froze. At first, you thought the stranger said that, though it clearly originated somewhere in the basement. But when you reached the bottom of the steps, nobody was there.

The voice seemed to come from the old TV plugged up in the corner. Some kind of ancient movie was playing, where these two boys were cornering a girl in the kitchen. She was crying and drenched in blood, but it was nothing compared to the boy in front of her. The guy next to him seemed all too happy to be there.

A table and chair was set up in front of the TV. There was an open laptop with a camera feed on it. Each screen depicted a different angle of the house, except for a single static screen. The chair was pulled out as if someone had recently gotten up from it.

You began to slowly back away, silently trying to make some sort of connection. Just how were you supposed to interpret all of this? Did this specific movie mean anything? Why are there cameras set up and why weren't you informed about it?

Then it hit you. Your eyes shot open as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

This is where the killer was hiding all along.

It had to be. Why else would they lead you here? Why else would there be cameras to spy on their potential victims? Why else would such an appropriately gorey film be playing?

It was as much as terrifying as it made sense. They were literally right under your nose the whole time. If not, they were blending in with the crowd. You might have saw them. They definitely saw you. You might have even brushed shoulders.

Maybe you even know them personally.

Something squished underneath your shoe as you were backing away. Your heart stopped, throat closing up. You only peeked down as much as you needed to.

Puddles of blood with a gas mask discarded next to them.

Your hands started clawing at your face, which had a look of horror plastered onto it. Your gasps turned into breathlessness.

They weren't just puddles. They wrote something out. Your brain was refusing to process them. It couldn't bare to stress itself any more. But you forced yourself to. The movie suddenly seemed significantly louder, blaring like sirens in your ears.