TRIGGER REWRITE

Chapter 1 - A Dream

"Ah... will I too be able to sit there, one day?" Politely asked Hemlock, a grin plastered across his face radiating purity and kindness. An expressive child, optimistic from birth. The figure above him leaned over, smoothing down his luscious, fluffy lavender hair with their gentle hand.

"Of course, my Hemmy. One day, you will be..." The silhouette drifted off, giving consideration to the next words they spoke.

"Just like me." The figure spoke barely above a whisper, in a soothing, almost maternal manner, a golden smile dawning across their angelic face. Their soft features shone in the bright light emitting from the gold-trimmed mosaic windows surrounding them, almost as if a halo. Though squinting slightly at the form who now embraced him, he realised he couldn't actually make out the figure's face, the light clouding his vision.

Despite this, Hemlock leaned into the embrace - he did not care who or what that silhouette was, all he knew was that this was the safest he's ever felt. Wishing this moment would last forever, he closed his eyes with content... Before finding himself woken by an ear-piercing alarm, jolting forwards in his crooked bed. Taking a second to acknowledge his surroundings, Hemlock was brought back to the harsh reality of his mundane, run-down room.

"That dream again...?" He questioned himself, sighing heavily as he rubbed his gentle, vibrantly dark eyes - hot pink with X shapes for pupils, quite the eye-catcher. He stumbled out of his wrecked and messy purple bed, finding himself nearly tripping on a loose plank of wood sticking out of the floorboards. He stretched, stripping himself of his pink pyjamas and cleaning himself up, then throwing on his iconic baggy grey hoodie and black trousers that were both clearly too big for him.

"HEMMY, I SCORED! GET IN HERE!" Excitedly exclaimed his roommate and 'guardian', Vinnie, who seemed to be elated about something. Hemlock sluggishly sauntered into the room, his heavy eyes focusing on the bleached-haired and tattooed man before him.

"A bounty on some random fuckin' gambling addict. Only one other guy took the deal, but we can make quick work of him, yeah? Reward's around 5,000 kites."

Hemlock hesitated slightly, attempting to excuse himself, "Y'know Vinnie, I've got some work to do-" before being cut short by Vinnie, who shushed him, seemingly having other plans for him.

"You're coming, kid." Vinnie insisted, pointing a revolver to his head as he threw his other arm over the sofa, leaning back lazily into the ripped exterior. "5,000 kites might not be a lot, but it's worth getting."

And so, Hemlock packed his needles and darts, tipping his weapons with his own crafted poisons and maladies. He holstered some darts onto his belt, alongside his syringes, preparing to head out for a fight. Thus, they set off on Vinnie's black motorbike, patterns painted onto it that Vinnie had drawn himself - some V's and gears, stopwatches and gang emblems. Hemlock whimpered, clenching his eyes shut and clinging onto Vinnie's torso tightly as he sped off way above the speed limit.

Occasionally loosening up and relaxing into Vinnie, Hemlock peered at the streets the two blazed by. The dimly-lit streets were hostile, not so welcoming to any of the inhabitants, but it being the only place Hemlock knew, he considered it home. Graffiti was strewn across almost every building they passed, the only source of colour painting the constructions being the minimal amounts of advertising displays and orange-tinted street lamps. Hemlock scrunched his eyes once more, and before he knew it, they arrived at a grand casino with 'CASINO WUTHERING' undoubtedly labelling the establishment in glowing LED text above the ceiling of it.

One by one, the streetlights shut off until finally the metallic and graffiti infested streets were now completely pitch black, leaving them in utter darkness and hopelessness. Screams and alarms could be heard from the casino, which had so quickly gone from a colourful shining eyesore to a barely visible giant box.