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One day, a vague suspicion crept into Commander Gepard Landau's mind that he was slowly going mentally deranged.
As a law-abiding citizen and responsible soldier — it is known that there is no place for the insane in the army — he visited the doctor in good time. Probably the only specialist in mental illness in all of Belobog. Usually Gepard Landau tried not to let things get to this point; he only visited regular doctors during mandatory medical examinations, and such seemingly quack disciplines never inspired confidence in him at all. But now he was forced by the desire, if not to disabuse himself of his suspicions, then at least to find the root of the problem and pull it out like an annoying weed.
The good news was that after a few sessions, Gepard finally figured out that his marbles were still firmly in their place. The bad news was that his suspicions were not unfounded, and on that very soil, some problem had indeed taken firm root.
This root was called Sampo Koski.
Gepard, being a noble scion of the Landau family, did not use foul language. However, he could not bring himself to call the swindler who was always looming before his eyes anything other than a pain in the ass. Sampo Koski, it seemed, did everything to imprint himself in other people's memories, and he cared little how exactly he did it. His face was familiar to every inhabitant of the Underworld and every second Overworlder. Against his deeds, they organized an entire, damn it, "Dark Blue Scam Victims Association" (even Gepard could have come up with a better name). Wherever you go, Sampo Koski most likely had a hand in any mess. His personal file, by rough estimates, would soon no longer fit in the top drawer of the captain's desk.
Any person with such input data should be readable as an open book. Koski, indeed, was an open book, but it was written in a non-existent language — and scribbled over the printed lines.
Despite all the information he had collected about him, Gepard doubted that he had studied Sampo Koski even one percent. His file was filled with questions that he could not give any clear answers to. Age? Well, he looked a little under forty, although he had not changed in appearance in the eight years of playing catch-up together. Occupation? Mostly a trader, although sometimes Gepard thought that this scoundrel could do everything in the world, from assembling complex mechanisms to playing the bass guitar. Place of residence? It seemed that Sampo Koski was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And while Gepard could put up with everything else — choke on bile, grind his teeth, but put up with it — it was precisely this unfortunate last point that systematically drove him crazy.
At first, the captain chalked it all up to dexterity and resourcefulness. Sampo Koski could escape from any sticky situation — brazenly ignoring absolutely all degrees of its stickiness. No matter how many times Gepard handcuffed him, Koski would somehow get rid of them and disappear in the blink of an eye. Pressing him against the wall and twisting his arms was also useless: Koski would slip away like sand through one’s fingers, and that was no exaggeration. One second he would feel the tense muscles rolling under his palms. The next, he would lose his balance because his support would disappear into nowhere; and in the place where the swindler had just been, there would only be an artificial rose, squeezed into a crack in the stonework. Like some kind of sophisticated mockery, accompanied by a vile giggle from around the nearest corner. He was ready to swear that on one of those days he heard a sarcastic voice from behind his back:
“You could at least change your tactics.”
Each time, Gepard began to doubt his own sanity more and more. A normal person, especially one of such an outstanding build, could not be so indecently elusive! All their meetings dangerously hovered on the border between strangeness and outright absurdity — but Gepard, in some desperate hope of preserving his simple, artless picture of the world, still tried to lean toward the first option.
Until he noticed that Sampo Koski never broke the handcuffs. Still tightly tied — so tightly that they really shouldn't even slide over one’s skin — they stayed locked every damn time.
Those disgustingly locked handcuffs laid on the table and apparently mocked Gepard, who tried to incinerate them with the power of pure anger in his gaze. He was unsuccessful; probably because this sudden realization had totally unsettled him. He would bet his boots: it was physically impossible to simply, without lock picking, get out of such handcuffs. Even the phenomenal flexibility of the joints, which Koski, it seemed, did not possess, would be powerless. But how? How in the name of Qliphoth did he do it?! Gepard had no idea — and was not sure if he wanted to know at all. But the captain of the Silvermane guards combined two outstanding traits: blind dedication and impossible badger-like stubbornness. So, as much as he wanted to chalk it all up again to simple sleight of hand, that day he opened the thick file with a heavy heart and added a new line to it:
"Abilities: Inhuman."
There were no fewer questions.
After Gepard had collected the pieces of his picture of the world and somehow connected them with duct tape, he made a strong-willed decision: to take a fresh look at Sampo Koski. That is, admitting its inhumanity from the very beginning. And after a few rounds of the usual game of cat and mouse, the captain discovered a whole mountain of oddities behind his collar that he had previously missed, full of skepticism — and which now poured down on his head like a cornucopia.
The first thing Gepard noticed, watching Koski from afar, was that his broad figure seemed blurry. The commander's vision was fine (at least, that's what the results of his last medical examination said). And the other people with whom the swindler was chatting carefree at that moment looked completely normal. Even when Gepard squinted and rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the picture didn't change: next to Koski there were just like humans, and he himself turned into a blurry crimson-blue spot without any specific outlines.
The second oddity was revealed to him when they met again in the light of the cold Belobog sun. It was tilting to the east, and Koski, damn his vile giggling, was running in that very direction, apparently to make sure that the captain's eyes were blinded. The rogue was broader in the shoulders, but the same height as Gepard — that's why during every chase the captain's field of vision was filled with the annoyingly graying back of his head. But only at that moment did a logical thought seep through the fragments of his picture of the world: why did the sun blind his eyes if the blue head completely blocked it?
That morning, Commander Gepard Landau discovered that Sampo Koski did not cast a shadow.
One evening, about three hours after the end of his work shift, Gepard was sitting in his office, absentmindedly leafing through Koski's personal file, which had finally stopped fitting in the top drawer of his desk in the last few days. The information it contained had become noticeably more substantial than "has an interest in red roses" or "uses smoke bombs" — and this, seriously, was pleasing. But all the new entries looked like the ravings of a mentally ill person:
"The suspect's movements are comparable to the "teleportation" described in science fiction novels. It has been repeatedly noted that he is able to move to the other end of the city in just a few minutes. Apparently, he freely traveled between the Overworld and the Underworld in the same way before the opening of the cable car."
"Having finished all his business and having entered the break stage, the suspect disappears from the radars. Attempts to follow his route are a failure. Attempts to establish his location by investigating the surrounding area are also a failure. It is unclear where he is resting. It is difficult to say that the word "where" is applicable to him at this moment."
"Upon closer inspection, it is noticeable that the suspect's height fluctuates by several centimeters in either direction depending on the time of day. The lowest recorded height is approximately 185 centimeters, which systematically appears when the sun is at its zenith."
"When appearing outside the city, the suspect, at any convenient opportunity, tries to bury himself in a snowdrift and disappear exactly from there."
None of this made any sense at all. Frantically rereading all his notes, Gepard was not getting closer to a solution, but to a passionate desire to bang his head on the table. Yes, perhaps he had learned a lot more about Koski recently, but it still didn’t make things any easier. To the original, most important question – who is he? – another, no less important one was added. And it didn’t sound at all encouraging:
What is he?
Gepard still wasn't sure if he wanted a full answer. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but there were moments when he felt genuinely scared.
Although, it would seem, what did he have to be afraid of? Despite all his clever scams, Sampo Koski was... relatively harmless. He always carried curved blades with him, but Gepard had never seen him seriously use them. His fraudulent schemes were annoying and frankly mischievous, but Koski never reached the point of no return, knowing where to stop so as not to ruin a person's life. The smoke in his bombs knocked people out, but did not cause any harm to one’s health. This list could go on forever — or rather, it just went on for a long time, unbearably long, comparable to the number of pages in a dossier.
But all these arguments vanished as soon as Gepard looked Sampo Koski in the eyes. Before he slipped away from under his nose again, the captain managed to catch a glimpse of a black hole behind the laughing emerald facade.
In the time since they first met, Gepard had noticed that Koski hadn't changed at all from year to year — at first glance. But some things were only noticeable if you looked closer: gathering wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, gradually graying nape of his neck... and that very black hole behind the bright irises that the captain had only managed to discern on his four hundred and fifty-fourth attempt. (By their six hundred and forty-eighth meeting, it had definitely grown.)
He was not strong in human psychology. In non-human psychology — even less so. That is why he could not even guess what this darkness in the depths of Koski's eyes meant — but he shuddered just in case.
From the cold, of course. His status doesn't allow him to be afraid.
He simply wasn't particularly used to walking around the Underworld in civilian clothes — no wonder he was starting to freeze. He rarely had to go anywhere without his officer's armor: he usually spent weekends at home or with his family, and went shopping just after his shift. But it so happened that one doctor from the Overworld, out of old friendship, asked him to give Natasha a box with some medicine, and Gepard took this as an excellent opportunity to stroll around the Underworld as an ordinary city dweller, without scaring off random miners with his menacing appearance.
Although he looked a little less imposing than usual without his uniform, his figure still looked pretentious and out of place, as if it glowed with noble whiteness in the middle of the neglected city slums.
Therefore, it was doubly strange that Sampo Koski, who was sitting on the ground near the crystal of geomarrow, did not notice him.
Maybe it was because his every step was not accompanied by the usual clanking of armor. Maybe, — Gepard looked at him with distrust, — it was because Koski himself looked completely lost and broken. He pulled his knees up to himself, rested his chin on them, and lowered his eyelids, and dark circles could be discerned under his trembling eyelashes. The captain had never seen this rogue allow himself to close his eyes for long in the presence of strangers.
None of this mattered, because Gepard, like a wild cat, jumped out from around the corner and with a practiced movement tried to catch him.
His hands clasped in the air.
And it would have been normal if the scoundrel had slipped away again. But he stayed where he was, flinching, backing away, but not running anywhere. Gepard stared in horror at his arm, elbow-deep in Koski's chest, meeting no resistance. His knees should have pinned the rascal to the ground, but instead he felt only the cold stone tiles beneath his feet and small debris digging into his skin through the fabric.
Then the captain raised his gaze with significant effort.
Two black holes were looking at him. And for some reason, at that moment, Gepard realized: they had not been a threat from the very beginning. Sampo radiated fatigue, tension, and outright fear with his entire being.
And then he darted to the side in panic and disappeared. Disappeared into thin air. It happened right before his eyes — Gepard intentionally hadn't blinked the whole time.
And it seemed he also wasn't breathing.
After this incident, Koski completely stopped showing up. In a way, Gepard was grateful to him for this: something told him that if he saw this scoundrel just once more, even duct tape would not help his picture of the world grounded into crumbs. But even so, a sticky and cold feeling of something wrong settled in his soul. Previously, the swindler had been getting on his nerves at least once a week, if not more often, so a whole month of calm could not help but strain Gepard, who was used to living according to a strict schedule. Even taking into account that the words "schedule" and "Sampo Koski" could be put in the same sentence only with great reserve.
In any case, the captain could say with certainty that Koski was still alive (and probably able to work). The consequences of his machinations continued to surface here and there. Cautious questioning of the townspeople showed that he had not changed at all and continued to buy, sell, provide services and, with particular pleasure, pull the wool over people's eyes. But at the same time, he avoided the glances of the Silvermane guards, especially Gepard, so skillfully that the commander was finally convinced that all their meetings took place only because Sampo Koski himself wanted them to.
And now, obviously, he had lost all desire. And the reasons for such behavior were no less obvious.
After that incident, Gepard had to spend an inordinate amount of time to dot all the i's and cross all the t's. He had mixed success, because the information he had collected just wouldn't fit together into any kind of clear picture.
If their last meeting was anything to go by, he could call Koski... a ghost? The captain had seen something similar in the corridors of Fragmentum more than once. But this theory fell apart before it could be assembled. Firstly, such ghosts were mostly echoes of long-dead people, stuck forever in the moment close to death. They did not perceive the changed reality, were unable to think clearly, and even more so to carry out such grandiose schemes as Sampo Koski did. Secondly, they could not get into the city even if they wanted to. Thirdly, they were not even material — and a merchant, by the way, is supposed to be able to hold his goods in his hands.
Gepard elaborated on the third point. Whenever the swindler wanted to run away from him, he was, without a doubt, material. Hundreds of their encounters led to the captain now remembering very well what Sampo Koski felt like. He snapped handcuffs on his wrists, threw him to the ground, pressed him against the wall, broke his nose (provoking a snotty requiem for the "poor, unfortunate beautiful face") and even managed to pull out a clump of disheveled blue hair a couple of times. That is, with the naked eye, it was impossible to distinguish him from an ordinary human.
But what had happened that last time they met in the Underworld? Gepard decided it was because he had managed to catch Koski off guard. He had certainly not expected physical contact. He had not actually expected anyone to see him, lurking in a secluded corner. Did that mean he only became corporeal at will?
Straining the remnants of his burnt-out brain, Gepard added to his personal file the guess that “the ghost” was Sampo Koski’s default state.
One could stop at this conclusion. After all, it answered the questions regarding his impossible escapes: for example, it became clear that he simply passed right through the handcuffs. But something still bothered Gepard, and it was not only that after Koski's disappearance the captain's soul was scratched by cats (which he resolutely did not want to admit — he could not just fall for these touching black holes, right?).
It was just that it still was a mystery who and what Sampo Koski was. And Gepard intended to grab him by the lapels and shake the whole truth out of him, whether he wanted it or not.
All that remained was to figure out how the hell he was supposed to do it.
The idea came to him after he spent several evenings hypnotizing Koski's personal file with his gaze. That very line about the pathological passion for burying himself in snowdrifts initially seemed delusional and was written down simply for collecting reasons, so Gepard did not pay due attention to it. But after some thinking and putting together... no, not even two and two, but a couple of seven-digit numbers, he came to the conclusion that it would be most reasonable to catch Sampo Koski in the Snow Fields. The fact that for some reason he needed a snowdrift for an ideal escape from the fields said something anyway.
It was a matter of technique to lure Koski out into the fields. Whatever he thought of himself, he was not as elusive as he thought, just as the guards were not such idiots as he must have thought. The rogue might have had the physical advantage, but even he had his weaknesses. For example, an unbearable craving for easy money, which usually turned off several switches in Koski's head responsible for self-preservation. Of course, he still kept his ears open and looked at everyone he was talking to with carefully concealed suspicion. But one thing was certain: if you offered him a profit, he would come to take it, regardless of the degree of suspicion in this deal.
Gepard was not very good at lying, so after some thought he shifted the responsibility of setting the trap to Pela. She was the one who was fantastic at getting into character via correspondence. Once he asked her how she had succeeded in this field, and received an comprehensive answer. But to be honest, he immediately forgot what it meant, and it was too awkward to ask again. Fanaticism? Falsification? Foundation…?
Anyway, Koski almost immediately took the bait and agreed to come to the place that was needed. Even if he suspected something in this not at all dubious correspondence, he didn’t show it. He even sent the mysterious client a stupid sticker with kittens! Half the success, so to speak. The other half depended solely on Gepard himself, because he intended to go to the meeting place alone. Something told him that Koski wouldn’t even show himself on the horizon if he saw a whole platoon of Silvermanes.
This was the reason why the captain felt extremely uncomfortable at the moment.
He had to disguise himself. Of course, this wasn't his first undercover mission, but it was probably the first time he'd ventured into the Snowfields in these miner's rags. Despite ten layers of clothing, the cold still got to his bones, and without his armor, Gepard felt completely naked and vulnerable — although monsters usually didn't show up at the designated point. The monster was of a slightly different kind — a meeting had been arranged with it — and, unlike the spawns of Fragmentum, the captain had little idea what to expect from this particular specimen after such a long lull. He had to reassure himself that Sampo had never raised a hand against a human to his recollection. It was unlikely that at least that had changed — but Gepard was prepared for such an outcome, just in case.
It was getting dark, and in the middle of this vast empty nothingness it had a slightly depressing effect. The wind blew unpleasantly under his mask, echoing in his ears like a transformer hum, his frozen hands were clenched tightly on the handle of a rusty shovel, and his back was becoming more and more absurdly straight with each passing second. Koski was already five minutes and thirty-four seconds late. It was strange, because his clients could complain about anything, but not about his lack of punctuality. Maybe he had figured out the insidious plan and simply decided not to come? It would be bitter, it would be offensive, but understandable. However, Gepard would not be Gepard if he had not decided to stand to the end, ready to freeze to death to this very spot. And let the heavens open up, and Qliphoth bring down his hammer onto his head, he will not give in and will not stray from his appointed path-...
“Ca-p-ta-a-ain.”
Gepard snapped his teeth and turned his entire body around, immediately running into the grinning face of Sampo, damn him, Koski. Indecently, damn him, close to his own face.
“You...!”
In just a few moments, so many thoughts, emotions and obscene expressions flashed through the captain's skull that his brain became cramped and his head began to hurt. Having tried to sort it all out, Gepard suffered a crushing defeat, so he came to the only way out available at that moment: he got angry.
“How is this possible?!”
“My dear friend, with all due respect, the miners from the Underworld are not distinguished by such perfect posture. Or rather, I would say that they are not distinguished by posture at all…”
Gepard gritted his teeth.
“But why did you immediately decide that it was me?”
“It couldn't be simpler”, Sampo grinned. “Who else would spend so much time and waste so much resources to catch such an honest citizen as Sampo Koski? You pay so-o-o much attention to me... You know, I'm slowly starting to feel special. Can I count on some leniency in prison?”
How much he talked. Gepard had already forgotten how actually much. He would fool himself and everyone for miles around if he said he hadn't missed it (though he would have gladly shot himself with a musket rather than admit otherwise).
However, moving away from this suicidal mood, he had just the right target for shooting practice. Smiling, outlandish, and completely unbearable. Behaving as if nothing had happened. As if Gepard hadn't been tormenting himself for a whole month, and Sampo hadn't made every possible effort to hide from the captain's eyes! Koski had even carefully hidden these black holes of his. Gepard wanted to just wipe that cheeky smile off the rogue’s face. Preferably with his fist.
“In your dreams”, he snapped, and with visible relief pulled the stuffy mask off his face. “Although if you answer my questions, I’m ready to reduce your term of imprisonment from three life sentences to one.”
“What a generous offer!” Koski threw up his hands. “But it depends on the questions. What if there's something personal there? I'm not ready for that, I haven't even had time to powder my nose!”
"Stop clowning around", Gepard barked, straightening his shoulders as if trying to look broader and more imposing, befitting a guard commander — as much as possible in such a ridiculous disguise. "You have nowhere to run now, and you will do what I tell you.”
“...Oh? Are you so sure about that?” Something in Koski’s expression subtly broke — either in his furrowed brows or in the twitching corners of his lips. Gepard wanted to think it was nervousness. “And what gave the captain such a bright idea?”
“At the very least, I won't let you bury yourself in a snowdrift.”
Koski blinked. Gepard expected him to parry at this very second, to make a joke, to be sarcastic, to refute — and that would be normal for Sampo Koski, who used words as a bargaining chip. But instead he just blinked, not like Sampo Koski at all. And then he cocked his head to the side, like a curious puppy. Puppies don't have those empty hollows where their eyes had been just a second ago.
“You’re very good at writing personal files”, he said suddenly with a smile frozen on his face.
“What do you mean by th-...” Gepard paused and frowned. “Oh, what am I talking about, of course you broke into my office.”
For some reason, that thought didn't even make him as angry as it should have.
“Well, yes. With the teleportation from science fiction novels, it was easy”. Aeons, he mocked him with relish. “And that's why... you decided that I was completely helpless in the Snow Fields!”
“I haven’t had time to find out why yet, but I’m ninety percent sure of it”, Gepard bared his teeth, grabbing Koski by the collar of his ridiculous sleeveless jacket. He seemed to be watching this with detached curiosity and for some reason didn’t try to break free; his gaze was directed somewhere past the captain. Gepard looked in the same direction. Nothing — only a long shadow on the snow, which he himself did cast. And his footprints. Sampo left neither.
"So what questions do you have, my friend?" Sampo asked calmly, and his tone did not bode well. "I'll freeze my hips until I get that precious reduction in my sentence."
Said the man who was among the top ranks of the most undressed residents of Belobog.
“Gr-r-r…” Gepard clenched his fist. And his teeth too. “One question. The most important one. In the name of the law, Sampo Koski, I order you to answer: what are you?!”
Koski stepped on the shadow and disappeared.
A really dirty word did fly off Gepard's tongue.
"Oh, wow", came from all sides at once. "And I thought the noble captain of the Silvermane Guards wasn't even familiar with such lexicon. Wash your mouth with soap!"
“Where are you?! Show yourself immediately!” Gepard looked around, rearing up, but saw nothing.
“I’m answering your question, Ca-p-tain”, it sounded so reproachful that the hair on the back of his neck involuntarily stood up. It seemed that there was no trace left of the rogue’s mischievous mood. “Come on. Don’t disappoint me. Stop for a moment, take a deep breath and think. I came to you to reveal my trump cards. You should carry me in your arms for such a chance. Ah, wait, there would be some difficulties with that...”
Gepard immediately wished to murder someone, but with an inhuman (ha-ha) effort of will he shoved this desire down his throat and bit his tongue. Stop. Think. Stop and think — so that Koski would finally escape during this time? Hoping to cool his blood, which was boiling again, the captain looked down at the snow under his feet. Nothing new had appeared there. A shiny icy crust, a chain of his own footprints and...
Gepard suddenly felt his heart sink into his heels.
An icy crust, a chain of footprints and a long shadow.
A long shadow with a massive shoulder pad, a stupid strand of hair sticking out, and curved blades in its hands.
A long shadow, somewhere in the area of whose face two empty holes and an oblique cut were visible, reminiscent of the mouth of a two-faced theatrical mask.
Sampo Koski was not a ghost.
Sampo Koski was a shadow.
A shadow cast by Gepard himself. He raised his hand, and Koski's silhouette did the same. He shook his head wildly, and the silhouette did the same, as any decent shadow would. And then it seemed to tire of pretending. The hollows in the shadow's face turned into crescents, the split of its mouth curved into a semblance of a cheerful smile, and the silhouette took some kind of exaggeratedly dramatic pose:
“I was forbidden to jump into the snowdrift, and that is the only place in all the Snow Fields where you can find a decent shadow! Such luck that you were here. I culturally borrowed your shadow. Hope you don't mind.”
Of course.
Koski earned his living in the Underworld because there were shadows everywhere. The guards could not find his lair because Koski spent his free time in the shadows. Koski would jump into the shadows in one place and come out in a completely different one. The shadows become short when the sun is at its zenith.
"I do mind!" came out before he had time to think about it. Something about all this was catastrophically wrong, and Gepard desperately tried to wrest some control over the situation. "Give me my shadow back!"
“Is it that precious to you? Be careful with your words, Captain, or I'll get jealous.”
"Why do I care about your jealousy?!" Gepard barked. His body itself took a fighting stance, but in the absence of enemies in the area, the feeling of wrongness began to itch even more strongly somewhere on the inside of his skin — especially when the shadow mockingly did not repeat after him. "You want another sentence for robbery?!"
”As you say, as you say... don't get so worked up”, the shadow raised its hands. “I'll give you back your property…”
And Koski's silhouette really did disappear. All the extra outlines washed away, leaving behind only the shadow of Gepard himself, the most ordinary one. The captain would never have thought that he would ever be so glad to see it.
Or rather, he would have been happy in any other situation.
When something invisible sticks to you from all sides, you become a little less interested in everyday joys.
Gepard didn't feel the usual touches, but he felt something crawling along his skin like a snake. This something simultaneously ruffled his hair under his dusty mask, wrapped around his neck just under his chin, and hid in the hollow between his collarbones. Something curled up peacefully on his chest, wrapped its strange warmth around his torso under his clothes, and counted the goosebumps running along his spine. Something gushed in streams into his nose and mouth, slid down his throat, and shamelessly took up the free space in his lungs.
It took a moment to realize that he was suffocating, busy cursing the higher powers that had decided that so many shadows on a human body was just a wonderful idea. He wanted to immediately fall into the snow, roll around in it and wipe off all this sticky filth, but it was impossible to wipe off the shadow just like that. He wanted to tear off his arms so that they would not be broken by such a large tremor. He wanted to turn inside out, empty his stomach, or better yet, let himself be cut open so that he could scoop out handfuls of the intangible fuel oil from his insides. He wanted to go deaf so as not to hear the distant echoes of the polyphonic hubbub, laughter, the ringing of bells, festive pipes, explosions of firecrackers, and clown horns. He wanted to hang himself here and now, to block this shadow stream and strangle Sampo Koski along with himself.
The feeling disappeared as suddenly as it had come.
Gepard slowly sank to the ground, convulsively clutching a scarlet artificial rosebud in his hands.
The dust from his picture of the world only remained to be swapped away by the wind.
***
He was exhausted.
Having tumbled heavily out of the shadows in some secluded corner of the Underworld, Sampo did not even try to straighten himself out, or assess the situation, or at least get to his feet. Curled up under some wall, he spread out like a black oily stain across the surface. He wanted to exhale. He could not: shadows are not supposed to exhale.
“You think that's funny?” he asked the void in his mind.
"Funny Funny Funny You'll Just Laugh Your Ass Off”, a crow croaked somewhere. There were no crows on Jarilo-VI.
"A joke repeated so many times stops being funny, you know”, Sampo replied irritably. "Aren't you tired of it, really?"
“No Way Friendie You're Doing A Great Job Of Entertaining Me”, the heater on the geomarrow hummed in the distance. “The Shadow Was My Best Joke In A Long Time Don’t You Agree? You're Just So Adorable In This Silly Little Role.”
Sampo did not answer.
This was not what he wanted when he dreamed of plunging headlong into the depths of shadow economy.